Suffer a Witch (26 page)

“Is my father alive?” she whispered.

The cross shot to the southern position.
No
. Em gasped in horror. The demon had been correct. She was the last of her kind. Swallowing hard, she gritted her teeth against the pain that shot through her heart. She started the cross in a circle again.

“Should I marry George?” she asked.

The cross swung evenly around the circle until it pointed to the north.
Yes
. Em grinned at her girlish question. Feeling brave, she formulated the question she needed an answer to. She started the cross swinging in a circle.

“Are all of the people like me gone?” Em’s voice cracked when she said the last word.

The cross didn’t hesitate. It shot straight to the north position.
Yes
. Em took a quick breath to keep from sobbing. Rather than think too much, she swung the cross and asked the next question.

“Does my demon still exist?” she whispered.

The cross shot to the north position.
Yes
. Em swallowed hard and started the cross swinging.

“Are all of the demons still alive?” Em asked.

The cross moved to the north position.
Yes
. Em felt as if the bottom had fallen out of the world. The demons had already won. There was no reason to bother fighting. The demons had killed all of her kin. They would always win.

She held the cross over the blotter to ask one last question. Swinging it in a circle, she swallowed hard before asking:

“Will I find a way to win against the demons?”

The cross shot to the north position.
Yes
. Em smiled.

Then she realized that she’d received a number of “yes” answers in a row. She needed to check the pendulum. She thought for a moment before coming up with a question with a “no” answer. She started the cross in a wide circle.

“I’m pregnant,” Em said.

The pendulum shot to the
Yes
position. Em shook her head at herself. The cross had sat in someone’s drawer for more than three hundred years. She shouldn’t have expected it to actually work! She shoved the cross deep into her pocket and went about her day.

Her hanging day began with an early-morning phone call from Shonelle. John Parker had died in the night. He’d never regained consciousness after the demon-induced stroke on Gallows Hill. There was no listed next of kin, so Shonelle begged Em to go with her to collect his body.

Em and Shonelle were standing in the Massachusetts General morgue at eight in the morning. The entire place reeked of death. Shonelle didn’t smell it. But Em’s witch’s senses were overwhelmed with the blood, body matter, and decay of death.

“I’ll give you a moment with him,” the attendant said.

“Thank you,” Em said.

“The funeral home is. . .”

“MacIntosh,” Em said. “They should be here this morning. We’re not having a service.”

“Just a cremation,” Shonelle said. With the words, she began to weep. “We’ll bury him tomorrow.”

“And there’s no family?” the attendant asked.

“Not that anyone can find,” Em said with a smile. “We’ve posted his photo on websites and in papers across the country. No one’s come forward.”

“He. . . was. . . m-m-my. . . boyfriend,” Shonelle said between sobs.

The attendant gave his best approximation of a sympathetic nod. When Shonelle looked down, the attendant rolled his eyes. He gave Em a shrug and led them into a small, airless room where the demon-free body of John Parker lay. Shonelle wept into her handkerchief, while Em silently cast a spell to determine the identity of the corpse.

The number 1625 appeared on John Parker’s forehead, and Em scowled. John Parker belonged in 1625. They had already tested his DNA and determined he was not any kind of descendant of Alice Parker. Em wondered if this John Parker was actually Alice’s father-in-law. She was so deep in thought that she didn’t notice that Shonelle had stopped crying.

“Em?” Shonelle’s voice caused Em to jump. “Sorry.”

“I was miles away,” Em said. She put her arm around Shonelle.

Shonelle nodded. For a moment, they stared at the young man’s face.

“I wanted. . . well. . .” Shonelle’s face flushed with emotion. “Did you see those. . .”

Shonelle looked around to make sure no one was in the room with them. She leaned into Em.

“Demons,” Shonelle whispered.

“Demons?” Em asked.

“When you and George and the others were looking for Gallows Hill,” Shonelle said. “I haven’t slept a wink since. . . since. . . And. . .”

Shonelle started crying again. Em waited for the flood to end.

“I saw something,” Em said with a nod. “Why do you ask?”

“I. . .” Shonelle started. “You know how I’m a descendant of Martha Corey — you know, the Salem witch?”

Em gave Shonelle a vague shrug.

“Today is the anniversary of her hanging day, and. . .” Shonelle said.

Shonelle waved her hand at John Parker.

“With the demons and everything. . ..” Shonelle leaned into Em. “I haven’t really been here for him.”

“I don’t think there’s been much him to be here for,” Em said. “He never woke up from the coma.”

Shonelle nodded and blew her nose.

“I was
scared
,” Shonelle said in a low voice. “And now. . .”

Shonelle gave an exaggerated sigh.

“Do you think it’s a coincidence that he died today — of all days?” Shonelle asked.

“Well.” Em looked up and gave a little shrug. “There’s been more than three hundred anniversaries of Martha Corey’s hanging day.”

“So you don’t think this is my fault?” Shonelle asked.

“Your fault?” Em asked.

“Because I’m like Martha Corey, and she was a witch,” Shonelle said. “And the demons and everything.”

“In the first place, Martha Corey was a kind, decent woman of great Christian faith,” Em said with a sniff. “She was no witch.”

“But. . .”

“And in the second place. . .” Em made a conscious effort to relax. She smiled at Shonelle. “We all only have one life — Martha Corey, you, John Parker, me. You’re not responsible for what happens in someone else’s life.”

She gestured to the corpse.

“This young man was very ill,” Em said. “And, by the grace of God, he is finally at peace.”

“And the
demons
?” Shonelle asked.

“May they be at peace as well,” Em said.

Shonelle seemed so surprised by Em’s words that she gave a little gasp. She stared at Em, who nodded.

“No one starts their life with the goal of. . .” Em started one of Shonelle’s mother’s favorite sayings.

“. . . becoming a demon,” Shonelle finished the statement with a smile.

“Exactly,” Em said. “Why don’t you go to the bathroom get cleaned up? We’re meeting George for breakfast.”

“Your pre-wedding meal!” Shonelle grinned.

“Pancakes,” Em said. “I’ll talk to the attendant and meet you by the bathrooms.”

Shonelle smiled and nodded. When the girl had left the room, Em pressed the call button. She was staring at the wall wondering how this John Parker was related to Alice’s John when she heard movement. Looking back at the body, she saw the shadow face of her demon on John Parker’s face.

“You know what you need to do,” the demon said.

“That’s the thing,” Em said. “I don’t know.”

The demon opened John Parker’s mouth to say something, but the attendant came in. The demon was gone. Em thanked the attendant and went to find Shonelle. Together, they went to meet George, Isaac, and Isaac’s entire family for breakfast.

One nice thing about immortality was that Em was the same size and shape she’d been when she died. Em stepped in front of her full-length mirror. She was wearing a calf-length, silver beaded dress that she’d bought in 1917 to marry George. The word came the morning of the wedding — America had entered World War I, and Captain George Burroughs needed to report for duty. While George prepared for another war, Em had packed away this beautiful dress and her dreams of ever becoming his wife.

She turned sideways. The silver beads made a lovely tinkling sound when she turned. Using magic, she made some minor alterations to modernize the dress. Of course, she’d used magic to clean the tarnish from the silver beads and reduce the weight of the ridiculously heavy dress. She smiled. It was lovely.

She’d put her hair up in such a way as to create three roses at the nape of her neck. She was going to carry three long-stem white roses to match her hair. At Alice’s insistence, she’d stuck a silver hair comb with a length of tulle under the roses in her hair. She smiled at herself.

“You look. . .” George’s voice came from behind her.

Em looked up to catch his face.

“Wow,” George said.

“You look pretty ‘wow’ yourself!” Em said.

George was wearing a light-grey tux with a white bow tie and tails that matched her silver dress. He smiled at her compliment.

“Are you ready?” Em asked. “Two weddings, plus your own.”

“I’m excited,” George smiled. “This day marks the start of a new era for us, for all of us. The demons are gone. We have from now until eternity to be together. Did you hear Mary’s news?”

“I’ve been so caught up in getting everything ready, I haven’t had time for anyone’s news,” Em said and shook her head.

“She’s pregnant,” George said.

Em’s mouth dropped open.

“What?” Em asked in a shocked whisper. She turned around to look at him. George raised his eyebrows and nodded.

“John is thrilled,” George said. “I think that’s why they were so adamant about getting married. They want God to bless their union and the child.”

George beamed.

“I knew she wasn’t feeling well,” Em said. “I thought it was just the overwhelm of being back in Boston. I told her she should go see Ann. Did she?”

“Of course,” George said. “Wait. . .”

He went out into their living room and returned with a photo. He gave it to her.

“It’s called an ultrasound,” George said. “John’s so happy that he made a copy for everyone.”

Em took the image from George. The image showed a yellowish-grey blob. She shook her head.

“I don’t know what I’m looking at,” Em said.

“I’d never seen one, either,” George said. “I guess they can use this
ultrasound
to look inside the womb. It seems unnatural to me, but John assured me it’s common for everyone to have one now.”

He pointed to a bump on the image.

“That’s the nose,” George said.

“Oh, I see,” Em said. “That’s a face, a head. . . . How cool.”

“And that’s. . .”

“She’s having a boy,” Em said.

Beaming, George nodded. They stood with their heads bent over the photo.

“They want to name him ‘Isaac,’” George said.

“After Mary’s husband,” Em said.

George nodded.

“I think that’s why they’ve been so adamant about getting married,” George repeated.

“You don’t think Bridget and Giles. . .?” Em asked.

George shrugged.

“She was at least sixty when she was hanged,” Em said. “But then, Mary was in her fifties.”

“Killing the demons has brought youthful vigor to us all,” George said with a grin.

They looked at the picture for a moment. George looked up into Em’s face.

“Do you think we. . .?” George asked. “You know that I love children.”

“You had nine,” Em smiled.

“Ten, with Benoni,” George flushed. “I. . . uh. . . I. . . um. . . I’d love to have eleven or twelve or. . .”

George grinned. Em gave him a searching look.

“Susannah told me you don’t have sex with the others anymore,” Em said.

George looked into her face.

“I guess. . . well. . .” Em said.

“You’re wondering why,” George said.

Em bit her lip and looked away. George touched the cleft in her chin, and Em turned to look at him. He raised his eyebrows to encourage her to respond.

“I’m surprised, I guess,” Em said.

George nodded.

“And I’m surprised you didn’t tell me,” Em said.

“My sexual promiscuity didn’t
ever
have anything to do with you,” George said.

Em nodded. She moved away from him to her dresser, where she picked up the silver cross Detective Donnell had returned to her.

“Your cross,” George said with a smile.

“You knew about the cross?” Em asked. “I thought no one knew about the cross.”

“I’ve seen you naked,” George said.

“But. . .” Em said.

“I knew you didn’t have it when we awoke,” George said.

“I’d given it to Lydia,” Em said. “Lydia Dustin. Detective Donnell is related to her granddaughter, Susan. He gave it to me.”

“Detective Donnell?” George asked.

“Why didn’t you chastise me for the cross?” Em asked. “It was against Puritan law!”

“I know. I should have,” George said. “But, those moments, with you, in Salem — they were the highlight of my life. They were the best, more meaningful moments of my life. I had never felt more alive, so overcome with love and passion. I memorized every detail. I would replay them in my mind for. . . years.”

Em gave him a soft smile.

“There was a moment, when we were done, that you touched your throat.” George reached out to touch the cross. “You touched this cross.”

He smiled.

“I remember every moment, even now,” George said with a nod. He turned away from her. “I guess it seems weird that I was so promiscuous.”

“George,” Em started.

“No, Em, let me finish,” George said. “I was standing on a hill in Laos, 1965. In the valley, our planes were dropping bombs. The sound of people’s terror echoed through the forest canopy. Helicopters flew low, with guns blazing. It was pre-dawn. I was following behind the planes. My team was to clear out any resistance. There was this building. Nothing much. It just looked like. . .”

George shrugged.

“A building,” George said. “I stepped inside and. . . There was this gold statue at the front — a seated Buddha, I think, although the villagers said it was their monk. The villagers spoke of him as if he were alive, which is why I went there.”

George glanced at Em to see if she was following him. She gave him a soft nod to continue his story.

“The statue spoke to me.” George raised an eyebrow when Em’s eyebrows pinched together with concern. “It called me by name. God or demon, I had no idea and no faculty or experience to determine which. The statue said: ‘Who do you love, George Burroughs?’”

George looked at Em.

“I said, ‘Martha.’” George’s voice dropped. “The statue said: ‘Through her love, she gave you the gift of life. That is powerful love.’ I was terrified because this thing knew I was a witch. I raised my machine gun to destroy it, but before I could do anything, the statue said: ‘What do you give her in return?’ And I realized that I had no idea. My entire life had been transformed by your love. I was nothing, no one, until we met in Salem, and this. . . Your love has always been my prize possession, and I. . .”

George shrugged.

“So I stopped screwing around,” George said. “Just until I could figure it out and. . .”

George gave an impish shrug.

“I never wanted to be with another,” George said. “Not ever. I was just. . . foolishly playing with the only thing I valued. ”

He shook his head.

“Now, I only want to be worthy of your love,” George said. “I work every day to be worthy of the love you give so freely.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Em smiled.

“Embarrassed, mostly,” George said. “There I was, a Reverend, an expert in God’s love. Then a love so profound and boundless is given to me, and I. . .”

George scowled at himself and looked down. She tipped his head up and kissed his lips. He looked deep into her eyes before smiling.

“Will you marry me?” George asked.

“I am doing just that today,” Em said.

“That’s very good,” George said.

“What happened to the statue?” Em asked.

“No idea,” George said. “I was called out of there. I never saw it again.”

“We should go Laos,” Em said. “Find this statue that changed your life.”

“You’d leave Boston?” George asked. He voice spoke his surprise.

“Sure,” Em said. “Maybe in November, when it starts to get cold.”

“Good plan,” George said.

He held his elbow out.

“Shall we go?” George asked.

“It would be my pleasure,” Em said.

She took his arm, and they left their apartment. Downstairs, a limousine waited to take them to Bridget’s Beacon Hill mansion and the celebration.

It was a celebration to beat all celebrations.

George officiated the marriage of Bridget and Giles first. Em walked Giles down the aisle. She kissed his cheek and hugged him tight before leaving him to wait for Bridget. Sam brought Bridget down the aisle. She had never looked more beautiful. George led them in a very traditional Puritan service, with solemn pledges and lots of scripture. For Em, who had attended to no fewer than seven of Bridget’s eleven weddings, this was Bridget’s most heartfelt and beautiful wedding. Bridget cried through the entire ceremony.

Mary and John had a more modern ceremony. They walked to the front together. While Bridget had worn white lace, Mary had chosen a lovely, fitted, ivory silk dress that highlighted the miraculous bump in the front of her dress. This was both John and Mary’s first immortal wedding. They were the very image of joy. George led them through a modern Presbyterian ceremony that echoed its Puritan roots.

They had planned to wait an hour after Mary and John before George led the community in marrying him and Em. Without warning, Isaac arrived with his entire family in tow. Isaac was no George. He took hold of the audience at once. The quiet reverence of the other weddings slipped away as Isaac led them through a rousing Jewish wedding ceremony, steeped in tradition. Em had never felt as loved or as happy.

The party continued all night. Isaac and his family left around nine. Shonelle and her mother stayed until ten. After eleven, only the witches and their human partners remained. Ann and her fiancé danced. Alice and her once-client-now-boyfriend sat talking in the corner. Martha’s Bruce told jokes and kept their table entertained. For the first time, Sam brought his human partner to the ceremony. His partner was handsome, funny, and a descendant of George Jacobs. They had a ball. The witches danced, laughed, ate great food, and celebrated vanquishing the demons.

Around dawn, the witches began to slip away. Sarah Wildes offered to continue the party at her home, and the witches joined her. Giles and Bridget slipped away to a suite at the Liberty. Mary and John preferred to go home. As a surprise, Alice had booked Em and George a room at the Ritz-Carlton. They left Bridget’s Beacon Hill mansion to cross the Common near dawn. The ghosts of the soldier and the little girl came by to congratulate them. While George checked them into the hotel, Em slept with her face against his shoulder. She vaguely remembered George undressing her. They were tucked into their bed with the “Do Not Disturb” tag on their door before the sun had warmed the Common.

Em fell into a deep sleep. In her sleep, she was transported back to the day she’d seen George for the first time. She had been shopping at the outdoor vegetable vendors. Her son, Thomas, had come with her to help carry groceries. She knew that a new Reverend was due in town, but she could have cared less. Her life was too overwhelming for new Reverends, squabbling churches, or any other nonsense.