Salem's Fury (Vengeance Trilogy Book 2) by Aaron Galvin Page A

company on the warpath.”
    Anger swarms within me at Sarah’s answer. My jaw works wordlessly as unpleasant thoughts seethe in my mind. “How…how could he…why would you—”
    “Must you ask? Truly?” Sarah says, tears welling in her eyes. “I love you, sister. With all my heart.”
    I fall to my knees. “Then why would you do this? You know better than any what such a decision means to me. He honored me in front of our people by granting permission.”
    “They are not my people, Rebecca.” Sarah scoots toward me, taking hold of my hands. “ You are, sweet sister. Shadows that you both may be in this home, you and my husband are all I have left in this cruel world. I could not bear to lose you both.”
    I pull my hands back from hers. “You speak untruths, Sarah. You have George also—”
    “No,” she says. “Our brother has not come here in many a year now. Not since his own children died from the pox.”
    I sneer at her words. “Or perhaps he comes no more since you told him our family is cursed. That its dark magic fell even upon on his children.”
    “We are cursed, Rebecca.” Sarah insists. “Outcast. How can it be you and George will not see? God forces us to wander in the wilderness for our sins.”
    “I do not wander,” I say. “Father taught me all the secrets of the forest. Showed me the goodly spirits that reside in all things. He would show you also, but you will not see them. You would rather cower in a hut.”
    Sarah looks away from me. “My legs—”
    “Fear cripples you.” I spit. “Nothing more. Creek Jumper could heal your legs if only you believed.”
    “I know not what to believe anymore, sister.” Sarah closes her Bible. “Do you think I do not feel the anger in your heart? I do. It lives in mine also.”
    “Do not speak of my anger,” I say. “What could you know of it?”
    “You think my soul does not rage, Rebecca? You cry I withhold that which you desire more than anything. You, who know better than most what I have lost? Family…a husband’s love…the simple joy of running through the woods.”
    My sister flings her Bible across the hut, startling me.
    “Everything I hold dear turns to dust!” she shrieks.
    I know not what to say as Sarah looks on me with a wildness I have never before seen in her. She cups her face with her hands, shaking and sobbing.
    “F-forgive me, sister,” Sarah says. “I fear our mother passed on her madness to me. But all that I did, all that I do…it is to keep you safe with me.”
    I do little to hide the disdain in my face as she looks on me.
    “I do not question your love for me, Sarah, or that you would know I am safe from harm,” I say. “But you did not do all for that alone.”
    “What do you say?”
    “You would keep me here to wallow with you,” I say. “Speaking endlessly of curses and witchery, but you can yet live, Sarah.”
    “You mock me.” Sarah snorts.
    I kneel next to her, and take her hands again in mine.
    “No!”
    She shrinks, clutching her head as if she berates herself in ways I cannot know or hear. She looks upon me, wiping tears from her eyes.
    “It is too late for me, sister,” Sarah says, touching my cheek.
    I draw away. “It is not for me. Let me go and find Priest. You swayed him from his decision already. Let you convince him now. Ask that I may go—”
    Sarah shakes her head. “I have seen enough death to last me all the rest of my days. Our mother and father killed, and my dearest friends also. So many years ago, and still their faces haunt my dreams each night.” She takes my hand in hers and kisses the backs of them. “Do not begrudge my desire to keep you safe.”
    I turn stony as my sister wipes her tears away. I leave her side and gather my things—bow and arrows, my winter robes, and a bag of corn for the journey.
    “I know you are angry with me.” Sarah’s words halt me ere I leave. “And I will wear that proudly, knowing it keeps you well. I ask you grant me one