by Mark Taylor
Mary looked at him and doubted him a threat. “No. Thank you.” She turned away, and then turned back to him quickly. “Actually…I’m looking for someone, a child.”
He returned his look to her, this time through slits of eyes. “Who?”
Mary thought quickly. “My niece, she ran away a couple of months ago,” she lied, “we’re all terribly worried.”
The tramp looked to his colleague of the embers, the two of them muttered to each other briefly. “Try a couple down.” He nodded away from the shelter. “Seen a kid down there sometimes.”
Mary smiled. “Thank you again.” She turned away and picked her way back down the alley the way she had come.
At the end, turning further down the block, she reached the alley before Fifth and looked down into the darkness. At least two small bonfires blazed in the night and she could see numerous people. She started down.
Before she had been shrouded by shadows for no more than ten feet, an old woman came up to her, her hands outstretched. “Any change lady?”
Mary shook her head and continued.
The old woman cackled after her, “Lost are you?”
Mary continued, searching the floor for a small body, one of a long lost child. She passed a fire enclosed by bodies seeking warmth, but not one of them a suitable stature. Between there and the second fire, she spied a small body half lying on the concrete, half leant against the wall, gently coughing. She approached and scooted down next to it.
Mary ran her hand over the child’s forehead. It was cold and clammy. “Hey,” she said, “are you all right?”
The child pulled away slightly and looked up. It was a small girl. “What do you want?” She looked to be a little less than ten years old.
“Is your mom around?”
“Yeah,” she snorted lightly under her breath, “that’s why I’m sleeping here.”
“Honey,” Mary spoke quietly, and with as much compassion as she could muster, “you’re not well. You need to get out of here.”
The little girl looked at her with the eyes of an adult. “How?”
“What’s your name?” Mary asked.
“Juney.”
“Listen, Juney, I only live a few blocks away, why don’t you come with me and see if we can get you in to see a doctor?”
Juney shook her head violently.
“Why not?”
The little girl nearly broke into a smile. “I’m not supposed to go with strangers.”
Mary saw the funny side and giggled lightly. “Hey, it’s got to be safer than this…no?”
***
Mary sat in her recliner holding the photograph of Juney Dillinger—the photograph she’d taken, which she said she had needed to help her. Juney was asleep on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, and wearing the clothes Mary had in her closet that just seemed to…magically…fit.
She had bathed and eaten, and hadn’t even needed any encouragement to sleep. She was out for the night for sure.
Mary quietly picked up her coat and left the building, jumped into her car and headed out of the city, past where the streetlights ended, past where the houses ended, to what seemed like the middle of nowhere. To most people it was the middle of nowhere, to Mary, it was The Crossroads.
She pulled her car off the road and killed the lights, and got out holding the photo of Juney.
C’mon, where are you? You’re always here somewhere.
“Hello, Marie-Anne.”
Mary spun around to face the voice. There he was. This time, his skin was black and his suit blacker, so black in fact that he almost faded into the night. For all she knew he had been standing there the whole time and she just hadn’t seen him.
“I want to deal,” she said.
“Again?” His voice was a deep southern drawl. “Come now, Marie-Anne, four times in one lifetime?” He laughed. “That’s got to be a record.”
“You’ve always been paid,” she retorted.
“True.” He smiled, showing his fiercely white teeth. “And this time?”
“Of course,” she replied.
“Well, I suppose I should cut to the chase—I am a busy man. What do you want?”
“I need to raise a coven.”
“Why?”
“Is that your business?”
The Devil frowned. “Listen, Missy. It’s my business if I say it’s my business. ‘Sides, you clearly can’t do it without me or you wouldn’t be here now, would you?” He continued, “So, what are you up to? Don’t make me ask again.”
Mary hated him so much. “I need to do something that is beyond my wisdom. I need others like me to do it…maybe two, or three.”
“…and what is it that you can’t do?”
Mary started to grind her teeth. “I wish to raise those passed.”
The Devil raised his eyebrows. “Now that, I wasn’t expecting. You’re not trying to take away what’s rightfully mine now, are you?”
Mary shook her head, “No, they were good folk. I’m just trying to put right a long forgotten mistake.”
“You sure that these here folk gonna appreciate being dragged down here again?” He looked up into the night sky. “I hear it’s mighty fine up there…for you types, I mean.”
“They won’t be together up there though, will they? I can bring them back together down here…if only for a few years.”
The Devil looked down into the dirt, “Died that far apart, huh?” He looked up at Mary. “Well, I’m not one to turn down the wishes of a lady. Tell me about my payment.”
Mary handed him the photo. “Her name is Juney Dillinger.”
The Devil took the picture and examined it. “A fine frame of a child, if I’m not mistaken. She looks…well, pure, if that’s for me to say…may I ask, why she has been chosen by you as payment for this deal?”
“She would suffer hardship without it.”
He nodded. “And what, pray, do you wish for her?”
Mary looked to the floor; she hadn’t truly thought it through. “I want her to have a good life, a family, a caring husband, children, and all those things that go with it.”
“Not much then?” He laughed. “Well shit, Missy, you know that I can deliver…and what was it now that you wanted, a coven? I reckon I can deliver that too. Would say, three be enough to suffice? I could offer four…or maybe a hundred, but I’m guessing you’d run out of bedding before then.” He laughed sarcastically.
“Three would be fine.”
“Then I think we have ourselves a deal.” He placed his hand out to be shaken.
Mary took it, shook it, and let go. “How will I receive my part?”
“Oh, you’ll see.” The Devil turned away, paused and turned back. “You know, Missy, if you ever wanted to try something new, maybe be at my side, it’s easily done.”
Mary looked at him, he was renowned for trying to gather witches’ souls, and shook her head. She smiled, “Maybe next time.”
As he walked into the darkness his silhouette seemed to disperse into the night…and he was gone.
Mary rubbed her hands together in the cold. Her plan was starting to take shape—so now, it wouldn’t be long. She walked back over to the car, got in, and turned the radio on.
Stupid midnight lay backs.
Mary turned the car through a u-turn and headed back towards the city. She wasn’t happy with what she’d had to do, but she saw no other way out. Juney would be blessed with a happiness she would not have seen, she herself would be blessed with a coven, and he would get what he wanted.
As she headed back into Wichita the lights high above the street began to re-appear and illuminate the roads again. By now it was too late for them to be flooded with people, and she cruised along without many distractions.
Pulling up just down the street from her apartment, she left the car and returned to her building. She was tired…and full of anger.
Why do I have to do this? Why can’t I do what I want? Why isn’t it easy?
She cli
mbed the stairs and opened her front door. The first thing she saw was an empty couch. Juney was gone.
“Juney?” She called out loud enough to alert the child, but not loud enough to awaken her if she had slipped into the bedroom and snuggled into Mary’s bed. She looked briefly around the apartment…she was gone. She must have let herself out whilst Mary was at The Crossroads. It didn’t really matter. He would have his work done by morning, and she would be protected. Depending on how he did his contract, she would receive her request—in whatever form it was to come—in the next few hours. All she needed to do was wait.
III
Mary sat in the apartment with the only light coming from the TV. Although the darkness was eerie, it comforted her in only the way that eerie could. It was 4 a.m. when the phone rang.
“Hello?” Mary answered.
“Is this Marie-Anne?” The voice coming from the other end was that of a woman.
“It is, but please call me Mary, Mary Anson.”
“My name is Dina. I have received an invitation to meet with you from a mutual acquaintance and have brought two of my friends with me. I was instructed that was enough. Am I correct?”
Mary smiled slightly. “It is. Would you like my address? I’m keen to begin.”
“No,” the woman answered firmly, “we should meet somewhere more…” she paused, “…neutral…and quiet. You are in Wichita?”
“I am.”
“Do you know Old Benton Cemetery? It’s near the airstrip.”
“Yes,” Mary nodded to herself, “it’s just out east of the city.”
“Meet us there at six.” The phone went dead.
That’s it—a whole coven coming right to my door. It couldn’t be more perfect, I just hope that they are—well, we are—powerful enough.
Mary looked at the clock, she had plenty of time.
***
As Mary turned onto the 254 the clock in the car blinked 05:32. She was early, fine; she was eager, sure, but Hell, there were three of them coming and it was probably best not to keep them waiting.
The morning light was just starting to slide across the horizon when Mary turned right into the parking lot of the cemetery. Her car rolled under the old wooden sign of the place, and it bumped and dragged across the dirt, kicking up dust as it went. There was already a car parked…waiting.
As Mary pulled her car up beside the other, its front passenger door opened and a woman got out. Mary looked at her through the window of her car. She was older than Mary but pretty, in fact, similar in appearance to Mary herself.
That must be them.
Getting out of the car, Mary smiled an acknowledgement to the woman. She was dressed in a black business suit, with black lipstick and eye liner and black hair. She was maybe forty and stood like she was waiting to greet the Company Chairman before a ground-breaking business meeting. Mary nodded recognition to the woman, closed the door and walked over.
“Dina?” she asked.
Dina bowed her head. “Good morning, Mary. We are pleased to meet with you. I am sorry that we should have to meet here, but we have been told you wish to grace the world with those once passed. It is only fitting that we prove our worth to each other before commitments are made.”
“Fine,” Mary smiled at her again, “your…friends…” Two others sat in the car—one in the driver’s seat and the other in the back. Although the windows of the car were tinted slightly and the day hadn’t yet fully broken, Mary could see they were dressed differently to Dina. “They look a little…” Mary thought for the right words, “…dressed…conspicuously.”
Dina looked down at herself, then back up to Mary. “Whatever do you mean?”
Mary looked through the window at them again, they were dressed too obviously. Surely people would recognize them as the cunning. She glanced around to check that they were alone. “They’re dressed as witches,” she whispered.
Dina frowned. “Oh my. I would ask what happened to you, but I fear that may take too long. Are you a recluse?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Plenty of people dress like that these days; some call it goth, but they generally do not stand out in a crowd. Girls?” she called.
The two of them exited the car and stood next to their respective doors. The driver was dressed in black lace with a black wrap—matching her black hair—and was reminiscent of witches of old, and the other was wearing a long black leather coat, leather pants, and knee high leather boots.
“This,” Dina gestured to the driver, “is Excalibur,” she glanced back to Mary briefly, “and this,” her gesture moved to the woman at the rear of the car, “is Lady.”
Mary looked to the two of them in turn. “Hello,” she smiled. Both returned with a silent nod. “So,” Mary continued, keen to move forward, “why here?”
Dina looked at her stonily, but without even a hint of menace. “Before we even find out what it is you require, we need to know that you can fill the fourth place. All we know is that you wish to raise the dead—and right now, that is enough—but we need to establish that we can do it together.”
“You’ve never done it before?” Mary was confused, she was sure that He would send the right people…those that knew how to do it…and had done it before.
“We have done it before, but not with you.” Dina replied, “We usually have a fourth that is…not you. We need to know if you can fill that void, before we do the bidding of the Devil.”
Mary stepped forward. “It’s not his bidding,” she replied, “it is mine.”
Dina frowned slightly, “We are here as a favor to the Devil, and do not you forget it. It is Lady’s favor that we return to him, and without that, you would be alone.”
Mary faltered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” she paused, “How shall we begin?”
Dina looked to the graveyard. “We need to find the site of a child.” She strode in amongst the headstones followed by Excalibur and Lady, leaving Mary to follow at will.
As Mary struggled to keep up she called, “Why a child?” but the three of them ignored her and continued moving.
Dina went forward, Excalibur to the left and Lady to the right. They broke away from each other, searching the headstones. Mary stopped and watched. The three of them moving, hunched, between graves and skirting around monuments, as the early morning light pushed new shadows over the grass, was quite a sight for her. It had been so long since she had been in the presence of the folk. It caused a slow and strong smile to crawl across her face; she no longer felt quite so alone.
“Here,” for the first time, Excalibur spoke. She was curled over a stone to the far left of the group, her hand sliding slowly down the front of it, caressing the words carved into it. “Peter Phillip Johnson—he was two.”
Immediately Dina and Lady straightened and started towards her, and Mary followed behind.
Unlike the others, Lady had blond hair, and Mary watched her as she strode across the grass, her coat flapping behind her. She wore the face of someone burdened.
As Dina and Lady reached the headstone, Mary stopped just short and watched them. She saw them for the first time as witches—she saw what she had never become. They were those things that Will had written about centuries ago, those heathen foul that stood over the cauldron. Of course, they didn’t circle the stone, hunched over and cursing the rebirth of the new born Prince, but rather they seemed to take enjoyment from the find. Both Dina and Excalibur had started to chuckle and become engrossed in the look of the stone, perhaps reassured by it, and that this was their destiny.
Dina stopped and hushed the other two. “We have one,” she said, “we will begin.”
Mary finally walked over and joined them, “How do we start?” she asked.
As the four of them surrounded the grave, Dina looked at Mary. “I know that you have no experience of this, so I shall ask only that you follow our lead. We shall begin the incantation of resurrection, but we will need your participation to reach the required level. Follow the words o
f Excalibur.”
Mary nodded. “What language do you use?”
Dina looked surprised. “What language do you use?”
“Latin.”
The three of them became one with laughter, but Mary wasn’t part of the joke. “When,” Excalibur asked, “did you last work with one of us?”
Mary looked at her. Her black lace top didn’t cover the variety of tattoos emblazoned upon her arms. “It was before the Salem trials. Why?”
Excalibur stopped laughing and turned to Dina, her faced screwed into a ball. “Did you hear what she just said? She’s useless—she’ll never be able to take the place of Robin.” She stood as though she was at a lectern, giving a speech on the merits of loyalty and friendship. “We’re wasting our time here—and Lady’s—this isn’t going to work.”
Dina smiled calmly as she listened. “Do not worry, child.” She glanced to Mary before returning her gaze to Excalibur. “I am sure that everything will work as it should. Besides, if what we try here fails then there are always other ways.”
Other ways…other ways to do what? Mary didn’t understand, but was pleased that Dina seemed to be on her side.
“Mary,” Dina began, “we are ready.” She looked to Lady and a now silent Excalibur who nodded, “Take your place by my side and we will begin. Remember,” she continued, “follow the lead of Excalibur.”
Mary took her place in the coven surrounding the grave.
“As God did rise, his enemies scattered by those not dead nor living now,” Dina dropped her head as she spoke, “spirits of the darkness I seek. Bring forth the hand of the chosen few, bring me the one that I desire. Bring me the child that once was lost.”
Lady and Excalibur began chanting quietly, “God and Hades hand the child…”
Mary joined in, following, as she had been instructed.
Dina continued, “Finding life over the air and land, seeking life through the fire at my hand, I demand this child to bear, through the fire, ice and hate of man.”
Mary glanced up. The sun that had been creeping over the horizon was now lost beneath a sea of clouds that had come from nowhere and had started rolling across the sky. Clouds so black, they didn’t befit the morning rise. She had never seen anything like it before, but she continued to chant.
