The Silver Rose: A Novel by Susan Carroll

Author:Susan Carroll [Carroll, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, Genre Fiction, United States, Contemporary Fiction, Historical Fiction, Historical Romance, Fiction, General, Historical, Romance, Suspense, Thrillers
ISBN: 0345482514
Amazon: B000GCFBM4
Publisher: Ballantine Books
Published: 2006-03-07T06:00:00+00:00

SIMON STUMBLED through the village, the lanes empty and silent, rakes and plows abandoned in the fields, cottage doors boarded over.

“Maman? Papa? Lorene?” he called frantically. But there was no answer, only the eerie moan of the wind, the thunder of his heart. It was as though he was the only one left alive in the entire world.

Except for the old woman on the village green, her straggly gray hair blowing in the wind as she tossed something down the well, muttering curses.

“You there! Stop!” Simon shouted. “What are you doing?”

The hag straightened from bending over the well and grinned, revealing the blackened stumps of her teeth. As Simon darted forward to seize her, the witch rose into the air with a cackling laugh.

He ducked down as she flew at him, her nails extended like claws. But as she swooped past him, he was horrified to realize he was not her target. She flew toward a child picking daisies in the meadow. Her dark head bent earnestly over her task, she did not see the hag bearing down upon her.

“Lorene!” Simon screamed his little sister’s name but his voice was torn away by the wind. He started to run, legs pumping, but he knew he’d never get there in time. Lorene looked up at last, screamed in terror as the witch descended.

“Lorene!” Simon came awake gasping, sitting bolt upright. He squinted against the bright flood of sunlight, his mind still fogged from his dream. He felt disoriented, unable to place where he was until he became aware that a woman hovered over him, her face set beneath a silken blond crown of braids, her eyes gentle with concern.

“Simon, are—are you all right?” Miri asked.

He blew out a gusty breath, and dragged his hand down his face, trying to clear off the last vestiges of sleep. “Yes. It was only—only—”

“A bad dream,” she filled in. She paused, then asked softly. “Who is Lorene?”

Simon grimaced, mortified to realize he must have been muttering in the throes of his sleep, whimpering like some frightened child.

“No one,” he started to snap, but for once the denial stuck in his throat. He stared down at his hands dangling between his knees. “She is . . . she was my sister.”

Miri reached out, took hold of one of his hands, the gesture soft and encouraging. Her eyes were full of questions, but she didn’t press him, just waited. But Simon felt he had already taken enough painful journeys into his past for one day. Lord! He hadn’t had that particular nightmare for years. That’s what came of letting himself remember.

“Look. I’m fine. It was nothing but a stupid dream.” He carried her hand brusquely to his lips, then released it. “I am sorry if I alarmed you. Damned embarrassing way for a man to behave.”

“No, don’t be embarrassed. Everyone has bad dreams.” Her lashes swept down as she confessed, “I—I sometimes do myself.”

“Yes, my dear, but I am a witch-hunter. I am supposed to be the stuff of nightmares, not cringe from them myself.

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