“You reached out to them with the power of love, which is the power of all life,” Weni said. “If they didn’t want love, if they didn’t want life, they would not have return. They made the choice to return. And so it was.”
“But. . .” Em started. Weni stopped her protest with a wave of his pipe.
“The only person who had no choice was you, Martha of Truth,” Weni said. “Only you were required to return, due to your blood lineage.”
Em shook her head as if she couldn’t believe it.
“You didn’t want to come back?” George asked.
“Uh . . .” Em said. She glanced at Weni, and he nodded to encourage her. “I was exhausted. I felt as if the core had been ripped out of me when you died. I had looked forward to a long sleep and a conversation with Jesus. I didn’t know you or any of them would come back, George.”
George gave her a soft smile.
“This is your father’s fault,” Weni shook his head. “In that way, it is my fault.”
He patted her hand.
“I apologize for my harsh words and attitude,” Weni said and sat back down on the stump. “I did not realize how much you do not know. Tell me again. This spirit stated that they had been awakened. He believed that, if you found the third, they would all come back — or you made that up.”
“How did you know?” Em asked.
Weni waved his pipe as if her question was irrelevant. He gave a deep, chest-rattling cough before he started puffing again.
“Yes,” George said. “He believed that, if we found John Proctor’s remains, he and Rebecca would rise.”
“Your fear is?” Weni asked.
George shook his head and shrugged. Em blushed and looked away.
“Martha of Truth?” Weni asked.
She looked at him, and he nodded to encourage her again.
“That’s a spell, isn’t it?” Em asked.
“It is,” Weni said. “Does it work?”
“Yes,” Em said. “I am afraid that John has been alive all this time but is trapped under the dirt for more than three hundred years of horror.”
“Ah,” Weni said. “Wouldn’t that be awful?”
“Yes, it would,” Em said.
“He is not alive now and has not been alive,” Weni said. “Does this George Jacobs want to return to life?”
“I don’t know,” Em said.
Weni gave an exaggerated sigh and puffed on his pipe. George and Em gawked at the man. Finally, he rolled his eyes up as if to implore the heavens.
“You can ask him,” Weni said.
“How?” Em asked. “The witches are scattered.”
“Yes, I wondered about that,” Weni said.
“What do you mean?” Em asked.
“I wondered if your demon was going to attack your witches while they were wandering this hill,” Weni said.
“He cannot,” Em said.
“You have protected them?” Weni smiled.
Em nodded.
“I did, as well,” Weni said with a little chuckle. “Well, let’s ask this George Jacobs.”
“How?” George Burroughs asked.
“Turn your palm over, Reverend,” Weni said.
George held his hand palm side up.
“Demand his presence,” Weni said.
“How?” George Burroughs asked.
“State his name,” Weni said. “You are his minister and his friend. You have his allegiance. You only have to demand his attention.”
“Oh,” George said. He cleared his throat. “George Jacobs.”
A seven-inch high apparition of George Jacobs appeared on George Burroughs’ hand.
“Reverend?” George Jacobs asked.
“I’m wondering if you’d like to return to Earth in human form,” George Burroughs asked.
“Or wander in this grey?” George Jacobs asked.
“Good question,” George Burroughs said. He looked at Weni. “Can he be put to rest?”
“Of course,” Weni said, with a flourish of his pipe.
“Did you hear that?” George Burroughs asked.
“I can be put to rest or come back,” George Jacobs asked. “I don’t mean to be difficult, but I wonder if I am put to rest — will I be brought back?”
“No,” Weni said.
“He says ‘No,’” George Burroughs said.
“Who said, ‘No’?” George Jacobs asked.
“Em’s teacher,” George Burroughs said.
“Em’s teacher?” George Jacobs asked.
George nodded.
“All right, Em’s teacher: Why do you say we cannot be revived after being set to rest?” George Jacobs asked.
“You were placed after death — is that correct?” Weni asked.
“Yes,” Em said.
“I don’t know,” seven-inch-high George Jacobs said.
“Then your remains were taken by your family and buried,” Weni said.
“That’s correct,” Em said.
“And moved again,” Weni said. “Isn’t that correct?”
“Yes,” Em said.
“He was never put to rest,” Weni said.
“What does that mean?” George Burroughs asked.
“He was placed by his tormentors in a mass grave,” Weni said. “He was pulled away by family who buried him in secret, without ritual. Then, his physical remains were discovered and reburied. Where is the rest?”
“I think he’s saying that we can put you to rest, if you’d like,” Em said.
“Rebecca as well?” George Jacobs asked.
“Of course,” Em said. She glanced at Weni and he nodded.
“If it’s all the same to you,” George Jacobs nodded, “I’d rather rest. I was a grandfather when I was hanged. If I were a young man, I’d relish the adventure. But for now, I’d rather just rest.”
“Done,” Weni said and hopped to his feet.
“Thank you,” George Jacobs said. He gave a little bow and disappeared.
“We have work to do,” Weni said.
George and Em didn’t move. They looked at him. Weni gave them a toothy smile.
“What work, Weni?” Weni asked in an exact imitation of Em’s voice. “Martha of Truth, you only have to ask. First, we need to find this John Proctor and ask him the same question. If we find him, we will put his soul to rest, and then call the universities. They will spend a few decades arguing with each other. That will keep the demons away.”
Weni smiled.
“What do we do next, Weni?” Weni asked in an exact imitation of George’s voice. “We will find this George Jacobs and give him what he has asked for. And this Rebecca? We will give her peace as well. Good thing you’re wearing your finery.”
Weni tapped out the ashes from his pipe. He looked at George and then looked at Em. Hopping to his feet, he took off into the forest.
“Come along,” Weni yelled after them.
Em sprinted after him. She ran about ten yards when she found him standing in the cover of the trees. She checked herself and stopped fast. George stopped next to her. They were standing on the edge of a clearing. Before them stood the young man, John Parker. He was waving his hands in the air and calling out to the sky. Demons of every shape and size circled him like a murder of crows over carrion.
Across the clearing, the trees shook as if struck by a violent wind. Bridget and Mary Ayer came to an abrupt stop. Martha Carrier and Alice stopped next to them. Margaret and Sam stopped short of entering the clearing on their right. Sarah Wildes was looking at the map when Shonelle came within a foot of the clearing. Sarah Wildes grabbed Shonelle before she stepped into the clearing. Shonelle saw John Parker and tried to get free.
“Give her sight,” Weni said.
Shonelle saw the demons for the first time. She squelched a scream and threw herself into Sarah Wildes’ arms.
“Forget,” Sarah Wildes whispered.
Shonelle stopped shaking in Sarah Wildes’ arms. Sarah gave Weni a dark look. He shrugged at her
concern.
“This is an Indian burial ground. No wonder you were frightened!” Sarah Wildes said. Shonelle stepped back. Sarah Wildes led her away. “You have a real knack for this. You must be intuitive.”
“Em’s said that before,” Shonelle’s voice came back to the clearing. “I’ve heard it runs in my family.”
The witches stared at each other in silence until Sarah Wildes and Shonelle were away from the clearing.
“What’s he doing?” George asked Weni.
“He is trying to capture your John Proctor’s soul,” Weni said. “Is there anything special about this soul?”
“Not that I know of,” Em said.
George shook his head.
“What did he do in life?” Weni asked.
“He owned a pub,” George said.
“He farmed large tracts of land,” Em said.
“Nothing else?” Weni asked.
“Anyone?” Em whispered. “Is there anything special about John Proctor?”
From across the clearing, the witches shook their heads. Weni stared at the man in front of them.
“Huh,” Weni said. “This John Parker is very . . .”
Em turned to look at the man.
“Inept,” Weni said. “It surprises me. He is the last of his kind, the leader of an army of demons, and he cannot wield a simple spell.”
Weni took a breath and pushed Em out into the clearing. Em tried to scoot back to protection, but Weni blocked her way.
“We meet again,” John Parker said.
Em turned around to look at him.
“I am in your ear,” Weni said.
Em nodded that she’d heard him.
“Were you looking for this?” John Parker asked.
He raised his arm. He was holding the spirit of John Proctor by the throat.
“I found him,” John Parker said. “He is now ours!”
He lifted John Proctor’s spirit over his head. The demons screeched with glee at the sight of the spirit of John Proctor. Dark clouds began to gather overhead.
“What are you going to do about it?” John Parker asked. Em didn’t move or say anything. “I see that you’re intimidated. I’d be intimidated, too.”
“Don’t make me come and get him,” Em said in a soft voice.
John Parker gave her a taunting laugh. The demons screeched an even more evil laugh. Em started to smile.
“You can’t do anything about it,” John Parker laughed.
Em grinned and took a step toward him.
Chapter Twenty
Feeling movement behind her, Em turned to see Alice step to her side.
“Give no place to this devil!” Alice shouted a verse from Ephesians in the Geneva Bible. She took another step toward John Parker.
Much to Em’s surprise, the rest of the witches moved in a circle toward John Parker, as well. Em took another step, and the witches followed. The demons howled. Dark storm clouds blotted out the clear summer sky. The wind whipped through the clearing, leaving a heavy mist in its wake.
“Put on the whole armor of God, that ye may be able to stand against the assaults of the devil.” To encourage them, George quoted Ephesians 6:11 at the top of his lungs.
Lightning cracked. Freezing rain began to fall from the sky. Alice hooted.
“I’ve spent my entire life preparing for this fight!” Alice yelled with glee. She pointed at John Parker. “Get behind. . .”
“. . .me, Satan!” the rest of the witches joined in Alice’s quote of Matthew 16.
John Parker screamed with rage. George laughed. Mary Ayer clapped her hands with glee. Em looked from face to face. Her witches were enthralled. As Alice had said, their Puritan background had prepared them for a battle with Satan. Em felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for her friends. John Parker and his demons did not know what they were in for.
“Thou art offensive to me!” the witches said in unison. Em joined in, “Because thou understandest not the things that are of God.”
“Go on, Em,” George yelled.
“We’ve got your back!” Elizabeth yelled.
Em set out across the clearing. The wind buffeted, and the freezing rain pummeled Em. The fog deepened until she could see only the grey contrast of the young man’s outline. She filled her left hand with light and raised it over her head.
“You do not frighten me!” John Parker yelled over the wind. “You cannot destroy me!”
The light in her hand reflected off the fog, transforming everything into shimmering white. John Parker was invisible. She doused the light.
“Take up your shield of Faith,” George yelled another line from Ephesians 6 to encourage her. The others joined him in quoting, “wherewith ye may quench all the fiery darts of the wicked.”
Martha Carrier began singing the Puritan hymn “My Refuge Is the God of Love” by Isaac Watts. Her lone voice was joined by Susannah’s before she finished the first line. The other witches joined in. While they sang, Em continued to move through the fog. She’d reached the area where John Parker had been holding John Proctor’s spirit when they finished the song.
“Be strong, Em.” George’s voice came to her through the fog.
The witches cheered. A sharp crack of lightning cast a flash of gleaming light in the clearing. When the dark returned, Em saw that John Parker was standing less than a foot from her. She stepped back.
“I have captured his soul,” John Parker screamed over the wind. Holding John Proctor’s spirit by the neck, John Parker raised the ghost above his head. “And he will live in hell forever!”
“John?” Em asked.
“What?” John Parker and John Proctor asked at the same time.
“Sorry, young man,” Em said. “I was speaking to my friend, Proctor.”
John Parker sneered and lunged at her. Em stepped aside with ease. She opened her right hand and put John Parker into a restful sleep. She waited until his eyes closed before turning to her friend.
“Em?” John Proctor asked.
“It’s me, Proctor,” Em said. “We were transformed into immortal witches the night we were hanged.”
“I recall,” John Proctor said.
“You do?” Em asked.
“You asked me if I wanted an immortal life,” John Proctor said.
“I did?”
“You don’t remember?” John Proctor asked.
“No,” Em shook her head.
John Proctor’s mouth bent into a smile. With John Parker’s hand tight around his throat, Proctor’s face and bald head looked like a hand-drawn face on a flesh-colored balloon. She scowled.
“I was dozing when I saw the light,” Proctor said. “Your light. It was bright behind my eyelids. When I opened my eyes, I heard your voice ask me if I’d like to return.”
Shrugging, Em shook her head. When the young man holding John Proctor’s spirit growled, Em looked up at him. John Parker’s eyes had rolled back into his head, and he was foaming at the mouth. Em glanced at the others. Their faces held their horror and concern for the young man.
“I said ‘No,’ of course,” Proctor said.
“Why ‘of course’?” Em asked.
“Three wives? Seventeen children?” Proctor asked. “The never-ending bickering between my older children and my beloved Elizabeth? Not to mention the Godforsaken pub and that worthless Thomas Putnam trying to steal my land! I fought with him for years over that land. A few lies from his evil daughter and wife, and the land was his. All of my hard work lost to that lying. . . Let’s just say that I was ready for a long rest and a much-deserved visit with my Lord.”
“I hear you,” Em said.
“Are you here to remember?” Proctor asked.
“No, Proctor,” Em said. “I have an issue with a demon or two.”
“Is that what’s happening?” John Proctor’s eyes looked up. “That’s a lot of demons.”
Em nodded.
“Did you take care of Putnam for me?” Proctor asked.
Em g
ave him a curt nod.
“Are you coming back?” Em asked.
“Not if I can help it,” Proctor said. “Can you. . .?”
“Done,” Em said. She smiled. “We’re settling George Jacobs and Rebecca Nurse tonight. We’ll take care of you, too. After tonight, you should rest in peace. I’m sorry it has taken us so long. We didn’t know you were here.”
“Better now than never,” John Proctor said. “You’re a good friend, Martha Corey. Thanks.”
“It will be my pleasure,” Em said. “My only hope is that you rest in well-deserved peace.”
“Can you release me from this idiot?”
Em snapped her fingers. As if his hand had been burned, John Parker’s fingers popped open. John Proctor was released from his grasp. The demons dove toward Proctor’s spirit. Em clapped her hands, and Proctor disappeared.
“This is between you and me!” Em turned to face her demon. “Not them.”
She pointed at the demon, and the demon gave an evil laugh. John Parker started screaming at the top of his lungs. He clutched his head and fell to the ground.
“What is it?” Margaret yelled.
“Looks like some kind of stroke!” George said.
The young man writhed on the ground. Em tried to kneel down to help him but met her demon instead. The demon rose up and pushed Em off her feet. She fell back on her rear. The demon towered over her. The demon’s presence threatened to overwhelm her.
“Put on the whole armor of God,” George’s voice came from some faraway place.
Em gawked at the horrifying demon.
“You are a witch,” the demon said. “Your powers can change stone into bread and even revive the dead. You are not of your God. You are of me. And I say to you, my child, come with me, and we shall be as one.”
Em felt tears well in her eyes. She felt the gaping overwhelm of being betrayed by her friends and townspeople. She felt her own impotence. Mostly, she felt completely and totally alone.
“Why did you take my family, my kin?” Em asked the first thing that came into her mind. Her voice rose, and she asked again, “Why did you kill every single one of them?”
Shaking with rage, she got to her feet.
“Why did you take all of them?” Em asked
“Who?” Her demon looked confused. “Who?”
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