Order of the Black Sun Box Set 9

by Preston William Child

  “There are two cemeteries that have connections with the witch trials. One at Howard Street and one at Charter Street. Both of which are constantly filled with tourists who want to see the old, brittle tombstones. If we're going by your ridiculous logic that the last page was laid with Giles Corey ... then Howard Street is where we'll want to look. It was where he was pressed to death ... and where he was put to rest ... in an unmarked grave. That will make things harder.”

  Purdue shook his head. “So, we find the unmarked grave where Corey was buried and the page will be waiting for us, eh? It works for me but it sounds a bit simple. So simple, that it makes me wonder why you weren't able to find it earlier. Guess you really did need me.”

  “Hardly. We don't even know if you're right yet,” Felicity said, shifting her glare from Purdue to Jean. “And I was missing a crucial piece of that puzzle, remember?”

  “Right,” Jean said. “So, we dig up the crushed man and hope no one notices us robbing his grave. In broad daylight.”

  “We'll wait until night time obviously,” Felicity hissed.

  Purdue chimed in. “On Halloween night ... when this town is crawling with even more people at night than it is during the day. We should wait—”

  “I'm not waiting a day longer!” Felicity slammed her hand on the table. “Not when we're this close. Let's get it and be done with it. If you have a problem with that, then I'll go dig it up myself.”

  “The streets are going to be crawling with people. Trick or treaters and—”

  “What's the matter? You're scared of kids in masks?” Felicity hissed. “Or are you just afraid that Giles Corey's ghost is going to reap your soul if you dig him up? They do say that Corey's spirit still stalks around the grounds where he was pressed to death.”

  Mama May's words sprang to mind: a dead man following him.

  The ghost of a victim of the Salem Witch Trials would certainly qualify as a dead man. The old lady might not have been as crazy as she seemed. Maybe there really was something to all of her predictions.

  Or, of course, it could all just be nonsense that wasn't worth worrying about.

  Purdue stood his ground. “I'm not scared of dead man. I'm just not in the mood to be arrested for desecrating the grave of one of Salem's most famous residents. I also want to be careful taking that risk when it's not even a guarantee that the page is down there with him. It's just like you said when you didn't just dig up all of the victims' graves. We should take some time to really plan it out.”

  “Perhaps...” Jean said, awkwardly cutting in. “Perhaps we can use this night to our advantage. Us digging up a dead man might not be too strange on Halloween, no? And I may have an even better way to help us go unnoticed.”

  Purdue wasn't overly fond of their plan. It was hardly a plan at all. It would be far safer to just wait until a less crowded night to do the deed ... but Felicity was being difficult ... and she had all of the leverage, considering she had most of the pages. As much as he wanted them to work together, he knew Felicity had the most power in their makeshift triumvirate.

  If their search did turn into a confrontation with local authorities or tourists, or any kind of obstruction, at least he had two witches on his side.

  “Okay then,” Purdue said. “We'll go tonight. But here's another thing, aye. His grave is unmarked, how the hell do we expect to find it? I don't think the bones down there are going to have his identification card, do you?”

  Felicity grinned and looked fearless. “Let me worry about that.”

  Once the sun went down, they set out into the streets of Salem on Halloween night. It was just as crowded as Purdue expected. Just about every face they passed and pushed through was wearing a mask. Men, women, and children were all in costumes. Some were going door to door looking for candy while the adults were partying all over town. It was amazing such a small city could contain that amount of people.

  With all of the strange sights to see on Halloween in Salem, no one took any notice of the pair of shovels they were carrying. Some people in their costumes were carrying all manner of props. Knives, chainsaws, even firearms. Shovels were hardly anything to pay attention to.

  It took longer than it should have to get to Howard Street Cemetery. They had to weave in and out of the crowds of celebrators but finally managed to find their way there. The cemetery was quieter than most of the town, which was a relief. There were only a few sporadic visitors throughout the old cemetery. A group of college-age kids laughing loudly in a circle. A couple—one dressed as ketchup, one dressed as mustard—giggling and dancing around the tombstones.

  Everyone was busy and not paying them any mind. That was good.

  They spent the next hour walking along the graves, taking note of the different tomb stones. Felicity had brought a large back with her, slung over her shoulder, and once they had reached the middle of the cemetery, she set it down, and unzipped it. She glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then pulled out a handful of powder from her hands.

  “The hell is that?” Purdue asked, scanning the area nervously.

  “Ash,” Jean said. “It’s connection with life makes it a powerful tool. It can be used for all kinds of things.”

  “Exactly...” Felicity muttered as she cupped it in her hand and held it to her face. “ ... like locating specific corpses.”

  She whispered to the ash, holding it close to her mouth like she was slipping information into someone's ear. She spoke to it for a few minutes, in some strange language that Purdue couldn't quite place, and then stood up, still keeping it close to her mouth.

  Suddenly, Felicity flung her hands into the air and released the ash above her. Purdue expected it to rain down all over her. It wouldn't be pleasant to get ash dumped into your hair; it would be a pain in the ass to get that off of you. He didn't envy what she had done to herself, and was about to question it, but the ash never came down like it should. It hovered above her in the air like a cloud of smoke before miraculously flowing away from her with the breeze, in a wave of particles.

  “Come on,” Felicity said and followed the ash as it shuffled through the air across the cemetery.

  Purdue turned to Jean who just winked. “Magic, my friend, is quite often a shortcut. As you can see, it can solve many problems. Come along. She knows what she is doing.”

  The cloud of ash continued to dance through the night sky. If any onlookers saw them, they would probably think they were going mad. Three grown adults chasing a puff of smoke through a graveyard. Felicity hurried to keep up with it as moved all around the cemetery.

  It hovered over a grave for a moment, and then suddenly dispersed. The ash rained down on the grave site, piling up on the ground.

  “Were those human remains?” Purdue asked, catching up to her.

  “You probably would rather not know,” Felicity said, examining the ash pile. “You probably wouldn't like it.

  “That answers that, aye?” Purdue said. “Understood. So, this is the right grave then?”

  “If my spell worked, then yes.” Felicity said. “But there's only one way to really know for sure. If the page is inside.”

  Purdue looked around. There were silhouettes disperse throughout the cemetery around them. Any number of them would see them digging up the grave and could alert the authorities. It would be difficult to explain to the police why they were desecrating one of unmarked graves from the Salem Witch Trials. They were only some of the most respected, and preserved landmarks, in the whole city.

  “I don't think the darkness of the night is going to be enough,” Purdue mused. “We're not exactly well hidden.”

  “I told you,” Jean said confidently, opening up his own bag. “I had another way to keep our activities out of view. Just trust me, my friend.”

  Jean pulled a number of small, red candles out of his bag and a broad smile stretched across his dark face. He set up his candles all around the unmarked grave site in a circle.

  “As long as we remain
inside the boundaries of the candles ... once they are aflame, they will shroud our presence. We will be unseen and unheard.” He tapped his hand on one of the tombstones, and snickered to himself. “To the rest of the world, we will be silent as the grave.”

  Purdue tried to wrap his head around how it was even possible for it to work but it was pointless to try. He knew that there were so many things in the world that couldn't be explained by any sort of logic or science. Magic should be impossible ... but he'd just seen someone use ash as a GPS and was apparently about to become invisible because of candles. There was no point applying reason to any of it.

  Jean pulled out a lighter and looked to both Purdue and Felicity. “The candles will burn far more quickly than most. Our time will be short once they are lit. Are we ready?”

  “More than ready,” Felicity said. “Let's get on with it.”

  Jean looked to Purdue for confirmation. He wasn't going to go by Felicity's schedule. Despite the amount of pages she had, they were still supposed to be a team. He waited for Purdue's signal. Purdue gripped the shovel tightly and nodded his head.

  Jean lit the candle perimeter one by one, mouthing some foreign language under his breath as he did. It only took a few minutes for all of the candles to be lit. Purdue had expected to look down and not be able to see his body once they were, but everything looked and felt exactly the same as before.

  “Did it work?” Purdue asked.

  “We shall see,” Jean said and turned to a group of visitors nearby. He put his hands to his mouth and let out a sudden holler. “Hello! Anyone hear me?!”

  No one gave any reaction to his shouts. No one even flinched, let alone looked in their direction.

  “Well, look at that.” Purdue gave a whistle. “It actually worked.”

  “You doubted me?” Jean asked.

  “Of course, he did,” Felicity said. “You're hardly a witch at all. You might have just been using a trick you read about in one of your stupid occult books in your store.”

  “That is exactly where I got it from,” Jean said with a shrug. “It was a very good book.”

  “Don't mind her,” Purdue said, shoving his shovel into the ground and digging up a large chunk of grass and dirt. “Consider me very impressed.”

  With the uncertain time limit of the candles around them, they had to move quickly. Purdue dug as fast as he could, heaving mounds of earth and tossing it aside. Six feet was a long way to go with just himself. Jean grabbed his own shovel and started helping him dig into the ground. Felicity, unsurprisingly, just kept reminding them to move faster and never lifted a finger to help them.

  “You want a turn, I'm sure,” Purdue said, offering her the shovel. “You want to feel like you actually put some work in to get the final page, right? Not satisfying if you let other people do the work.”

  “Keep mouthing off, and you'll never see the rest of the book. All of this will have been a waste of all of our time. Keep digging. You, most of all, need to work to at least get one page.”

  Purdue shook his head, not being able to fathom how she could be so stubborn. Although, she did raise a fair point. If he was going to really work with them, he needed to be able to at least get one page. Both Felicity and Jean had. As annoying as Felicity was being, he could put his frustration aside to dig this damn hole.

  It took a couple hours but between he and Jean, they finally had made a sizable hole and hit something hard with their shovels in the dirt.

  “We six feet in?” Purdue called up to Felicity.

  She sat at the top of the open grave, letting her feet dangle in. “I would say so.”

  Purdue tapped the edge of his shovel against the dirt again, listening to the reverberation. He didn't hit it too hard. It was an older grave so whatever casket was in there was probably worn down. He was slightly worried that it would give way beneath their feet, and they would find themselves lying next to a bunch of bones. They dusted off some of the dirt until the wooden casket was mostly visible and exposed.

  “I hope to hell this is you, Giles Corey, or this is going to be an awkward situation.”

  Purdue stood up and looked to Felicity. “You want to come down and open it with us? Already smells great.”

  “I'm good where I am,” Felicity said.

  A group from one of the many ghost tours in Salem was nearby; about a dozen people all listening intently to their tour guide's dramatic performance.

  Purdue felt a cold breeze sting his face and watched as one of the candle's flames contorted in frantic different shapes, barely keeping itself together. If the wind grew any stronger, it would put that candle out with ease.

  “Uh ... Jean...”

  Purdue climbed out of the hole they had made and tried to put himself in front of the candle, hoping to block the wind from getting to the flame. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. The candle's flame tried desperately to cling onto the wick but was practically torn off by the night breeze.

  The candle went out and two more followed suit.

  “Jean!” Purdue called to his friend in the hole, but then shut his mouth and looked around, hoping he hadn't been heard and that the candle's protections remained intact.

  Unfortunately, the magic keeping them undetected had been snuffed out with the flame.

  “Hey!” The ghost tour guide was approaching. He was a young man in a top hat and wearing Victorian-era clothing. He was carrying a lantern, something to help the atmosphere of the spooky tours he conducted through Salem most nights. “What do you think you're doing?”

  As he came closer, his face became visible behind the light of his lantern. He was covered in black and white face paint, giving his visage the appearance of a skull. A ghoulish host of a ghoulish tour.

  “What is this?” The tour guide asked, trying to look past Purdue at the open grave.

  Purdue tried to find the right thing to say. Their whole search depended on him keeping them from being discovered. He went with the only thing that came to mind.

  “We ... we're installing a new part of the tour,” Purdue bumped, doing his best impression of an accent that hopefully sounded somewhat American. “The exploration of the town's burial sites.”

  He didn't know where he pulled that from, but he was overall satisfied with his ploy. He was glad something far more ridiculous hadn't come out of his mouth.

  The tour guide wasn't so easily fooled, though.

  “No one said anything about this to me.” He held the lantern over the hole they dug and saw the coffin laying six feet below in the dirt, and Jean standing on top of it.

  “No? Strange. We've been preparing for this for the past few weeks. Surely someone would have let you know...”

  “They didn't,” the tour guide said, glancing back at his tour group that were waiting for him, looking concerned. “I hadn't heard a peep about any of this. Could really have used a heads up.”

  “I'm sorry,” Purdue said, doing his best to keep his fake accent consistent. It didn't matter how accurate it was. As long as it was consistent, it wouldn't stand out too much or be easily recognized as an act. “Maybe they just forgot to let you know. We're supposed to be working on this for the next year. In time for next October. Going to be mostly night work. Less people at night to bother. And even if the dead are bothered by it ... they can't exactly complain about it, am I right?”

  The tour guide relaxed a little, and stared down at the exposed coffin in the hole. “Wow. It does look great. Very realistic.”

  Jean shot Purdue a nervous glance, but Purdue silently signaled him to play along.

  “Thank you,” Jean said from where he stood in the hole. “The coffin took me months to get right. Now we just need to make sure it settles well and will look great.”

  “Fantastic,” the guide said. “I can't wait to see how it turns out. Good luck!”

  He walked back to his group and the three of them all breathed a little easier. It was too close of a call.

  “I can't believe that wor
ked,” Purdue said.

  Once they were alone again, they finished excavating the grave site, making sure the casket was unearthed enough to be opened. It was after a few minutes, and they all prepared to see what was inside, hoping that the page they were looking for would be right there waiting for them.

  They pried open the coffin and were immediately met by a terrible, putrid stench. It practically erupted from the exposed coffin and forced its way into their nostrils. Purdue felt like he was about to puke and put his hands over his face. It wasn't a very effective form of protection.

  Purdue gagged and let out a muffled shout from behind his hands. “What an incredible smell we've discovered!”

  Jean was clearly just as disgusted, hunched over and ready to hurl. Felicity kept a safe distance from the reeking innards of the coffin, barely peeking down into the hole from six feet above them. She was staring at the coffin's contents uneasily.

  Jean shifted around some of the dirt and bones with his foot. “I do not see anything.”

  Purdue crouched down, doing his best to endure the foul stench flooding his airways. He put on a pair of latex gloves and picked up some of the bones in the coffin. If this really was Giles Corey ... then the man had seen better days, but given the way he died, he'd definitely seen worse days too.

  Purdue examined the bones one by one. He tossed aside what looked like a jawbone and saw something underneath another little pile of sand and remains. Something that looked less decayed than everything else in the coffin. He drove his hand into the mud and took hold of the object, peeling it out of the dirt.

  A piece of paper covered in the familiar crazed handwriting belonging to Mona Greer—a page of her personal journal, protected and preserved through ancient magics.

  “Is that it?!” Felicity asked happily. It was the first time she smiled since they'd been there. “It is, isn't it? It is!”

  “It sure looks like it,” Purdue said, holding it out for Jean.

  Jean took it in his hands, holding it like it was a fragile little bird that he didn't want to crush. Of course, his handling of it wouldn't have mattered. He couldn't have torn a real page from the book of shadows even if he tried.