Page 58 of Heal Me

“I thought you wanted to wing it?” he says, shifting to his angelic form.

Chapter 25

Charlotte

“‘Tour a witch history museum.’ Vivian highly recommends one with a dungeon reenactment in the event anyone is interested in a little bondage play later,” Gabe announces.

“Of course she does.” I smile, shaking my head. But now that I know the story behind Gabe’s “tattoo,” I would never play around with a flogger. Sorry Julia.

Following Vivian’s recommendation, we start with the museum tour. I worry I’m going to be triggered when we walk down the stairs into the dungeon replica, but I do okay. “You want to leave?” Gabe whispers in my ear, squeezing my hand.

“I’m fine,” I whisper back.

Our guide describes the horrendous treatment the prisoners experienced, and it’s my turn to give Gabe’s hand a squeeze when our guide talks about public whippings. “You want to leave?” it’s my turn to ask him.

“I’m fine,” he parrots back, kissing the top of my head.

We finish the tour and make our way out through the gift shop. “What did you think of the tour?” I ask him.

“That the human ‘justice system’ was and still to this day is an oxymoron. What did you think of the tour?” he counters.

“Terrifying to know its real-life history. But I liked Sara Good’s spunk, all the way to the end.”

“Do you think she cursed the good Reverend?” Gabe asks. At the execution, the Reverend Nicholas Noyes tried to coax Sara to confess, to which she responded, If you take away my life, God will give you blood to drink. Twenty-five years pass and the Reverend dies of a brain hemorrhage—choking on his own blood, or so the story goes.

“Maybe it was a curse, or maybe it’s just his karma. Either way, it’s hard to feel much sympathy for him.” We stroll hand in hand down the brick-lined street. “I’m sorry, but wasn’t this supposed to be a romantic itinerary? That tour was pretty morbid.”

Gabe pulls the list from his back pocket and a pen appears in his hand. “Feedback for Vivian.” He makes a notation, and I smile at his persnicketiness.

We stop at a gift shop and he buys me a pointy black witch hat and a tiny witch hat headband for Doogie. Our next break from the itinerary is a stop at the fish market. We return to the house and I make us broiled lobster tails with rice pilaf. We eat a delicious dinner—seriously, it doesn’t get much better than fresh lobster tails—and then we take a walk on the beach and catch the dazzling sunset.

Returning to the house, Gabe and I snuggle under a blanket by the roaring firepit and enjoy a glass of wine. And then we make love outside underneath the stars.

Gabe carries me inside and the itinerary appears. “Don’t you dare write any of that down,” I tell him.

He marks an X across the entire piece of paper and writes Winged it.

* * *

The next morning, we make our way to the marina, as the plan is to take the ferry to Boston. Stepping on the dock, Gabe stops short. “What?” I ask, following his gaze.

“That’s my boat,” he grits through his teeth.

“This is your love boat captain speaking. Climb aboard, sit back, and enjoy the guided tour. We’ll be in Boston in approximately one hour. Mimosas will be served shortly. Gratuity is not necessary, but greatly appreciated,” a tall man in his late twenties calls. He’s around Gabe’s height, with a fit build and light-brown hair shaved in a fauxhawk. He’s wearing a white captain’s uniform with dark sunglasses, with a captain’s hat held in his hands. I spot a tattoo on his forearm of a snake swallowing an eyeball, similar to Sam’s.

“The hell you’re the captain of my boat,” Gabe spits as he climbs aboard, giving me a hand. “Charlotte, this is Turek.”

“Charlotte, what terrible pickup line did Gabe use on you the first time you met?” He removes his sunglasses and his light-green eyes do a similar thing that Gabe’s do when he’s using his mind-bending power.

“Excuse me?” I say, crossing my arms.

“A challenge. I love a challenge.” He speaks in a language I don’t understand, and even though I don’t want to, I blurt out, “Gabe tried to grab my hand and asked for my name.”

“Ah, Mister Sophisticated. And did that work?”

Willing my mouth not to open, it’s like it has a mind of its own. “No, I blew him off,” I say in a rush. Giving my head a little shake, I envision a brick wall around my mind. Not getting in there a third time.

“Enough,” Gabe says with glowing eyes of his own.

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