by Dana Donovan
“I know. Tell Spinelli to move the car out of sight. I’ll catch up.”
Tony Marcella:
When I first got to the church and found Lilith standing there, stripped of her clothes and looking dazed, well I don’t mind saying I thought the worst. I felt a sickening thud in the pit of my stomach, and all I could think about was taking her in my arms and holding her like I might never let her go. But as it was, Lilith handled herself well. She pointed to the baptismal pool uttering something about him being dead. Right away I thought she meant Putnam, but it turned out to be Hilton.
Later, after putting her clothes on and explaining what happened, I had her show the guys up to Gallows Hill where she said she had stabbed Putnam in the back and neck and left him for dead. In the meantime I had something I wanted to check out. I caught up with them a few minutes later at the top of the hill under the tree where the hangman’s noose still swung lazily in the evening breeze.
“Hell, what happened to you?” Carlos asked upon seeing me. “You’re soaking wet.”
“I fell in a puddle,” I said, shrugging off his question. “So, where’s Putnam?”
“He’s gone," Lilith answered.
“What?"
“Yeah, he was right there. I know it. I’m sure of it.” She pointed to an old wooden pail kicked off into the brush. “That’s the bucket they had me stand on.”
Spinelli picked up the bucket and brought it back. “Look, it says Ingersoll’s Tavern on the side.”
“What’s this all mean?” Carlos asked.
“It means Putnam’s not dead,” I said.
“Maybe Hilton’s not dead either, then.”
Lilith shook her head. “No, he’s dead. Trust me. I think Putnam’s dead, too. Someone’s come up here and taken his body.”
“But who, and why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe someone from the trial: someone who wants to keep all this a secret.”
“Someone from Ingersoll’s Witness,” said Dominic. “You’ve got to know that if the cops aren’t involved, then Ingersoll’s people wouldn’t want a dead body showing up around here. A police investigation would only open up an ugly can of worms.”
“But it’s likely some cops are involved,” I said. “This organization couldn’t thrive otherwise. It tends to mirror the Ku Klux Klan. In its heyday, the Klan had members infiltrating some of the highest public offices in the land.”
“So what do we do next?”
I turned to Lilith. “Think you can get us to that barn where they held you at trial?”
She nodded in the direction of Main Street. “It’s just a couple of blocks that way.”
“You up to it?”
She laughed. “Please, I’ll race you there.”
“No. You’ll stay close to us. I don’t need you getting into any more trouble.”
“Fine. Let’s go.”
As we headed back to the car, Carlos pulled me alongside and whispered, “Just how deep was that puddle, anyway?” I didn’t answer, but the smirk on Lilith’s and Dominic’s face told me they had figured it out easily enough.
We got to the barn, and as expected found it empty. Gone were the rows of spectator seats where the town’s people gasped in horror at Lilith’s stunning admission that she was a witch; the wooden planks off to the side where a jury of twelve sat in pre-judgment of her; the elevated desk that served as the magistrate’s bench and the crude pen they called the witch’s box. The only signs that anyone had recently been there at all were the few still-burning lanterns, a woman’s poke bonnet freshly laundered and a child’s stuffed animal toy, still sticky with lollypop goo on its purple fur.
“That’s Ann’s,” said Lilith, pointing at the stuffed toy Dominic now held. “Can you believe the children were part of this, too?”
“That’s how it works,” I said. “It’s how all prejudices take hold. Kids learn it from adults at an early age before they can decide for themselves what’s right and what’s wrong. Then they grow up and follow the examples of their fathers. It’s the reason persecution still exists today, not just here in Salem, but in Africa, the Middle East, the Baltic’s; hell, anywhere you find people. Discrimination and persecution are kissing cousins. Where one seeks to isolate, the other seeks to eliminate. It’s a learned thing, Lilith, so don’t hate those two young girls for it.”
She looked at me and scoffed. “Hell, I don’t hate those girls for it.”
“You don’t?”
“No. I just hate all little snot-nosed boys and girls. I think people should get puppies instead. They’re quicker to potty train and they pretty much stop whining after six months.”
I shook my head and turned away. “Let’s go home,” I said to the others. “I think that with Putnam and Hilton gone we’ve seen the end of Salem’s witch hunting days.”
“Halleluiah,” said Dominic. “Salem sure looks like a nice town to visit….”
“But there’s no place like New Castle,” Carlos finished.
I slapped them both on the back. “Amen.”
Dominic Spinelli:
There are a few really great memories that I will take to my grave, I’m sure, but none greater than that of bursting in to Our Lady of Grace church in Salem and seeing Lilith Adams standing there in her most unbelievably sweet birthday suit. Lady of Grace, man did they get that name right. I know I should have looked away, but so help me God, I simply couldn’t. If I should live to be a hundred, I believe I shall never behold a more glorious sight. I swear, sometimes I think Tony doesn’t appreciate what he has with Lilith, and I’m sure Carlos would agree if he weren’t so obsequious to Tony most of the time. If Lilith were my girlfriend I would…well, let’s just say that I wouldn’t take her for granted the way I think Tony does.
I suppose I’m telling you all this so that you might understand why I did what I did the day after we got back from Salem. It was about eight in the morning and I was on my way to pick up Tony to give him a lift into work. I had just pulled up across the street from their place when I spotted Lilith leaving the apartment and carrying a large brown box. Naturally that tweaked my curiosity, especially when I noticed how she kept looking suspiciously over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching. I found myself slinking down low into my seat, peering out the side window just above the doorframe. There I watched as she placed the box onto the backseat of her car, jumped in behind the wheel and sped off down the street.
Now, I know it wasn’t any of my business, and another guy might have just called out to her, said hello, waved politely and then let her go about her merry way. But something inside told me to follow her; police instincts maybe, though I doubt Tony would have credited me with that. Whatever my reasoning, I started the car up, dropped it into gear and tailed her clear across town.
I thought I had lost her a couple of times, having pulled way back so that she wouldn’t spot me in areas where traffic thinned to almost nothing. Eventually though, the roads became so deserted I could only guess that I was still behind her, expecting that at any turn she would be there waiting for me and that I might end up ramming right into her back bumper. But that didn’t happen, and as luck had it, I spotted her car from a comfortable distance stopped on the side of a lonely country road just outside New Castle. She had angled in on a ninety in front of the old access gates leading to a quarry that had long since been abandoned. And though I know that it’s still a popular place for teenagers to go and drink at night, the odds of finding anyone there on a Sunday morning are nearly nil. It’s the perfect place to do—whatever—if you don’t want anyone to see you do it.
I waited until she got the box out of the back seat, carried it through the gaping hole in the fence and disappeared down a grassy trail. Then I drove up beyond her, stashing my car around a blind bend. After that, tailing her got a lot easier. Most people don’t know this, but I am one-quarter Chippewa Indian, as well as a former Eagle Scout. My grandfather, who taught me to track deer up in the hills, once gave me the Ind
ian name that his grandfather gave to him: Timber Fox. I tried getting Carlos to call me that, or even just Fox, but he won’t buy it. Some friend, huh?
I picked up Lilith’s trail starting at the fence. She had followed a well-defined path for about twenty yard before branching off down another less traveled track that took her through hedgerows of thorny thickets and heavy scrub. Further down I found the ground lay deep with pine needles and deciduous leaves, alternating in scattered patches as the mix of trees dictated. Below the leaves, the spongy earth allowed the subtle impressions of Lilith’s footprints to telegraph her journey. If she thought she was being followed, she certainly chose her course well. Anyone else would have made a ruckus thrashing about the brush, snapping twigs and stomping leaves following her, but not me; not the Timber Fox.
I caught up with her about another thirty yards in where the vegetation graciously gave way to an open circle of flat grass and firm ground. And there, behind a crouch of dogwood shrub, I hunkered low and watched her.
By the time I took up my position, Lilith had already laid out what looked like bones onto the ground in a pattern resembling a human form. A few days earlier, Tony told me about her claiming her Aunt Ursula’s bones from a city excavation site down at the cemetery, and so I guessed those were them. I hoped so anyway, otherwise they were Tony’s and that meant I’d have to take back all the bad things I had ever said about him not appreciating Lilith. Man, I hate eating crow. Still, I suppose that would mean that she’d be free to date again. Hmm….
After completing a few final adjustments in bone placement, Lilith stood erect, raised her hands to the sky and began chanting something in Latin, or maybe Greek, or some Aboriginal monkey speak; I don’t know, but it was bizarre. I know I heard the word Grimoire spoken. I recognized that word from some of the stories Tony told us about his rite of passage ceremony. Whatever the words, I know they held some powerful influences over the skies above. Almost immediately upon uttering them, a low dark cloud formed directly over Lilith and her collection of bones. The wind around her picked up in a spiral, spinning slowly at first in a counter-clockwise motion, stirring up the grass and leaves and collecting them in a train like a ribbon trailing in the breeze.
I watched in awe, stooped on knees and wanting so much to stand and applaud her mastery of kinetic manipulation. But I dared not, and before long the spinning vortex around her increased in both mass and velocity, at times blurring her out of focus for the curtain of debris trapped within its walls. It was then I sensed the true threat for her safety. I remembered Tony telling me how a similar phenomenon had wiped Lilith’s house completely of its slab, and if not for the fact that he and she were alive today to testify to it, I might have run to Lilith then and tried to stop her.
At that moment, the cloud overhead began churning in colors, morphing from dark grey and black to deep purple with streaks of cobalt and crimson; the cyclone’s grip below squeezing ever tighter, constricting like a python to barely an arm’s length in either direction. Tiny sparks like fireflies flickered all around its perimeter, snapping and crackling in static electric charges that seemed to increase in number and intensity with the growing tempest. Lilith, the conductor of this great orchestra, bowed on one knee, making a fist over the bones. She then opened her fist, allowing what looked like ordinary beach sand to cascade over her palm, into the wind. A clap of thunder erupted instantly. The swirling wall of wind turned a crisp ocean blue, then yellow and then finally, in a brief flash, white, with a blast of heat so harsh it pushed me to the ground.
When I rose again it was gone, all of it: the cloud, the wind, the ribbons of grass and leaves; everything. But in its place stood a miracle of science, nature and whatever other affinity of Cosmo-creations one can accredit if he so believes. I rubbed the scratchy bits of dirt from my eyes. My jaw hung slack. My throat narrowed to a tiny straw-sized opening that allowed just barely enough air to tunnel through it so that I might not pass out from lack of oxygen. But none of that did I notice at the time, instead it was all I could do to wrap my mind around the sight of two preposterously gorgeous women standing before me: one, of course, was Lilith; the other her stark double, the near spitting image of perfection personified. She stood facing Lilith at comfortable ease and totally nude. Her hair, silky long and thick fell across her shoulders like an ebony tide, splitting symmetrically down her back and front and covering her nipples just barely. She smiled at Lilith with a teasing sort of grin, suggesting familiarity in acquaintance and finality in acceptance. Her body shape and tone mirrored her maker exactly. Their bewitching eyes, haunting and beguiling, shared a seductive allure unmatched by any siren or fairy temptress. Even that sassy stance that defines Lilith so keenly found compliments in this other woman’s posture.
In the still of early morning, with the faint whisper of falling leaves still settling from the sudden absence of spiraling winds, I heard Lilith say, “You look well, Ursula, all things considered.”
Ursula approached Lilith and the two hug. “And thou,” she said, “hath thou waited long?”
Lilith shrugged lightly. “Only sixteen and three hundred.”
“Years?”
“Yes.”
“Blessed. How came this tardy spell?”
“It’s a long story; don’t ask.” She turned suddenly; catching me off guard but luckily did not see me. Then she bent over and reached into the box that she had carried in with her, removing a small bundle of clothes and handing them to Ursula. “Here, put these on,” she said. “They’re not exactly what you’re used to, but I think you’ll find them most comfortable.”
Ursula unfurled a pair of blue jeans and held them out at arm’s length. “Breeches?” The pitch in her voice made her sound young and naïve. “What costume have thee presented me that I should dress like a man?”
“Not a man,” said Lilith, “a woman. We have come far in three hundred years. We dress as we please now. We are emancipated. Women in this century vote; we hold jobs of all sorts: doctors, lawyers, warriors and politicians; there is no position barred to us these days.”
“None?”
“Not in America.”
“Have we a woman pope?”
“A pope?”
“Yes.”
“No, that’s not America, but check back in another three hundred years. Maybe the church will give in a little on that. In the meantime, come on, get dressed.”
Ursula stood in silent contemplation, scrutinizing the garment with a level eye and a curious grin. She seemed especially amused with the zipper, which she figured out quickly and delighted in repeating the function of zipping it up and down a number of times. She then looked at Lilith, only now realizing how complementary the jeans looked on her. “You wear no shift below these?” she said.
“Shift?”
“An undergarment.”
“Oh, right.” Lilith smiled with hesitance. “No, no shift. I’d have brought you a thong, but I didn’t do the laundry yesterday, what with the witch’s trial and all.”
“Pray tell, you have been to a witch’s trial?”
“Been to one? I was the guest of honor at one last night. I’d be hanged had I not killed Putnam and Hilton?”
“Putnam?”
“Yes, do you know him?”
“The name; he is the devil, for ought I know. At my trial, he did cause the children torment. In my presence they fell into fits uncontrolled, to which he put blame unto me.”
“So you think, Ursula, but that was not entirely Putnam’s doing.”
“Oh, but it was. Had I not seen with eyes my own I might not believe, but his powers are strong and affright me most grievously.”
“I know, but you see it was all a sham. And in your case it was not Putnam’s doing alone; it was the children’s, too. They only pretended to be possessed by your specter so that they could see you hang with the others. The attending adults, most of them, simply got caught up in the hysteria. But a few, like Putnam, went along to settle old sc
ores and to profit from the fallout. None of it would have been possible without the presumed innocence of the children, however.”
The thought of that brought Ursula nearly to tears. I watched her gaze drift away, her thoughts with them, perhaps back to a simpler time when good and evil were perceived easily as black and white, and where all children were considered blessed unless tainted by agents of the devil, to which evidence would be obvious and no blame could they know.
Lilith reached out for Ursula’s arm and shook it gently, drawing her back from the past. I watched (ashamed, I must admit) from a crouch behind the dogwood brush, as Ursula finished getting dressed, stepping first into the jeans Lilith had given her, and then putting on a bra, a blouse, stockings and boots. She stepped back, posing with arms splayed for Lilith, as if modeling in front of a mirror. “What thoughts have you now, sister?”
“Wow,” said Lilith, smiling as brightly as I have ever seen her smile. “You look hot, girl; not bad for an old bag of bones; don’t you think?”
“I do,” she said. “I should think the devil himself hath dressed me in sin for all I know. But if I must tell you, I will; it doth pleaseth me.”
“Good. If it pleases you, it pleases me, too. Now come. We have some business to take care of in Salem before the day is through.”
“This day?”
“Yes.”
“But are we not still in New Castle?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Salem is a half night and a day away, even with a horse of strong and good nature, a carriage can only travel so swiftly.”
Lilith placed her arm around Ursula’s shoulder and started her down the path toward the gate. “Yes, but you see I have a carriage with a couple of hundred horses to spare. It’s called a Mustang and I feed it high-test.”
“Pray tell, have things changed?”
“Oh, my, yes they have. What once we thought impossible even through witchcraft is now common occurrence through our understanding of everyday science and nature. Why, we witches hardly want for anything anymore.”
