Suffer a Witch

by Claudia Hall Christian

  “You remember Martha?” George asked. “This is her more masculine side, Michael.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Michael said. “And listen.”

  “I’m all ears,” George said.

  The witches turned toward the spirit.

  “Those demons have taken the little red-haired Irish girl,” Michael said. “The one who lives across the way.”

  “The key stealer?” George asked.

  “One and the same,” Michael said. “They are torturing her poor, wretched soul. She’s only a child.”

  “Why would they do that?” Martha Carrier asked.

  “They got your friend Buford,” Michael said. “That’s how they got the girl. You know how protective he is of her. Like she was his child.”

  “The red coat?” Em asked.

  Michael nodded.

  “You don’t want to know what they’re doing to him,” Michael said. “They tried to get Martha, but I intervened. They can’t get me here — inside this building. I got inside only because I’d held Em’s purse. Out there, I’m...”

  Michael’s hands went to cover his ears.

  “I can hear her scream,” Michael whispered.

  “As owner of this building,” Em said. She stepped forward to put her hands on Michael’s shoulders. “You are welcome here, Martha and Michael.”

  “How will I be able to help?” Michael asked.

  “You are anchored here, now,” Em said. “You will return here no matter where you go. The witches are the same. They will not be able to get you now. When you’re ready, we’ll help you move on.”

  “Save the child,” Michael said. “We must save the child and Buford.”

  “How do we do that?” George asked.

  “We’ll figure it out,” Em said. She turned to the witches. “I cannot ask you to come. It’s likely that this is our last battle. I would rather that you stayed here, stayed safe.”

  “Shut up, Martha,” Martha Carrier said. “To the Common!”

  With that, the witches disappeared. Overwhelmed, Em took a breath.

  “Shall we stand together against our doom?” George asked.

  “Nothing would make me happier,” Em said.

  He took her hand, and they left for the Common.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Em landed next to Susannah. Alice, Ann, and Wilmot were standing in the Central Burial Ground.

  “They’re gone!” Susannah yelled over the wind.

  George walked to the marker and called Buford’s name. He added enough magic so that his call could be heard in every dimension. The sound echoed around them. A huge gust of wind and snow knocked George off his feet.

  “We need to get to an open area — the Common!” Em yelled. Like a movie-screen witch, she began to fly a few feet off the ground. “Follow me!”

  As if they were leaves on the wind, the witches flew a few feet off the ground toward the Boston Common Baseball Field.

  “Stay on the field!” Em yelled. “Don’t cross the path. The parking garage is underneath there. We won’t be able to defend it.”

  The witches landed in the center of the baseball fields. Martha Carrier appeared.

  “I stopped at Bridget’s to see if I could grab Sarah Wildes or Margaret,” Martha Carrier yelled over the snow. “Ann, there’s a woman in labor at Bridget’s home.”

  “I will not leave, Em,” Ann yelled back.

  “Go,” Em yelled. She had to lean forward to make her voice heard. “We are nothing if we are not in service to human beings.”

  Overwhelmed by the thought of leaving Em, Ann touched her heart with her hands.

  “Go,” Em yelled. She held out her arms and hugged Ann. “Listen to the wind. Our struggle will be there. If you’re free, come to join us.”

  Ann blew Em a kiss and disappeared.

  “What’s the plan?” Martha Carrier yelled.

  “Are Sarah Wildes and Margaret coming?” Alice yelled to Martha Carrier.

  Martha Carrier shook her head.

  “It’s crazy at Bridget’s,” Martha Carrier said. “She could use our help.”

  “After we kick some demon ass,” Alice yelled. She let out a whoop like a high school cheerleader.

  “Form a circle around Em,” George commanded. He pointed to the ghost Michael. “The energy inside the circle is too much for you. You cannot join us, Michael.”

  “Roger that,” Michael nodded.

  The witches linked elbows in a tight circle around Em.

  “Stay by me, Michael,” George commanded. “I’ll keep an eye on you.”

  “Why, George,” Michael said in Martha’s voice, “you do love me!”

  Still dressed in US military fatigues, Michael suggestively leaned on one hip. George smiled, and the witches chuckled.

  “If you’re in danger, head to the Mystic Divine!” Em yelled. “You’ll be safe there. You, too, Martha!”

  There was an enormous “Boom!” and the witches gave a startled scream.

  “They’re coming!” Em said.

  The wind began to swirl around the witches. Another boom came from somewhere near the Boston Common Gazebo. The air around the witches tightened.

  “Hold on,” Em yelled over the wind. “They are only trying to frighten us!”

  The demons flew with ease through the snow.

  “I see them,” George yelled.

  “I do, too,” Wilmot yelled.

  The demons began to circle above the witches. They screeched and howled, but the witches didn’t move. The snow pounded down upon the witches. Em was losing sight of Martha Carrier, who was standing in front of her.

  “There’s one that looks like Argos!” Mary Ayer yelled.

  “There’s Bill Panon,” Michael pointed to one of the demons above.

  “Where?” Em asked.

  She followed Michael’s finger into the air. The snow battered her face. She squinted against the cold. A dark blur flew overhead. She followed the blur as it flew in the circle above her. When it reached the opposite side of the circle, she recognized the man who had killed her in the Jamaica Plains apartment building. Seeing her face, the man dove down to her and bellowed out a cry.

  “Does he look like your father?” George yelled.

  “A version of him,” Em said. “It’s like he’s darker or. . . something.”

  “Smeared,” Martha Carrier yelled. “It’s like someone took a painting and ran their hand across it.”

  “Like they’re underwater,” George yelled.

  “Or we see them through a coat of oil,” Wilmot screeched over the noise. “They have no clear edges. They are diffuse and yet still tangible.”

  “Is it your father?” Mary Ayers yelled to Em.

  “No,” Em said. “I can’t say why, but it’s not him.”

  “They’ve taken these forms to fool us!” Susannah shouted.

  “Resist the demon!” George yelled.

  “And he shall flee from you,” the witches quoted James 4:7 in unison.

  Em struggled to get a good look at the creatures flying above. She thought she saw a blur that looked like Ellen the Watcher. Another demon that looked a smudged version of Miriam of Geography shot by. The next one looked like a shadowy Benjamin the Warrior. The demons swooped down upon them and screeched away into the clouds.

  “I recognize some of them,” Em yelled.

  “Have you seen the red-haired girl?” George yelled.

  “No,” Em said. “I don’t see my demon, either.”

  With her words, everything became very still. The wind dropped. The only sound was the crisp patter of falling snow. The temperature dropped. The demons had disappeared.

  “What was that?” Alice whispered.

  No one dared respond. Em began a spell. Her lips moved, but no sound came from her mouth.

  “Damn these theatrics,” George said. “Show yourself!”

  “I’m freezing,” Susannah said.

  The snow continued to fall, and Em continued he
r spell. Despite the cold, the field was peaceful. George began leading the witches in his favorite prayer — Robert Louis Stevenson’s “For Success” from his Prayers from Vailma.

  “Lord, behold our family here assembled,” George said in a soft voice.

  “We thank Thee for this place in which we dwell; for the love that unites us.” The witches joined in with the prayer. “For the peace accorded us this day; for the hope with which we expect the morrow.”

  There was a loud whooshing sound that riveted their eyes to the heavens. Em’s demon floated down to them. His naked, charcoal-grey rhinoceros skin glistened in the rain. The curly, dark hair of his legs was wet. His cloven hooves seemed sharper than they were before. The jutting horn in the middle of his pronounced brow ridge seemed exceptionally sharp. He stood out like a dark menace among the sea of white snow around them. His claws held the red-haired girl in a tight grip. The child ghost was weeping. A high-pitched squeal grew as the demon flew closer.

  “You know the spell to close your ears,” Em said. “Use it now!”

  The witches yelled out the spell. The demon smiled at Em. He hovered in the falling snow above her.

  “They can’t hear us now,” the demon said with a grin.

  “I can’t hear him!” George yelled. “Demon — be gone!”

  “I can’t hear anything!” Wilmot yelled.

  “What do you want?” Em asked. As if she were going to punch him, she balled up her fist.

  He stroked the curly hair of the little girl, and the girl began to sob.

  “Cabhrú liom.” The child begged Em to help her in Irish Gaelic.

  “Let her go!” Em demanded.

  “The child has no name,” the demon laughed. “She belongs to whomever owns her.”

  “Let her go!” Em demanded.

  “No,” the demon said with a laugh.

  “What do you want from me?” Em asked. She raised her fists to the sky. “Tell me now!”

  Em’s final word held all of the power of her people and history. The demon laughed at her show of strength.

  “You do not command me!” the demon said. He raised his hand to point at her. “In fact. . .”

  Em opened her hands. The demon gasped as the full blast of a travel spell hit him in the chest. Em grabbed the ghost of the red-haired girl a fraction of a second before the demon soared backward through the air. The demon stretched out his hands to grab the child, but Em held her spirit tight to her chest.

  “To the Mystic Divine!” Em yelled.

  Em transported the girl back to the Mystic Divine. The store was dark and still. They landed at the same time as George. The child threw herself into George’s arms. As the other witches arrived, George and the child spoke back and forth in Irish Gaelic.

  “Can you do that thing?” George asked. “Can you root her here?”

  “The demon is right,” Em said. “Without a name, she’s fair game to any strong force that blows by.”

  “I name you Aileen,” George said in Irish Gaelic. “Aileen álainn.”

  The red-haired girl grinned at being called “beautiful Aileen.”

  “What is your name?” Alice demanded of the girl. George translated.

  “Aileen,” the girl said with a giggle.

  Em placed her hands on the child’s shoulders and rooted her to the building. George repeated her words in Irish Gaelic.

  “What about Buford?” Martha, recently Michael, asked.

  Now that the battle was over, Michael had returned to his Martha form.

  “If I know Buford, he’ll. . .” George started.

  The ghost of the British soldier flew through the front window. He checked to make sure nothing was following him before looking around. George went to welcome his friend. Em welcomed him and helped tie him to the building so he would remain safe.

  “Should we expect the demons?” George asked.

  “No,” Em said. “I sent them far from us. Pluto, I think, but I was aiming for the Kuiper belt.”

  “The what?” Susannah asked.

  “It’s a belt of small debris left over from the creation of the universe,” Wilmot said. Everyone looked at her with surprise. “What? I watched Cosmos with Em.”

  “Our Lord has created a truly wonder-filled universe,” Em said.

  “When do we expect that they will return?” George asked.

  “February at the earliest,” Em said.

  “Just in time for the Super Bowl,” George muttered.

  “It’s not held here, is it?” Em asked.

  George shook his head.

  “Then God’s team, the New England Patriots, should be just fine,” Em said. Under her breath, she said, “Provided they didn’t cheat.”

  “Cheat?” George asked. His face darkened, and he raised a finger to point at her. “Watch what you’re saying, woman. Those are fighting words!”

  The witches gasped, and Em grinned. George scowled.

  “There’s that whole ball-inflation thing,” Em said.

  “The Pats would never cheat,” George said with a sniff.

  Em laughed out loud, breaking the tension. The other witches laughed. Finally, George grinned.

  “What do we do now?” Alice said to change the topic.

  “Let’s open the store to anyone who needs it,” Em said. “If these spirits feel the uncertainty, certainly our community feels it as well.”

  “Did we keep any of the food that was donated?” George asked.

  “We have about half,” Susannah said.

  “We have plenty of food upstairs,” Em said. “I baked a bunch of food so George could take it out with him. The freezer downstairs is full.”

  “We can barbeque,” George said.

  “Good idea,” Em said.”

  “Hey, Em.” Sam jogged down the stairs toward her. His cell phone was clamped between his shoulder and his ear. “There’s so much snow that the city wants to move the snow onto five snow farms.”

  “What’s a snow farm?” Em asked.

  “It’s a place to store all the extra snow,” Sam said. “Most of the sites are parks — Franklin Park Zoo and the golf course there; some place in Hyde Park. They’re looking for one in Dorchester. They think they found one in Hyde Park. They’re wondering if they can use the lot on Tide Street in South Boston.”

  “Can you think of any reason we wouldn’t?” Em asked with a shrug.

  “It will have snow and debris through June?” Sam asked. “We’ll lose the parking income.”

  “We can afford it,” Em shrugged.

  “I’ll tell them to go ahead,” Sam said.

  Em nodded. Noticing it was still dark in the store, Em waved her hand, and the lights came on. From where they stood, they could see that three young women were standing outside the door. George ran to open the doors.

  “Oh, Sam?” Em turned to see if she’d caught him.

  He turned at the top of the flight of stairs. He looked at her, but his attention was clearly on the phone. She waited.

  “Didn’t we help the Port Authority buy those snow-melting tanks?” Em asked.

  Sam pointed to her and nodded. He turned and went up the stairs to the apartments.

  “What was that?” Alice asked.

  “Trying to be a good Boston neighbor,” Em said with a smile. “Why don’t we crank up the heat, pass out food, and. . .”

  “Give free readings?” Martha Carrier asked. “It’s been an age since I played with the tarot. I’d be happy to do readings.”

  “Great idea!” Em said. “We’ll make a festival out of it.”

  “Oh, good, you’re open,” Shonelle said from the door.

  “What are you doing out in the storm?” Em asked.

  Em jogged down to the door. She hugged the girl close. Shonelle shook in Em’s arms.

  “I didn’t know what else to do,” Shonelle said, sniffing back her tears. “There’s something just wrong with this storm. I was scared, and I thought maybe I could come here, and yo
u’d. . .”

  Em kissed her cheek.

  “It’s always so safe here at the Mystic Divine,” Shonelle said.

  “I’m glad you’ve come,” Em said. She hugged the girl again for good measure.

  “Em?” Wilmot touched Em’s arm.

  “I need to. . .” Em gestured to Wilmot. Shonelle nodded. George scooped her up in a tight hug.

  “They’re asking for a prayer session,” Wilmot said.

  “We can have George do one,” Em said.

  “They’re asking for Elizabeth or Sarah Wildes,” Wilmot said. “They lead those big groups. I think most of these people are their flock.”

  “Let’s ask Alice or Susannah to get Sarah Wildes,” Em said. “Sam and Elizabeth are working to shore up the houses and clear the snow. I’m sure Elizabeth will come down if we ask.”

  Wilmot nodded.

  “How many years did you do fortunes?” Em asked in a low tone.

  “More than a hundred,” Wilmot said with a nod. “Not quite two.”

  “Martha Carrier’s setting up tables to give out free readings,” Em said. “Why don’t you join her?”

  “That sounds fun,” Wilmot brightened.

  Em patted her back, and Wilmot left to find Martha Carrier. She felt a hand on her back and turned to see Alice.

  “Susannah went to Bridget’s to get Sarah Wildes,” Alice said. “I just couldn’t leave you.”

  Alice hugged Em.

  “Are you all right?” Alice asked in Em’s ear.

  Over Alice’s shoulder, she watched Sarah Wildes trot down the steps at the back of the store. She rushed to greet a group of “her” women. Alice leaned back from Em.

  “Em?” Alice asked. Her face was a mask of concern.

  “I’m okay,” Em said. “I. . . wish I knew more.”

  “What do we need to do now?” Alice asked. She leaned toward Em as a man walked past them. “About the demon, I mean.”

  “Nothing,” Em said. “We have to wait out the storm.”

  “You’re sure?” Alice asked.

  “I don’t want to go into full-scale battle with these. . . things. . . until I know more of what I’m dealing with,” Em said.

  “How do we find out?” Alice asked.

  “Em?” Mary Ayer asked. “Do you have a minute?”

  Em raised an eyebrow and nodded to Alice.

  “Can I come?” Alice asked. She blushed and took Em’s arm. “I just want to be with you.”