Suffer a Witch (21 page)

“This way, if anyone asks, you can honestly tell them who you are and what you’re doing,” Em smiled.

The witches gave her doubtful scowls.

“We can head out there and find him,” George said. “We have to get George Jacobs and Rebecca anyway. After we find Proctor, we’ll head to Rebecca’s old place. When we have George Jacobs and Rebecca, we can return to get Proctor when it’s dark.”

“That’s a much better plan,” Margaret said. She stood up to leave.

“Really, Em,” Susannah said with a shake of her head as she walked by.

Em scowled. Sarah Wildes pointed at Em at the same time Alice mouthed, “Your plan?” Em nodded. Sarah and Alice grinned.

“You’re brilliant, George,” Mary Ayer said.

Sarah, Alice, and Em laughed.

“What?” Mary Ayer said.

Mary Ayer took George’s arm, and they left the apartment. Alice and Sarah chortled their way to the Suburban. To spite George, Em got in the passenger seat in Sam’s work pickup after putting all her tools in the bed. George followed Sam out of Boston toward modern-day Danvers.

“I hate coming here,” Sam said as he took the ramp to MA-128.

Em turned to look at him.

“I know it’s childish,” Sam said. “I should be over it. I’m just. . . not.”

He glanced at Em, and she smiled.

“Are you?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” Em nodded her head and then shook her head. “No.”

Sam nodded in agreement.

“I’m over the whole thing,” Em said. “And I’m still so hurt and confused by it.”

“How did this happen to
me
?” Sam asked.

“Exactly,” Em said. “I was married, a member of the church. . .”

“Safe,” Sam said.

“I was safe,” Em said. “Sometimes I wake up at night and wonder why they hated me so much. What did I ever do to them?”

“Was Mary Eastey as saint-like as they say?” Sam asked.

“She was beautiful,” Em said. “She gave this little speech and blessed everyone. She asked them to stop this evil business because it was bad for them. She was wonderful, saintly. Of course,
I
wanted to burn down the town.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “I guess Giles got around to it eventually.”

“More than two hundred years later,” Em smiled.

“Good thing he stopped drinking,” Sam said.

“‘Good’ is an understatement,” Em said.

Watching the road, they fell silent. Their tension rose with each passing mile.

“Do you think we’ll get over it?” Sam asked. “Forgive?”

“The Gospel of Mary says. . .”

“Mary Magdalene’s gospel?” Sam asked with a raised eyebrow. “Be thee not a Puritan?”

“Very funny,” Em said.

Sam laughed.

“The Gospel of Mary says that Mary Magdalene was betrayed by Peter,” Em said. She raised an eyebrow, and Sam nodded in agreement. “Peter was her friend and someone she thought of as a brother. Yet, she was forced to leave her home with her children to escape his wrath.”

Sam nodded.

“We were betrayed by people we’ve long outlived,” Em said. “They believed that
we
were the evil and
they
were benevolent.”

“Like Mary Magdalene’s betrayal,” Sam said. “To Peter, the ‘rock’ from which the church was founded, she was just a whore who seduced his savior. To the good people of Danvers, we were witches —
we
rotten to the core — even though
they
were the ones who accused and hanged innocent people for their property and power.”

“Exactly,” Em said.

“It’s more than a little ironic that we are actually witches now.” Sam pulled into the Walgreen’s parking lot. “What did you do to Ann Putnam, Senior?”

“Who?” Em scowled.

“Her husband?” Sam asked.

“I’m not sure who you mean,” Em said.

“Fine,” Sam said as he parked in the far back of the pharmacy parking lot. “What did you do to Tituba?”

“I paid off her jail fees,” Em said. “My husband, Isaac, bought her from that loathsome Parrish.”

“And then what?” Sam asked.

“Then nothing,” Em said. “We thought she’d go back to her husband, Indian John, but she didn’t want to have anything to do with him.”

“Why?” Sam asked.

“She was disgusted at the way he lied,” Em said. “He was in cahoots with the evil men who hurt her. Indian John testified against almost everyone, including her. He didn’t help her get out. She felt betrayed by him.”

“The word of the day is ‘betrayal,’” Sam said.

Em nodded.

“Where did she go?” Sam asked.

“We put her on a boat back to Barbados,” Em said. “We gave her what money we could spare. John Willard saw her when he was a pirate. By then, she’d lived a full, happy life. She had married again and was a grandmother. After everything that had happened, she deserved it.”

Sam nodded.

“Feel any better?” Em asked.

“I’m glad I’m not alone in my. . . pain,” Sam said.

“You’re definitely not alone,” Em said. “In our own ways, we each feel the pain of betrayal. I don’t think any of us has really gotten over it.”

“Bridget?” Sam asked with a smile.

“Bridget?” Em asked. “Not a chance. You should have seen her on her hanging day. She was so sure that those ‘poor girls’ were tortured by something real.”

“Better to believe that than feel the full force of being betrayed,” Sam said.

“Exactly,” Em nodded.

“What do you think it will be like for Rebecca, George Jacobs, and John Proctor?” Sam asked.

“No idea,” Em said. “I’m hoping we’ll be able to put John to rest. There’s a record that his family took his remains and reburied them. But you remember his family.”

Sam nodded.

“His wife, Elizabeth, was convicted, like Proctor was,” Em said. “She was pregnant, so they didn’t hang her with us. While she was still in jail, Proctor’s children from his other wives grabbed everything he owned — land, house, even the bed they slept in — with that forged will. They fought tooth and nail over the estate for years. I can’t imagine that they would have had the time or inclination to move John’s remains. If Elizabeth was out, maybe she would have rallied her family to help. But, given the chaotic state his family was in when he was hanged, I don’t believe they retrieved and reburied him.”

“You think they just
said
that they reburied him,” Sam said.

“When they heard about Rebecca and George. Sure.” Em nodded. “You remember what John’s older children were like.”

“Bitter that the new wife got the goods,” Sam nodded.

“I think John’s been there the whole time,” Em said. Her face filled with sorrow.

“Why didn’t he come back when we did?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know.” Em shook her head. “I fear that he did, and he’s stuck there, or. . .”

She shook her head.

“It’s not your fault, Em,” Sam said.

She gave him an unconvinced nod. George drove up in the Suburban and parked next to Sam. She turned her head to look at him, and he rolled his eyes. He gestured to the back. Weni was sitting right behind him. Em grinned.

“We have help,” Em said.

Sam leaned over to look up.

“Who
is
that guy?” Sam asked. “I had a long talk with him about what it meant to be a man. Incredible conversation. He had insights dating all the way back to the early Egyptians.”

“He’s the elders’ librarian,” Em said.

“I thought you couldn’t be in the same time as any other elder,” Sam said. “How can he be here and you be here?”

“I don’t know,” Em said. “Let’s ask him.”

She grinned at Sam, and they got out of his truck.

“This area,” George said, “right here, used to be a part of Gallows Hill.”

George gestured to the small road he was standing on. Dressed in their Puritan finery, the witches gathered around him. Weni walked over to stand next to Em.

“According to the old maps, we were buried near this location,” George said.

“It is kind of you to let him share your discoveries and your plan,” Weni said in a low voice.

“He’s better at this,” Em smiled.

When she was in the elders’ library, she had reviewed every map ever created for this small spot on the planet. Her father thought she’d lost her mind. He thought she should be researching the edges of human knowledge, not where she had been buried. She’d just smiled and continued her research. She hoped it would pay off here at Gallows Hill. Glancing around, she saw that they were drawing curious eyes. She whispered a spell so that if anyone outside their group heard them talk, it would sound like a language they almost understood, but they would have no idea what it meant.

“You remember what it looked like,” George said.

“It was a hill,” Margaret said as she walked around George. “There was water and giant oak trees.”

“Exactly,” George said.

“It wasn’t over there?” Martha Carrier asked as she pointed to the spot they’d used to mark the hanging anniversaries.

“Close,” Sam said. “It was always close but not exact.”

“The closest we could come,” Em said.

“That’s exactly right,” George said. “But in order to find Proctor, we must be exact.”

“You know, I haven’t been here in. . .” Susannah started.

“Three hundred and twenty-two years?” Em asked.

Susannah blushed and nodded. Alice put her arm around Susannah’s waist.

“I’m sure you’re wondering what happened,” George said. “The railroad built a line right where I stand. Like they do, they blew a path through Gallows Hill.”

“I was on that crew,” Sam said.

“I was with you,” George said. “I never even noticed. Em, with the help of Weni, found a railroad map that shows the destruction of Gallows Hill. And I can tell you: If there were human remains here. . .?”

George shrugged.

“We would have built right over them,” Sam said.

“The US railways are a graveyard of the men and women who worked the railroad,” George said.

“You’re saying that John was blown up?” Bridget asked.

Surprised to hear her voice, they turned in the direction of her voice.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Bridget said.

“How did you get here?” Em asked.

“I parked at the houses and walked in.” Bridget gestured to the hiking boots on her feet. These were the same hiking boots Em had given her at Gungywamp. Mary Ayer hugged Bridget to welcome her. “I wanted to see the whole area. And I’d say that George is right. This is the outer edge of where we were buried.”

Bridget smiled and nodded.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Bridget asked. “Should I. . .”

Em used her left hand to point under her right armpit. There was a small, but growing, crowd of people standing close enough to see what was happening but far enough away not to get hurt if they were crazy.

“I brought yours,” Em said with a “do it now” raise of her eyebrows. “It’s in Sam’s truck.”

Sam held up the keys. Bridget took the keys and went to change behind the darkened windows of his vehicle.

“Where was I?” George asked.

“The railroad,” Margaret said.

“As I said, the railroad blasted through here to create a line,” George said. “This road was built over the rail line. In fact, it’s highly likely that the rail is still here.”

“And John?” Elizabeth asked. Her voice was laced with horror.

“The railroad piled everything over there,” George pointed to the hill behind him.

“Oh, I get it,” Alice said. “That hill wasn’t here.”

“They moved it to put the rail line here,” George said as he gestured to the road. “That means that John must be there.”

Em felt a shiver run down her back. She turned to see Bridget get out of Sam’s truck in a drab Puritan dress with her characteristic red bodice. She grinned when she showed Em her boots under the dress. Em smiled at Bridget. Feeling a draw, she looked past Bridget. The man claiming to be John Parker, and the demon who lived inside him, was standing among the crowd. With her look, the transparent image of the demon’s face appeared over the young man’s face. Em shivered and turned back toward the hill. George was pairing up the witches to search for John’s remains on the hill behind them.

“Your look brings him out,” Weni said in a low voice. “He is called by you as you are called by him.”

“I didn’t call him here,” Em said.

“Then why are you wearing this costume?” Weni asked. Without turning around, he said, “The child of your line is with him.”

“Shonelle?” Em asked.

Em whipped around to see John Parker put his arm around Shonelle. The girl kissed his lips, and Em winced. Seeing Em, the young girl ran to her.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were dressing up?” Shonelle asked. She picked up a piece of Em’s skirt. “This is horrible.”

“Historically accurate,” Em said.

“What?” Shonelle asked.

Em whispered a spell so the girl could understand her.

“This is what the Puritans wore,” Em said.

“How awful for them,” Shonelle said. “Do you have an extra one for me?”

“Sure,” Em said. “Sam?”

Sam was standing with Margaret. They were getting instructions and a map from George. He looked up when she called.

“Shonelle wants to wear one of these horrible dresses,” Em said.

“Hey, Shonelle,” Sam said.

“What did he say?” Shonelle asked. “My ears must be full of wax today.”

“He just said ‘Hello,’” Em said.

Shonelle waved. Martha Carrier and Alice headed in the direction of the embankment where they usually commemorated the hanging.

“There’s an extra dress in your truck,” Em said. “Shonelle can wear it. Do you mind?”

Sam threw the keys to Em. She gave them to Shonelle. After a look at their map, Susannah and Elizabeth started down the road, away from the Walgreen’s parking lot.

“We’re just about to head out,” Em said. “You’ll have to hurry if you want to go with us.”

Shonelle jogged toward Sam’s truck.

“We’ll wait for you,” Bridget said to Shonelle.

Shonelle turned to look at her. She shook her head that she didn’t understand what Bridget had said.

“Hurry!” Em said again. Shonelle waved at Em’s order.

“You made the dress. . .” Mary Ayer started.

“It’s too big,” Em said with a smile. “Funny how that happens.”

Mary Ayer smiled. George called Mary Ayer and Bridget over to him. Dressed in her drab Puritan finery, Shonelle brought Em Sam’s keys. She twirled around to show the shirt while Em and Weni applauded. Sarah Wildes glanced at Em, who nodded in agreement and freed Sarah Wildes’ words, before asking Shonelle if she’d like to join her in the quest. Shonelle looked relieved that she was with someone she could understand. Shonelle glanced at John Parker, who waved her on. He smiled at Em and turned to go.

“What was that?” Em asked.

“The man has needs the devil cannot understand,” Weni said.

“And that means?” Em asked.

“He has to urinate,” Weni said.

Em smiled.

“You’re with me,” George said. “Is that okay?”

“Can we bring Weni?” Em asked.

“Of course,” George said. “We’re going straight up here. Is that too much?”

“Lead on, young Reverend!” Weni said.

They scrambled up the embankment. Em paid special attention to any tingle or sensation that might indicate John Proctor was buried nearby. She heard a whistle from just south of where they were. Using magic to hear, she and George cupped their ears.

“We’ve found a bit of the oak tree that hanged us,” Susannah said. “It looks like the original tree was burned, maybe by lightning strike. There are three or four trees that came off the stump maybe a hundred years ago. Each bears the distinctive stench of our hanging.”

“That’s very good,” Weni said.

“But nothing of John?” Em asked in a magic-enhanced normal voice. She cupped her ear again.

“Not a shred,” Susannah said.

“You remember the trees were a ways away from where they dumped us,” Elizabeth said.

“True,” Em said.

“We’ll mark it and keep looking,” Susannah said.

“Thanks,” Em said.

Em looked at her map for a moment. A dot appeared with the marking “hanging tree”. She showed the mark to George and Weni, who nodded. They continued hiking up the hill. Weni was light on his feet and soon took the lead. On more than one occasion, George turned to pull Em up behind him.

“Stupid dress,” Em muttered.

“You can always take it off,” George said with a wiggle of his eyebrows. She kissed him as she passed, and he patted her rear.

“Remind me again why we are doing this,” Weni said.

He turned in place to face Em and George.

“Why do we look for the remains of this John Proctor?” Weni asked. “You call him. . .?”

“Proctor,” George said. “He ran a popular pub. Everyone called him by his last name.”

Weni nodded and glanced at Em.

“Why do we. . .” Weni started to ask again.

“When we talked to the spirit of George Jacobs, he said the demon had awakened them from their slumber,” Em said. “He said that they can’t stop us if we all fight together.”

“They were awakened by the demon,” Weni nodded. “Why must they remain awake?”

“They’re unable to slumber,” Em said. She felt her frustration rise.

“You need this Proctor to help fight the demons?” Weni asked. “This is what this spirit said?”

Em nodded.

“You were there, Reverend?” Weni asked.

“I was,” George said.

“And you also knew this George Jacobs as well as this ‘Proctor’?” Weni asked.

“And Rebecca Nurse,” George said with a nod. “She came back with them.”

Weni gave a curious nod. A tree stump appeared next to him, and he sat down. He took out a long-stemmed churchwarden’s pipe made of rich cherry wood. With a wave of his hand and a puff of his cheeks, smoke began to rise from the pipe. The sweet, pungent pipe tobacco seemed to heighten Em’s senses and speed up her thinking.

“What if they won’t come back?” Weni asked.

“I don’t think that matters,” Em said.

“Of course, it matters,” Weni said. “It is the
only
thing that matters.”

“I just touched them before, and they came back,” Em said.

“But not against their will,” Weni said.

“No,” Em said. “Most of them didn’t want to be here. They’ve resented me ever since.”

“No!” Weni jumped to his feet. He waved the pipe in front of her face. “I am instructing you, Martha of Truth. You must hear this truth. These witches, your friends — they could not have come back unless every fiber of their being wanted to return.”

Em blinked. She glanced at George.

“That’s true for me,” George said. “I wanted to be with you with every fiber of my being.”

“You reached out to them with the power of love, which is the power of all life,” Weni said. “If they didn’t want love, if they didn’t want life, they would not have return. They made the choice to return. And so it was.”

“But. . .” Em started. Weni stopped her protest with a wave of his pipe.

“The only person who had no choice was you, Martha of Truth,” Weni said. “Only you were
required
to return, due to your blood lineage.”

Em shook her head as if she couldn’t believe it.

“You didn’t want to come back?” George asked.

“Uh . . .” Em said. She glanced at Weni, and he nodded to encourage her. “I was exhausted. I felt as if the core had been ripped out of me when you died. I had looked forward to a long sleep and a conversation with Jesus. I didn’t know you or any of them would come back, George.”

George gave her a soft smile.

“This is your father’s fault,” Weni shook his head. “In that way, it is my fault.”

He patted her hand.

“I apologize for my harsh words and attitude,” Weni said and sat back down on the stump. “I did not realize how much you do not know. Tell me again. This spirit stated that they had been awakened. He believed that, if you found the third, they would all come back — or you made that up.”

“How did you know?” Em asked.

Weni waved his pipe as if her question was irrelevant. He gave a deep, chest-rattling cough before he started puffing again.