by Paul Perea
“They talk of the Devil, yet men have committed atrocities far beyond anything Satan could have devised. I have seen first-hand what men do to each other when they torture, when they wage war, for I was once a participant. They do these things all in the name of God—and if not for God, then blame the Devil!
“Yes, Mirabella, I am confined to this place—on that point you are correct. I can leave, as I am doing now, but never for very long. But I am one with the world. I slumber in her womb and press my ear to her breast. I listen—and I see. Even now, there are men who plot and devise fiendish schemes. Far away, across great oceans, they build armies and devise ways to cleanse the earth of their perceived enemies.
“Men will continue to destroy each other, mark my words. But they are too slow. Free me, Mirabella, so I may hasten the process. Let us be rid of the human blight once and for all. Together let’s exterminate these weeds from the Garden of Eden. There are others in the world, those like you and I, beings that stagger the imagination, creatures that exist in the shadows and swim in the deepest seas. Let us inherit this world before it is too late, before the humans destroy it. These humans that call themselves men are an aberration, a failing of nature.”
“I had not imagined you a philosopher,” Mirabella stated breathlessly, surprised by all Salazar had shared.
“I’ve been called worse,” Salazar acknowledged.
Mirabella took a deep breath and looked at his face—so sincere, so handsome. “So, you say you have experienced war. Tell me about that. You were once alive, weren’t you? A part of this world?”
“I’ll say no more on this!” Salazar answered dismissively.
“But you’re the one who has gone on and on, sharing your opinions, speaking with such authority on God and nature and human beings. I must say I find your desire to ‘hasten’ the demise of mankind horrifying. If we are a part of nature, then they are, too.”
Salazar considered her words. “Well then, let me try to convince you in another manner. Come, my stubborn witch. Let me do my best to make you understand why you should free me. I promise . . . I promise you I will do whatever you ask. Look at me. Do you really find me so repulsive? Do you think I’m incapable of love?”
Mirabella felt drawn to him and was tempted to take the hand that was offered. His long thick fingers beckoned her. Something had changed. His words held an elixir. Her heart was pounding and she felt something rising in her—something she had not felt in a very long time. Desire. No man since her husband had had this effect on her. Now here she was, wanting.
“You’ve been alone for so long,” Salazar said, his words a sensuous whisper. “You should be touched, caressed and worshiped. Feel my fingers on your body, Mirabella. They know the hidden place that disarms you and melts you like no other sensation. My lips are soft and my tongue will drive you mad.
“Do what I ask, and I will be yours. I will be your slave. I will kneel before you and give you whatever you want. I will make you feel like a woman again, naked and alive. More alive than ever you have been!”
Salazar watched as Mirabella moved tentatively to take his hand. She was succumbing to his enchantment. She was almost there. He reached behind and carefully unsnapped the sheath attached to his belt. He could feel the cold grip of the dagger housed there.
Mirabella started to undo the ties on her dress, the heat of desire warming her body, when a strong wind pushed through the woods. The trees groaned and cracked, their wooden voices breaking the enchantment.
“I know what it is you want and again my answer is no!” Mirabella cried, shaken and ashamed by what had almost transpired.
“Well then, I suppose there is nothing more to say,” Salazar said, and moved his arms gracefully to the side and bowed. Behind him, the dark river undulated and a wall of water rose up, forming a giant hand. In an instant, it rushed towards Mirabella.
Salazar’s swift attack was met with an immediate response. A bubble of heat expanded around her womanly form as a rush of fiery wings encircled her, extinguishing the water and causing it to sizzle and steam.
Salazar stood gripping his right hand, his eyes fixed on Mirabella in amazement and confusion.
“Argh! What have you done?” he uttered through wincing pain as he dropped the dagger and clutched his wrist in an effort to quell the burn.
In pain! He’s in pain! Mirabella thought as she witnessed his reaction. Convinced that she was not dealing with a mere ghost or spirit, she took quick advantage of the situation.
“I’m not your usual witch so I suggest you do not try attacking me again. The next time, it could be your head that’s sizzling. Before I send you back to hell, I want some answers, and you are going to cooperate. Look down, Señor.”
Salazar felt the roots of a nearby tree quickly snaking up his legs and torso, encasing him and holding him fast. He tried to move, but could not budge. Restrained, he was unable to disappear. Every movement caused his prison to tighten.
“You may have dominion over the water but I command the earth. Don’t struggle, you will only make it worse,” Mirabella cautioned as she walked toward him. She looked directly into his eyes, a show of strength on her part. She was angered by his attack.
“Now, I am no fool, and from what I have gathered, you are held to this place by some kind of force. There must be a portal here, a doorway through which you can pass into my world. You are not a ghost—you are solid—you can kill. Why this place? Who imprisoned you? What are you? You must tell me!”
Salazar looked at her and smiled. “My, so many questions, so little time. You’re a fine witch, I’ll give you that. But if you will not help me, there are always others who will, and there is one in particular that can help me out of my current predicament. I can be patient. Tell me, mujer, what makes you think your little wooden prison is going to force me to tell you anything? Stupid woman!”
She circled him, thinking fast. Damn it, Mirabella! You came here to confront him, to get some answers. How in the hell are you going to make him talk?
Her enchantment was not working properly. The spell was keeping him from vanishing, but it failed to force him to tell the truth. Perhaps he is immune. Perhaps a creature of magic was not affected by it, she wondered, as she stood close to him, almost touching him and holding his gaze.
“Well, you’ve got me, my dear. Now what are you going to do with me?” He taunted, and then began to sing an arrullo. She recognized the lullaby. It was a song her father used to sing to her when she was a girl.
“Lie down in the clouds,
close your eyes.
Dream of sweets, chocolates
and pies.
Float away with the clouds,
up to a star.
I’m here with you,
I’m never far.
Sleep little one,
my beloved child.
Ever so sweet,
ever so mild.”
It was her father’s voice—as clear as if he were holding her close. A child, with her little legs dangling as they danced cheek to cheek. She was immobile, taking comfort from the words—his words. She could smell him, the mix of salty sweat and soap. She listened to the song as it moved her, swayed her, a little girl in the sweet protection of her papa. She was mesmerized. She was dreaming. She was floating. Mirabella felt her world melt away as she listened to the song that Salazar continued to sing. Or was it her father?
Sevilla. Mirabella was home. She recognized it. Dim light in the dark room. Large heavy paintings on the walls. Canvases on which faces peered out from another world, another time. They watched her but she was unafraid of the faces. They were saints, rulers, people of importance. They would not harm a little girl.
Mirabella was scooped up in her daddy’s arms, her face pressed into his neck and the hint of cigar on his breath. He sang to her softly and rocked her until her body began to go l
imp with sleep. He carried her to bed. Her eyes were heavy as he kissed her on the forehead and told her that he loved her.
“Daddy! Don’t leave me. I’m afraid of the dark,” she whispered. “Please. Please light a candle.”
“Don’t be afraid of the dark, my little one. The angels will watch over you. Now go to sleep.”
Mirabella could feel her lids grow heavy, and her body began to swoon as sleep took hold.
“That’s it. Go to sleep, go to sleep,” Salazar cooed.
Mirabella yawned as tears ran down her face. More would come and she would cry herself to sleep as the faces on the wall watched. She hated them. She hated being left alone in the dark. Her tears fell in perfect droplets from her face onto the waiting hand that flexed and protruded from the tangled prison.
The sound of crackling roots and vines shook Mirabella awake as Salazar worked his spell. Still recovering from his attempt to possess her mind, she stood inches from his face, and he smiled at her, revealing rows of sharp teeth. Startled by the ghastly sight, she screamed and stumbled backward, scrambling to regain her footing. Behind him, she could make out figures crawling out of the river. They clawed at the earth in jerking motions as they pulled themselves forward on watery hands and knees.
“A witch’s salty tears can be used in the most interesting ways. Thank you for the gift. As you can see, you’re not the only one with some tricks up the sleeve,” Salazar said as he twisted and wrenched himself free of the splitting tree roots. “Too bad you didn’t take my suggestion and go to sleep. Your death would have been painless!”
Horrified, Mirabella watched as his watery wraiths moved closer, their appearance changing form. Skin stretched tightly over their skulls, revealing blackened gums, sharp yellow teeth, and custard eyes lolling in blood-soaked sockets. Their bodies were sinewy, with hands stiff and claw-like. They cursed at Mirabella and their language was as foul as their appearance.
Salazar stood near the water’s edge and called out to his demons like a commander ordering his troops to attack.
“Let’s see what they do with you!” Salazar shouted, and issued a command. “Tear the witch apart!”
Mirabella retreated toward the woods, trying to put some distance between herself and the wraiths. Dawn was approaching and Mirabella realized that her spell of protection was wearing off. The cool air made it painfully clear that she would soon be left to the mercy of Salazar and his demonic army.
Please, God. Give me time to get away from these demons.
The creatures drew closer as Mirabella searched her mind for a way out.
“Use your staff,” a chorus of voices whispered in her ear as her walking stick erupted in a blaze of angelic power.
Mirabella swung out at the creatures, decapitating the nearest and rendering it a muddy pool in front of her. Her movements were awkward, lashing out in wide arcs, slicing through some, missing others. And as she fought, more rose from the water to join the attack.
There are too many! I can’t do this on my own! I need help!
In a desperate attempt, she raised the staff to the heavens and cried out, “Hecate! Empower your faithful daughter. Rise and destroy my enemies!”
A sudden wind moved violently through the trees, causing them to bend, their thin branches reaching toward the sandy battlefield. They whipped at the earth and air, leaving dismembered, vanquished wraiths in their wake.
As the trees dispensed with his army, Mirabella ran toward Salazar, her walking stick held high in her hands.
“Angels! Steady my aim and let this weapon convey him to hell!” she cried out as she brought the staff down upon his head like a fiery hammer.
Salazar’s bellows echoed throughout the bosque as the flaming staff struck him. The wraiths felt it, too, and cried out as they were reduced to hissing steam and ash. Salazar’s legs buckled, his body afire and arms flailing, his blues eyes fixed on Mirabella. He looked at her, fell forward, and vanished.
Spent, Mirabella dropped to her knees in agony. Gooseflesh covered her body as the cool morning air announced that the angels had departed and she was now unprotected. Mirabella shuddered, grabbed her lantern and staff, and ran back to the village as fast as her legs could carry her.
CHAPTER 7
On the night that Gabriella Mondragon was born, a violent wind roared against the adobe house. It used its fingers to whip the sand into dust devils. It pushed against the house and pressed through any crack and crevice it could find. The wind demanded to be heard, but Gabriella did not answer—she barely whimpered—even after the caul had been removed from her head.
“Gabriella,” David whispered as he kissed her forehead lightly. He handed his daughter back to the doctor then bent down and kissed his wife.
Ruth, her body spent and her face shining from sweat, struggled to see the child. “Is she okay? She’s not crying.”
“She’s fine. She’s already well-behaved,” the doctor answered as he placed the writhing little bundle into Ruth’s waiting arms. He was about to speak when a soft knock on the door interrupted him. He motioned for the midwife, who finished washing her hands and went to attend to the visitors.
She cracked open the door and peeked out at the group. “Señora. Your family is here.”
“Let them in, Isabel. Then would you please go tell my parents the news. They are staying at the inn. Here.” David handed the girl some money and waved her away.
Mirabella entered tentatively, followed closely by her brother, Joseph. The rest huddled and waited anxiously by the door, standing on tiptoe, leaning over each other and trying their best to steal a peek. Mirabella hugged and kissed David, then sat down on the bed and moved the blanket to get a better look.
“She’s beautiful! Oh Ruth, this is truly a blessing,” Mirabella whispered and smiled.
“Golly, can we come in yet?” Salome asked impatiently.
Mirabella chuckled. “Yes, come have a look at your niece.”
They rushed in, a controlled stampede, shaking hands and hugging David, kissing Ruth, and oohing and aahing over the baby. The room was filled with laughter, everyone excited, talking all at once without waiting for replies. Finally, the doctor interrupted the revelry and politely asked them to leave to allow Ruth some rest.
“Please, doctor, may my mother stay with me?” Ruth asked.
“Si, Señora Cortez may stay a while longer, but the rest of you should go. You can all come back tomorrow for a visit,” he said, waving his arms and herding them out of the room.
“Honey, would you see my family out?” Ruth asked, and David complied, leaving her alone with her mother.
“Mama, David doesn’t know this but Gabriella was born with the veil!”
Mirabella smiled as she smoothed her daughter’s hair.
“Hmm, she’ll have the second sight. What did the doctor do?”
“He didn’t seem too concerned. I was in so much pain but I heard him tell Isabel to help him remove the caul. I’m afraid, mama. What if—”
“Shhh. Gabriella will be fine—I’ll see to that,” Mirabella said and smiled. “Just focus on the joy of this moment and I’ll see to the rest.”
“I can’t believe I have a baby and I don’t know the first thing about being a mother!” Ruth whispered and then started to cry.
“Ah, you’ll be fine. Besides, you have your sisters and me to help you,” Mirabella chuckled, then grimaced, “and unfortunately your mother-in-law, too.”
Ruth giggled at her mother’s impropriety. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m so sore and in pain.”
“I’m sorry, mija, but you know I can’t resist. That mother-in-law of yours is too much!” Mirabella beamed and continued to stroke her daughter’s hair. She kissed her softly on the forehead and cheeks, and then whispered into Ruth’s ear, “My love, you know this child is going to be special. I sense it. She will need instruc
tion. She will—”
“It wasn’t easy, but they’re all gone now,” David said, smiling as he came back into the room.
Mirabella stood up and straightened her dress. “I should go, as well, and let the two of you rest. David’s family will be here soon and they will want some time alone with all of you.”
“You don’t have to go, Mari. My mother and father would love to see you.”
Mirabella knew better. While they maintained a civil relationship, her in-laws were not overtly friendly and she understood that they preferred limited interaction.
“No. I have a houseful waiting for me and I should be on my way. Give your parents my best and I’ll be back in the morning,” she said as she hugged and kissed them both goodbye.
Mirabella walked home at a leisurely pace, thoughts whirling in her head like a swarm of bees. My granddaughter will be gifted and will have the second sight at that! Ruth can no longer tend to the teaching of the craft and David knows nothing of what we really are. I must insist she allow me to take my granddaughter under my wing.
“Hola, mujer! I see you’re a grandma now!”
The deep voice shocked Mirabella from her private reflection. She could feel the flesh rise all over her body as she reeled about, looking for the source and readying for a fight.
“Down here. Don’t be afraid . . . you of all people should know better.”
Mirabella focused on the dark road ahead of her. As her eyes adjusted, she saw a large raven blocking her path. Her relief exhaled in an audible gasp.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you. What are you doing here?” Mirabella asked, annoyed for having been momentarily afraid.
The raven cocked his head to one side. “Why, I’ve simply come to offer my congratulations. Did I anger you when I called you ‘grandma’?”
“Certainly not! So, I see you’re up to your old tricks again—spying on me and my family.”
“Spying?” the raven mocked. “No, woman, I’m not spying on you. I was merely interested, that’s all.”