Evelyn's Secret

I awoke early in the morning, my mind suddenly alert and rested, despite the early hour. Sometimes that happens to me, especially if I sleep on a problem. I knew suddenly how I could manage to see Evelyn Proctor with no one in my family the wiser. I would pull one of the oldest tricks in the book, I was going to get sick. Using my firecalling talent, I could simulate a fever and sunburn with glamour, Dad knew of the time I'd gotten sunburned with the dragons. We'd gone to the beach after lunch yesterday and I'd spent the rest of the afternoon until dinner in the water with my cousins, so coming down with a case of chills, fever, and bad sunburn would be believable. The hard part would be getting my father to agree to go about his business and leave me alone in the hotel room. When I was sick, Dad tended to hover, like a concerned mother hen. So I'd have to be sick, but not sick enough to make him stay here.

You can do this, Gavin. It's the only way you're ever going to see Evelyn and get to the bottom of this whole thing. There's something weird going on here, and Dad knows it but won't admit it. The whole situation with the Shining Path gave me the chills, and I didn't know the details the way my father probably did. Others might dismiss them as just another group of crazies, typical warmongering, pitchfork waving, Christian fanatics, like a hundred other groups in the Midwest. I knew better. I'd grown up under a fanatic like them and I knew the most dangerous creature was a fanatic who believed wholeheartedly in his cause, for then he was willing to kill and die for it, without remorse.

Those poppets and scrawled warnings were just the tip of the iceberg, the beginning of the madness. That was how it began, and if it were allowed to spread . . .we would have another Salem witch hunt on our hands, only ten times worse than the original, because of modern day technology. There was little doubt in my mind that this group had access to guns, most of the organized hate groups did, and if this one was as old as my father thought . . .they'd had plenty of time to gather recruits and money. I quivered, for I could hear Ferrous's voice in my head suddenly, "Thou shall not suffer a witch to live . . .Vengeance is mine, an eye for an eye, saith the Lord. It's freaks like you they were talking about, boy. Devil touched hellspawn, one and all, and the world would be a better place if all of your kind were wiped off of it. Or turned from your evil nature, as I've been trying to do with you, you ungrateful wicked brat."

He'd been referring to wizards like me when he'd said that, somehow he'd known about us, or thought he did. For over half my childhood I'd been forced to listen to his screwed up philosophy, how I should have been dead rather than allowed to live and pollute the world with my magic-tainted presence. But I had only now recalled that he'd also spouted the belief that I could be made to renounce the magic that was my birthright, to deny the evil in my soul, and so become a good person. Oh yes, I could recall many times now when he'd lectured me as he was beating the hell out of me. I was weak, allowing myself to be tempted into wrongdoing by my sinful nature, and that was why he punished me.

It was because of him that I'd suppressed my magic, trying to survive him the best way I knew, by becoming an ordinary child. If Ferrous had been smart, he'd have rewarded me for such behavior, but he'd hated me so much by then and I'd been his scapegoat for so long, that he continued to beat me even when I wasn't using magic, and undid all the progress he'd made with me. I'd soon realized that no matter how hard I tried to please him, there was no way I ever could, and so I stopped trying and rebelled against him and his teachings with everything I was.

I'd almost believed him, once upon a time, believed his lies and hate. He'd nearly trapped me in his web of hatred, but I'd escaped thanks to my defiance, my stubborn refusal to surrender to him, no matter how much he hurt me. That year I was eight, just a month before I'd run away, I'd done my best to cause as much trouble for the orphanage manager as I could. I couldn't use magic, but then I didn't need to, I could cause plenty of problems without it and I did. I caused fights between the other kids, encouraged the more rowdy orphans to have food riots, broke and damaged things, anything I could think of to make Ferrous's life harder. He'd named me a demon, very well then, I'd be what he called me, a terror of destruction.

I'd paid for it, with more beatings, and solitary confinement in the cellar with the rats and darkness, but in the end it was worth it. Because Ferrous had gone on a rampage and started walloping the others too, not just me, the way he had before. Oh, he'd switch another kid occasionally, or make them stand in the corner for an hour, or do chores, but nothing like what he dealt out to me. But once he'd lost it . . .And because of that he'd managed to get himself arrested and charged with child abuse. Of course, I hadn't known that until after I'd run away and joined the Ravens, it had made the front page of The Daily News. It had been a victory of sorts, though I'd have preferred the bastard dead and damned to hell for eternity.

I coughed slightly. Time to stop recalling Ferrous and start putting my scheme into action, I reminded myself. A part of me cringed though, for I really didn't like deceiving my dad that way. I'd been taught that lying was a sin and I hated lying to him especially, because I knew how much he hated kids that did that. But there was no other option. Nothing else would work half so well as the sick gambit, and this way I wouldn't have to worry about my cousins asking awkward questions either.

Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive, the old saying by Sir Walter Scott flitted through my head then.

Sighing, I closed my eyes and summoned my gift to me. I raised my body temperature by several degrees, enough to fool my father into thinking I had a fever of 101 or so. Then I used glamour to make the skin on my arms, chest, and my back and legs appear blistered with a nasty sunburn. Luckily I was fair skinned to start with, so any redness looked twice as bad. I fastened the glamour tight against me, so it was almost like a second skin. The only way anybody would ever see through it was if they were actively looking for it, which I knew my father wouldn't be. It would hold for several hours.

Then I allowed myself to drift into a half-doze, waiting for my father and aunt to awaken.

* * * * * *

"Gavin, son. Time to get up," a hand was shaking my shoulder insistently.

I opened one eye and groaned pathetically. "Dad, I don't feel good."

My father stared down at me. "You do look a bit flushed." He felt my forehead. "You've got a fever. Do you hurt anywhere else?"

"Everywhere," I whined, squirming. "I think I've got sunburn . . ."

"Let me see," he gently pulled off the sheet, then hissed when he saw the state of my chest and arms. "Good God, boy! Didn't you put on sunblock like I told you?"

"I forgot." I winced as he gently turned me over. "Ouch!"

He shook his head at the sight of my back. "You're broiled like a lobster. No wonder you've got a fever. You've probably got a touch of sun poisoning. Let me get my potions kit."

I buried my face in the pillow, hiding my relief at how well my gambit had worked.

"What's the matter with Gavin, Uncle Sev?" Nick queried, coming back from the bathroom.

"Your cousin's sick from being sunburned." Dad answered. "He forgot to put on sunblock like I told him and now he's a mess. I don't think he can go with you to see the Witch's House and Gallows Hill presentation today."

"Aw, Dad!" I groaned on cue. "It's not that bad, honest."

"No arguing, Gavin. You're staying in bed, rest and fluids and some of my burn salve will cure you." Then he went through the connecting door to get his potions kit, which was very like a mini medical kit, for the most part.

"This sucks!" I growled, punching my pillow.

"Tough break, kid," said Nick sympathetically. He eyed me thoughtfully. "But who'd ever think a firecaller would get sunburn?"

"Aw, shut it, Nick!" I ordered crossly. "The sun's not the same thing as a fire, and I can't help it if I'm so damned fair-skinned."

"Must be that Irish blood in you."

"Must be," I agreed sulkily, though the truth was I had no idea what nationality my ancestors had been.

Dad returned with his kit and told Nick to go down to breakfast with his mom and Drew. "I'll be along as soon as I've made Gavin comfortable."

Nick departed with a last wave, leaving me alone with my father.

"All right, first you need a fever reducer," Dad said, handing me a cup with the blue potion in it.

I swallowed it obediently, knowing it wouldn't do me any harm, even though I didn't really have a fever.

Then he uncapped the jar of burn salve. "Now, let's get this on you, son. It'll make you feel ten times better." He gently began to apply the salve to my arms and chest.

I winced, pretending it hurt a bit.

"There! How's that?"

"Better."

"Good. Turn over."

He repeated the same process. I squirmed and whimpered, for it made sense that my back and legs were worse than the front.

"Hold still, please!" he ordered.

"Ow! It hurts!" I yelped.

"I know, but if you'd quit wriggling, I'll be done quicker. Now relax." He continued rubbing the salve on me, all down my back, my legs, he even put some on my bottom. I silently thanked God I'd thought to make that part red as well, though not as bad as the rest of me.

"Dad! I don't need any there," I protested sharply.

"You do. You're red, now be still," he snapped as I flinched and wriggled, more from embarrassment than anything else. "Merlin, child, it's not like I'm taking a strap to you. There!" He finished and gently replaced my boxers and wiped his hands off. "Do you feel better now?"

"Umm . . .yeah," I replied. The salve made my skin feel all tingly and kind of cold.

He summoned a glass of ice water with a snap of his fingers. "I want you to drink this whole glass and then try and go to sleep. I'll be back after breakfast to check on you. Would you like me to bring you some tea and toast?"

"Yes, please." I said, giving him my most pathetic look. I sipped the water slowly. "Thanks, Dad." Thanks for believing your no-good lying son, my conscience hissed, making me squirm guiltily.

"You're welcome, son. Now get some rest." He left the room and I heaved a sigh of relief as the door shut.

Now all I had to do was convince him to leave me here alone while he went out to talk to the rest of his operatives and then I could go and find old lady Proctor and see if she wouldn't tell me stories about the Brotherhood.

* * * * * *

An hour later I was dressed and had snapped a glamour over myself that made me look like a blond-haired version of Harry Potter, or at least how I imagined Harry must have looked as a kid, complete with glasses. It had taken a bit of convincing, but Dad agreed to leave me to rest for the morning, he'd be finished with his work around two o'clock and be back to see how I was then.

I wished I could figure out when he'd be speaking with Evelyn, so I would know if it was safe to go there, but I didn't dare ask him any pointed questions. I'd just have to take my chances. As an additional insurance, I took three pillows and stuffed them beneath my blanket and then cast yet another illusion over them, this one of me sleeping. Fireflash had taught me that it was easier to cast a glamour on something than weave it entirely from air. The spell holds better.

I suppressed another wince of shame for my actions. Certainly my dragon mentor wouldn't like what I was doing with the knowledge he'd given me. I silently apologized to him in my head. Then I did the same to my dad, who'd be ready to spit nails if he knew what I was up to. I also wove a suggestion charm over the glamour, so that if anyone happened to approach the "sleeping" me, they would decide to leave me be and not try and wake me.

Once I was satisfied I'd covered my tracks thoroughly I slipped out of the room, pocketing the key card, and set out to find Evelyn's house. Luckily I had the address memorized, Dad had written it and the other four down on the back of that paper with the names. I stopped at the front desk and asked if I could call a cab from here.

The woman at the front desk said yes, and dialed one for me. In five minutes I had a cab pulling up to the front of the hotel. I hopped in and the driver asked, "Where to, kid?"

"244 Astor Way, my grandma's house," I said confidently.

"You got it." We pulled away from the hotel and I crossed my fingers. So far, so good.

It cost me ten bucks to get to Evelyn's house, which was a small cottage off the main street of Salem. I thanked the driver, tipped him, then asked for a number so I could call him when I needed a ride back to the hotel. He handed me a business card.

I took it then started up the small walk, which was bordered by several sweetly flowering snowball bushes. I knew a lot more about plants than I ever did before getting adopted because of my Grandpa Leo, who enjoyed sharing his vast knowledge of plants with anyone willing to listen. I was.

I scanned the area for any magical auras, specifically my dad's. Nothing. I heaved an immense sigh of relief. I had gotten here before him, thank Merlin's staff. I glanced around the yard curiously, spotting two cats, a gray striped and an orange, sunning themselves on the porch. Another, white with black spots, was cautiously stalking something in the grass.

I paused just before I climbed the steps. The orange cat twitched her whiskers at me. What's this? Yet another visitor for Evelyn in one morning?

I started, then knelt swiftly and hissed in cat-speak, "What do you mean? Someone else has been here besides me?"

The orange feline blinked lazily up at me. Yes. But he couldn't talk to us properly the way you can, kit. But he radiated a similar aura of magic.

"You know about magic then?"

Know about it? Of course, silly human! D'you think we're stupid, simply because we don't have hands or vocalize like you cousins of apes? We cats have always known of magic, it is Bast's gift to us, young kit. All cats, no matter how domesticated, carry a piece of magic in us, to see the Unseen and comprehend the Eternal.

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't know that," I apologized swiftly, not wanting to make the cat angry. I really should've spent more time talking to Comfrey, Arista's cat, then I'd not have sounded like an idiot. "I didn't mean to offend you, uh, what's your name?"

The orange cat yawned, displaying gleaming white fangs and a raspy tongue. My mother called me Iris, but Evelyn calls me Silk, because of my extraordinarily soft fur. She promptly rubbed her head against my hand.

I stroked her gently and praised her beautiful coat. Cats love that. She purred happily.

"Who's your friend?" I jerked my head at the sleeping gray tabby.

That's Lily. She was an orphan kitten and can't remember the name her mother gave her.

"Oh," I said, sympathizing with her totally. Then I reminded myself of the real reason I'd come here. "D'you prefer Silk or Iris?"

She flipped her tail. You may call me Silk if you wish.

"Okay. Silk, what did this other, uh, wizard look like? Was he maybe wearing black? Shirt, pants, boots? And did he have black hair with a white streak in it?"

The cat considered. Yes, from the glimpse I got of him, he was taller than you and his hair was black with a white stripe in it. Rather dashing. More of you humans should wear your hair that way. And he moved a bit stiffly, like he'd been injured once.

So my father had been here, probably talking with Evelyn about the incidents. That was both good and not good. Good because I wouldn't need to worry about him returning here and maybe catching me with the old woman, but not good because now I'd have to alter my story slightly. Originally, I'd just planned on being a curious child who'd heard rumors of witchcraft and wanting to ask Evelyn if she knew anything about it. That way she wouldn't think to mention anything about our talk to my dad. Now though, I'd decided to be a child who'd been the victim of one of those mysterious notes, since she'd be more likely to open up to a kid who'd been victimized like she was and who was also a wizard. I knew that those magicians and wizards connected with the DHI were sworn to help those in trouble, so Evelyn wouldn't refuse to tell me what I needed to know, especially if she'd been put on alert by my father.

So then, I'd be Tristan Meese, don't ask me where I came up with that name, recent victim of a hateful warning note left by who knows? I'd be a Muggleborn, unable to discuss the truth of the note with my parents, since they just thought it a nasty prank, and not the serious threat I feared it was. I'd tell her that I'd heard the same thing had happened to her-that would be common gossip in a town like Salem. I could play the scared insecure child very well, I'd done it countless times on the streets of Manhattan, to get close enough to a mark to pick their pocket.

There were advantages to looking younger than I really was, and even with the glamour, I was still small and slender. That was the one disadvantage to my illusion-casting. I could alter my appearance, but not my size. Good thing that didn't matter here.

As I rose to my feet, Lily woke up and padded over to me. Hello, she meowed softly, then she jumped into my arms. Could you open the door for me, please? I want to go inside. It's time for lunch.

"Sure. Give me a sec, okay?" I purred back at her.

Her green eyes widened. Oh, a cat speaker! I haven't talked with one of you in years. My name is Lily, sir. Pleased to meet you.

I rubbed my hand over her fur. "Pleased to meet you too. I'm Tristan." Animals were delighted when I spoke with them. Probably because it was so frustrating to have to deal with a bunch of humans who couldn't understand anything they said. It must be like living in a country of the deaf and dumb.

Then I pushed the doorbell.

The door opened and I saw a rather plump elderly woman with her hair in an bun, it was a soft silvery color. She had bright green eyes and was wearing a pink shirt with kittens on it and cream colored slacks with sneakers. She looked very alert and spry for her age.

"Yes? Can I help you, child?"

I nodded. "Uh, are you Evelyn Proctor, ma'am?"

"I am. And that's my Lily you've got there. Isn't she a sweetie?"

"Yeah," I gave her a tentative grin. "I like cats. She wanted to come inside. Says she's hungry."

"Yes, it's nearly lunch time for her." Evelyn opened the door. "Come in, lad."

I stepped inside and Lily jumped out of my arms and wound herself about Evelyn's ankles, meowing.

She knelt to pet the cat. "Yes, yes, I know you want your lunch, you impatient thing." She straightened. "There's nothing more demanding than a cat that wants to be fed. Now what's your name, young man?"

"Tristan Meese." Then I whispered softly, "I can understand animals, ma'am. All kinds. They told me to come to you."

"Indeed." She peered sharply at me. "Have you found yourself a tutor then?"

"Yes, just last week. My parents, they uh, don't know what we're really studying. They don't have magic and they'd never understand. But you do, right?"

Evelyn nodded, going into her kitchen to open up a can of cat food for Lily. "My sister Mina was a magician, so I know all about the magical world. I've known since I was a little girl, and even though I'm not a true witch, I have some minor talents. Namely the ability to sense danger or good fortune."

She waved a hand at her kitchen table. "Please, have a seat, Tristan. Are you thirsty? I have lemonade and soda or iced tea if you prefer."

"Lemonade, please."

She poured two glasses then came to sit down next to me. "Now then, I presume you're here for a reason, not just to say hello. You can call me Evelyn, by the way. Only my students ever called me ma'am, and then only if they were in trouble." Her eyes twinkled.

"You were a teacher?"

"Yes. I taught third grade for thirty years. Right here in Salem Elementary, as a matter of fact. But I've been retired now for almost ten years."

You and my dad must have a lot in common then, I thought, but did not say aloud. "Uh, well, you see I heard. . . that some crazy had, uh, left a nasty note and . . .and . . .stuff in your yard . . .threatening you for being a witch."

Evelyn nodded soberly. "Yes, that's so. They tied up poor Lily too, but thank God they didn't hurt her. Do you know something else about it?"

"Like who did it?" I asked quickly. "No. But I, well, I got a note too. I found it when I went to get the mail yesterday. It was attached to some kind of voodoo doll made of rags and sticks with pins in it. The note said that I was the devil's own child and unless I repented and rejected my magic they would . . .would come for me and . . .and show me the path of righteousness with fire and the sword." I allowed a slight tremor to come over me. "I didn't show the note to my parents, they'd think it was just a wicked prank by kids, they'd never take it seriously. But it is serious, isn't it? These people, they really mean what they say, don't they?"

Evelyn sighed. "Yes, lad, they do. Have you told your teacher about this note?"

"No. He's away, it was a family emergency, his mother's real sick," I embroidered my story swiftly, with the skill learned from, ironically, my former Raven brother Slick. Slick, who had later betrayed me to the Shifter, could lie so good it would fool Lucifer himself. "When I heard about what they'd done to you, I figured I could talk to you about it. Who are these people and why do they want to hurt me? I'm just a kid, I can barely do anything with my magic. What did I ever do to them?"

"They would say you were born, Tristan," Evelyn said sadly. "For those born with the gift of magic are abominations in their eyes and unworthy of life. They subscribe to the old belief Thou shall not suffer a witch to live, Exodus 22:13," she quoted.

"But why? What did a wizard do to them?"

"Nothing. It isn't anything you did, or that someone else did. They fear those with magic, and what a person fears, he hates, and what he hates he tries to destroy. It's an old story, child, one as old as time. I've seen it repeated over and over. With Hitler and the Jews during World War II, and again with the Vietnamese and the Americans in Vietnam. Even now, with this new trouble in the Middle East. Prejudice and fear spawns war. History repeats itself, I'm afraid. Over two hundred years ago Salem suffered the witch hunts and hysteria brought on by superstition and blind hatred. It begins again, I fear."

"But who's doing this?" I cried. "And why can't we fight them? Get some Hunters or the Director to-to nail their ass or something." Then I flushed. "Sorry, ma'am. I shouldn't talk like that in front of you."

To my surprise she chuckled. "That's quite all right, lad. My husband Sammy, God rest his soul, had quite the salty tongue, being a Navy man himself. As for your idea that we should fight them, rest assured that we are doing all we can to stop them this time. Director Snape visited me this morning to assure me that he will be doing all he can to ensure my safety and the safety of the other families that were targeted. I can ask him to include you on his list."

I gasped. "You-you actually met the Director?"

"I did. He had coffee and apple turnovers with me, I found him a most interesting man. Very direct and reassuring, just what we need these days. I think appointing Mr. Snape as Director was one of the best decisions the AMA ever made. He knows when to wait and when to act, and when he acts, he gets things done. None of this pussyfooting around, promising things to people and then not delivering. What Severus Snape promises, he does. I'm very pleased with him."

I smiled inwardly. It was too bad I couldn't ever tell my dad what Evelyn said about him. But she still hadn't told me what I wanted to know. "Evelyn, do these people have a name? Are they like a terrorist group?"

"Well, yes, I suppose you could say that. They are called the Brotherhood of the Shining Path, and they're a very old anti-witch organization, Tristan. They date back to the trials, some of their founding members were related to Samuel Parris, John Hawthorne, John Putnam, and the Mathers, who actively persecuted witches. They believe quite firmly in that Bible verse I quoted before, and they have sworn never to rest until every last witch or wizard is wiped off the face of the earth. They believe it is a holy mission, that they are called to do God's work, and rid the world of magic, for magic is a tool of the devil."

"But that's-that's crazy! To hate someone just because we're different!"

"I know. But to them, your difference damns your immortal soul."

"How do you know all this?"

She hesitated a moment before replying. "As I told you before, my sister Mina was a magician. What I didn't tell you is that I am a direct descendant of Nathanial Hawthorne, who was the author of The Scarlet Letter. And also a descendant of Magistrate John Hathorne, who condemned so many innocent women to death on hearsay. Before I married Sammy Proctor, I was Evelyn Hawthorne, as was my sister Mina, and my baby brother James. My great grandfather Nathanial was ashamed of his grandfather's participation in the trials, but most of his family was not. They thought John Hathorne right to persecute witches. So, through the years, they remained active members of the Brotherhood, at least the men did. Women were not allowed to participate."

I gaped at her. "But your sister Mina . . ."

"Had to hide what she was from nearly everyone in our family, save for me and our mother. Had it ever been known that the Hawthornes produced a witch . . .oh, the irony of it! My family would have been cast out of the Brotherhood for sure and subject to a cleansing as well." Her mouth tightened. "They would've examined all of us for any taint of witchcraft and Mina would've been killed, most likely. My father was not a very active participant, he attended meetings infrequently and never preached the doctrine to us children. But my brother Jim, he was a different story. Poor Jimmy! He was a skinny kid, always sickly, and never popular in school. But in the Brotherhood, he was somebody and he loved the power he had there. He became a rabid follower and rose high in the ranks."

"Is he still there?"

"No, he died of a heart attack ten years ago. But his son Matthew follows in his father's footsteps and is a member of the Brotherhood also. It is to my sorrow that I have to claim any of them as kin, especially after knowing what they are capable of. It's ironic, really, that Mina, whom they claimed was evil through and through for practicing magic, never harmed a soul in her life, and in fact helped many, while they, who are supposed to be the good and righteous, walking in the Light, have killed and brought misery to people far more than they've helped."

She looked suddenly worn and frail and I stared at her in concern. "Evelyn? Are you okay?"

She blinked. "Yes, I'm fine, child. Don't fret. I'm tired, is all, of being caught between worlds. I chose to help the wizarding world long ago, but the burden is very great, and what I've just told you is a secret known only to a few."

"Like the Director?" I guessed.

"Oh no, I could never tell him that! I would ruin my reputation as a respected informant if he ever knew . . .no, a few of my old friends know and Mina's husband Charles, who is a wizard, but no one else. It's not something I'm proud of. I was glad to change my name to Proctor when I married, because Hawthorne was too well known around here. I wanted people to forget, and they have, mostly . . .until recently."

I was alarmed at her revelation, though at the same time I wished I could tell her that my dad would never condemn her for the things her family had done, past or present. He was a firm believer in choosing your own destiny and judging people on their own merit and actions. I felt sorry for her, alone with her sister gone and what remained of her family was scum of the earth.

"Do you . . ." I paused and drank some lemonade, it was very good, homemade stuff not from Countrytime. " . . .do you think your nephew might have something to do with the notes?"

"I don't know, Tristan. He may have, last I heard he was high in the ranks of the Brotherhood. I would hope not, but it is possible. We were never close, he wasn't permitted to see me much growing up, his father didn't want me influencing him, the old bigot. I used to send him presents for Christmas and his birthday when he was a boy, but I stopped when he was sixteen and he'd sent the last one back."

I raised both eyebrows at that. How stupid could you get, to send back a present someone had gotten you? It was rude and cruel. "But why would he target you?"

"Perhaps because he's embarrassed by me, an old lady who lives alone with only her cats for company. Or perhaps the Brotherhood learned about Mina and how I helped hide her all those years ago." She spread her hands ruefully. "Who knows? The Brotherhood does what it does for its own reasons and they aren't ones I can fathom, child. All I can do is hope that they're stopped before they start killing, the way they did back during 1963."

"1963? Wasn't that the year Kennedy was assassinated?"

"Yes, and Martin Luther King Jr. also. You know your history then." She nodded approvingly at me. "The country was in a state of shock, and it was then that the Brotherhood chose to start their cleansing campaign again. Ten families were slaughtered before the Hunters managed to protect them and the Brotherhood went back underground. But this was how it started last time, with threats and then when that didn't work, the Brotherhood started attacking supposed witches and their families, or anyone they felt was a sympathizer."

"But the Director knows, he won't let that happen again."

"We can hope so. But he's only one man, Tristan, and even he can't be everywhere. It's best to be prepared. Show your teacher that note when he returns and tell him to cast wards over your house and your family. And keep a suitcase packed just in case you have to leave in a hurry. Be careful, son. I can sense a great danger coming."

"When?"

"I don't know. But soon. The Headquarters of the Brotherhood is here in Salem. On Rochester Street, in the old mansion where Judge Hawthorne used to host banquets. My family still owns it and my nephew has given them permission to use it. I believe they're recruiting again, not all their members are from families around here. They like to recruit young, believing that a child's mind is more receptive to their doctrine than an adult's mostly. Like the Hitler Youth back in Germany. But that's all I know. I'm sorry I couldn't be more help, Tristan."

I smiled at her. "Actually, you were a lot of help, Evelyn. Now I know what we're up against," I said sincerely. And it scared me to death. I left soon afterwards, and told her to be careful too. Her and her cats.

"I will. Don't worry, Director Snape put wards around my house and property himself, so no one who intends to hurt me can get by. They'll be turned away if they try, thrown across the street if they try more than once," she said with a secret smile.

I waved once then hurried to where the cab was waiting. I made it back to the hotel just before noon, slipped back in my room, canceled the illusion spell over my pillows, got back in my pajamas and crawled into bed. I just remembered to recast the sunburn glamour over myself again before I fell asleep.

Next: The twins and Gavin go exploring Salem