by Aaron Galvin
“Wh-who are these girls?” Emma asks. “They are not from Winford.”
Charlotte looks upon the strangers. “Aye. I gather many come from the north. All wish to share the night with us. They bring…”
Several girls pull their gowns over their heads. They toss them aside with little care. I see their bodies decorated in similar, tattooed fashion.
“Strange customs,” Charlotte says. “They claim there is nothing like a sister’s kiss.” Her face flushes red. “I-I must admit. I wish to try.”
“Yes!” Ruth says. “We shall try together!”
My gaze sweeps over the gathering. I take special notice of a tall, slender woman at the center. A dark veil, lined with scarlet silk, covers the top of her head and trains down her back. Her emerald eyes stare at me from behind a mask of raven feathers that glistens in the firelight.
I look away from her piercing gaze.
Ruth does not. “Who is that woman?”
Charlotte chuckles. “The others name her Hecate, the Devil’s daughter.” She waves at the woman and receives a bow in answer. Charlotte turns back to us. “They say she comes to lead us.” She whispers. “Have you ever seen a woman so beautiful as she?”
I caution another glance.
Hecate approaches us. Her violet robe clings and moves so smoothly it seems painted.
“Good eve to you all.” Hecate purrs. “Charlotte has told me much and more of you…Ruth…Emma.”
I watch her give a nod to each of my friends in turn, then linger on me. She reaches out, gently lifts my chin that I might look her full in the face.
“I find your face even more familiar, child…” Hecate grants me a smile to elicit a marriage proposal from any young man. “You must be Sarah Kelly.”
A lump forms in my throat. “I am, Madam.”
Hecate laughs. “I am no madam. Call me sister, for we are all but daughters held in sway to our Moon Mother, yes?”
“Aye,” Ruth says. “We come to dance in Her light!”
“And you are most welcome.” Hecate bows away and opens her arms to permit us entry to the dance.
Charlotte tugs at my hand. “Come. Let us join!”
Emma falters. “Perhaps we should not…not dance with those we know nothing of. I feel…odd. Ne’er have I felt so at the dance before.”
Ruth and Charlotte will not heed her. They pull Emma and me to join them.
I glance over my shoulder, see Hecate’s glittering gaze trained on me. Why does she watch me so?
Any nervousness I held is lost upon entering the circle. I surrender myself to the melodic tune. The moon dance and my sisters are all that exist. Unknown faces stand before me whenever I chance to open my eyes. I recall Emma’s words. I am among strangers, yet these outsiders seem friendly. I put any question of their intentions out of mind. Tonight we all are moon sisters.
A girl holding my hand lifts it to her mouth. Kisses the back of my hand. When she smiles, I see her teeth have a touch of black stain to them. I shyly pull my hand away. The girl shrugs and is gone, replaced by a new one who only laughs at my discomfort. Her teeth are normal.
I put away the idea I witnessed a demon amidst us, and lose myself to the music’s rhythm again. Only later, when it stops, do I question whether I danced for a few minutes or several hours.
Embers from the fire pop and spark brilliant shades of orange into the air. As if signaled, the drums begin anew in a slow, measured tempo I fear will lull me to sleep.
Hecate elegantly enters the middle of the circle. She has donned a thin, black cloak and stands so near the fire I fear it will catch aflame. She lifts her arms to the night sky, unbothered by the heat. Her light, silky voice commands my attention. “Sisters, sisters, one and all. Your Maiden’s beauty held in thrall.”
The other girls repeat her chant.
I feel the circle of oneness enveloping me into the fold.
I must join them. I think. Or be outcast.
A shadow moves outside the circle. Snaps me from the reverie. I search for its owner, but now there is only dark where the shadow existed not a moment ago.
The drums beat faster, yet they no longer hold me to their cadence.
Not so for the other girls. They continue to sway and tug at my arms, willing me to rejoin them.
The invisible feather returns to drift down the nape of my neck. Now awakened from the music’s spell, I shudder at the oneness the others experience.
These are strangers here. Emma’s earlier fear catches within me. Their customs odd.
I search the circle for my friends.
Emma is easiest to find. She sits across from me—the only other girl not content with the oneness. Her eyes are two deep wells of tears. Save me, they plead. End this nightmare.
My gaze sweeps over the unknown faces. I see more than I first supposed. Were there so many all along? I cannot recall the circle being so large when first I entered.
Ruth sits nearest Hecate, still entranced with the tune. Blissfully swaying beside her, Charlotte, too, remains in the music’s grip.
Hecate thrusts her arms out. The fire at her back makes her appear liken to a bat with the cloak she wears now tightly drawn. An assortment of leather pouches dangle from twine cords inside it. She jerks one free of its binding. “Mother, Mother,” she cries. “Let these who would serve never tire!”
The drums quicken. The circle follows.
My body aches to join. My mind rejects the notion.
Hecate’s escorts slip silently forward. They carry a silver platelet—long and thin like Mother’s griddle—and hold it before her chest.
Hecate unties the binding round the bag and sweeps it over the platelet. A dusky snow of fine, purplish-black powder falls across its surface. “Father, Father. Hear my plea!” Her voice heightens. “Let these who would call spirits, come unto thee!”
I see Ruth rise in a stupor. She strides into the circle’s midst, never stopping until she stands before Hecate.
Hecate places her right hand upon Ruth’s shoulder. With her left, she motions her escort to raise the platelet.
My conscience screams to stop her, but my body seems racked with molasses. I cannot move. Not even when I see Hecate gently push Ruth’s face toward the powder.
Ruth opens her eyes at the last.
I see doubt in them. “No…” I hear myself whisper.
Hecate tilts her head, places a skeletal finger on Ruth’s cheek to draw her attention. Then she swoops low. Dragging her nose across the plate, she snorts the powder in example.
The drums grow louder.
The girls chant as one. “Hama shelabedi—hama shelabedi—hama shelabedi—hama shelabedi!”
Hecate pulls away from the plate, moaning in satisfaction. A thin trace of powder lingers beneath her nostrils. She sweeps it away with a quick flick of her finger. Fixated on Ruth, Hecate points to the plate.
Ruth takes a hesitant breath…and plunges into the powder.
I stand without meaning to, the spell over me broken.
Ruth pulls away quickly, gasping. Her fingers clasp into fists. Her eyes go wide.
Hecate lifts her arms in praise.
The gleeful pipe music begins anew. The circle of oneness is over. Some of the girls dance. Most hurry to have their turn at the platelet. They do not notice Ruth collapse like I do. The others crowd over and around her, each more desperate than the next. All while Ruth’s hands claw at her nose and throat.
Hecate glances over her shoulder. She nods.
A pair of masked and hooded figures emerges from the clearing line. I cannot tell if they be women or men. Unlike Hecate, their bulky garb is not royal—deerskin and beaver pelts. They cross the distance in short manner. Each roughly grabs hold beneath Ruth’s arms. They drag her limp body back the way they came.
I start forward. A bird’s whistle distracts me.
Far outside the circle of light, the shadow has returned. A weatherworn pastor’s hat shields the wearer’s face, but I feel
their cold gaze upon me.
A new figure steps into my line of sight.
“Why do you not join us, Sarah?” Hecate asks. “We have come so far to share in the night with you and your friends. You do us grievous wrong by leaving now.”
I take a step back. There is naught but trees where the shadow stood moments ago.
“I-I…”
She reaches for me. Her fingers massage my shoulder blade.
I gather the massage will become a vice if I run. My breath is ragged, and this she seems to find amusing.
“Rest easy, sister,” Hecate says. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“But I have no—”
“We all keep secrets, even our Moon Mother. It’s why She only comes at night, when things are best kept hidden. Would you like to know that which She guards closest of all?”
I nod.
“She hates.” Hecate relishes. “At night She is beautiful and free, all Her mysteries kept. But Her master, the sun, reveals them in the light of day, for nothing is hidden from His sight…just as nothing is hidden from mine.”
I fight off a shudder.
“I see others for who they are.” Her voice holds me. “You are different, Sarah.”
“H-how?”
“Your friends lust after forbidden things, as children are wont to do. Thrills and conjures, magic and wonder.” She shrugs gaily. “But our Moon Mother did not bring you here this night for such works alone.”
I shake my head, even as I am unsure of what she presumes to know of my intentions.
“Night is the time for secrets. Truth is best left to the light of day.” Hecate draws me close.
I feel a weight fall into the front pocket of my apron.
“Learn your truth, Sarah,” Hecate whispers in my ear. “As I did.”
She releases me.
Despite the fire’s warmth, I feel cloaked in ice. I stumble out of the circle, and run to the brush where I witnessed Ruth taken.
I fight through the limbs and shrubbery barring my path.
My shin hits something hard. It occurs to me this be the same direction from which I saw the shadow appear. I turn to see if a person wishes harm upon me. Release a sigh when I see only a small stump.
Someone moans not far from me.
I climb to my feet, and hurry to follow the sound to its owner. Twenty feet away, I discover Ruth lying in a pile of dried leaves.
I kneel beside her. “Ruth, we must leave.”
Her head lolls to the side. The veins in her neck pulse feverously. Beads of sweat train down her face. Ruth opens her eyes. She stares at me like I am unknown to her. “I can see…” she says. “Sp-spirits. They call…call me to dance.”
I hear the underbrush trampled. Mayhap it is those who brought Ruth here! I stand and lift a fallen branch to ward off whoever comes. It is only Emma, aiding the frightful mess Charlotte has become.
Charlotte laughs hysterically. She swings her arm off Emma’s shoulder and collapses beside me. A touch of powdery residue remains under her nostrils. She crawls forward. “I wish to dance with you, Ruth!”
“And I with you!” Ruth answers.
Charlotte attempts to stand. I keep her from falling. “Yes!” she says. “Come…come, sister. Let us dance together with the spirits of the night!”
“You cannot mean to stay,” I protest. “The dawn approaches. We must leave—”
Ruth leans upon a tree to help her stand. “The night lingers on!” she snarls. “And the spirits…they need us!”
She is not in her right mind. I think. The powder stole away her wits.
“We are sisters, borne of shadow,” Ruth says to Charlotte. “We—we dance until the dawn!”
Charlotte pitches forward, barely catching hold of a tree to stay upright. “Come, sister!”
Giggling, Ruth stumbles to Charlotte.
What sort of devilry did the powder possess? I wonder. We were only to have danced…
“I like this not at all, Sarah,” Emma sulks. “I wish to go home. Can we not leave?”
I go to her. The weight Hecate gifted me shifts in my apron. I feel a sharp prick dig into my inner thigh. I cast a final glance toward the fire. See Hecate welcome my friends back into her fold. Her eyes find me; hold me in sway to their beauty.
Emma breaks me of it. “Sarah! Please let us go!”
I put my back to the dance, and escort my friend away, out of the woods.
Even so, the music echoes in my ears when we reach the cornfield. And, despite my fearful misgivings, all I desire is to return and welcome the dawn with my sisters of the night.
-2-
“Be still, Lila.” I pat the old cow’s haunch. Skittish of nigh everything, a better name for her would be Emma. I chuckle at the thought, even as I rub sleep from my eyes.
The fault lies with Emma, I slept not at all. She refused to leave my side until the pair of us reached her homestead. I hardly made it back to my own ere Father left for a morning hunt with George. If either saw me enter the barn, they made no mention of it.
I clench Lila’s teat with all my strength and pull down. She rewards me with but a few drops of milk in the pail. I release my grip to flex the stiffness from my fingers. I wish Father would sell the old cow or slaughter her. Her udders are nearly dried up as it is.
I yawn.
Lila jumps at the sound, nearly knocking my pail over.
“Easy, old girl,” I calm her again.
Both my pails full and the chore finished, I hurry to the barn door to learn if Father and George may be returning. I look out across the fields, but there be no sign of them. I rush back to my stool, and take the gift Hecate gave me last eve from inside my apron.
The black leather cover feels oddly cold. The page edges shine gold, liken to Father’s Bible. They glitter as I flip through them, promising secrets if I have the courage to read them.
What manner of book is this? One filled with spells? Fortune-telling, perhaps? Finding new books to read has ever been a chore, let alone those of any interest to me. Something about this book frightens me. I turn it over in my hand, feeling the cover for any sort of design. I find nothing. Why did Hecate gift me this?
The only way to know is to open it. I do so hurriedly, shrinking as if some malevolent spirits trapped within wait for their release. There are no spirits, only a few words written in a neat, legible hand.
Journal: Sgt. Thomas Putnam, Jr.
A thrill passes through me as I idly flip through to weaken its stiff binding. I notice rough, torn edges at the beginning where many pages have been ripped out. I stop upon finding the first entry.
I begin to read.
***
16th day of October, 1691
Perchance, I crossed paths with Dr. Simon Campbell this afternoon. The lad mentioned he considers taking up residency in Billerica. For now, he plans to travel abroad and determine where his best prospects lie.
I did not tell him I had already heard of his rumored brilliance from our own Dr. Griggs. Indeed, Griggs so loudly proclaims his fervent support for this young man, I’ve begun to question his sincerity. It has not been so long ago since I learned Griggs sent his great-niece to both serve his competitor and spy on his practice dealings. Mayhap he seeks to spy on this new doctor as well and flatters the young man in the waiting time.
A clever plot, that, and I find no fault in Griggs’s using the girl. She should count herself fortunate enough Griggs took her in after the Indian wars made her an orphan. I see no reason he should not profit from sheltering her.
I am more intrigued by this Dr. Campbell, however. After our introduction, he immediately expressed condolences for the legal ills he heard I have suffered at the thieving hands of my brothers.
I did not inquire as to where he heard tale of my misfortunes, but I assume the damnable Bridget Bishop told the tale. The wench’s proclivities to wag her tongue for those fair in face be little secret around the village. I accepted Dr. Campbell’s words courteously,
however, and hid my true outrage for a stranger to speak in so familiar a manner.
He then shared with me a bit of news he overheard of our troubled Reverend Parris. Aye, an interesting bit of news. Apparently, the faction vowed to drive Parris from Salem are now also vowed to quit his wages.
‘Tis little wonder why. A more avaricious man I have never met, though I like him slightly more than our former three reverends. In truth, I fear his position cursed. Parris be already the fourth reverend appointed in Salem these past eighteen years. The previous two did not last more than four years; why then should he?
Damned fool. I warned Parris those in the village were a shifty flock, and said as much to Dr. Campbell.
The young doctor smiled at the mention, a knowing smile that irks me still. He next claimed my foresight made him eager to meet me and named my pulse of Salem’s society as hallmark to a great mind.
I gave my farewell then, but not ere Dr. Campbell suggested we meet again soon to further our friendship. I must needs learn more of this new doctor and why he takes up residency in the countryside when Boston would seem a sounder choice for a young man of his ambition.
***
My conscience warns I should not be privy to a stranger’s secrets, but I cannot help myself.
Hecate could have given this book to anyone, but ensured it came to me. Why? What truth did she hope I might find in its pages? I know naught of this Sergeant Putnam, nor any of the men he mentioned in his entry. Still, the mere mention of Salem bids me read on.
***
16th day of November, 1691
God be praised, and bless Dr. Campbell.
A knock came at my door late this eve, and he behind it. My daughter Ann stood with him. So, too, did my servant Mercy.
What cause did they have to be out so late at night? I asked them both. And alone with a young man too?
Dr. Campbell requested to speak with me outside. I consented, but first promised both girls a thrashing upon my return for her disobedience. God help me. My daughter knew my act all for show and exhibited little fear in front of my guest. I shall need to remedy her of that. The child should at least pretend to obey me, as Mercy does.
