by R. D. Brady
Mary Eastly, Rebecca's younger sister by only a few years, added another thick branch to the fire. “The weather will keep people indoors. And you need the warmth.”
Sarah couldn’t deny it. She let Rebecca lead her over, her toes and fingers tingling painfully as the heat hit them.
Rebecca ran a hand through Sarah’s hair. “You cannot continue this way. You and your family should come stay with me.”
Sarah shook her head. “No. There is too much at stake.”
Rebecca paused her eyes narrowing. “What have you seen?”
“A great deal.” Sarah hesitated, once again trying to find any other interpretation for her vision and failing. They had prepared for this moment but at the same time she still could not believe it was here. But ignoring an incoming storm did not make it disappear. It only made the damage worse. “I believe the Council may know the book is here.”
Rebecca gasped. “But how?”
The visions of the last few days flew through her mind. At first, the images had been so abstract she hadn’t been sure what to make of them. But the feeling that accompanied them had been clear—dread. And today, the final vision had clarified the picture in terrifying detail. “I don’t know. But they will stop at nothing to get it. We cannot let that happen.”
Mary shook her head. “We knew this time would come, ever since the witch trials in England.”
Sarah growled. “Witch trials. Stupid people. Persecutions are what they were. According to them, witches are supposed to walk on their hands, ride hyenas, and had pregnancies that lasted for three years. While I admit pregnancy does seem to last for three years, do you truly think those poor women were seen riding hyenas? Those poor people were all killed just to get to us.”
“Some of our sisters were caught up as well,” Rebecca said quietly.
“I have no doubt.” Sarah closed her eyes, weariness falling over her. The babe had been moving a lot today. Her feet ached, and since the vision, a chill had fallen over her skin that the fire’s warmth couldn’t seem to penetrate. The cold she felt was dwarfed by the knowledge that everything they and their sisters had spent generations protecting was now at risk.
And Sarah knew she was not overemphasizing that risk. She was not known to worry about much, despite the fact that hers had not been an easy life. When her first husband had died, she’d been left with debts and children. The children were a blessing, the debts a curse. One that followed her into her second marriage. Daniel was not a bad man, but he was not a good one either. And working a full day was a rarity for him. She knew the more you suffered in this life the less likely you suffered in the next, but some days she wished there was a little less to endure now.
“So what do we do now? Do we move on?” Mary asked.
Sarah shook her head. “Where would we move to? The war has brought the boundary of the wild only sixty miles from here. There are not enough cities in this new country to get lost in, and outside the cities is too unsafe.”
“We are giving up?” Rebecca asked.
“No. That is not an option either. But they will come for us.”
“You’ve seen it?” Mary asked.
“Just glimpses. I know we are in for a dangerous time. A darkness is spreading. It will cover Salem, snuffing out its light. We must prepare.”
Rebecca shared a glance with Mary. “Then we will call all the sisters.”
Sarah nodded. “Tomorrow. Meg will let them know. We must plan.”
Mary’s hand flew to her throat. “That soon?”
“I’m afraid there is no time to lose.” Sarah looked at her two sisters of the soul. She had seen more in her visions, but they would provide her two sisters nothing but heartache and fear. Sarah would carry that burden alone. Knowing what she had seen would not stop what was coming. “Tomorrow. We meet tomorrow.”
Mary placed an arm around Sarah’s shoulders. “You are still chilled through.”
Sarah leaned in to her warmth. “I cannot seem to warm today.”
“Let me help you.” Mary began to rub her arms, and Rebecca placed her shawl across Sarah’s legs. Sarah closed her eyes, lest they see the tears gathering there. Her sisters would not survive what was to come.
Neither would she.
But for this one moment, she would let herself enjoy the ministrations of her sisters. Because Mother knew, soon the memory of this moment of love would be all she had to cling to.
CHAPTER 5
The lights to Reverend Samuel Parris’s home were shining brightly as he hustled down the street. He’d been meeting with the town council to discuss the new rules. Refugees were pouring in from the French War and the village was struggling under the new burden. That, plus the ever-lingering Indian threat, had set the town on edge.
Samuel knew he was here to guide this flock and show them the way to righteousness. But he couldn’t help but think he had some greater purpose than this. A man of his pious nature and adherence to God’s rule was meant for more than small-town life.
The night was unusually cool and he was not dressed for it. Shapes moved beyond the front window of his home, and he frowned. Ann Putnam and Mercy Lewis had been over to see the girls earlier, but they should have been long gone by now. And his slave Tituba was not supposed to be in the parlor. That just left his daughter and niece, who was staying with him.
He glared at the offending shadows, his anger rising. If they were still up, they would learn again never to violate his rules. He picked up his pace. As he grabbed the door handle, his other hand was already curled into a fist. Girls needed to be kept in line, lest they become wanton. And no girls under his roof were going to go down that road. He grabbed the staff he kept by the front door. It was only as wide as his thumb, just like the Bible required.
Tituba flew out of the parlor. Her dark skin was slick with perspiration, her hands moving agitatedly. Her Caribbean accent was still pronounced, even though she had been taken from her homeland as a child. “Reverend, thank goodness. Come quick! Come quick!”
Normally such an outburst would earn her a censure, but there was something about her words tonight. He quickly followed her into the parlor. His nine-year-old daughter Betty sat on the couch staring straight ahead. Her eleven-year-old cousin Abigail Williams sat next to her. Neither moved. Neither stirred.
He stopped still with a frown. “What happened?”
“I do not know, master. They came downstairs. Said they could not sleep. I went to get them milk. When I came back I found them like this. I cannot get them to speak to me.”
“Betty! Abigail! Look at me!” Neither girl moved.
He reached down and shook Betty. She jerked away from him and slid to the floor, where she began to shake. Abigail slid next to her, also shaking. Then the screams began.
Tituba backed away, her hands in front of her. “The Devil is in them.”
The reverend backed away as well, making the sign of the cross. He stared at his daughter and niece as they shook, drool dripping from their mouths. The girls continued to scream, their bodies contorting in unnatural shapes.
“What should we do for them, sir? How do we stop it?” Tituba asked.
But while Tituba’s words became more panicked, a calm settled over Samuel. This was why he had been sent to Salem. God had known what He was doing, as He always did. He had wanted His soldier Samuel here for this moment. This evil had made a mistake coming to his home.
Tituba grabbed his arm. “Sir, what should we do?”
Samuel shrugged her off, wiping his arm as if to remove the stain of her offending touch. “We will do nothing. But I will find the Devil hiding in Salem.”
And then Samuel smiled, for now his purpose here was clear.
CHAPTER 6
It had been difficult for each of the sisters to get away, but they had all managed. Now Sarah looked around at the group. Susan Osbourne, Rebecca Nurse, Mary Eastly, Elizabeth Proctor, Martha Carrier, Martha Cory, and their youngest member, Meg Jacobs.
&
nbsp; In the streets, each would turn up their nose at Sarah Goode, her role as little more than a town beggar demanding it. But here, here the true nature of her role in this world was respected. Each woman looked to Sarah with unquestioning faith and love. She was their leader and had been these last ten years.
Sarah had led celebrations but also their education. Learning for women was strictly forbidden in Salem, but for the Followers, it was a requirement. Some had been able to hide their skills well, like Martha Cory, who was a shining example of Puritan femininity. But others, such as Sarah, struggled with the submissive role she was forced to play.
But here, with one another, they could be themselves. Sarah’s gaze shifted to Meg. Her large hazel eyes dominated her pale face. Her brown hair was tucked away in her bonnet. There was an air of frailness around her which helped her in the Puritan community but which secretly worried Sarah. The time heading towards them would be difficult, but she feared it would be most difficult for Meg. She was quiet, taking after her father rather than her independent mother and grandmother. A great deal would be asked of her. Sarah prayed she was up to the task.
Sarah stood by the fire, and despite the danger she knew was coming, the weight on her shoulders lessening slightly at the sight of her true family. “Good morrow, sisters.”
“Good morrow, Sister Sarah,” they replied in unison.
Meg met her gaze and Sarah gave her a small smile. “How are you this evening, Meg?”
“I am well, Sister.”
“And your grandfather?”
“His arthritis still pains him, but the remedy you gave him eases it. Thank you.”
Sarah nodded. The arts of healing had been handed down from sister to sister. The Great Mother had been a great healer as well, sharing her skills to all who needed it. But in this time, they could only share the skills amongst themselves lest others question how they had gained their knowledge. But only occasionally they aided those outside the sisterhood when it could be done quietly. And besides Meg’s grandfather was all she had left now. Easing his pain eased Meg’s as well, which made the risk well worth it as far as Sarah was concerned. “I’m glad. I have made some more for you to take with you tonight.”
“Thank you, Sister.”
Sarah nodded, turning her attention back to the whole group. She knew the faces in front of her as well as her own. She knew their hopes, fears, loves and dreams. But now Sarah’s own visions overshadowed all of that. Because none of their wants mattered at this moment. At this moment, the Great Mother could be lost to history unless they took steps. Steeling herself for what she needed to say, she began.
“My sisters, as followers of the Great Mother, we know the world can be a cruel place. We know that women have lost their standing in societies across the globe. We are little more than the bearers of children and the keepers of the hearth. But our heritage shows how we are more than that. We are the beacons of the future. The keeper of the Great Mother’s legacy.”
She met Rebecca and Mary’s gaze, and they each nodded at her, their hands clasped. Strengthened by the faith in their gaze, she straightened her shoulders. “A darkness is coming and bringing with it an old foe."
There was a gasp across the room but no one asked who the foe was. They all knew. Each member was told the true history of the Fallen angels in this world. They knew of their strengths and skills, as well as how they would live their lives over and over again. Fighting the Fallen was never an option, at least not physically. No the only way to truly fight them was mentally. They could be not be outrun but they could be outsmarted.
Martha Cory frowned, her delicate pert nose turning up with the action.
"What do they want?"
"The book," Sarah said.
The silence was deafening and then voices rang out all at once.
"It's not possible."
"How do they know?"
"But it is safe."
Rebecca stood up. "Sisters, sisters, let Sarah finish."
Sarah nodded her thanks suddenly feeling exhausted. She sat down on the bench, her hand on her back. "We have always known their is a great secret with the tome of the Great Mother. I fear it is this secret the Fallen are seeking. It must not fall into their grasp, even when we fall into their grasp."
“What do you mean, Sarah? How will we be caught? The Fallen do not take our kind. They kill them,” Martha Cory asked.
“That is true. But it is not their strength we need to fear this time. I cannot see exactly what they have planned, but it will be dangerous for all of us." She paused, taking a breath as her stomach rolled. She wasn't sure if it was due to the babe or the topic. "But we must move forward. We must make preparations to preserve the Mother’s legacy in case we do not survive.”
Elizabeth gasped. “Surely it won’t come to that.”
“Not all of us will survive this.” Sarah hesitated, not sure if she should reveal the truth, but deciding they had a right to know. “I’m not sure any of us will. And we must prepare.”
Shock splashed across each of the faces of the woman. More than one hand flew to a mouth. Other hands reached for the hand of the one next to them. Even in their terror, they leaned to one another for strength. Sarah gave them a moment for the revelation to sink in, for the path before them to become clear. One by one, they straightened their backs, their strength returning to their gaze. Even Meg, who still looked terrified, met Sarah’s gaze. Sarah had never been so proud of her sisters. Here they stood on the precipice of their worst fears, and yet no one ran. No one asked for a way out. And in that moment, Sarah desperately wanted to find a way to spare these women what was to come. They deserved so much better than what this world had offered them. And so much more than what it was about to deal them.
But that is not in my power. And that is not the plan for us. Great Mother, please give us the strength to face what is to come.
“So what do we do?” Beth Proctor asked.
“We continue as we have. Live your lives. Love your children. Obey your husbands. None of that must change. Do nothing to draw attention to yourselves.” Sarah knew they did not need that warning. Their lives had been spent in hiding. They knew how to follow the rules. “But there is one step that must be taken if the worst occurs. If we begin to fall—” She took a breath. “The last of us must hide the book.”
The woman began to speak all it once. “We cannot move it.”
“We have kept it hidden for good reason.”
“It is already hidden.”
“Sister, we cannot—”
Sarah put up a hand and they fell quiet once again. “That is only if the worst happens. The Great Mother’s legacy must be protected. It is our duty. The world will need her if it is to move out of this time of shadow.”
“You said the last is to move it, but move it where?” Rebecca asked. “And for who? If there are none of us left, who will carry on?”
“We have to believe that there are other Followers hidden away in the world as we are. And one day, someone will come looking. That I am sure of.”
“Where will we hide it, though?” Martha Cory asked.
“Somewhere no one will ever think to look for it, except for one of the Followers,” Rebecca said.
“Where?” Martha Cory asked.
“With the one of us who falls first,” Sarah said quietly.
A gasp spread across the room. Meg’s voice burst. “But perhaps what you’ve seen doesn’t have to come to pass. Perhaps if we hold our tongues, keep our heads down—”
“We cannot avoid what is to come.” Sarah smiled at Meg, trying to soften the harshness of her words. Sarah had always thought of Meg as a daughter and had not tried to toughen her to the uglier sides of life. They all had, taking strength in the innocence and purity of their youngest member. Now Sarah worried that kindness had been selfish. It had given the sisters joy to protect her, but she feared it had not prepared Meg for what was to come. But there was no changing it now.
"Even if w
e were pillars of the community, as many of you already are, the future will still come. Besides, I have never fit in. Knowing who I have been before this life has made the restrictions of this life unbearable. And I cannot and will not hide who I am. I will not pretend to be meek and simpleminded to make those who are meek and simpleminded feel better, especially not with my last days.”
Rebecca laid a hand on her shoulder. “But you set a target on your back.”
Sarah reached up and grasped it. “That target was placed there a long time ago. And we know that it is not this life that matters, but the next.”
“And our children?” Mary asked.
“We prepare them the best we can. There can be no other way.” Sarah took a deep breath. “Now I need each of you to swear that you will protect the book, protect the Great Mother's legacy and the knowledge she brings at all costs.”
Each of the sisters looked around, their eyes wide. Then Rebecca stood. “For the Great Mother, I swear.”
Mary stood next to her. “For the Great Mother, I swear.”
Then, one by one, each of the women stood, giving their pledge, ending with Meg, whose voice could barely be heard.
Sarah nodded. “Thank you, Sisters. And may the Great Mother look over us.” She smiled, although inside her heart was breaking. For she knew it would not be long until all of these women were wiped from the world’s history.
Please give us the strength to face what is to come.
CHAPTER 7
Betty and Abigail had finally snapped out of their states after twenty minutes, but they had not been capable of speaking. Samuel carried them to bed, leaving Tituba with instructions to stay by their side and contact him as soon as they woke up.
Then he’d left for the church. He had an office in the back and made his way there. He went to his small bookshelf. He did not put much stock in reading. People who lost themselves in books were slothful as far as he was concerned, so all the titles here were relevant for his calling. He scanned the titles and pulled out Memorable Providences Relating to Witchcrafts and Possessions by Cotton Mather.
