The Cornelius Saga Series Box Set 2

by Tanya R. Taylor

  Reverend Ike took center stage on the pulpit at a half past eleven and delivered a dynamic message. Matilda noticed that Ann was sobbing occasionally as the sermon was rendered.

  After the service, Matilda embraced her friend.

  “Are you all right, Ann?” she asked.

  “I am, thank you.” Ann managed a half-smile. “I must say, that is one service the good Reverend delivered that seemed to scream at me. I mean… it really made me think about life, in general, my walk with God and that word purity he kept mentioning.”

  Matilda nodded.

  “After all that’s happened, I think I’m ready to turn over a new leaf and get serious, you know? Besides, none of us ever knows how much time we have left. I think for most of our lives, we get caught in this warped mindset that we’re invincible.”

  “I know what you mean,” Matilda said.

  “Anyway...” she kissed Matilda on both cheeks, “I’ll see you later.” Scarface was waiting next to the carriage to take Ann and the children home.

  As Matilda looked at Scarface, who barely ever made eye contact with anyone, she wondered where he was the day George had died. No one had mentioned that he was anywhere on the property and she, herself, did not see him at all that day. She hoped, for her sake, he was not there.

  * * *

  After the baked bread had cooled that afternoon, Ann covered it with a white cloth and slipped on her shoes.

  “Where are you going, Mommy?” Bradley, who was sitting at a table playing cards with his brother, asked.

  “I’m going to take this bread over to Matilda’s house. Thought I’d surprise her with it. After all, raisin is her favorite.” She smiled. “Is Ruth still napping?”

  “Yes,” Buster answered, glancing up.

  “Well, you boys hurry up with that game. You need to go out and chop some wood for the fire.” She picked up the loaf of bread and headed out the door.

  Mounting the porch of her neighbor’s house, she thought she heard some weird sounds, although subtle, emanating from the inside.

  She approached the door with the intention of knocking, but suddenly, curiosity got the best of her and instead, she went over and peeped inside the front window. As the curtains were open, she could clearly see that no one was in the main area of the house, and since one of the bedrooms was adjacent to the main room, she stepped off the porch and walked over to the left side of the house, and tip-toeing, looked inside the bedroom window. Through the slit in the curtain, she saw them – both stark naked, rolling around in bed like wild animals in heat. Gasping, Ann’s eyes widened with shock as her neighbors, being blood cousins, were breaking all the rules of morality, society and plain common sense. Stephen and Matilda’s passionate lovemaking made her sick to her stomach right then and there and she almost dropped the loaf she had been carrying.

  Ensuring that she left as quietly as she arrived, Ann hurried back to her house and quickly shut the door behind her, then she sank into the nearest chair.

  “Mommy, what’s wrong?” Buster asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Ann could hardly catch her breath. The unholy scene she saw moments earlier was replaying in her mind.

  “Bradley, go outside and get started on the wood,” she said to her younger son.

  After the boy left, Buster went over to his mother. “What is it, Mommy? What happened?”

  “Sit down, child. You would never believe it.”

  She confided in him since he was the eldest and briefly explained that she saw their good neighbors in a compromised position. She knew Buster wasn’t stupid and could read through the lines.

  “They either lied to us, Buster, or they’re actually related.” She shook her head. “I feel so heartbroken and foolish knowing I trusted and believed them – never doubting anything they said from the day they got here. Matilda’s my friend. How could she deceive me this way?”

  Buster was silent with shock, then gradually, he felt guilt creeping in as well.

  “I must tell you something, Mommy,” he finally said. “It’s something I’ve kept hidden since the incident with George.”

  “What is it?” she asked.

  Ann listened intently as Buster explained in detail the events of that fateful day, also making known the fact that Matilda had asked him to keep her secret.

  Without much forethought, Ann quickly got up again.

  “Where are you going?” Buster asked her.

  “To see the reverend. If Stephen or Matilda comes around while I’m gone, don’t let on that we know anything, okay?”

  He nodded.

  “Lock the door behind me. I’ll be back soon.”

  That evening, a private, emergency meeting was called at the church hall. Approximately fifty parishioners were in attendance – mostly men. Ann was among them.

  9

  _________________

  Stephen left for work at seven o’clock the following morning. Matilda saw him off with her usual kiss, then went about her daily routine.

  There was not a cloud in the sky the entire day and as Matilda did a little gardening in the front yard, it occurred to her that she may not have seen a lovelier day since she and Stephen moved to Newport. She lovingly thought of her mother and siblings too and wondered how they were doing. She also wondered if it might be safe, considering the passage of time, for her to return home to Mizpah for an unexpected visit, although briefly, and preferably at night. She decided she would mention it to Stephen when he arrived home from work.

  Later on, she prepared some tarts for Ann’s children for after school. Buster was now working at the mill, so he was no longer home throughout the day.

  That afternoon, however, she noticed that Bradley and Ruth did not show up, so she decided to take some of the tarts over to them. Receiving no answer at the door, she returned home with the assumption that they must have stopped off somewhere on their way home.

  Matilda thought it was unusually quiet that afternoon as she sat outside on the porch.

  When she saw Ann walking over, her face lit up.

  “What a wonderful sight to see!” Matilda exclaimed. “And what have you got there?”

  Holding a large pitcher, Ann mounted the porch. She had a wide smile on her face.

  “I stopped off at old Kelly Emersen’s place and she was selling these today.” She rested the pitcher on the small, wooden table and sat down.

  “What is it?”

  “Sweet herbal tea! Girl, no one in town mixes a cup like she does. So when she sells a few jugs, which is only once in a while, they sell like hot cakes.”

  “I’ll go and get the glasses. Can’t wait to taste it.” Matilda replied.

  Upon returning, she handed Ann a glass. “By the way, where are the children? I haven’t seen them today.”

  “Oh, they’re having a sleepover at my aunt’s cottage. Didn’t I tell you?”

  “No, you must’ve forgotten. I made tarts today, quite a few actually, so don’t leave without taking some.”

  “How nice! Ruth and the boys will be happy to sink their teeth into them and so will I!” Ann replied.

  “Shall we eat some with our tea?”

  “I dare say, nothing goes better with Kelly’s tea.”

  A few minutes after eating a tart and drinking a glass of tea, Matilda started to feel extremely light-headed, as Ann chatted about her day. Then her vision became blurry and realizing something was very wrong, she tried to get Ann’s attention. But the words forming in her mind, for some reason, would not escape her lips, and Ann’s focus was suddenly straight ahead toward the empty street.

  Matilda had no idea at which point everything around her abruptly faded to black.

  10

  _________________

  “Knocking off now, huh?” Stephen’s boss, Walter, asked him at the factory. They were in the right wing where Stephen often hung his coat whenever the main area got too hot. Oddly, no one was in the room with them that time of the evening whe
n many of the men would be getting ready to head home.

  “Yeah. Another long day.” Stephen grabbed his coat. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, tomorrow,” Walter replied, behind him. He slipped a steel rod into his hand from the nearby shelf and brought it down heavily over his head. Stephen dropped to the floor; blood draining from the deep puncture wound in his head.

  11

  _________________

  Matilda awoke to the sounds of incoherent voices and the smell of flaming torches. Perplexed and discombobulated, she found herself lying in the back of a wagon, then a couple of faces she didn’t recognize were pulling her out by the ankles.

  “What… what’re you doing?” Her voice was low and weak. She felt groggy.

  After yanking her out of the wagon, they forced her to her feet. She looked around – it was dark out. The torches held by others served as the only form of light. Tall, lanky trees were everywhere and no buildings were in sight. The most frightening aspect was what Matilda saw before her, just beyond the men who had put their rough hands on her. Gathered around were dozens more people with torches, shouting and demanding that she be slaughtered.

  “Burn her at the stake, like every witch before her!” She recognized that as the voice of old Kelly Emersen, whose tea she remembered drinking probably hours earlier.

  “Yeah, tie her up and get the wood!” Someone else cried.

  Russ Geritt stepped forward. “You lying whoremonger!” he snarled.

  “What are you talking about?” Matilda fought the grogginess, but to little avail.

  “You and your lover come into this town and take us all for a bunch of fools. You sit in our church, shop at our stores, and befriend us only for us to find out we were wickedly deceived.”

  She was trapped between possibilities in her mind as to what he could be referring to. Could they have discovered her and Stephen’s reason for leaving Mizpah or was he referring to the fact that they were not related? “Where’s Stephen?” she asked.

  “Ooh, you mean your cousin Stephen?” Russ responded with a smirk.

  “Where is he?” she insisted.

  “He went to meet His Maker – just as you’re going to meet yours tonight!”

  Matilda was suddenly struck by fear. She could feel her heart racing as the reality of what those words implied crept into her soul. “You mean… Stephen’s… dead?”

  No one bothered to answer her.

  She noticed Reverend Ike in front of the crowd. He was quiet, but apparently in full support of what he was witnessing.

  “Reverend...” Matilda started, “...aren’t you going to stop this?”

  He didn’t respond. An air of austerity encapsulated him.

  “See...” Russ gestured with his hand. “There’s no one here to save you. We’re only here for one purpose and that is to rid this town and this world of an evil whoremonger and witch.”

  “Why do you call me such things?” Matilda was hurt.

  “She’s playing with us!” A woman among them shouted. “She has intercourse with her relative and thinks we’re stupid. Everything hidden is revealed, harlot!”

  “Oh! So that’s what this is about. You don’t understand!” Matilda replied. “Okay, Stephen and I lied. We are not related. We love each other and have for many years. We planned to wed someday.” She started to sob. “We kept our relationship a secret because we didn’t know how you people would react to us living together as lovers when we were unwed. That’s the only reason we lied – to protect ourselves from your judgments!” She felt herself growing angrier by the thought of what they might have done to Stephen. “And why call me a witch? I am no such thing!”

  “The boy said you are.” Russ said, evenly, which immediately reminded her of Stephen’s words at the table about entrusting Buster with her secret. “We know the whole story – how you killed George. He might’ve been guilty of what he did, but you had no right using your satanic powers to snuff the life out of him and take him from his wife where there might’ve been reconciliation. Marriage is a sacred thing. What God joined together, no man and no harlot should put asunder.”

  “Yeah! Yeah!” went the shouting.

  “Now’s the time,” Russ continued. “This town, once pure, as the good reverend preached on, will no longer be defiled. You and your lover – whoever and whatever he is to you – can rot in Hell together.”

  That’s when Matilda gathered the biggest ball of spit in her mouth and shot him with it in the eye. Russ wasn’t taking it lying down. He belted her one right in the face and she stumbled to the ground. Then they all heard the rustling of leaves surrounding them in the dark, dense forest where they’d dragged her out to. She soon spotted Ann standing amid the crowd, watching her as she wiped the drop of blood that had sailed down the corner of her lower lip. Matilda could barely come to grips with her own emotions, although she’d clearly been betrayed by the only one among them she trusted. For now, she knew she had to get up and either face them again or this time, try to escape somehow. Considering she chose the latter, she wasn’t so sure how far her legs would take her, but she was prepared to try.

  “Do you hear that?” Ann advanced forward and looked around at the towering trees - the branches of which seemed to gently sway in the wind. Then the rustling intensified. “I told y’all she’s a witch!” she blurted, as Matilda attempted to rise to her feet. “She’s a doggone, bloody harlot and magician. She’s gonna get all of us killed if we don’t get rid of her first!”

  “You’re wrong!” Matilda spoke up through her weakened voice. She was finally standing again and this time kept her distance from Russ.

  Mutters in the crowd alerted her that Ann had long succeeded in convincing them. “You’re all wrong!” Matilda cried.

  “Shut up, witch!” Alan Strever, a lanky old-timer shouted.

  “Please, listen to me. I’m not what I’m being accused of. I never did anything to hurt anyone. You must let me go!”

  “You’re a damn liar.” Russ stepped closer and glared down into those dark brown eyes of hers. “You pretty much maimed Harry Jenkins who used to work at the Mill. Now, he can barely get by to feed his family.”

  “I had nothing to do with that! I don’t even know who this Harry Jenkins is!”

  Russ belted her in the mouth this time. Although the blow knocked her back a foot or two, she continued standing.

  “Lies! All lies!” he snarled.

  “Enough of this useless chit-chat,” Hank Brown hollered from the back of the crowd. “Let’s string her up on one of these trees out here and leave her for the vultures to feed on.”

  Matilda backed up. “Please… please, don’t do this. I’ve never done anything to any of you.” She looked at Ann. “How could you? We’ve been friends for years, Ann. I’ve watched your children; shared whatever I had with you and your family. We’ve helped each other; haven’t we? Tell them I’m not what they think I am. You know the truth! You know it better than anyone out here. Please…” Her eyes begged for vindication.

  It seemed like years had passed before Ann uttered a single word in response: “Matilda Stephanie Curry, you are a witch of the worst kind. I’ve heard the chants in your house wee hours of the morning. You were conjuring spirits and worshipping the devil. I watched you move things with your mind and tell people things about their own lives you shouldn’t have known. You lit fires in your backyard without lifting a finger. We laughed at it, remember? You worked magic, summoned dark forces into your home and into this community. You deserve to suffer, Matilda. I am not and never have been a friend of a witch!” She then stepped away as the noisy crowd moved in toward the accused a second time.

  “Throw the rope!” Russ said to the teenage boy holding it.

  Matilda backed up and now, with a slightly clearer head and strength she hadn’t been able to muster up just minutes earlier, she took off down the rough path.

  “Get her!” She heard a raspy voice behind her.

  Her scre
ams permeated the air and the pine, maple and birch trees surrounding them, as her feet eagerly took her down the unfriendly terrain. Tears streamed down her face; her heart ached and their angry voices gained momentum with every step she took. Torches burned brightly and she even thought she heard the sporadic clinking of swords. She knew if they ever got their hands on her, she was dead. No measure of pleading would dissuade them from snuffing the life right out of her.

  Struggling to focus her mind since she realized it was the only thing that could help her, she ran ahead, twirling her right hand at the side and imagining all the bushes and tree branches swaying in tropical force-like breeze. She could hear the wind whistling and the cracking of branches, and now envisioned them breaking off from their stems at lightning speed and driving themselves into the bodies of those that relentlessly chased her. She dared not look behind as it would decrease her speed, much to her detriment. She had no idea if what she mentally attempted was working as she had never attempted anything telekinetic with a weakened mind. Her grandmother’s necklace bounced on her neck as she ran ahead into the depths of the woods. Little did she know, the first flying branch had pierced the abdomen of her closest friend – the mother of three – who had turned on her and incited the others. She fell to the ground. One by one, others were hit in various places about the body. One man got a piercing straight to his head, worse than what Stephen suffered at the hand of his boss. Matilda kept running, nearly tripping several times, but was seemingly upheld by some supernatural force – perhaps, the same force from which her unusual ability was derived.