The nun gasped out loud and fell back into the pew.
“Annie!” I heard her exclaim.
“Your Father Jacques was a priest in this parish from 1840 to 1859. He returned to France and died shortly thereafter,” Father Donovan told me as he took the belt I had tied around Annascha’s neck and handed it to me. “There’s a portrait of him in the third floor sitting room. Would you like to see it?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Take this beauty to the basement and meet me up there.” He grinned and patted the dog again.
“Yes, Father. I will be there shortly,” I told him and watched as he left the sanctuary.
I turned to look at the nun. Great tears ran down her face.
“Elizabeth?” I said softly. I noticed that while I held the cross in my hand that I could see Elizabeth as I remembered her from Salem, and I could also see her as I remembered her from Manhattan. But with the cross around my neck, I could not recognize the true soul. I saw only the borrowed face of the nun.
“Where on earth have you been?” she asked me as she ran to take me in her arms.
“I cannot say, but it certainly was not Earth,” I told her. “It felt as if I were in a transitional universe waiting to be born.”
“Do you know that Matthew has been dead for many years?”
“Murdered?”
“I cannot prove it.”
I studied her face as she went on to tell me that she had not returned to Brooklyn until the dimension of 1879. I noticed that her speech had become resigned and her eyes were sadder than I had ever seen them.
“What has happened to you, Elizabeth?”
“That wretched Ursula dropped me when she jumped from the window. I hit my head, but I was only stunned from it. Fortunately, she ran away and left me. Rachel came outside looking for me and calling my name, but I was too afraid to answer her. I snuck off in another direction. I got as far from Ursula as I could get.”
“And then you returned to Rachel?” I asked.
“No, I did not see Rachel again. I was too afraid that Ursula would find me if I went back home. I managed to walk in the woods behind our house until I reached the street, which wasn’t easy for I was only a child. I must have looked frightful and a bit pathetic. I hid in the doorway of a house on the other side of the trees, and before I knew it a nice young couple opened their door. They were visiting the people who lived in the house and felt sorry for me, sorry enough to take me downtown and buy me ice cream. I told them I had to escape from an abusive father and begged them to take me away.”
“And they did?”
“Yes. They took me to their home in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and raised me as their own. They believed they saved me from violence, which they did.”
“So you are Rachel’s little Elizabeth Sue all grown up?”
“No. The body of Elizabeth Sue passed away naturally. It was just before I planned to return to Brooklyn. Then I, too, drifted in what you refer to as a transitional universe.”
“How did you become a nun?” I asked.
“When I finally regained some semblance of consciousness, I found myself here at the church. I must have been willing myself to find Matthew, and my soul led me here. I was aware that there was an evil woman at the convent. From my opaque distance I could see her beat the children. I had to have someone’s flesh, so I forced her to flee her body. Oh, I think I have mastered it, Annie. I used her body to regain life and the evil in her soul fled with her. I thought I would find Matthew here in Brooklyn, just as I had left him. I knew he would be old when I found out the year, but I thought that I could care for him in his aged skin. I even fantasized that he would find a young evil body to take and I would leave the convent so that we could be together. But, then, I found out that Matthew had been dead for nearly twenty years. I was devastated and saw no reason to leave the convent after that. There is no other for me but Matthew; why not, then, serve God?”
“How did Jeanne kill him and get away with it?” I asked.
“They say he died of natural causes in his sleep,” she told me. “But I know she poisoned him. She must have. She has married four times since and each of them has died in their sleep. Oh, except for one who accidentally fell in front of a train.”
“Have you met his twins?”
“No, I only know of them, and I hear that they are horrid. They are both quite notorious. I do not believe that Matthew is their father. I simply do not.”
“Why do you say that?” I asked.
“Well, for one, they were born only seven months after his marriage to Jeanne.”
I took her hand in mine. “Unfortunately, they may still be his children,” I said. “We cannot prove otherwise by that.”
“You have taken on very fine flesh this time, Annie.” She winked at me.
“Thank you, Sister.” I grinned.
“Behind this habit, Sister Elizabeth is quite pretty. Her real name was Angelina Navarro and she was born right across the street from this church some forty years ago. I do not know how she became so mean, but now she is kind, and I am not sorry for it. Will God forgive me for robbing her life, I wonder?”
“God does not rationalize our actions,” I said.
“Perhaps not.”
“What about Meredith Mae?” I asked. “How did Ursula get away with her murder?”
“I do not think Ursula murdered Meredith Mae.”
“What?” I said in the most shocked manner. I could not believe I had heard her correctly.
“I spoke to Ursula many years after she took over Meredith Mae’s identity. It was right after I took Angelina’s flesh in 1879.”
“I don’t understand. My God, why didn’t you do something?”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why not, Elizabeth?”
“Matthew had been murdered so many years by then. Silas was dead by that time, so there was no one to claim that Ursula was not really the real Meredith Mae. How would a twenty-three-year-old sister prove the identity of a fifty-year old woman? Besides, I felt it was not wise to reveal the truth.”
“Not wise?”
“Look, perhaps I should have gone right to the authorities and told them to investigate Ursula, yet somehow, I felt that would have been a mistake and it was best that I tell no one what I knew.”
“You were still afraid of Ursula?”
“No. It was not because I was afraid, but because I had the feeling I might harm Meredith Mae if I exposed Ursula as an imposter. So even though I knew she was passing herself off as my dead husband’s daughter, I kept my mouth shut. Ursula may have taken her name and her money, but she did not kill her. I was certain of that. I still am.”
“Are you suggesting then that it might have been some plot between them?”
“I think it is quite possible.”
I thought that it was completely preposterous to imagine that Ursula underwent an epiphany of some sort and had avoided killing off my granddaughter when so much money was involved, but I listened to Elizabeth politely, assuming, of course, that a life serving God had blinded her to the evils of others.
“I think Ursula Boussidan protected Meredith Mae. I think she kept her from Jeanne Elemont’s evil reach,” she said.
“You think, then, that Meredith Mae is alive somewhere, perhaps in another dimension?”
“I do.”
“Oh, please.” I laughed aloud. “You expect me to believe that Ursula has been protecting Meredith Mae all these years?”
I found myself unable to control my disdain for this theory, for even though I wanted my granddaughter to be alive, I could not conceive it, not with the evil Ursula as her only chance of survival.
“Listen to me, Annie, Ursula came to the church and spoke to me. Of course, she saw me as Sister Angelina. It was not so long ago. I recognized her immediately, and of course, my first impulse was to run away because she had frightened me so much as a child. But she stopped me with the sadness of her call, and I listen
ed to my heart. I apprehensively sat with her and I heard her anguish. She spoke to me for many hours. She clutched my hand and wept many a tear. I never saw her again. Though I hear she comes to the church and sits in the farthest pew. I know she has a companion, but I have never seen her either. I barely leave the convent and always sit in the first row for services.”
“A confession? Why not speak to a priest,” I asked and crossed my arms over my chest.
“It was not a confession. It was more like a desperate woman purging herself, begging for redemption, trying to find God again.”
“Yes, Father Donovan also told me she comes to church. What did she say when she spoke to you?”
“She told me she was a sinner, but she wondered if she had redeemed herself by saving someone she loves.”
“Really?” I turned to look at Elizabeth. I still found her theory a bit far-fetched, but she seemed to earnestly believe it.
“I think Ursula was supposed to set herself back up in Meredith Mae’s will before she could marry Callen Hall and then murder her right after the will was rewritten. But I do not believe she was able to go through with it.”
“Then what happened to my granddaughter? Where is she?”
“I do not know.”
I thought about the Jeanne Elemont I had known and wondered, if Elizabeth’s theory was correct, why the evil Jeanne had not killed Ursula for betraying her. But before I could ask the question, Elizabeth gave me the answer.
“I am sure Jeanne Elemont really believes that Meredith Mae is quite dead. I think Ursula tricked her. I do not know where Meredith Mae is, but I do not believe she was murdered.”
“I hope you are right.” I put my arms around Elizabeth. “But I do not believe it is possible. How could Ursula have gotten away with fooling Jeanne Elemont? Urbain is ubiquitous. He would know the truth.”
“I am not sure.” She sighed.
“Unless of course the great Urbain is not conscious.”
“What do you mean?”
“I am not entirely clear. It is just a feeling I have.”
“What are we going to do to reunite our family?” she asked. “It must be possible somehow.”
“Well, first, we are going to look at the portrait of the notorious ‘Father Jacques,’ and then we are going to perform a little witchcraft.”
Elizabeth stood up and stared at me.
“What is it, Elizabeth?” I asked.
“I have been a Catholic nun for over seventeen years. I cannot perform witchcraft!” she uttered in a hoarse whisper.
I walked to the altar and stood before her.
“Look about you, Elizabeth. Look well at this church. Look at Jesus on his cross and the Virgin Mary at his side. Ask yourself why millions of souls are led here, led for centuries to worship the Virgin and her son. How do they know to do that? Why do they do that? How can a man and a woman who lived over two thousand years ago still perform miracles and heal the afflicted? Why is it that the name of Jesus is still on the lips of the dying and in the praise of the living? Let me ask you this, how do the lost get found in his name, and why is it that his compassion is revealed in an act of mercy to this day? Why are the dying still led to his arms? Why do our souls end in his promise and begin with his blessing? Elizabeth, we celebrate him still. We speak to him daily. His death still makes us weep, and his birth has brought us joy. What is this, Elizabeth, if not what we as witches know? My God, Jesus has no distance in a universe that has no time but his. Jesus is here, as we are here, and he lives behind each of us, and he lives before all of us. Is this magic, Elizabeth? Magic? Or is this Almighty God? Isn’t this God the eternal blessing, the despair and the hope, the magic and the miracle of being a substance born to thought and to heart and to language, and to the confounding soul of its own moment? Where is this line between witchcraft and God, Elizabeth, between magic and miracles?”
She held her rosary in her hands and stared at the Virgin Mary.
“Hail Mary full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus,” she prayed.
I waited patiently and watched her.
Finally, she sighed deeply.
“I am with you,” she said. “I am always with you, Annie. What ceremony do you speak of?”
“An exorcism,” I said. “This form of Julian Rouvrey,” I told her as I slipped the cross back around my neck, “gives me knowledge that I did not previously have. Just pray I have the power, as well, to use it.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Elizabeth and I stood transfixed before the portrait of Father Jacques. He wore brown bangs and his skin was pockmarked. His eyes drooped like a spaniels and he registered nothing but kindness.
“Do you remember him?” Father Donovan asked me.
“No. This is not the Father Jacques I remember.”
“Hmmm. That’s curious,” he said. “Perhaps you have confused a name with a face?”
“Perhaps.”
“Well, I have some lessons to attend to. Do you teach? We could always use a good teacher at the boys’ school?”
“Oh, there is a school here?” I asked.
The Father smiled proudly.
“Yes, St. Joseph’s School for Boys. We have mostly private students but we also take in several children from Holy Name Orphanage,” he told me.
“Father, have any of the boys disappeared from the school recently?” I asked.
“No, not from St. Joseph’s, but the orphanage has had some problems. Several boys ran away. They haven’t been found yet.”
I looked at Elizabeth, who eyed me curiously.
“Why do you ask? Have you spied them somewhere?”
“No, no Father,” I told him quickly. “I heard something about that on my walk and wanted to be sure to keep my eyes open.”
“Yes, yes. We should all do that. Well, tomorrow I would like to talk to you about leading Sunday’s mass. What do you say?”
I smiled and nodded.
“Good. I shall look forward to that. Well, good afternoon, my children.”
“I will see you at dinner, Father,” Elizabeth said.
“Yes, Sister. Hash tonight, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Father,” Elizabeth said.
“Well, perhaps I will skip dinner. I have a lot of work. God bless you.”
He patted my shoulder as he retreated down the stairs.
I quickly turned to Elizabeth.
“We don’t have a lot of time and so we must make haste. Come to my room,” I told her and took her arm.
“Father, that is most unusual,” she said as she followed me swiftly down the stairs.
* * * *
I shut the door behind us as Elizabeth sat on the edge of my bed.
“That was not Father Jacques,” I said. “He looked more like the priest that Meredith Mae always said he was than the bastard I knew him to be.”
“He must have stolen the poor man’s flesh,” she whispered.
“Do you think it’s possible that Meredith Mae did not see the same Father Jacques as I did?”
“How could that be? She has the vision.”
“That is so, but look what happens when I take this cross from my neck.”
Elizabeth watched as I removed it and smiled.
“Is it possible he had such a cross?” I asked.
“But you both saw him at the same time, did you not?”
I thought for a moment and realized that every time Meredith Mae and I were in the presence of Father Jacques, I was in spirit form and not in flesh.
“I think it is possible. When I am in spirit form I do not see flesh as I see it now. I could have easily been tricked. Meredith Mae might have only seen the real Father Jacques while the demon hid behind the puppy dog eyes of that poor man. Perhaps he has a cross like Julian’s, or perhaps he simply has the power to will himself to be seen however he chooses to be seen.”
“Why did you ask if any of the boys were missing?”
>
I took the chair from across the room and sat facing her.
“I have had some disturbing news from Luther’s houseman, Calvin.”
“Luther? Jeanne Elemont’s son?”
I nodded.
“What news?”
I gripped the sides of the chair and looked away.
“He has stolen children from the street. He has stolen them from orphanages, from wherever he can get them.”
“What? Why?” She leaned over and tried to find my eyes.
“Calvin believes that he offers them to the devil in some horrid Mass that he performs at our old house. He has built a Cathedral there, or so he calls it such.”
“Offers them to the devil? What do you mean?”
She glared at me but I said nothing. I could not find the words to tell her more.
“What do you mean?” she repeated. Then she put her hands to her heart. “Mother of God, he harms them so horribly?”
“Yes,” I said quietly.
“Good God.” She sighed.
“We will avenge the bastard.”
“How?”
“I am not sure yet. We have a lot to do and no time to do it in. What is the hour?”
“Well, it must be nearly three. Father Donovan always retreats to his office at three.”
“What do you know about the girl twin, Gillian, is it?”
“She has quite a reputation.” She smirked.
“How so?”
“Well, she and the boy squander their money. They had to mortgage their house to the bank. I hear the mother does not bail them out either, and they will both most likely be broke before they’re forty. The girl has a thing for the theatre, it seems. She fancies herself an actress. She also fancies pretty men and buys as many of them that will have her. She prefers very young men and there are always several of them at one time, never anyone in particular. She grooms them and endows them with enormous gifts, clothes, and fancy rooms. She makes gentlemen of them, but she tires of them easily. After setting many of them up in a glorious life style, she then cuts them off quite drastically without a dime. It is cruel, really, and many of these poor boys wind up at our doorstep begging for a place to sleep. The worst of it is that she blacklists these poor actors with producers by refusing to put her money into a show they might be cast in, and she succeeds in ruining many fine careers. She does it simply to be cruel, I think. She has probably manipulated the fate of every show on Broadway with her threats. I have heard several people have tried to have her killed for using her own money to control and destroy so many people. Fortunately, she herself has stopped performing because of her dreadful reviews.”
Annabel Horton, Lost Witch of Salem Page 36