TWENTY EIGHT

Caitlin and Caleb stood in Boston Common, at the top of a small hill, looking out, surveying the park. He held a map of the Freedom Trail which he’d just bought in a store, and he ran his finger along it again and again. Caitlin stood beside him, holding out both halves of the ancient scroll.

“Read it again,” he said.

Caitlin squinted to make out the words. She read:

The Four Horsemen travel a trail to freedom.

They leave common ground,

Enter a ring of blood,

Meet at the house,

And find the ones they loved

Beside the fourth tip of the cross.

“A trail to freedom,” Caleb repeated aloud, concentrating. “It must be a reference to the freedom trail. It would make perfect sense. Its right in the middle, right between Salem and Martha’s Vineyard. We’re in the center.

“And the ‘common ground’ reference…that must be Boston Common, where we are right now. It would also make sense. In the 1600s, where we’re standing, they hung the witches. It is a very important spot, especially for