by J. Thorn
Hale stood up straight and set his Bible on the stand. He buttoned his coat and wiped a bead of sweat from his upper lip. The constable kept an eye on several of the parents that lost children just hours ago. He swung the shackles from his left hand while staring into the corners of the meetinghouse.
“Reverend Parris,” Hale said. “I would like to question another.”
Parris nodded, not realizing who Hale wanted to talk to next.
“Bring in the slave.”
Gasps filled the air as several of the constable’s deputies walked Tituba into the room, her hands and ankles bound. A girl on the bench collapsed to the floor while another began barking like a dog. Mary looked at Tituba.
“Sit,” said Hale.
The men dropped Tituba into a chair and stood behind her.
“What say you, Tituba? What of the charges brought before you, the mixing of the black arts?”
Tituba shook her head and stared at the floor.
“Did you compact with the devil? Did you sign his book?”
“Nay. I did not compact with the devil.”
Reverend Parris stepped forward with a flogging stick in his hand and pushed Hale to the side.
“Children are dead, Tituba. Confess now and save your soul.”
Hale noticed that Stoughton leaned in as if hanging on Tituba’s response.
“I did not compact with the Black Man.”
Reverend Parris’ arm came up with such velocity that those in the meetinghouse heard the crack of the rod on her back before they saw it. The Reverend reared back and whipped her four more times before Hale could reach over and touch his forearm. Parris looked into the face of Hale, regained his composure, and dropped his arm to his side. Tituba cried, stifling the pain as she did so many times on the plantation in Barbados.
“Did you sign his book?” Hale asked.
“No,” replied Tituba between heavy breaths.
Hale winced as Parris pushed him aside and struck Tituba five more times on the back. Several of the girls laid on the floor of the room while others sat as if in a trance. Mary Walcott sat to Tituba’s right, her eyes open and unblinking.
“God will help you, Tituba. All you have to do is confess your sins to me and I promise His everlasting salvation. Tell us if you were with Lucifer and if there are others that have signed his book and spare yourself from such pain.”
Tituba looked up at Hale through teary eyes. She smiled with a wide grin of white teeth splitting her dark face. She sneered at Parris before speaking.
“Aye, I signed his book.”
Several women in the back of the meetinghouse wailed while all of the young girls on the bench fainted and fell to the floor except for Mary. Parris and Hale stood motionless, their eyes meeting while Stoughton stepped down from the pulpit and made his way to Tituba.
“Who else? Who else signed his book? Name the murderers of our children, Tituba,” said Parris.
Tituba laughed and Parris raised his hand to beat her again when Hale grabbed him by the elbow.
“God loves you, Tituba. He takes sinners into his heart. You know he will forgive your transgressions.”
“Aye, he does. Save me, Reverend Hale. Don’t let the Black Man take my soul.”
“Who else,” Parris said.
“The devil tell me to take you, Reverend Parris. He say I should go to your chambers in the dead of night and slit your throat like a hog. He say you an evil man and that you’d better serve a congregation in the brimstone of Hell.”
William Stoughton looked at Hale and then at Parris. The blood drained from the Reverend’s face and he dropped the beating rod to the ground.
“That’s right, Mista. He say you have a corrupted soul and that it was you responsible for taking the breath of the children, that you forced his hand.”
“Lies. All lies,” replied Parris.
“Him say you rid of your wives, Parris. Him say you smother them in their sleep. Like you did the children last night.”
“Enough,” said Stoughton. “Constable. Take the slave and the Walcott girl to the jail until the justices arrive and convene the court. The rest of you get on with the mourning and burying of the dead. I will not have the King’s courtroom turned into a travesty of justice.”
Constable Herrick pushed past Hale and Parris, grabbed Tituba and Mary Walcott, and walked them through the back door of the meetinghouse and toward the jail.
***
Tituba sat on one wall while Mary Walcott sat on the other. Constable Herrick brought a piece of moldy bread and rancid water and placed it on the floor next to the women. Mary could not tell whether Tituba slept the past three nights, as she could not see the whites of her eyes in the dark cell. The whispering and sound of hooves outside the jail kept Mary awake. The other justices were coming, some from as far away as Boston. She stole snatches of sleep when she could until the shackles bit into her wrists hard enough to draw blood and wake her up. Tituba did not eat or speak and Mary did not attempt to engage her either until the slave woman finally raised her head and laughed.
“You don’t know, do you?”
“What say you, Tituba?”
“You don’t know. You seen the Black Man. You talk with him but you don’t know if you signed his book.”
“I have not,” replied Mary.
“You can’t lie to Tituba. I know the truth. Aye, he done lie with you but you don’t know if you in covenant with him. Is that right, Mary Walcott?”
Mary closed her eyes and felt the lack of sleep making her head foggy. She nodded.
“Aye. I don’t think I’ve signed his book. Stoughton had the constable search me for the mark.”
“And they found none.”
“They found none.”
“Tis not how he always makes the covenant. The Black Man don’t always need you to sign his book,” said Tituba.
“He wants me to, but I have not. He showed me his face, the Black Man. He is white, more like gray, and his demons consume the excrement of the damned. He does not look like the Devil in the Book.”
“’Cause he be the real evil, Mary. Him be the hidden evil, the son of Satan.”
“You’ve seen him too?” Mary asked.
“Gaki,” replied Tituba.
“What does he want from us? From Salem? Why is he killing our babies?”
“You know,” said Tituba. “You know what he wants. Him want to cleanse the soil for the opening of the Portal, needs a coven to help him rid the land of the righteous. Then he give us da power.”
“I don’t know if I want that.”
“Aye, but he does. He knows of the special blood in your veins, Mary. Gaki recognizes the power within you but he cannot sway your allegiance. You must decide, and should you not sign his book, he shall try to destroy you. This,” Tituba said while looking around the cell with her eyes, “this is meant to control you until you make up your mind.”
“Why would I sign his book and commit to evil? That isn’t a choice.”
“Tis all a choice, young Mary Walcott. Those that sign his book rule over the dark worlds and they live forever.”
Constable Herrick opened the door to the jail, flooding the recessed, darkened pit with natural light and putting an end to the conversation between Mary and Tituba.
***
Abigail gathered the other girls near the edge of the south fields before the evening meal. They came through the trees in roundabout ways in order to hide from the prying eyes of Salem’s adults. She wore her cap tight on her head, her dark, flowing hair contained within the fabric of modesty. Abigail waited for a few more girls to arrive before sitting on a fallen trunk at the tree line.
“We danced. That is all. We are the afflicted and we shall identify those that have made covenant with the Devil. We will not reveal our dancing in the woods around the fire with Tituba.”
“But we did, Abby. We did dance around the fire,” replied Bridget.
Abigail slapped the girl across the face
and then looked at the others as if daring another to speak.
“We did not, Bridget; unless you want to end up like your cousin, chained and waiting to hang for signing his book.”
The girls fell silent and Bridget rubbed her cheek.
“I say again. We danced and that is all we did. Sure, we may be whipped for the dancing but we were not with Tituba and we did not compact with the devil.”
Abigail turned and walked from the circle back toward the village.
***
He watched her leave the group, his eyes focusing on her rear. He had not lain with her, but she would be next. That one carried a raw power that could help intensify and open the Portal. Gaki knew Mary was the key to his success on this plane, but he would not underestimate Abigail’s strength. He made that mistake before and it cost him thousands of years of preparation. Opening the Portal in this time, in this place, would serve him well. Gaki imagined the demons coming through and grazing upon the virgins like hungry bulls. He would partake in the flesh as well as the feces.
The other girls scattered and Gaki felt the appendage between his legs grow. He took a step toward the group and then stopped. Gaki did not like to throttle his desires, but they would have to wait if he was going to gorge on the souls taken when the Portal opened.
The other girls followed Abby back to the village center, leaving Gaki alone in the forest. He turned and motioned to his minions. They slithered from the trees like filthy, upright snakes dancing in the darkness. The gakis gathered around, hissing and waiting for his command. He did not need to communicate verbally but chose to do so in order to break the silence in the woods. Gaki loved the chaos, the maelstrom; he did not care much for tranquility.
“The fear must intensify. The sightings and accusations need to increase so that more will stand trial and eventually hang. The Portal will only open when fed their life energy. We need to quicken the hysteria and rush them to the gallows.”
The beasts purred and moved amongst his feet like cursed cats.
“Partake only of those I signify. I will satiate your desires when the Portal opens. Until then, you are my subordinates.”
The demons bared their tiny teeth and gnashed at the air before scattering throughout the forest that surrounded the village. Gaki waited until the last of them oozed back into the night before turning and looking at the jail. It was time to pay a visit to Mary Walcott.
***
Constable Herrick checked on the women and then locked the door for the night. Once he left, Tituba fell into a fitful sleep punctuated by snores and grunts. Mary wished she could sleep as well, but the iron shackles dug into the flesh on her wrists and the pain kept her awake. She guessed that it wasn’t the first time Tituba had fallen asleep in chains.
“She knows.”
Mary turned toward the door and the voice coming from behind it. The sound made her skin crawl and brought a rolling wave to her empty stomach that threatened to make her retch.
“Go away,” she whispered.
The door opened and the creature’s bluish-gray skin glowed like an obscene moon. She saw his bulbous head and could smell the feces smeared across his face like a profane beard. Gaki’s thin, spindly arms floated at his sides while his distended abdomen jutted out above his waist. He abandoned the black cape and hat, and Mary believed it was because his true nature had already been revealed to her cell mate.
“I need you, Mary Walcott.”
“You need nothing but sorrow.”
“The Portal, the devae: they need you.”
Mary looked again at Tituba, sound asleep on the other side of the cell. The slave woman expelled gas and Gaki sauntered over to draw an exaggerated breath.
“I’m going to hang.”
Gaki smiled, inhaling the stench in the cell. He waved a long finger in front of his face as a wicked smile spread to the corners of his mouth.
“I will not let you hang before the Portal opens. Others, however. Yes, others must die.”
“You want me to sell my soul and I cannot. I will not partake of your grotesque plans.”
“Then maybe Bridget will. Surely after all of the stories you’ve told her about the red devils she has learned something of the black arts. Yes, I believe the noose will fit her slender neck.”
“You leave her be,” Mary said. “She is but a child.”
“As are you, Mary Walcott. We are all children on this plane.”
Mary shuddered as Gaki stepped closer. His breath smelled of rotting disease, moldy corn husks, and pallid death.
“I need you to help bring more people to the gallows, to help open the Portal. You don’t need to do much, my lady. The Chief Justice accepts spectral evidence in The Court of Oyer and Terminer.”
“So?”
“So give it. Accuse others of using their spirits to torture you.”
“Can you not see that I am shackled to the wall, charged with the very crime you want me to perpetrate on others?”
“A confession will save you,” replied Gaki. “Hale shall persuade Reverend Parris to set you free, and you will testify of the spectral attacks that shall put others in the noose.”
“Why? Why would I do that if you’re going to ravage the lands anyways?”
“I’ll show you.”
Mary blinked and the next moment she stood on a vast open plain. Night fell and the first stars appeared on the eastern horizon. The moon hung low and she spun to see Gaki standing next to her.
“This is what the opening of the Portal will look like.”
Mary nodded and rubbed her wrists, which were now free of shackles and raw skin.
“Tis vacant, that is all.”
“Ah,” replied Gaki. He chuckled beneath his breath. “This is vacant, my dear. This is the plane after the Fall. This,” he said spreading his arms, “this is what it is like when the Portal opens.”
She felt a brisk wind blow and it brought screams of death. Mary could not make out individual words or phrases, but she felt the finality in the guttural, base sounds. She heard the death throes of thousands of people. Before she could cover her ears, Gaki waved an arm and a scene appeared on the blank canvas of the desert. Thousands of gakis chased humans. They looked and dressed differently than Mary, some with fancy spectacles, sparkling jewels and riding in horseless carriages while others held objects to the side of their heads. Mary watched as structures rose from the sand and poked into the night sky with bright, flameless lanterns turning night into day. She stood in the middle of the chaos as the gakis jumped upon the people in the vision, tearing flesh from their backs. Others captured and pinned women to the ground where the creatures did ungodly acts before disemboweling them. Mary put her hands to her head but she could not keep the sounds out. Men, women, and children screamed and ran in all directions while gakis wrestled them to the ground. She looked at Gaki and he smiled, nodding his head back and forth.
“Another plane of existence, for certain. But you can see the fate of those not enthralled to me.”
“Take me back.”
Gaki chuckled again and looked upon the scene as more demons flooded the artificial, black stone in hopes of tearing more humans into ragged pieces.
“Yes, let’s return,” he said.
Mary sighed and closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were back in the cell along with a sleeping Tituba.
“Is that the fate you desire? Is that the end you’ll accept?”
She shook and a tear trailed down the left side of her face.
“I cannot decide now.”
“I will return tomorrow night to speak again. In the meantime, the Black Man needs to find a few more souls to sign his book. I believe Captain Jonathan Walcott and his wife would benefit from an association with him and his red devils. Don’t you agree?”
Gaki turned and left Mary shackled to the wall, bound by chains and the fear of the demon’s most heinous intentions.
***
She awoke to the shouts and cries from o
utside the jail. Tituba was staring at her with a wide, open mouth. Mary hissed and felt the pain in her neck flare, making it hard to raise her head.
“He was in here last night, wasn’t he?”
“Yes,” Mary said. She tried to hear the source of the disturbance outside.
“He want you to sign his book, does he not?”
“Aye, he does.”
“Ha! Are you gonna be the Black Man’s, Mary Walcott? Are you gonna wear the mark?”
“What is happening?” Mary asked.
“Hangings,” replied Tituba.
***
The town gathered at the top of Gallows Hill for an unusual morning hanging. Stoughton issued the death sentence to three citizens of Salem and Constable Herrick marched them to the steps. The judges stood nearby, dressed completely in black with stoic faces and hardened eyes. The townspeople shouted and jeered, some yelling insults while others whispered prayers. Rebecca Nurse, Susannah Martin, and Elizabeth Howe walked toward the platform, each scanning the crowd for their loved ones. Reverend Hale said a prayer and made the sign of the cross before getting on his horse and riding back into town. Samuel Parris nodded to Herrick as his deputies placed the nooses around the necks of the three women. The crowd hushed as the Reverend spoke.
“The King’s Majesty’s court has found you guilty of witchcraft and sentenced you to hang. What say you, Rebecca Nurse, Susannah Martin, Elizabeth Howe?”
The women stood silently while the people waited. When several moments passed, Rebecca Nurse spoke up.
“Our father, who art in Heaven. Hallowed be thy name.”
Susannah and Elizabeth joined her as the deputies tightened the noose around their throats.
“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done. On Earth as it is in heaven.”
Stoughton nodded and one by one, the deputies pushed the women off the platform until they dangled eight feet above the ground. The crowd bellowed, the sounds drowning out the Lord’s Prayer and those citing it in their final moments. Reverend Hale, still within earshot of the gallows, stopped when he heard the commotion. He looked at the women’s feet gyrating as their bodies twitched for several more moments before becoming still.
“May God have mercy on their souls,” said Reverend Parris. He rubbed his eyes and struggled to silence his own internal doubts.
