Mercy (The Guardians Series 1)

by Wendy Saunders

  They sat companionably in silence as they poured through court records, until Olivia finally looked up at the old lady opposite her.

  ‘Ms Gersten may I ask you a personal question?’

  ‘You may ask,’ she looked up, peering over the rim of her spectacles, ‘I may not answer.’

  ‘How did you end up in Mercy? I mean, why did you leave Germany?’

  Ms Gersten studied Olivia for a moment before removing her glasses from her nose, folding them up and letting them drop on the thin gold chain they were attached to. She neatly undid the button on the cuff of her silk blouse and pulled up the sleeve to reveal the wrinkled skin of her forearm. There sat innocuously a brand, a small line of numbers tattooed untidily.

  Olivia swallowed as understanding came, and she glanced up into the old lady’s eyes.

  ‘You are a holocaust survivor’ It was more a statement then a question.

  ‘Who better to understand the persecution of the innocents than someone who has experienced it first hand?’

  She sat back, her eyes distant.

  ‘I was fifteen when my family and I were taken from our home in Berlin and sent to Auschwitz. When I was on the train a stranger turned to me and asked me how old I was. I told him I was fifteen and he said to me; when you get off the train tell them you are eighteen. I did not understand at the time.’

  She could tell by Olivia’s expression she did not either.

  ‘At eighteen I was a worker,’ she clarified, ‘as a fifteen year old girl I was no use to them, telling them I was older saved me from the gas chambers. It was a reprieve not granted to my mother and younger brother Schaja, who was only five years old, I can still see them now after all this time being herded through the rain to the showers.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Olivia said softly as her heart broke.

  ‘My father and I were both spared and sent to work but he did not survive six months, a heart attack they said, but I believe he could not live without my mother and never got over the death of my brother. So I was alone, I survived Auschwitz and when we were finally liberated I left Europe and travelled to America, as far away from the horror of the death camps as I could get but nothing worked. I carried my pain with me like a death shroud, until one day quite by accident I ended up in Mercy. It was the spring of 1957 and the moment I stepped on Mercy soil I felt at peace for the first time. I could finally breathe. There is magic here, a power that hums just beneath the surface. It is a very special place, I truly believe that it saved me and so I devoted my life to finding out as much as I could about the place I had chosen to call home.’

  ‘You never married?’ Olivia asked.

  ‘You are a curious one aren’t you?’

  ‘I’m sorry that was a very personal question.’

  ‘No it is fine,’ Ms Gersten placed her glasses back on her nose and continued to read. ‘I never wanted to marry and have children as I could not bear to go through the pain of losing anyone again.’

  Olivia watched as the old lady turned her attention back to the papers in front of her effectively closing the conversation, for which Olivia was glad. What could she possibly say that would not sound trite or inadequate.

  They continued in silence for a few more minutes until the old lady startled Olivia out of her reverie with a satisfied exclamation.

  ‘Here we go,’ Ms Gersten spoke in a pleased tone and passed the relevant list to Olivia.

  Her eyes scanned down the paper until she got about midway down and she read out loud.

  ‘Appointed by the court and on behalf of the court of Oyer and Terminer to be held in the office of Witch finder Matthias Beckett age 56 Logan Beckett age 26 Theodore Beckett age 21.’

  Olivia sat back and breathed heavily.

  ‘He was so young,’

  ‘It is true,’ Ms Gersten took back the page and scanned down it. ‘It was not usual to appoint someone so young. Perhaps we should keep looking; we seem to have stumbled across something of a mystery as they do not appear in any of the mainstream historical reference books.’

  ‘I have access to the parish records of the births and deaths in Salem going back to the early 1600’s but they are on the computer and I’m afraid I’m not that good with the darn thing, I usually leave it to my younger members of staff.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ Olivia brightened, ‘I certainly know my way around a computer if you don’t mind me looking.’

  Ms Gersten looked at her watch.

  ‘Goodness is that the time?’ She raised her brows in surprise, ‘The computer is over there in the corner, the login details are on a notepad next to it as it was being used earlier I’m afraid I have to go and see to my staff but if you are happy to go ahead on your own I will check in on you in a little while.’

  ‘I’m more than fine,’ Olivia smiled, ‘I certainly know my way around a research project.’

  ‘I’m sure you do, would you like a coffee? I could have one of my student helpers bring you in one?’

  ‘That would be wonderful,’ Olivia said gratefully.

  ‘How do you take it?’

  ‘Sweet and light,’ she replied absently, her mind already on her task as she made her way over to the computer.

  She logged in as the old lady hobbled out of the room leaning heavily on her cane and she began the arduous task of tracking down the elusive Beckett family.

  By the time Ms Gersten came back to check on her it was several hours later.

  ‘I’m sorry Olivia but it is getting late and I need to lock up and get home.’

  Olivia glanced down at her watch and her eyes widened in surprise to see it was gone eight o’clock.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she stretched to ease the crick in her neck, ‘I didn’t realise how late it was.’

  ‘It’s not a problem,’ she waved off her apology, ‘I hope you found something useful?’

  ‘It's a start,’ Olivia covered her mouth to stifle a yawn, ‘Theodore was born September 16th 1667 in Salem to Matthias and Emmaline Beckett, who already had another son. Logan, Theodore’s brother, was five years older than him. It seems Temperance was their younger sister, much younger, Theodore was twelve years old when she was born and it seems from the dates that his mother may have died giving birth to her. Temperance died when she was nine but I can’t find out how and Theodore it seems was killed in 1695 when he was trapped in a burning barn. Apparently he was killed in the fire but no body was ever recovered.’

  ‘Well,’ she smiled, ‘you certainly do know your way around research.’

  ‘It’s what I do,’ Olivia shut down the computer and picked up her notes. ‘Thank you for helping me with this Ms Gersten.’

  ‘Renata,’ she corrected her, ‘and it’s my pleasure.’

  ‘Renata,’ Olivia smiled as she collected her things, ‘I’ll let you know what else I find.’

  ‘I’d appreciate that,’

  By the time Olivia stepped out into the crisp night air she was almost staggering in exhaustion. All of a sudden everything just caught up with her and she realised with a start that not only had she barely eaten anything that day, but that she hadn’t slept in nearly thirty six hours. Yawning so badly she felt her jaw click she bypassed all the happily giggling children out with their half full candy baskets, giving them barely a glance.

  Once she reached her car she could have quite happily crawled into the back seat and gone to sleep. Winding the windows down to let the cold air in and cranking up the music she pulled out of the parking spot and headed home praying she wouldn’t fall asleep at the wheel and kill herself, or worse someone else.

  Chapter 5.

  Salem Village, 1695.

  Theo looked up from the flickering lamplight at the sound of the latch and closed his journal abruptly. After a few seconds he let out a relieved breath and relaxed the tension in his shoulders. It was just the wind tugging restlessly at the barn door. For the moment he remained as he preferred, alone.
Dipping his hand into the deep pocket of his doublet he pulled out his most prized possession a stick of lead wrapped in string.

  He’d traded his bible for it from a traveller. He closed his eyes momentarily his fist tightening around the innocuous object. His father would turn in his grave if he knew. Shaking his head at the thought he settled himself on a low bale of hay, tucking the lamp more securely atop another bale so it wouldn’t topple and catch light.

  Slipping a leaf of paper free he pressed the lead to the sheet and began to sketch in quick confident strokes. The face which took shape was one that had haunted his dreams for as long as he could remember. He did not know who she was but he could draw every line and curve of her face with his eyes closed. Her hair was a deep dark pleasing brown which fell in loose curls, spilling over her slim shoulders and down her back. Her eyes burned gold, their depths seemed to go on forever and her rose coloured lips were soft and full, curved into a small half smile.

  It was the first time he had put her likeness to paper. It felt strange to see her there staring back at him through layers of black and white and he found himself wishing he was able to put colour to the paper. Tracing his fingers along the edges of her face he could hear her voice in his mind as clear as a bell and as fragile as a whisper.

  ‘Infernum exists Theo and we have to find it before they do or all the gateways will fall.’

  He did not understand what her strange words meant but he had heard them in his mind so many times he had them committed to memory. He felt as if he knew her, he felt her urgency, her desperation. He felt her love. If only he could find her.

  A small sigh escaped his lips, it was impossible. Even if he knew where to start looking he would never escape Salem. He would never escape his family; his life had become his prison. Maybe he deserved it, maybe it was his punishment for the terrible things he had done. Shaking his head in resignation, he tucked the picture into the pages of his journal.

  His head snapped up as the door rattled louder this time and swung open. Theo stood abruptly as a familiar man entered dragging two dirty ragged looking children with him.

  ‘Stephen,’ Theo greeted him coolly his expression darkening.

  ‘Theodore,’ he returned his tone just as flat and unfriendly.

  ‘What are you doing here, and who are these children?’

  Stephen’s eyes narrowed as they viewed each other with mutual suspicion and distaste.

  ‘They are accused.’

  ‘Accused’ Theo frowned, ‘but they are so young?’

  Stephen shrugged nonchalantly.

  ‘Not my place to question.’

  ‘Why bring them here? Why are they not in the jail?’

  ‘Your brother told me to bring them here,’

  ‘My brother?’ Theo replied in confusion, ‘why would he do that?’

  ‘Again, not my place to question,’ Stephen answered smugly, ‘but I hear Nathaniel himself intends to question them.’

  ‘Nathaniel?’ Theo’s tone went flat as did his eyes, which darkened until they appeared almost black.

  Nathaniel Boothe was not a man to be trusted; there was something about him that made Theo’s blood run cold. He was always there in the background, quiet and self effacing. A true man of God according to his father, but Theo could not shake the feeling that there was something much darker and more dangerous about the man.

  ‘Aye,’ Stephen stated as he pulled the girls along by the rope binding their wrists. He shoved them roughly into one of stalls and turned back to Theo. ‘Your brother will be along shortly, he says you’re to keep an eye on them.’

  ‘Fine,’ Theo replied coldly as Stephen turned and left.

  He glanced down at the two young girls huddled in the straw and frowned. They were so young, barely more than eight or nine years old. He turned his back on them and moved back to the bale were he’d been sitting. Picking up his quill he began to write in his journal trying to ignore the two wary gazes that followed his every move.

  An hour passed and still no sign of his brother Logan and he shifted uncomfortably as the two girls continued to watch him in silence. His stomach felt as if it was lined with stones and a great heaviness settled in his chest. He couldn’t shake the uneasiness he felt. Something about this whole situation was wrong. Why would the children be brought here to his family’s farm miles from the jail in Salem town, where all the other accused were held and why would Nathaniel wish to question them? If they were accused of witchcraft like the others surely they should be brought before the court and questioned.

  Theo found himself turning to study the two girls, and now that he paid attention they seemed to be almost identical. They must have been twins, although one seemed slightly smaller and more delicate. They both had matted dark brown hair which fell to their waists. Their smocks were dirty and their feet bare. They must have been freezing he realised as the smaller one shivered and her sister wrapped her arms around her, as far as was possible with her tiny wrists bound.

  Theo climbed to his feet and reached for one of the saddle blankets. It smelled of horse but at least it would keep them warm. Walking over to them he watched the taller child draw back warily, grasping her sister tighter. The smaller child just watched him curiously.

  ‘Here, take it,’ He offered holding the blanket out to them, his tone soft as if coaxing a skittish animal.

  A small dirty hand reached out slowly wrapping stiff fingers around the coarse material. Nodding in approval Theo got to his feet and moved back, returning a moment later with a small pitcher of water, a tin cup and small item wrapped in muslin.

  He poured the water and handed it to the taller girl. Still watching him warily she took a small sip, her suspicious eyes locked on his as if she were testing the water to see if it was some sort of trick. Satisfied she passed the cup to her sister and let her drink deeply. He unwrapped the small bundle and pulled out a small chunk of thick bread and cheese which he broke in half and gave to each of the girls.

  ‘What’s your name?” the smallest girl asked as she grasped the food tightly in her small fist.

  ‘Theo’ his mouth curved into a smile, ‘’Theodore Beckett.’

  ‘Hess,’ the older one hissed, ‘don’t talk to him he’s one of them.’

  ‘It’s alright Bridey,’ she touched her sister’s hand gently, as something silent passed between them.

  ‘Do you know why you were brought here?’ Theo asked.

  The smaller one shook her head.

  ‘Men came to our home,’ she told him, ‘They hurt our mother.’

  Bridey’s mouth tightened into a thin line as she watched her sister.

  ‘Where is your mother now?’

  ‘Dead,’ Bridey replied coldly.

  ‘Was your mother accused of witchcraft?’

  ‘No,’ Hess shook her head again, ‘The man with black eyes, Mr Boothe, he was asking her questions. There was something he wanted and he thought she had it.’

  ‘What did he want?’ Theo asked, his brow furrowing into a thoughtful frown.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she answered in a small voice, ‘but he called it Infernum.’

  Theo’s head snapped up at the strange word that had echoed in his mind for as long as he could remember.

  ‘You’re sure you don’t know what it was?’ he asked urgently.

  The small child looked at him directly and he found he couldn’t look away. Her clear gaze held his and suddenly her whiskey coloured eyes darkened. She reached out towards him slowly, her hands still bound with rope. She carefully placed two tiny fingers upon his forehead, her brow wrinkling.

  ‘You’ve seen her haven’t you?’ she whispered, ‘The woman with the gold eyes.’

  ‘How can you possibly know that?’ he gasped

  ‘Because I’ve seen her too.’

  Theo tore himself away stumbling as he backed away breathing hard. He tripped out of the door, slamming it closed behind him as he fell
heavily against the coarse wood of the barn and dragged the cold night air into his lungs which suddenly felt constricted.

  Theo took a deep breath and raked his hand shakily through his dark hair. He didn’t understand what the hell was going on. Who were those two girls and what did Nathaniel Boothe want from them? How did his brother come to be involved? One thing was for certain no matter what the answers were something was very wrong and he felt it right down to his core.

  An idea started to form in his mind, he tried to shake it off but it was stubborn and persistent. His jaw clenched and his dark eyes deepened. Suddenly he knew what he needed to do. Taking a quick look back towards the barn he turned and headed up to the main farmhouse, praying he had enough time.

  ‘Hess what did you go and say that to him for?’ Bridey scolded her sister, ‘if he didn’t think we were witches before he will now.’

  ‘I don’t think he will,’ Hess frowned at her sister, ‘There is something about him. He’s different from the others.’

  ‘You can’t know that, Ma told us not to trust anyone.’

  ‘I know that I’m not a fool’

  ‘Well you are certainly acting like one, what did you have to go and mention Infernum for, Ma said we were never to talk about it.’

  ‘I know,’ she sighed, ‘I know this is going to sound strange but I think I was meant to say something to him.’

  ‘What?’ Bridey frowned.

  ‘I can see his threads,’ Hess replied quietly.

  Bridey gasped. ‘You can see the threads like Grandmama could?’.

  Hess nodded.

  ‘For how long?’

  ‘A while now,’ Hess confessed, ‘at first I wasn’t sure what I was seeing and it doesn’t happen with everyone but Ma seemed to know before I did. She said my gifts would get stronger as I grow.’

  Bridey chewed her chapped lip thoughtfully as she regarded her sister. Threading was a gift, whilst not common among true witches, seemed to run in her family. Each witch with that particular trait was able to see the fine threads of life woven between every living thing. Her Grandmama had once told her it was like looking at the world through a yarn basket. Everything was overlaid with finely coloured threads of varying colours each thread having a different purpose.