by Mark Tufo
“I’m convinced the man I just saw with Glenn, the one he calls Mr. Cudrick, is Vickar. I don’t know if he uses a first name. I don’t even know if there is a Markov. I’d bet the whole company is a façade.”
“Created for what purpose?” Emma asked.
Allyson stood. “I need to share this with my father.”
They all looked at her like she was crazy.
Peter was the one to speak: “Ally, what good will that do?”
She shook her head. “What we’ve got to show him is pretty convincing. Since we are now sure he’s not the Evil One, I’m hoping that when he learns what I am – what we are – it changes him somehow. I want to convince him that despite all his efforts in the past, he cannot possibly control my life or my direction any more than he can control the cycles of the Sun. Everything I do is destiny, including Peter.”
Peter pulled her into his arms and held her. “I feel that way, too,” he said. “What we feel for one another is a continuation of feelings felt for hundreds of years. This isn’t a new thing. But please, Ally. Don’t tell your father yet. I think we need more time. Okay? Just a bit more time?”
She nodded. “Okay, but I am telling him. I’ll wait.”
Peter kissed her. “Thanks. I feel better.”
“Okay, back to why he created Cudrick-Markov. Maybe we just ask Glenn when he gets here?” Emma said.
“I don’t think he’ll know, but we can try,” said Matt. “Dummy corporation to prevent the true identity of the owner from being revealed?”
“If the owner’s name is Ferguson Carver, then yes,” Peter said. “But this man was only in his sixties. There’s no way he’d look like he did, or sound as sharp.”
Isabel shook her head. “We age,” she said. “But the process maintains a reasonable rate throughout most of our lives for protection – for instance, you all look around your actual ages. But as you enter your fifties and sixties, the process will slow dramatically. Soon, you might age one year for each five that pass. In twenty years, you shall only age four.”
“What do you mean, protection?” Allyson asked. “You mean that people who know us can pass it off as just aging well?”
“The older you get,” Isabel said, “The less people question you. You can lie about your age. It’s not a difficult thing. Most people will just say you look good for your years. You could not, however, continue to look seventeen-years-old for fifteen years, or it would be quite strange.”
There was a loud knock on the door, and someone tried the doorknob. Emma had locked it because of their activities, so she got up and opened it.
Glenn stood on the front porch, his face flushed and pale. He looked past Emma inside the room and saw Peter. “Jesus, Pete! You are here.”
Peter walked toward the door and put his arms around his brother. “Sorry I scared you,” he said.
“I almost shit my pants, Pete.”
“I had to get you here,” he said. “Sorry.”
Glenn came in and nodded to all the others, but turned right back to Peter. “I felt the hoods of all the cars out there. None have been driven in the last hour. How did you get back here so fast?” asked Glenn, his eyes fixed on Peter’s.
“I was out of my body when I spoke with you,” Peter said. “Kind of an astral projection thing.”
“That is exactly what it was,” Isabel said.
Glenn scoffed. “I want to know exactly what the fuck is going on. I can’t be associated with freaky shit like this if I’m going to win a senate seat,” he said.
“Glenn, why are you running for US Senate anyway? You told me you had designs on the Mayor’s office for Christ’s sake. That’s a pretty huge difference. You never said anything about higher aspirations.”
Isabel spoke. “Glenn, we must tell you many things. You are involved, and a bit more than indirectly. I have some suspicions I’d like to share that might prevent you from becoming more deeply intertwined in this. That’s one possibility. The other is that you could be drawn in as deeply as these four are.”
They got Glenn to calm down a bit and recounted the story from the beginning. They told him everything. The original four witches, what they had attempted. Glenn was told of their failure, and of the curse. They had agreed that anytime they met they would have all the items of importance with them, so the photos were also at Emma’s. They showed these to Glenn as well.
When they had finished telling all, Glenn laughed. Not a nervous laugh, not a sad laugh. A disbelieving laugh.
“This is all a crock of shit,” he said.
“Really,” said Allyson.
“Yes. Still jealous of my success. I get that. But you don’t have to try to ruin me by planting speakers in the elevator and trying to convince me you’re fucking witches. Really? Witches?”
Allyson stood up and glared at Glenn. “I’ve never liked you. Not having met you, I relied on what others told me about you. They said you were a selfish man who could care less about others; the word is you know exactly what kind of people you defend, and that 95% of the time they’re actually guilty. And still you stand up for them. You are so convincing during trial and so many killers get their cases thrown out that they pour out of the woodwork to find you.”
“It’s all true,” he said.’
“Not for long,” Allyson said. She went into the kitchen.
A moment later she returned with a knife. It was a 6” knife with a blade about half as long with a serrated edge. The handle was plastic, and the knife looked sharp.
Glenn jumped up. “What the fuck are you doing with that?” he asked.
Peter narrowed his eyes at her. “What are you doing, Ally?”
“I have to do this, but please, don’t worry.” Her eyes met Peter’s with a warning to stay put.
He nodded almost imperceptibly, reluctance in his eyes.
She lifted her shirt, ran the serrated blade down her stomach, and plunged the knife into her stomach to the hilt.
Peter jumped to his feet and everyone screamed at once. As Allyson began drifting backward, ready to fall, Peter got to her quickly and threw his hands beneath her, stopping her head from slamming into the hardwood floor.
Emma moved quickly and was soon on the floor beside Allyson and Peter.
Glenn leapt to his feet staring at Allyson, his eyes wide. “What the fuck did you do?” he screamed.
In a weak voice, her eyes slits, Allyson said, “Margaret healed Katherine, and Emma will heal me. If I had any doubts, I wouldn’t have done this, obviously.”
“A warning might have been nice, Ally,” said Emma, extending her casted leg out in front of her. She gripped Allyson’s bloody shirt and ripped it quickly off her body. Allyson wore a plain white bra that had also become soaked with blood from the serious gash just below it.
“Shit!” Matt yelled. “Call 911! Now!” He was paralyzed, unable to take his eyes from Allyson’s prone body. Peter ran to grab his cell phone from the counter in the kitchen.
“No!” said Emma. “I have her.”
Peter gripped the phone and stared at her, his finger poised to hit the Emergency button, but she met his eyes with hers and he saw she was serious – and confident.
“I promise you, Webby. I got her.”
And as they watched, she became laser-focused. Emma’s hands went to the knife. She did not hesitate for even a split second. She slid it from the cut and dropped it on the floor. Blood bubbled out of the deep gash, and Emma quickly pressed her middle finger inside the cut as deeply as it would penetrate. She turned her hand, moving her finger deep within the cut, then began withdrawing it, fractions of an inch at a time. As her fingers slid out of the wound, the blood lessened, and as she pulled her finger completely out, the wound closed up and the epidermis sealed itself, becoming whole again, no trace of a stab wound at all. No hematoma, not even a red mark.
When Allyson sat up again and smiled, it showed them all that there was apparently no pain, either.
It was as thou
gh it never happened.
Allyson leaned forward and hugged Emma tight.
“Thanks, Em.”
“Wow,” Emma said. “That’s hard to get used to.”
Glenn was speechless. He looked at each of them, then shook his head.
“Witches? Really? I don’t even know how to begin to process this. How are you doing it?”
“To be fair,” Matt said, “We’ve had more time.”
Glenn shook his head again. “Okay. Who can tell me what this guy wants with me?” asked Glenn.
“We’re not sure, exactly,” Peter said. “But if he’s convinced you to run for the United States Senate, it can’t be good.”
Isabel looked closely at Glenn, then smiled. “There is good in you, Glenn. It is my feeling that Vickar has been deeply involved in your life since you were a baby.”
Peter looked at her. “In what way?”
“Yeah, how has he been involved?” asked Glenn.
“You are of the same blood. You are identical twins. I’m sure he has known of both of you since your birth, but his ability to control Peter is minimal, or non-existent. You were the next best choice for him.”
“Control me how, and why?” Glenn asked. “Guys, I’m just getting into this thing, and I’m still on the edge of belief, though Allyson’s forced demonstration has gone a long, long way toward making me jump in feet first.”
“Vickar has not only taken great pleasure in ending the lives of these four over several generations, he has perhaps taken greater pleasure in causing pain for them,” Isabel said. “With Peter’s former incarnation, Chris, it was taking his boyhood friend Stanley Ross. In this life, it was making you so different from him that you were almost unrecognizable as his brother, much less his identical twin.”
“Unrecognizable . . . you mean my personality?”
“Have you ever felt that the things you do are not by choice, but by manipulation? Do you feel remorse for the way you treat people, or for what you do professionally?”
Glenn thought about this for a few moments before answering. Peter spoke first.
“Glenn, I’ve known you as long as I’ve known anyone on this Earth, and even as a kid I wondered how we could be so different. I’d like to believe it wasn’t your choice. Now that I have reason to believe it’s possible, I really have to embrace that possibility.”
Glenn looked at Isabel, then at Peter. “Don’t you think I’ve been jealous my whole life that you were the one people were drawn to? That you were the nice one? I sometimes felt it made me even more bitter, but I couldn’t help the way I was – the way I am. Believe me, if I thought I could blame this Vickar guy for all of it, then I’d do it in a minute.”
He looked at Allyson. “You said you didn’t like me based on what others said about me. Well, I can see that you and Pete here are tight. So what you know about me – a lot of it, anyway, clearly came from him. My brother. Do you know how that makes me feel?”
“You wouldn’t have given two shits about it two hours ago,” said Emma.
“You’re right. But seeing what I saw, and thinking back on my entire life, I can’t be the same. I care, and I’ve always cared what people think. If I completely accepted what others said about me – the newspapers, acquaintances, my family – I’d have killed myself years ago.”
“It’s not too late to change my mind about you,” said Allyson. “You can help end this, and you might even find redemption. I know you can’t undo the things you’ve done, but you might be able to take a path that the unaffected Glenn might have taken years ago.”
“You must not let Murdock Vickar know that anything inside of you has changed,” Isabel said. “And to that end, I believe that Peter has the power to prevent him discovering your secret.”
“How? A spell?” Glenn was not smirking, but Peter thought it was clear he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea.
“Exactly,” said Isabel. “And Peter will be the one to cast it.”
Peter looked at her. He’d never uttered an incantation, spell, or even played with hypnosis before. He wasn’t sure he had any idea how to do it.
“Isabel, I can’t,” he said. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“That is why I’m here,” she said. “I have the ancient texts, Peter. I know something about spells.”
From her bag, Isabel withdrew an old book. It’s leather cover had been worn a faded ash color, and the pages were not only yellowed, they had faded to a non-color. She opened the book to a marked page, and the text appeared to have been hand-written.
“This is a book from the trunk Galen brought with him. The trunk itself preserved it through time, and I have done my best to protect it over the years since I was a young woman. These are the writings of the original four.”
“How was he able to preserve these things?” Matt asked. “He was executed before he knew what would happen. To gather them and get them to you is impossible.”
“Galen had many who knew his secret. Those outside his family. He revealed no names at the hands of the witch finder’s torture. When he left his body that final time, he traveled first to a friend’s home.”
She opened the book with a delicate hand, and turned it to the last page. There, in a text entirely different than the other writing throughout, and in a darker ink, was a short paragraph.
“This,” Isabel began, “is written by William Spire. According to earlier notes by Galen, he was a close friend of the family, but had no powers.”
She read:
It is with great sorrow that I write the following words. In secret, I have been visited this evening by my lifelong friend Galen Bishop. This visit was not in flesh, but in spirit, for his vessel was destroyed on this day in the town square for the crime of witchcraft. This is a travesty, for Galen has committed no crime in the years I have known him. He has used his God-given powers, which are many, in the name of helpfulness and goodness solely. His visit to me, while unexpected, was of dire importance; He instructed me to prepare this chest, constructed by his hands and given to me some years before, by placing within it this book alone. He shared with me its location and asked that I write the events leading to this point within its pages. The book, according to Galen, contains, a number of spells and incantations which can be used to protect men and to alter dire prophecies. I have not enough knowledge of the mysteries of his abilities to share any further. I pray for God’s grace to those who hold this book and further pray that they use its powers for the good.
William Jameson Spire
The Third Day of April, In The Year of Our Lord, 1693
When she finished reading, Glenn fell onto the sofa beside Allyson and Peter and stared at them.
“This is real isn’t it,” he said.
“Brother, I tried to tell you,” Peter said. “It’s as real as it gets. We need to figure out a game plan.”
“Peter and Allyson, you must go back into your previous lives.” Isabel looked at each of them.
“How is that necessary?” Allyson asked. “We know who he is now! We just have to . . . well, to kill him.”
“What then?” Isabel asked. “And walk away?”
“Isabel, I don’t understand,” said Peter. “Wasn’t our purpose to discover who he was so we can do exactly that? For God’s sake, I was afraid it was Glenn, and –”
“You thought it was me?” Glenn interrupted. “You were going to kill me?”
Everyone was silent. Isabel broke the quiet.
“They did not want to, Glenn. You know Peter loves you, but if you were the reincarnation of Murdock Vickar, the necessity of it could not be in question. But that is no longer important.”
“Why not?” Glenn asked.
“Because I will cast a protective spell over you tonight. A very powerful one.”
“I don’t know what to say,” said Glenn. “Am I that bad a person that you all thought of me first?”
“Glenn, you know by now that we also thought it might be Allyson’
s father. It wasn’t personal. Learning Vickar’s identity is what we’ve been struggling to do since we discovered this thing, and of course we’d have suspects.”
He shook his head. “I’m that bad.”
“You can change,” said Emma.
“You can,” Matt echoed. “This man you’ve been hasn’t been you – not the real you, anyway. It’s been a creation, a manifestation of the kind of human being Murdock Vickar wanted you to be. Haven’t you ever wondered why you were nothing like us? Me and Peter?”
“You’re an alcoholic, Matt! Not such a fine specimen, I’d say.”
“Nice,” said Emma. “I see you’re still working on shaking off the evil persona, Glenn.”
Glenn shook his head. “I’m not trying to be mean. I’m just saying we all have our flaws. I just don’t know if I can accept that I’ve been who I am because of a man I don’t even know.”
“He’s not a man, Glenn. He is closer to a demon than a man,” said Isabel. “There have, without a doubt, been others controlled by him and manipulated to perform dark deeds through time. He cannot change these four, and never could. They are witches, too. He can influence only mortal man and machines, inanimate objects – not other witches.”
“So how did Peter become a witch and me just a man?”
“I prefer warlock, just in case you’re wondering,” said Matt.
Isabel ignored Matt’s remark. “The soul takes root as it continues its journey. It could just as easily have been your body into which Galen’s soul inserted itself. Instead it was your brother. Vickar saw you, as the one closest to him, as a perfect project.”
“Project,” Glenn muttered. “Who am I then?”
Allyson spoke first. “You’re not the man I chastised earlier, Glenn. I’m sorry for saying those things to you. Who you really are, I think, will depend on how you feel when Vickar’s spell – or possession of you – is gone. I think that’s when we’ll all meet the real Glenn Webster.”
“I look forward to it,” said Emma. “I’m sure we all do.”
“To do what is required, you will need to go back,” Isabel continued. “Allyson, you could do it alone, but I would feel better if Peter was with you. He is more powerful, and could quite possibly affect, physically, the past. I know I told you that you were only visitors who could only experience it, and that’s still true. But Peter has learned how to travel outside his body, and I believe that if he knows the precise day, he can accompany you as Peter, not as Chris.”
