Suffer a Witch

by Claudia Hall Christian

“Be gone from this room!” Isaac said. His words echoed through the store. “This is a human dwelling, not made for the likes of you. You are not welcome here!”

  “Go!” Asher yelled in support of his father.

  Alice’s gentleman got to his feet. Em could see only the back of his brown suit. He turned to look at the door. Em saw panic on his face. Horrified by the entranced people and the demon, the man was ready to bolt. He reached his hand out to push Alice behind him.

  “Be gone!” Alice said.

  The demon crouched, making ready to spring onto Alice.

  “No!” Em said to Alice. “This is my battle.”

  Em stepped away from the wall and walked to the middle of the aisle.

  “It’s my fight,” Em said.

  “Em!” Alice yelled with fear. “You can’t . . .”

  “Stay there,” Em said. “Protect the humans.”

  Em glanced at her before turning her full attention to the demon. Alice’s gentleman stepped in front of Alice to shield her from the demon.

  “Enough!” Em said.

  Her hands came together in a sharp clap. Bridget, George, and Sarah Wildes awoke from their trance. The demon turned its red eyes to Em.

  “You are not welcome here,” Em said.

  “Em!” George yelled. He tried to get to her, but Em tossed an invisible wall around him and the witches. He banged his fists against it. As he had on the gallows, George began reciting the Lord’s Prayer in his preacher’s voice. From behind the protective wall, the others joined him.

  “Our Father, which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name . . .,” George, Sarah Wildes, and Bridget said .

  The demon hissed at Em.

  “You will leave this place,” Em said.

  “ . . .thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven . . .” the witches said.

  To the demon’s dismay, his legs began to fade from under him.

  “I built this building from the ground up,” Em said.

  “ . . .Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses . . .”

  “This is my building, my store, my home. You are not welcome here. It is protected from the likes of you. You will leave.”

  Em reached the palm of her left hand up to the heavens to pull down the power of the angels.

  “ . . .as we forgive those who trespass against us . . .”

  She pushed the palm of her right hand out in front of her. She looked up to see a sparkling figure eight shining above her head.

  “ . . .Lead us not into temptation . . .”

  “Be gone!” Em said.

  “ . . .but deliver us from evil!”

  The demon sprang into the air to attack her. She pointed the palm of her right hand at him. There was a flash, like a firecracker, and the room fell into pitch-black silence. Sarah Wildes and Bridget screamed in horror. The smell of smoke rose from the front of the room.

  “Light returneth,” Em said.

  The gloom vanished. The room lights flickered and came on. The room was absolutely still. The demon had vanished, leaving only a wisp of smoke in his place.

  “We believe we’ve found the actual site of the Salem Witch burials.” John Parker’s voice cracked through the still silence.

  The young man had been speaking the entire time the demon was there. He stopped talking and looked confused at Em, who was still standing in the aisle.

  “Is there a problem?” John Parker asked.

  “Spider emergency,” Em said.

  She took a tissue from the boxes along the aisle and pretended to capture a spider. John Parker glanced at Isaac and Asher, who were sitting down.

  “My son is terrible allergic,” Isaac said in a thick Yiddish accent that would rival his ancestor. “Very bad, very bad.”

  Asher nodded. Em held up the tissue indicating that she’d captured the spider. With great flourish, George took the tissue from her and jogged to the bathroom. Em went back to her spot next to the door.

  “I had no idea there were horrible spiders here,” Alice said in her southern accent. “I’m terrified of those spiders.”

  She turned to her gentleman. Touching his arm, she cleared his memory of the demon. His face went from care worn to a bright smile for the lovely Alice.

  “Come on, Shug. Let’s get out of here,” Alice said.

  The man looked at John Parker and then at Alice. She held out her hand, and he took it. They walked down the aisle and left the building.

  “Now, where was I?” John Parker asked. “That’s right . . .”

  When George returned, Em pointed out the door. George, Sarah Wildes, and Bridget followed her to her office. Em didn’t say a word until her office door was closed. Em took her seat at her desk. Bridget sat down in a chair while George and Sarah Wildes stood.

  “What the hell was that?” George asked.

  “No idea,” Em said.

  “But you . . .?” Sarah Wildes asked. “How?”

  “No idea,” Em said. “Have any of you seen this demon before?”

  “No,” Bridget said. Sarah Wildes shook her head.

  “George?” Em asked. “Have you read about such a thing?”

  “Never,” George said. “We covered devils and demons in theology school, but that guy never came up. And I assure you, I’ve never seen him before.”

  “Have you ever felt his presence?” Em asked. “Any of you?”

  “Yes,” Sarah Wildes said. “Yes. I have.”

  “Do you remember when?” Em asked.

  “Have you?” Sarah Wildes ignored Em’s question to ask Bridget and George. “Have you felt him before?”

  Bridget nodded. George was staring off into the distance. Sarah Wildes touched his arm, and he looked at her.

  “Have you felt this demon before?” Sarah Wildes repeated.

  “Yes,” George said.

  “Where?” Em asked.

  “Salem Village,” George said. He glanced at Sarah Wildes. She and Bridget nodded their heads. “They came for me in Maine. They dragged me from my dinner table and brought me back to Salem Village for trial. I remember being astonished how much Salem Village had changed. There was a cast over the town, a kind of grey fog or shadow. Returning to Salem Village, that’s the first time I felt this demon. That’s why I was so terrified for Em. The very same creature who’d descended Salem Village into madness has returned.”

  “What are we going to do?” Bridget asked.

  “No idea,” Em said. “But one thing’s for sure. This is definitely between me and him.”

  George went to her. He nodded, and she stood from her chair.

  “Sarah?” George said. He touched her shoulder. “Bridget?”

  “Well?” Em smiled.

  “Clear,” Sarah Wildes said. Bridget nodded.

  “You’re ‘clear,’” George said. “What does it mean?”

  “It means the demon is gone,” Em said.

  “For now,” Sarah Wildes said.

  “Gone is gone,” Em said.

  “And these kids?” Bridget asked.

  “We need to keep an eye on this John Parker,” George said. “He may be the entire scope of our problem or the tip of the iceberg. You saw him the day you had the vision, right?”

  “He was waiting outside the store for Shonelle,” Em said.

  “But not inside,” Sarah Wildes said.

  “He didn’t have an invitation to come inside until tonight,” Em said.

  The witches gave remarkably similar worried nods of their heads. Em smiled.

  “We had success tonight,” Em said. “We should feel good about that.”

  “We’re going to have to be careful,” Sarah Wildes said. “All of us.”

  “Protection,” George said. “We must keep up our psychic protection at all times.”

  “And stay connected to each other,” Em said. “Now is not the time to wander off to the island for fifty years.”

  Sarah Wildes and Bridget nodded.

&nb
sp; “I’ll tell the others,” Sarah Wildes said. With a nod, she left the office.

  “I’m going back up to see what else he says,” Bridget said.

  “Want to see the photo of your ghost?” Em smiled.

  Bridget blushed. She raised a hand in goodbye and darted out of the room.

  “Well?” Em asked George.

  “I think you’re incredibly brave,” he said.

  “But?” Em asked.

  “I don’t know what we’re up against,” George said.

  “I don’t, either,” Em said.

  “Why has he come?” George asked. “While I have an idea of how he took over Salem Village, I have no idea why. Or why he is here now.”

  Em looked at him, and their eyes held.

  “I’m wondering when we ever knew what we were up against — or why,” George said. “When I started my life, I never thought I’d be hanged as a witch. I was a man of God, after all. When I was hanged as a witch, I never thought I’d live three hundred more years. And I never thought I’d have all of this and all of you in my life.”

  Em blushed.

  “I guess I’m trying to say, ‘Situation normal.’” George grinned at Em. She nodded. “You want to go up?”

  Em shook her head.

  “I don’t, either,” George said.

  “What about . . .?” Em pointed up.

  “We’re going with them on their ghost hunt, right?” George asked.

  Em nodded.

  “We’ll end up having the séance here,” George said. “That is what you were thinking, right?”

  Em nodded.

  “Then there’s no reason to listen to the blowhard,” George said. “Let’s get Isaac and Asher and go to dinner.”

  Nodding, Em puckered her lips and blew a short burst of air to call them to her. Ten minutes later, Isaac and Asher came into the office.

  “We were thinking of getting dinner,” Isaac said. “Would you like to join us?”

  “Sounds fun,” Em said.

  “I know just the place,” George said with a smile.

  “Lead on, my friend,” Isaac said.

  Em peered out her bedroom windows at the pre-dawn fog. She went to the closet for a thick, wool Aran sweater. She pulled the sweater over her long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans. Turning, she caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror. Even after all of this time, she was still startled by her image in a mirror. She stopped.

  Her long, dark hair was tucked up in a thick knot — the way she liked it. The fog had made ringlets out of the wisps of hair around her face. Framed by the curls, her dark eyes looked enormous. Out of habit, she touched the cleft in her chin. Her father used to say that he’d made that cleft with a kiss when she was born. Of course, he never could explain why he had one, too. She smiled at herself and revealed her pretty, straight, white teeth, courtesy of modern dentistry. She never thought of herself as beautiful — tall, skinny — but not beautiful.

  History remembered her as an elderly crone with a sharp tongue. For an old bird, she didn’t look half bad. Hearing a noise, she looked up to see George coming in from his run. He wrapped his arms around her from behind.

  “What . . .?” she asked.

  He turned her so she would look in the mirror.

  “I wanted you to see us,” George said. “You and me.”

  Em turned toward the mirror but closed her eyes. About her same height, he looked over her shoulder. He gave her a little shake, and she opened her eyes. Her unfamiliarity with the mirror caused her to see them — George and Em — as if they were other people.

  “And?” he asked.

  “They’re a lovely couple,” she said.

  “We belong together,” George said. “We look like we belong together.”

  “But . . .”

  “No ‘buts,’” George said. He kissed her neck and shoulder. In a thick voice, he whispered, “Say it.”

  “We look like we belong together,” Em said in the flat voice she used when he made her say things. He grinned, and she laughed. “But . . .”

  “No ‘buts.’”

  “I need to go,” Em said.

  “Give me five minutes, and I’ll be there,” George said. He pulled off his sweatshirt on his way to their bathroom. “Who’s coming?”

  “No idea,” Em said. “I told everyone.”

  “Susannah and Mary are back in Pennsylvania?” George asked. “Giles is upstate.”

  “As far as I know,” Em said and wondered if they had time for coffee.

  “The pot’s on,” he said, answering her thought.

  “I’ll get it,” she said, but he was already in the shower.

  Her apartment stretched over the entire third floor. The windowless kitchen took up most of the back west corner of the building. While George always got the credit for being the chef, he mostly turned on appliances and warmed up things. She loved to cook and was fairly good at it. She loved excellent food more than getting credit for making it. This kitchen was exactly as she wanted it. She took down two travel mugs, added a scoop of homemade chocolate and a dash of cinnamon, and filled the cups with coffee. George took cream, but she liked her coffee just like this. She was pressing down the cover of his mug when he appeared. With a nod, they took the stairs to the street.

  It had been a week since the demon had appeared at the Mystic Divine. Despite everyone’s dire predictions, everything had gone back to normal. They went ghost-hunting with the teenagers and had seen no spirits, ghosts, or anything paranormal. Alice had finished her work with her gentleman and had even humored Em by returning to her apartment on the fourth floor “just for the summer.” Sarah Wildes’s weekend meditation retreat had gone off without a devilish hitch, and Elizabeth’s knitting group had been unscathed after meeting in the room where Em had seen the demon. To be certain, Mary Ayer Parker, their realtor, had gone through the building top to bottom, and found only love and light.

  Everything was back to normal. Everyone was back to normal.

  Em and George trotted across Boylston Street and into the Boston Common. They hoped to send Ann Hibbins on this morning. While even a weak witch could send on a spirit, Em wanted to give Ann a proper sendoff. Like the Salem Twenty, Ann Hibbins hadn’t done anything that warranted being hanged in the Boston Common. She deserved to live in peace. Em had asked the Salem Twenty to come help Ann rest in peace.

  Em waved to Sam. He was a talented finder, even when he lived in Salem Village. He was a master at it now. This morning, he was looking for the exact location where Ann had been hanged. Unjust death leaves a stain that can tie the spirit to the ground. Sam easily found the stain.

  “It’s over here.” Sam waved Em and George in his direction.

  Em went over a rise and saw that most of the Salem witches were waiting for them. Giles, Susannah, and Mary lived too far away to make it. Sarah Good had flown her helicopter from New York. She waved to Em and George. As they approached, the others looked up. Elizabeth ran to Em.

  “Wait ’till you hear what John and Martha found out,” Elizabeth said. “From the NSA, no less!”

  John and Martha walked over to them.

  “What did you find out?” George asked. He looked at John and Martha.

  “John Parker?” John said.

  “The little shit with a demon inside?” George asked.

  “Him,” John said.

  “Yeah?” Em asked.

  “The records show that he’s Ann Putnam’s great-times-ten-grandson,” John said.

  “Our Ann Putnam, Junior?” Em asked. “The little shit from Salem Village who got us all hanged?”

  “Not me!” Elizabeth said.

  Em grinned at Elizabeth and looked back at John.

  “Turns out being a little shit runs in the family,” John said. “He’s on an NSA watch list.”

  “Any idea why?” George asked.

  “Some ideas, no proof,” Martha said. “The agency is looking into him for sending money to groups outside of t
he country.”

  “Terrorists?” Em asked.

  “Maybe,” Martha shrugged. “I’ll tell you, no one was happy when I asked about him.”

  “Right,” John said. “When I called about him, the field desk acted like a thousand people had been asking about him.”

  “Huh,” Em said, and shrugged.

  “We need to get going!” Wilmot said. “Or we’ll lose the power of the dawn.”

  The Salem witches made a circle around the patch of grass where Ann was hanged on June 19, 1656.

  “Ann?” Em asked the wind. “We’re ready if you are.”

  The specter of Ann Hibbins appeared in the middle of the circle.

  “Since I’m the strongest witch, I figured I would do it,” Wilmot Redd said.

  “Go ahead,” Em said.

  Em glanced around the circle. Over the last three hundred years, this group of strangers had become something of a family. John Willard took her hand, and she took George’s hand. George took Sarah Good’s hand and kissed the back of it. Sarah Good smiled at him and took Elizabeth’s hand. John took Martha’s hand, and Martha took Sam’s hand. They continued around the circle until Ann Pudeator reached out her hand to Elizabeth. The women smiled at each other and turned to the center of the circle, where Ann Hibbins and Wilmot stood.

  Wilmot began:

  “We call to the light of dawn.”

  “We call,” the Salem witches repeated.

  “We call for the love and peace of the mystic divine.”

  “We call,” the Salem witches repeated.

  “We call for peace.”

  “We call,” the Salem witches repeated.

  A stiff wind blew the fog from the area.

  “Ann?” Wilmot asked. “Is there anything you’d like to share?”

  “Good luck,” Ann said.

  “Good luck?” Wilmot asked with surprise. “Don’t worry, Ann. We’ve done this many times before.”

  Ann’s eyes locked on Em, and Ann nodded as if Em knew exactly what she’d meant.

  “Anything else?” Wilmot asked.

  Ann’s ghost shook her head. Wilmot held her hands out in front of her with her palms together. A dim light grew between her palms. The light blazed — blinding, white light — and Wilmot struggled to hold onto the light and power as she waited for the dawn.