The First Circle

by Paul Perea

  “Maria! That’s enough of the dramatics!” Mancha scolded, then turned her attention to Gabriella. “Do you remember the one we speak of, child?”

  Gabriella looked at the three women and nodded. “Yes . . . I . . . I remember him.”

  Mancha patted Gabriella’s hand and held it tight. “The one you recall has a name—Salazar—and he has been planning and plotting for a very long time. His history is intertwined with ours, and with yours and your family. Long ago, in another place and time, we tried to stop him but we failed. Your grandmother tried, as well, and she too failed.

  “You have the power to put an end to this evil, to destroy this thing once and for all. You may be the only one who can do it!”

  Gabriella walked around the room in distress. “I’m sorry but as far as I can tell my abilities are nothing compared to what the three of you can do! I was never as skilled as my grandmother or aunts or uncle! How in the world can I possibly deal with this Salazar? Please, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but how can you say these things and expect me to believe you?”

  Mancha considered the girl’s questions thoughtfully. “True, you don’t know us so why should you believe us? How can I assure you that what I tell you is the truth?

  “Ever since you were born, Salazar has been a presence in your life. He held and cooed to you when you were a baby. He told you stories when you were a little girl. He made promises to you that were wondrous and fanciful.

  “Then he stopped visiting. He disappeared. Life went on and you all but forgot about him. You see, your grandmother took care to see that you were safe from harm and never told you of the danger. But she remained alert, and rightly so. Mirabella knew that that monster might be plotting, ready to come forth at any time to snatch you away. She tried her best to make sure you were able to take care of yourself and did what she could to help you hone your powers.

  “But she was soft where you were concerned. When you struggled and demanded to live like a normal teenage girl, Mirabella acquiesced. She rarely denied you anything. That was a grave mistake. Now you stand at a crossroad and neither path will lead you to safety. If you ignore what is coming, you, and those you love, will perish. If you choose to take action and allow us to help you, then together we may stand a chance.

  “I tell you these things not to scare you. I must convince you that what I say is true, that my knowledge of the past is enough to know what lies in your future.

  “Gabriella, what makes you special isn’t so much what you have learned or mastered. What makes you special is what is inherent within you. You were born with a combination of gifts that is rare in our kind. Your intuitive skill is unmatched . . . you simply have to learn to trust in yourself and act quickly, and then you will be able to do things you think unimaginable. We will help you to gain that confidence, and then—”

  “Then what?” Gabriella interrupted. “You expect me to kill him? I couldn’t even deal with a . . .” The words caught in her throat as she struggled, and then she broke down in tears. “I couldn’t even stop a boy, a boy with no magical powers . . .”

  Maria threw her arms around Gabriella and held her as she sobbed. “There, there. You don’t have to say it. We know. We understand.”

  “You take too much of this upon yourself,” Magdalena said in her usual mordant manner. “You are in love, and that Daniel fellow was possessed. Stop your fretting and listen up, silly girl!”

  “That’s enough, Magda!” Mancha demanded.

  Magdalena ignored her and continued with veracity. “When Salazar chooses to attack, he will not be as kind as Mancha. He will act fast and he will show you no mercy, no matter how much you cry and scream. If you are to stand a chance, it’s best you know what you’re dealing with.

  “Salazar is a killer like no other. He toys with his victims, like a cat with a mouse. He uses his words to enchant, to lull, and to entice his prey so that he can get close enough to enjoy the kill. He will look directly into your eyes. He will hold his mouth close to yours, watching the light of life diminish, inhaling your last exhalation of breath as you die in his arms. And if he cannot bewitch you, he will strike like a snake, lightning fast, and you won’t know what hit you.

  “We will share with you his history and why you are his target. For you see, no matter what, he is coming and he is coming for you. Mark my words, if you don’t learn to fight back, he will take you, and you will soon learn that death would be a mercy compared to what he has in store for you.”

  CHAPTER 30

  The Tale of Francisco Salazar

  “In the year 1540, Francisco Vasquez de Coronado led an expedition into New Spain in search of Cíbola, the seven cities of gold. The person who had reported the existence of these remarkable pueblos was a man of the cloth, a friar who had accompanied an earlier expedition in which many men had perished. Coronado, believing this incredible story, put his own fortune into the quest.

  “Coronado eventually made his way to a pueblo settlement called Tiguex, where one of his leaders was encamped. The pueblo was located near the Rio Grande River, downstream from present day Arroyo. As winter approached, Coronado made plans for his army to remain in the Tiguex Pueblo until spring. While among the Puebloans, Coronado heard an additional rumor from a native that there was a city with plenty of gold called Quivira, located on the other side of the great plains.

  “Coronado ordered a small team of men to explore as far as the buffalo plains and to hopefully locate the gold. He and some of his men remained in Tiguex, while his explorers pushed farther east to continue their quest. During their mission, the conquistadores encountered many pueblos and prepared detailed accounts of what they saw, including descriptions of the layouts of the native villages and their people. What they didn’t find was treasure.

  “During this time, one of Coronado’s men, Francisco Salazar, had taken great pains to ingratiate himself to the Tigueritos. The Indians found Francisco Salazar to be unlike most of the conquistadores they had encountered in the past. Salazar was kind to them and treated them humanely. They liked him and trusted him enough to teach him many things about their culture, from their practices in warfare to religion and even sexual customs. But the thing that interested Salazar the most was the power possessed by their mystic leader. Gold, women, money—none of it mattered to him. If he acquired what he sought, he would possess powers beyond comprehension. He would become a god, omnipotent and immortal.

  “Salazar, using all of his cunning, not only earned entry into the mystic’s circle but was also invited to participate in some of the tribe’s rituals. Unfortunately, the mystic leader had not known that Salazar was quite accomplished in the darker side of the craft. In fact, not only was Salazar adept at black magic, he was a remorseless killer who had murdered his own lover while still pregnant with his child.

  “It wasn’t long before neighboring pueblos began to report the disappearances of children. Rumors spread of an evil spirit—a dark god who was exacting a cruel punishment on the people. And as the disappearances increased, panic began to rise among the general populace. And so did suspicion.

  “Some felt that the cause of the missing children was less supernatural and rooted in a more, earthly plane. The tribe suspected that the Spaniards were responsible for the abductions and feared that their young people were being kidnapped and sold into slavery. Tensions rose, but before the fighting could commence, the Spaniards offered to help.

  “Both the Indians and Spaniards sent search parties to locate the missing children and the abductors. They fanned out from the pueblo and headed toward the desert and mountains, and north and south along the Rio Grande River. The parties covering the desert and mountains returned with nothing. The group following the river south traveled for many miles, but eventually came upon a grisly scene.

  “The bodies were found floating in the river, anchored by rocks as they moved to and fro by the current’s
gentle pull. All had injuries to their person, and even the most battle-seasoned men were sickened by what they saw. They wept openly as they recovered the bodies, and after carefully wrapping the corpses in blankets, brought them back for a proper burial. Great sorrow overcame the villages, and the people were numb with pain and shocked by the savage brutality. Fear permeated the tribes, and they took great care in providing protection for their loved ones. It didn’t take long for thoughts of anger and revenge to overtake the sorrow and dread that they had all been feeling. The killer or killers must be found!

  “Marks on the bodies suggested that the children had been killed ritualistically. All bore the same wounds. All were missing their hearts. The men who examined the bodies kept this information from the rest of the tribe, especially the women and the families whose children had been victims of the horrific crimes. The news would have been too traumatic. It was hard enough to lose a son or daughter, but worse to find out that the child had been mutilated.

  “Tension grew once more between the Spanish and the Indians, and before long, a battle broke out. The Indians attacked Coronado’s men with the combined force of the separate tribes, aiming to kill as many of the intruders as possible and drive out any survivors. Their plan failed. The conquistadores were too much for the poor pueblo fighters and the ensuing slaughter was immense. Most of the Indian fighters were killed and Coronado claimed victory. The defeat was too much to bear for the Indian people, coming on the heels of the horrifying murder of innocents.

  “Armed with knowledge of the Indians’ fighting techniques, Salazar was an effective combatant who slew scores of Indians single-handedly and was commended by Coronado, but Salazar was no longer welcome among the Indian people. That no longer mattered. He had gotten what he wanted: knowledge of their sacred magic and the blood of their young, for he was the killer they sought.

  “Spring was coming, the earth reborn, and like the season, Salazar would attempt to make his transformation final. He would become something altogether new—a terrible being, no longer a man and as great as any demon from the depths of hell itself. He would no longer be submissive to any general or king. In fact, none would exist. Salazar’s goal was not one of conquest; nor was it to rule over men. His goal was to rid the earth of all human kind! All he needed was one more sacrifice of a pure innocent.

  “Unbeknownst to Salazar, the mystic leader of the tribe had harbored suspicions of Salazar’s intentions. He was sure that the killer was the man he had once called his friend, and understood that the conquistadors, Salazar included, thought they were nothing but savages. This blindness would be Salazar’s undoing.

  “It was a clear full-moon night when Salazar set out on his last deadly errand. This time his intended victim was a baby girl, not quite one month old, located in a home on the outskirts of the pueblo. The child’s father had been killed in battle, so the baby’s only protection was her mother and some young siblings. The pickings would be easy, or so Salazar thought.

  “The kidnapping was easily accomplished. He slipped into the home without incident, found the bundled child, and left without anyone stirring from slumber. Salazar was careful not to wake the infant lest her crying raise the alarm. He moved quickly and quietly away from the village and headed toward the bosque that ran along the river. The exact place where he would perform his ritual was already prepared. His plan was unfolding perfectly.

  “Salazar reached the clearing and gently placed the sleeping baby on the ground. He stood over the child, discarding his cloak to reveal his finest clothing, his silver hair and blue eyes illuminated by the full moon overhead. He took the ritual dagger and raised it over his head, his arms stretched to the heavens. He looked up as he began to chant in a language not known to any Indian or Spaniard. As he worked his incantation, he took the dagger in one hand and cut into the other, drawing blood that dripped down along his arm, staining his white shirt. With hardly a wince, he continued to chant his evil words.

  “With both hands straight out in front of him, he squeezed his palm to elicit droplets of blood which fell onto the torso of the sleeping baby. The child stirred as Salazar took the dagger and licked it clean, preparing for his deadly strike. His eyes rolled back in his head as he tasted his own blood, and his mouth was thrust open as every tooth in his mouth became pointed and sharp. It was a ghastly sight.

  “Just then, the baby opened its eyes and looked at him, but the baby did not cry. Instead, a mist began to rise from the infant as it writhed to and fro, stretching and pulling at itself. The same thing was happening to several trees surrounding them. Salazar was confused as to what was happening. Surely this was not what he was expecting from his incantation!

  “In the twinkling of an eye, the infant transformed and Salazar found himself face to face with the tribe’s mystic leader. More surprisingly, the trees surrounding them became the mystic’s circle of disciples. Salazar was surrounded, and in the semi-state of euphoria brought on by his spell, he could not react to their attack.

  “The Indians moved fast. Hands were about Salazar’s body, holding his legs, arms and torso, pinning him fast to the ground. The mystic was quick about his business. He shoved a spear hard into Salazar’s abdomen, the force so strong that the spear exited Salazar’s back and held him to the spot. Unfortunately for Salazar, the strike was not enough to kill him, so he was still alive for what was to come.

  “The mystic moved in close and looked into Salazar’s eyes, which were now filled with fear. He spoke to Salazar. He told him that he would pay for the slaughter of the innocent children, for the blasphemous way he attempted to use their own power in such a dark manner, and for being a traitor to all creatures. If becoming a god meant so much to him, they would transform him themselves, but into a powerless deity, a harmless creature whose spirit would be damned to the void for all eternity.

  “Salazar was unable to move as the Indians worked their magic. Try as he might, he could not fend off the enchantment as he felt his soul ripped from his body. The disciples chanted, opening a portal to another world, and with that, Salazar’s soul was flung through the shimmering blue doorway. His soul descended silently into the river, and with it, the portal closed. The lifeless body of the man once called Salazar lay in the bloodied sand.

  “The Indians knew that the body must be discarded, otherwise the army would descend upon them in retaliation. They took Salazar’s body from that place, careful to destroy any trace of what had occurred, and headed away from the village into the deep desert where they threw his body into a hole and covered it with dirt.

  “Coronado issued search parties to find Salazar, who of course was never found, and eventually Coronado left Tiguex, bankrupt from his failure to locate the golden cities of Cibola. The handsome and brave conquistador called Francisco Salazar was all but forgotten.

  “For over four hundred years, he has plotted, growing in strength and skill, killing with every attempt at freedom, and believe me, he has killed many of us. Witch after witch! His sight remains set on the one that might possess the power to free him. Now I’m afraid he has found her, and that witch is you, Gabriella.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Frightened by Mancha’s tale, Gabriella’s mind raced. She shuddered at the memories of Salazar, holding her, telling her stories, kissing her cheeks and putting her to bed. She was just a child, a little girl, alone and afraid in the darkness of her bedroom. That time seemed so long ago, and the girl she used to be, that little girl saying silent prayers to chase the monsters away, she hardly remembered her.

  “Why me?” Gabriella asked. “Surely there are others . . . more powerful witches! I’m nobody. Why would Salazar look to me to set him free?”

  “There have been others, yes,” Magdalena said. “But those attempts—”

  “Failed?” Gabriella interrupted.

  “That’s an understatement,” Magdalena answered testily. “To be truthful, those that made t
he attempt to vanquish Salazar perished in the trying. Now an alignment has been realized, as if the universe itself conspires with the evil man. Here you are, a witch imbued with such gifts . . . and so easy to manipulate. Your naiveté and your power is a combination that suits his plans well. An undisciplined, foolish girl!”

  Mancha ignored their conversation and walked into the living room, distracted by a picture hanging on the wall. It was an old photo of a young Mirabella and Philip. She touched the glass with a reverent hand, circling the face of Mirabella with her long finger.

  “We loved her, too, you know. She was a great witch and could have been even greater had it not been for her self-imposed dedication to her father’s religion. One cannot realize their full potential when one has their right foot in one place and their left in another. We tried to talk her out of her silly notions but she’d have none of it. She was a stubborn woman, your grandmother.

  “But you will not make the same mistake—I shall see to that. And Magda is right. You lack experience. You are undisciplined. Gabriella. You will learn dedication to the craft and you will master it. We will show you the path but it will be a hard road to tread. It won’t be easy and it won’t come without a price. Nothing good ever does.”

  Gabriella stood up and joined Mancha at the familiar portrait. It hurt to look.

  “She never mentioned you,” Gabriella whispered. “Never. The only time I ever heard your name mentioned was in my uncle’s stories. How can I trust you? I feel as if you aren’t telling me the whole story.”

  Mancha placed an arm around Gabriella as she continued to study the photograph. “I’ll tell you how we became acquainted with your family, I’ll share with you everything, and I hope that in the telling you will see that our intent is to help, not harm.