Page 103 of The Witch

JULA GET OT NOWW

I stare at the words, paralyzed with fear. Of all the things I’ve experienced in this house, this is the first clear sign that the spirit in this house wants me to leave. That they are breaking through the barrier between the dead and the living to give me this message.

I’ve got to bury this bone and get the hell out of here. As soon as the sun is up, I’m gone.

As carefully as I can, I make my way downstairs. When I put the shovel away in the garage after Gram dug up the bone in the first place, there were two shovels there. One of them is larger, and the other is a little smaller. I debate for a moment if I should grab the bigger, bulkier shovel or the smaller one. I finally take the smaller one, figuring I don’t have to dig that deep.

Then I head out to the backyard with my flashlight.

The hole my grandmother dug was all the way at the other end of the grounds. It rained earlier today, and my sneakers dig into the dirt, making a squishing sound with each step. On the plus side, it might be easier to dig in wet soil.

I pass the tree where I saw the noose hanging and keep walking, until I reach the very edge of the property, near that shed, just on the outskirts of the woods. I look down at my muddy sneakers, noticing that the grass hasn’t grown in an area roughly the shape of a rectangle. There’s nothing about a buried skeleton that should keep grass from growing, but there’s clearly something about this spot that kills anything that tries to live.

I start to dig.

The small shovel slides easily into the dirt. I scoop out one shovelful, then a second. Before long, I have created a sizable hole in the earth.

I look down at the hole, trying to decide if it’s big enough. I want Caroline (or whoever it is) to feel that their skeleton is at rest. How deep do I need to get for that? Two feet? Three? I know they say bodies are supposed to be buried six feet under, but I am not up for digging a six-foot hole—not in the middle of the night.

As I’m contemplating what to do, my phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s almost certainly not somebody texting me at nearly two in the morning but, more likely, some text messages that were sent earlier in the evening, when I didn’t have any reception, and they’re just now coming through.

I pull my phone out of my pocket. Sure enough, there are two new voicemails from Henry, sent around nine o’clock. Was he making another last-ditch effort to convince me to stay after the way he betrayed me? Fat chance of that.

But then I see the text message:

Call me when you get this.

He continued to send more text messages over the next few hours. The last one was sent just after midnight and is two words in all caps:

CALL ME!!!!!!!

That’s…strange. He didn’t say what he wanted to talk about, but I’ve never experienced such a sense of urgency coming from him before. This can’t possibly just be about me leaving town tomorrow, can it? No, it can’t be. It must be something else.

I listen to the two voicemails, trying to get a clue. The first one is brief and to the point: “Julia. Call me. As soon as you get this.” The second is even more succinct, just one frustrated-sounding word: “Julia…” Then a click as he hung up.

I check the time on my phone. It’s 1:45 in the morning. Surely, he’s asleep by now. Whatever he wants to tell me can wait until tomorrow morning. Especially since I’m in the middle of the backyard, digging a hole to bury a bone, and I’d like to get back to my bed as soon as possible.

Except…

I count the messages he sent me. Two voicemails, and ten texts total. Whatever he wanted to tell me, it was something very urgent. Urgent enough that if I don’t call him, I’m going to lie awake wondering what he wanted to tell me. Urgent enough that he might be lying awake too.

Before I can overthink it, I click on his number in my phone.

76

1692

CAROLINE

I jerk my head up at the sound of the scream.

I knew it would be perilous to return to Pemberton. I understood the risks, and that was why it proved quite the task for Jonas to persuade me. I expected there was a chance Archie or Molly could wander into the parlor while I tried to get into the drawer. But I did not expect a scream.

Or the second scream.

It is coming from upstairs, possibly from the bedroom I used to share with my husband. I remember the first time he showed it to me with a hint of pride in his voice. This is for you, Caroline. After the cramped cottage that I shared with my father, I was so happy. Archie made me so happy. I believed we would be together until⁠—

Another scream. This time the sound is punctuated by a gurgling noise.