Gabe chuckled in that smooth way of his, and he shrugged.
“I think it’s quaint.”
I snorted and shook my head, trying to dislodge the faint feelings of guilt that were welling in my chest as the tour guide recounted the trials.
I hadn’tmeantto kick start the event that had killed so many of Hecate’s people. We had been playing a game—and I had been trying to get back at her for the whole ‘Henry the 8th’ incident–but she’d been overcome by Raziel before she had been able to interfere with the mayhem I had kicked up, and by the time I’d realized what had happened to her, it had been too late.
I would never admit it out loud, but I kind of felt like shit about the whole thing, and being here brought up bad memories.
We passed the Witch House, and I watched Gabe take it in quietly, his head cocking to the side as he absorbed the imposing structure. The midnight clapboards that made up the facade gave it a delightfully sinister look, and the diamond-paned windows that adorned the steeply gabled frame twinkled like watchful eyes in the moonlight.
“Looks familiar,” Gabe commented dryly, and I smirked at him as we passed.
“I might have influencedsome of the design choices,” I explained, knowing that Gabe was referencing how the Witch House resembled the satanic church in Hell.
“Why am I not surprised?”
“I thought it would piss Hec off.”
“Did it?”
I sobered slightly, and Gabe frowned as I shook my head.
“She was gone before it was finished,” I whispered, and he looked like he wanted to reach for me again but thought better of it.
“We’ll find her.”
“Fucking right we will,” I grumbled.
As we approached Howard, the street narrowed, and the buildings became simpler. This part of Salem was less commercial and, by extension, less busy.
Trees lined the sidewalk, blocking out the light of the moon, and a cold, eerie breeze rolled through the leaves.
My ears pricked at the sound of unhinged laughter riding through the night.
I jerked my head toward the sound, my mood immediately taking a turn for the better.
“Fuckyes!”I exclaimed, grabbing Gabe by the elbow and dragging him toward Howard Street Cemetery.
“What is that?” Gabe asked, referencing the insane cackle of a man who was barely sane when he’d been alive. After centuries of haunting this shithole, I was sure he was even more off-kilter. In fact, I was betting on it.
“Giles Corey. I forgot about this asshole. This is fuckingperfect!”I purred with glee, and Gabe chuckled as he allowed me to drag him into the small yet ancient cemetery.
We passed weathered and crooked gravestones, their engravings softened by time. My Pradas made no sound on the uneven, hallowed ground, and I shivered with delight. The shadows came alive around us, my hellcats poking their noses in and out of the smoky night in soft whisps.
The trees creaked softly, and the faint glow of the street lamps flickered as Corey cackled again in the distance.
We found him sitting on one of the graves—it wasn’t evenhisgrave—and he turned milky dead eyes on us as we approached.
“Ah, Chaos! Right on time,” he babbled, taking a swig from an ancient bottle of ghostly booze.
I grinned. “Corey. You’re looking better than the last time I saw you.”
Gabe gave me a quizzical look, and I winked.
“He was accused of over two hundred counts of witchcraft and crushed to death over the course of two days. Fucker refused to admit to any of it. I think his last words before he finally died were, ‘More weight!’”
Say what you will about Giles Corey, he wasn’t exactly a stand-up citizen when he’d been alive, but you had to admit the dude was metal as fuck.
