{SAM’S POV}A girl stood in the entryway to the barn, leaning casually against the wall.Wow.She was stunning.She had long, wavy, red hair, bright green eyes. A perfect body. And she looked about his age, maybe a few years older. Wow. She was smoking.Sam stood.He could hardly believe it, but the way she stared at him, it looked like she was flirting, like she was really into him. He’d never seen a girl look at him quite like that. He couldn’t believe his luck.“I’m Samantha,” she said sweetly, stepping forward and extending one hand.Sam stepped forward and placed his hand in hers. Her skin was so soft.Was he dreaming? What was this girl doing here, in the middle of nowhere? How did she even get here? He didn’t hear a car pull up, or even hear anyone walking towards the barn. And he’d just got there. He didn’t understand.“I’m Sam,” he said.She smiled wide, revealing perfect, white teeth. Her smile was incredible. Sam felt his knees going weak, as she looked direct
Caleb and I stood beside the river, staring into each other’s eyes.I trembled as I worried if he were about to say goodbye.But then something caught his eye, and his line of vision suddenly shifted. He looked at her neckline, and seemed transfixed.He reached out, and I felt his fingers brush my throat. I felt metal. My necklace. I had forgotten I was wearing it.He lifted it and stared.“What is this?” he asked softly.I reached up and put my hand over his. It was my cross, my small, silver cross.“Just an old cross,” I answered.But before I’d finished saying the words, I realized: it was old. It had been in my family for generations. I hadn’t remembered who gave it to me, or when, but I knew it was ancient. And that it had belonged to my father’s side. Yes. It was something. Maybe even a clue.He stared intently, examining it.“This is no normal cross,” he said. “Its edges are curved. I haven’t seen one like this for a thousand years. It is the cross of Saint Peter,” he
Kyle walked excitedly down the cobblestone streets of the South Street Seaport, doubling his pace. He had pictured this moment for years.He turned the corner, and he could already begin to see it. The ship. His ship.Disguised as a historic sailing ship on display from a European country, it would be docked at the Seaport for a week. How stupid these humans were. They could believe almost anything. Too trusting to think to check the hull of a piece of history. To realize that it could be the means of their death. Their Trojan horse.Adding stupidity to stupidity, inane tourists flocked around the ship, delighted to see this piece of history under their noses. If only they knew.Kyle elbowed his way past the crowds, and headed down an alleyway. Four hulking men stood guard, but when they looked up and saw him coming, they all nodded in recognition and quickly stepped aside. All members of his race. All dressed in black, and as tall as he. Kyle could feel the rage coming off of them
Sam couldn’t believe his luck. He was being shown around an awesome house by a gorgeous girl—a senior, no less—who seemed into him. She was hot. And really cool. And she had the entire place to herself. It was like an angel from God had come down and dropped her into his lap. He still couldn’t believe it. It was just what he needed, and at just the right time. He was afraid that any second all of his luck would turn, and she’d ask him to leave. But she didn’t seem in any rush to ask him to go. In fact, she seemed like she wanted company. And she didn’t even care that he’d been in her barn. In fact, she seemed to have liked finding him there. He couldn’t believe it. He’d never had any luck in his life like this before.As he walked around, he saw that her house was still basically empty. No food in the fridge, and not even that much furniture. There was just a random chair here and there, and a small couch. That made him feel good, cause he could help her. If she wanted. He could hel
“It’s funny you should ask,” Sam said, “because I actually have been trying. I’ve always wanted to know. But I never found anything. Until last week.”Her eyes opened wide in surprise. Sam was surprised by how excited she looked. He couldn’t really understand it. Why would she care?“Really?” she asked. “Where is he?”“Well, I don’t know exactly, but we’ve been talking on Facebook. He says he wants to see me.”“So? Why don’t you see him?”“I want to. It just has all gone down so fast. I guess I just need to make a plan.”“What are you waiting for?” she asked, smiling.Sam thought. She was right. What was he waiting for?“Why don’t you write him back? Make a plan to see him? You know, if you don’t set a plan, things never happen. If it were me, I’d message him right now,” she said.Sam looked into her eyes, and as he did, he felt his thoughts shifting. Everything she said made so much sense. It was weird: he almost felt like every time she said something, the thought became his
As I flew with Caleb, arms wrapped around him, loving the feel of his body, I thought of how lucky I was. Just the day before, I’d been worried that Caleb would say goodbye. And now, for once, her luck had changed.Thank God for that necklace, I thought.It was late afternoon by the time we arrived in Salem. He set us down inconspicuously in an empty field on the outskirts of town, so no one would notice.They walked a few blocks, and arrived right on the Main Street of Salem.I was surprised. I had expected something more. I’d heard about Salem my whole life, from textbooks mostly, always in connection with the witches. But to see it as a real, living place, as an everyday town, I found quite strange. I had imagined it as a perfectly preserved, historic place in my head, almost like a stage set. To see normal, modern, everyday people living their lives, driving, hurrying to and fro, caught me off guard.Salem looked almost like any small, New England, suburban town. There were a
I was taken aback as we walked in the small graveyard, my mind still reeling. I had never been in a place this old before. When we had entered, a large sign had read “The Burying Point, 1637.” I marveled at the fact that people had been coming here for almost 400 years.More than that, I marveled that there were a few tourists wandering the cemetery right now. I had assumed we would have been the only ones here. But after all, this was Salem. And this cemetery was an attraction. People seemed to come here and treat it as a museum. In fact, I noticed that there was an actual museum adjacent to the burial plots. It didn’t feel right to me. I felt that this place should have been more sacred.The cemetery was small and intimate, the size of someone’s backyard. A cobblestone path twisted and turned its way throughout the place, and as I strolled, I marveled at how old the tombstones were, at their strange fonts, worn away with age. It was English, but it was so old, and so quaint, it alm
I searched everywhere.But there was no “Paine” here.It was another dead-end.“There’s nothing here,” I finally said.Caleb surveyed the graveyard one more time, and seemed clearly disappointed.“I know,” he said.I was afraid our search was really over this time. I couldn’t let it end here.“The rose and the thorn, the rose and the thorn,” I said, again and again, whispering it to myself, willing myself to find the answer.But nothing came.Caleb began to wander the path again, and I began to wander, too, thinking as I went.I soon came to another large plaque, nailed to a tree. At first I read just to distract myself, but as I continued reading, I suddenly became excited.“Caleb!” I yelled. “Hurry!”He hurried over.“Listen to this: ‘Not all of the witches who were persecuted are buried in this graveyard. In fact, only a small portion of them are. There were over 130 other witches on the ‘accused’ list. Some escaped, and some are buried elsewhere. For the complete list,