by D C Young
“Okay, I’m beginning to get a clearer picture of what happened now,” Sam said. She checked to see that the tape recorder was still going.
“Mr. Ambrose was hell bent on getting a warning out regardless of the threat, Mr. Collins, however, did not share his sentiment. His spirit has confessed to me that Yemaya instructed him to kill Ambrose to prevent her plans being revealed. When he tried to do so, Ambrose killed him in self defense.”
“So, how does Mr. Collins think justice should be done for these events?”
“He won’t be at peace until Mr. Ambrose is exonerated and the message has reached the ears of the Guardian of Louisiana. Although he told me last night that some friends of yours have already delivered the news to New Orleans.”
“Friends of mine?” Sam asked puzzled.”
“Yes, the Eldest and the Hanged One have gone to see the Guardian and you, my dear Samantha, must rally the rest of the troops and go there to prevent the city’s imminent destruction. A storm is already brewing at sea that will wipe New Orleans from the face of the earth.”
Chapter Eleven
‘The Hanged One’
Salem, Massachusetts. 1692.
“The pallbearers seem to be straining a bit,” William whispered as they stood beside the open grave where Bridget’s body was to be laid to rest. “Are you certain that Miss Bishop is not inside?”
“Quite certain,” Petronilla replied. “I removed the body of a very much alive, Bridget Bishop myself. I assure you that Miss Bishop is resting quite comfortably and quietly in the cellar of a dear friend.”
“Then how do you explain the weight?” William said and then shook as though he was broken with grief for the loss of his beloved cousin. His acting had to be impeccable and so did Petronilla; it wouldn’t take much for those around them to realize neither were crying over their loss. Thankfully, there were only a handful of mourners present. Petronilla and William did their best not to stand out having claimed to be Bridget Bishop’s closest kin besides her estranged husband who stood very erect and maintained a stoic mien throughout the proceedings.
Petronilla playing her role as a comforting wife for her dear husband, to any onlooker seemed to be offering consolation as she spoke to him quietly. “It was quite a hilarious turn of events actually, but this is probably not the place to tell you about them at the moment. So, let it suffice to say that the coffin is filled with stones.”
“Stones?” William gasped as he shook; he was struggling to conceal his amusement. His deep emotion drew the attention of another mourner and she too came to give William comfort.
“I am so sorry for the loss of your dear cousin,” Elizabeth Proctor said, touching William on the arm softly. Her cheeks were stained with her tears and her eyes showed signs that she might break into a fit of sobbing at any moment. “My name is Elizabeth Proctor. Do know that I am sincerely devastated by the loss as well. Bridget was a very dear friend to me. We were having tea together the day they came for her. Who knew it would be our last toge…” She broke off the end of the last word in a whisper as her grief took over.
William changed from being the consoled to being the comforter. “She spoke of you often, Elizabeth. You will be comforted to know that she will live on.”
“Of course she will,” Elizabeth replied, finding the strength to speak again. She smiled softly. “She was a fine, Christian woman and innocent of such a lot of outrageous claims. She was a healer who served her community all of her days and never ceased to offer her kindness.”
William drew Elizabeth in close and held her. He could smell the sweetness of the blood coursing through her veins and the warmth of her lively body. What a delicious treat she would make? He inhaled deeply and was about to give into the overwhelming urge that was taking over his entire being. Before he could act, however, Petronilla discouraged him with a scowl which brought him back to reality. He released Elizabeth immediately and turned away from her, sinking his face into the chest of Petronilla in a show of extraordinary grief.
“I am so sorry,” Petronilla said, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief as if her own tears threatened to stream down her cheeks. “Bridget was his favorite cousin. They were playmates as children and… well, he isn’t dealing with it very well. Death is hard enough, but to be accused of being a witch and be hanged for it. Please forgive us.”
Petronilla began to draw William away from Elizabeth in a protective gesture.
“I certainly understand,” Elizabeth responded. “She was so…” She was unable to finish the sentence as another sob built up to the point of overtaking her.
In the same moment, the reverend who had agreed to tend to the burial began speaking, which gave Petronilla the opportunity to try to get William back on focus. “We cannot cause a scene here, William,” she whispered. “Stay focused.”
There were few words said over the grave of the convicted witch, Bridget Bishop and the handful of people who had dared to show support to her husband or truly grieved for her were few. With the brief service wrapped up, William and Petronilla got back into the carriage and traveled back into town to their room in the hotel.
“Why did we have to attend the funeral, again?” William asked.
“I told you before. We had to keep outward appearances that the body was being laid to rest.”
“Oh, yes,” he snickered. “The body; tell me about the stones. Do I sense some sort of cleverness on your part?”
“I can be resourceful whenever the need arises,” she beamed.
“I’ve never doubted that,” he replied. “Tell me about the stones.”
“Speaking of arising needs,” she frowned. “You nearly gave us away earlier.”
“The stones! The Stones!”
“As you know,” she began. “I had visited Bridget and had advised her of our efforts to keep her among the living. She was to feign being dead, of course, though, I think that the sudden fall and the jerk nearly made her that way anyway. It all worked out for the best, of course, because she was believed to be quite dead when they took her down from the gallows.
“However,” she started to giggle. “You ought to have seen the look on the undertaker’s face when I’d gone to view the body of our dearly departed cousin and she sat up in the coffin and spoke to me.”
“I’ll say,” William chuckled joining in on her mirth. “If he hadn’t believed in witches before, he certainly had by that point.”
“He fell against the wall and slid down it as though his heart was going to give out. His eyes were as big around as saucers and then he said… Now this is classic… ‘she’s not dead’.”
“Undertakers are not known to be the most highly educated, but he nailed that one didn’t he?” William laughed.
“He started stuttering and stammering about how he was going to have to present a body to be buried and that it wouldn’t do to be without a body. What was even more hilarious, however, was to watch Bridget trying to console him. She was apologizing for not being able to be the body that he needed and worried that he was going to have a very difficult time of it without her.”
“Oh no, the not-dead dead consoling their own undertaker, that’s certainly rich.” William had tears in his eyes from laughing.
“It took a lot of glamour to calm that one down to the point where I could plant the idea of putting stones in the casket; enough to make it seem like there was a body inside the casket when they carried it out to be buried. The man’s eyes lit up like I’d brought him to salvation. In fact, he bowed, tipped his hat and set out into the village immediately to start gathering them.”
“Oh, what sort of stir would have gone all through this community if it had been known that her body disappeared? Perhaps we ought to have set that little top spinning and sat back to watch.”
“I believe that we had discussed discretion before?” Petronilla said reminding him, not only of their earlier discussion, but following it with a gaze that accentuated the point.
William
shrugged, though he couldn’t help letting his mind wander as he considered the uproar that would have hit if Bridget Bishop wasn’t present for burial.
“Of course, you’re aware of the little show that Bridget and I arranged for you, Elizabeth and her husband.”
“Yes, indeed,” he replied. “Bridget was quite convincing, even to me. She is certainly deserving of our praise on that account. In fact, when I saw her lying there to be viewed, she was so convincing that I had assumed that you’d already done the deed.”
“I’d wanted to, but the wounds in her neck wouldn’t have gone unnoticed, besides, I assured Bridget that her cooperation was of the greatest necessity if we were to get her away from Salem alive and without anyone being the wiser.”
“Have you transformed her yet?” he asked.
“I have,” she replied. “I was afraid that she might come back to life at an inopportune time, so once I got her in Ezekiel’s cellar, I did what needed to be done.”
“You might have shared,” he teased. “It doesn’t become one to be so greedy.”
“There wasn’t time to invite the entire coven,” she replied with a hint of sarcasm. “She is resting quietly and will be ready for transport back to Sapelo with us after midnight, that is, if you have done your job and made those arrangements?”
“The arrangements are made,” he responded.
There was a moment of silence between them and William’s mind returned to the stir that Bridget’s missing body might have caused. It would have been a sight to behold, but also might have caused unwanted attention as well. With Bridget, ‘in the grave,’ it would be much easier for them to simply fade into the night as they were wont to do. As he thought on that, his mind returned to Elizabeth Proctor. Holding her close to him had almost been his undoing. He smiled as he thought about that intensely sweet moment.
“I know why you’re smiling,” Petronilla said, interrupting his thoughts.
“There is plenty of time for me to enjoy a taste before we hit the road,” he grinned.
“Your focus on this particular occasion has left a lot to be desired my dear William,” she retorted.
William shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for a pretty face.”
“Men,” Petronilla sighed. “You’re all alike.”
Chapter Twelve
Extended Vacation
Savannah, Georgia.
When Sam and the others returned to Tybee Island Sunday night, the mood was a little sullen among the adults. Tired and mosquito-bitten, they lounged outside on the upstairs balcony after all the kids had gone to bed.
“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news but I won’t be headed straight back to Fullerton with you and the kids on Thursday. I hope you guys don’t mind watching Tammy and Anthony for a few days until I get back.”
“And I’m too tired to even try to figure out what you mean by that, Sam, so please just go ahead and start explaining,” Mary Lou said weakly.
“I’m heading to New Orleans for a few days after this.”
“Is it the case you have been dabbling in for Kingsley?” Rick asked with more interest than Sam expected.
“Yeah. Turns out his client had some very important information about something that’s going to happen in Louisiana. As soon as the charges are dropped, they’ll both be flying out there to meet up with a couple of our other colleagues. It’s a big deal and they’ve asked for my help. I would have taken you all with me but I’m not sure what’s happening out there; it could be dangerous. I’m sorry if it’s an inconvenience.”
“Dangerous? Inconvenience? These aren’t words we typically use on summer vacation, Sam,” Mary Lou said as she sat up in her hammock. “There’s no way we’re gonna abandon you in the middle of the trip, the kids would have too many questions. And furthermore, New Orleans in summertime, you’ve got to be kidding! What’s more beautiful than that?” Her husband Rick looked like he was about to say something but Mary Lou stopped him dead in his tracks. “Don’t you even say Mardi Gras, Mister, or I’ll sock you over the head with this flip flop.”
Rick laughed, then turned to Sam and said, “I’m volunteering at the Fire Station next week but I’m sure I can push it back a couple of days. When do you think we’ll be heading back to Cali?”
“I would think by Sunday morning but if it gets more complicated, you guys and the kids will be going on home while I might have to stay behind,” Sam replied.
There was a moment of silence as they seemed to be mulling over the new arrangements and then Mary Lou suddenly howled, “It’s settled then, bring on Bourbon Street!”
Four days later, Dani picked them all up in her shiny, black Escalade. The smile on her face made Sam feel she was happy to have been chosen to chauffeur them again.
“How has your vacation been. Everyone?” Dani asked as she buckled her seatbelt and turned the key in the ignition.
“It’s been quite memorable,” Sam replied. “I would say that’s the best word for it all around.”
“Amen to that!” Mary Lou added.
“So, it’s back to Los Angeles for you then, huh?”
“No actually, a friend of ours has extended our vacation for us and is graciously hosting us in New Orleans for a few days… right on the Rue St. Ann, no less.”
“Oooooeeii!” Dani exclaimed. “Now, that there’s a friend I wouldn’t mind having for myself. That is a real class act of a holiday. You all better enjoy that one.”
“I really think we will,” Sam said finding it hard not to smile at Dani’s southern expressions. “The kids have never been to New Orleans.”
“It’s a must see, a real must see.”
The rest of the ride to the airport went by uneventfully and soon Dani was pulling the Escalade up to the doors of the departure area. Skycaps came running as her call and helped to take all eight suitcases down from the SUV. Rick handled the curbside check in and Mary Lou took the kids into the building to grab a snack while Sam paid and tipped Dani.
Sam was always so grateful to have Mary Lou around. She was a mortal mom; she always anticipated things like bathroom breaks and meals things Sam sometimes didn’t take into consideration since she had no such urges. But together, they made a great team because being a ‘mortal mom’, Mary Lou would sometimes let other things fall to the wayside while raising her brood and helping out so much with Sam’s two. In return, Sam regularly went shopping with her sister or sent Mary Lou on spa days so she could take a minute to take care of herself for a change.
When the flight landed at Louis Armstrong New Orleans airport, the kids were almost in a full blown frenzy. Rick had promised to take them straight to the DeVille Coffee House for lunch where they could have either Crepes Suzette and beignets or a hearty Muffaletta, a sandwich with loads of ham, salami, mozzarella and olive salad on a Kaiser roll. Tammy couldn’t wait to get her hands on one of the bowl sized cups of café au lait, while Anthony could already taste the ham and olives.
Mary Lou’s stomach started growling as soon as they got into the cab, so Sam suggested they go straight to the coffee shop to eat while she went with the luggage and got them checked in. The idea pleased everyone and no one asked if she wasn’t hungry. Of course she was hungry, just not for crepes and coffee.
As soon as Sam got into the hotel suite she would be sharing with Tammy and Anthony, she dug through her hand bag for the set of business cards Veronica Melbourne had given her weeks before. It was a virtual black book of all the underground ‘vampire food vendors’ Veronica usually patronized. In New Orleans, she would go to a little red brick house on Fairway Drive in Metairie and ask for Castille who would provide Sam with as many clean and safe and legally obtained blood bags as she could pay for. No questions asked.
Chapter Thirteen
Raccourci
New Orleans, Louisiana.
That evening, Mary Lou decided dinner in the hotel restaurant would be ideal after such a full and exciting day. After lunch at DeVille, Rick had taken M
ary Lou and the kids on a short tour around Jackson Square before walking to the hotel. The colors and sounds of the city had been quite overwhelming and everyone was exhausted… except for Sam.
She was vibrant refreshed and lively and throughout dinner she talked animatedly about her short visit to Metairie. She had taken a walk through the cemetery after her ‘lunch’ at the red brick house and then taken a tram ride straight down Canal Street and around to Toulouse Station. She walked from there to the hotel. Sauntering through Jackson Square and enjoying the views of St. Louis Cathedral.
When the children were in bed and sleeping, Sam dressed in a pair of jeans, t-shirt and a light jacket and stepped out into the hallway in the direction of Mary Lou and Rick’s room. They had an adjoining to the room next door where their three children were already fast asleep. Sam knocked softly on the door and Mary Lou answered it promptly in her dressing gown.
“I’m heading to Benoir House to meet with the Blackwell sisters. I shouldn’t be long,” Sam told her. “Listen out for Tammy and Anthony for me, please.”
“Sure thing, Sam. Good luck.”
Her destination was only a few blocks away and as Sam stepped out onto St. Ann Street, she quickly decided her route of choice. The streets weren’t too crowded and for that, she was grateful; a bustling city wasn’t Sam’s idea of vacationing. There was music coming from every bar and parlor, street carts sent their heady food scents into the air to lure customers for their vendors and in the distance Sam’s preternatural ears could hear the comforting rattle and chimes of the Canal Street tram car.
She took Royal Street across to Toulouse then turned North West and walked towards Dauphine Street. When she got to the corner that was dominated on both side by Benoir House, Sam knew she had reached her destination. The top two stories wrapped around the corner flawlessly as if the street had been an afterthought of the houses’ architecture, each with a balcony that ran around the entire length of the building. Black wrought iron columns and balustrades contrasted beautifully against the cornflower blue walls trimmed in white and navy blue. Baskets of colorful petunias and dianthus hung at regular intervals and set back against the walls were terracotta pots with dwarf palms in them. There was no doubt that if New Orleans was a house it would have been Benoir House. The deep rooted culture of its inhabitants was evident in the design of their home.