thunk<\/em>, reassuring herself that it was just coincidence. She wandered outside, glancing warily at passersby as she walked through town on her way to her grandniece\u2019s home. The cool of early morning had given way to sun-warmed day. Shops were open for business as farmers inspected equipment for sale and men in waistcoats and bright-buckled shoes displayed their wares.<\/p>\nOnce again, Mary noticed a strange tension amongst the townspeople. Tempers flared over imagined insults. People almost came to blows at the slightest provocation. The town was a-simmer.<\/p>\n
Mary passed a church, hearing raised voices inside. She had shunned the Church most of her adult life, having seen first-hand the terrible acts it could countenance in God\u2019s name. Nevertheless, driven by a feeling that perhaps she might learn the nature of what now afflicted the town, Mary eased the door open and slipped inside.<\/p>\n
She raised her fan as she entered the back of the congregation, swirling the hot, thick air inside the long, high-ceilinged structure. Even with her spectacles, she couldn\u2019t make out the figure at the other end, shouting from the pulpit. Mary moved against a side wall and edged her way forward, listening.<\/p>\n
\u201c\u2026\u2018Tis a perilous time we live in, good people, as we are beset on all sides by the agents of darkness,\u201d boomed the orator in deep, sonorous tones. Despite the stifling air, an icy chill prickled up Mary\u2019s spine. This voice was familiar too, though its owner\u2019s identity eluded her. She moved closer, attempting to see.<\/p>\n
\u201cJust a fortnight ago in Chester County, a homestead of God-fearin\u2019 Christians all under one roof slept sound in their beds, when a tribe of godless red savages swooped down in the black of night. The men folk were slaughtered where they lay, and the women and children were taken, no doubt to sate the savages\u2019 evil appetites.\u201d<\/p>\n
Many of the congregants shouted and yelled in anger. Mary could see the minister\u2019s form now: his black robe, a mane of silvery hair. She moved closer.<\/p>\n
\u201cHear me, my friends. Though we lay rightful claim to this bountiful land, the low heathens mean to drive us out. And they will not stop at mere violence. Do not doubt that the Indians will call up their allies from the spirit world and send them among us, turning us against one another to aid their evil designs.\u201d<\/p>\n
The minister had them whipped into a frenzy. The congregation cursed the tribes and prayed to the Lord for protection. Mary could almost make out his face, but in her heart she knew who it was, though it defied logic.<\/p>\n
\u201cSurely we must defend ourselves against these agents of the Devil,\u201d he continued. \u201cLook you into the hearts of your fellow man, your neighbors, your friends.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mary was now close enough to see the hard features, the intense eyes. A cold dread gripped her.<\/p>\n
\u201cThink on any strange, bewildering behavior. Perhaps they have sent out their spirit upon you and done you ill. If they are truly your friends, they will be grateful to stand before the Church and renounce the Devil so they may return to the Light of Heaven.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mary stared, not quite believing. It was Henry Danforth, the high magistrate who had presided over the court in Salem over forty years ago, whose signature was on the death warrant of every man and woman who had hanged. He had been in his sixties back then and he looked exactly the same now. In a flash, Mary relived her most painful memory. She saw herself standing before Mr. Danforth in the Salem court, trying at last to do right and recant her testimony, only to falter and collapse, too weak to withstand his relentless questioning and Abby\u2019s merciless cruelty.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd if they will not confess and turn away from the heathen spirits that have given them their dark powers,\u201d he continued, his voice shaking the very rafters, \u201cthen they shall be revealed in their wickedness. And they who do not repent shall pay for their crimes against the Almighty and His children. And to that, good people, I say a most fervent amen.\u201d<\/p>\n
The congregants exploded in response, shouting \u201camen\u201d over and over with a wild, vengeful look in their eyes. Mary felt ill, like she was about to vomit, but she wanted to know one thing. She reached out a trembling hand to touch the arm of a woman who looked as if she were tallying up all those who might have wronged her at some time. It was a look shared by many in the room.<\/p>\n
The woman turned. Mary asked, \u201cExcuse me, what is the name of that minister?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy, that\u2019s Pastor Ezekiel MacInnis,\u201d the woman replied.<\/p>\n
\u201cThank you, dear.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mary staggered away, bursting out of the door into the cooler air. She was shaking, and the tightness had returned, constricting her chest like a vice. Mary gasped for air, breathing deep until the blood in her veins slowed from a wild thunderhead to its more regular, methodical pulse. She straightened her back and began walking toward her grandniece\u2019s home again. This was no coincidence. Abigail Williams and Henry Danforth, the two most powerful forces behind the Salem witch trials, were here in present-day Doylestown, Pennsylvania. And from the looks of things, this town was headed down the same, dark path.<\/p>\n
![\"\"](\"https:\/\/somethingwicked.co.za\/magazine\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/05\/divider.jpg\" "\\"divider\\"")
<\/p>\n
That evening, Mary dined with her grandniece\u2019s family. Elizabeth was a charming, though impressionable girl who had married a tinsmith, Patrick, who as far as Mary was concerned was a pompous fool. His finest settings adorned the table, and after prayers were said, they all set to eating a delicious repast of turkey with chestnut pudding that Mary had helped Elizabeth prepare. Young Thomas sat with them, next to his older sister Isabelle.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know,\u201d Mary said during the meal. \u201cI happened to hear your Father MacInnis this morning. He seems a most excitable sort.\u201d<\/p>\n
Patrick looked affronted. \u201cHe is a most revered messenger of the Lord,\u201d he said. \u201cAnd he gives good reason for the many strange happenings in recent days.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mary ignored his reaction, cocking her head to the side. \u201cStrange happenings? Pray tell, what has occurred?\u201d<\/p>\n
Elizabeth leaned forward. \u201cThey say that Owen Barton has put a curse on his neighbor\u2019s farm so that every calf that is born should wither and die, which has occurred to the last three in a row.\u201d Elizabeth\u2019s voice lowered to a whisper. \u201cAnd that Rebecca Pendergast laid her hand on the Leighton\u2019s youngest girl, and she has been ill ever since.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mary kept her face impassive, watching Isabelle out of the corner of her eye. \u201cAnd these events are ascribed to what cause?\u201d Mary asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt is said that they have trafficked with the heathen spirits,\u201d Elizabeth said.<\/p>\n
\u201cIndeed?\u201d Mary noticed Isabelle fidgeting in her seat, as if uncomfortable. She was a few years younger than Abby, just as Mary had been at one time.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey have not been named outright.\u201d Patrick\u2019s voice was somber. \u201cBut there is talk of setting up a proper court here in Doylestown.\u201d Mary did not miss the calculating gleam in Patrick\u2019s eye. She did not doubt he would be among the first to cast suspicion on a neighbor.<\/p>\n
Mary noticed Isabelle becoming even more restless. \u201cThese are grave times, then,\u201d Mary said. \u201cNo doubt your Father MacInnis is rightfully concerned.\u201d<\/p>\n
She changed the subject, turning to young Thomas. \u201cAnd how were your lessons today, dear?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, very good, Aunt Mary,\u201d the youngster replied. \u201cWe\u2019ve been practicing our numbers and our figuring.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mary smiled, commenting to Elizabeth and Patrick, \u201cThe schoolteacher, Miss Jamison, seems a most pleasant sort.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, yes, the children all adore her,\u201d Elizabeth said, smiling. \u201cIsabelle and her friends have been most helpful, too, what with her being new to the town. They\u2019ve become thick as thieves.\u201d She turned to her daughter. \u201cIsn\u2019t that so, Isabelle?\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabelle nodded, her eyes downcast. \u201cYes, Mother.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd where does she hail from?\u201d Mary asked her.<\/p>\n
Isabelle gave a small frown. \u201cI can\u2019t think of it now,\u201d she said. \u201cI\u2019m sure she must have told me. I just can\u2019t remember, I\u2019m afraid.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s alright, Isabelle. I\u2019m sure there are more interesting things for young girls to talk about,\u201d Mary said with a wink.<\/p>\n
Mary ceased her questions. There would be a full moon tonight, and if she was right, there would be more to confirm her suspicions. She let the conversation wander to more innocent subjects for the rest of the evening, cheerfully helping Elizabeth with the dishes afterward. But inside, she seethed.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
That night, Mary lay in her bed, bitter tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Memories and emotions she had worked for years to bury scrabbled to the surface –<\/p>\n
shame and humiliation for the part she had played, rage at the townsfolk who had turned all too easily against her. Finally, above all, regret, not only for what she had done, but in a sliver of her heart that could not be denied, for what she had lost after that brief, crazed time when her slightest word meant life or death. She shuddered. Though she cursed those memories, nothing was ever again as bright as those days had been.<\/p>\n
Mary sobbed. For now it seemed the only real witches had been Abby and Mr. Danforth. They were the ones who had orchestrated everything, just as they were doing here. Mary ground her teeth. She had always wondered at how the particular madness that had ruled her and the other girls seemed to have vanished after Abby left. Surely she was a sorceress who cast her spell over the innocent, using them, using her<\/em>, for her own dark purposes. The betrayal stung. She and the others had practically worshipped Abby, had wanted to be her.<\/p>\nThe hellspawn must pay, for what she and Danforth had done to Salem, for what they would do to Doylestown, for what they had done to her.<\/p>\n
Amidst the background tapestry of natural creaks and whispers in the house, a discordant note sounded. Someone stirred.<\/p>\n
Mary quietly rose, already dressed in her darkest clothes. She eased open the door to her room and waited until she heard faint footsteps make their way through the kitchen and out the back door. Mary floated down the steps, careful to make no noise. She passed through the kitchen, pausing only to slide open a drawer and remove the wide carving knife Patrick had used earlier to prepare the turkey. Then she eased out the back door into the night.<\/p>\n
The full moon hung like a great pearl in the dark sky, casting cool light over the sleeping town. Only not all were asleep. Mary stayed hidden in the shadows, watching Isabelle\u2019s form move off down a dirt path, away from the center of town. Isabelle paused, and Mary saw several others join her. They bent close together and Mary heard their nervous titterings carried on the breeze.<\/p>\n
Mary followed, keeping them just in sight, crouching low whenever they paused to look back. Soon they entered patches of tall grass and copses of birch and elm, enabling Mary to move more easily from shadow to shadow. Then they were in the forest proper, thick with trees and brush. Mary\u2019s solitary life had bred a certain toughness in her. With muscles hardened through countless repetitions of her own household chores from dawn to dusk, she kept pace without difficulty amongst the dense foliage.<\/p>\n
Nevertheless, she was unused to traveling in the dark, and as the trees started to thin, she tripped and fell, crashing to the ground. The carving knife fell from her hand and there was a great commotion of leaves and fallen branches. Mary kept perfectly still where she lay, gritting her teeth against the pain as she prayed that the girls hadn\u2019t noticed the noise. After several moments, during which she heard nothing save the rapid thrum of her own heartbeat, Mary rose and took a few more careful steps, peering from behind a tree down a gentle slope into a clearing.<\/p>\n
She saw them, Isabelle and several other girls, dancing around a fire, their clothing discarded upon the ground. Abigail, or Emily as she was called now, led them, her movements graceful and erotic, almost feline. Mary stared, hypnotized. She had almost forgotten what it was like to be in that dance: the freedom, the intoxicating thrill. Mary\u2019s breath came heavy as she felt drawn toward it, compelled. The naked silhouettes framed by flickering tongues of fire beckoned to her. At last, Mary bit her lip so hard the sharp pain broke the spell. She shook herself loose from the mesmerizing scene.<\/p>\n
The dance stopped, and Abby, her body perfect and supple despite the years Mary knew she possessed, stretched forth her arm. From the other side of the fire a short, squat form appeared. She was dressed in servants\u2019 clothes and from the color of her skin, Mary knew she was Indian. Probably a maid or washer woman, much the same as the black woman Abby had used for this very purpose back in Salem. From the sullen look she cast toward Abby, the Indian woman did not wish to be here. Abby had no doubt promised to tell all sorts of lies about her if she failed to perform her assigned task, same as forty years ago.<\/p>\n
The Indian woman raised her arms. In one hand she held a rabbit, limp and lifeless. In the other she held a knife. In one swift motion the woman slit the rabbit\u2019s throat, held it high and caught the dripping blood in her open mouth. Then she extended the dead animal out to the girls, her eyes challenging them. Abby, of course, was the first to accept. She knelt demurely, closing her eyes and feigning fear as the blood ran down her throat. The other girls all followed her example.<\/p>\n
Once finished, the woman threw the carcass into the fire and began chanting words Mary did not understand, swaying back and forth as she invoked the spirit world. The girls all stared, transfixed, just as Mary remembered staring herself once before. But this time she watched Abby, who was muttering rapidly and peering into the fire. And when the flames suddenly roared and surged upward like a living thing, Abby was the only one who did not jump back, startled and afraid. Even the Indian woman showed fear.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt was her, always her,\u201d Mary muttered to herself.<\/p>\n
Once the flames receded a bit, Abby pointed to one of the girls. A plump, nervous girl stepped forward. She looked into the fire, screwing up her courage.<\/p>\n
\u201cI call upon the spirit of Philip Bergen,\u201d she said, her voice quavering.<\/p>\n
The girls all looked into the fire, the Indian woman, too. Mary watched as Abby muttered some more and made subtle hand gestures. A darkness formed inside the fire, coalescing into the rough shape of a child.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho summons me?\u201d the high, spectral voice issued from the shadow.<\/p>\n
\u201cI do,\u201d the girl replied. \u201cHaley Marcus.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy have you called me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI wish to know how you died.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cA sickness, a wasting disease,\u201d the shade replied. \u201cThis you know, Haley Marcus.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut you were healthy, the doctor could find no cause for your ailment,\u201d Haley protested. \u201cWhere did the sickness come from?\u201d<\/p>\n
There was a pause as everyone in the circle held their breath. Mary watched Abby, her hands carefully shielded from the other girls, maintain control over the shadow.<\/p>\n
The eerie voice rang out, its anger filling the clearing. \u201cIt was Beth Anne Parson. She put a curse upon my soul.\u201d<\/p>\n
Several of the girls gasped, others muttered to each other. Haley pressed on.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut how could she do such a thing?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe has powers given to her by the heathen spirits,\u201d the shade replied. \u201cShe does their bidding now. I have answered your questions. Now I return to my rest.\u201d<\/p>\n
The shadow faded, leaving only the rustling fire.<\/p>\n
The girls were exclaiming to each other in a rising chorus. Mary heard phrases that echoed in her mind from years past: words of accusation, condemnation. This was the turning point, she knew; once the girls banded together, bewitched by Abby\u2019s sorcery and guile, their allegations would be given weight. And in a town with a foundation of suspicion and fear already laid by Henry Danforth, or Father MacInnis, it wouldn\u2019t be long before the hangings started.<\/p>\n
Mary\u2019s mouth pressed in a grim line. She would not let these poor girls fall prey to that she-devil, to have their lives destroyed by shame and guilt. Mary remembered she had dropped the carving knife when she fell. She turned to look for it, but instead saw a great shadow looming over her. She felt a moment of panic before her head exploded in pain. And then there was only darkness.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
For a long time Mary floated in a foggy haze. But the pounding ache in her head forced her awake at last. Bleary-eyed, she saw the smoldering fire, much smaller than before. She tried to sit up but found her hands bound behind her. Her feet were tied as well, forcing her to remain on her side.<\/p>\n
She could tell she lay within the clearing, and as her eyes adjusted, she saw it was empty save for two figures. One was Abigail, clothed now, and the other was Danforth. Despite the warmth of the fire, their smiles chilled her.<\/p>\n
Abigail broke the silence. \u201cI thought we might have company tonight, so I asked the good pastor to see to any guests who might stop by.\u201d Her eyes shone with dark merriment. \u201cBut where are my manners?\u201d She stepped forward and grasped Mary\u2019s shoulders, sitting her up with her back against a tree stump. As she did, she leaned close to Mary\u2019s ear, her whispered words taunting. \u201cAfter all, it is a rare and special occasion when we get to see old friends, isn\u2019t it, Mary<\/em> my dear?\u201d<\/p>\nMary stiffened on hearing her name, shocked at having her suspicions confirmed.<\/p>\n
\u201cAbigail, so it is<\/em> you,\u201d she said, each word a harsh accusation.<\/p>\n\u201cIndeed, but please don\u2019t forget my dear colleague.\u201d She turned her head. \u201cWhat were you called back then? The names all seem to run together.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDanforth,\u201d he said, amused. \u201cHenry Danforth.\u201d He turned to Mary, his tone light and mocking. \u201cAnd who could forget you, Mary Warren? You were such a contrite little girl, a shame you had to be dissuaded for the greater good.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mary\u2019s face twisted. \u201cGreater good? \u2018Twas not the greater good of Salem you two worked for.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI suppose it depends on one\u2019s point of view,\u201d Abigail said. \u201cBut we had our roles to play, and our Master so dislikes being disappointed.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mary\u2019s wits began to return to her. She felt gravel and stones on the ground behind her, the rough bark of the tree stump against her hands. She started rubbing her bonds against it, back and forth, saw-like.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd your Master would be Lucifer himself, then?\u201d<\/p>\n
Danforth chuckled. \u201cHe goes by many names, some more familiar than others.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mary kept rubbing.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd is this the work you do for the Devil?\u201d Mary spat the words out. \u201cDestroying the lives of good people? Accusing honest folk of witchcraft?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt is true that discord and acrimony are as sustenance to our Master, but he prizes something even more.\u201d Abigail crouched down to Mary\u2019s eye level. \u201cDear Mary, we collect souls for our Master.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mary\u2019s breath stuck in her throat, her eyes widening in horror. \u201cYou mean \u2026 those who hang\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
Abigail\u2019s trilling laughter drowned out any words that would have followed. \u201cNo, silly. The souls of those who hang are not our Master\u2019s concern, they do not fall under his dominion.\u201d<\/p>\n
Danforth spoke. \u201cIt is the souls of the accusers who are condemned to fill our Master\u2019s halls. The myriad hypocrites who denounce their neighbors out of spite, out of avarice over some past quarrel, coveting their land or wealth. We merely provide the forge within which their true natures are put to the test. If they falter, their souls are forever marked. But the choice is always theirs.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mary swallowed. She couldn\u2019t deny his words. She had seen it in Salem; too many people eager to step forward and make the wildest accusations against other townsfolk, often out of greed or anger. She thought immediately of Patrick.<\/p>\n
Mary realized she had stopped rubbing her bonds. She continued as she spoke again. \u201cYes, I suppose Salem should thank you for your kind service.\u201d<\/p>\n
Abigail shook her head. \u201cOh, Mary. You are so utterly na\u00efve. Do you think Salem some heavenly paradise that we corrupted? The places we visit are already ripe on the vine.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJust how many places have you visited?\u201d Mary struggled to keep her breathing regular as she worked at her bonds, the effort soaking her garments with sweat. A few strands frayed and snapped, but she resisted the urge to hurry, keeping her movements slow and even, concealing what she did.<\/p>\n
Danforth answered her. \u201cOh, many, many. Wurzburg, North Berwick, towns you have never heard of, that ceased to exist before you were born.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat type of demons are you that you can live so long?\u201d Mary asked.<\/p>\n
Abigail rose. \u201cWe are quite human, I assure you,\u201d she said. \u201cThough we are long-lived by your standards, and we have been taught some skills by our Master that are beyond your understanding.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou describe the very definition of a witch,\u201d Mary said, her voice full of scorn.<\/p>\n
Abigail shrugged. \u201cIf that word best matches your perception, then I am in no position to say otherwise. All I will say is that my colleague and I made a choice a long time ago, and we have lived according to that choice ever since.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mary blew out a deep breath, exasperated at the rationales of the two conjurers. They behaved like no witches she had ever heard of. Her wrists were chafed raw as she felt another strand give way.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd what will you do now?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n
Danforth spoke. \u201cThat remains to be seen. Obviously, we cannot allow you to interfere with our plans. But your disappearance at this delicate time may swing the balance either way in Doylestown. So we must consult with our Master.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mary nodded, her words tinged with bitterness. \u201cSo you will kill me. I suppose it is only fitting. I should have died of shame after Salem. Since then my life has been little more than a great emptiness. It must be fate that I meet my end at your hands, the ones who caused my ruination from the very beginning.\u201d<\/p>\n
Abigail wore an amused expression. She came closer, kneeling down and bringing her face inches away from Mary\u2019s. \u201cSuch self pity does not become you, my dear.\u201d Abigail licked her lips, her words silken murmurings. \u201cWhen you watched us dancing before, did you feel empty then?\u201d Mary focused all her concentration on grinding her bonds against the bark, refusing to answer, unable to look away. \u201cTell me, after you realized I had left Salem, what was the very first thing you felt? Was it the shame that you claim ruined your life? Or was it something else?\u201d Abigail\u2019s voice dropped to the lightest, lilting whisper. \u201cWas it sorrow? Sorrow that the rapturous power I gave you had suddenly vanished? Is that the emptiness you have felt all these years?\u201d<\/p>\n
At that moment, the last strand snapped. Mary grabbed a hand-sized rock from behind her, giving a howl of rage and pain as she swung it, clubbing Abigail on the side of the head. Abby toppled over with a cry. Danforth hurried toward her and Mary threw the rock, hitting him squarely in the knee. He yelped and stumbled.<\/p>\n
Mary knew she had only seconds. She didn\u2019t even pause to untie her feet, instead lurching on hands and knees across the few feet of open space into the trees. Her one hope was finding the carving knife. She prayed that Danforth had not already recovered it.<\/p>\n
Her breath rasped and she felt lightheaded as she thrashed about among the underbrush. Behind her in the clearing, she heard Abigail speak in a strange, guttural accent. \u201cMarcus, I\u2019m fine, go get the stupid girl.\u201d<\/p>\n
Footsteps were approaching. Mary cast about desperately. A short distance away, a stray beam of moonlight glinted a cool spark on the dark forest floor. Mary propelled herself toward it, reaching beneath the leaves to grasp the familiar wooden handle of the knife. As she did so, a hand grabbed her by the collar and hauled her up, half strangling her.<\/p>\n
\u201cMary, you\u2019re only delaying the inevi\u2026\u201d Danforth was interrupted as Mary swung an elbow behind her, landing a blow into his stomach. He doubled over for a moment as Mary tried to turn around to face him, but her bound feet caused her to falter. She found herself falling back, and reached out with her free hand to grab hold of something, anything. She caught Danforth\u2019s shirt in her gnarled fingers. Still wheezing to catch his breath, Danforth fell too, right on top of Mary and the knife she held between them.<\/p>\n
Mary hit the ground an instant before Danforth fell on top of her. The knife made a sickening tearing sound as it sliced into him below the chest. Warmth gushed all over Mary\u2019s front. Only a brief, gurgling breath escaped Danforth\u2019s lips before his body went limp. Mary lay there a few seconds, panting beneath the dead weight on top of her. Then she struggled and wriggled out from under the body. She fought to still her trembling hands and carefully cut the rope around her ankles, casting it aside before scurrying over to crouch in the deep shadows of a tree. She could still see the body.<\/p>\n
Stillness reigned as Mary clutched the knife in her white-knuckled hands. Her old body was battered and bruised and she still felt dizzy. There was a small tightness in her chest that she ignored as she concentrated on remaining utterly quiet while she willed her body to stop shaking.<\/p>\n
Finally, she heard Abigail\u2019s voice. \u201cMarcus?\u201d she said in that strange accent. \u201cAre you there?\u201d Then, in the voice she recognized, \u201cMary? I do hope you\u2019re alright, dear.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her voice was moving now, coming closer. \u201cYou know, of all the girls in Salem, you were my favorite.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mary remained alert, her back against the tree, knife ready.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe others were merely followers, sheep eager to be led.\u201d Now the voice receded, seeming farther away. \u201cBut not you, Mary. It took real strength to defy me and seek to confess. That showed courage. It took both me and my colleague to stop you\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
Mary let out a long breath. Abigail\u2019s voice continued to fade. Perhaps she could slip away, unnoticed. Then she practically jumped out of her skin in fright when Abby\u2019s voice sounded right next to her.<\/p>\n
\u201c\u2026Just as you will be stopped now.\u201d<\/p>\n
There she was, beautiful despite the blood that coated her hair where the rock had struck her. Mary hesitated for a split second, then she swung the knife. Abby intercepted her arm with ease, grabbing her wrist and punching her full in the face with her other fist. Mary sagged as the knife dropped. Abby looked around for a moment, noticing Danforth\u2019s body. She pursed her lips.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow unfortunate, now my Master will have to supply another colleague,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
She grabbed Mary by the hair and forced her back toward the clearing. Dazed, Mary offered no resistance as she was dragged. Her hand ran across something rough on the ground. Out of some reflexive instinct, she grabbed the tree root and jerked herself back. Abby\u2019s hand came free, along with some of Mary\u2019s hair.<\/p>\n
Abby turned, still mocking. \u201cMary, such spirit. If only you had shown as much in Salem,\u201d she said. \u201cCome along now, we mustn\u2019t keep my Master waiting.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mary was on her hands and knees, barely conscious. She knew she had not long to live. On the ground, she noticed a length of rope, the bonds that had once secured her wrists. Mary took them in her hands as Abby came near. She remained still, allowing Abby to reach down and grasp her by the hair again. Mary took the rope and wound it once around Abby\u2019s ankles. Then she drew it tight and lurched forward, driving into Abby\u2019s body while she pulled on the rope. Abby fell backward as her legs went out from under her. There was a horrible cracking sound as Abby hit the ground. She did not move again.<\/p>\n
Mary looked up. Abby had fallen on the tree stump where Mary had previously been held captive. Her neck had caught the edge, snapping instantly. Abby\u2019s head lolled at an unnatural angle, her face blank.<\/p>\n
Mary leaned over her, her body trembling with exhaustion and relief. Somehow, through the wildest luck, she was still alive. She looked down at Abby, beautiful even in death. Mary touched her porcelain cheek, her emotions a confused jumble.<\/p>\n
She wearily rose to her feet. Every inch of her body felt battered. She took a deep breath and was about to turn away when she clutched her chest in sudden agony. Jagged pain shot down her arm as she dropped to her knees, unable to breathe. Her chest felt like it was being crushed, and she fell on her side, gasping for air. In her last few moments of life, Mary\u2019s vision constricted down a long tunnel to the low-burning fire in the middle of the clearing. Thick black smoke began to pour out of it, and a pair of chilling, red eyes peered out at her.<\/p>\n
The eyes were dead, utterly devoid of emotion or feeling. But they stared at her, into her, sifting through every single atom of her being. And they gave her a choice. Mary thought about her long life, about the people of Salem, and Doylestown, and everywhere else. She thought about Abby, whom she had loved and then hated, and her words, and the scalding truth she couldn\u2019t deny in a small part of herself. As blackness enveloped her, she chose.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
On a hot summer morning in Richmond, Virginia, Melissa Jennings took her ease in the town saloon. The young beauty was the new nurse and assistant to the town\u2019s physician. She drank lemonade as she studied her flawless reflection in a mirror behind the bar. A young man approached her.<\/p>\n
\u201cExcuse me, Miss Jennings?\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019m sorry to bother you. My name\u2019s Franklin Harden.\u201d<\/p>\n
She turned to him. \u201cNot at all, Mr. Harden. How do you do?\u201d<\/p>\n
He frowned. \u201cMy little girl has herself a nasty cough,\u201d he said. \u201cDoc Jacobson saw her a few days ago, before you arrived, says it\u2019s nothing to worry about. But she\u2019s still sick and my wife and I are more than a bit concerned. If it wouldn\u2019t be too much trouble, would you take a look at her? We\u2019d be much obliged.\u201d<\/p>\n
Melissa took Mr. Harden\u2019s hand. \u201cOf course I will. No bother at all. Only, do not be alarmed if your child\u2019s malady is not of a physical nature.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mr. Harden looked confused. \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n
Melissa leaned forward, motioning him to come close. \u201cThose who traffic with the spirit world may cause such ailments,\u201d she whispered.<\/p>\n
Mr. Harden\u2019s eyes widened. \u201cHere in Richmond? I cannot believe it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Melissa nodded knowingly. \u201cIt has been known to happen.\u201d Then she gave a dazzling smile. \u201cBut I\u2019m sure this is not the case with your little one. Go see to her now, and I will be along presently.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mr. Harden clutched her hand tightly before letting go. \u201cThank you, most kindly.\u201d He hurried off, gratitude and concern in his eyes.<\/p>\n
Melissa watched him go before returning to her reflection in the mirror. She still could scarcely believe it, but her new Master had been true to his word. And though the price had given her pause, she knew that ultimately, those who chose the path of evil would go to their just reward. The rest was unimportant.<\/p>\n
She eschewed the drink in front of her for something stronger, ordering a shot of whiskey.<\/p>\n
The bartender gave her a dubious look, not sure what to make of a young lady drinking so early in the morning. Melissa fixed him with a stern gaze that belied her apparent youth and placed a few coins on the bar. \u201cMake it a double.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Copyright \u00a9 2011 by Jason Kahn
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