𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐃, and with it, pleasantly warm winds that tousled my curls as I gripped my basket with feigned vigor. Walking the streets of Salem had become more of a chore; I constantly felt the pressure of dozens of eyes watching my every move, and I would be lying if I said I believed they could not see the ghost at my side.

Elizabeth had scarcely vanished from my hip once I'd told her I'd do my best to help her. After all, assisting her in finding peace would likely provide me with some semblance of peace. Tensions were at an all-time high as accusations flew left and right. Two days prior, four more people had been arrested, one of whom was the pathetic excuse of a man who called himself Martha Corey's husband.

They'd wasted no time examining the men and women. And, naturally, they were all found guilty. In a sick, twisted way, I found pleasure in watching Giles Corey be found guilty. He'd believed himself to be immune after he condemned his wife to inevitable death. Parading himself around Salem with his head held high and a haughty smirk on his face, all the confidence he'd possessed vanished the second his hands were cuffed.

And I now knew what I had to do, per Elizabeth's orders. I knew it was wrong of me. I knew if there was a god, I'd be going to Hell. Did I care? I wasn't sure. But if I'd learned anything throughout the trials so far, it was that the strongest lived. Survival of the fittest was key.

I would help accuse Sarah Wildes.

In broad daylight, I'd utter devious lies that could lead to her life ending. But if I was right, and she was the reason so many were being accused with no basis, I'd be saving more than myself. I'd be saving my town.

"Do you remember where her house is?" Elizabeth asked from beside me, laying a hand behind her head as she floated. She seemed to have grown into her position as a ghost tethered to our realm–although I wasn't sure she had much choice in the matter–and her transparent feet had scarcely touched the ground once she'd found her groove.

Her instructions to me were simple: the Putnams hated Sarah, and she hated them. That much was obvious by Sarah's request for me to accuse one of them. If I were to give them a conveniently timed warning, I'd be saving both myself and whoever I'd have had to accuse.

Had thoughts of Elizabeth using this as a clever way to trick me into spilling a feigned confession of how I am a witch crossed my mind? I would be lying if I said I hadn't believed that at least once. But I wasn't a witch, and Elizabeth knew that well. After all, she'd been accused when she hadn't been a witch, hadn't she?

The corners of my lips twitched, and I did not look up; my attention was fixated on my boots as they splashed through a muddy puddle. "Of course I do. You may remember naught, but I remember plenty."

"It would be difficult for you to remember the structure of Salem if you met an untimely demise as well, Anne," Elizabeth said. Her words were solemn, but I could tell by the quiver in her voice she was trying not to laugh. "I hardly remembered who my own daughter was."

Her daughter. The thought of marching around town with the ghost of a girl I'd been graciously allowing to stay under my roof made my stomach churn. Not because I was seeing a ghost–hell, maybe I was a witch, or maybe I was just crazy–but because I still hadn't mustered up the courage to tell Abigail what had happened to her mother. I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to, but by now, I believe she'd caught on.

After her birthday had passed and her mother still hadn't returned, Abigail had turned to me with a tremble of her thin lip and tears brimming in her brown eyes. She'd hardly been able to contain her emotions as she asked me where her mother was; she'd never missed a birthday of Abigail's in the past, and they were supposed to take a trip to the local bakery to get Abigail a loaf of bread as celebration. The bread in Salem Village was so overpriced I was surprised Elizabeth could afford it with no husband.

It had taken all I had not to break down and tell her right there. For the child to be in such a vulnerable state meant she trusted me. I was not ready to break that trust just yet, and I would not be the reason a child broke down on her birthday. I'd be telling her soon. I hoped.

We neared the Putnam's house, an assortment of brown-hued paneling with windows scarcely providing light. The dark glass was not pooled with any candle light, which I found odd; it was typical for houses with minimal windows to light candles at any time of day.

I craned my neck, peering into the second floor as I neared the door. I readjusted my coif and petticoat, smoothing the black fabric, before knocking on their front door. The wait seemed to be an eternity, as I didn't dare exhale the breath I was holding.

After around a minute of waiting, the door creaked open. It scuffed their floorboards, but that didn't stop Thomas from swinging the door open fully. His fiery red hair was concealed by his felt hat, and his jowls quivered as he tilted his head.

"Anne?" he asked, blue eyes narrowed in inquisitive curiosity. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be tending to your house?"

I bit back a retort; typical for a man to expect me to be doing housework, but for now, I didn't care. All I needed to do was complete my mission. "Perhaps. But I come bearing news you may find more important than petty housework."

"Oh?" Thomas's eyebrows furrowed, and his harsh features only seemed to harden as he tightened his grip on his doorknob. He did not invite me in; in fact, he seemed to do the opposite as he shifted to the side to block more of the doorway. "What ever could it be?"

Is that mockery?

"You are well acquainted with Sarah Wildes, are you not?" I said, doing my best to not let my tone sour.

"Of course. She is... beloved by my family," Thomas replied, though, unlike me, his tone was starkly curt compared to his words. He turned his nose up, glowering at me through his frigid gaze. "Why do you ask?"

"She has asked me to do something devilish. I believe she is in line with the devil, if I may be honest," I said, having to force the words out. They felt unnatural, and I was well aware what I was doing was a sin, but I wanted to protect myself.

"What makes you say that? What has she requested of you?"

"She... she wanted me to accuse someone in your family of witchcraft. Of course, I refused, but I came straight here. I cannot let an innocent soul fall victim to her devious plans. I am unsure of what you can do to combat her, but I knew I had to warn you."

The utter hypocrisy in my words was almost enough to make me physically recoil. But I remained stalwart as I clasped my hands and pressed my lips together in a regretful smile.

"What? That... that... barbarian! That bitch!" Thomas's words were woven with a venom I knew all too well. Poisonous enough that I would see Sarah on trial soon enough. "Why?"

"I could not tell you. My suspicions are that she is practicing witchcraft, but I've no evidence. Based on her actions, however... Well, I think she is covering up her tracks, and accusing others who have done nothing is the safest way to do that."

Thomas's eye twitched, the faintest movement I barely noticed. He sighed, running a large, dry hand over his face and letting it linger on his beard. "I have feared this ever since the trials began. We have held a sort of... rivalry ever since I can remember. I've feared it will affect my children, but it seems the day of my children being in danger has come sooner than I'd have liked."

"You can still save them," I urged. "I've no ideas of my own, but you are an intelligent man. Surely you can come up with an idea before she is able to enact her plan. After I refused, she told me she would see your family dead one way or another."

Thomas was silent for a moment before dipping his head in a nod. A sliver of a groan passed through his lips as he shut his eyes momentarily. A moment later, his narrowed, caustic gaze softened ever so slightly. "Thank you, Anne. I will do my best to repay you once this madness is over for saving my family."

"Of course."

He shut the door, lips pressed together in a sullen frown, before his face vanished from view. I let out a sigh before turning to Elizabeth.

Perhaps he didn't truly believe me, and he'd report me to the village for crazed thoughts and lies. He'd believed me incredibly easily—though I supposed I wasn't too surprised. The feud between his family and Sarah had been long lasting, and he'd likely take any opportunity he could to get his family ahead.

"That felt awful," I said, making sure my words were hushed as I ran a hand through my brown hair. At this rate, it would be streaked with gray before I hit 40. "If people truly are accusing others just like that, how can they rest peacefully at night?"

"That is not for you to worry about," Elizabeth said, resting a hand on my shoulder. I resisted the urge to shiver at the icy feeling that leaked throughout my body. "It may have been wrong, but your survival is key right now. Without you, Sarah would have accused an entire family of innocent people."

"Yes, but now she is going to be the one suffering. Plus, Ann has accused an awful lot of people. Most of the townspeople who have been on trial so far, I reckon." I tightened my hand in my hair. "I'm starting to believe no one in this town is truly innocent. Myself included now."

"This is a game where your hands must get dirty if you wish to win," Elizabeth said, her spiritual form wavering as she floated in front of me. Her voice was as far away as ever, yet I could hear it clearly. "Perhaps it is immoral, but much of life is. My death was nothing but immoral, was it not?"

"I suppose so," I muttered, keeping my gaze steadily trained on the ground as I started to walk away from the Putnam's house. I wanted to stay alive. I knew that. Whether I was willing to risk any more lives was not as certain.

"At the end of the day, you will be the one waking up tomorrow with a clean name. The entire village will trust you for warning the Putnams."

But what if Sarah did accuse me on her deathbed, tainting my name and dooming me to an inevitable, bloody fate?

────༺༻────

Word Count: 14,623/20,000

A random bolded word in a chapter indicates where I've passed a milestone!

QOTC: What do you think of Anne's plan? Do you think it was justified? Do you think Thomas will take her seriously?

────༺༻────