Annabel Horton, Lost Witch of Salem

by Vera Jane Cook

  “Get up, you insidious wretch and mind your place.” She then tossed the girl out of the chair and onto the floor at my feet. “Are you out of your mind, Father?” she screamed. “To allow a slave girl such privilege?”

  Meredith Mae ran to Emie and helped her up. “Emie is not a slave. This is Brooklyn, Catherine. There have not been slaves in Brooklyn since 1824.”

  “Are you all mad? She sits openly in your parlor? And what is this, a mark on the floor? How curiously satanic.” Catherine knelt by the chalk mark and looked strangely at the way the chair was placed in the center. “I thought it was Mother that could trace her ancestry to the witches of Salem.”

  “What is your purpose here?” I asked her.

  “You know full well what it is.” She glared at me.

  “Speak your mind.”

  I leaned back in my chair and raised my arm straight out with my palm extended at an acute angle. I realized it had been a natural masculine gesture, as if I were a king bestowing a gift upon my subject. I had seen many men make such a gesture and it now came quite naturally to me.

  She glared hatefully at Meredith Mae.

  “Get them out of here,” she ordered me.

  “I certainly shall not. Say what you will before them,” I said.

  She seemed to shake with rage, her face so violently red in color that it appeared in my haze as a humorous contrast to the milky white color around her eyes. I found that I laughed aloud, though I had not intended to do so. I realized I appeared as arrogant as the original inhabitant of this ungainly flesh.

  Catherine walked close to my chair. I thought for an instant she might strike me. Instead, she leaned in as if she might kiss my very mouth and grinned with such loathsome maliciousness it caused my heart to pound loudly.

  “This intimacy with your slave does not surprise me, Father.” She leered at me. “But Meredith Mae? I will not speak before her. Send her from the room.”

  I rose from my chair and commanded her to treat her father with more respect. “I take no orders from you, Catherine.”

  “Oh yes you do.” She came and stood so close to me that I could barely breathe. “I will call the authorities in a heartbeat,” she whispered. “The child will tell all. The child will confess your perversion.”

  Something in her threat alarmed me and I looked to where Meredith Mae and Emie sat together, straining to hear what she had said to me. I could tell that they had not heard a word.

  I stared at Catherine and thought quickly. Of course, I knew what she was talking about; in my heart I knew, though my mind rejected it. Her words had left me with an uneasy feeling of disgust. I looked over the top of her head and met Meredith Mae’s eyes. “Leave us,” I said to both of them.

  * * * *

  Once Catherine and I were alone in the room I expected her to explain the entire meaning of her threat, but she did no such thing. We were simply standing there staring at each other, waiting for the other one to speak, when suddenly her left hand went to her hip and the finger of her right hand shot up into my face like a weapon.

  “Not one dime leaves the estate. Do you hear me, Father? Not one dime does Meredith Mae get or your little perversion becomes public knowledge. Do you hear me?”

  I did not know what to say. I stood there looking at her monstrous scowl until I had to sit. I had to think. She followed me to the couch and stood before me.

  “Why would you do this? Why return the money to that woman when you worked so hard to win it? We have won. It was a brilliant, brilliant plan. Not to mention, a dangerous one. What in God’s name are you doing, Father? Have you gone as mad as Mother?”

  I continued to stare at her in disbelief. “Maebelle?” I whispered. I could not think fast enough. I had been so preoccupied with everything that I had not even wondered of Maebelle. “What has become of her?” I asked.

  Catherine stared at me quite similarly to the way in which Louis had looked at me. Then she laughed. She laughed with such jocundity that she fell into a chair.

  “What is so funny?”

  “The opium has dulled your senses, Father.”

  “Yes, yes. I do not remember things,” I chided quickly. “Where is Maebelle? I can’t recall. The drug affects me so.”

  But I was not to learn of poor Maebelle’s fate so quickly. Catherine had composed herself and continued to stare at me.

  “Listen you old fool,” she whispered hatefully. “If you do not return to Louis’s office this morning and reverse your requests, I will destroy you. Do you understand, Father?”

  We sat for a minute sitting across the room from one another, our gazes meeting in confrontation, each waiting for the other to speak once more.

  “Well?” she finally commanded of me.

  “I will consider your request,” I said quietly. I knew of nothing else I could say until I learned more about Malcolm’s indiscretions. I had to know if she could, in fact, blackmail me.

  Catherine slowly lifted herself from the chair, for she had become even more portly than I remembered her.

  “I trust you will make the right decision,” she said as she turned at the door to face me. “The money will remain in the estate of Malcolm Northrup, as it was originally set up between us—you and I, and Louis. Do you remember, Father?”

  “Remind me, daughter.” I said, as gently as I could muster, for I wanted terribly to strike her down.

  “The money belongs to us, to me and to you. An even split, and of course, Louis’s share. See how generous I am? But nothing is to go to Meredith Mae. Absolutely nothing.”

  “And what of Jed?” I laughed, for I remembered Malcolm’s son and how he doted upon him. “And what of Beth Ann?”

  “Jed?” she exclaimed incredulously. “Jed? Oh, Father you really have gone mad. What does a priest want with money but to give it to the poor?”

  “Oh yes, yes of course,” I said quickly as she turned to go.

  “Beth Ann is to have none of it?” I wondered how Catherine had ever gained so much control over her father.

  “She is too much of an idiot to share this fortune. And besides, you have favored her always, haven’t you? You owe me at least this.”

  She looked at me with such hate that I felt inclined to put my arms around her and comfort whatever grief the bastard Malcolm had bestowed upon her. Instead, I kissed her cheek.

  “An odd gesture Father,” she whispered in my ear. “And much too late.”

  I followed her outside and watched as she lifted herself into the waiting hansom and beckoned the driver to leave. I looked after the carriage. I had a very strange sensation within the body I now inhabited. I was craving something that caused me shame. Images flashed across my brain, so quickly at first that I could not distinguish what they were, and then they slowed until they moved before my eyes, as if I were a voyeur peering from behind a wall. I looked on in horror as I saw the child Rachel appearing in the vision. The child, Rachel, disrobed and weeping, and there I was, locked in Malcolm’s body with some awful compulsion to force the girl to her knees and brace myself behind her naked flesh.

  “No!” I screamed from the depths of my soul and shook my arms before me as if I might wipe the awful image from my mind. “No!” I screamed again. Emie and Meredith Mae ran outside and held me. I shook in their arms. The devil’s laughter resounded against my brain and I saw the sky as it turned black and deep, and dark clouds passed swiftly overhead. He was there. I was sure he was there searing into my brain. I fell to my knees.

  “Oh God!” I screamed. “Where are you?”

  “Here,” spoke the devil. “Here is your God.”

  “The devil’s slime, Urbain. You are the devil’s slime.”

  I rose to my feet and held my hands out in the direction of the devil’s malignant presence. Emie and Meredith Mae looked frantically about for they clearly did not hear him as I did.

  “Come and be still, Mommy.” I heard Emie whisper as she led me back inside the house and into the parlor. I foll
owed like a helpless lamb.

  “Be calm, Grandmamma,” Meredith Mae said tenderly as she sat me on the couch and rested my feet on a small footstool.

  “The bastard is a deviant,” I said.

  “What do you mean?” they asked in unison.

  “He has violated the child. He has tainted the earth. I saw the image of it in his wretched mind. Catherine has threatened to expose this perversion.”

  “The child, Rachel?” Emie asked me. “I have long suspected it.”

  “Why did you not prevent it?” I cried, enraged, as I stood and hit my fist against the flat of my hand.

  “Malcolm’s father, Ebenezer, they go off together.” Emie took my arms and turned me to face her. “I could not be sure. I could not follow them, and I could never be alone with the child to ask.”

  “Ebenezer is still living?” I was aghast. “The old man must be nearing one hundred years.”

  Emie nodded. “He is quite old. But spry enough.”

  I sat back in the couch and put my head in my hands. I knew I had to find a way to bring my son and Philippe home. I needed them. I longed to rid myself of Malcolm’s body, his disgusting desires. I thought of Ursula and how fine it would be to inhabit one so beautiful. However, the very thought gave me a chill.

  “What should we do, Grandmamma?” Meredith Mae asked.

  “The only thing we can do, and let Malcolm go to the devil. We shall keep the money. It is ours. I will take care of the vermin, Ebenezer.”

  “You will be jailed if Catherine exposes Malcolm and the child validates the story. You may be jailed forever and unable to die, to pass to another dimension.”

  Emie sat on my other side and took my hands in hers.

  “Unfortunately, we do not have the time to further meditate and find Matthew and Philippe. I am going to Catherine’s and I will tell her that I refuse to give her any part of the estate, except for the two percent promised, and she can do what she chooses. We must assure that the money is returned to us and then we will act quickly to recover Philippe and Matthew. We will all leave this century behind us.”

  “You can’t take it with you, Grandmamma.” Meredith Mae smiled.

  I returned her smile. “Oh yes, we can. We will find a way to move the money until it shows up in the right dimension. In the meanwhile, let Catherine expose the bastard, Malcolm. We will kill him off before he is ever jailed and I shall choose another victim, a lovely victim. How unfortunate that Malcolm will escape the public humiliation he so rightfully deserves.”

  “But how will you die?” Meredith Mae asked me quietly.

  “I shall fall before a bullet; lose my breath in a river. Ha, perhaps find myself at the end of a sword. After my confrontation with the cat, I fear nothing.”

  I started toward the door and touched the hair that had appeared on my skin overnight. I could actually feel the bristle against my thumb and forefinger as I brought them down my cheeks to rest against my chin.

  “Catherine owes me some answers. An innocent man has been jailed and we must help him if we can. I owe William that.” I turned to Emie. “Why didn’t you tell me about the murder?”

  “I started to, but then thought it best to wait until after you had taken a body. There was so much for us to catch up on. Besides, William was dead and unable to help us. I thought it inconsequential how he died.”

  “Inconsequential? You did not think it suspicious?” I questioned.

  “What could we do once the trial was over? My only intention was to wait for you and the others to return. I never knew Silas and thought perhaps it was possible he had killed his father,” Emie said.

  “Silas has a reputation for a short temper,” Meredith Mae added. “He seems nice enough, but he was once involved in an argument over a carriage accident and hit the man who accused him of recklessness.”

  “Well, that does not make him capable of murdering his own father. What disagreement could have driven him to such means?”

  I wondered if I would ever be able to prove that it was likely Malcolm, or even Boussidan, who had murdered William.

  “Did you know it was Catherine that swore she witnessed Silas at William’s office the afternoon he was shot?” I said as I turned to them.

  “Yes, and I also know she is in love with Louis and would do anything he tells her,” Emie said.

  “I think they were all involved in a monstrous, deadly plan to steal the estate,” I said as I ran my hands again over the short stubble.

  “Perhaps that is why none of them would identify me,” my granddaughter said.

  “What of Jed? He did not remember you as well?” I asked her.

  “Jed is abroad. He is a priest in France at a small country church,” she said.

  “Why France?” I asked.

  Meredith Mae shook her head and seemed not to know. I found it an odd coincidence and wondered if his path had crossed the Boussidan’s in this quaint country church.

  I could feel my body begging for sleep, but I knew I had to find my answers before Malcolm was found in a ditch and the estate wound up entirely in the hands of Louis Boussidan. I instinctively knew that Catherine was utterly dispensable in this deadly plan, and I sensed that I did not have much time.

  “Shave me quickly,” I said to Emie. “And then show me the way to Catherine’s.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Catherine was happy to see me at first. She was confident that I had already been to Louis’s office and had told him not to bother with the transfers. She was almost radiant as she twirled around the room and smiled at me from pasty thin lips.

  “Meredith Mae will make a lovely nun. I’m sure that crazy Father Jacques will help the wretched and penniless creature as she struggles with the torments of poverty.” She laughed.

  “I have no intention of forcing Meredith Mae from her house. It is I that should be begging Father Jacque for his generosity,” I said seriously.

  She sat me on a lavender chaise that stretched before a Persian rug with the most unusual colors I had ever seen. The rug looked as if it had been drained of its life and nothing remained behind but whatever was left of the faint hue of bile.

  “Why, Father, your kindness is a new weakness. The opium has mellowed you so completely that I would swear you are a counterfeit, certainly not the father I know.”

  She peered at me so intently that her eyes disappeared behind her flesh and all that I could focus on was the puffiness of her cheeks.

  “Well, so be it. Let the wretched girl have the house as long as I have my share of the money; you can both go to hell.” She sat opposite me on some strange-looking chair that had neither legs nor arms.

  “Do you have a cat?” I asked her.

  I had heard a soft cry, as if a cat was calling for milk.

  She threw back her head and laughed with such gaiety that a strand of hair fell from her head and dangled on her forehead like a long thumb.

  “Oh, but you are amusing, Father.”

  It was at that point that I heard the knocks, several knocks followed by the cries. I listened intently while Catherine rang for the servant.

  “It is precisely the hour I have my morning coffee. Will you join me?” She seemed to twirl and spin around as if someone had wound her.

  “I am sure that Louis was quite pleased that you came to your senses. I wish to hear all about it. I will not see him until noon.”

  I stared at her and said nothing. It was clear to me that she had already spent a great deal of my granddaughter’s money on the most distasteful objects I had ever seen. Over the mantle was a huge mirror with two enormous serpents carved into the frame. On the floor, near the door to the library, she had placed a statue of indiscriminate interpretation and various paintings adorned the wall, appearing to me as visions in a nightmare.

  “I see you did not inherit my taste.” I smiled.

  “Oh, I picked none of this,” she told me. “You know that it was Louis who refurbished my home. They are perhaps too sophistica
ted for you, Father?”

  I could see in her eyes as she spoke his name that she was completely seduced by Louis Boussidan. I suspected by now that she and Malcolm had hired Boussidan to swindle Meredith Mae by offering him a share of the money, but I did not know who had actually killed poor William. I was not yet sure how Ursula was involved either.

  “Do you know Ursula?” I asked her.

  I noticed that a blush came to her cheeks.

  “Yes. In a way,” she said softly.

  I stared at her as the servant girl came and set the tray upon the table. I listened as the knocking continued and the cries became louder. I stood and went to the foot of the stairs. I could hear walking above, restless walking and crying, as if someone were in great pain.

  “Who is up there?”

  Catherine stared at me as if I were stark raving mad.

  “Who is up there?” I shouted to the servant. The girl shook as I took her arm. She began to cry.

  “You’re hurting me, sir,” she said.

  “Who is up there?”

  The girl looked at Catherine, who continued to stare at me in disbelief. Finally, she went to the girl and took her from my grasp.

  “It’s all right, Eliza; let him go see for himself. His memory fails him.”

  I ran up the stairs until I stood on the landing. For several seconds I heard nothing. I looked in the rooms, behind the open doors, and I saw nothing. Suddenly, there was a scream, followed by the cries and the knocking on the floor. I found the stairs that led directly to the attic and stood behind a latched door. The cries within were haunting. I pulled on the latch and could not open it.

  “Who is there?” I called. “Who is there?”

  I heard only crying, and it seemed as if someone had fallen in front of the door and was scratching on the other side.

  I ran to the landing and called down. “Get me the key.” I ordered Catherine, who looked up at me with the most peculiar grin. “I order you to get me the key,” I repeated and waited until she sent the servant girl for it.