During the course of this story, every portion that is written in first person (like in the beginning) is always going to be the Book's point of view. Just in case that helps to clear up any confusion later on. Thanks!

1999

-.-

Dani surveys the Colonial-fashioned crowd huddled before her in complete awe. Their faces reflect back a perfect blend of horror and anger while they stare back up at her. She is semi-aware there's some kind of rope or cable tugging at her neck if she looks too far left or too far right. When she does though, she sees two very familiar faces. Two familiar witches—Sarah and Mary Sanderson. She's standing in the middle of them, hands bound together. Thunder clouds roll in high above them and each time the lightning flashes, Dani catches better glimpses of her surroundings through the black of night. The land circling around her appears more rustic, fresher, less affected by modern-day construction and metropolitan housing.

When she looks down, she sees old green fabric covering her.

At the head of the crowd, there is a man speaking to her. He fondles the woman at his side tightly (his wife, Dani guessed) as if he's keeping her from lashing out or fainting. But his words are muffled and buzzing until Dani tries to concentrate on him better, which actually does help her to tune him all the way in clearly. "...I will ask thee one final time."

Dani gaped at him, not knowing what else to do.

"What has thou done with my son, Thackery?" He demands from her, eyes growing steely.

Son? He's Binx's father?

Dani opens her mouth to defend herself, to tell him she's a friend of his son, but she's cut off by another pulse of thunder in the sky that makes her flinch. Mister Binx begins to shout at her. "Answer me!"

She just hears Sarah cackling now before the rope rubs the wrong way against her neck as well. "Listen, this...is terribly uncomfortable," the witch says, rather foolishly.

Dani rolls her eyes.

Then, abruptly, Sarah and Mary both begin to sing a chant. "Ahhhh-uhh. Thrice I with mercury purify and spit upon the Twelve tables!"

Men start to call out from the back of the crowd. "Cover your ears! Listen to them not!"

A boy, seemingly around Binx's age threw a book he's holding—the spell book—to the ground in that same moment, acting as if the book has just bitten him.

The spell book however lands right in front of Dani's barrel and its old evil pages flicker open to reveal a particular incantation to her. On impulse, Dani skims over the text, drowning out the villagers' cries once again.

She can make out something about Samhian Night coming again in the future when the Harvest Moon is full round, and a virgin shall be needed for a resurrection.

Dani pieces the whole puzzle together and realizes what must be taking place.

It's Winifred's curse.

The Sister Witches hang tonight!

And before she can react any further, Mister Binx loses his patience with them and gives his executioner the signal.

The barrels that are supporting them give way and Dani feels herself plunge forward...

It was after midnight when Jenny woke to a thumping sound. At first, she thought it was Dave snoring, but a softer thump followed and she rose up to listen. It was originating from the kitchen.

Shuffling down the halls, Jenny headed towards the little source of light beneath the microwave to discover Dani sitting alone at the table, in her usual spot, a mug of juice cradled between her hands.

"Dani, it's late." Her daughter glanced up at her when she strolled in.

"Yeah, I know," Dani muttered softly, with a drop of fatigue in her voice. "I just couldn't sleep."

"Dreams keeping you up again?"

Dani nodded. "I feel like...," she trailed off as she gestured with her hands, searching for the most rational response.

Jenny, who was slightly surprised by how Dani was finally willing open up to her, stroked her daughter's hair encouragingly, eagerly. "What, honey?"

Shaking her head then, Dani mentally retreated back into her shell. "I don't know, like something big is about happen. Maybe's it's nothing."

Jenny pressed her lips together into a thin line and watched as Dani rose from the chair to peck her cheek, moving back upstairs.

For hours on end, days even, Dani thought about the dream and the hidden meaning behind it.

And it wasn't just that one time. It invaded her subconscious every night since, which made it impossible to ignore in the end. Whenever she would close her eyes in bed, it would suck her back into the same moment in time. The same situation: she'd be tied up, freshly prepared to be hung along with Mary and Sarah, and just as the barrels rolled away, she would wake, feeling like she was cheating death all over again.

The dream seemed so detailed, so real...and her gut kept telling her it was real. That it had actually happened just as she witnessed.

Dani spent her lunch periods doing a bit of research in the school library. She read up on lore about dream omens, but nothing was fitting the exact description of what she was experiencing at home. The oddest part of it was—in the dream, she was just there to watch from what had to be Winifred's point of view. She wasn't there to necessarily play Winifred's role. She had no personal control over the dialogue or the outcome of the hanging. No one in the dream seemed to count her as a different person. They mere saw what they wanted to see.

It honestly felt like a residual haunting—almost like being stuck in a movie clip that kept replaying itself over and over. The more it did happen though, the more aware Dani became of it happening.

She was picking up names of the people present to watch her hang. Elijah was the name of the boy who held the book. And if she really strained her ears, Dani swore she could hear a cat meowing in the background.

Other than that, Dani was at a loss.

She vaguely remembered Allison had gone to an Occult shop near Salem years ago for purifying salt; so Dani wondered if the owner would have answers for her...or maybe just a new insight on the situation in the very least. But Dani knew she couldn't legally drive herself just yet, and who around Salem would give her a lift to an Occult shop anyways without asking her all sorts of judgmental questions?

Allison herself rose to the front of Dani's mind...then again, with her being extra busy in college and Dani being in high school now, the only contact they shared was a friendly phone call about once a month, or a simple "hello" card.

However alone Dani felt in these conditions though, she was just as determined to get to the bottom of it. She was a clever girl when it really counted, right? She wouldn't—shouldn't—waste any more time running away from the unknown.

Her dreams were trying to inform her of something, and she wanted to know what it was.

Two more weeks passed and Dani woke in the middle of the night as expected, sweating, and she sat up in bed, nerves still stimulated by the dream.

And there she stayed, sitting in the darkness with her mind reeling with thoughts.

Then eventually, she slid from her bed, stepped into her slippers, and quietly scuffled into Max's old bedroom, aiming for the widow watch tower. Climbing out of the window, Dani laid back across the cool rooftop, gazing at the moon that was half-covered by a misty cloud. She stared at it until he seemed to draw a little closer to the earth. She felt an energy surge pulsing through her bloodstream. A whispering wind teased the top line of her hair.

What was the common denominator in this residual dream?

What if her answers...were buried in the one place her dreams pulled her back to?

As usual, Spring Semester of sophomore year began after Christmas Break.

Not long after that, Max had applied for a part time job as a receptionist at the bank down the block from the dorms. He originally attended college for an advanced musical education, hoping to shape his talent and skill into something more. But naturally between intuition, food, and the other common necessities he knew his parents could only chip in so much at a time.

The one thing that somewhat bothered Max though, was how utterly mundane his routine turned out to be since the last year and a half.

Along the way, he just started to automatically float from one aspect of his life to another.

Classes, work, essays, work, classes, work, a weekend trip home, exams, the holidays, work.

Max later supposed that was normal—average—and with all things considered, he shouldn't be complaining about leading an average life. Then why was he was still...waiting for something to happen? Why did he think something was missing in the distance and he just couldn't find it?

One rainy afternoon, he was at the drugstore purchasing a bottle of aspirin, and as he turned to make his exit, he collided with another body.

Recovering his breath, Max found himself looking apologetically into the sharp gold-brown eyes of a young woman, tan, and in her twenties herself. In truth she was beautiful, almost in a bad way. Her straight dark brown hair flowed down her chest, her full lips were glossed a deep red and she was wearing some type of classy black leather outfit, fitted pants, shin-high boots and a biker's jacket buckled all the way up the torso.

"I'm sorry."

"Maxwell David Dennison," the woman replied coolly.

"Do we have class together or something?"

"Nah," she shrugged playfully, "college isn't really my style."

Max nodded slowly in confusion. "Okay. So...you know my name because...?"

"Because you had a close encounter with witches, right?"

Hesitating now, Max looked around, unsure what to make of this startling conversation.

Was it a joke? Was there a hidden camera mocking him?

The woman however was still gazing at him in a confident manner, waiting for him to react.

All Max could think to do however, was lower his voice to her before he made for the main doors and stomped outside. "I don't know what you're trying to do here...but just leave me the hell alone, okay?"

"This isn't a con, Maxwell!" the women called to his back, provoking him to turn back around after she happened to follow him all the way down the sidewalk. "I've kept tabs on you since you started school here last year."

That had certainly re-snagged his attention, though it was mainly due to feeling violated. And she happily took this as a sign to fully explain herself. Moving forward, she planted herself at a close distance again, and she continued, "My name is Valerie Stakes. My family is part of this longstanding low-key organization that hunts down black magic users and other supernatural phenomena. We deal with the things that go bump in the night."

Max scoffed at her. "So. You live like the Ghost Busters...except with evil witches and stuff?"

Valerie rolled her eyes in sheer annoyance, like she maybe had already heard that comment before and now it was just getting old. "That's overrated fiction," she stressed, "but hey, if that's still the only analogy that will help you here, then sure."

"I just don't get what that has do with me. I'm obviously not an old hag going around using black magic."

"No, I know you're not, but the bottom line is that we have ways to find those traces of evidence and they led me to your house in Salem right after the Halloween of '93. So off and on my father had sent me back just to check up on it. We needed to make sure it was nothing bigger than what it was."

Learning about this, the spark of irritation inside of Max's eyes ignited spontaneously to a fire of slient rage. Despite being within public earshot, he could hardly control the sudden shake beneath his tone, "I could have you arrested for stalking, and possibly harassment!"

She clicked her tongue at him. "You could try, though you'll have no proof when the police ask for it."

"Look—you can say it's your job to go witch hunting all you want," Max argued, very incredulously so, "but that was my family, my life you were peeking into without permission. And I can tell you right now, there was nothing more to see anyway! The hags that were in Salem that year are gone. I was there. I watched them burst into dust."

"Which is why I am talking to you now, Maxwell—"

"Max."

"Whatever. You could actually be helpful to us...if only you'd just give it a chance." She tilted her head then with another brief smile, inviting Max to follow her around the corner.

Max's conscience battled with itself while he turned and trailed behind the witch hunter. He wouldn't deny a lesser part of him was feeding off the adrenaline. Though his ultimate reasoning led him to believing she would blackmail his family in some way if he didn't.

After a few steps they happened to wander off the sidewalk and stopped in front of a black Cadillac. Valerie was already in the process of pulling out the keys from her pocket to unlock the driver's door, "Get in."

"To go where?" he barked.

"Oregon."

I cannot say that I am partially surprised when I eventually hear someone enter the Witch Cabin.

Nevertheless, it does intrigue me, for I have been drifting in and out of consciousness lately and boredom has been weighing quite heavily on me.

I may not be too aware of the year anymore or what day it is, though I am fully aware of a source of the energy that floods towards me, and it fuels me...makes me feel refreshed. I have felt this way each time Mistress Winifred would use my spells and recipes.

My lid snaps open and there she is, the smallest of the trio! Dani, they had called her.

But the youngling is taller, and more woman now than child. Her long fair curls have darkened with maturity but her doll like face hasn't changed much, and I still recognize her immediately. She gingerly closes the door behind her, glancing over shoulder while doing so. Then slowly walking over the floorboards, she meanders from the cauldron to the space beneath the storage loft above us, her fingertips running across the varying artifacts, as if she is letting her skin soak in the memories.

Then she stops, tensely, feet before my podium, staring directly into my eye.

I blink once. And after I do so, I can see she is trying her best to maintain her composure. Either I must be a very strange sight to her still or she simply wasn't expecting to see me here at all.

Although, I am but a Grimoire and she can walk on two feet, so I wait for her to make the first move. I peer at her, to urge her to come my way, to touch my pages.

I honestly have no intention of harming her and I want her to distinguish this.

"The witches are dead." I hear her speak delicately. "How are you still awake?"

But her last words are biting and a bit guarded, and I have to admire that. Her good heart will not trust me so easily, which is just fine, because at least that presents me with a new experiment to fill my time with instead. Yet I attempt to communicate in the only way I can manage.

Throwing my front cover flat over the podium, I flip through my pages until I land on the most appropriate passage that correlates to my inner reflections:

These Pages of Witchery are made and written by magickal forces, thus they shall forever be guarded and preserved by the same magick as well. May no common weapon or elements handled by mortal hands alone be able to penetrate thine Grimoire.

She doesn't know that even though I am laying wide open now, I can still watch her as she reads to herself through the magical lens beneath the pages too.

"Binx said you were protected by magic," she tells me. "So...what are you going to do now then? Hurt me?"

I sense it is my turn to reply again and I flash back to my opening page.

"All witches Dark or Light must forever bide this Magickal Creed:

What ye sends forth comes back to thee,
Follow this with mind and heart,

For everything from them is times three."

"Do I take that as a no?"

I slam shut to confirm that.

She released a heavy breath, contemplating our encounter, and she ran her delicate fingers through her hair. Finally, by the look in her eyes she appeared to reach some form of decision. "Well, in any case, I suppose shouldn't just leave you here for someone else to find you."

Levitating myself from the podium, I hovered in the air right in front of her, waiting patiently.

"But I still don't know what I'm going to do with you once we get home," she added with more trepidation in her voice when she did reach for me, trying to shield me the best she could under her lightweight coat.

How I wish I could actually smile in amusement. I never felt so alive in ages.

She has much to learn yet...this little witch.