A Little Town Called Mercy

by Wendy Saunders

  ‘Samuel.’

  He felt the presence behind him before he heard the voice. Turning around slowly his eyes hardened a fraction. Sam watched as two heavily built men stepped from the shadows. He was under no illusions; he knew exactly what they were, as if the smell of them wasn’t bad enough their eyes gave it away. They were cold, emotionless and blood red.

  ‘There’s nowhere else to run.’

  ‘There’s always somewhere to run.’ Sam’s brow arched as he backed up slowly, watching warily as the two men moved toward him. He ducked, narrowly missing a blow as he brought his fist up. The first guy’s head snapped back with the force of the blow but as he turned Sam took a fist to the jaw and one to the stomach from the second man, and as the breath whooshed from his lungs he was grabbed from behind.

  Pulling his legs up he kicked out hard catching one of them in the stomach. As he went down Sam threw his head back and heard the sickening crunch of a nose breaking behind him.

  He stumbled forward as the grip on his arms loosened, and grabbed a stray plank of wood which was leaning against a dumpster. A few well aimed swings and both of them were groaning on the filthy ground.

  He ran down blind alleys and winding side streets but he could still feel them close behind. He yanked open a door, running up flights of stairs and through random apartments, not even stopping to apologize to the surprised residents as he leapt out onto the fire escape and over the railing.

  The breath caught in his throat and in that one instant of free fall his heart hammered before he landed with a grunt amongst the bags of garbage.

  Rolling out of the dumpster and holding his aching ribs he set off down the dark street. As he ran, once again the signs of pursuit fell behind and at last he stopped, leaning heavily against a building near one of the main streets.

  Damn it, he was out of options. He pulled a vial of liquid from his pocket and sighed. It was a risk; if this didn’t work… He shook his head, there was no choice, he couldn’t allow them to find out what he knew.

  Pulling a black marker from his pocket he shoved his sleeve up and scribbled across his skin, his hand shaking badly, from exertion, from pain, from urgency,

  ‘Find Olivia…’

  He could only pray, he could figure it out when he woke up…if he woke up. Shaking his head again he took a deep breath and cracked the seal. There was no other way, he couldn’t let them find out about her. He lifted the elixir to his lips and swallowed. The bitter liquid slid down his throat, burning as it went. He coughed and tried to drag oxygen in but it felt as if his throat was swelling shut.

  Stumbling out from the shadows he tried to breathe, grasping at his neck with desperate fingers. All other sounds around him were blocked out as his ears filled with a static buzzing. His vision dimmed and blurred as he staggered into the street. He was vaguely aware of the angry blare of a car horn and with a final blinding flash of white light his legs crumpled.

  His eyes were burning; every time he opened his eyes it was like he was being stabbed with needles. He was on his back but he was moving, everything was too sharp, too bright, too noisy. He was surrounded by people and they were shouting. There were more bright lights above him, moving… moving… everything was moving too fast. His body felt like it was burning from the inside out, the pain in his head was screaming, a white hot poker drilling through his skull.

  Unable to bear it any longer his back arched and he screamed out in agony. His eyes opened again and clashed with dark grey eyes, wide with shock. He barely registered her familiar face, framed by a shock of dark red hair before the world went dark.

  Theo gasped and fell to his knees, everything around him spinning.

  ‘Theo!’ Olivia dropped to her knees beside him, stroking his back soothingly as he sucked in a heavy labored breath. ‘What is it? Are you okay?’

  He nodded, letting out another ragged breath as he turned to his wife.

  ‘You’re right,’ he breathed heavily, his dark eyes wide and as troubled as hers had been. ‘Sam’s in grave danger… and he wants us to find him…’

  7.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ Corinne looked up at the large dark stick style house in the distance.

  Her companion stared then turned to regard her quietly, his face barely visible beneath the heavy, dark hooded cloak he wore.

  ‘If Simon hadn’t been so rash and greedy, Infernum, the West woman and her children would now be in our possession,’ he replied slowly.

  Corinne was no fool, his voice may have been low and his temperament even, but she knew he was furious. He was right though, Simon Flores had been a greedy, ambitious, ruthless man. The rest of the world may have seen him as the handsome and charismatic governor of Massachusetts but she’d seen his real face.

  As a high ranking member of the Veritas he’d been afforded privilege, rank, respect and power, but it had never been enough for a man like Flores, he wanted it all. He’d disobeyed the Veritas and gone after Olivia and it had cost him his life. She herself had barely made it out of that mess with her life. Not only had she had to make it out of the fire in the woods on the night of the awakening, she’d then had to convince the Veritas not to execute her for following that fool Simon’s orders.

  Now the Master himself was in Mercy. She wouldn’t have believed it if she wasn’t standing right next to him. She’d begun to think he was nothing but a myth. If the whispers were to be believed the Master had not left London in… well more decades than was possible.

  She watched as he lifted his hand, allowing his crooked papery fingers to drift ghost-like across the protective ward, causing it to ripple and shimmer with an ethereal glow.

  ‘She’s powerful,’ he mused, almost to himself. ‘She will be difficult to control, harder to kill… but there are ways and means.’

  ‘And the children?’ Corinne asked.

  ‘They will be raised as Veritas,’ he rasped, his voice as dry as autumn leaves. ‘If they are half as powerful as their mother they will make formidable allies when they are grown. They must be introduced into the fold as soon as possible. They will be easier to control if they have been raised by us. They will have known no other life. It is the only way to ensure their absolute loyalty.’

  ‘What of her husband? He is a seer after all, he has some value.’

  ‘Ah, Theo,’ his tone, a mere whisper, cracked with age but there was something else in his tone, something Corinne couldn’t place. ‘It has been a long, long time.’

  It almost seemed as if he knew him, but it was the next words from his lips that both shocked and confused her.

  ‘I have not seen Theo in over three hundred years,’ he chuckled, a cold dusty sound, devoid of warmth or any real amusement, ‘…and I cannot wait for our reunion…’

  Part 2

  The Salted Bone.

  1.

  Jackson looked up as the door chimed. Drying the glass and setting it back down on the bar he smiled as the cold night air blew in two more regulars. He watched as the woman threw her hood back, laughing at something her companion had said. She turned toward him, dusting the snow from his jacket before leaning in and kissing him easily.

  They turned and headed toward the bar, smiling as they both caught sight of Jackson. He waved in greeting as they settled onto the stools in front of him.

  ‘Jake,’ he nodded, ‘Roni.’

  ‘Hey Jackson,’ Jake replied, ‘how’s things?’

  He glanced around the pub. It was fairly quiet, although there were still plenty of people huddled around tables and snuggled into booths, eating something which smelled incredible.

  ‘Not too bad,’ Jackson answered. ‘Despite the snow not letting up everyone’s still stopping by. The cider Theo recommended we stock from Wilkins Orchards has gone down a treat this winter. The peach and apple has been a firm favorite and so has the applejack. It’s even better when it’s been warmed.’

  ‘I’m so glad you did decide to stoc
k it,’ Roni beamed. ‘I fell in love with it at Olivia and Theo’s wedding; the peach and apple is my favorite.’

  She didn’t mention that the orchard had once belonged to Theo’s biological father over three hundred years ago and that today it was owned by Theo’s cousins many, many times removed. As much as Jackson knew about the true nature of Mercy and the magic that ran through it, she imagined he probably wasn’t ready to embrace the concept of time travel.

  ‘What is that incredible smell?’ Jake’s stomach growled loudly. ‘What’s Owen been cooking up this time?’

  ‘Ah, it’s back to our roots this time. Tis traditional Irish stew, an old family recipe that Owen inherited when his dear old granny passed last autumn.’

  ‘I remember,’ Roni nodded, ‘he went back to Ireland for the funeral and Shelley nearly had a meltdown trying to find a cook to temporarily replace him.’

  ‘Aye,’ Jackson nodded, ‘it’s glad I am that he decided to return, for his Ma and his brothers wanted him to stay somethin’ fierce.’

  ‘Must’ve been a hard decision for him,’ Jake frowned.

  ‘That it was,’ Jackson replied, ‘but Mercy is home for him now. He loves his family, but home is where the heart is, and his heart belonged to Mercy from the first moment he stepped foot on its soil.’

  ‘I know the feeling,’ Roni nodded. ‘I always thought I’d return home to Boston one day, settle down, maybe raise a family.’

  ‘And now?’ Jackson asked curiously, his gaze flicking to Jake for the barest fraction of a second, but his expression gave nothing away.

  ‘Now,’ Roni smiled softly with a helpless little shrug, ‘now I can’t imagine being anywhere else.’

  ‘Ah there you go love, tis the nature of our darling Mercy. If she were a woman, she’d be as wily and beautiful as she is seductive. Once she has us in her embrace none of us want to let go.’

  ‘I think you might be right,’ Roni laughed in delight.

  ‘So, might I be right in assuming by the sound of Jake’s belly there, that two stews would be in order?’

  ‘Yeah, and whatever Roni’s having,’ Jake nodded.

  ‘Very funny,’ she rolled her eyes, ‘you won’t have that metabolism forever you know.’

  Jackson chuckled and headed back to the kitchen to place the orders before returning once again to the bar.

  ‘What’ll you be drinkin’ then?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ll take the peach and apple cider,’ Roni replied.

  ‘Applejack please,’ Jake added.

  ‘Warmed?’

  ‘Yes please,’ Roni answered for both of them. ‘I also have something I want to run past you.’

  ‘Oh aye?’ he quirked a brow curiously as he poured their drinks into thick glass tankards, from two heated urns set up behind the bar.

  ‘I had this idea.’

  ‘Brilliant idea,’ Jake interrupted with a wink in her direction.

  She flushed in pleasure as she turned her attention back to Jackson.

  ‘It’s just that Mercy has all this great history and traditions, but we don’t really celebrate it, I mean not really. I suppose it goes back to the town’s founding. When Bridget and Hester West first settled here they were escaping the persecution of Salem. For the next several centuries people of magical descent drifted into town and settled. Mercy was a refuge, a sanctuary, but they were still in hiding. I think that wary kind of mentality just carried on down through the generations, but the world is different now. I think it’s time to celebrate our town and all the magic that goes with it. In addition, my idea will hopefully bring in more tourists and with them give our local economy a boost.’

  ‘Well,’ Jackson slid their drinks across the warm glossy wood of the bar, ‘now you have my attention.’

  ‘I want to host what I hope will become an annual festival.’

  ‘A festival you say,’ he scratched the stubble at his chin. ‘What kind of festival?’

  ‘A festival of magic.’

  ‘Magic?’ he smiled.

  She nodded slowly.

  ‘I’ve already got the town council on board; I’m just taking the time to speak with local business owners to see who might like to get involved. I’ve spoken to Tommy since he took over the Bailey’s store. He’s going to start sourcing merchandise to sell, anything fun and magic themed like T-shirts and gifts that say, ‘Mercy Festival of Magic & Witchcraft’. Theo’s designing all the artwork.’

  ‘Sounds great,’ Jackson replied thoughtfully. ‘We could do something similar here. Magic and witchcraft themed drinks and food, and maybe sell some of Tommy’s merchandise if he wants to set something up in here. If you’re going to set up any competitions or such like I’d be happy to donate prizes.’

  ‘That would be fantastic,’ Roni beamed as she pulled her phone from her pocket and started making notes.

  ‘Like I said,’ Jake smiled as he watched her, ‘brilliant idea.’

  ‘That it is,’ Jackson agreed, ‘that it is. So, when is this festival?’

  ‘Well it’s still far too cold obviously,’ Roni mused, ‘and as it will be predominantly outside, I was originally thinking Beltane, which is May 1st. Or maybe the summer solstice so it’s in keeping with the witchcraft/magic theme, but then I thought, ‘no’. It needs to have its own identity, especially as I hope it’s going to become an annual tradition. It needs to be something specific to the town.’

  ‘August 1st,’ Jake replied absently as he drained his tankard of applejack, smacking his lips and sighing in appreciation.

  ‘August 1st?’ Roni murmured, ‘that’s brilliant. Why didn’t I think of that?’

  ‘Why August 1st?’ Jackson asked curiously, ‘and why is it brilliant?’

  ‘It’s the anniversary of the town’s founding,’ Roni answered as she went back to tapping away at her phone. ‘It’s perfect.’

  Suddenly the kitchen doors crashed open, loud enough for everyone to turn and look. Owen appeared in the doorway and there was no mistaking his Celtic heritage. With his bright red hair and a bushy red beard, he looked more Scottish than Irish. He towered over most men in the pub at a solid six foot five and his build was thick and solid, like a Greco Roman wrestler. He stalked into the pub carrying a tray with two steaming bowls of stew and a basket of warm soda bread.

  ‘Here,’ the tray crashed down on the bar in front of them, almost sloshing the stew over the edge of the bowls.

  Roni stared at him with wide eyes as she clutched her phone, having rarely seen the huge beast of a man outside his natural habitat, the kitchen.

  ‘Thanks,’ Jake replied easily, obviously used to Owen’s gruff temperament.

  ‘Sorry,’ Jackson chuckled, ‘we don’t often let him off the chain.’

  Owen snorted and turned back toward the kitchen. Jackson’s piercing blue gaze scanned the pub then, eyes narrowing, he turned toward Owen with a frown.

  ‘Owen, where’s Shelley got to?’

  He shrugged and stalked back into the kitchen, allowing the swinging doors to bang behind him.

  ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ Jackson murmured to Roni and Jake, before slipping out from behind the bar and disappearing through the staff only door.

  It didn’t take him long to find her and his frown of confusion quickly turned to one of concern. She was leaning back against the exposed brick wall of the corridor with her eyes closed. Her beautiful blonde wavy hair, usually flawless, hung damply against her face. Her skin was pale, and her cheeks flushed; even from a distance he could tell she had a fine sheen of sweat on her face and neck.

  ‘Shelley love?’ he called out to her.

  She opened her eyes and turned her slightly unfocused gaze in his direction.

  ‘Sorry,’ she cleared her throat, but it didn’t seem to make a difference, her usually sweet voice was croaky and rough and barely more than a whisper. ‘I just needed a minute, I’ll be right out.’

  ‘Shelley,’ he stoppe
d in front of her, ‘why didn’t you say you were sick?’

  ‘I’m not,’ she pushed away from the wall, swaying slightly. ‘It’s just a little head cold, I’m fine.’

  ‘You’re not fine,’ he replied, ‘I can see it from here. You’re barely even upright.’

  He reached out and laid his hand across her clammy forehead, then her cheek. She almost moaned at the feel of his cool hands against her aching head.

  ‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph,’ he scowled, ‘you’re burning up.’

  ‘I said I’m fine,’ she pulled away and swallowed hard, even though it felt as if her throat was full of razor blades.

  ‘Shelley you should be at home,’ he replied in concern.

  ‘I’m okay,’ she told him stubbornly. ‘It’s only a few hours until we close anyway, and you can’t afford for me to go home, we’re down two waitresses already.’

  ‘I’ll manage just fine,’ he returned just as stubbornly, ‘go home Shelley.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘What do you mean you can’t?’

  ‘I can’t afford to,’ she coughed.

  ‘Shelley,’ he frowned in confusion, ‘you get sick pay, and even if you didn’t, with what I pay you it shouldn’t be a problem.’

  Shelley blinked at him. Her cheeks, already flushed from being unwell, hid her embarrassment as she looked away, unable to stand his piercing gaze.

  ‘Shel,’ his voice softened, ‘what’s going on?’

  ‘I need the extra money, that’s why I’ve picked up all the extra shifts while Jo and Nancy have been off sick.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ he shook his head. ‘Have you got a gambling problem I don’t know about?’ he teased, trying to lighten the tension in her shoulders.

  ‘No,’ she laughed croakily.

  ‘Then what is it?’ he asked sincerely, ‘maybe I can help?’

  ‘You can’t,’ she shook her head, ‘it’s not your problem.’

  ‘Shelley,’ he tried again, ‘you’re my best friend. I always thought you could tell me anything.’