by Jen McConnel
Isobel did not reassure them, remaining as solitary as ever and only leaving her cottage to tend to the ill when she was summoned. No one visited her, none that is save her niece, little Nan, who came whenever she could slip away from her father and her new stepmother. Sometimes folk would see her coming and going, and while they all knew that Alexander Nairn had forbidden his child to have contact with her aunt, no one was willing to tell him what they had seen. The villagers realized that the visits from the little girl were the only bright spots left in Isobel’s life, and they bore her no ill will; they would not take away her last joy.
The years passed by, and Isobel grew more and more isolated from the village. The births she attended steadily slowed to a trickle until at last she was not called at all. Whether she noticed or cared was a mystery, for the only person that ever saw her anymore was her niece. The child was growing up quite nicely, and would, everyone agreed, one day make a lovely young woman. Her devotion to her aunt marked her as loyal and kind, and while the villagers avoided Isobel, they were pleased to see her niece taking such an interest in her. What the two talked about on her visits, no one knew, but it was no wonder the poor little girl wanted to spend time with her mother’s sister.
Janet Nairn, Alexander’s second wife, finally conceived a child, though the villagers whispered that she would not carry any babe of Alexander Nairn’s to term, because of their ill-timed marriage and his lack of care for the spirits of the dead, including his first wife. No one wanted to tell Isobel the news, but it was certain that her niece informed her, as frequently as she visited the cottage in the woods. No one knew what Isobel thought of Janet’s pregnancy, if she thought of it at all. Isobel stayed in her cottage and did not come out, even to offer congratulations to the wife of her brother-in-law. Although she did not speak of such things, it was correctly assumed that Isobel blamed Alexander Nairn for the death of her sister, and the villagers were certain that a measure of her malice would be directed at his second wife, whom he wed in such haste after Margaret’s death. Despite this knowledge, no one of St. Andrews stopped to worry that Isobel might, in her unhinged state, plot against her former brother-in-law, and no one anticipated that she would seek vengeance.
No one could have guessed what would happen, and no one was prepared when it did.
Chapter Twenty
When Lou opened her eyes, the dormitory was dark. She stood up, stiff from sitting for so long, and began searching for a pen and paper to try and jot down the disjointed images she had seen. Fire, yes that was clear, and blood, so much blood that remembering it made her ill. The other images were more vague, and the longer she thought about them, the more she found them slipping away from her.
Frustrated, she threw her pen across the room, and it bounced off the door before rolling on the floor. Tammy poked her head into the room.
“So, did the spirits tell you anything?” She teased, bending to pick up the pen that Lou had thrown.
“No!” Lou snapped, frustrated with her friend’s attitude and herself for not remembering more of what she had seen. “I know I saw things, I just can’t remember much, just blood, and fire, and… oh, this is frustrating! I feel like I saw exactly what happened before Isobel was arrested, but I can’t quite hang on to the memory.” She smacked her hand down on the table. “Damn it. I was so sure this would help me, and instead I feel more confused!” She crumpled up the paper she had been writing on, and flung it into the wastebasket. She flopped on her bed, sulking.
Tammy fished the paper out of the basket. “Look. Do you really think this kind of mumbo-jumbo works?”
Lou looked at her friend and then buried her face in the pillow. “Yes.”
Tammy snorted. “That’s just creepy.”
The pillow muffled Lou’s voice, but Tammy could still make out her words. “It’s not creepy, it’s called divination. That’s what I was trying to do. The woman at the store said I could, and I wanted to believe her, so I tried, but it was a waste!”
“What woman, and what store?”
Lou sighed and told Tammy about her tarot reading, but as she told the story, Tammy crossed her arms and shook her head.
Finally, Tammy swallowed nervously. “Lou, you didn’t fail. That stuff is all made up, anyways, and besides, only the nut jobs who sacrifice squirrels really believe in that crap.”
Lou shook her head stubbornly, her hand straying to the pentacle hidden beneath her shirt. “It isn’t just the nut jobs, Tammy. Lots of people believe in magic, in one form or another. Not everyone who uses divination or calls themselves a witch is crazy, and for that matter, absolutely no one who practices Wicca would ever sacrifice another living being, even a squirrel. That goes against the Rede.”
Tammy was silent, staring at her as if she had grown another head.
“Witches believe that you have free will and freedom of action, but you cannot use your actions to knowingly do harm to anyone or anything else. That’s the Rede, ‘an it harm none, do what you will. It’s like the witch’s Golden Rule.’” Lou looked straight at Tammy as she spoke, willing her friend to understand what she was saying. “It’s basically the same code of ethics that every major religion believes.”
Tammy shook her head forcefully. “I don’t know where you heard about that stuff, but it sounds dangerous to me.”
Lou shook her head, exasperated. “Wicca is a peaceful religion. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
Tammy wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Lou, you’ve been reading too many weird books. Let’s just forget all this, okay?”
Lou sighed. Now was not the time to try to explain to Tammy, but she wouldn’t give up. “We can drop it for now. But will you at least think about what I’ve said?”
Tammy nodded slightly, then turned on her heel and left the room. Lou was left alone in the gathering dark, a smudged salt circle on the floor, the crystal still clutched in her hand.
1666
When Janet Nairn’s time came, her husband sent Nan to stay with his parents and then promptly fetched his good friend the doctor. The doctor and Janet labored through the night, but for all his skill, she was stone dead before dawn. The child she had been carrying, a son, took one breath of the cold air, and followed his mother to the grave. The birthing room was a grisly scene; there had been so much blood lost that the doctor wondered if Janet had died of internal hemorrhaging. Could he have saved her? He stared at the body in grief as he whispered a final prayer. When the room had been silent many minutes, Alexander Nairn could wait no longer, and pushed into the chamber. He saw his wife’s still and blood-soaked body, and his eyes beheld the doctor wrapping a shroud around his tiny child, and he was struck mad. He lunged at the doctor, and began throttling him around the neck. His strong hands gripped tightly, and his eyes glazed over with rage. Overcome with fear, the doctor reached his hand out to the side, searching for something to cling to. He was not yet ready to die, and at once his fingers closed around his wickedly sharp scalpel, still sitting there on the table. He hesitated for an instant, but then he thrust the knife upward with all his strength. His assailant dropped like a stone, blood foaming out of his mouth, his eyes wild in his skull, and the doctor stood by, frozen, while Alexander Nairn perished.
After a moment’s pause, the doctor bent to remove his scalpel from the body of his friend. He didn’t notice that his hands were shaking as he cleaned the blade with a cloth and placed it inside his case. Calmly, he went to the washbasin and rinsed the blood from his hands. The ritual soothed him, and he tried to think his way out of the terrible situation. Self-defense or not, he could not risk his practice over this misunderstanding. As he straightened his clothes, his mind was working furiously, and by the time he had been set to rights, he had a plan.
He stepped out of the Nairn’s blue painted front door and called to a boy passing in the street. He gave the lad a coin and sent him to fetch the old midwife who lived just beyond town. He claimed that Janet Nairn swore she wanted no one else t
o deliver her child, and, the doctor smiled as he spoke, he was not one to let professional jealousy keep him from doing exactly as his patient wished. When the boy set off at a trot, the doctor surveyed the street, and finding it satisfactorily empty, turned away from the Nairn house and headed back to his own establishment, vanishing into the misty morning.
Chapter Twenty-one
“Lou, you have a phone call.” The receptionist poked her head around the corner to the hostel library, where Lou was curled up in a comfy chair.
Lifting the green receiver in her hand, Lou paused, wondering if Brian was calling to schedule another date. Her voice shook with excitement as she said, “Hello?”
“Louisa? Can you hear me, dear?”
Lou’s heart fell. “I can hear you, Mother. What’s wrong?”
“How’s Scotland, dear?”
“It’s--rainy. But it’s fine. Why did you call?”
Her mother huffed indignantly. “Can’t a mother call her daughter on Christmas?”
Lou glanced at the calendar behind the desk and slapped her forehead. “Of course! I’m so sorry I didn’t call last night. I haven’t really been paying attention to the days.”
Silence descended on the line. After a moment, her mother said, “Well?”
“Oh! Merry Christmas.”
“And Merry Christmas to you, too. I must admit, I was afraid that you’d forgotten all about Christmas.”
“I’d forgotten what day it is, but I haven’t forgotten you and Dad. I’m sorry I didn’t call.”
Her mother sighed. “That’s not what I mean. Some of the things Tammy said made me worry.”
Lou felt her palms growing slick with sweat. “What did Tammy say?”
Her mother laughed gently. “She called us to wish us a happy holiday, and she mentioned that you’d been mixed up in some silly hocus pocus.” Her tone was light, but her words were sharp.
Lou drew a deep breath. “That’s not a conversation I want to have with you right now, Mother.”
There was a pause. “Just remember, Louisa, that you’re part of our family. I hate to think you’d do anything to shame us.”
Gritting her teeth, Lou struggled to answer. “I always do my best to make you proud.”
“And you do, Louisa, you do. Just don’t let your brain rot in that Scottish air!”
Lou changed the subject. “We’ve been doing some historical research while we’re here. Scotland is really interesting.”
Her mother sighed. “I was worried about that, too. What’s the point of spending your vacation doing research? It’s not like you can bring anything you find to your job, now is it?”
Lou’s heart stopped. Had Tammy told her mother that she quit her job? “What do you mean?” She asked carefully.
“Well, dear, there’s certainly no reason for a bookstore clerk to conduct research. It’s a shame you don’t have a job that demands more of you.”
Feeling her shoulders tense, Lou took a deep breath. “You’re right. I’ll have to start looking for another job when we come back.”
“Don’t worry about that right now, Louisa. Just enjoy your vacation. I hope you girls find time to go to church. I’m sure a town named after a saint has at least one church!”
Lou rolled her eyes. “Bye, Mom. Merry Christmas.”
After Lou hung up the phone, she headed up the stairs to confront her best friend.
Tammy was sprawled across her bed, reading a tattered romance novel. She glanced up when Lou entered the room, and sat up immediately.
“What’s wrong?”
Lou’s anger bubbled over. “What’s wrong? I just got off the phone with my mother. What do you think could be wrong?”
Tammy dog-eared her book and set it to one side. “Did you wish her a Merry Christmas for me?”
“I hardly needed to, since you talked to her earlier today.”
Tammy nodded firmly. “I did. I called her because I’m worried about you.”
Lou clenched her hands. “Tammy, I told you those things because you’re my best friend. I thought you would understand that I’m trying to figure things out.”
“There are other ways to figure things out!” Tammy exploded, her eyes flashing. “I don’t understand what’s going on with you!”
“If you’d listened to me, you’d understand that I don’t think scrying is stupid! Tammy, I still haven’t figured out what I believe, but you’re going to have to deal with the fact that I don’t really feel comfortable with our parents’ faith.”
Tammy glared at her. “And don’t you think your mother has a right to know that?”
“No! I’m twenty-one. When will everyone stop butting in?” Tammy looked stunned, but Lou pressed on. “What I believe is up to me, and no one else. I shared things with you because I trust you. I can’t believe you called my mother!”
“I just don’t want you to do anything dangerous.”
“It’s not like I’m sacrificing animals and worshiping the devil, Tammy!”
“But that’s what witches do, isn’t it? How many of those women in the court records really thought they were witches? If you asked me that yesterday, I’d say none of them. But then my best friend tells me she believes in magic. Of course I’m worried about you!”
Lou drew a deep breath. “Look, I appreciate your concern. But this is my life, and I want to figure things out in my own way. Can you let me do that?”
Sulking, Tammy flopped back onto her bed. “Fine. Just don’t involve me.”
“Fine.” Lou turned and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
She glared at Tammy. “To brush my teeth, not that it’s any of your damn business.” She slammed the door behind her, cutting off Tammy’s reply.
1666
Isobel’s screams woke the town, and the first men on the scene found her in the bloody chamber, surrounded by death. No one doubted what had transpired, especially when the good doctor reminded the townsfolk of the animosity Isobel bore her brother-in-law for taking a second wife.
The people of St. Andrews were saddened that one of their own could fall so far into madness, for it was surely madness that had possessed her, but the doctor insisted that it was another form of possession.
He named her witch, a consort of the devil, and he listed not only the murders of that night but also the death of her own sister five years past as proof of her crimes. The children had been whispering just such a charge against her, that she was a witch and an agent of evil, and now the wise doctor stood before them, making the same charges. None spoke against him, for his accusations made a certain amount of sense. Isobel was arrested and led to the gaol that night.
Chapter Twenty-two
That night, Lou had a frightening dream.
She saw a woman with dark hair struggling, panting, crying out, and a man bending over her. When he straightened up, Lou saw that he held a shriveled newborn. She watched in horror as blood flowed from the woman on the bed, and she saw the crying infant turn purple, then blue, and then still. The man seemed helpless to stop the death around him, but he calmly and gently covered the infant with a cloth, and was turning to cover the body of the woman in a similar fashion when the dream suddenly shifted.
It was still the same room, Lou was sure of it, but now every surface appeared drenched in blood. The body on the bed was still there, but now another corpse had been added—a man lying on the floor, covered in blood. It was not the same man Lou had seen first, she was certain of it.
The door to the room opened, and suddenly Lou’s vision went black, and all that was left of the dream were the gut wrenching sobs of a woman and the sound of myriad voices chanting one word over and over again: “witch, witch, witch, witch, witch.”
Lou woke up in her bed with a small scream, and at first she had absolutely no idea where she was. She stayed still, frozen in terror for a moment, but when she heard the sound of snoring coming from the bed beside her, reality came rushing back and she rea
lized she was in St. Andrews. She breathed a sigh of relief, but no matter how much she told herself that everything was now alright, she couldn’t coax her mind back to sleep. It kept replaying the scenes of her nightmare interspersed with her fight with Tammy.
She lay awake until the digital clock beside her read 5:45, and then she quietly slipped out of bed. She got dressed in the dark, careful not to wake Tammy or the other girls. She crept from the room, carrying her shoes in one hand and her coat in the other. In the lobby, she slipped her shoes and coat on and headed outside.
Dawn was not yet there, and the streets were tinged an unearthly violet. Lou didn’t really have a plan or a destination in mind, so she was a bit surprised when her feet led her to the ruins of the cathedral on the far side of the town. It was a spot she had noticed when Brian was showing them around that first day, but Lou hadn’t really had a chance to take in the striking visual. The walls of the cathedral were crumbling in many places, but there were segments with windows still standing, intricately carved hundreds of years ago. When Lou looked at the cathedral from the front, she could glimpse the sea through the windows, and as she walked around the side, her view shifted to the old cemetery, once sheltered within the walls of the church, now open to the elements.
Lou circled the ruins once, slowly drinking in the sights of decay and death juxtaposed against the vibrant churchyard grass and the rolling ocean. By the time she had made her way entirely around the ruins, the sun had appeared. Lou found on bench on the far side of the cathedral and paused, sinking into thought.
She sat there as the sun climbed, and she just stared. She stared at the blackened, crumbling stones of the church, at the long-forgotten headstones, and at the stark beauty of the ruin. Seagulls swooped and cried above her, and Lou reveled in the wild solitude. She was still sitting there when an old man shuffled up to the gate around the cemetery and carefully unlocked the chain around the door. He swung the gate inward, inviting passersby to stroll through the resting place of the ancient dead.