Salem's Daughters (35 page)

Chapter 57              The Revealing

A female voice. Debbie detected a slight mix of a New England and British accent. She felt like it came from within her ears. But she couldn’t be sure.

“I must be losing my mind,” was all Debbie could say as she peered into the living room.

“No, you haven’t lost your mind. Yet.”

She spun on her heels and looked around. “Who said that?”

“It’s me. Emily.”

Debbie turned back to Bob. “Did you hear that?”

Bob looked into the living room and took a few measured steps. “Sure did. A young female voice with a slight accent from a time gone by. But I have no idea what direction it came from.”

Debbie felt a bit more relieved when Bob confirmed the safety from the twelve gauge Mossberg 500 was off. With a little more to be courageous about, she called out, “Emily. Is that really you?”

“Oh, it’s me, alright,” the voice resounded in her head. “I’m surprised you haven’t made the connections by now. There have been so many deaths right under your nose, and still you’re distracted by all of Darrowby’s bullshit of an investigation. You deserve to go to prison for our crimes.”

“Who are you? Really,” Debbie blurted out as she followed Bob, looking around and behind any furniture still standing. She flipped the second sofa over, kicked over the end tables, and toppled the remaining chairs.

With no more furniture to overturn, she grabbed fixtures and pictures off the wall and heaved them in all directions. The added frustration of an opponent she could not see, taunting her, was driving her to the edge of hysteria.

“How are you doing this?” she shouted. “And why are you killing everyone? You had no right to murder my grandparents. They’re decent, innocent people who never hurt anyone.”

The patronizing laughter of the young woman filled Debbie’s head. It was a haunted sound of amusement that echoed. As soon as one wave of laughter faded, a new one replaced it.

“I seriously doubt that. I bet Ross spent a lifetime screwing other people over so he could get ahead. He was a glutton who had no control over himself or his lusts. He’d do anything to get ahead in life and bring himself satisfaction of any kind.”

“At least my grandparents didn’t murder innocent people. Like you. So don’t judge my family, you freak from hell.”

The empty chilling laughter continued. “You’re a spirited one, Debbie. I’ll give you that. But it’s not enough to save you.”

Debbie had to give a brief audible chuckle, adding a smirk with a sideways smile. Something to counteract Emily’s offensive if she was watching. She wasn’t afraid anymore.

The confusion faded, like weights lifting from her eyes. There was now a voice to place with the force behind the evil, even if it wasn’t audible; something personified she could identify with rather than a cowardly foe who refused to show herself. Her smirk turned into a full grin.

“Where are you, Emily?” She emulated her adversary’s condescending pitch that said
bring it
,
bitch.

“Over here. On the sofa.”

The tone was calm, as if she was being spoken to as a child. Debbie walked around the toppled sofa twice, Bob beside her, shotgun ready to unload. She turned the furniture right side up, but no Emily.

“I don’t see you.”

In an instant, a black cat with three large white spots appeared on the center cushion. Bob stepped back, visibly confounded by what just happened. But Debbie would not be intimidated.

“I know you’re trying for a grand entrance to try to scare me. But it’s not going to work. I don’t fear you.”

Bob spoke. “What the hell are you disgusting creatures? You’re not from this world.”

Emily sat still, her head moving back and forth between Debbie and Bob. Her words came, but her mouth remained closed.

“Oh, we most certainly are from this world. Born and raised.”

Debbie was disgusted by the pretentious manner in which Emily addressed them. “Bob. Don’t allow her to talk down to us. We’re in control here. This is our house. And we’re going to blast these stupid cats into oblivion.”

Debbie heard the laughter a third time. It was clear Emily believed she was above them.

“Don’t ever call me stupid. This is your one and only warning. Do it again and I’ll kill you where you stand. That being said, please allow me to give you a brief rundown on who we are and how we ended up as your
pets
. I use that term so loosely. Anyway, each of us has an individual and unique ability.”

“Had,” Debbie responded without hesitation. “By my recollections, at least four of you are dead.”

Emily continued without skipping a beat. “Forget about the abilities. Think of it as a gifting, if you will. For example, Midnight, she who despises Bob more than any of us for giving her that stupid name when I clearly told you to call her Amy, can teleport. She can transfer herself from one place to another in an instant.

“And as leader of my clan, I possess all of the gifts to varying degrees. So naturally, I can teleport myself as well. We can only move short distances, like across the house. But it’s a great ability to have, wouldn’t you agree?”

Emily disappeared. Debbie looked to her left and right, then into the kitchen.

“I’m behind you,” Emily said through a sigh, as if a cat were bored with a new toy after playing with it for a brief minute.

Debbie turned around. Emily was sitting on the overturned coffee table.

“How did you do that? I don’t understand. You’re cats.”

“Not exactly,” Emily’s voice resonated in Debbie’s head. She looked to Bob, who nodded he could also hear.

“I won’t waste any time. Yours, or ours. We’re daughters of the women hung at the Salem Witch Trials and various other witch hunts you won’t read about in your history books. Fifteen years later, the same mob and their sons, came after us.”

Debbie wasn’t sure if she should be wasting her time talking to Emily. But the past few months had been nothing less than traumatic. Tonight she lost her grandparents. She needed to know.

“Came after you? Why?”

“Ugh. Just shut up and listen. We’re their offspring. Now do you understand? Of course, the male descendants were not persecuted. I guess that was a sign of the times four hundred years ago. Anyway, the women, including myself, had no choice but to escape. We had a plan. Otherwise, we’d have died a very brutal human death.

“So we prepared to separate our souls from our bodies. This was an ancient and most difficult magic within our craft. As our physical bodies fell to the ground in a heap, our souls entered a litter of young cats in the first of their nine lives.”

“I don’t believe it,” Bob finally said.

“Ah, Boring Bob. I’m not surprised. Here. Brace yourself. Maybe this will help.”

Debbie felt something, or someone, invading her mind. Numbness began to dull her will. She could only explain it as a presence penetrating the defenses of her resolve. It controlled her thoughts while leaving her free will to wonder and question the events unfolding inside her head.

Debbie wretched and clutched her head in defiance. But she couldn’t stop the stream of thoughts entering from the left and parading across her mind.

The images came swiftly. Sound followed. It was as if she were watching a movie, then sucked into the scene. The landscape was vivid and laden with emotion. Emily’s bitterness and hatred consumed Debbie to the point she felt she was living in the event. She could feel the cool temperatures and a mist in the air.

An auburn haired woman of seventeen led dozens of young women racing down a muddy moonlit two-wheel path through a heavily wooded area. They desperately tried to outrun a mob with torches and pitchforks. With the clothes everyone wore, the muskets and flintlock pistols the pursuers fired, Debbie discerned this had to be Colonial America.

“That would be me,” Emily said, the words hostile and bitter. “Trying to save my people from a mob of drunken idiots.”

Debbie saw some fall in midstride. Three horsemen rode to the front of the riotous throng and chopped down the women with pistols and hatchets.

“See that innocent young girl,” Emily spat out. “She’s my beloved sister, Sarah. She was only fifteen. Sarah had her whole life ahead of her. I promised my mother I would watch over her.”

Debbie couldn’t move. She felt like her vocal cords were rusted shut. Her eyes were forced to stay open and watch the madness and carnage unfold. Her focus zeroed in on Sarah as she saved Emily’s life, but was cut down by a hatchet between her shoulders.

Then Debbie plunged deeper into the vision. She felt the hooves of horses thundering on the ground. An intense pain of the cold night air, being forced in and out of her lungs as she was also running for her life, was overwhelming.

More young women were gashed down to the left and right. Up ahead, a barn stood. The doors opened on their own. Emily led the women in with the three horsemen, then the doors closed moments before the mob could reach them.

The scene fast forwarded to two of the horsemen dead on the ground. The third was naked and babbling like a madman to his horse.

There were over twenty women in the barn. One, a dark haired beautiful girl about the same age as Emily, began running in a circle. A younger woman, the spitting image of the circling girl, and most likely a younger sister, encouraged her on. A small fire started in the center.

“Rebecca,” Debbie managed to eke out.

“That’s right,” Emily said, the repulsive vile still in her voice. “That’s Rebecca. And Annie was her younger sister.”

Oh, shit,
was all Debbie could think. No wonder Annie always followed Rebecca around Murcat Manor. Annie, who died in the basement last night during the filming of
American Ghost Stories
.

Rebecca stopped, looked to the top of the barn, and threw her arms in the air. Four streams of fire arched upward then dropped into the four corners of the barn. Livestock became restless. Horses and cows looked dangerous as they panicked. Within moments, the enormous building was ablaze with light as smoke filled the air.

A searing pain consumed Debbie’s being, as if she were one of them. She felt like she was being turned inside out as she left her body and entered a cat. She watched through the wildcat’s eyes as the women collapsed on the dirt floor, eyes wide open.

Their souls escaped from their mouths and fought for a feline host as they kicked the souls of the host cats out of their respective bodies with a quick but powerful hex. The battle for a host was intense but brief. Some would win and live to breathe another day. The rest would die.

Debbie snapped back to reality. Bob. He was shaking her. She was breathing heavily. Her head was soaked with sweat.

“Only thirteen of the original thirty-nine survived that night.”

Emily. She was sitting on the center cushion of the sofa again. Her voice was calm with a hint of superiority.

“Twenty-six of my sisters died in the forest between Salem and Boston four hundred years ago. Thirteen of us escaped. Long story short, we were adopted by families over the first six of our nine lives, the most recent being you and Bob. In our third life, our adopted family moved westward across New England, through Pennsylvania into Ohio, and then southern Michigan. And here we now are.”

Debbie’s evening had been a roller coaster ride of emotions. She felt overwhelmed and on the verge of fainting. But she had to be strong. And Bob, her strength, was beside her. Together they would kill Emily and whoever remained from her four hundred year old coven.

Emily continued to laugh and mock them. “Murcat Manor is going to burn.
Burn
, do you hear me? Leveled into a festering heap of smoking ashes. And we’ll frame you and Boring Bob for the murder of your grandparents. Isn’t that right, ladies?”

Debbie was unable to express any words as she watched the other cats, one by one, file into the living room. They lined up on each side of Emily. Debbie did the math. Six cats in front of her. Four dead that she knew of. That left three missing. Isabella. Madelyn. But the most disturbing absence was Rebecca. Not good.

“We must be imagining this,” Bob said. “The stress. That has to be it.”

Emily sighed. Her condescending voice returned.

“Boring Bob, will you ever be a believer? Maybe this will help. I’ll get right to the point so not to lose your attention. These are our powers. Listen up. Pay attention. This is important. Especially since you’re going to die. Midnight, she can teleport herself.”

Midnight disappeared from the overturned sofa. Debbie looked left and right, then saw the black cat materialize on the other side of the room. Before Debbie could process the impossible feat, Midnight was gone, only to emerge from behind the sofa. She jumped back up and took her place next to Emily.

“Okay, okay. That’s enough. Thank you, Midnight. Save some of your energy for later. Moving on, Helen can lock, unlock, and reverse the flow of solids, liquids, and electricity. And for the record, she killed Paul Knudson at the breakfast table by causing him to gag and have a heart attack at the same time. She also cross-switched the Leeds brothers minds.”