Marked のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 61 - チャプター 70

“It’s funny you should ask,” Sam said, “because I actually have been trying. I’ve always wanted to know. But I never found anything. Until last week.”Her eyes opened wide in surprise. Sam was surprised by how excited she looked. He couldn’t really understand it. Why would she care?“Really?” she asked. “Where is he?”“Well, I don’t know exactly, but we’ve been talking on Facebook. He says he wants to see me.”“So? Why don’t you see him?”“I want to. It just has all gone down so fast. I guess I just need to make a plan.”“What are you waiting for?” she asked, smiling.Sam thought. She was right. What was he waiting for?“Why don’t you write him back? Make a plan to see him? You know, if you don’t set a plan, things never happen. If it were me, I’d message him right now,” she said.Sam looked into her eyes, and as he did, he felt his thoughts shifting. Everything she said made so much sense. It was weird: he almost felt like every time she said something, the thought became his

I was taken aback as we walked in the small graveyard, my mind still reeling. I had never been in a place this old before. When we had entered, a large sign had read “The Burying Point, 1637.” I marveled at the fact that people had been coming here for almost 400 years.More than that, I marveled that there were a few tourists wandering the cemetery right now. I had assumed we would have been the only ones here. But after all, this was Salem. And this cemetery was an attraction. People seemed to come here and treat it as a museum. In fact, I noticed that there was an actual museum adjacent to the burial plots. It didn’t feel right to me. I felt that this place should have been more sacred.The cemetery was small and intimate, the size of someone’s backyard. A cobblestone path twisted and turned its way throughout the place, and as I strolled, I marveled at how old the tombstones were, at their strange fonts, worn away with age. It was English, but it was so old, and so quaint, it alm

I held Caleb’s hand.We had the museum to ourselves as we walked down its narrow, dimly-lit hallways. Pictures, plaques, and paraphernalia lined the walls, all of witches, judges, and hangings. It was a solemn place.As we continued, we came to a large display. I began to read, and was so taken by it, I decided to read it aloud to Caleb.“Listen to this,” I said. “‘In Salem, in 1692, a large group of teenage girls suddenly fell ill. Most of them lapsed into a fit of hysteria, and screamed out that they had been attacked by witches. Many of these girls went so far as to name the witches who were afflicting them.“Because their illnesses were so mysterious, and because many of these girls died suddenly and there was no other explanation for it, the townspeople fell into a frenzy. They hunted down the people accused of witchcraft.“It is worth noting that, to this day, no one has ever been able to determine the nature of the illness that struck these girls, or why they were all struc

We continued through the house, examining various objects, searching for something, anything. But as we finished searching the first floor, we came up empty.We both stopped before a narrow, wooden staircase. It was blocked by a velvet rope, on which hung a sign: “Private: upstairs for staff only.”Caleb gave me a look.“We’ve come this far,” he said.He reached over and unclasped the rope.Excited, I went first, my footsteps echoing on the hard, wooden staircase. The house creaked and groaned as we went, as if protesting its new visitors.The second floor of the house had even lower ceilings, barely high enough for Caleb to stand in. It was now almost dark, and there was just enough light to see by. We stood in a beautiful and cozy room, with wide plank wooden floorboards, six over six windowpanes, and tastefully decorated with period furniture. At its center was a brick fireplace with black stain around its edges, clearly worn from years of use.Greeting them at the top of the

{KYLE’S POV}The clock struck midnight as Kyle descended down the marble staircase, flanked by two dozen of his minions.It had been a long night, and it had done gone far better than he had ever dreamed. Still, he dreaded greeting his master, Rexius, their coven leader. They had been together for thousands of years, and he knew that Rexius was not a man who suffered fools lightly. He had zero tolerance for mistakes, and Kyle had felt nervous ever since he’d let that girl, Caitlin, escape his grasp. Rexius always punished even the smallest transgression, and Kyle had been bracing himself, wondering when his punishment would come. He knew that Rexius was just biding his time, that he would never forget.Still, Kyle’s work had gone so spectacularly tonight, in every corner of the city, that Kyle couldn’t imagine how his master could remain upset with him. It should more than make up for such a small mistake. After all, they were in the midst of a historic moment in time, and Kyle wa