“This isn't good,” Galen said nervously, glancing around over his shoulder at everyone else present at the gathering. “Where the hell is that crazy bastard?”
“Will you calm down?” Sasha muttered to him, but she couldn't help but wonder the same thing. It seemed unlikely that Julian had butchered all of the higher-ups in the order who had condemned him for years and then left. He wasn't the type to cause random chaos. He would want to pick up the pieces, and after acquiring the spear and seemingly coming back from the grave, he was in a perfect position to take charge of what was left. “I'm sure he'll be here. He didn't kill them for no reason. Julian's hardly the type to pass up an opportunity to advance his position.”
“So, let's get out of here now, while we still have a chance. Before Julian shows up and they slit all of our throats.”
There were footsteps on the main floor and the entire room fell silent.
Julian Corvus stepped up and sat in one of the inner circle's seats, occupied by a far older man just that morning. He sat alone in the row of chairs meant for the inner circle—a circle that had shrunk down to just one man. Julian sat in silence for a long while and no one dared speak. He shifted in his chair uncomfortably like he was trying to find the proper words to say.
Finally, he addressed everyone in attendance like a world leader grieving for a loss within his country. He was somber and grave when he spoke, far from the confident hero who returned that morning with the Spear of Destiny in hand.
“I regret to inform you all that there is going to be a monumental shift within this order. After a long, emotional conversation about the role the Order of the Black Sun will have in the world going forward, our leadership has decided it best to step down from their esteemed positions within our society. It was not an easy decision to make, I'm sure, but they did say that they felt it was best for a new vision for the order ... a vision that they could not provide. As such, they have decided to offer me the position of leadership.”
Sasha couldn't believe anyone was buying his story. Why would their leaders just abandon them? Or at least not address them themselves? And to give it to someone as infamous and dangerous as the leader of the Eclipsed? They would never do that. Surely, the others would realize that; but they didn't.
Rather, there were murmurs and nods from the assembled members of the Black Sun, like Julian was making so much sense. That was his way, Sasha knew that. She had spent enough time working under Julian to fully understand the charisma he had over people. When his temper was in check, he could convince anyone to do just about anything; sway even the most loyal of people to completely turn on all of their beliefs; rob them of any codes they lived by.
They were all falling prey to Julian's manipulation, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
“I ... have humbly accepted the responsibility that they have placed on my shoulders. I have sworn to uphold the traditions and doctrines that the Order of the Black Sun has operated on ... but we will not only uphold them ... no, we will improve them. We will build on them. We will adapt to a changing world, and fix the mistakes made in the past.”
Their constituents were starting to clap now, bringing a triumphant smile to Julian's face. They were enamored with his presentation. They didn't care about the specifics of what happened to the old men, and the ones who suspected the truth didn't mind that there had been a change in leadership. Some even believed that true leaders fought their way to the top to earn their place. Even in the Order of the Black, some people respected violence far more than negotiation.
And Julian Corvus was winning their hearts and minds.
After Julian's meeting—which it turned out was really his coronation—Sasha waited as the crowd of Black Sun members dispersed. Julian still sat in the only occupied seat of the missing inner circle at the center of the room. When everyone was gone and clear, Julian got up from his seat and looked at her curiously. Sasha just shook her head in disapproval.
“You killed them.”
Julian walked past her, and she joined him as they walked out into the hallway. Luckily, there was no one within earshot to overhear their conversation.
“They were old, decrepit men, and men like them ... they often take forever to make up their minds.” He didn't try to deny it. In fact, he sounded proud of what he'd done. “You knew just as well as I how useless they had become, stuck in their own tired ways. They were ancient and senile. Things got cluttered in the cobwebs in their heads. They would never have made the right choice, and would have taken forever to do so. I simply accelerated the decision-making process.”
“You took away any decision at all.”
“No,” Julian said. “I just made sure the right one was made. I'm surprised you would stand up for them, Sasha. They treated us and the Eclipsed like we were nothing more than vermin, tasked with rifling through the rubbish. Getting our hands dirty when they wouldn't. We were gutter trash to them, remember?”
“I'm not defending them,” Sasha said. “Things have just never been done this way before.”
“Welcome to the new age then. Many things are going to be done differently from now on. You're free to voice your disapproval or any opinions you have. I'm more than willing to listen to any thoughts you have.”
Sasha thought back to that boardroom full of corpses, the long conference table stained in blood. She saw firsthand what happened to anyone that disagreed with Julian's vision, and she didn't plan on joining those bodies. She would keep her mouth shut from now on, and she would wait and see how things turned out.
She would find a way to adapt, like she always had, no matter how much Julian warped the order she called home.
“Nothing further to add?” Julian asked threateningly.
Sasha shook her head, resigned to the unfortunate new circumstances.
“Wonderful,” Julian said, turning away from her. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have a personal errand to attend to. I will return soon enough, and we can begin the first phase of the rebuilding process.”
He walked down the hall and out the doors, out of sight.
There was a noise behind her, and Galen limped around the corner, having been clearly eavesdropping on the conversation. He looked past her nervously, making sure Julian wasn't coming back before grumbling and swearing under his breath.
“Personal errand, aye? The hell is he going?”
“No idea,” Sasha said honestly. “I doubt he's taking a trip to the market for groceries.”
Galen gave the floor a few loud, frustrated, raps of his cane. “That arrogant bastard isn't even trying to deny what he did. He threw himself a coup and now he's just reaping the rewards unchallenged.”
“And you're implying that we should be the ones to challenge him”
“Someone has to ... and you know Julian better than most.”
“Oh, so you're implying that I should be the one to challenge him. Not us, together.”
“Me? Of course not. Ye said it yourself. I'm new and have no sway in the Black Sun. I'd be useless if I went against him openly. But I'd back ye, from behind the scenes, I can promise ye that.”
“Thanks,” Nina said, rolling her eyes. “You'll be so helpful from your hiding spot. I'm not going to challenge him. No matter how terrible he is. I'm not suicidal. Maybe he'll make good on all of these promises he's been talking about. Make things better for the Black Sun.”
“You worked under him before. You really believe that?”
Sasha had seen Julian's leadership of the Eclipsed. She'd followed him in all of his twisted machinations. He wouldn't miraculously change who he was now that he was in command of the entirety of the Order of the Black Sun.
Did she really believe Julian Corvus would lead them to a better future?
She knew the answer to Galen's question.
“No.”
7
THE WITCH TOWN
Their jet landed at Logan Airport in Boston. Purdue wasn't overly fond of the port city, despite
its integral role in some of the most important events in the history of the United States. The roads, in particular, were a discombobulated mess that were almost impossible to navigate. He was thankful that they were only passing through Boston to take a ferry across the bay to Salem. They hurried to the docks where the ferries were waiting. It was the morning of Halloween, so thousands of people were lined up to head over to Salem, wanting to celebrate the holiday in one of the spookiest places in the country.
Purdue didn't really grow up participating in Halloween. It wasn't nearly as big of an event in Scotland as it was across the pond in the United States. Still, he couldn't help but feel how fitting it was that he was searching for a witch's book on Halloween.
It was a long wait for the ferry, but after a few hours, they managed to get aboard and started the relatively short cruise to Salem. While on the ferry, an older woman dressed as a zombie pirate told the passengers local ghost stories about Salem. She was clearly relishing her Halloween, and her stories helped pass the time and keep people from feeling too cramped by the amount of others on board the ship.
Purdue listened intently to her tale about a particular lighthouse they were passing. How some nights you could see the old tower light up, despite no one working there anymore. According to her, it was a ghost of some Salem resident who failed to light it one night, causing an old ship to crash near the shore.
It was all probably entertaining nonsense, but the sense of ghostly creepiness was palpable. It was like the closer they got to Salem, the more unnerving the world felt. No wonder people went there to feel afraid.
Finally, the old town came into view and felt so far away from the bustling streets of Boston.
Salem had made the most of his history with witches. What could have been a dreary, tragic town where unwarranted violence had taken place was a thriving tourist attraction, especially during autumn. People flooded the streets, reveling in the fun of witchcraft and ghoulish behavior. Visitors dressed up, went on ghostly tours, and enjoyed the coming of Halloween.
The depiction of witches was an interesting one. On the one hand, they had a real bleak, horrible history thanks to the witch trials that occurred there in real life. On the other hand, they had embraced the stereotypes of green-skinned, wart-nosed, cackling, broomstick riding witches. It was a strange meld of reality and fiction, of history and old wives’ tales. It was surprising more people weren't offended by people wearing enormous witch hats while visiting the graves of women who had been murdered for being falsely accused of witchcraft. It was a strange dichotomy that Purdue immediately noticed.
The Salem Witch Trials were represented in a number of museums and historical sites but remembering those events didn't bring down the mood. It simply heightened the spooky atmosphere of the entire town.
Like New Orleans, it was also home to a number of supposed witches and psychics. Many were frauds and entertainers, but there were apparently a number of legitimate practicing witches, at least according to Jean.
Purdue and Jean pushed through the crowds as they walked down the cobbled streets. It was only days before Halloween. Purdue hadn't really taken that into account; Halloween wasn't as big of a celebration across the pond. Here in the states, these Americans seemed to live and breathe the idea of dressing up and begging for candy. Adults and kids alike participated. Salem was a hub for the festivities. It was practically oozing with the spirit of the holiday.
Naturally, Salem was the busiest it ever was in the days leading up to it. Tens of thousands of people poured in to celebrate. They were surrounded by faces covered in paint or wearing masks. Street performers walked around as all manner of horror characters. The silent Michael Myers. A hissing Count Dracula. Lumbering Frankenstein. The crowds couldn't get enough.
It was hard to even see the signs for the storefronts through the walls of people in the way. It was a miracle anyone could find their way anywhere with so many people occupying such a relatively small space.
A trolley moved through Salem, providing visitors with historic rides and dropping them off at various locations to explore. Purdue and Jean bought tickets for one, just to be able to maneuver about more easily. They sat there, looking out the window at the place around them, and Purdue tried to imagine the carnage that had happened only centuries before.
A town plagued by paranoia and fear. Accusing and punishing innocent people for something there was no record that they actually did. Neighbors turning in neighbors. People pointing out others just to avoid being pointed out themselves. It must have been chaos. A whole community tearing itself apart over fear of the idea of witches among them.
While the historical Salem witches may have been innocent and ordinary, the town had since drawn real practicing witches to it. It was ironic in a way. A place that had been so against witches had now become a central hub for the word itself. Leave it the Americans to transform a horror from their past into something profitable.
They passed an image of a large, monstrous, green-skinned witch and Purdue couldn't help but think what the victims of the trials would think about all of it. That surely wasn't how they had looked when they were called witches, but they had been killed anyway.
Again, that disturbing melding of reality and horror stories crept up Purdue's spine.
Finally, they found Felicity Perry's house.
The house they were looking for was on a side street, away from a lot of the more touristy areas of Salem where all of the tourists were flocking wildly. It was an older colonial home with pleasant peach siding, a bright periwinkle door, and matching window frames. It was far from what Purdue would imagine a witch's home to look like, or maybe he was just being affected by all of the contradicting witch things happening around him in Salem.
Before they walked up to the house, Jean stayed behind on the sidewalk. “Perhaps I should just wait out here, no? Remember she doesn't like me much.”
“Nonsense,” Purdue said with a laugh. “She just doesn't know you. I'll need that Haitian charm of yours to help me. A Scot like me can't do it on my own.”
Jean hesitated, scratching his bald head nervously. After a little bit of consideration, he stepped toward her house. “Alright, alright. But I warned you. If she throws something at me, that is on you.”
Purdue smiled, and together, the pair walked up to the old house.
The sign on the front door said “FELICITY PERRY. WATCH OUT FOR MY FLYING MONKEYS.” It was tacky and looked like most houses of supposed witches in Salem, but if Jean was right, then she was far more credible than she presented herself as. Purdue rapped on the door and they could hear movement inside. After a few seconds the door swung open and a blonde woman stood in front of them in the doorway.
She looked at Purdue with some confusion, but her expression shifted when she saw Jean.
“Well, if isn't Jean-Luc Gerard. Finally changed your mind then? Going to stop playing hard to get?”
“No,” Jean said simply. “I am not going to give up my page to you. But maybe you'll give up yours.”
“Hilarious. You came all the way north just to say that to me? Waste of a trip, if you ask me. And who is this? You bring someone to rough me up until I give you the pages?”
Purdue held out his hand. “David Purdue. It was actually my idea to bring Jean. We're not here to take the pages by force. We just want to talk. About the pages. About Mona Greer. Just talk.”
“David Purdue?” She looked at him and he could see the recognition dawning on her face. “You're that rich guy. The one who wanders all over the world looking for things you don't need.”
“Harsh, but accurate,” Purdue said and turned to Jean. “See? She knows who I am.”
“Shouldn't you be off like brushing off mummies in Egypt? This all seems a bit too small for you, I would think.”
“Some of the best prizes are found in the most unassuming of places. And I would hardly call this place small. At least this time of year.”
“Yes, it's all a bit
much, isn't it? Great for business, though. College kids wanting to see a real séance ritual. Learn something about real magic. Hear their fortunes. So, you sold out to him then, Gerard? He offer you something better than I did?”
“He did, yes,” Jean said with an awkward smile. “But I didn't sell out. My page still belongs to me.”
“Congratulations,” Felicity said. “You've just been relegated to a bystander then. Riding the coattails of a more successful man.”
“There's no need for such hostility,” Purdue interjected. “Perhaps we could go inside and talk about this. It's hard to make any sort of proposal from a stoop, wouldn't you say?”
Felicity ignored him and seemed to turn herself into even more of a wall in the doorway. “I've been looking for the pages to Mona Greer's book of shadows for years. Why would I ever even entertain the idea of giving those away? That would be a waste of all that time and effort. Not to mention, my own money. Not all of us are billionaires like you. Some of us have to actually try.”
“Because without us, you'll never have the book of shadows completed, and all of those years you were talking about would have been a complete and depressing waste of your time and money.” When Purdue spoke, he made it all sound so pleasant, just to emphasize how undesirable that outcome was.
Felicity gave him a hard stare, but he could see that his point had been made. She slowly stepped out of the way and held out her hand signaling for them to enter.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Purdue said with some snark, walking past her.
The interior was just as unassuming as the exterior had been. It looked like any other suburban home. Not even a dream catcher on the counter top. Nothing. Purdue felt slightly disappointed, but Jean didn't seem to notice the discrepancy of witch's living normally. The more Purdue thought about, the happier he was that he didn't mention it. He would just make how obvious he was about real witches even more apparent.
Order of the Black Sun Box Set 9 Page 43
