Suffer a Witch (5 page)

Em swallowed hard and nodded.

“I remember waking up,” Em said.

“In your coffin?” Isaac asked.

“We were thrown into a mass grave,” George said. “They stacked us up in a crevice right next to the tree they hanged us on. I was hanged in August, so I was below Em. Em in September. She would have been near the top.”

“My group was the last of the hangings,” Em said. “I
was
near the top. I’m not sure why because I was hanged right after Sam. And . . .”

Em took a deep breath and sighed.

“I remember waking up,” Em said. “It was dark and close. I couldn’t feel my body. I tried to scream, but nothing came out. I was terrified that this was the afterlife. There was no heaven, no God — nothing but this awful, dark closeness . . . and silence.”

Caught up in her memory, Em stared into space.

“I smelled rotting flesh first,” Em smiled. “It was probably George rotting somewhere below.”

“Your first physical experience was the stench of me?” George laughed.

“True love,” Isaac said. Em and George laughed. “What happened next, Grandmother?”

“First the awful smell,” Em said. “And then I could hear things: the wind in the stand of Oak trees, the North River spilling into the bay, crickets, and animals moving in the dark. I’d lost my right eye in the hanging and . . . Well, there was nothing to see. I was under Alice — no, under Ann. I wiggled and moved and shoved and . . . Suddenly, the moon shone, and there I was — sitting in a crevice on the barren hill above town next to the bay.

“I reached for Ann, and she woke with a scream. I mean, we still looked like we’d been hanged. Our heads were like watermelons — bruised — our tongues hanging out. Our garments were soiled with the release brought by death. We couldn’t speak. Alice woke next and then Mary Ayer. We were horrified to be awake and terrified of being found out. Always the doctor, Ann got us to wash on the edge of the bay. Sam woke, Margaret . . . I think Wilmot — no, Mary woke last. By that time, we had a kind of assembly. Ann took them to the water. I helped stick their tongues in, straighten their heads, things like that.”

“Your necks didn’t break?” Isaac asked.

“Short drop and a slip knot,” George said. “It took most of us more than ten minutes in excruciating pain to suffocate. Full death took at least twenty minutes. It’s why they put the bag over our heads. They didn’t want to see our faces turn purple.”

“A couple of us had heart attacks,” Em said.

“And still came back?” Isaac asked.

Em nodded.

“You touched me,” George said. “I remember feeling this bright warmth come to me. I have dreams about it sometimes, and I feel . . . so safe, like I was finally safe after such a long time of wandering.”

George nodded.

“You were out of the ground,” Em said. “They didn’t bury him well. After a month . . . Well, you can imagine.”

“Took more than a year to heal,” George said.

Isaac nodded.

“How are you handling all of this?” Em asked.

“I’ve tried to work out every detail since I was told, Grandmother,” Isaac said. “My father as well.”

“And you’re all right with all of this . . . detail?” Em asked.

“Fascinated at the power of God,” Isaac said.

Em smiled at him and sat down in one of the armchairs in front of his desk.

“Where were we?” Em asked.

“Hanging, awakening,” George said. “Martha and John were hanged on my day.”

“George Jacobs and John Proctor, too, but their families came for them,” Em said.

“They didn’t become immortal?” Isaac asked.

“Not that we know of,” Em said.

“Just those of us in the crevice,” George said.

“It’s hard to explain,” Em said. “I thought . . . I mean, I don’t know why I thought this, but I did.”

She looked at George and then at Isaac.

“I thought maybe our hanging wasn’t done well,” Em said. “I mean, by the time I was hanged, people were already talking about ending the witch trials. I guess I figured we woke up because they’d botched the hangings. We hadn’t really been dead.”

“You weren’t revived from death but recovered from passing out,” Isaac said. “That’s denial. ‘They didn’t really do this to me. It didn’t really happen.’”

“Exactly. That’s what I believed until . . .” Em looked at George. “George and Martha . . . They were . . .rotten. Small animals ate more than one meal from George.”

“And we woke up,” George said. He took the armchair next to Em.

“They woke up,” Em said. “The rest were worse — Sarah Good, Susannah, Elizabeth, and Sarah Wildes.”

“They were hanged in July,” George said. “Bridget in June.”

“If you can imagine, there was no embalming. It was a warm summer,” Em said. “It was . . . disgusting. The weird thing, well, the whole thing is weird, but
a
weird thing was that the people who were rotten didn’t mind being rotten.”

“We were happy to be alive,” George said.

Em nodded.

“I don’t know how long we were there,” Em said. “Gallows Hill was outside of town, but you could see it from every part of town. We were there most of the night, cleaning up and getting our functions back, some.”

“It took years for some of it to come back,” George said. “Especially for those of us who had been dead a while.”

“Giles,” Em said. “He had been pressed to death a couple days before I was hanged.”

“He was there, too?” Isaac asked.

“He was in with us,” Em said.

“The refuse pile,” George said.

“You remember that I had sons?” Em asked George.

“Two,” George said.

“An hour or so before dawn, I went to my teenaged son,” Em said. “He and I were very close. I knew he wouldn’t be afraid; I knew he would know me regardless of how crazy I looked. He didn’t say a word. Of course, I couldn’t talk. He got the horse and wagon he used for his apprenticeship and brought it to Gallows Hill. He and I moved everyone in the wagon. We had to move fast because dawn was coming. He took Alice home to her husband because she was so adamant. Everyone else, he took to a homestead ten miles or more outside of town.”

“Whose was that?” George asked.

“Mine,” Em said. “Well, my late husband’s. He’d bought it for his parents. He hadn’t used it because his parents died before they made it to the US.”

“They died in England?” George asked.

“Right,” Em said. “We’d been married in England. They asked us not to go, but . . . Anyway, the house had been torn down, but the barn was still there.”

“Barn,” George said. “Yes.”

“Someone had to go, get out of Salem Village, and figure out how we would survive,” Em said. “I was in the best shape, so it had to be me. My son dropped me with Alice. Luckily, John, Alice’s husband, let me tag along with them as far as Boston. They went on to the South — North Carolina, I think.”

“You just ‘woke up’?” Isaac asked.

“I did,” Em said.

“I remember Em touching me,” George said. “That’s the first thing I felt since the crushing realization that they weren’t going to stop, that they were going to hang me.”

“And you didn’t know any of the . . . others,” Isaac said. “You weren’t friends or familiars.”

“I’d been in the Boston jail with the other women since April,” Em said. “We’d been through so much together that we were more than acquaintances. Still, I think if we never saw each other again, that would be fine, too. I felt strongly that it was up to me because I was in the best shape physically and mentally.”

Em smiled at Isaac.

“Alice and John let me off on Beacon Hill,” Em said. “It was just dawn. Like I said, I looked frightful. I needed to find a place to hide. When I did, I found Isaac and the children there.”

“My grandfather,” Isaac said.

“Rabbi Isaac Peres,” Em said. “His wife, Emogene Peres, had been hanged for witchcraft in Spain. He knew what had happened to me by looking at me. He and their three young children — two girls and a boy — moved to America to get away from the religious persecution disguised as witch trials. Emogene was supposed to go with them, but . . . She saw them coming for her, for all of them, so she tricked Isaac into leaving with the children. She saved them. He could only watch as she was tried for being a Jew and hanged under the name of witchcraft. Isaac had all of her papers and everything. He offered me a deal right then and there. If I helped him with the children, he would say that I was Emogene.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice; it was also a pretty great deal,” Em said. “I’d studied religion, so Judaism wasn’t a huge stretch for me. Isaac taught me. He found work on the docks. He found us a home. He lived in the outside world, while I took care of our home. I wasn’t able to say a word, not one, for almost a year. I had to wear something over my face for six months or more. It wasn’t easy, but we made a life. After a year or so, we were happy, and the children thrived.”

“Sephardic Jews such as us had been chased through Spain and Portugal, hunted in the name of witchcraft,” Isaac said.

“He was furious about what had happened to me and the others,” Em said. “And he never got over the sacrifice Emogene made for him and their children. He helped me feed and care for the others.”

Em smiled at the great man’s descendant sitting before her.

“He was a good, decent man,” Em said.

“They built a Jewish community here in Boston,” Isaac said.

“Orphanage,” Em said. “There were so many children who’d lost their parents, and Jewish orphans had nothing, no one.”

“They had you,” Isaac said. “Isaac’s son, Solomon, became a rabbi like his father. Isaac’s daughter, Devorah, had married Isaac Lopez, and they’d opened a mercantile in 1716.”

“You loved him,” George said. “I remember that.”

“She saved him,” Isaac said. “It’s family lore that my great-great-grandfather would never have survived America without his Emogene.”

“I don’t think I could have ever replaced Isaac’s Emogene,” Em said. “The loss of her never ebbed for Isaac, but we were happy. Yes, I loved him, his children, and their children. After so much horror and crazy goings-on, it was good to live such a simple life. I loved the big, anonymous city. Still do.”

“They read every book they could get our hands on,” Isaac said. “It’s our family tradition to read widely and talk about ideas. Even the youngest child is expected to share what they know. While it’s fairly common to do that now, it was unusual in the 1700s.”

“The Salem Twenty scattered to the winds,” Em said.

“After the fire,” George said.

“Fire?” Isaac asked.

“Five or six years after moving to the homestead — around the turn of the century, I guess — a fire moved through the area,” George said. “We had to move out. I went to England. Sam and John fought the Indians in the Crown colonies. The women went everywhere —to Boston, New York; some joined immigrant populations all along the Eastern seaboard.”

George shrugged.

“We had to scatter,” Em said. “By that time, we were healthy and getting around well.”

“And well known,” George said.

“People could have easily recognized us,” Em said.

“Did you have . . . powers?” Isaac asked. “I don’t know what you call them.”

“Magic?” Em asked. “I did. You?”

“I didn’t know what it was or how to use that,” George nodded. “That was Em. In her reading, she found books on how to manage this mastery of the elements — fire, water, time, space, air, that kind of thing.”

“I didn’t have the skill to control them,” Em said. “There was no real guidebook. We picked up one thing here, another thing there. Anything we could find.”

“A lot of it was trial and error,” George said.

“Em put a spiritual section in Devorah’s mercantile,” Isaac said. “It’s the first religious bookstore in Boston.”

“I thought it would be a good way to meet anyone who knew anything,” Em said.

“Did you?” George asked.

“Mostly charlatans and some people who knew a tiny bit of how things worked,” Em said. “Since I had all the time in the world, I started to put it together into something that made more sense.”

Em fell silent. She could feel George’s eyes on her face. She smiled at Isaac.

“While I’m deeply glad for it, I’m not sure why we’re here today,” George said.

“Oh,” Em said. “I need a favor.”

“Grandmother, I am always at your service,” Isaac said.

“I need a human to join a group of ghost hunters,” Em said. “I’m going with Shonelle, but I can’t really go with a bevy of witches.”

“Ghost hunters?” Isaac asked.

“They are ghost hunting in Danvers, you know, where Salem Village was,” Em said. “They say they’ve filmed Bridget Bishop’s ghost.”

“Have they?” Isaac asked.

“Something I’d like to find out,” Em said.

“They seem to have stirred up a kind of presence,” George said. “We think this shade is connected to Em in some way.”

“Grandmother?” Isaac looked worried. “What is this?”

“I don’t know any more than that,” Em said. “If I get more information, I think I can figure out what’s going on. But for now, I just have this devil or demon or. . . dark thing. . . and an annoying bunch of kids talking about putting the spirit of one of the witches to rest.”

“Do you think it’s the same kind of apparition that caused all of this?” Isaac asked.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” George asked at the same time Em said, “No.”

Isaac smiled.

“When do they meet?” Isaac asked.

“They are meeting tonight,” Em said. “They are going ghost hunting on Saturday.”

“My eldest, Asher, and I will go,” Isaac said. “It sounds fun.”

“Thank you,” Em said.

“It’s my pleasure,” Isaac said. “Now, if you’re not doing anything, I was thinking about getting some breakfast. Interested?”

Em smiled.

“George?” Isaac smiled. “Let’s take this woman out to eat.”

“As you wish,” George said.

Isaac hopped to his feet. They went through the facility and went out the back. Em was standing with George while Isaac went to get the car.

“Are you okay?” Em asked. “That’s a lot to . . . process.”

“You realize these people . . .” George gestured around him, “they are
human
.”

“Not really.”

“Oh, yeah?” George asked.

“They’re family,” Em said.

George chuckled. She let him hold her.

“I will tell you . . .” George started. He gave her a peck on the lips and let go.

“Yes?”

“I’ve learned something important,” George said. He walked away from her as he talked.

“What’s that?” Em asked.

“We were in suspension until you touched us,” George said.

“What?”

“
You
are the reason we’re immortal witches,” George nodded.

“Me?” Em pointed to herself.

George turned to look at her. She looked so surprised that he had to smile.

“Why me?” Em asked.

“It’s a good question,” George said. “Why were you able to awaken us? If Rebecca and John and George had been there, would you have awakened them as well?”

Em shook her head.

“No — why do you think it’s me?” Em asked.

“You touched us, and we awakened,” George said.

“But I don’t think I touched everyone,” Em said.

“But someone you awoke touched someone else,” George said.

Em made an exaggerated weaving motion to indicate that he was creating a big circle. He smiled.

“I’ll tell you,” Em said. “If I made us witches, I should be able to undo it. I’ve tried for Alice.”

“We’ve all tried for Alice,” George nodded. “It’s not straightforward — that’s for sure.”

“It’s not even crooked,” Em said. “It’s some kind of inter-dimensional weirdness.”

“Inter-dimensional?” George smiled. “Maybe it’s destiny.”

Em shook her head.

“I don’t think I was destined to be hated and hanged by witch-hysterical little girls,” Em said. “You, either.”

“We’ll have to talk about it more,” George said. He put his head down and kissed her lips. “I’m glad I came this morning.”

“You are?” Em asked.

“Very,” George nodded.

Em smiled. Isaac’s car pulled up. Em got in the passenger seat of Isaac’s SUV, and George stepped into the back.

“Do you have a favorite place?” Isaac asked.

Em shook her head.

“I have just the place,” Isaac said. “I hope you don’t mind. I called the family and told them you’re here. They’re all meeting us for breakfast.”

“Sounds nice,” Em said.

“They want to meet Grandmother’s smoking-hot boyfriend,” Isaac laughed.

Em turned around and looked at George. If she didn’t know him better, she would have sworn that he was blushing. He caught her look and smiled.

“What’s going on?” Em asked.

“Family,” George said. “It’s been a very long time since I was around the noise and chaos of family.”

“Three hundred years?” Em asked.

“A little longer than that,” George said.

Isaac looked at him in the rearview mirror and laughed.

At Isaac’s suggestion, Em offered to host the Salem ghost-hunting meeting at the Mystic Divine. Shonelle had called this John Parker, the young man running the meeting, to set it up. The young man and his group had the use of one of the upstairs rooms. The meeting was to go from eight to ten that evening. People began arriving more than an hour early to make sure they got in. By seven-thirty, Em realized they were going to have a problem.

There were too many people and not enough space. Em and Shonelle set up folding chairs in the little sitting area upstairs.

“Who knew the Salem Witches were so popular?” Em asked.

“I knew! Look — the store is packed.” Shonelle leaned into Em. “
And
people are buying things. You should give me a cut of the profits for my brilliance.”

“Sure,” Em said. “How much would you like?”

“You could pay for my college,” Shonelle said. “Oh, wait — you already do that.”

“How . . .?” Em opened her mouth with surprise, but Shonelle flipped her hair and went down the stairs. Em shook her head.

“And you’re the witch,” Sarah Wildes said under her breath as she went by on the way to her class.

Em had offered to pay for Shonelle’s college, like she had her mother, on the condition that Shonelle didn’t know. Clearly, Em needed to talk to Shonelle’s mother. She scowled after the girl before going into the meeting room. George was at the front of the room getting John Parker’s computers hooked up to the overhead. He caught her eye and nodded. They were all set.

“Okay, it’s going to be tight,” the young man who went by the name “John Parker” said. “Try to find a seat.”