Summerwind Magick: Making Witches of Salem

by Rick Bettencourt

  “What the hell’s he reading?” She cupped her hands around her face and tried to peer in further.

  Derek lay down on the bed. He held the book up with one hand. She couldn’t see the other.

  She wiped another frosty breath from the window and squinted.

  He flipped onto his stomach, and the book fell to the bed.

  Rebecca ducked. She heard some mumbling and after a moment slowly eased herself up to the sill. She attempted to read the cover of the book beside him on the bed. “Multi-orgasmic something.”

  Derek opened the nightstand and pulled out a stopwatch.

  “Huh? He’s timing himself…masturbating?” Her shoulders shook with stifled laughter.

  In a blur, the blankets tumbled, and she caught a glimpse of taut naked buttocks. A snicker cut through her pursed mouth.

  A knock at Derek’s door filtered through, and the man froze, as did Rebecca.

  “What!” Derek pulled his head out from under the comforter.

  “Are you awake in there?” Food’s voice squeaked from behind the door.

  “What the fuck do you want?” Derek shoved his book under the pillow.

  “The roof is leaking. In the living room. Near the TV.”

  “Jesus Christ!” Derek rolled over onto his back, grabbed the blankets around him, and got up.

  The door opened. Food walked in.

  “Did I say you could come in?” Derek barked and combed a hand through his dark hair.

  “It’s not my fault the roof is leaking again. God, you’re always so angry.”

  “I know it’s not your fucking fault, you freak.” Derek grabbed his jeans from the floor and scooched them on under the blanket.

  “It should be patched.” Food pushed back a strand of greasy hair from his acned face.

  Derek dropped the blanket and grabbed the shirt he threw at Food earlier.

  Food took a bite of a chocolate bar.

  With his back turned to his roommate, Derek adjusted his private parts. “All right, let’s take a look.”

  Rebecca’s eyes widened.

  “Us?” Food said. “I’m in my pajamas. It’s snowing out.”

  Derek shook his head and left the bedroom.

  As Rebecca heard him step onto the front porch, she ran into the woods and followed the path back to the inn.

  When she crested an embankment with the inn in clear sight, she took the grocery bag of empty medicine packages from her coat pocket and shoved it under an overturned dory.

  Carolyn couldn’t sleep.

  She looked out the third-floor window of her room—out to the rock cropping and cliff below. Underneath the light of the moon, the ocean glimmered like a mirage. To the east stood a café with its windows boarded up. Dodger loved its aged look and had rewritten the script to become Marigold’s cottage.

  Carolyn caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window. In its distortion, it smacked of Seth Stevenson, the bully from high school, and she shuddered. “You’re not real!”

  All these years and he still woke her from sleep with nightmares. She forced herself to stare back at the illusion to break it. “You’re mind trickery.” Soon, her anxiety faded. In his place, she saw her reflection, smiled, and was pleased that she didn’t succumb to fear as she often did.

  She started back to bed. “Perhaps I’m making progress after—” Out of the corner of her eye, an image appeared in the window. Again, it felt as if someone were in the room. She gasped and turned around to look at the door, where she expected to see an intruder. Nothing. Her heart raced.

  “It’s okay.” She went to the window and rested palms on the sill. Cool air cut through the glass, and she saw Rebecca walking away from an overturned boat.

  The Enhancement Enchantment

  Rebecca pulled the blinds up, and the morning sun flashed into the Islesford room—decorated in blue and white. The chenille curtains—ones that Viola told Rebecca she got back in 1978—were puckered in a series of faded blue fleurs-de-lis that merged into a yellowed-from-age background.

  “I saw a seal out on Egg Rock this morning,” Rebecca said to Berniece, who still lay under the covers of her twin bed, with its pitted-in-rust white metal headboard. It matched Rebecca’s already-made bed.

  Berniece peeked her head out from under the blankets, groaned, and pulled the comforter up and under her chin. “This place is freezing. Don’t they have heat?”

  “Well, maybe if you got your lazy ass out of bed and moved those bones, you wouldn’t be so cold.” Rebecca turned back to the window. “So cute…the seal. I saw it while I was out smoking.”

  “Girl, you gotta quit that shit.”

  Rebecca looked out the window at Viola’s house. “They’re still filming. They started Carolyn’s scene around five this morning and have yet to finish.” She turned to face Berniece. “I don’t see what all the glamour is about being an actress. All they do is sit around and wait for the lighting, wait for the cameraman, wait for Carolyn to get her lines…how boring.”

  Berniece sat up. “Good Lord, she still ain’t getting her lines right? She gonna be the death of this picture.”

  “I still think it can be a classic.” Rebecca jumped onto Berniece’s bed, and the woman jiggled. “It’s so…so Salem.” She leaned into Berniece. “And just think…we’re a part of it! And Carolyn almost looks like Elizabeth Montgomery.”

  “You and I know she’s perfect for the role. And I got Julia wrapped around my finger.” She held out her pinkie. “She thinks I cured that assistant from his pukes. Little did she know I just stopped slipping ipecac and laxatives into his Gatorade.” Berniece smirked.

  Rebecca leaned back on her palm. “Yes, I know.” She still fumed about learning of the incident. “That reminds me. I hid your empty bottles and laxative packages out back under the boat. We can bring them to the mainland later.”

  Berniece fussed with her hair. “Good idea. Julia so believes that the filming is cursed.” She threw back the covers and put her feet to the floor. “First Emily Litchfield’s death…not that we had nothing to do with that, poor thing…now this sickness. Oh, and she just loves to confide in me ’bout Jonathan Dodger.” Berniece cocked her head Rebecca’s way. “You know she be doing him six days to Sunday? Yet I think that man be a flaming homa-sexual…or bi.”

  “What!” Rebecca’s head jerked back. “Why do you think that? And it’s six ways not six—”

  “The things she tells me makes wonder. Catching him in California with a young actor with his shirt off, while supposedly rehearsing lines at his house. She just loving me.” Berniece held up her pinkie finger and circled her other hand around it. “Got her right here.”

  Rebecca rose and went to the window. “Well, I’m glad you talked her into letting us come up here. Despite the boringness of making a movie, I actually kinda like it here.”

  The bed’s springs squeaked as Berniece got up. “Once I told her about the Loni Hodge curse, she scared shit to let us go.” Berniece scratched a laugh. “The ipecac clenched—”

  Rebecca spun. “Enough of that.” She leaned against the sill. “So, what are we going to do about Carolyn?” She folded her arms. “She can’t ruin this picture—and I know she can make it great.”

  Berniece clicked open her suitcase. “Where’s my hairbrush?”

  Rebecca walked over to Berniece’s nightstand, grabbed her brush from it, and handed it to her. “No ipecac or laxatives for Carolyn, though,” Rebecca said. “I like her too much. Maybe that dweeb assistant deserved it. After all, he did make fun of Carolyn—said she looked like a horse and sang like one, too.”

  “Like Mister Ed?” Berniece chuckled. “I used to love that show.”

  “It’s not funny. Some of Dodger’s followers are just downright mean. Did you see that idiot, the one you gave the pills to, staring at Carolyn’s breasts?”

  Berniece slapped the brush into the palm of her hand in a small series of taps. “Hmm. We just gotta get her to loosen up. She’s too
tight.”

  Rebecca sat down on Berniece’s bed. “Her boobs are too tight?” She looked at her chest and frowned. “I know. And she’s never even had surg—”

  “No, no.” Berniece brushed her hair. “Her chakras. Her chakras need to be freed. We’re real witches, right?”

  Rebecca shrugged.

  Berniece threw the brush back down on her nightstand. “Well, let’s do some real magic.” She headed for the door.

  Rebecca followed. “Now you’re talking.”

  “First off,” Berniece said, “all this talk about laxatives…that bathroom free down the hall?”

  That evening, at a small table in the lounge of the Summerwind Inn, Berniece sat wearing a pink hooded sweatshirt with ARMY written across the chest. Rebecca sat across from her—in a tight red sweater and a pair of jeans, in contrast to her usual garments of black—and looked at her watch. Berniece tapped the rim of her still-full glass of wine.

  Filming had wrapped for the day. The sun had set.

  The lounge—a small room to the left of the inn’s lobby—had become a beehive for end-of-the-day socializing. From behind a mahogany bar, Viola’s handyman Dave poured Scotch and passed it to Jonathan Dodger.

  Berniece picked up her wineglass. “Them Hollywood folk sure like to drink.”

  “Where is she?” Rebecca swirled her chardonnay and worried Carolyn would think they were looney tunes for wanting to perform a confidence spell on her.

  Viola entered, lugging a couple quarts of Jack Daniel’s. Dave ran to her and took them.

  “She’ll be here,” Berniece said. “She’s probably just freshening up from a god-awful, dreary day of filming.”

  Rebecca smiled at Viola.

  “You and that old lady are certainly hitting it off well,” Berniece said.

  “I like her. She’s very nice.”

  “You saving her from the grim reaper?” Berniece put her wineglass back down.

  “Funny.” Rebecca grinned. She’d stopped talking about her vision, for fear people would think she was crazy. It was just stress anyway.

  Finally, Carolyn came, carrying a case of wine. Dave hurried out from behind the bar, but Carolyn beat him to it and placed the box on a table. “Just helping Viola out.” She winked and walked over to Rebecca and Berniece.

  Berniece stood up. “They got you bar backing, too?” She pulled a seat out for Carolyn.

  Carolyn laughed and sat down. “The boat just came in. They’re loading up the kitchen.”

  “Well, you look all refreshed,” Rebecca said.

  Carolyn pulled her seat in. “Amazing what a shower will do for you after thirteen hours of filming.” She sighed. “Exhausting day.”

  A lanky PA, in his early twenties, came over with a glass of pinot grigio for Carolyn. “Oh,” she said. “Thank you, Charlie.” He smiled at her and backed away.

  The girls clinked glasses and drank.

  “Carolyn,” Berniece started, “you know we witches, right?” She put her glass down.

  Carolyn swallowed her wine. “Yeah?”

  “We’d like to help,” Rebecca added.

  Carolyn put her glass on the table. “Okay, how do I fit in?”

  “Well,” Berniece said, as Jonathan Dodger slugged back a shot, “there’s some not-so-good people on set.”

  Over her shoulder, Carolyn glanced. “Oh, yeah. He’s got quite the reputation. He goes in waves—ebbs and flows like the Atlantic tide.”

  Berniece strummed her fingers on the windowsill. “We were hoping you could help us out, too.” She put her elbows on the table and, with clasped hands, rested her chin on a knuckle. “You see, we trying to get into the Loni Hodge coven back in Salem…but we need a good spell, or three, to really prove our worth.”

  Looking back and forth between the witches, Carolyn said, “Loni? Isn’t she the lady who you said cursed the Salem production?”

  “Yeah, that’s her,” Berniece said.

  Carolyn folded her arms across her chest. “Why do you want to be in her coven?”

  Berniece picked up her wineglass. “Well, she’s really popular within the community. She’s the witch of all witches in Salem.” She swirled her glass, imitating Rebecca.

  “And how am I gonna help?” Carolyn asked.

  Rebecca leaned into the table. “We’d like to…to cast a spell on you,” she said, to Carolyn now pushing back her chair, and added, “A good one…a good one.” Rebecca held up her hand. “It’ll make you more confident.”

  “No harm,” Berniece said. “Promise!” She placed a hand across the ARMY wording of her sweatshirt.

  Rebecca doubted their ability to perform a legitimate spell—all the others they’d done felt more like make pretend. Carolyn’s pulling away heightened the witch’s lack of confidence. “It’s just for fun.” Her monotone spoke of indifference toward the idea. “It helps us practice.” Nothing’ll come of it anyway. She huffed.

  Carolyn cocked her head. “Okay.”

  “Really?” Rebecca’s head pulled back.

  Carolyn sank back her wine. “What the hell.”

  Berniece’s white teeth beamed.

  Jonathan Dodger, with Julia in tow carrying a blush-colored martini, walked over. He threw a stack of papers onto the table in front of Carolyn and nearly toppled the wine.

  Berniece grabbed her glass. “Easy, soldier!”

  Jonathan glared at her. “I see you’re the new drill sergeant.”

  Placing her hands on the table, Berniece grinned. “The only one drilling is—”

  “Bernie!” Rebecca said and turned to Jonathan. “Mr. Dodger, we were just leaving. Is there something we can help you with?”

  He looked at Carolyn and, with his chin, pointed to the script on the table. “Changes. Memorize them.” He stomped off, and Julia followed.

  Carolyn rolled her eyes, pushed the pages away, and guzzled down the rest of her wine. “Okay, girls, I’m all yours. Let’s do this.”

  Berniece held her stomach and couldn’t stop laughing. “No more! No more!”

  Rebecca and Carolyn lay on the floor in fits of mirth, tears streaming down their cheeks.

  An empty sauvignon blanc bottle rolled across the uneven hardwood floor and disappeared beneath Berniece’s bed.

  “Cut it out! Enough…I can’t breathe!” Carolyn laughed louder.

  Tears rolled down Berniece’s face as she continued to laugh in stops and starts. “I can’t…I don’t think I can stop!” Her whiskey laugh turned into a cough.

  Now on her knees, Rebecca clenched her stomach. She knew she shouldn’t have told them about catching Derek masturbating in his cabin, but after a few drinks, it all came out.

  The girls’ cackles subsided into small bursts.

  “Oh my God.” Carolyn sniffled and wiped tears from her eyes. “I haven’t laughed that hard in years.” She snickered and started up again. “And he humped the mattress?”

  “Wooo! Man!” Berniece’s voice caught on the back of her throat. “And he used a stopwatch?” She hacked.

  “I shouldn’t have told you guys.” Rebecca stifled a laugh. She felt embarrassed for sharing her Peeping-Jane incident.

  “No more.” Carolyn steadied herself as she got up and raised a hand as if to stop the hilarity. “All this wine. I have to pee.” She stood over them with her hands on her hips. “And y’all know I have a tendency to pull off an accident.”

  They cackled once again as Carolyn shook her head and opened the door to the hall.

  Berniece picked up her wineglass and said to Carolyn, “It’s one of those little tiny stalls, down the hall and to the left.”

  Carolyn nodded and left the room. “I feel a little publicity stunt coming on.”

  They howled.

  Once the actress left, Rebecca sat up and wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. “Oh, goodness.” She exhaled. “I think I’m actually having a good time.”

  Berniece giggled.

  “So, what d’ya think?” Rebecca asked.<
br />
  “’Bout?”

  “Carolyn?”

  “She’s a lightweight. I can’t believe she’s never had no more than two full glasses of wine…ever!”

  Rebecca looked back at the door. “She needs it. It’ll loosen her up.”

  While they waited for Carolyn, they rose from the floor and moved to the couch opposite their twin beds.

  When Carolyn reentered, she closed the bedroom door behind her and smiled. “I made it. No need to call the press.”

  They chuckled.

  Carolyn sat down on the chair next to the couch. “Do you know it’s snowing again?”

  Rebecca looked toward the window. “It’s not even November yet.”

  “Winter comes early to Maine,” Berniece said. “At least, that’s what I hear.”

  Atop the coffee table, tears of wax dripped down the side of a candle and gathered in the small brass dish below it. They sat for a few moments, staring at the flame.

  “So, how’s this going to work?” Carolyn asked.

  Rebecca got up and slid a box out from under her bed. “It’s simple, really.” Despite the alcohol, she still felt silly about sharing attempts at magic with someone other than Berniece. “We’re going to…empower you.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Instill you with confidence.”

  “Can’t hurt.” Carolyn moved to the floor and lay on it with direction from Rebecca’s outstretched hand.

  Berniece removed a primrose capsule from a bottle of supplements, bit the tip off it, and squirted a few drops on Carolyn’s head.

  Rebecca rolled her eyes and, with her sweater clumped at her wrist, caught the liquid before it dripped onto Carolyn’s face.

  “Everything all right?” Carolyn asked.

  Before Berniece could open her mouth, Rebecca said, “Fine,” and placed peacock feathers along Carolyn’s forehead, mouth, and chest. Rebecca scratched her nose with the back of her hand. “Okay. I think we’re ready.” She looked to Berniece, who put her palms up and shrugged.

  The witches inhaled deeply and exhaled. “Omm.” They repeated it a couple of times.

  Berniece’s knee cracked, and with a grimace, she repositioned her legs out to her side. “Ouch.”