A Fury wouldn’t just kill a guilty person. First, she’d warp his mind, so he no longer knew what was what.
A guard yanked her, shackled, toward the platform. She stared at him with her cavernous eyes, and his mouth went dry. A flicker of recognition burned in the back of his mind as he glimpsed her in human form, with wild clumps of hair instead of snakes. It was—Dorcas.
She’s here for her revenge. What would she do to him in his helpless state?
“Dorcas?” He called out.
The crowd murmured. Dorcas’s head whipped up, a movement more reptilian than human. She started to prowl toward him, but her chains prevented her.
The crowd’s attention was riveted on Jack, eyes wide in anticipation of a show.
Dorcas’s voice cut him open. “Tell everyone what you did.”
He couldn’t breathe. Why was she doing this? “We put your…” She was compelling him to confess, dragging the words from his throat. “We put your mother in prison in Salem. We called her a witch. She was with child. But no baby could survive in that rathole. And then the accursed girls went after you. And we made you confess your mother’s sins.”
A hollow feeling welled up in him, a void that could never be filled, and something trickled down his cheeks. He closed his eyes. She’s come for me, at last.
He opened his eyes again to see if Fiona had been watching his confession, but her eyes were on something else—they were on the knife that Mrs. Ranulf held in front of Tobias’s chest.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Fiona
Fiona tugged at the shackles above her head. They chafed at her wrists, but remained firmly rooted in the walls. In the center of the room, Mrs. Ranulf stood on the platform next to Tobias, her platinum wig and angel wings still in place. Tobias’s outfit had been cut away, only his black underwear remaining. He didn’t seem to notice. Despite his impending demise, he could barely keep his eyes open. The pendant around his neck seemed to sap his energy, his head lolling onto his shoulder.
Mrs. Ranulf held a knife in front of the scars on his chest, where the raised skin formed a triangle within a circle. A horrifying thought flashed through Fiona’s mind. She’s not going to cut it off him, is she?
She exhaled with relief when Mrs. Ranulf stepped from the platform. Facing the crowd, she raised her hands above her head, still gripping the knife. “My husband, in all his wisdom, is allowing me to perform the ritual this evening.” Her eyes shined when she looked at him standing in a nearby archway. “Tonight, we begin the Purgator Reawakening. The time to claim this country is now. If we purge ourselves of evil, Blodrial will grace us with his heavenly body.” Her wide-eyed grin was all fanatical fervor. “Our gentler methods were not enough to summon him. Blodrial requires total submission. With his guidance, the fires will cleanse this land of evil. In our court, we tried the witch Connor last night. As I passed the sentence, I could feel Blodrial’s divine approval caressing my skin.”
Fiona’s heart leapt into her throat. What did they do to Connor?
Fervid color rose in Mrs. Ranultf’s cheeks. “We’ve purged Boston of witches, but there are more armies coming. Judgment Day is upon us!” She pointed the knife at Tobias’s chest, her face growing angry. “And this boy planned to lead a horde of demons for the archdemon Emerazel.”
Of course. The Purgators never really know that they’re talking about. “There’s are no more armies!” Fiona screamed. “Tobias is no one’s leader. How many times throughout history have you thought Judgment Day was upon us?” Hysteria raised the pitch of her voice, and the crowd turned to stare at her, some tittering behind their hands. “How many times have you been wrong? No one is coming for you. There is no Judgment Day. There are just humans doing horrible things to each other.” Her tone changed, pleading now, and tears rolled down her cheeks. “There are no more armies. You don’t have to kill anyone. If the Harvesters are dead, then you’ve killed all the terrorists.”
Mr. Ranulf stepped forward, his weeping angel mask pushed to the top of his head. A sneer twisted his face. “If you don’t hold your tongue, I will cut it out.” He lifted his head, addressing the crowd in a booming voice. “If there is even a one-percent chance that witches and demons threaten Americans’ safety, we must act swiftly to protect our interests.”