Page 109 of The Witch

Celia turns to look down at Mick. In the beam of the flashlight, I can’t tell if she’s angry or sad. Maybe it’s a little of both.

“Why did you do it?” she asks him in a strangely calm voice, even though he is no longer in any position to answer. “You were supposed to just play the woman crying and hoofbeats for the recorder. Why did you put the name Celia on there? And leaving those letters from Ethel for her to find?” Her voice breaks on her name. “Why did you betray me that way?”

Mick is shaking his head and trying to say something, but all that comes out of his mouth is a choked gurgling sound. That’s when I realize there’s blood dripping from his lips.

He’s dying.

I watch Celia for a moment, whose attention is taken by Mick. The gun is gripped in her right hand, and I wonder if I could get it away from her. This woman is at least eighty years old, although I’m not sure of her exact age anymore, and she could theoretically be up to a decade younger than that. Still, I’m a lot younger than she is, which makes me think I’m nimbler and a lot stronger.

Then again, I don’t want to underestimate her. Celia is tough, and guns are a great equalizer. All she has to do is pull the trigger, and that will be the end of me.

“We have to bury him.” She waves the gun in the direction of the hole I was digging. “Make it bigger.”

I finally find my voice. “Celia, we can’t⁠—”

“I said dig.”

You don’t say no to a woman holding a gun, so I put my flashlight back down on the ground and start digging into the earth once more. Mick isn’t a big guy, but the hole will need to be a lot bigger to fit him.

And then what? Celia can’t possibly expect me to keep her secret. She’s got leverage over Letty, and Mick was in love with her, but she has nothing on me. She has no way to ensure the second she doesn’t have a gun trained on me that I won’t go straight to the police and tell them everything.

And that scares me.

Celia keeps the gun aimed at my head as I dig into the soggy dirt, my mind whirring. She watches me, not getting too close, but shining her flashlight into the depth of the hole, which is getting disturbingly deep. Deep enough that I have to climb inside to keep digging, a fact that unsettles me.

“Julia.”

The sound of my name on Celia’s lips makes me shudder. I throw a clump of dirt over my shoulder and say nothing.

“Who did you tell about this, Julia?”

I pause to wipe sweat off my forehead. “What?”

“Did you tell that boy from the museum? I bet the two of you talk a lot.”

My stomach churns. Why is she asking me who knows about this? I can only think of one reason, and it’s not a good one.

“Henry knows everything,” I say. It’s not entirely a lie. “I told him everything I know.”

Celia is quiet for a moment, considering this. “How could you have told him everything if you only just found out?”

“I figured out more than you think.”

I dig into the earth again, wishing I picked the larger shovel. Or a smaller shovel, given what I’m scared might happen to me after the hole is completed.

“All right,” she says, “I can handle Henry Ziegler if I must.”

I’m not sure what that means, but it doesn’t sound good. I wonder what Henry would think if I disappeared after tonight. He would worry, especially after what he just found out from the DNA test. But I already told him I was leaving town, so it’s not like he’ll be searching for me. It may not even register with him that I have disappeared, unless he hears about it on the news.

And if he did start digging, what would Celia do to him?

Celia shines the light inside the hole again. She tilts her head to the side, then she nods. “Okay, that’s deep enough, I think.”

“Great.”

I start to climb out of the hole, but Celia clears her throat. “Not so fast, Julia.”

I turn around, a feeling of sick dread washing over me. Celia is holding the gun in front of her, pointed straight at my chest.