The 45th Parallel

by Maureen Hands

  “We have great seafood chowder. Did you take the ferry here or boat in for the weekend?” he asked. The bartender looked to be close to fifty with a stocky build and salt and pepper hair.

  “We sailed in today,” Anna answered. “It seems awfully quiet here this weekend.”

  “You could say that,” the bartender said. “Where are you staying while you’re here?”

  “We are staying at the Mystic Beaver Inn,” John said.

  “Sarah’s place, she makes a good breakfast. Where did you sail in from?”

  “Northport,” John answered.

  “We may have some weather rolling in here the next couple days. That lake can whip up pretty good this time of year. Be sure and check the weather before you sail home.” The front door opened and two couples came in and perched at the other end of the bar. “My name is Tom, just holler when you are ready to order,” the bartender said as he headed back behind the bar.

  “I was reading about the history of Beaver Island. This place seems to attract a lot of religious cults,” Helene said.

  “They are drawn to these islands because of their seclusion and because of their magic properties,” a gruff, unfamiliar voice said.

  They all looked over toward the bar at the old salt. He sat, still facing the bar, nursing his beer. He was wearing worn jeans and a thick blue and gray flannel shirt. Once he knew he had their attention, the old man swiveled his bar stool around so he was facing their table. His face and hands were ruddy from years spent in the outdoors. “Be careful of the Reaping Moon,” he said.

  “Why?” Patrick asked.

  “People disappear during the Reaping Moon,” the man continued. “Beware of anyone you don’t know.”

  “That would be everyone on the island,” Patrick said. “We’re tourists.”

  “What is this superstition around the Reaping Moon?” John asked as his eyes began to darken.

  “That’s when they come back.”

  “When who comes back?” John asked.

  “The Reaping Moon Witches,” the old man lowered his voice and stared into John’s eyes. “Every three years, during the Reaping Moon, someone goes missing.”

  “Tell me about the curse,” John said.

  The man turned his head slightly, unable to pull his gaze from John’s. Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead before he reluctantly continued, “A coven of witches came from Ireland, through Canada to Beaver Island in the mid-1800s. They practiced the black arts,” the old man stopped and his breathing quickened.

  “There was an Indian witch who lived on High Island. Legend has it he had the ability to take the shape of any human or animal he chose. The Irish coven wanted to learn how to shape shift, so they sought out the Indian witch and convinced him to share the secrets of his power,” the old man said as he gripped the arms of his chair.

  “Please continue,” John said in a dark voice.

  “The Irish coven killed the Indian witch during a dark ceremony. As he was dying, the Indian witch cursed them. The witches rise every three years but must return to their resting place before dawn on the night of the Reaping moon or die.”

  “Where is their resting place?” John asked.

  “No one knows. Those who have gone looking for it during the Reaping Moon have never returned.” the old man said, his voice shaking.

  “Does everyone on this island know about the Reaping Moon Witches?” Kat asked. John looked over to Kat, temporarily releasing his hold on the old man.

  “All the islanders know to fear the Reaping Moon, but only those who are descendants from the original Irish families that came to the island, know why,” the old man said as he glanced nervously over his shoulder and clutched a silver pendant that hung from his neck. Kat recognized it as the same Celtic charm she wore.

  “I have the same pendant,” Kat said.

  The old man looked at Kat in surprise as she pulled the pendant from under her shirt and held it out for him to see. “This pendant is only worn by those descendants of the original Irish families. Your people must have emigrated from Ireland to Beaver Island.” he said.

  “I was told it was a Celtic protection symbol,” Kat said.

  “Aye, it is. It is protecting you from having your life force consumed by the witches. It doesn’t protect you from them slitting your throat, though. Stay inside once the moon rises and don’t trust anyone. The witches lure people out by taking the form of loved ones. For all you know, any one of your friends here could be a Reaping Moon Witch,” the man said to Kat as he glanced at John and her cousins.

  “Who on this island would be able to give us more information on the Reaping Moon Witches?” John asked drawing the old man’s focus off Kat and back to his dark eyes.

  “Father Gallagher is the only one who would know more, but he is on the mainland and won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon.”

  The bartender, Tim, had moved down the bar and noticed the old man talking to them. “Are you telling crazy stories again, O’Reilly?” Tom asked, as he gave the old man a warning glare.

  John closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. O’Reilly turned back toward the bar drank down the rest of his beer, slid off his barstool, and shuffled quickly out of the bar.

  “Did you decide what you would like to eat?” Tom asked. They all ordered the soup but none of them had much of an appetite.

  “We can’t wait until this Father Gallagher returns tomorrow. We need a plan to find Dora, Jerry, Denise, and Rose and to find the resting place,” Helene said.

  “My parents visited the Old Mormon Print Shop, which is the historical museum, while they were here. I think they discovered something in there that told them where the witches’ resting place is. The museum is closed now but will be open tomorrow,” John said.

  “I think we should go back to the inn,” Kat said. “I don’t want to be out after dark.”

  “She’s right,” Anna said. “I don’t think we are going to get any more information from the islanders tonight.”

  John motioned the bartender for the check, paid the bill, and they began the walk back to the inn. The streets were still deserted. No people or animals crossed their path.

  When they got back to the inn, the innkeeper, Sarah, was nowhere to be found. The inn was dark except for the hall their rooms were in.

  “Try to get some rest,” John said as they went into their separate rooms.

  Kat went into her room, shut her door, and locked it. She changed into a short, low cut nightie with spaghetti straps. It was a soft pink color. She had bought it when she and Daniel were dating. She planned on wearing it when they got engaged. That event never happened. Kat figured she might as well wear it tonight. She may never have another chance. She brushed her teeth and hair and turned out the lights. She eventually fell asleep but tossed and turned fitfully. The old man’s words at the Island Pub kept running through her mind, “For all you know, any one of your friends here could be a Reaping Moon Witch.”

  Kat began to dream she was walking through the field she had seen in her visions. Everything was bathed in the blood red moonlight. John was standing in the middle of the field with his back to her. She called his name and began to run to him. As she was running to him he turned slowly toward her. When Kat saw his face, she stopped dead in her tracks.

  Just like in the dream she had after their first date, there were two large black holes in the place where his eyes should’ve been.

  “Open the gate for us, Kat,” he said in a menacing voice that echoed through the field. Kat looked behind John to see five Reaping Moon Witches standing at the tree line, their eyes glowing.

  “No John,” Kat yelled.

  “Open the gate!” he demanded, as the five witches moved closer.

  “John,” Kat yelled louder. The sound of her own voice woke her from her dream. She had been calling out in her sleep.

  Kat heard a door opening, and then there was a tap on her door.

  “Kat, it’s John, ar
e you all right?”

  Kat went to the door and opened it to see John standing in the hall, leaning one arm against the doorframe. He was barefoot and shirtless. Kat’s eyes followed down from his face to his muscular chest, to his bellybutton and followed the thin line of hair that started just under his bellybutton and disappeared into the top of his boxers. His jeans were unbuttoned as if he had thrown them on to rush over to Kat’s room.

  “I heard you call my name,” he said.

  Kat stared into John’s eyes but they looked normal in the well-lit hallway. What was the dream trying to tell her? She had to know if he was one of the Reaping Moon Witches. She reached out and grabbed a belt loop from his jeans, pulled him into her dark room and shut the door. He had a startled confused look on his face as she pushed him back against the closed door and looked frantically into his eyes.

  After a moment, she relaxed and said, “Oh thank God,” as she stared at his dull, beautiful, human eyes.

  “Kat?” John said completely confused.

  “I just had to be sure. I had to check to see if your eyes glowed in the dark room,” Kat confessed. “I’m sorry but I guess the old man at the bar spooked me.”

  John stood silent as his gaze traveled from Kat’s face down the length of her short nightie to her legs. Kat could see his chest start to rise and fall. When he looked into her face again, his eyes full of heat.

  Kat took a step back, realizing he wanted her. This gorgeous man wanted her, despite the fact she had nightmares, despite her fear of losing her sanity, despite the fact she had a hard time accepting herself. She stood there in the moonlit room, staring at John and realized he was the first man who knew the real Katherine Collins, and he still wanted her.

  “This may be our last night,” she whispered as she slid the straps of the nightie off her shoulders and let it fall in a pool around her feet.

  “Kat…” he said as he stepped toward her wrapping his arms around her lower waist, pulling her into his bare chest. His mouth found hers and he kissed her deeply. She slid her hands up his muscular back, and pulled him even closer. He reached down, lifted Kat in his arms and carried her to the bed.

  He stood by the side of the bed, half-naked in the moonlight, and took his jeans off while Kat watched. He looked down at Kat hungrily before taking off his boxers. He is even more gorgeous naked.

  “My God, you are so beautiful,” John said breathlessly. He lay down on his side next to her and kissed her fully on the mouth. His hand moved across her stomach and up to her right breast. He broke their kiss as he bent his head to put his mouth where his hand had just been. Kat moaned and clutched the back of his head, not wanting any space between them. He slid his hand into the waistband of her panties and pushed them off before moving on top of her. She could feel the hot tip of his arousal, poised between her legs.

  “Are you sure?” John said, his voice strained. In answer, Kat thrust her hips forward and he responded sliding fully into her. John groaned, his warm breath bathing her neck. He began to move in earnest, igniting every nerve ending in her body until a climax exploded through them. Kat had never felt anything like that. As soon as he began to climax, she could feel what he was feeling as if their nerves were connected, intertwined. She knew he could feel her too. They were one for a brief period of time.

  He lay on top of her for several minutes, neither one of them wanting to let go. Finally when his heart rate began to come back down, he kissed her softly on the mouth and rolled off her, keeping his hand on her stomach. They lay there next to each other staring at the ceiling for a few moments unable to speak, still feeling the aftershocks. Kat felt John shift, and she rolled over and put her head on his chest.

  “Are you going back to your room?” she asked.

  “I’m not going anywhere. If this is my last night, I’m going to spend it holding you,” he said as he stroked her back.

  “I don’t think I could bear being alone tonight,” Kat said softly.

  John cupped Kat’s face in his hands. “I’m sorry we didn’t meet under different circumstances,” he said. He rolled back on top of her and kissed her softly. They made love again. Although it was slower this time, the end result was just as intense. They fell asleep, spooned together, with John’s arm draped around Kat’s waist.

  Kat was awoken early in the morning when John sat up abruptly, gasping for breath. Once his breathing had slowed, he looked around the room unsure of where he was. When he saw Kat next to him, he looked relieved and smiled. He leaned over and kissed her softly on the mouth. “I’m going to get in the shower. I’ll come get you for breakfast,” he said. Kat sat up, wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head against his shoulder.

  “I don’t want you to go,” she said.

  “I want nothing more than to stay in this room and make love to you all day, and forget about why we came here, but we can’t,” he said as he stroked her hair and kissed her head.

  “I know, but I’m afraid of what the next moon will bring. I want to pretend there is no such thing as Reaping Moon Witches.” Kat pulled away from him.

  John gave her a rueful smile and said, “I will try to make that wish come true.” He kissed her again, pulled on his pants and slipped quietly out of the room.

  As Kat watched him leave, she had a very strange sensation something was missing. Then she realized she had not dreamed at all the rest of the night.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  After Kat showered and dressed, she heard a gentle tapping on her door. She opened her door to find John standing there. Her cousins were standing at the top of the stairs waiting.

  “Good morning,” John said as he smiled knowingly at her. “Care to join us for breakfast?”

  “I don’t have much of an appetite but I’ll give it a shot,” she said as she returned his smile. They all went downstairs to the restaurant. There was only one table set, so they sat down and waited for Sarah. She appeared momentarily with a pot of coffee, told them the menu for the morning, and went back into the kitchen.

  “What is the plan?” Helene asked.

  “I think we start with following in my parent’s steps. They went down to the Old Mormon Print Shop. I’m not sure what they were looking for there but I’m hoping Kat will be able to see something. We need to continue to try to contact Jerry Nelson and find out where West has taken them.”

  “Do you think they could be at one of the neighboring islands?” Anna asked.

  “It’s possible. High Island and Garden are the closest and both are uninhabited.”

  “Are you going back to Northport today?” Sarah asked as she brought them more coffee.

  “Actually, I thought we would visit some of the neighboring islands. Any you would recommend?” John said.

  “There’s no good reason to go to High Island, unless you like to hunt,” Sarah said sharply. “The DNR has a dock in the northeast harbor, but they will probably be pulling that out soon. I would recommend you stay here or head back to the Michigan coastline.” Sarah looked up from pouring coffee to see the look of surprise on John’s face. Her voice softened then and she said, “We are expecting some weather to roll in here over the next twenty-four hours. It’s just safer not to go to such a remote area.”

  “Do you recall if my parents said where they were going after they checked out of the inn?” John asked.

  Sarah stopped pouring coffee and said, “They mentioned they may check out some of the neighboring islands. I told them the same thing. This was a bad time of year to be island hoping.”

  “Do you mind if I use your phone to call the harbor master? We want to see if our friends made it to Beaver yet, and my phone doesn’t seem to be getting good reception here,” John said.

  “Of course, help yourself,” Sarah said.

  John returned to the table after a few minutes and said, “The harbor master said Jerry called into the harbor to see if there was space available for Traversity, but they have not come in yet. Why don’t we walk down
to town? Maybe they will have come in by the time we get there. If not, we will check out the Mormon Print Shop while we are waiting. If I can get a hold of West, I can find out if he knows where the resting ground is.”

  They walked down into town and checked in with the harbor master. They tried once again to call Traversity on the radio with no luck. John asked the harbor master to let Jerry know he needed to contact him immediately if they called in again, then they walked over to the Old Mormon Print Shop Museum. The town was almost as quiet as the night before.

  A woman was sitting just inside the front door of the museum reading a worn paper back. The sound of the front door opening startled her. Kat guessed she was close to sixty. Her Beaver Island Historical Society volunteer nametag said Barb.

  “Welcome to the Old Mormon Print Shop Museum. Where are you folks from?”

  “Northport,” John said.

  “Have you been here before?” Barb asked.

  “No, we haven’t.”

  “Wow, an islander who is actually friendly,” Helene whispered to Kat.

  “Well, let me tell you a little bit about our island history,” she smiled. Kat thought the woman looked genuinely excited to have someone to talk to. “We don’t get a lot of visitors this time of year. Most of the folks who come over here in the fall come to hunt or fish. They usually don’t have much interest in the museums.”

  Barb handed John a brochure and continued talking. “This museum is on the National Register, was built in 1850 by the followers of King James Strang, and was first used as a print shop.”

  “I’m sorry, but did you say King James Strang?” Patrick asked.

  “Yes, James Strang created America’s only kingdom, right here on Beaver Island. Strang was a Mormon leader who brought his colony here in 1848. By 1850, most of the non-Mormons had left the island. The power soon went to Strang’s head, and he had himself crowned king. Strang was shot and killed in 1856, and his people were driven from the Island by an angry mob that had come over from Mackinac Island,” Barb said. She began walking forward as though she were giving a guided tour. She motioned to one of the displays.