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.Everyone looked to him.Val dipped a piece of bread in his eggyolk and took a bite. We did a favor for that guy, whoever heis, then he banished us from our home.At least that s what wethink happened.We recognized him. Hmm, said Ingrid. What did he look like? He s tall, big guy, good-looking, said Kelda.These were vague descriptions, not helpful at all. Can you These were vague descriptions, not helpful at all. Can youplease be more specific? What color was his hair? How tall?How big? Like, hefty? Or just overweight? What was hewearing? They all began shouting at once, and all of them haddifferent opinions.Some argued the man had blond hair, whileothers said it was brown.It was dark outside, they all agreed,but they had definitely recognized him as a person they used toknow.But now they couldn t remember at what exact Dumpsterthey had spotted him, which didn t help Ingrid at all.Ingrid sighed, but at least she was getting a little closer tosolving this enigma, however frustratingly piecemeal and slow theinformation came together.She needed to find out who exactlythis man was, find out exactly what he d done to the pixies tomake them forget, and maybe she could finally send them backhome. chapter thirty-sevenBlasphemous RumorsAfter that one unseasonable sunny day, the temperatureplummeted, and a morning mist now rose from the ground in thewoods.Joanna had dressed warmly in rubber boots with thicksocks, a wool hat, and a scarf.She stood at the foot of the burialmound and looked up into the sprawling oak.Was this the verysame tree where her witch had hanged before being snippeddown to plummet into her grave? Sometimes several witcheswere hanged from one tree at once, dangling from the boughs fordays as putrefaction set in setting an example for those whomight think to consort with the devil.Hanging was less violent than burning, but neither could becalled humane, and now the memories of Salem and her owngirls hangings returned, as much as she tried to push them away:the townspeople jeering and celebrating, couples kissing andgroping as the hangman fit the nooses around each of their groping as the hangman fit the nooses around each of theirnecks.Some in the crowd were raising their fists, while otherscried out in ecstasy or with smiles on their faces as thecondemned swung off the platform.This was a part of humanitythat Joanna would rather not have witnessed.It was the wrongway around; those with blackened hearts were in the crowd, noton the gallows.She wiped away a tear, remembering Freya sdefiant stare and Ingrid s broken sobs.Joanna loosened the redscarf at her neck because she suddenly felt as if she were beingchoked herself.There were several ways to die from a hanging.The neckcould snap, but this didn t necessarily mean death cameinstantaneously.If the drop wasn t high enough and the spinalcord was not fully severed, the hanged could remain in the air,kicking and fully conscious for several minutes while asphyxiationtook place.If death wasn t caused by the neck bones breaking, or justplain decapitation if the body was catapulted with enough force,it was the occlusion of the carotid arteries and jugular veins thatdid it, causing edema followed by cerebral ischemia, or the heartslowing down enough to cause cardiac arrest.Some claimed that the hanged experienced sexualexcitement, but this was bunk, a myth, Joanna knew.There wasonly agony and suffering and humiliation.Men sometimesappeared to get erections, but that was only due to gravity, theblood surging to the torso and legs.It had nothing to do withpleasure and everything to do with pain.This hanging, if it had been done from this tree, given theshort drop, would not have been the quick kind but a slow one short drop, would not have been the quick kind but a slow oneto ensure maximum torture.Joanna had watched her daughtersfaces swell, turn purple and blue with cyanosis, blood marksspreading across their skin, their eyes, as the life was snuffedfrom them.Splotches of red crawled over their skin as veins andcapillaries burst.Freya s tongue had protruded from her lips, asif in a final act of defiance.Though it was cold, Joanna s forehead beaded with sweat.She wiped it off with the back of a hand, trying to erase thememories as well.She realized then why the witch s spirit hadgrabbed her by the throat.She had been showing Joanna what itfelt like when she d died.Joanna had come to the burial mound to seek a passageinto the timeline.She closed her eyes and chanted, reciting theincantation that enabled one to slip through the portal into thepassages.She had to be specific: she had to return to the righttime, at least a few days before the hanging.She waited for theportal to open, closing her eyes, but her feet remained rooted atthe base of the burial mound. chapter thirty-eightDance till You Can t Dance No MoreOn the Dragon, Freya gathered strands of hair from Killian scomb in the bathroom of the master stateroom.She had stoppedby the greenhouse earlier to gather the roots and cuttings ofherbs that Jean had told her she would need for her ritual.She dplaced them inside a punctured Ziploc, along with a live cicada,which resembled a gigantic fly with its huge eyes and veinedgossamer wings.Of course, the cicada had begun to sing, butthat was exactly what she needed: a male.Jean had beenadamant about that.The ritual would also require a drop of Killian s scent, thatdelectable, intoxicating one she knew so well, but she wasn tquite sure how to go about extracting it.She carried a small glassvial, like those used for perfume samples, for that end and hadplaced it on the sink. Be creative, Jean had told her. Isn t thatwhat magic is about? what magic is about? Freya? Killian asked, unexpectedly behind her. Did youhear that? She started, quickly turning toward him.Luckily, the cicadahad stopped humming. Hear what? she asked, feigninginnocence as she slipped a bottle of his cologne into her bag. I m looking for aspirin, she lied. A witch with a headache! He laughed. Now you rebeing secretive again, and we know that s no good. He pushedher hair out of her face and kissed her softly.Since they hadbeen waiting for the Valkyries to descend upon them, theycouldn t get enough of each other, treating each night as if it werethe last.But Freya had also been busy, trying to figure out a wayto stave them off. Hey, you. She smiled as their bodies pressed againsteach other in the cramped space. Hey, babe, he murmured, tugging her closer and cuppingher behind.She put her bag on the sink, her work forgotten for now
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