Read Online A Spell for the Revolution by C. C. Finlay - Free Book Online
Authors: C. C. Finlay
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Finally, Magdalena broke the silence. “Who or what this wild goose is? Tell us everything.”
“Revere brought word of a young boy, an orphan, on Long Island, who may be a witch,” Proctor said. “He shows the talent. His neighbors have started to fear him.”
Abby was the first to speak. She came from a family of eleven, with both her parents living, and her grandparents not half a mile away; more often than not, she seemed to think that if she didn’t speak first she would never get the chance. “Oh, the poor boy,” she said.
“We don’t need another child here,” Deborah said.
Zoe thumped down in her seat so hard everyone stopped to look at her. She ducked her face behind her bangs, glowering.
“I only mean, he’ll be in danger,” Deborah explained quickly.
“He’s already in danger,” Proctor said. “The British army is on Staten Island, and battle is expected any day. And we know the Covenant wants him. Cecily Sumpter Pinckney has been seen in New York, looking for him, just a few days past.”
“We could use a boy,” Ezra said. “We always had boys on our ships—they’re good for all kinds of work.”
“Chores are nothing,” Abby said, with the attitude of someone who rose before dawn every morning to do the milking. “But that boy must be so frightened. I know how I felt when my talent first started to show. I was surroundedby my family, with my mother and my aunt born with the talent, and them telling me what to expect. But this boy, I’m sure he’s got nobody.”
Her pride in her family showed in her voice. She was the daughter of Margaret Lamb, a friend of Deborah’s mother and a witch who lived up the Hudson River in New York. They were good people, Proctor thought, even if their talent for magic didn’t extend much past easing childbirth and remedying a few common ills. Abby had more talent than the rest of her family combined.
Sukey shook her head. “I have to agree with Deborah this time. If there’s danger here, we have no right to bring a child into it.”
“Oh, that would be so wrong,” Esther squeaked.
“This Sissy person, she’s the one who tried to kill you last year, right?” Abby said.
“Yes, she is,” Proctor said.
“Well, then he’s in danger there,” Abby said, exasperated. “We have to do something.”
Zoe popped out of her chair. “Yeah!”
“Don’t be fools,” Sukey responded. “He could already be dead. It’s a wild goose chase.”
“This orphan boy might not have parents,” Proctor said. “But he’s staying with somebody’s family. I don’t want anyone else to stumble into a scene like the one I found at the Walker farm in Virginia.”
“And you think you’re powerful enough to stop this Bootzamon creature?” Deborah asked. She glanced at the others. “If he’s there with Cecily.”
“I did it once,” Proctor said.
But he was also thinking that he could draw Bootzamon away from The Farm. All he had to do was let the creature know where he was going, and why.
And then survive.
Deborah’s mouth was pursed to argue more when Magdalena, the only person who had yet to voice an opinion, interrupted.
“I think we should call a meeting. We must find the way forward until we come to a unity.”
Deborah’s face went still.
Meeting was a habit that Deborah’s mother had borrowed from the Quakers. When the witches on The Farm needed to decide something, they prayed and discussed it together until they reached a consensus. Deborah had continued the practice, but Proctor could see it was beginning to chafe with the way she wanted to run things herself.
The others were familiar with the practice too. As soon as Magdalena suggested it, tempers began to cool down.
“That’s a good idea,” Proctor said.
“That’s a
very
good idea,” Sukey said, her long narrow hand absentmindedly patting Esther on the arm. “It’ll be just like a town meeting, dear.”
“I don’t care for town meetings or politics,” Esther
“Revere brought word of a young boy, an orphan, on Long Island, who may be a witch,” Proctor said. “He shows the talent. His neighbors have started to fear him.”
Abby was the first to speak. She came from a family of eleven, with both her parents living, and her grandparents not half a mile away; more often than not, she seemed to think that if she didn’t speak first she would never get the chance. “Oh, the poor boy,” she said.
“We don’t need another child here,” Deborah said.
Zoe thumped down in her seat so hard everyone stopped to look at her. She ducked her face behind her bangs, glowering.
“I only mean, he’ll be in danger,” Deborah explained quickly.
“He’s already in danger,” Proctor said. “The British army is on Staten Island, and battle is expected any day. And we know the Covenant wants him. Cecily Sumpter Pinckney has been seen in New York, looking for him, just a few days past.”
“We could use a boy,” Ezra said. “We always had boys on our ships—they’re good for all kinds of work.”
“Chores are nothing,” Abby said, with the attitude of someone who rose before dawn every morning to do the milking. “But that boy must be so frightened. I know how I felt when my talent first started to show. I was surroundedby my family, with my mother and my aunt born with the talent, and them telling me what to expect. But this boy, I’m sure he’s got nobody.”
Her pride in her family showed in her voice. She was the daughter of Margaret Lamb, a friend of Deborah’s mother and a witch who lived up the Hudson River in New York. They were good people, Proctor thought, even if their talent for magic didn’t extend much past easing childbirth and remedying a few common ills. Abby had more talent than the rest of her family combined.
Sukey shook her head. “I have to agree with Deborah this time. If there’s danger here, we have no right to bring a child into it.”
“Oh, that would be so wrong,” Esther squeaked.
“This Sissy person, she’s the one who tried to kill you last year, right?” Abby said.
“Yes, she is,” Proctor said.
“Well, then he’s in danger there,” Abby said, exasperated. “We have to do something.”
Zoe popped out of her chair. “Yeah!”
“Don’t be fools,” Sukey responded. “He could already be dead. It’s a wild goose chase.”
“This orphan boy might not have parents,” Proctor said. “But he’s staying with somebody’s family. I don’t want anyone else to stumble into a scene like the one I found at the Walker farm in Virginia.”
“And you think you’re powerful enough to stop this Bootzamon creature?” Deborah asked. She glanced at the others. “If he’s there with Cecily.”
“I did it once,” Proctor said.
But he was also thinking that he could draw Bootzamon away from The Farm. All he had to do was let the creature know where he was going, and why.
And then survive.
Deborah’s mouth was pursed to argue more when Magdalena, the only person who had yet to voice an opinion, interrupted.
“I think we should call a meeting. We must find the way forward until we come to a unity.”
Deborah’s face went still.
Meeting was a habit that Deborah’s mother had borrowed from the Quakers. When the witches on The Farm needed to decide something, they prayed and discussed it together until they reached a consensus. Deborah had continued the practice, but Proctor could see it was beginning to chafe with the way she wanted to run things herself.
The others were familiar with the practice too. As soon as Magdalena suggested it, tempers began to cool down.
“That’s a good idea,” Proctor said.
“That’s a
very
good idea,” Sukey said, her long narrow hand absentmindedly patting Esther on the arm. “It’ll be just like a town meeting, dear.”
“I don’t care for town meetings or politics,” Esther
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