The Belial Witches

by R. D. Brady

  Meg pushed herself to her feet, unsure what to do. She wanted to stand by her grandfather. To offer him the comfort he had provided her. But he would not want that because he knew she would not be able to stand quietly as he took his last breaths. And then she would endanger herself.

  “Where is the book?”

  Meg looked down at the demon standing next to her. “I will never tell you. I will die first.”

  Ann watched her quietly for a moment, sending a new chill through Meg. “Yes, I think you will,” she said quietly before walking away.

  CHAPTER 21

  The murmurs of the crowd that lined the street was muted, just a faint buzz of noise as Cotton walked toward Gallows Hill. Reverend Samuel Parrish was next to him, and ahead of them were the men to be hung today including the Reverend George Burroughs. To date, six witches had been put to death. For the first time since the trials began, however, it was men who would be hung.

  Cotton had been unable to attend the other executions, but he had wanted to see one live and in person. This one holds extra appeal, he thought as he glared at Reverend Burroughs’s back. He had never liked the man. His teachings were unorthodox, his manner too casual. Now he knew why. The Devil was in the man. Not only that, but he was the leader of the witches. The man should be burnt instead of hung.

  A crowd followed behind them and another already waited at the Hill. As soon as they caught sight of Burroughs, the cries began. “Mercy! Have mercy!”

  Cotton stared at them in shock. Did they not know who they had in their midst? The cries continued, an indecipherable yell, but every once in while a cry would rise up above the din.

  “Spare him! He is a man of God.”

  Cotton strode forward. They had gone too far. He held up his hands. “People, good people of Salem. Listen to me! Listen!”

  The crowd quieted to a murmur.

  Cotton glanced across the crowd. “The Devil is a tricky beast. He will hide behind the face of those you trust most. He will use the vestiges of even a reverend to lull you into his clutches. Do you wish for your children to be put into the Devil’s care?”

  He glared at Burroughs, who now stood on a chair, the noose around his neck, the executioner behind him. “Do not be fooled by this man’s past. He is a reverend no longer. The name of God is poison in his mouth. He cannot even stand to—”

  Burroughs glared right back at Cotton, not letting him look away. “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name . . . ”

  A gasp went up across the crowd as Burroughs continued to say the Lord’s prayer. Even Cotton was shaken. It should not be possible. The Lord’s words should burn on his tongue.

  "Blasphemous," Samuel cursed and Cotton could feel his anger.

  Burroughs finished the prayer calmly. “I am no demon. The Devil does not dwell within me.”

  Burroughs’s words rallied the crowd and they began to mutter. The executioner standing behind Burroughs glanced at Samuel, who nodded. He pushed Burroughs off the chair and the crowd gasped in horror.

  “We will lose them,” Samuel hissed in Cotton's ear. “Do something.”

  Cotton batted him away. He did not care for the reverend. The man was too single minded in his focus, almost a fanatic. But he was right about the crowd. Cotton stepped forward again and raised his voice to be heard clearly. “Good people of Salem. This is but a trick. Remember the Devil has often been transformed into an Angel of Light. Burroughs was no longer a man of God but a tool of Satan. What we do here today is God’s work.”

  The crowd quieted and Cotton continued to speak, reminding the crowd of the innocent victims and the true test of courage they now faced. The crowd finally calmed and the other four executions went off without any issues. Shortly thereafter, the crowds dispersed until only Cotton remained. He stared up at George Burroughs. He did not doubt his own words. The Devil could take the shape of a good man. But the words, how had Burroughs said the words?

  A wind blew, cutting through his clothes and sending a chill through him. He turned and headed for town, his head down.

  It was God’s work we did. God’s work.

  But even in his mind he heard the doubt underlying the words.

  CHAPTER 22

  Meg made her way home, the food in her basket no longer calling to her, her appetite gone. Grandfather. Tears streamed down her face, making it difficult to walk. In town, she could hear the crowd but she could not bring herself to watch, even though she had turned toward Gallows Hill and begun to walk more than once. But she had known if she had seen her grandfather, she would have been unable to stay silent. And his sacrifice would have been for nothing.

  The truth of that did not however ease the guilt and pain that curled through her with every step she took away from him. When she had seen her home on the distance, she'd begun to shake. By the time she had reached the door, she was trembling so hard she could barely get the door open. She'd just managed to stumble in before the sobs overtook her and she crashed to the floor. I can’t do this.

  She sat for hours on the floor as she shook and sobbed, until finally she just lay curled up, staring into space. She was the weakest of the Followers. She knew that. They all had known that. Sarah could have done this. Rebecca, Mary—any of them would have already hidden the book. They would have spat in Azazyel’s face. But she, Meg, was too terrified to move. Terrified of Azazyel, terrified that she would fail and be caught. Terrified that she simply wasn’t enough.

  Ann was watching the house. How was Meg supposed to get to the book without her knowing? She couldn’t lead her to it.

  Oh, sisters, I don’t want to fail you.

  Meg didn’t fear dying. At this point, it would be a blessing. She, the least worthy, had survived while the others had perished. And now she would fail them all. Meg curled up on the floor, indecision and impotence paralyzing her.

  I can’t do this. I can’t—

  “Of course you can.”

  Meg’s head shot up as Sarah took a seat at the table. “Sarah?”

  Sarah waved her over. “Come on. We don’t have a lot of time.”

  Meg scrambled to her feet and flung herself at Sarah. “You’re alive. You escaped.”

  Sarah shook her head. “No. child. I did not.”

  Meg pulled back. “But how?”

  “That is not the question you really want to ask, is it?”

  Meg shook her head. “There is a Fallen here. He has possessed Ann Putnam. I do not know how to get around him. He will stop me.”

  “No, he will not. You are stronger than he is.”

  “No, I am scared and weak.”

  “You cannot be brave without being scared. And you are not weak. You do not see yourself as I do. As we all do. You are a descendant of warriors. We all see that strength.”

  Tears blurred Meg’s vision. “I am not strong. I am going to fail you.”

  “You could never fail us, no matter the outcome. You have been taught by some of the greatest women. You know what to do. You just need to think it through. You have the answers. Your fear is just blocking them from your view.”

  “How do I look beyond it?

  “First, you look inside and see who you are, not who the world tells you you are. But who you truly know yourself to be. That is who will succeed. For she is magnificent.” Sarah’s eyes shone brightly.

  “I miss you. I miss all of you.”

  “We are always with you. Your sisters have never left you. They stand beside you wherever you go. We are one.”

  “We are one,” Meg repeated as a rumble of thunder rolled across the sky.

  Meg’s head jerked up from her spot by the door.

  We are one. The words floated through her mind as she glanced over at the empty chair by the table. Sadness fell over her. It was just a dream. But she realized that wasn’t true, either. It wasn’t just a dream. It was a visit.

  Meg stood up, resolve filling her. One way or another, she was going to end this tonight. She picked up her ba
sket and moved to the table, pulling out the food she had picked up earlier.

  First, I need a good meal to strengthen me. And then I need a plan.

  CHAPTER 23

  Sarah’s visit had renewed Meg. But as darkness began to fall, so too did her resolve, and that was when Benjamin Nurse and his son brought her grandfather home. They’d taken him to the family cemetery and begun digging. Good manners dictated that Meg go outside and offer them a drink, but she could not bring herself to face them. She could not bear to see the pity, anger, or accusation in their eyes.

  But once they had left, she stepped quietly outside. And even though it was not cold, she felt a chill over her skin. She walked slowly to the family plot and pushed open the gate. They had buried him next to her grandmother. He would like that, she thought with a small smile. But the image of her grandfather when she’d last seen him tore through her. He was gone. He had been her strength. She stumbled toward the newly dug grave. She collapsed on top of it, her legs no longer able to support her.

  I did this to you. Then the memories of the horror since all this began fell over her and she sobbed and sobbed, not sure if she would ever be able to stop. They were all dead. Her grandfather was dead by her hand, or close enough. Even poor Reverend Burroughs.

  The dark finally sent her back inside, but Meg did not turn on any lights. She sat in the dark and thought of her sisters, her mother, her grandmother. She let the lessons they had taught her wash over her and let herself grieve for them. She even fell asleep for a little while, curled up next to the cold fireplace. And when she had awoken, the remnants of a dream stayed with her. It was from a lesson Rebecca had taught her from the book. She sat there in the dark thinking in through. Is it possible? She was not sure if it would work but she would try. She could think of no other way to stop this blight.

  She reached up into the fireplace and felt for the loose brick. Pulling it free, she let the brick drop before reaching in and pulling out the cloth. Pulling back the layers, she felt the design of the pendant lying there—two intertwined triangles. She slipped the necklace over her neck and grabbed her grandfather’s satchel from the cupboard.

  Before she could allow the doubts to creep in, she slipped from the house. She did not know if Ann was nearby watching her. She hoped she was. The sooner she could confront her the sooner this would all end, one way or the other.

  Meg hurried down the road and then carefully cut across the field that bordered the Nurse plantation. Her heart clutched at the thought of Rebecca, but she shoved it aside. I will grieve later, she promised herself.

  She walked beyond the border of Rebecca’s land and into the wild forest that bordered it. Her steps slowed as the way became more difficult. She stepped over a downed tree and her dress ripped on an extended branch. She yanked it from the snare and heard it rip, but she pushed on, not even bothering to examine the damage.

  Ahead, the cave loomed, and Meg went still. She pulled the candle and flint from her satchel. Bringing up a flame quickly, she lit the candle. A soft glow embraced the surrounding area but also darkened the shadows beyond the light’s reach.

  She swallowed. I will not be afraid. She repeated the words over and over as she made her way to the cave. She only let herself pause for a moment at its entrance before stepping quickly inside. The flame cast dancing shadows along the long, narrow cave’s walls. She hurried as quickly as she dared with the dim light. Three hundred feet in she stopped at a protuberance that caused one to crouch. She ducked under and then placed the candle on the ground. Reaching up, she strained to reach the small empty space hidden behind the rock face.

  Come on.

  Stretching as far as she could, her shoulder beginning to ache with the effort, her fingers touched canvas bag. She reached in and pulled it out. Then she stretched up again and pulled out a long, thin piece of wire. Grasping her finds to her chest, she sat on the ground, brushing at the dirt until three small holes were revealed.

  Meg emptied the contents of the bag into her hand. She straightened the rope, and three L-shaped pieces of metal glinted back at her. Meg slid each piece of metal into the longer piece and locked them in place.

  She lined the long metal piece over the holes and inserted the smaller leg into the three holes. She pushed down and right until the lock clicked in place. Rotating the metal rod to the left, she felt the covering give way. Shifting to a crouch, she pulled the circular covering off and placed it to the side.

  With a trembling breath, she peered into the small recess that had been hidden. A burlap sack lay there and she let out a breath. She pulled it out with trembling hands.

  She had never been the one to remove the book, although she had watched the others with awe when they had done so. She missed them so much in that moment and felt so alone. I will see them soon. Reaching inside the sack, she felt the edges of the box. Pulling it out, the candlelight reflected off the ivory box, causing sparkles of light to shoot across the space.

  Despite the horror of the last few days and months, she smiled. It looked magical. And she remembered when she’d first seen it. She had been sure she had never seen anything more beautiful. She ran a hand over the box, tracing some of the scenes from the Great Mother’s many lives.

  Then she opened the box, and inside lay the Tome of the Great Mother. Meg just stared for a moment at the unassuming brown leather cover before reaching in with a trembling hand and pulling it out. Flipping it open, the plain cover gave way to intricately designed pages. Drawings, first in color then black and white, adorned each page. The words on the first few pages she could not read. Sarah had planned on teaching her in the next few years.

  Meg took a breath at the stab of fresh grief that rolled through her. Not the time, she reminded herself as she continued to flip, looking for a specific page.

  Her eyes finally landed on it. Susan had shown her this page two years ago, when Meg had been officially inducted into the Followers. All inductees were shown the book and taught its lessons, as well as being shown its hiding place. This page had not held Meg’s interest. She had been more intrigued by the tales of the Great Mother’s various incarnations. But now she greedily read through it, squinting and shifting to make out the words in the dim light.

  She read the page five times, committing it to memory before she closed the book. Carefully placing the book back in its box, she placed it in the sack it had been hidden in and then placed that in her satchel. Looping the satchel over her head, she stood, stumbling a little under the weight of the it.

  Picking up the candle, she made her way to the entrance, her mind reciting everything from the page. She paused in her ruminations as she stepped from the cave and listened, but she heard no sounds.

  No sounds at all.

  A tickle of fear breathed across her neck. And then Ann stepped into the light of the candle.

  “There you are.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Even though she had been expecting her, the sight of Ann still terrified Meg. She knew who she was now, what she was. She pictured Tituba and the other girl accusers.

  Oh, girls, if only you hadn’t played with things beyond your comprehension.

  But she supposed she couldn’t blame them. Women in Salem led such rigid lives, with little chance for adventure, curiosity, or even happiness. She could see why the dark arts would appeal to them. Something dangerous, something forbidden.

  But the cost of that rebellion had been cast in blood. And now, all my sisters are gone, Meg thought, staring at the beast in a familiar face. And I will be joining them soon enough.

  Ann hopped further into the circle of light and twirled around. “I had forgotten how enjoyable these bodies are. You feel everything—the wind on your skin, the scents of fresh bread, and the emotions. It’s amazing.”

  “You have never felt emotions before?”

  “I have. But before we fell, there were none save envy. Envy of you apes and your freedoms. But I can appreciate those emotions now. They height
en everything. Why, these last few months have brought me such joy; it has been hard to contain.” She straightened out her skirt. “Of course, I can laugh out loud and everyone will think the Devil made me do it. It is freeing.”

  “What do you want, Azazyel?”

  “Why, that little book you have hidden in the satchel, of course. It is practically singing to me.”

  Meg shook her head. “I will not give it to you.”

  Ann smiled. “Of course you will. You traded your own grandfather for your freedom. You are not the type to sacrifice yourself. Now hand it over before I feel the need to point a finger at you.”

  Meg clutched the satchel to her. “They will not believe you. I have been freed.”

  “So was Rebecca. And then they changed their minds. The only reason you were let go was so you would retrieve the book for me.”

  “Why do you want it so much? What is so important about it for you?”

  “That is not your concern.”

  Meg tilted her head, studying the beast in front of her. “You’re scared of it. Something in this book terrifies you.”

  Ann’s eyes became narrow slits. “I am done with this conversation. Hand over the book or pay the consequences.”

  Meg trembled at the venom in her tone. “All right. But you promise, I will go free?”

  Ann smiled. “Of course. You help me and I shall help you.”

  Meg gripped the satchel, the legacy she and her sisters had sacrificed for eons to protect. And all of that preparation had come to this one moment. It had come down to Meg.

  The responsibility of this moment and the fear was almost overwhelming.

  I am not worthy of making this choice, she thought desperately.

  Ann took a small step forward as if approaching a wounded animal. “Come now, Meg. We can end all of this right now. You do not want this burden. You have never wanted it. And why should you? In the name of a woman long dead, whom you will never meet? Who does not care about you? No. Live your life, Meg. Live it free of this burden. Embrace what life has to offer.”