Dancing in Darkness: Witch
Page 5
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“So, this guy got a call from his daughter-”
“The mother, Saanvi Saxena had a restraining order against him, but the girl had his number in case of trouble. Bhatnagar was trying to get his life on track. He was attending AA meetings regularly, had a few DUIs on the record. He was the kind of man the police would disregard.”
Zac went quiet, he was trying to imagine a man whose hands were tied in every possible way.
“When the daughter called, he said she was frightened, almost incoherent. She kept saying over and over ‘they’re trying to kill us. They know that mom knows.’”
Zac stared out the window to the flash of lights playing over the Hudson. “And when dad calls the cops, no one believes him, because he’s a drunkard.”
“No one’s reported Ms. Saxena and her daughter missing.”
There’s no trace of foul play at all.
“Why did Blackwood go and search for them?”
“It’s difficult to explain now...the Saxena family had been in our database for years. Ever since they first immigrated to the United States. Back in their native country, a blood relative was accused of being a daayan or ...a witch. They were put to death by superstitious villagers but the remaining family was able to escape bringing their old rituals here.” The older man paused to catch his breath, continuing on in the same, quiet tones. “When the grandfather was caught sacrificing small children and was threatened with execution, the family begged to be spared. Thereafter, they were placed on a watch list of sorts and had to record every birth, every death through the years. Moving was out of the question and many of them died in the same place they had been born.”
“Kind of like probation, then.”
“I suppose that is the general idea. In any case, the last direct descendant appealed to have her record erased. Ms. Blackwood granted her request a little over a year ago. Since then, we hadn’t heard from her until a week ago. Ms. Blackwood read the email this morning asking for her help.”
“She went to investigate that place, then.” Zac said quietly. How could she have gone alone? Don’t you trust me?
At a red light, Reno plucked the dashboard screen from the mounting. “Here, read up. I had Ms. Dupri scan the case files from record. You’ll find everything you need to know there.”
A while later, he commented, “Little Happenhatch?”
“Happenthatch.” The older man corrected automatically. “It’s a little town out of the ways, off the main highway. Some say, it’s in the Adirondacks, others say it’s located farther out. There used to be a big witch cult there in the late 1800s. That’s where you’re going.”
“Witches, again. Sort of like Salem, Massachusetts.”
“Not quite. The Salem witch hysteria was caused by genuine supernatural happenings. There was evidence found by Blackwood in the early days supporting that the trials were nothing but farces concocted to protect the real powers that be.”
That surprised him. “You’re saying they were able to investigate even after so long?”
“From their descendants.” Reno reproved gently. “You’d be surprised to find that some of the prosecutors were themselves seeds of metaphysical traits. When interbred with someone of the appropriate genetic structure, those abnormalities fester and develop into what we call a witch.”
Zac hid his discomfort, hoping the older man didn’t notice. “Kind of like male and female plants, how sometimes one is needed to pollinate the other for the seed to bear fruit?”
Reno shrugged slightly, looking bored. “If you wish to understand from a more scientific view, then yes.”
They weren’t far from the train station when he reached the end of the file. “Compiled by Mina Blackwood, sister to the lost.” He looked to Julian for answers.
“One of the Blackwood descendants lost their life trying to bring to an end the festival of winter solstice.”
“Lost...died? You mean, they were killed?”
Beyond the sealed interior of the sedan, Madison Square Garden was awash in the sights and sounds of nightlife. The reflective sides of the massive K-mart dazzled the eye, the mega bookstore Borders was awash light, steady streams of people exited clogging the sidewalks. They’d gone past the Empire State building with its stately grandeur. “Yes,” he said, glancing over. “Augusta Blackwood went up there with her husband-to be, to purchase land. She was interested in building a companion house to Ashburne estate, or so the story goes. Seems the locals took a big dislike to her and before long had her strung up as the centerpiece for their sacrifice to the pagan God Ashor.”
“You’re kidding...,”
“I rarely if ever do, Mr. Quinn.” Reno said, handing him a train pass.
Anticipation stirred his gut, he was looking down a three to four hour ride into Rensselaer, New York. A second pass was for a taxi he’d take to Little Happenthatch. The roads were impassable to cars driving out of New York city. This was it. He’d either sink or swim with the tide. “I’m going,” he said, and felt for the door handle. A blast of cold air tinged with biting ice stung his unprotected face. Zac shivered, pulling the straps of the backpack out with him.
“Mr. Quinn.”
He stopped.
“Do you have the Monster bible with you? It’s good for reference out in the field.”
“She didn’t give me a copy.” But, I did see one online.
Julian remained unsmiling. “So much the better. You should remain ignorant and unprepared.”