Suffer a Witch

by Claudia Hall Christian

  “Of course,” Em said. “Let’s go upstairs.”

  “There’s a bunch of people in your apartment getting food and stuff.” Mary Ayer shook her head. “Sam’s working on the snow thing.”

  Em winced at the idea of all of those people in her home.

  “Can we go to your office?” Mary Ayer asked.

  “Sure,” Em said.

  They started toward Em’s office when George called for Em. She turned to look across the store. Detective Shane Donnell was standing at the entrance. Em stared at him for a moment before waving him back.

  “But, Em. . .” Mary Ayer said in a low voice.

  “I looked him up after he was here,” Em said in a low voice. “He’s supposed to have one of the best investigative minds in the country.”

  “John Willard said he teaches classes at the FBI,” Alice said in a low voice.

  “I need someone to help me think through all of this,” Em said. She looked up and smiled at the Detective. “We were just about to talk about everything that’s going on. Would you care to join us?”

  “Is the city in danger?” the Detective asked. “We’ve been getting a lot of calls.”

  “We took care of the immediate threat,” Em said. “It’s going to snow for a while, but the evil has been dealt with — for now.”

  “For now,” Detective Donnell said.

  “I’m hoping to get a better idea of what will be effective with these creatures,” Em said. “Mary here has been researching the situation. Alice brings a wonderful perspective. If you are willing, I’d love to have you assist me in thinking through this.”

  “Sure,” Detective Donnell said. “I got to call my station.”

  “Fair enough,” Em said. “Since there are so many of us, let’s go into one of the small classrooms upstairs.”

  The Detective nodded and took out his cell phone. Em, Mary Ayer, and Alice headed up the stairs.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Mary Ayer said as she sat down.

  “You know that I don’t,” Em said with a grin.

  “We’ll do our best,” Alice said. “If we can’t figure this out, no one can.”

  Em raised her eyebrows in a nod. The Detective came through the door and shut it behind him.

  “Tell me what you know,” Detective Donnell said. “Hold nothing back.”

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Mary Ayer had been talking for almost an hour. She stopped talking only when the detective asked a question. Em’s mind went numb around the same time she lost feeling in her rear. Alice had checked out a long time ago. Though her eyes were open, Em could have sworn that Alice was sound asleep. Em made a mental note to ask if Alice had used a spell.

  Em glanced at Mary Ayer. Em had the distinct feeling that Mary Ayer was falling for Detective Donnell. While he was harder to read, Em thought he was dazzled by Mary Ayer. Em watched the volley of early love unfold. Detective Donnell asked a thoughtful question. Mary Ayer would pause and lay out three or four answers. If Em didn’t feel so desperate, she would have been charmed by the entire interchange.

  One thing was definitely true – Mary Ayer Parker had worked her rear off to find all of this information in such a short time.

  The other thing that was true was that none of the information applied to their situation with Em’s demon.

  Em patiently listened out of the hope that Mary Ayer had found something, anything that applied. So far, Em had been disappointed. There were demons here and there.

  “Here a demon, there a demon, everywhere a demon,” Em’s mind chanted as she listened to Mary Ayer.

  With her foot, Em nudged Alice’s chair. Em cleared her throat, and Mary Ayer stopped talking. Mary Ayer looked at Em and blushed. Em smiled at Mary. Alice stretched in her chair.

  “Warm in here,” Alice said.

  Em, Mary Ayer, and Detective Donnell laughed. Alice grinned.

  “I’m sorry, Em,” Mary Ayer said. “All of this. . . it’s not very helpful, is it?”

  Not sure what to say, Em smiled at Mary Ayer. She glanced at Detective Donnell. He was scowling at something on his notepad.

  “Detective?” Em asked.

  “I wouldn’t say it wasn’t helpful,” the detective shook his head. “No. This was. . . intriguing.”

  “How so?” Em asked. “Please, sir, we’re interested in anything you have to share.”

  “Well, after listening to Mary.” The detective nodded to Mary Ayer. “May I call you Mary, ma’am?”

  “Please do,” Mary Ayer said with a smile.

  “Ma’am,” Detective Donnell cleared his throat, “there’s a lot of quality research and valuable information here. You’ve clearly worked very hard.”

  “Wilmot helped,” said Mary Ayer while flushing with his praise.

  “Our Mary is the best,” Alice said.

  Hearing Alice’s voice, Mary Ayer looked at Alice. She took in Alice’s encouraging smile and grinned.

  “We love her dearly,” Em said.

  Hearing the subtle threat in Em’s voice, the detective’s head jerked up to look at Em. She grinned, and Detective Donnell nodded that he’d received her message. He glanced at Mary Ayer, who was smiling at him.

  “What can you tell us, detective?” Em asked.

  “Well. . .” The word came as a kind of out breath. Detective Donnell flipped through a few of the pages in his notebook. “Well. . . it occurs to me that ‘. . .light,’ ‘. . .dark,’ these are judgements.”

  The women fell silent and still. Detective Donnell began to sweat under the intensity of their gaze.

  “I mean, to us here in Boston, we think murder is bad or dark, right?” Detective Donnell asked. “But if someone invaded our fair city, we’d murder every last one of them without hesitation and call it justice.”

  He looked from Mary Ayer to Em, and then at Alice.

  “‘Light,’ ‘dark,’” Detective Donnell said. “Mary, here, gave us a lot of information about demons. It seems like humans have always had angels and demons.”

  “For all of recorded history,” Mary Ayer said. “Yes.”

  “We can agree that we like angels.” The detective looked from person to person. “We agree we don’t like demons.”

  “Sure,” Em said.

  “Since ‘light’ and ‘dark’ are what we deem them to be, it makes sense that demons and angels are what we make them,” Detective Donnell said. “They are created out of our own hopes, fears, and judgements.”

  “Collectively,” Mary Ayer said. “Some angels, such as the Archangels, come up in stories throughout history.”

  “Yet you can say that the God Shiva is very similar to the Archangel Gabriel,” Detective Donnell said. “And the Archangel Gabriel is not dissimilar to Perses, the Titan of destruction.”

  Mary Ayer thought for a moment before nodding.

  “There are certain types. . .” Detective Donnell said.

  “Archetypes,” Mary Ayer said.

  “Right, archetypes,” the detective grinned at Mary Ayer. “We need to conceive of these situations as a God or an Angel. We have a need to explain our world, and we use these. . . beings, for lack of a better word, to explain the world around us.”

  “And our role in it,” Alice said.

  The detective looked at Alice for a moment.

  “You’re brighter than you look,” Detective Donnell said.

  “Is that a compliment?” Alice asked with a laugh.

  “From me?” the detective grinned. “Yes. That is definitely a compliment.”

  “We’re more than three hundred years old, sir,” Mary Ayer said. “We don’t show the wear, but we’ve lived through a lot.”

  “Well, that’s a question, isn’t it?” Detective Donnell asked. “Do you emotionally and mentally evolve?”

  “I think so,” Mary Ayer said.

  “I have,” Alice said. “I was so. . . young, naïve, when everything happened. I... I’m not so young now.”

  Em ra
ised her eyebrows while she thought for a moment. She nodded.

  “Why do you ask?” Em asked.

  The detective nodded to acknowledge Em’s question. He looked through his notebook for a moment.

  “To me,” Detective Donnell said as he raised his eyebrows. He looked at Mary Ayer, Em, and then Alice. “To me, there are two questions.”

  The detective started flipping through his notebook again. He seemed to settle on two pages that he flipped back and forth.

  “And what are those?” Em asked.

  “Oh,” Detective Donnell said. “Right — you don’t know what they are.”

  “I might,” Em said. “What I know is that I don’t know what are your questions.”

  “Ah,” Detective Donnell said. He gave a full-bellied laugh. When he stopped laughing, he looked at them again. “You are truly not what I expected you to be.”

  “That sounds like a good thing,” Mary Ayer said.

  Detective Donnell blushed and rustled through his book nervously.

  “Detective!” Em said. “What are your questions?”

  Surprised, he jerked to look at her. Feeling her frustration, his face drained of color. He swallowed hard.

  “Don’t worry about, Em,” Mary Ayer said. “She just likes to know what’s going on.”

  The detective looked at Mary Ayer and then at Em.

  “I’m not going to turn you into a frog,” Em said with a smile. “I’m upset and impatient with how little I know and how much less I understand. I feel responsible for the people of this city that will have to endure all of this. . . weather. . . because of me and my issues. The lives of sixteen of the dearest people I’ve ever known, not to mention their infants, are in danger. I must resolve this. The sooner, the better, I’d say.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Detective Donnell said.

  “Your questions?” Em asked.

  “The first question is one you’ve probably thought of — why is this happening now?” Detective Donnell asked. “That’s kind of obvious, but we don’t really know why this demon decided to come after you now.”

  Em opened her mouth to respond, but the detective held up his index finger.

  “Mary, here, said that this Argos told you that the demons didn’t come after him right away,” Detective Donnell said.

  “His demon,” Em said. “There seems to be one for every person like me.”

  Detective Donnell looked at her for a moment before making a note. He looked up.

  “Can you tell me again how they got to him?” Detective Donnell asked.

  “He said they ‘got through,’” Em said.

  “‘Found a way into this world,’” Mary Ayer said with a nod.

  “That’s probably right,” Em said.

  “But you think he’s kind of an idiot, right?” Detective Donnell asked.

  “Well. . .” Em started at the same time Mary Ayer said, “Yes.”

  Detective Donnell raised and dropped his eyebrows in a kind of “That’s what I thought” gesture. He looked at his notebook for a moment before scowling.

  “What if these ‘demons’ take time to develop?” the detective asked. “Think of a child. Even the most hardened criminal starts out as a happy baby. It takes time for malevolence to develop.”

  “And then, over time, it fades away,” Em said with a nod.

  Mary Ayer and Alice looked at Em with raised eyebrows. Only the detective’s shuffling of pages could be heard.

  “Giles,” Em said. Mary Ayer and Alice chuckled. “He’s much nicer now than he was just a hundred years ago.”

  “So let’s say this thing came after you,” Detective Donnell said. “The next question is. . .”

  Detective Donnell looked at Em and then cleared his throat. She raised her eyebrows.

  “Why is this thing frightening?” the detective asked. “I mean, what if this thing isn’t such a bad thing?”

  “You mean like the Goddess of War seems like an amazing, strong woman unless you’re at war?” Em asked.

  “Athena, yes,” Detective Donnell said. “Enyo is thought to also be a Goddess of War.”

  “Or wife of the God Ares, God of War,” Alice said. “Thus Goddess of War in name only. Or possibly his sister with her twin sister as the Goddess of War.”

  “Exactly,” Detective Donnell said.

  “The demon did take over the body of a young man,” Em said.

  “And what?” the detective asked. “According to you, the young man was taken out of his time four hundred years ago only to be dumped into this one. That’s enough to make anyone batty.”

  “You’re asking — what if I’ve got this all wrong?” Em asked. She thought for a moment. “How would I know?”

  “No idea,” Detective Donnell said. “You just asked me to listen, take in the situation, and present the problem. To me, the problem is that you know a lot about all kinds of demons but don’t know anything about these ‘demons.’ And, the reason you don’t know anything about them is that you refuse to interact with them.”

  Stunned by his words, Em could only stare at him.

  “But, he’s a demon!” Alice said.

  Detective Donnell shrugged.

  “The demon that looks like her father shot her,” Mary Ayer said.

  “Did it kill her?” the detective asked.

  “No, but. . .” Mary Ayer said.

  “Would he know that it wouldn’t kill her?” the detective asked.

  “He killed Martha,” Em said.

  “Now that’s a crime,” Detective Donnell said. “And we’ve arrested Bill Panon for it.”

  “You did?” Em asked.

  “He’s sitting in our jail awaiting trial right now,” Detective Donnell said. His face brightened in a kind of laugh. “You want to talk to him?”

  “Maybe when the storm ends,” Em said.

  “Fair enough,” Detective Donnell said. He stood up from his chair. “I should get going.”

  “Thank you so much for your time, detective,” Em said. “I am grateful, again, for your support.”

  “Of course,” Detective Donnell said. “If you need something, just call me.”

  “If you need help over the next couple of days. . .,” Em said.

  “I’ll call you,” Detective Donnell said. “George said he’d head out with me.”

  Em nodded. Mary Ayer stared at the detective. Alice nudged her chair with her foot. Mary Ayer looked up. Alice gestured for Mary Ayer to go with the detective.

  “I’ll show you out,” Mary Ayer said.

  Mary Ayer got up and followed the detective. At the door, she turned to Em and Alice. She wrinkled her nose in a “Should I?”

  “Go for it,” Em said in a low voice.

  Alice grinned. Mary Ayer beamed at them and went to follow Detective Donnell.

  “Ugh!” Alice fell back against her chair. “I’m exhausted!”

  “Yeah,” Em said. “We need to go out and help.”

  “In a minute,” Alice said. “You must be super frustrated.”

  “Poor Mary,” Em said. “She’s busted her ass, and we have bupkis.”

  Em shrugged.

  “A couple of questions,” Alice said. “What are you going to do?”

  “Try to find the answers to the detective’s questions,” Em said.

  “Let me know if I can help,” Alice said.

  Em nodded. They heard footsteps in the hallway and looked up at the door. Mary Ayer came in with a big grin on her face.

  “He asked me to dinner,” Mary Ayer said. “I told him that we were probably eating here. So he’s coming tonight!”

  Em smiled.

  “Nice job!” Alice said. She got up to hug Mary Ayer. “He seems really great.”

  “George wants to see you, Em,” Mary Ayer said. “He’s heading out into the storm.”

  Em got up from her seat. The women walked together toward the store.

  “You are making something yummy tonight, aren’t you?” Mary Ayer asked. />
  “I hadn’t thought of it,” Em said.

  “Think of it,” Mary Ayer said, with great intensity, which caused Alice to laugh.

  “I’m happy for you, Mary,” Em said. She leaned in to give Mary Ayer a hug. “Thank you for all you’ve done. You’re a real life saver.”

  “If I can help — really, anything — I’m there,” Mary Ayer said.

  Em smiled. She walked ahead to find George. She walked past the area where Martha Carrier and Wilmot were doing tarot readings. The energy in the store was warm and happy. Em grinned. If she’d ever had time to dream what she’d wanted to create, this would most certainly be it.

  “Em!” Wilmot said.

  Em stopped walking and waited for Wilmot to catch up with her.

  “How are the readings going?” Em asked.

  “Fun. Really fun.” Wilmot leaned close to Em. “I haven’t read in this time. The people — they are almost as open as in the ’20s.”

  Em grinned. In the 1920s, Wilmot was a famous mystic who dressed in tight-waisted floor-length, red-velvet dresses which pushed her breasts almost to her chin. She fleeced the wealthy while giving nearly every penny to the desperate poor. Em’s eyes flicked to Wilmot’s chest, and Wilmot laughed.

  “Did you talk to Mary?” Wilmot asked.

  Em gave a quick nod.

  “We really tried, Em,” Wilmot said with a sigh.

  “I know,” Em said. “It’s not your fault. Certainly, you both worked your butts off.”

  “We want to help.” Wilmot’s voice held an edge of desperation. “You think that detective is okay?”

  “He’s a descendant of Lydia’s,” Em said with a shrug. “He’s smart, disorganized, goofy. . .”

  “Sounds perfect for Mary Ayer,” Wilmot said. “Are you going to find me a lover, too?”

  “Would you like one?” Em asked.

  Wilmot lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug. Laughing, Em continued toward George.

  “Oh, Em?” Wilmot asked.

  She grabbed Em’s arm, and Em stopped moving. Em turned to look at her.

  “I just. . .” Wilmot said. “Um. . .”

  Em tipped her head to the side.

  “Uh. . .” Wilmot said.

  Wilmot looked like she wanted to melt into the carpet. Em hugged her tight.