From the corner of my eye I could see my mother struggling against Constance’s powerful grip as she held her over a large brass bowl. The fire glinted off a large knife that the tall witch brandished in her other hand. Just as she raised her arm to strike, my father attacked Constance from behind. Constance let go of Mother and she fell into the edge of the fire. She rolled away but was unable to get up, as her hands and feet were tied. I struggled harder against Prudence, desperate to warn my mother of the approaching danger, but the witch was still too strong and I watched in horror as another old woman caught my mother by the nape of the neck.
This new woman seemed more powerful than the other resurrected witches. She slung my mother over her shoulder with ease. She took Mother back to the brass bowl, and again held her over it.
With a wrench I momentarily freed myself from Prudence and managed a croaked scream, but Prudence gained footing and hit me on the side of the head, my vision blurred for a few seconds and she caught hold of me again.
Still battling Constance, my father reached out to my mother, but it was too late. The strong old witch picked up a knife. The Necronomicon lay open at her side. She started to chant. I desperately fought Prudence but her grip only intensified. Caleb was surrounded by three witches and was unable to get off a shot. Another witch bore down on him and knocked him off balance. He swerved, catching his foot in one of the stones near the fire.
The old witch continued to chant from the book then she held the knife across my poor mother’s neck and slit the life out of her. My mother’s blood drained into the brass bowl and at that moment a deep rumbling echoed through the woods.
My father threw Constance off him and kneeled at my mother’s side. Her head slid to one side and my father pressed his face to her breast, the life drained from her dear, pure heart. My father grabbed the book from the old woman with one hand, with the other he drew his pistol and shot her between the eyes.
Constance was embroiled in a fight with one of the fierce Indian warriors, so with the Necronomicon in hand, Father moved away into the shadows. I knew that the Necronomicon held powerful spells, but it also held their reversals.
Suddenly the stones in the center of the ring of fire started to drop as if a deep hole had opened up beneath them. The rumbling grew louder, and the earth beneath our feet became warm. A blast of heat, far surpassing the sun on the hottest of any June day, emanated from the hole. The fire ring almost doused itself; the heat coming forth from the hole seemed hotter than fire.
I tried to roll away from Prudence but she held me fast.
King Philip’s Indian warriors, men of great resolve, stopped their fighting and stared at the hole. It hurt to look in the direction of the fiery pit, but no one could draw their eyes away from the figure that was slowly rising up from the earth.
Constance shook off her adversary.
“Belial, I call you forth,” she shouted. “I have raised you, I am your Queen, I am your bind to this earth.” She repeated the chant over and over, her voice louder and louder. While the creature, with great horns, gradually dissolved into the shape of a man.
Constance caught one of her young farm hands by the arm, pulled him close, and, grabbing the knife, started to chant once again. I realized she was trying to raise the second Prince of Hell, whose name I knew to be Leviathan.
My father reappeared from the shadows. He was holding the Necronomicon and had his own buck knife in his other hand.
“Evil, vile creature,” he cried out to Constance. His voice steady and true. “You will not succeed in creating Hell on Earth.”
Then he started to chant from the Necronomicon.
“Oh god of dark and god of light. You are summoned no more. Hide your evilness in the cage from which you came, you are not wanted on this mortal plain. I forbade vos of atrum pergo huic regnum. Vos es inconcessus ut ingredior inter lux lucis. Vos es inconcessus ut futurus in is terra. Vado tergum qua vos venit. Vado tergum ut vestri cage. Vos es non volo. Per vox of lux lucis quod filiolus of Olympus quod bonus verto tergum ut atrum.”
And with that my dear father took the knife and sliced his own neck. He fell into a heap, his blood mixed with my mother’s in the bowl.
An inhuman scream echoed forth from the creature in the middle of the fire. Frigid air pushed forth from all corners of the wood, extinguishing the fire, and the figure disappeared back into the hellish fire at its feet. The earth closed up and rocks tumbled back into their place, imprisoning the Prince of Hell back in his fiery domain.
With the beast’s disappearance the resurrected witches started to visibly lose energy, making them a lot easier to kill. Caleb extracted himself and beheaded a slew of the old bags of bones. I wrestled from Prudence’s now much weaker grasp and swung around ready to attack Constance, but she and Prudence retreated swiftly into the woods, disappearing from view. Two of the Indian warriors went after them, but they came back minutes later. The women had evaporated.
We rapidly executed the rest of the witches, and threw their bodies into the middle of the ring. We piled wood on top of them and re-set the fire. Leaving the bodies for others to find would serve no purpose except to frighten them. We had what we needed to end the frenzy within the village.
I approached the quivering figure of Reverend Parris. He attempted to stand but was unable. I helped him up, supported him back to one of the horses, then helped him mount. As he tried to walk away I held the reigns.
“Reverend Parris? What say you to what you saw this evening?” I asked.
“Young man, I can hardly believe my eyes. I must return home and pray about it,” he replied avoiding my direct gaze.
“That is not what I meant,” I said. “You will call off the witch trials now. You will petition for the release of every jailed innocent. Will you not?”
He nodded, still not looking at me.
“Let me hear you say it,” I said.
“I will do everything in my power to release the innocent and I will tell the magistrates that the afflicted girls have been healed by the hand of God. Salem Village no longer harbors Satan.”
“Very well, have a safe ride home,” I said. “You never know what might lurk in the shadows.”
A look of panic crossed the Reverend’s face. He rode unsteadily off across the meadow.
By this time the early morning light was illuminating the carnage before us. Caleb leaned over the bodies of our poor parents as he recited the Lord’s Prayer. I stood beside him and joined in. The Indians had made a litter from logs and pine boughs. We laid Mother and Father on it and covered them with a torn coat.
The warriors promised to tell King Philip of Nathaniel’s bravery. I thanked them for their fight. Without them we surely would have been defeated. The Indians then galloped off quickly, they didn’t want to be caught on colony land during daylight. And with that Caleb and I headed toward home carrying our deceased parents.
As we approached home, Hannah appeared at the door and came to meet us. As she neared us her face was stricken with both relief at our survival and grief for our parents. We brought them inside and prepared their bodies for burial. We wanted them to be interred on our homestead and not in the village cemetery.
Our hearts were heavy that night. But one thing was clear. Our father would want us to continue hunting the evil in this world. In the early dawn light Caleb and I spoke about it. We debated when and how to tell our sister who was asleep in the next room. I knew after I recounted this story she would understand why we had to leave Salem and seek out others in need of our help. Though I feared she would be lonely I knew it was essential for her to stay in Salem and see the Reverend kept all his promises.
I left her the following letter.
Dearest Hannah
When you wake, Caleb and I will be gone. I hope you understand that after tonight saying goodbye to you would too hard. But knowing your strength and wisdom you will understand why we needed to leave. After the fight with the Salem witches, Caleb and I realize
d that all the country villages and towns are being abused and attacked by the kinds of evil we know how to fight. It would be lovely and comfortable to stay with you here, to see you marry and have a family. It would be lovely and comfortable for Caleb and I to do the same. But we feel that would be wrong and selfish. The world outside Salem needs us.
Please understand that our choice was not an easy one. And leaving you alone perhaps was not what Mother and Father would have wanted. But I know you’ll agree that there is a greater good at work.
We hope that God grants you a long and happy life. If ever we come by this way again, please leave the light on for us. You will forever be in our hearts and prayers. Keep up on your Latin, you are the best scholar in the family.
God bless.
Your loving brothers,
Thomas and Caleb.
THIRTY-FOUR
Dean closed Nathaniel’s journal, there were no more entries. Constance was Connie, Dean was certain of that, and could Perry be Prudence, or was that taking things too far? Though there wasn’t an exact map in the journal, Dean was pretty sure Constance had occupied the same house all these years. He guessed that she must stay hidden for a couple of generations and every now and then, after a while had passed, she would return to public life. That way no one could grow suspicious of her longevity. It was sort of the perfect way to exist forever.
Now, after all this time, Connie once again had the opportunity to raise Lucifer and as much as it hurt him, Dean now saw that he couldn’t let her do it. Sam would be forever bound to a coven of witches and Dean could not unleash that evil upon the world. He had to find a way to stop them.
He watched Lisa and Ben sleeping soundly, both had dropped off fully clothed on the other bed. Dean had explained that now was not the time to get cushy. Hunters slept in their clothes as you never knew what might wake you up in the morning. The TV blared out late night infomercials. Dean got up and checked his wallet, a couple of towns over there was a twenty-four-hour hardware store. He would need some rope, more salt, just in case, and, of course, knives. Buying ammo was going to be a tad harder at this hour of the night, but he could figure that out later.
Dean left the motel room quietly, careful not to wake Lisa and Ben. He got into the truck, noting that the motel parking lot was empty except for a white van parked in the far corner. Dean started the ignition and pulled away.
Sam watched Dean pull away in that nasty truck from inside the white van. He could have followed his brother, but he knew he didn’t have to take care of him. The thing that he wanted to take care of was the fact that Prudence had a tail on him. On his way here a small two-door hatchback had made every turn Sam did, and was now parked across the street from the motel.
It wasn’t Prudence herself behind the wheel, but Sam was pretty sure he recognized the girl as one of the ones from the bookstore break-in. She was probably put in charge of tallying Sam’s every move to make sure he didn’t get in the way of the remaining resurrections.
The only thing on Sam’s mind was how to take the witches down. Whether they were human or not didn’t matter to him. He didn’t know where the witches were planning this resurrection. And he had to find out. He could waste a lot of shoe leather. Or he could deliver two of the last resurrections to the witches on a plate. Pulling transients over and killing them couldn’t be easy. Perhaps he would just force the witches’ hand.
Sam pulled a mask on over his head, took out his sawed-off and loaded it with just one bullet. He wouldn’t need to call Prudence; the girl across the street would do that for him. He got out of the van and braced himself in front of the motel door to Lisa and Ben’s room.
CRACKKK!
Sam’s foot splintered the door off the jamb. Inside the room, Lisa sat up quickly, eyes bulging with fear, but Sam slapped her across the face before she could start screaming. She rolled over the bottom of the bed. Ben stirred in his sleep, but stayed unconscious—Sam guessed that Dean had given him a sleeping pill.
Lisa crawled across the ground toward one of Dean’s bags. Sam, staying silent lest he give his identity away, pulled the bag out of her reach. He roughly flipped her over onto her stomach and tied her hands and feet together with zip lines.
“Wh-why are you doing this?” she cried. “Please, just take me, leave my son!”
Sam didn’t answer. He grabbed a balled-up T-shirt of Dean’s and stuffed it into her mouth. Next he rolled Ben onto his stomach and tied both his hands and feet together. Ben snored loudly, unaware that his de facto uncle was setting him up for a kidnapping.
Lisa continued to try to scream through her gag, but the noise was muffled and ineffective.
Sam’s entire set-up had taken less than two minutes. He headed back outside and closed the door behind him. He looked at the car across the street. The girl’s faint outline could be seen through the dark windows of her crappy car. She was peering at him as he emerged from the motel. Sam smiled. There was no way she wouldn’t be curious.
Sam got into his van, took off his mask and pulled out of the parking lot. He raced up the highway until he was out of sight of the girl’s car. Then he made a rapid U-turn, came back around, and parked in a donut shop parking lot facing the street.
About half a mile down the road, Sam spotted a figure racing across the four-lane highway and into the parking lot of the motel. It took about a minute for the girl to return. She ran back across the road and slid back into her car and pulled it around into the motel parking lot. Being a witch, Sam surmised that she would be strong enough to carry Lisa and Ben out of their motel room and into her hatchback.
Sam waited until he saw the car pull out. It headed toward him, north up the highway. He crouched down, but the van was indistinct enough among all the other vans in the donut shop car park that the girl drove past without noticing. A few seconds later, Sam pulled out and followed her, a safe ten car-lengths behind.
Sam guessed that the girl probably didn’t have time to ask her superiors about whether or not to bring the two victims home. She had acted on instinct and that was to Sam’s advantage. She would lead him right to the resurrection sight. He hoped he would be able to deal with the witches without getting Dean involved. Meanwhile Sam wouldn’t actually let the witches harm Lisa and Ben. That wasn’t the plan. The plan was to stop the witches and systematically kill them all. Sam glanced into the back of the van. It was chock full of enough explosives to rip a hole in the Lincoln Tunnel, except Sam was going to use it to stop a different kind of destruction.
Sam continued following the car as it turned onto Route 128 and headed north.
Dean got out of the van balancing a bag of donuts, two coffees for him and Lisa, and a hot chocolate for Ben. He thought they could have a quick breakfast and maybe then he would put them on a train back to Cicero. It would be easier and safer to wrap this up without them. He had already put them through enough.
Dean had no idea how he was going to stop the witches, he would make it up on the spot, like usual. The only thing he was hoping for was that the witches hadn’t picked up anymore transients. But he had taken care of that by calling Officer Wiggims and putting out an ABP on both Perry’s car, which he had seen earlier in the week, and whatever caravan of cars Connie owned. At least then Connie would find it a little more difficult to get around town.
The motel door was cracked open. Dean immediately put down his provisions and took out his gun.
“Lisa? Ben?” Dean called.
He kicked open what remained of the door, and through the dim light he could see that both beds were empty. A quick scan of the room told him that someone had been pulled off the bed, the coverlet was on the floor at the foot. And there was a little piece of plastic, the kind that sometimes pops off a plastic zip tie. Most police officers use them, but Dean didn’t believe they had been arrested.
Dean grabbed his duffle bag, noticing that it wasn’t where he left it. Instead it had been thrown into a corner, out of reach. On the table, a paper cup was t
urned upside down.
Months ago, when Dean and Lisa were talking about Dean’s childhood, he had shared the signal John Winchester had taught him when he and Sam were young. “If the shit goes down, try to turn a cup over on the table. It won’t look out of place to anyone but us,” John had said. Dean knew someone had taken Lisa and Ben. He ran out the door and into the motel lobby, but the bored young woman behind the counter hadn’t seen anything.
In the truck, Dean popped open his laptop, it seemed that Lisa’s cell phone had been disarmed. The last time it pinged off a cell phone tower was nineteen miles north of Salem, toward the shore. After that, someone had turned off the GPS in the town of Gloucester. He decided to start there.
Dean peeled into traffic. He desperately wanted to call Bobby for a little help, maybe he could do more legwork on tracking down the cell phone, but he didn’t have time. As he pulled onto Route 128 he noticed in his rear-view a black Escalade barreling down on him. Dean pushed the pedal to the floor, but the old truck only belched out a trickle more horsepower.
“Should’ve taken the Impala,” Dean muttered to himself.
The Escalade pulled out from behind him and into the adjacent lane of the highway. The large car then swerved deliberately into Dean’s driver’s side. Dean’s truck swerved onto the sandy side of the road, and fishtailed. Dean fought the heavy vehicle to regain control and then he righted himself back onto the road. But there was no way to outrun the newer vehicle.
The Escalade pulled in behind the truck and hit its bumper with a CRAAASSHH, jolting Dean into the steering wheel. Dean willed the truck forward and steeled himself for another hit. The Escalade came full force and lifted the truck’s back wheels off the road.
Supernatural: One Year Gone Page 20