Suffer a Witch (18 page)

“George Jacobs, John Proctor, and your sister would come to life,” George said.

Surprised, Mary Eastey’s head jerked up from her stew. She looked at George and then Elizabeth for confirmation. They agreed with a nod.

“Maybe we shouldn’t, then,” Mary Eastey said with a snort.

“What?” Sam asked.

“I’ve enjoyed more than three hundred years without her. . . uh. . . guidance.” Mary Eastey chuckled. “Can you imagine my sister trying to work out email or Skype?”

“It’s going to happen!” Alice said. Still stinging from Mary Eastey’s earlier dismissal, Alice’s voice was hard.

“I have no doubt,” Mary Eastey said with a nod and took a bite of stew. She nodded and made an “mmm” noise. When she’d swallowed, she said, “What’s the rush?”

Mary Eastey laughed. On edge and worried, the witches joined her laugh with relief. The witches moved to their resting spots, and Mary Eastey ate her stew. George went into the kitchen area for another beer. He was pouring his Guinness when he felt Mary Eastey watching him.

“Is there a place. . . um. . .” Mary Eastey paused for a moment to come up with the right words.

“A place?” George asked.

“An old place,” Mary Eastey said. “With burial chambers and stone circles and. . .”

“Isle of Man?” George asked.

“Orkney,” Sam said.

“I’m not going to Scotland,” George said in a scathing voice.

“Get a grip, George,” Susannah laughed. “It’s been more than three hundred years since the Scots betrayed a king you didn’t even like.”

George cleared his throat and looked down.

“You have to excuse him, Mary,” Sam said and jostled George’s shoulder. “It was one of George’s first wars. The resentment runs deep.”

The witches laughed, and George grinned. Mary Eastey stared at the ceiling for a moment before she nodded.

“I’m not talking about Scotland,” Mary Eastey said in a tone meant to get them back onto her question. “I mean, yes, there are sites on the Isle of Man and Orkney. I was with you when we went on the cruise to the ancient places of Britain. We went to the Isle of Man and those amazing ancient places in Ireland. Some of us even went to Scotland.”

Mary Eastey winked at George, and he scowled. She looked at the men.

“Human history is amazing,” Mary Eastey said. “But what I meant was is there someplace here, in the Americas?”

“There’s a bunch in Mexico,” John Willard said. “In the Amazon and Teotihuacan, near Mexico City. I keep asking you to visit with me.”

“Let’s go in January.” Mary Eastey gave John a soft, loving smile. He beamed. One of the reasons Mary Eastey was with the Amish was that she and John were on a break. It was clear to everyone that they were back on again. Mary Eastey turned back to George and said, “I mean, here — in New England. Some place old. Created before Christ.”

George shrugged and looked at Sam. He shook his head.

“There’s Gungywamp.” Bridget’s voice came from across the room.

“Bridget?” Mary Eastey asked. “You get over here and give me a proper hello!”

Bridget got up from the couch with a few thick blankets draped over her shoulders.

“Sorry, I’m freezing,” Bridget said. She hugged Mary Eastey.

“Same old Bridget,” Mary Eastey said with a smile. “How are you, dear?”

“Good,” Bridget said with an impatient nod. “You said you were looking for someplace old in New England, created before Christ, right?”

Mary Eastey gave Bridget an indulgent smile. Sam put his arm on Bridget’s shoulder.

“No, don’t do that,” Bridget said. “I know you think that I’m an idiot.”

“You just play that role to avoid responsibility,” George said.

“True,” Bridget pointed to George. “But I’m not fooling now. There’s a place called ‘Gungywamp’ in Connecticut. No one’s really sure who made it. They say it was made by Native Americans. My last husband thought it was made by aliens because there’s a chamber there that lines up with the stars on the equinoxes. A stone chamber, no less. We used to go there for the spring equinox — or we used to, before he died.”

“How old is it?” Mary Eastey asked.

“At least 2000 years before Christ,” Bridget smiled and nodded.

“Are there standing stones?” Mary Eastey asked.

“Not like Stonehenge,” Bridget said. “Or that ridiculous ‘American Stonehenge.’”

They shot hard looks in the direction of where Giles was lying.

“Hey, you agreed to it at the time,” Giles said.

They laughed.

“Gungywamp is amazing,” Bridget said. “Not so much that it has a bunch of stuff — I mean, any square foot on the Isle of Man has more of the same thing — but this is. . .”

“Here,” Mary Eastey said. “In the states.”

“Right,” Bridget said. “In the north area, there’s short standing stones, a bunch of cairns. . .”

“Is there a circle — no, two — concentric circles?” Mary Eastey asked.

“That’s Gungywamp,” Bridget nodded.

“We need to get there,” Mary Eastey said.

“Why?” George asked.

“Em will be there at first light,” Mary Eastey said.

“Our Em?” Bridget’s voice rose with delight.

“At this point,” Mary Eastey said.

“We’d better get going, then,” George said.

The witches launched into action, packing their belongings and getting ready for a road trip.

“Where’s Em?” Ann asked.

Everyone stopped moving and looked at her.

“Em’s body’s gone,” Ann said. “Who took it? Giles?”

“Why do you always suspect me?” Giles asked.

“Because you’re a moron,” Martha Carrier said.

“How dare you. . .?” Giles started.

“There’s no time for this!” George commanded.

“But Em’s body!” Ann said. “She needs. . .”

“Let’s hope it’s waiting for us at this ‘Gungywamp,’” George said.

“Shotgun!” Alice called as they filed out into Sam’s garage and into two perfectly reconditioned 1979 Chevy Suburbans.

“You’re sure about this?” Susannah asked Mary Eastey under her breath.

“As sure as I can be,” Mary Eastey said.

“Let’s just hope she’s there,” Susannah said.

Mary Eastey nodded and climbed into the back of the SUV John Willard was driving.

“Let’s just hope she’s there,” George mouthed and took the driver’s seat of the second SUV.

Her father looked around the cave for a moment before walking at a stiff pace toward what seemed to be a platform or a stage. They were in a wide, open area swept clear of debris by the ocean and the wind. The stone floor was scarred by long-forgotten fire pits. William walked so fast that Em had to jog to keep up.

“We used to meet here,” William said. “On the equinoxes and solstices, we’d be here, every one of us. There is something about this room, or maybe this place, which allowed us to be with each other in the same time and same place. We were a small community — only a few hundred — but when we got together . . .”

William gave her a salty grin.

“I’ve seen artists’ renditions of these kinds of things — the community waits for announcements from the elders.” William talked as fast as he walked. “They show a severe and anxious crowd. We never worried. The party started early in the morning and continued long after the council was over. I had my first drink of alcohol over there.”

He pointed to an area of the cave.

“My first woman over there.”

He pointed to another area.

“We were safe here and among each other,” he said. “My days here were some of the best days of my life.”

When they reached the wide platform, William pointed to the edge.

“I spent my twenties as a scribe for the elders,” he said. “I used to attend the meetings and take notes.”

“That’s why you know about the library,” Em said.

“Correct,” William said. “Most of our kind never got past this stage. I was not an elder, but I was entrusted with a. . .”

William reached under his shirt and pulled out a square brass medallion. Em remembered playing with the medallion when she was a child. She’d never asked him what it was or why he was wearing it. Her eyes held the question tonight.

“It’s a key, Em,” William said. “A key to the chambers here.”

He pointed to a short set of stairs up onto the platform. Standing on the stage, he looked out into the larger cave.

“The elders would meet for a day while we prepared meat and set up for the feast,” William said. “The crowd was festive, so the work was easy. After meeting, they would stand right here to tell us what they’d decided. It wasn’t like politics now, where people feel so hopeless and misrepresented. We believed that our elders knew what was best for us. And you know what? They took their responsibilities very seriously. There was no corruption. They voted their conscience and what they felt was best for us. Mostly, they were right. When they weren’t, they were quick to admit it and change direction.”

He gave Em a soft smile and turned to an ornate door. The rock door was covered with intricate, swirling designs that, if Em hadn’t known better, she would have thought were Celtic in origin. In the center, there was a complicated knot. William pulled the medallion from around his neck and held it to the knot.

“William of Truth,” he said.

He nudged Em. She looked at him, and he gestured for her to say her name.

“Em. . . uh. . . Martha of Truth,” she said.

The great door opened with a decisive crack. William pushed her back and stepped back himself. The door swung open.

“Ready?” her father asked again.

“I am,” Em said.

They stepped into the elders’ private sanctum.

The moment they stepped inside, the enormous stone door swung closed with a bang. Em spun in place just in time to hear the large bolt click closed.

“Don’t worry, Em,” her father said.

When she turned to look at him, he was noticeably younger. He looked like he was nineteen or twenty. She stepped back with surprise.

“You look about ten,” he said, after clearly reading her mind. “It’s this place. It shows our soul’s age, not our physical age. We are children compared to those who belonged here.”

Em gave him a quick uncertain nod and started looking around. They were standing in a small antechamber. The plush, silken fabrics and rich, handspun rugs made her feel like they had just missed someone. Yet this area had been abandoned for centuries.

“Have we moved in time?” Em asked.

“Possibly,” William said. “I never knew how these chambers worked. They always seemed magical.”

“I can see that,” Em said with a smile.

“Come on,” William said.

He gestured to the doorway covered in heavy drapes in front of them. He held the drapes aside and stepped through after her. The meeting chamber was carved out of pale granite. Twenty-three unadorned high-backed stone chairs had been carved into a circle with a large opening in the center. The stone was smooth from centuries of wear. Behind and above the chairs, there was a thin passageway. Em glanced at her father. He seemed lost in memory. She touched his sleeve, and he glanced at her.

“They used to sit here.” He gestured to the stone seats. “The seats look awful, but they are quite comfortable.”

“Magic?”

“Most certainly,” William said. “When an elder had something to say, they would stand in the center to speak. The others listened with rapt attention. No one dared interrupt. When they were discussing important issues, everyone took turns to speak. But more often, two or three people did most of the talking.”

Her father walked across the circle to a slightly larger chair.

“This is where Argos sat,” William said. “He was the eldest, the father of us all. He was incredibly kind and unfailingly fair. He was like a father to me. I adored him.”

William glanced at Em.

“Your mother was his granddaughter,” William said.

“Immortal?” Em couldn’t help but ask the question she knew the answer to.

“Sadly, no,” William said. “Her mother was a half-human, and her father was human. Another thing I didn’t know until she was dying.”

“Is that why you were able to have me?” Em asked.

“Maybe,” William said. “I think it was a gift from Argos. He was known as Argos the Kind.”

William’s face held the pinched look of love mixed with grief. Em put her hand on his back. He looked at her and smiled.

“I used to stand up there, behind Argos,” William said. “If you can imagine it, there were about a hundred of us. We stood behind them, ready to do their bidding. They only had to ask, and all of our talents were theirs for the taking. We were absolutely silent until called upon. It’s amazing to think of now, but there was no speaker system. Silence was required in order for these great leaders to hear each other.”

“Do you think you would have become an elder?” Em asked.

“Maybe,” William said. “I thought so at the time. We had lived this way for many thousands of years. I don’t think anyone imagined that it would ever end. After the last century and a half of so much change, it’s hard to believe anything ever endured like that.”

“I could see the world was changing,” Ellen the Watcher said. She appeared before a stone seat, which she sat down in. “I saw that our world was shifting. I just never imagined that we would be destroyed. I assumed we would linger here and there throughout the world and return here for the holidays.”

Em felt someone looking at her, and she turned to see Argos sitting in his stone seat. He was staring at Em so intensely that William stepped in front of her.

“Argos?” William asked.

“She is both savior and destroyer,” Argos said.

“She’s only a girl,” William said. “Not four hundred years yet.”

“She is more than that,” Argos said. “She is our future and our past.”

William turned to look at Em. She shrugged.

“What do you need, child?” Argos asked.

Em’s throat was instantly dry. She shot William a panicked look.

“She would like some assistance with her demon,” William said. “It has joined forces with mine and. . .”

“With all of ours,” Argos said. “You are dealing with an army.”

“But. . .” Em started. “Why?”

“Why?” Argos asked. “You are a truth teller. You know that things are what they are.”

“I guess I’m asking: ‘Why me?’” Em asked. “You are the eldest — or Ellen the Watcher or any of the esteemed people who have sat in these chairs. Why am I dealing with an army of our opposite?”

“You live at a time when the final battles of the ruling class are being held,” Argos said. “Will humankind come together, or will the ruling class be able to assert itself again? Humankind has been at this juncture over and over again. The ruling class has always won. But, in your time, there is a real chance for people to rule their own lives, without masters, and, after a time, peace will reign. This reality is but a breath away. The demons cannot allow that.

“So I ask again: What do you need, child?” Argos asked.

With his words, the rest of the seats filled in. William gasped in wonder. Em looked from one intelligent face to another.

“You have all of our wisdom at your disposal — for now and for the rest of this battle,” Argos said. “How can we assist you?”

“First, I would need to be able to contact you at will,” Em said. “I don’t know exactly what I’m up against, so I’ll need to be able to reach you.”

“Done,” Argos said. “You will only have to think my name, and a part of you will be standing right here. What else?”

“I need to learn about demons, and my demon in particular,” Em said. “My father says that his demon and my demon have combined forces. I need to learn about his demon as well.”

“I will grant you access to our library,” Argos said. “William, you know the way?”

“Yes, sir,” William said.

“Anything else, Martha of Truth?” Argos asked.

“I need to know how I can be the past and the future at the same time,” Em said.

“You stand at a crossroads,” said a woman who stood from her seat and walked toward Em.

“Miriam of Geography,” William said in her ear.

“The past stretches behind you,” she said. “The future is ahead. You are both past and future. You will bring about past and future.”

Em silently wished that George were there. He would make sense of this nonsense and even have questions to ask. As it was, she managed a weak smile.

“Do you want me to bring you back? Bring us back?” Em internally groaned at her simple and practical question. She was surrounded by the wisest of the wise, and all she could do was ask stupid questions.

“It will happen automatically when you defeat the demons,” an elderly, dark-skinned man said. “Benjamin the Warrior, Martha of Truth. And your question was not stupid. Practical, yes, but not stupid.”

The man made a slight bow and sat down.

“And you’re sure I’m going to defeat these demons?” Em asked.

“Why do you doubt?” William asked.

“Because
humans
tried me as a witch,” Em said. “It was humans who jailed me, beat me, raped me, and belittled me, and it was humans who hanged me. Humans — not demons.”

When she finished, the elders spoke in hushed tones to each other.

“How do I defeat the demons when human beings are more than willing to do their bidding?” Em asked.

“You
will
find a way,” Argos said.

“I’ll find a way,” Em said under her breath. She shrugged and raised an eyebrow to indicate that Argos’ statement wasn’t helpful.

“Do you have any other questions?” Argos asked.

“That’s all I can think of right now,” Em said. She bit her lip to keep from asking again how exactly she was going to beat the demons.

“Very well,” Argos said. “The library is yours. William?”

For a moment, William and Argos shared a look. William ended the look with a slight bow.

“This way,” William said.

He gestured to a door off the passageway above the stone seats. Em climbed the steep stone steps to the passageway. When she looked back, the stone chairs were empty again. The elders were gone. She felt a sudden chill and shivered.

“What happened?” William asked.

“I have this feeling of . . . foreboding, I guess,” Em said.

“You mean, you feel the loss of them,” William said. “As if they are truly gone forever.”

Em nodded.

“I feel it, too,” William said.

He held back the curtains, and Em walked through. She gasped. She was standing in a football-field-sized room. Books lined wall shelves from the floor to somewhere beyond her sight above. Feeling movement, she turned to look.

A small, thin man was standing next to her. His skin was brown and his hair deep black. His dress was something Em had seen in the Ancient Egypt exhibits at Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts. He held his hand out to her.

“Weni the Librarian,” he said in a reedy voice. He leaned close to look into her face. “I have waited many millennia for you.”

He gave a quick sniff, spun in place, and walked away. Em was so surprised that she could only watch him. He was ten feet away before he turned his head back to her.

“Come along, Em,” Weni said. “We have much to do, much to do! And your witches are waiting for you.”

“My witches?” Em asked.

“We will start here.” Weni gestured to a three-foot-high stack of books.

“But, how. . .?” Em started to ask, and Weni laughed.

“I like her, William,” Weni said. “But does she not know she is a witch?”

“How is being a witch. . .?” Em started.

Her father put his hand on the stack of books. Words flew out of the books and into his brain. He winked at her and lifted his hand. More than a little intimidated, Em took a small step toward the books. Weni whipped around her. On his route around her, his shoulder hit hers, and she flew to the books. Her father took her hand and placed it on the books.

“It’s controlled by your breath,” Weni said. “Breathe in!”

“Uh. . .” Em shook her head.

“
Now!
” Weni screamed.

Startled, Em gasped and the words flew into her brain. She felt like she was watching a movie or listening to an intricate song. Suddenly, knowledge was there. She was so surprised that she stopped breathing.

“
Breathe!
” Weni commanded.

“Focus on your breathing, Em,” William said in a low tone. “Like yoga or meditation. You’ll see.”

Em turned her attention to her breath. She breathed in the knowledge and let out unknowing. After a time, Weni held out a chair for her. Em sat down. For the next few hours, or maybe a few years, Em sat in the chair while Weni brought her the books, charts, and maps she requested. Her father and Weni added to the pile when they thought she needed information. She focused on breathing and absorbing what he brought her. When she looked up next, the table was clear, and Weni was watching her.

“You have a great capacity for knowledge, Em,” Weni smiled. “I knew that you would.”

“You knew?” Em asked.

“I have watched you for a long time,” Weni said.

“Do the elders have to die?” Em said.

“Nothing
has
to happen,” Weni said. “But happen, it does. The elders are dead in your time, true. They are not dead in all of time. Through you, they aren’t dead at all.”

Pretending what he’d said made sense to her, Em gave him a curt nod. Her father helped her to her feet. Her legs were unsteady — as if she’d been sitting a long, long time. William kept her on her feet until she was steady. Weni watched the entire process with rapt attention.

“I have the feeling that you wish to say something to me,” Em said.

Weni closed his eyes for a moment. Then he opened his eyes and held out his right hand. In his hand a gorgeous maple tree grew. It started as a seedling and then became a young tree, before it transformed into a ten-inch-high tree with wide limbs and gorgeous, light-green leaves.

“Kill it,” Weni ordered.

Em scowled.

“Kill it,” Weni ordered again.

Em placed her hand above the tree and slowly pressed down until her hand reached his. Weni shook his head.

“William?” Weni asked.

“No idea, sir,” William said. “None.”

“Cut off a limb, and the tree survives,” Weni said. “Hang one or even nineteen humans on it, and the tree of knowledge will survive. Cut down a tree, and the tree will regrow from the stump.”