Page 11 of The Witches of Cambridge

If Cambridge was haunted, as people vowed it was, dusk was the hour when the oddest things happened. A stone in your shoe that reminded you of something you’d long ago forgotten, a voice calling your name, the chirping of frogs when there were none to be found, crows gathering above you, all of the twelve who had been in the dining room. Ava darted through the rusted gates of the Old Burial Ground, which was set between some shops and a church with a tall steeple. Cambridge had been a wilderness in the 1600s, a forlorn and dangerous place to some, but a haven to those who feared witch-hunters far more than they would ever fear the wolves who came to howl at the cemetery gates.

The iron fence had been erected by settlers who were convinced wolves would never cross a boundary that was man-made. That was the legend, but it was nothing more. Wolves went where they wished to, until the guns came out. Here there were the graves of Harvard presidents and professors, buried alongside the enslaved men and women they owned. Nearby were the headstones of soldiers of the Revolution, some of whom had been born into slavery and had fought bravely for a country where they had no rights. Wives and children were often nameless, buried in the grave of the man of the family, whose name was the only one carved in stone. The cemetery was no longer used and hadn’t been for some time, but there was a whispering in the trees that Ava could hear, as if the dead could still talk to the living.

I could tell you everything, if you would listen. I could open the door to the rest of your life.

To ward off ghosts, a person must pull on gloves and hold a spray of stinging nettle, but Ava had no fear of spirits, she had always heard them rustling in the trees back home, and so she went on. At the far side of the burying ground, she found that the gate had been padlocked with a heavy chain. There was no choice other than to climb the fence, despite her flared skirt and the patent leather flats she’d borrowed from Lauren. She wished she had gotten up the nerve to look for Jamie Mather after dinner. Instead, she’d merely peered out through the kitchen door so she could spy him in the dining room. There he was, sitting alone at a long table, folding and refolding a piece of paper, but he soon enough lost patience and left. When Ava stepped into the echoing, empty hall, she found he’d folded the paper into the shape of a crow. She picked it up to take with her when she left. Whether or not he’d meant for her to have it didn’t matter. It belonged to her now.

Ava was deep in thought as she landed on the other side of the cemetery fence, and she nearly stumbled over the black dog that had been tied to a metal post, but a low growl snapped her out of her reverie. There, right in front of her, was a snarling, wolfish thing huddled beside a hedge. Ava was accustomed to the ill-behaved dogs who guarded the orchards back home, wild sheepdogs who chased off skunks and raccoons and coyotes, along with townspeople. She was used to being threatened by people as well, especially when she walked home from school and girls hurled rocks at her back, calling her names and chasing her along the road. Then one day when she was running away, she noticed a rabbit in the grass, shivering, too afraid to move. That was when she decided she would not be a rabbit anymore. She picked up the poor creature and held him in her arms, then she took up a rock that had been thrown at her and threw it right back. The girls scattered, and that was that. They left her alone from then on. Ava had found she wasn’t frightened anymore. Every time she saw the rabbit she called him over and let him sit in her lap, and she vowed she would never let an abused creature go without her help.

She went to the dog outside the cemetery so that she could untie the fraying rope, even though his growl intensified. “Do you want to be free or not?” Ava said to him. She reached for the dinner roll she’d taken from the kitchen, and when she set it down the creature devoured it in two bites. He was some sort of German shepherd, so skinny she could see his ribs, clearly ill-treated, with marks around his neck from the rope cutting into his flesh. He quieted but continued to stare at her through narrowed yellow eyes. After she untied the dog and set him free, Ava walked on. Right away she heard a padding sound behind her. She did her best to shoo the creature away, but the stray persisted in following her all the way to Lilith House. He clearly wanted to accompany her.

“You can’t come in, silly,” Ava told him from the porch. “Go on. Find your way home.”

From her window on the topmost floor, Lauren spied Ava. She immediately closed her journal. Since she’d joined the society, Lauren’s talents had expanded. She had learned to concentrate on her gifts, and because of her attention, they had increased each week. Lately, she had been writing in a secret alphabet that she had discovered in a battered old edition in the Lilith library, a series of symbols used for left-handed magic. She made certain that the book was put away when anyone walked past in the hallway. She already felt that the power within her might frighten other people, for sometimes she unnerved herself with her abilities. Catch a bird and let it go. Speak its language and your own. Look into the future and see how the sun will set a year from now on this same day. Call clouds to you. Be fearless in the middle of a dark night.

“Hey,” she called out when Ava passed by. Ever since the first night, when she was nearly hit by a car, there was one thing Lauren knew for certain. Her fate and Ava’s were braided together, strands that were unbreakable no matter what. “I hope you know that black dogs are known to follow funerals and protect spirits,” Lauren said. “And if they’re yours, they’re loyal until death.”

“He’s not my dog.” Ava joined Lauren at the window, and as she looked onto the lawn, her heart went out to the poor creature, who was waiting patiently in the damp grass.

“He’s definitely yours,” Lauren said.

“Maybe he could tell I had an awful night,” Ava wondered. “I quit my job,” she admitted.

“Well, that lasted about five minutes.”

“It was more like an eternity.”

“I’d say I told you so, but I already did.”

“What would you say if a boy told you he dreamed about you?” Ava said.

“I would say he was full of shit. I’d wonder if he wasn’t some sort of maniac.”

“Right,” Ava said softly. Of course.

“Who is he?” Lauren asked.

“Someone at Eliot House. Jamie Mather.”

Lauren’s expression grew dark. She knew about the clannish, wealthy Mathers who’d been involved in the witch trials, judging whomever they pleased and finding them guilty with no proof at all. Her grandmother had once said they’d done something so dreadful to the Bell family they could never be forgiven. We would not be here if they’d had their way, Lauren’s grandmother told her, and when Lauren begged to hear more, her grandmother shook her head. Some things are too terrible to carry with us.

“Take my advice.” Lauren was serious. “Stay away from him, Ava.”

“I intend to.”

And yet when Ava fell asleep, Jamie Mather managed to make his way into her dreams. There he was, waiting for her, and it was up to her whether she went forward to meet him or ran as fast as she could in the other direction, so fast that she lifted off the ground.

Ava managed to snag a job waitressing at the Peacock Café, where she learned to make Italian espresso and fizzy almond sodas. She had far fewer problems with the customers, who were often leafing through poetry books, than she’d had with the boys at Eliot House. She often thought of Jamie Mather and wondered if she’d made a mistake in leaving the dining room at the dorm. Throughout the fall, she did her best to concentrate on her studies, staying up late, curled on her bed, bundled in a sweater, the dog who had indeed turned out to be hers stretched out on the floor. He had waited outside the door to Lilith House until she finally let him in, and once he was there, it seemed as if he’d always belonged to her. She’d named him Jack and had bought him a leash and a collar at the hardware store, not that she really needed them, for he was her shadow at all times. During that busy semester, Ava spied Jamie in Harvard Square on several occasions. Her heart blew up when she saw him, but he was always with one girl or another, girls who went to Palm Beach or France during their winter holidays, who laughed at how rude he was, girls who couldn’t have cared less about his bad reputation. Once they’d nearly slammed into each other in the doorway of the Peacock Café, where Ava now worked the evening shift. Jamie was leaving, accompanied by a beautiful girl with long black hair who slouched along beside him, her arm through his, acting as though he belonged to her.

“The silverware is on the floor,” Jamie said, nodding to a rear table, taunting Ava as he had in Eliot House, with the same wide grin.

“You should be careful. There are crows in the trees outside,” Ava said right back, thinking of how they had come to protect her in the dining room. “I wouldn’t want you to be frightened.”

“What is she talking about?” the girl with Jamie asked. A small building at Radcliffe had been named for her family in exchange for their generous donations. This girl had known Jamie since they were in nursery school, and she’d always thought if he settled down, he might be husband material.

“Absolutely nothing,” Jamie said, frowning, frustrated with himself for being so attracted to Ava. “Maybe I should buy you a drink sometime,” he blurted before he could stop himself. “Just to make sure you don’t curse me.”

“I don’t drink,” Ava said.