by J. Thorn
“’Cause he be the real evil, Mary. Him be the hidden evil, the son of Satan.”
“You’ve seen him too?” Mary asked.
“Gaki,” replied Tituba.
“What does he want from us? From Salem? Why is he killing our babies?”
“You know,” said Tituba. “You know what he wants. Him want to cleanse the soil for the opening of the Portal, needs a coven to help him rid the land of the righteous. Then he give us da power.”
“I don’t know if I want that.”
“Aye, but he does. He knows of the special blood in your veins, Mary. Gaki recognizes the power within you but he cannot sway your allegiance. You must decide, and should you not sign his book, he shall try to destroy you. This,” Tituba said while looking around the cell with her eyes, “this is meant to control you until you make up your mind.”
“Why would I sign his book and commit to evil? That isn’t a choice.”
“Tis all a choice, young Mary Walcott. Those that sign his book rule over the dark worlds and they live forever.”
Constable Herrick opened the door to the jail, flooding the recessed, darkened pit with natural light and putting an end to the conversation between Mary and Tituba.
***
Abigail gathered the other girls near the edge of the south fields before the evening meal. They came through the trees in roundabout ways in order to hide from the prying eyes of Salem’s adults. She wore her cap tight on her head, her dark, flowing hair contained within the fabric of modesty. Abigail waited for a few more girls to arrive before sitting on a fallen trunk at the tree line.
“We danced. That is all. We are the afflicted and we shall identify those that have made covenant with the Devil. We will not reveal our dancing in the woods around the fire with Tituba.”
“But we did, Abby. We did dance around the fire,” replied Bridget.
Abigail slapped the girl across the face and then looked at the others as if daring another to speak.
“We did not, Bridget; unless you want to end up like your cousin, chained and waiting to hang for signing his book.”
The girls fell silent and Bridget rubbed her cheek.
“I say again. We danced and that is all we did. Sure, we may be whipped for the dancing but we were not with Tituba and we did not compact with the devil.”
Abigail turned and walked from the circle back toward the village.
***
He watched her leave the group, his eyes focusing on her rear. He had not lain with her, but she would be next. That one carried a raw power that could help intensify and open the Portal. Gaki knew Mary was the key to his success on this plane, but he would not underestimate Abigail’s strength. He made that mistake before and it cost him thousands of years of preparation. Opening the Portal in this time, in this place, would serve him well. Gaki imagined the demons coming through and grazing upon the virgins like hungry bulls. He would partake in the flesh as well as the feces.
The other girls scattered and Gaki felt the appendage between his legs grow. He took a step toward the group and then stopped. Gaki did not like to throttle his desires, but they would have to wait if he was going to gorge on the souls taken when the Portal opened.
The other girls followed Abby back to the village center, leaving Gaki alone in the forest. He turned and motioned to his minions. They slithered from the trees like filthy, upright snakes dancing in the darkness. The gakis gathered around, hissing and waiting for his command. He did not need to communicate verbally but chose to do so in order to break the silence in the woods. Gaki loved the chaos, the maelstrom; he did not care much for tranquility.
“The fear must intensify. The sightings and accusations need to increase so that more will stand trial and eventually hang. The Portal will only open when fed their life energy. We need to quicken the hysteria and rush them to the gallows.”
The beasts purred and moved amongst his feet like cursed cats.
“Partake only of those I signify. I will satiate your desires when the Portal opens. Until then, you are my subordinates.”
The demons bared their tiny teeth and gnashed at the air before scattering throughout the forest that surrounded the village. Gaki waited until the last of them oozed back into the night before turning and looking at the jail. It was time to pay a visit to Mary Walcott.
***
Constable Herrick checked on the women and then locked the door for the night. Once he left, Tituba fell into a fitful sleep punctuated by snores and grunts. Mary wished she could sleep as well, but the iron shackles dug into the flesh on her wrists and the pain kept her awake. She guessed that it wasn’t the first time Tituba had fallen asleep in chains.
“She knows.”
Mary turned toward the door and the voice coming from behind it. The sound made her skin crawl and brought a rolling wave to her empty stomach that threatened to make her retch.
“Go away,” she whispered.
The door opened and the creature’s bluish-gray skin glowed like an obscene moon. She saw his bulbous head and could smell the feces smeared across his face like a profane beard. Gaki’s thin, spindly arms floated at his sides while his distended abdomen jutted out above his waist. He abandoned the black cape and hat, and Mary believed it was because his true nature had already been revealed to her cell mate.
“I need you, Mary Walcott.”
“You need nothing but sorrow.”
“The Portal, the devae: they need you.”
Mary looked again at Tituba, sound asleep on the other side of the cell. The slave woman expelled gas and Gaki sauntered over to draw an exaggerated breath.
“I’m going to hang.”
Gaki smiled, inhaling the stench in the cell. He waved a long finger in front of his face as a wicked smile spread to the corners of his mouth.
“I will not let you hang before the Portal opens. Others, however. Yes, others must die.”
“You want me to sell my soul and I cannot. I will not partake of your grotesque plans.”
“Then maybe Bridget will. Surely after all of the stories you’ve told her about the red devils she has learned something of the black arts. Yes, I believe the noose will fit her slender neck.”
“You leave her be,” Mary said. “She is but a child.”
“As are you, Mary Walcott. We are all children on this plane.”
Mary shuddered as Gaki stepped closer. His breath smelled of rotting disease, moldy corn husks, and pallid death.
“I need you to help bring more people to the gallows, to help open the Portal. You don’t need to do much, my lady. The Chief Justice accepts spectral evidence in The Court of Oyer and Terminer.”
“So?”
“So give it. Accuse others of using their spirits to torture you.”
“Can you not see that I am shackled to the wall, charged with the very crime you want me to perpetrate on others?”
“A confession will save you,” replied Gaki. “Hale shall persuade Reverend Parris to set you free, and you will testify of the spectral attacks that shall put others in the noose.”
“Why? Why would I do that if you’re going to ravage the lands anyways?”
“I’ll show you.”
Mary blinked and the next moment she stood on a vast open plain. Night fell and the first stars appeared on the eastern horizon. The moon hung low and she spun to see Gaki standing next to her.
“This is what the opening of the Portal will look like.”
Mary nodded and rubbed her wrists, which were now free of shackles and raw skin.
“Tis vacant, that is all.”
“Ah,” replied Gaki. He chuckled beneath his breath. “This is vacant, my dear. This is the plane after the Fall. This,” he said spreading his arms, “this is what it is like when the Portal opens.”
She felt a brisk wind blow and it brought screams of death. Mary could not make out individual words or phrases, but she felt the finality in the guttural, base sounds. She heard the death throes of thousands of people.
Before she could cover her ears, Gaki waved an arm and a scene appeared on the blank canvas of the desert. Thousands of gakis chased humans. They looked and dressed differently than Mary, some with fancy spectacles, sparkling jewels and riding in horseless carriages while others held objects to the side of their heads. Mary watched as structures rose from the sand and poked into the night sky with bright, flameless lanterns turning night into day. She stood in the middle of the chaos as the gakis jumped upon the people in the vision, tearing flesh from their backs. Others captured and pinned women to the ground where the creatures did ungodly acts before disemboweling them. Mary put her hands to her head but she could not keep the sounds out. Men, women, and children screamed and ran in all directions while gakis wrestled them to the ground. She looked at Gaki and he smiled, nodding his head back and forth.
“Another plane of existence, for certain. But you can see the fate of those not enthralled to me.”
“Take me back.”
Gaki chuckled again and looked upon the scene as more demons flooded the artificial, black stone in hopes of tearing more humans into ragged pieces.
“Yes, let’s return,” he said.
Mary sighed and closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were back in the cell along with a sleeping Tituba.
“Is that the fate you desire? Is that the end you’ll accept?”
She shook and a tear trailed down the left side of her face.
“I cannot decide now.”
“I will return tomorrow night to speak again. In the meantime, the Black Man needs to find a few more souls to sign his book. I believe Captain Jonathan Walcott and his wife would benefit from an association with him and his red devils. Don’t you agree?”
Gaki turned and left Mary shackled to the wall, bound by chains and the fear of the demon’s most heinous intentions.
***
She awoke to the shouts and cries from outside the jail. Tituba was staring at her with a wide, open mouth. Mary hissed and felt the pain in her neck flare, making it hard to raise her head.
“He was in here last night, wasn’t he?”
“Yes,” Mary said. She tried to hear the source of the disturbance outside.
“He want you to sign his book, does he not?”
“Aye, he does.”
“Ha! Are you gonna be the Black Man’s, Mary Walcott? Are you gonna wear the mark?”
“What is happening?” Mary asked.
“Hangings,” replied Tituba.
***
The town gathered at the top of Gallows Hill for an unusual morning hanging. Stoughton issued the death sentence to three citizens of Salem and Constable Herrick marched them to the steps. The judges stood nearby, dressed completely in black with stoic faces and hardened eyes. The townspeople shouted and jeered, some yelling insults while others whispered prayers. Rebecca Nurse, Susannah Martin, and Elizabeth Howe walked toward the platform, each scanning the crowd for their loved ones. Reverend Hale said a prayer and made the sign of the cross before getting on his horse and riding back into town. Samuel Parris nodded to Herrick as his deputies placed the nooses around the necks of the three women. The crowd hushed as the Reverend spoke.
“The King’s Majesty’s court has found you guilty of witchcraft and sentenced you to hang. What say you, Rebecca Nurse, Susannah Martin, Elizabeth Howe?”
The women stood silently while the people waited. When several moments passed, Rebecca Nurse spoke up.
“Our father, who art in Heaven. Hallowed be thy name.”
Susannah and Elizabeth joined her as the deputies tightened the noose around their throats.
“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done. On Earth as it is in heaven.”
Stoughton nodded and one by one, the deputies pushed the women off the platform until they dangled eight feet above the ground. The crowd bellowed, the sounds drowning out the Lord’s Prayer and those citing it in their final moments. Reverend Hale, still within earshot of the gallows, stopped when he heard the commotion. He looked at the women’s feet gyrating as their bodies twitched for several more moments before becoming still.
“May God have mercy on their souls,” said Reverend Parris. He rubbed his eyes and struggled to silence his own internal doubts.
***
Tituba smiled at Mary and shook her head back and forth.
“Once dey start the hangings, they can’t git enough. Won’t be long ‘fore they come to place the noose around our necks.”
Mary winced and turned away. She tried standing until the shackles bit into her wrists.
“I must leave this place.”
“Aye, you must,” said Tituba. “No one in da jail ever be guilty of the crimes.”
“I’m not a witch,” replied Mary.
“But you had relations with the Black Man. I know dis.”
“I was corrupted. Tis not of my own choosing.”
“That matters none to the magistrate and the men of the Holy Book. Your covenant is bonded in blood and they’ll find a mark on you. Sure enough, they’ll find a mark.”
Mary dropped her head and listened to the cries coming from Gallows Hill. She hoped they’d be loud enough to drown out her own.
“There be others that fight against the Black Man and his red devils.”
Mary looked at Tituba. She sighed and shook her head until dirty clumps of hair hung in front of her face. She spit.
“You lie.”
“I do not. Dey call demselves Hunters.”
“What do they hunt?” Mary asked.
“What do you think, child? Dey hunt Gaki.”
Mary giggled and then let the laughter explode into rage. She could still hear the commotion coming from Gallows Hill. It seemed as though Constable Herrick was keeping very busy these days.
“Are they here, in Salem?”
“I do not know.”
Mary laughed and yanked on the iron chain keeping her in the cell.
“You do, slave. You do and you’d better tell me.”
“Ahh, you’s such a white child. You don’t think the threat of captivity is going to frighten me, do you?”
It was now Tituba’s turn to erupt into boisterous laughter.
“Please, Tituba. I need to know we still have hope, that Salem has hope, that my future descendants have hope.”
“I’m not a harbinger of hope, young one. But I can tell you the stories from my people, the legends of long gone days.”
Mary nodded and bit her bottom lip, waiting for Tituba to begin.
“I comes from a long line of seers from the southern tribes. We spent many generations livin’ in the islands that Cristóbal Colón landed upon. Many of us folks never survived the pox he brought with him. But dat be a story for another day.
“My people decorated their bodies with ink and piercings to honor our gods. We believed that the sun and moon came from da caves. But the people, they stayed inside afraid that the sun would turn them into demons. The people also believed that they came from the union of Deminán Caracaracol. The first flood brought devastation to the world when a father murdered his son. The father put his son's bones into a gourd and the bones turned into fish, the gourd broke, and all the water of the world came pouring out. When our people died, they believed the Jupias, the souls of the dead, would go to Coaybay, the underworld, and rest during the day. At night they would arise in the form of bats.”
“And what of the Black Man? Was he there, with your people?” Mary asked.
“You want to know of the Hunters. But first, you must know what they hunt. Different peoples have different names for him but they all sound filthy. Da one now, Gaki, dat is good as any other so we call him so.
“Caves above the shore is where my peoples came from, up out of the ground with the first fires of da world. The Caribbean was our universe, and as peaceful as our ancestors were, there were always stories of corruption.”
“The Black Man?” Mary asked.
“Aye. But they called him Ciboney, the master dwell
er of the cave. Ciboney came from the underworld where the wicked play and burn in da fires.”
“Hell?”
Tituba nodded and continued.
“People would see Ciboney creepin’ on the beaches, late at night and early in the morn. He would appear, dark, thin, and loping. The Pe-i-man, da one you call shaman, he would sense the arrival of Ciboney and warn da people to hide, to stay in the huts when he was around. But you know people and their curious ways. Instead of listening to Pe-i-man they confronted Ciboney.”
“What did he do?”
“What you think, child? He be corruptin’ da souls like he does in Salem. Once Ciboney start to talkin’, folks be caught in his grip. He make da people jealous, angry, and greedy. Da greed would be so much dat they would not stop. Ever. As time went on and the Pe-i-man was unable to keep da people from Ciboney, he decided it was time to fight the evil. The problem is that the more people Ciboney changed, the fewer there were to help the Pe-i-man fight. And so, many of my people were lost in the years when he first arrived.”
“When?”
“Many believe on the floating city that brought the Spanish. Many of my people believe Columbus be da Ciboney. Da white man brought the destruction.”
“We call him the Black Man in Salem.”
“Yes,” replied Tituba. “No doubt because da white people see the red devils as darkies and the most important one, he be the Black Man.”
“Go on,” said Mary.
“The Pe-i-man gathered the few of da people that could resist Ciboney’s persuasions and they fled to the caves in hopes of destroying the evil where it began. They set out to hunt Ciboney.”
“The first Hunters.”
“Maybe. Da first of my people to call themselves Hunters, but I believe there is white man here in da colony that be Hunters too.”
“Who?” Mary asked.
“I don’t know child, but I feel dem. And dey come for me.”
The realization struck Mary and she leaned back against the cold wall of the cell.
“So you’re with Ciboney. You belong to the Black Man,” Mary whispered.
“Aye,” replied Tituba. “I signed his book.”
“Then why are you telling me this?”
“’Cause you still have a choice child. I don’t. My soul belong to the Black Man. To Ciboney. To Gaki.”