Suffer a Witch

by Claudia Hall Christian

  Martha Carrier smiled at Alice but held her tongue.

  “Come on. Em made some of her triple-ginger cookies,” Alice said. “We’ll have them with our tea.”

  She hooked arms with Martha Carrier, and they left the room. A few minutes later, Em heard them laugh. She let out a breath. With her breath, her sorrow came flowing out. Her mind flashed through a horrible slideshow of the sights, sounds, and sensations of her hanging day. She wept for herself, before weeping for her community. It had never occurred to her that this thing — this Salem Witch Trial thing — had happened to everyone. She was so lost in her sorrow that she didn’t realize that Martha Carrier had returned until she spoke.

  “Should I call George?” Martha Carrier asked.

  Em shook her head and tried to reel in her sorrow.

  “You’ve never grieved,” Martha Carrier said. She knelt down next to Em’s chair. “The year we spent in the barn, you were off in Boston trying to make a life for us. We were a wreck. We didn’t have to stay together. We did because we were too grief-stricken to do anything else. You’ve never had a chance to feel all of it.”

  Tears still falling from her eyes, Em could only look at Martha Carrier. Em gave a slow nod.

  “Have you ever talked to anyone about it?” Martha Carrier asked. “About all of it? Henry and George and Giles, the Indians, and all of the crap that happened after Salem Village? Have you told anyone the whole damned thing?”

  “I wouldn’t know what to say,” Em whispered.

  Em shook her head. Martha hugged Em. She sat at Em’s feet to give her company in her sorrow. By the time Alice returned, Em was more stable.

  “Where did you disappear to, Martha?” Alice asked in a playful voice.

  Seeing Em’s sorrow and Martha at her feet, Alice gave a slow shake of her head. She set down the tray with a pot of tea and cups she’d been carrying and went to Em. Alice sat on one of the arms of the chair and put her arm around Em.

  “What’s going on?” Mary Ayer asked as she entered the room.

  “Em’s sadness caught up to her,” Alice said. She mouthed, “Finally.”

  Mary Ayer nodded. She set down the tray with plates of various cookies on it. She took a seat on the other arm of the chair. For a few moments, they sat in close communion with Em. When Em felt a little clearer, she took a breath.

  “How about some tea?” Em asked. She wiped her eyes.

  “Of course.” Alice kissed Em’s cheek and went to pour tea.

  Martha Carrier held up a box of Kleenex, and Em blew her nose. They were silent until Alice brought tea. They fell into a companionable silence while they enjoyed their warm tea and bright fire on a cold January night.

  “Did you get what you needed, Em?” Mary Ayer said in a soft voice, breaking the silence.

  “I believe so,” Em said.

  “Can I help with anything?” Mary Ayer asked.

  “I’m not sure, Mary,” Em said. “Probably. I’m not sure what, though. I have to think it through first.”

  “Can you tell us anything?” Alice asked.

  “I don’t ever want to go back to Salem Village,” Em said.

  “The smell alone will keep me away!” Martha Carrier said with a laugh.

  “I have to say. . .” Alice started. She sniffed back a tear. “I think of that time as the best days of my life. Everything was exactly how I wanted my life to be. But. . .”

  Alice nodded. Her face broke out into a wide smile.

  “I loved my John and my babies, but good Lord, just the smell alone was awful,” Alice said. “The people were so horrible. . .”

  “Small minded,” Mary Ayer said with a companionable nod. “I don’t think I would have ever thought that until we went back.”

  “We were all so caught up in our fight with the church,” Em said.

  “King James and his horrible bible,” Martha Carrier said. “We were so sure.”

  “About everything,” Alice said with a nod.

  “Exactly,” Em said.

  “You have to remember, though,” Mary Ayer said. “At that time, most real information was managed by the Royal Family. We didn’t have the kind of freedom of information that we have now. We didn’t know about other places in the world. We only knew about ourselves.”

  “It was a different time,” Em said.

  “Did you see Ann Putnam, Junior?” Martha Carrier asked.

  “No!” Em said with a startled laugh. “Was she there?”

  “With her other horrible accusing compatriots, may they rot in hell forever. Even George Jacob’s miserable granddaughter was there,” Martha Carrier said. “I wanted to scratch their eyes out.”

  “Oh, I did that,” Mary Ayer said.

  “You did not!” Em said in incredulous surprise.

  “Oh yes, I did.” Mary Ayer nodded. “They clearly didn’t need eyes to make their determinations of the world.”

  “Or to murder twenty people,” Martha Carrier sniffed.

  “Did you really hurt them?” Alice asked.

  “Permanently disfigured one or two of them,” Mary Ayer said with an angry sniff.

  “Are you ever going to tell us what you did to Ann Putnam Junior’s parents?” Alice asked Em.

  “Why are you always so sure that I was the one who did something to them?” Em tried for an indignant voice, but it came out as a laugh.

  “Who else could it have been?” Mary Ayer asked. “We were together in the barn. Alice was on some island off the coast of North Carolina. It had to be you.”

  Smiling, Em shook her head.

  “Oh, forget her,” Alice said. “It was probably Isaac, anyway.”

  Em snorted a surprised laugh.

  “Isaac did something to the Putnams?” Mary Ayer asked. “Peaceful, wonderful Isaac?”

  Em shook her head. Martha Carrier got up from her spot at Em’s feet.

  “Is there more tea?” Martha Carrier asked.

  “Under the cozy,” Mary Ayer said. “I thought we could use at least two pots.”

  Martha Carrier gave Mary Ayer a soft smile. She touched Em’s shoulder before going to the tea tray. Alice picked up the plate of cookies and passed it around. Soon they were eating cookies and drinking tea. They had settled next to the fire when Mary Ayer gave a big sigh. They turned to look at her.

  “So what did Isaac do to the Putnams?” Mary Ayer asked.

  “I will never tell,” Em said. “After all. . .”

  “How do you know it was him?” Alice, Martha Carrier, and Mary Ayer said.

  They laughed and settled in with their tea and cookies. After a few minutes, they were chatting and laughing about their return to Salem Village. Em looked from face to face and felt overwhelming gratitude for her witches. She smiled and joined their conversation.

  “Tell me again,” George said.

  He pulled the covers back from the bed. Em came out of their bathroom wearing her bathrobe. She had a towel around her wet hair.

  “I will tell you that bathrooms are truly wonderful,” Em said. “Showers are the stuff of dreams.”

  “Five minutes in Salem Village gave you quite the perspective on modern life,” George said with a laugh.

  He got into bed and pulled the thick comforter up to his chin. Seeing that she wasn’t quite ready to join him, he scooted back to sit with his back against the headboard.

  “It was. . .” Em turned to face him, “. . . life changing, and it was more than five minutes.”

  “It sounds awful to me,” George said. “Why did you go back to that moment?”

  “I saw the demon,” Em said. “You remember — I had that dream where I saw him. . .”

  Em stopped talking and smirked at him.

  “You know all of this,” Em said.

  “I know,” George said. “I thought you might need to talk about it some more.”

  “Why?” Em asked.

  She raised her lip to indicate that she wouldn’t mind never talking about it again. He smiled a
t her deception, and she grinned.

  “Tell me again,” George repeated.

  “Tell you what?” Em asked coyly.

  George rolled his eyes.

  “Tell me about my son, Martha,” George said.

  “Benoni?” Em said with a grin. “I thought we weren’t sure he was your son.”

  Groaning, George fell face down on the bed. He was there so long, Em wondered if he’d died again.

  “George?” Em asked.

  She touched his shoulder. He didn’t respond. Concerned, she climbed onto the bed.

  “George?” Em asked.

  She shook his shoulder. He reached up and grabbed her. She squelched a scream. She let him pull her to the bed. He gave her a hard kiss on her lips.

  “Did you get one of those picture things?” George asked.

  “A son-o-gram?” Em enunciated the syllables.

  “Yeah, whatever,” George said. “Where is it?”

  “You’d have to let go of me,” Em said.

  “Never,” George said. “I will never let you go.”

  “I’m so glad,” Em said.

  She kissed him, and he smiled.

  “Tell me again,” George said for a third time.

  “Okay! Okay!” Em said in exaggerated exasperation.

  He let her go and rolled onto his back. She didn’t say anything. After a few moments, he was groaning again.

  “I wanted to see how long you’d wait,” Em said. “You know girls who give it up too soon are thought to be hussies.”

  “Yes, you’re right — almost four hundred years is way too early,” George said with a laugh.

  Em laughed. She reached into her pocket and gave him a copy of the sonogram. He squealed with delight at the sight and then fell silent.

  “I have no idea what I’m looking at,” George said. “Why was John’s so much clearer?”

  “Because John had one of his ‘people’ fix the picture with one of those programs,” Em said. She took a few steps on her knees until she was near his head. “Here’s his little head. His nose is big like yours.”

  “How do you know it’s a boy?” George asked.

  “Ann left that part out,” Em said. “No pervy stuff.”

  George laughed. For a few minutes, he focused only on the image. He kissed the picture and then kissed her belly.

  “Why aren’t you bigger?” George asked. “Is there something wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” Em said.

  “But Mary Eastey is huge.”

  “She’s pretty tiny,” Em said. “She’s almost a month ahead of me.”

  “Why?” George asked.

  “I think she got pregnant when I was on Rousay,” Em said. “Then you remember how crazy things were when I got back. We weren’t terribly active.”

  “But why aren’t you all huge like Mary?” George asked of Mary Eastey.

  “I was about like this with the other boys,” Em said. “I only got bigger the last month or so. I think it’s because I’m fairly tall.”

  “That counts?” George asked.

  “I have no idea,” Em said.

  “When do you see Ann again?” George asked.

  “You mean, she wouldn’t answer your questions at dinner?” Em asked.

  She couldn’t help but smirk at him.

  “I know! Can you believe it?” George asked. “After all we’ve been through, she said she wouldn’t break ‘doctor-client confidentiality.’”

  “I guess you’ll just have to trust me,” Em said.

  “Oh, Em, I do trust you,” George said. “I also have a lot of questions. I mean, when I had children before, it was this big mystery. My wives became pregnant, and they dealt with it. Plus we didn’t even know until the baby was almost here. And even then, it didn’t have much to do with me. But now, I get to be in the room! I get to watch him grow inside you! I get to be a part of the whole thing!”

  George cheered with glee.

  “What about your homeless brethren?” Em asked. “Are you saying you’re not heading out again?”

  “I. . .” George stopped talking. “Shit, I didn’t even think about that. Crap.”

  He looked at the photo again.

  “What am I going to do?” he said with great despair in his voice.

  Em laughed at him. She unwound the towel on her head and rubbed it against her hair.

  “It’s not funny,” George said. “This time of year, I’m the only thing that stands between them and certain death.”

  “I know,” Em said. “That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

  “I’ve already forgiven you for that,” George said.

  “Forgiven me. . .” Em chuckled and went back into the bathroom to brush her hair.

  “I could be really mad!” George yelled after her.

  “You’re not,” Em yelled.

  When she came out, George was lying on his back with his eyes closed. He held the sonogram against his heart. She slipped off her bathrobe and into bed. When he didn’t move, she turned off the light. He rolled over and draped his arm around her. She kissed his forehead. Without much thought, she fell into a sound sleep.

  She was standing face to face with her demon.

  “You think you can hide from me!” the demon yelled in her face. “You think you can add to your ranks and I won’t know about it!”

  “I. . . I. . .” Em swallowed hard. She tried to ground herself to be ready to fight him.

  “Three babies!” the demon said. “Three!”

  “We were already pregnant when you made your ultimatum!” Em yelled back.

  Proud for standing up for herself, she gave him a solid nod. The demon gave a cruel laugh.

  “You think that matters?” the demon asked.

  “I thought it might,” Em said.

  “It doesn’t,” the demon said. “What you add, I will take from you a hundred fold!”

  “What does that mean?” Em asked. “Why do you always talk in riddle and then tell me I’m stupid for not understanding? Speak plainly, and then maybe I’ll understand you!”

  The demon snickered maliciously.

  “Juno will rise tonight,” the demon said, and disappeared.

  Em awoke with a start. She sat up in bed and turned on the light.

  “Em?” George asked.

  Outside, the wind began to howl. The edge of the coming snowstorm was just hitting Boston. Gusts of wind rattled the windows in her front room. She ran out to see what was happening. Snow was so falling fast that the Common was invisible to her. The wind took up her demon’s howl. The snow increased.

  “What is it?” George came out of the bedroom. “Lord, have mercy. This is more than a blizzard.”

  “He said ‘Juno will rise tonight,’” Em said.

  “This snowstorm is called ‘Juno,’” George said with a nod.

  “When did they start naming snowstorms?” Em asked

  George shrugged and shook his head. A gigantic snow-shaped demon bashed against the windows. George’s hands went to his ears.

  “What is that sound?” George asked.

  “My demon,” Em said.

  “Since when did you get a demon?” George asked. “Did you purchase it from the demon store? Call it from hell with a spell? Or. . .”

  “George!” Em said.

  “He’s some kind of creature tied to you,” George said. “You don’t know that he’s a demon.”

  “You’ve seen him!” Em said.

  “I have not had that pleasure,” George said. “Certainly, if I had, I’d make sure he left you alone. I’ve been to war plenty of times. There’s no enemy that can. . .”

  “Alice saw him!” Em said.

  “Alice spends half her time reading your mind!” George yelled back. “She saw him and the other demons through your eyes. So did the other witches. You let them in your mind so they won’t force you to talk to them.”

  “You’ve never seen him.” Em was so surprised that her mouth dropped open. “Wha
t about at the meeting?”

  “You mean John Parker?” George asked.

  “No, the demon,” Em said. “What about when we battled him on Gallows Hill?”

  “Your demon is John Parker?” George asked.

  “No,” Em said. “There’s a demon that. . .”

  “So you’ve said,” George said.

  “You saw him step out of John Parker,” Em said in an incredulous voice.

  “Never had the pleasure.” George gave her a murderous look.

  The entire building shook with the force of snow and wind. There was a great “Pop!” and the power went out.

  The storm hit Boston.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  The snow beat down like an unnatural timpani. The evil in the snow seemed to be fighting to infiltrate the walls. George’s cell phone screamed with an emergency weather alert. Em turned on the television, and every channel was broadcasting warnings about the storm. Some of the older weather prognosticators preached calm while their younger brethren screamed and sweated.

  The snow continued to fall.

  “Em,” George’s voice was soft. Em’s head jerked to look at him. “I have to. . . I. . .”

  “I know,” Em said.

  She jumped back, and Sarah Wildes appeared in the place she had been standing.

  “I did it!” Sarah Wildes beamed at Em. “I didn’t know I could, but. . .”

  She looked up to see that Em and George were gawking at her.

  “Em, there’s something wrong with this storm,” Sarah Wildes said. “Something terribly wrong.”

  Someone pounded at their front door.

  “Em!” Alice’s voice came from their door. “It’s Alice!”

  George went to open the door. There was another whoosh, and Mary Ayer Parker showed up in their living room.

  “Ha!” Mary Ayer said.

  “Well done, Mary!” Sarah Wildes said. She raised her hand. “High five!”

  Mary Ayer slapped Sarah Wildes’s hand, and they hugged.

  “Are you here for. . .” Sarah Wildes said.

  “The storm,” Mary Ayers said.

  Em grabbed Sarah and Mary Ayers and pulled them to her. Martha Carrier materialized.

  “Martha! Jump to me!” Em yelled.

  Sam Wardwell turned up a moment after Martha Carrier moved.

  “What the hell?” Em asked.