Salem Moon (8 page)

The t
urquoise and gold jacket he wore encrusted with small crystal stones shimmered in the morning sunlight. The outfit was completed with black leggings and gold and turquoise slippers.

Although Gabriel guessed he was approximately his own age, he could not be sure. His skin was impossibly smooth, without a trace of facial hair.

Just what in the name of God was this creature? Surely
not a man
.
A man could not change into other beings at will
.

Only one thing was obvious to Gabriel, the strong feeling that it meant him no harm. He recalled the voice in his mind telling him
“
I will take care of thee, always.
”

Was this his guardian angel? Gabriel didn
’
t really believe in angels or ghosts or anything else that he could not see, hear or touch. The only thing he believed in without proof was God himself.

Gabriel found a small amount of strength
;
enough to speak to this vision come to life

“
Who are you? Or perhaps I should ask…w
hat
are you?
”

The man was slow to answer. He cocked his head to one side as if listening to something that Gabriel was unable to hear.

“
My name is Lucien,
”
he
answered
, his voice as calming as a gently rolling sea.

“
What are you then and why are you helping me? I
’
ve never seen the likes of you in my entire life! Are you my…guardian angel, then?
”

“
No, I am not your guardian angel
.
”
He turned his attention away from whatever he
’
d been listening too, back to Gabriel.

“
Then who…?
”

“
Your assumptions are somewhat correct, although not entirely. I am not a guardian angel, but I am…an angel.
”

“
But…you were a wolf only moments ago. How is it that you can do such things?
”

“
I can
change shape
whenever I choose.
”

“
You
must
tell me how you can do this
.
If you are indeed an angel, then where are your wings? I need to know if you are born of Satan or if you are truly what you say you are. Satan has many tricks! Are you one of them?
”

“
Ah
,
”
he sighed deeply,
“
Now we come to the very heart of it. And you, who do not believe in angels or witchcraft or evil and yet here I stand before you. As far as wings, they are only revealed when I feel the need for them.
”

“
Are you…evil then? Do you project the illusion of profound beauty to trick me?
’

“
I stood by you, did I not, against those that have harmed your family, your sister…?
”

“
Where is Abigail? You must tell me at once! Has she been hanged?
”

“
I do not know. I can only stay in one place for a brief moment in time. I cannot linger. I must move on.
”

“
You
must
know
.
Tell me
…
what is it that caught your attention, when you looked away from me?
”

“
I assure you, I do not know what has become of your sister. I am here with you in this time and place. I cannot be in two places at once. My powers do not work that way. What distracted me earlier is of no consequence to you.
”

“
What do you mean to do, then? Will you save me or will you leave me here to die?
”

“
I can save you, but only if you ask me to do so.
”

“
What is it that you want from me, Lucien? There must be a reason you have chosen me.
”

“
Yes that is true, there are many reasons Alas, I will tell you but one. You are still an innocent, untouched by the world, a pure soul. Angels do not have souls, nor do we possess many of the very things you take for granted. That is all I can tell you right now
.
”
Suddenly, he looked very sad.

“
My time here grows short. You must tell me now, Gabriel will you take my hand and go with me or no? The choice is yours and yours alone to make. You must make it, not I.
”

“
I…cannot leave this place without knowing what happened to Abigail. I must try to help her!
”

“
Then, you will surely die. You cannot escape from under these stones, nor
can you
help Abigail. Your
death will be meaningless. But
you may be able to change your destiny if you live.
”

Lucien
’
s image wavered, faded, became transparent and then solidified again while they spoke. Whether Lucien told the truth or not, one thing was certain, time was running out
.

Gabriel used his last breath to make his choice.

“
Yes, Lucien, I will go with thee.
”

“
Angels are bright still, though the brightest have fell.
”

-William Shakespeare

Chapter 14

L
ily Snow sat in her room in the attic of the old colonial where she
’
d grown up
. H
er head
was
bent in concentration
, reading
yet another history book. She twirled her fine long black hair in her fingers as she read
. A
lifelong habit whenever she was reading,
writing
or nervous. History was her passion. She certainly lived in a city full of an enormous amount of it.

The book she read was no ordinary history text book. It was a very old book, given to her by the curator of the Salem Witch Museum, Brianna Swanson. As a history major, she
’
d been offered an amazing opportunity: to do her internship there, while attending Salem State. Ms. Swanson was a lovely woman, but very s
trict about knowing
history. Lily didn
’
t mind at all. She hung on every word Ms. Swanson said.

“
History is very important, Lily,
”
she
’
d
say
.
“
Not only to learn
about
the past, but to learn
from
it
. O
ur future lies in our past. I think you understand that. You
’
re wise beyond your years and full of passion. And you don
’
t blindly believe everything you see, hear or read. You dig deeper, to find truths that may be hidden or that others don
’
t see. A word of caution, as you read some of this material
. It
will contradict what you may believe to be true. Hollywood
’
s portrayal of the Salem witch trials
,
or most other historical events for that matter
,
is pure rubbish
.
These books, pamphlets, articles and personal journals have been authenticated as genuine. They are very old documents and you must handle them with the utmost care.
”
She handed Lily a stack of documents sealed in protective plastic, some so old, the writing was barely legible.

Lily was both excited and nervous at the same time. The information contained in these documents was a
n
historian
’
s dream
.
There were first-hand accounts
in
many
of the
books
,
written in the years following the Witch trials of
1692
.

Honored to have such valuable papers, she was extremely careful when handling the documents. She read late into the night, sometimes putting the papers away just as the sun began to appear over the horizon.

Of course, her parents did not approve of these particular studies. History
was a noble quest and would provide Lily with a good future
,
probably as a professor. There were many prestigious institutions of higher learning throughout New England. However, they did not see any need to study the history of
witchcraft
.
They were not fans of Salem
’
s sordid and well known past. The many tourists that came to Salem each year angered them. People
who
wanted to visit a place where hysteria had taken over and innocent people had been murdered. They bought trinkets at the little shops, pentagrams, charms, books on witchcraft and all sorts of other useless items.

The
Snows
were a very well
-
known and prominent family, having inherited an enormous amount of land and money many years ago. They were also practicing members of Wicca.

Lily was so engrossed in her reading that she
didn
’
t
hear the door open, even though it was an old and squeaky door, having the original elongated
“
witches hex
”
hinges on it. The type of hinges collectors would pay a handsome price for. She knew her parents would never part with them. They
’
d painstakingly worked to keep the house
’
s original grandeur.

The large, sprawling, three story colonial, boasted five fireplaces. The one in the kitchen was made from large pieces of granite; hand-picked by the original builder from the New Hampshire
quarries
. Inside the fireplace, an enormous copper cooking pot hung on a wrought iron hook, just as it had in the kitchens of old.

Throughout the house, the hardwood pine-pegged floor shone. The furniture was heavy and solidly made
. There was a mixture of
Shaker, Amish and of course traditional Colonial
pieces.

The inherent splendor of the house, paled in comparison to the magnificence of its gardens. The
landscaping
was strategically arranged, so that there would always be something blooming from early spring to late fall. This was Lily
’
s mother
’
s pride and joy. Summer Snow believed in the goodness of Mother Nature which was a large part of the Wicc
an religion. In fact, Lily knew
many of the girls in Wicca were named after flowers and other themes of nature.

“
Hey, girl…what
’
s doin
’
?
”
her best friend, Lilac Thompson asked, plunking herself down on Lily
’
s neatly made bed.

“
What does it look like I
’
m doin
’
?
”

“
Well…
duh
.
It looks like you
’
r
e
spendin
’
a beautiful day locked up in this dreary room with your nose stuck in a book. You know it
’
s summer time, right?
”

“
I have to finish reading these for my internship,
Lilac. I really don
’
t have time—
”

“
Boor-ring
.
”
Lilac faked a yawn. Lilac was a happy go lucky, fun-loving girl who could create drama out of just about anything. She was also what she liked to call
“
sexually adventurous.
”
Not exactly the description used by the many boys she
’
d been intimate with. She was very petite
,
with short
“
pixie
”
cut light brown hair,
to which she
’
d added a
colorful streak of deep purple to her eye length bangs. Her small turned
-
up nose and sparkling green eyes
, gave
a hint of mischief to her face.