Darkness for miles, that was all Cassie could see. A red-toned darkness like the insides of her own eyelids, but her eyes were wide open. She sensed the ramshackle house far out in the distance, hidden within the blackened night.
She called out, Scarlett!
Scarlett didn't come to Cassie in this dream - Cassie went to her. She forced her way through the pitch-black night as if blind and mad, holl ering Scarlett's name. It was like traveling through outer space in a starless universe, but with persistence Cassie hit upon what she was searching for. The house. And through the rickety door of the house, Cassie discovered Scarlett. She was bound at the wrists and ankles to a splintered wooden post, and she was screaming.
They were whipping her. Whoever they were. Cassie tried to make out the hunters' faces, but she couldn't. They didn't have faces; they were formless black entities like ghosts. She could only sense their trembling dark souls and how they were frightened to the point of brutality. It was their fear driving them, fear of the unknown, of the supernatural, of witchcraft. Like Holy War soldiers, their faith in their own righteousness was unbreakable, and their capacity for violence against their enemies was extreme. They whipped Scarlett mercilessly over and over again, unaffected by her screams.
Cassie wondered why the hunters didn't tape Scarlett's mouth shut, to quiet her. And then the thought occurred to her like a light being switched on. The hunters wanted Scarlett to talk, to spil information - not only the secrets of her magic, Cassie realized, but the secrets of the Circle, who they were and where to find them. Scarlett cried and shrieked and spit at the shapeless hunters, but no words escaped her bruised mouth. Was she bearing all this pain to protect the Circle? And to protect Cassie?
Her beaten body hung from the wooden post limp and wilted like a dying flower. Her face was a mess of blood and dirt, and one of her eyes had swelled completely shut.
Her damp red hair dripped like blood down her bony shoulders. She'd been stripped almost nude; her torso and legs were streaked with lash marks and purple welts. How much longer could she possibly take such abuse?
Like in the last dream she'd had, Cassie couldn't move.
Her feet were frozen in place at the doorway - from where she could see Scarlett but wasn't sure if Scarlett could see her. She called out to her from where she stood.
Scarlett, I know where you are, she said. And I'll be there soon. I promise.
With that, she jolted awake.
My sister, Cassie thought, my poor, dear sister. She'd rather Scarlett give the hunters what they wanted, to tell them the entire truth about the Circle, if it meant they'd release her alive. Better that than seeing her die to protect them. Scarlett had come to New Salem to seek out the them. Scarlett had come to New Salem to seek out the safety of the Circle, not the other way around. How had the situation come to this?
But Scarlett was still alive, that much Cassie was sure of.
And as long as she was still alive, there was still time to rescue her. Maybe if the Circle understood that Scarlett was being tortured for protecting them, they'd consider rescuing her a little more seriously. Maybe they'd finally accept her as one of their own.
And then there was a piercingly loud sound in Cassie's ear. She looked over at her nightstand and realized her phone was ringing, but who could be calling at this time of night?
"hello?" Cassie answered cautiously, half-believing it was going to be one of the ancient witch hunters from her dream on the other end of the line. But the scratchy voice that apologized for waking her belonged to Deborah.
"What's happened?" Cassie knew if Deborah was calling her in the middle of the night that someone was either hurt or dead, possibly both.
"Someone set Laurel's lawn on fire," Deborah said.