He gropes the rock with his left hand while holding the lighter close to the surface. She sidles up to him and squints. “There,” he says, running the light over the markings. Carved deeply into the stone are a dozen individual runes. Lines, circles, and geometric patterns, similar to the mural. Similar, but different.
“What do they mean?” she asks him.
“Apparently it’s black magic,” he says. “The witches did it when they were held here.”
“But weren’t all the women innocent?” she says. “Like, witches weren’t actually real . . .”
“I’m only going by what the stories say,” he says. “Look. Up there.”
He stretches up high and illuminates the ceiling. Four digits. “1662.”
She gasps. “Is that the year these were made?”
“Apparently. They say there’s other graffiti farther on in, names and so on. But I think we’ve come far enough.” He turns to head back toward the entrance.
“Wait,” she says, wrapping her arms around him, pulling him to her for a long, ravenous kiss. As if he is hers and hers alone, forever and ever.
LUNA, 2021
I
She slides the key back across the front desk and holds Clover’s hand firmly as she heads toward the street.
“Where are we going?” Clover asks.
Luna shushes Clover and keeps her gaze firmly ahead. A man appears in the corner of her eye, a name tag on his shirt indicating that he works at the hotel. She doesn’t stop. They have to head to the car. It’s too dangerous to stay here.
“But I’m starving,” Clover whines once they’re in the car. “Why was there glass in my pie?”
“We’ll find a fast-food place,” Luna says, turning the key in the ignition. In the rearview mirror, rain has transformed the windows into surrealist portraits of the streets. But she can make out a figure getting into a car, the lights flicking on as she pulls out.
“I thought you were taking me to see Mummy,” Clover wails in the back seat behind her. She grows more fractious with each second, kicking Luna’s seat with each word.
Luna tries to keep the car behind her in sight as she pulls out of the car park. She can see the headlights in her rearview mirror moving behind them. She heads quickly onto the coast road, pressing her foot against the accelerator.
The roads shine with rain, the windscreen affording only a staccato glimpse of road before a fresh deluge obscures her vision. Luna’s heart is racing. The road is empty, save her car and the one behind, the two headlights uncomfortably close. She presses a hand against her stomach. She should have called the police when she found the glass, she thinks. Driving was a bad idea. The person behind them seems to be following her.
The only option is to drive faster. Her heart beating in her throat, she accelerates to sixty, eighty miles an hour, desperate to throw off the car behind.
“You’re going too fast!” Clover yells. Luna grips the steering wheel and concentrates on the road ahead. There are small turns ahead, she thinks. A sharp turn might be the only way to lose him.
Clover is screaming in the back seat. At the side of the road ahead, Luna spies the glint of a metal gate leading to a field. A small opening, just big enough for her little car. But the glare of another set of headlights appears on the crest of the hill; she’ll have to pull in front of the other car if she’s to make it. She counts in her head, jerking the car left at the last second. There’s a terrifying moment when the car on the other side of the road is too close, within meters of them, and a horn blares loudly. With a bang, she brings the car to a stop against the grass verge.
There is a horrible stillness from the seat behind her.