Read Online A Spell for the Revolution by C. C. Finlay - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: C. C. Finlay
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said meekly, with her eyes downcast. “But I should very much like the shouting to stop.”
“But what’s the point? We’ll all agree that we have to help him,” Abby said. Zoe stood behind her, nearly obscured by the larger girl, but her face peeked over Abby’s shoulder and she nodded agreement.
Deborah bristled. “We will not—”
“We will be quiet,” Magdalena snapped. When Deborahclamped her mouth shut, the old Dutch woman repeated herself, more softly. “We will begin all of us by being quiet.”
Proctor pulled up a chair and squeezed in at the corner of the table between Abby and Magdalena. He held out his hands palms-up, ready to grasp his neighbors’ hands for prayer. Zoe hopped back into her seat on Abby’s other side.
“If we captained a ship this way, we’d never find our way out of port,” Ezra grumbled. “But this is what we’re fighting England for, isn’t it? The right to rule ourselves. So if this is what we’re doing, I’m for it.” He fell into his seat, next to Esther.
The only empty chair left was Deborah’s, at the end of the table opposite Magdalena.
The two women stared at each other, the old one sitting, the younger one standing. There was so much suppressed anger between them, Proctor thought the air might burst into flame. Finally, Deborah sighed and took her seat.
They had neatly divided themselves, Proctor saw. Magdalena sat at one end of the table, with Proctor, Abby, and Zoe at her right hand. Deborah sat at the other, with Ezra, Esther, and Sukey at her right.
Seven candles burned on the table, the greasy threads of smoke twisting upward into a single cord. This group was not going to find unity that easily, Proctor thought. Getting all eight of them to agree would be powerful magic indeed.
“Let us pray,” Magdalena said at the exact same moment Deborah said, “We’ll begin with prayer.”
The two women glared at each other, and each nodded her head in deference. Then, at the same time, both held out their hands to start the prayer.
Proctor grasped the hands on either side. Magdalena’s knuckles were swollen, her grip arthritic but determined. Abby took his other hand like a farm boy, ready to crush his fingers.
When the circle was completed, he felt a tingle flow from hand to hand, like water moving through a waterwheel.
“Friends,” Deborah said before Magdalena could speak. “We are gathered here to seek God’s will regarding the orphan boy on Long Island who may be a witch.” She bowed her head. “Lord, we pray for guidance, that we may come to a clear understanding of Your purpose for us, so that we may walk in Your light and do Your will.”
“Amen,” Abby said.
They released hands and the tingle stopped.
The opening prayer was followed by silent prayer, so that all the members of the circle could find their inner Light, the voice of God, revealing His will. Proctor lowered his head, but he couldn’t keep his eyes closed. Every time he shut them, he saw the bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Walker, scalped and bloody.
He was moved to say something about that, and why it was a reason to act, but Deborah cleared her throat.
“It’s important that we be united in this,” she said. “Yes, this orphan boy is in danger. But so are many others, and we can’t go running off after all of them. The fact is, we’re in danger. We need to study and get stronger, then we can be prepared to help others.”
It was considered polite to wait after someone spoke at meeting, to give everyone time to digest one set of thoughts before hearing another.
Abby started to talk the second Deborah finished. “If we’re going to help people eventually, let’s start with this boy right now.” She looked around the table. “When the talent first started to show for me, it came in my dreams. I would dream that I was flying and then wake up floating above my bed.”
“And today she can’t lift a single stone,” Sukey murmured to Esther.
Abby scowled across
“But what’s the point? We’ll all agree that we have to help him,” Abby said. Zoe stood behind her, nearly obscured by the larger girl, but her face peeked over Abby’s shoulder and she nodded agreement.
Deborah bristled. “We will not—”
“We will be quiet,” Magdalena snapped. When Deborahclamped her mouth shut, the old Dutch woman repeated herself, more softly. “We will begin all of us by being quiet.”
Proctor pulled up a chair and squeezed in at the corner of the table between Abby and Magdalena. He held out his hands palms-up, ready to grasp his neighbors’ hands for prayer. Zoe hopped back into her seat on Abby’s other side.
“If we captained a ship this way, we’d never find our way out of port,” Ezra grumbled. “But this is what we’re fighting England for, isn’t it? The right to rule ourselves. So if this is what we’re doing, I’m for it.” He fell into his seat, next to Esther.
The only empty chair left was Deborah’s, at the end of the table opposite Magdalena.
The two women stared at each other, the old one sitting, the younger one standing. There was so much suppressed anger between them, Proctor thought the air might burst into flame. Finally, Deborah sighed and took her seat.
They had neatly divided themselves, Proctor saw. Magdalena sat at one end of the table, with Proctor, Abby, and Zoe at her right hand. Deborah sat at the other, with Ezra, Esther, and Sukey at her right.
Seven candles burned on the table, the greasy threads of smoke twisting upward into a single cord. This group was not going to find unity that easily, Proctor thought. Getting all eight of them to agree would be powerful magic indeed.
“Let us pray,” Magdalena said at the exact same moment Deborah said, “We’ll begin with prayer.”
The two women glared at each other, and each nodded her head in deference. Then, at the same time, both held out their hands to start the prayer.
Proctor grasped the hands on either side. Magdalena’s knuckles were swollen, her grip arthritic but determined. Abby took his other hand like a farm boy, ready to crush his fingers.
When the circle was completed, he felt a tingle flow from hand to hand, like water moving through a waterwheel.
“Friends,” Deborah said before Magdalena could speak. “We are gathered here to seek God’s will regarding the orphan boy on Long Island who may be a witch.” She bowed her head. “Lord, we pray for guidance, that we may come to a clear understanding of Your purpose for us, so that we may walk in Your light and do Your will.”
“Amen,” Abby said.
They released hands and the tingle stopped.
The opening prayer was followed by silent prayer, so that all the members of the circle could find their inner Light, the voice of God, revealing His will. Proctor lowered his head, but he couldn’t keep his eyes closed. Every time he shut them, he saw the bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Walker, scalped and bloody.
He was moved to say something about that, and why it was a reason to act, but Deborah cleared her throat.
“It’s important that we be united in this,” she said. “Yes, this orphan boy is in danger. But so are many others, and we can’t go running off after all of them. The fact is, we’re in danger. We need to study and get stronger, then we can be prepared to help others.”
It was considered polite to wait after someone spoke at meeting, to give everyone time to digest one set of thoughts before hearing another.
Abby started to talk the second Deborah finished. “If we’re going to help people eventually, let’s start with this boy right now.” She looked around the table. “When the talent first started to show for me, it came in my dreams. I would dream that I was flying and then wake up floating above my bed.”
“And today she can’t lift a single stone,” Sukey murmured to Esther.
Abby scowled across
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