The church stood high on a hill, way above the village, its walls barely visible from the road below, and the climb was fierce. The dog ran ahead. My heart beat loudly in my chest as I walked, and when I finally reached the cathedral door, my mouth was parched and dry from the summer sun.
I entered through a long, dark hall, and the nuns peered at me from behind their habits, their faces strangely contorted. Like the imbeciles below, they sought my ring, my hand, and the hem of my gown as I passed them. I stood inside the church and stared. The shepherd sat at my side and followed my gaze.
It was an enormous cathedral, lit by fire lanterns and a multitude of candles. I was startled by the smells, intense and overwhelming. The wine from the altar had the scent of vinegar, the wood smelled like rain, and the glass, like fire.
“Father Julian! Welcome back,” someone called to me as I stood in the cold stone church amidst the flames of torches. I could not see his face well in the shadows, but I knew he wore a priest’s gown and his step was quick. I stood very still and waited for his approach.
“Father Julian,” he called again, and I could see that he had raised his arm to me.
I smiled as if I knew him. I could hear his feet on the floor as he finally reached me. There, in the semidarkness, with shadows of firelight shielding his face, I sought his eyes.
“Father Julian,” he said, more quietly this time, but with an excited intensity.
Oh my God. I could not believe what I beheld! I sighed so deeply that I might have stumbled. Yes, as I remember, I did stumble. His smile was so affable. His eyes were so blue I might have wept. His cheeks had a slight energetic blush from his breathless desire to get to my side. It could not be, and yet, it was.
“Urbain?” I whispered.
He fell to his knees and kissed the hem of my robe as the nuns had done. Then, so suddenly, my hand felt the lips, so soft and full of sweetness against Julian Rouvrey’s flesh.
“I have so wanted to speak with you. You have been gone so long. Where have you been, Father?”
“I am sorry. I had to prolong my journey,” I told him, but he seemed not to hear and continued.
“My situation is worse now.”
He remained on his knees.
“I need your blessing, Father.”
He seemed to be weeping. He appeared so young, so very young, and there was earnestness to him such that I had not seen. Surely this boy cannot be the devil’s apostle.
“Please, Father. I am so distraught.”
I made the sign of the cross on his brow. It was a natural instinct that I seemed unable to control.
In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“Where can we talk?”
“Here, follow me,” he said as he led me up a stairway and into a small back room, dank with the odor of urine. The dog stayed at my side as I entered. I felt ill from the smell, and I found myself opening the window that looked out over a small graveyard, which was overgrown with hungry weeds that crept around the tired stones like spider legs.
“They do not believe me,” he told me as he knelt at my feet once again.
“Is it true then?” I asked him, knowing of course, to what he referred. “Have you ever violated them?”
“No. It is they who try to violate me. I pray for their souls every night. It is not I. It is someone else…something else that offends them.”
“What do they say you do?” I asked as I stared at the confusion in his eyes.
“They say that I harm them. They say that I rape them. I cannot do that. I love them and would not, could not, Father. I swear,” he said, so excited now by his fear that his voice rose to a shout and his face was pinched by grief.
I clutched the cross around my neck and stared at him. I gasped out loud and fell to my knees as well.
“What is it, Father?”
“You are not the devil,” I whispered.
He moved close to me and held my head.
“They say that I am. The nuns have proclaimed it. But I am not the devil, Father. If you know that, you are the only one that does.”
“Claudette Moreau. Bring me to her quickly,” I commanded. “We will leave the dog here, in this room for now.”
“It was Claudette that turned me in.”
There was so much sorrow in his voice that I reached for him in a gesture of comfort.
“Why?” I questioned and he continued in the same high pitch.
“I do not know why the nuns blame me. It is they that call to me at night and clutch my robe. It is they that tear at my skin. They press against my lips. Good God,” he cried.
“Take me to Claudette!” I demanded.
* * * *
She was beautiful. Her hair was hidden by the habit she wore but I could see the dark strands. She looked so much like Ann Peckham and Rachel that I knew immediately that we were of the same blood. Her eyes were so clear and the color so deeply brown, as Rachel’s had been. As I entered, she ran to the boy and called his name. Urbain held her in his arms. I could see his tears from where I stood.
I was frightened and terribly confused. I noticed the tenderness between them. I stared at the cold stone floor for a long time before she finally left his side and approached me. I was repulsed by the odor she emitted, though the beauty of her face kept calling my eyes to hers.
“Julian, I forbid you!”
She began to strike me. She hit me all over my body. I tried to shield myself and grabbed her arms. It took both Urbain and myself to force her hands down.
“Why am I being led to you?” I cried out in desperation.
“I do not want your love,” she screamed at me.
I put my hands to my forehead and called out to God.
“What do you want me to do, Father?”
I looked at the innocent priest and this poor nun. I could smell her unwashed body and watched, in horror, as she reached out to strike me again.
“Claudette!” Urbain called. “Get back, for God’s sake.”
“Please,” she begged. “Please, leave him for me.”
“Get me out of here,” I commanded.
“Coward!” she spat at me.
“What trick is this? You have nothing to tell me, do you? You have no answers.”
“Oh, but I do,” she said as she leaned into me and her lips touched my ear. I tried not to breathe in the odor she carried like some dark muddy puddle of cow’s dung.
“Be quick then,” I said and held her back from me at arm’s length.
She spoke very low, and clearly did not want the boy to hear. She spoke to me in English and that surprised me.
“Help Urbain, Julian. Only you can save him. Satan calls him now,” she cried. “Do not let the evil one swallow his soul. I will give you anything if you save him. I will give you anything I can. He is commanded to violate the others by the devil you called forth. But he has come to love me, and I have come to love him. It was never rape, as it was with you. Do not rob me of this love.”
“Rape? Ah!” The thought repulsed me. “What can I do?”
“Work your magic, Julian. Please. Do not sacrifice him.”
I stuttered and could not find a thing to say. She became restless and grabbed my arm.
“Listen,” she continued in English. “It was I who turned him in to Cardinal Richelieu.”
“I know.”
“I did it to save his soul. I thought they would surely call the priests for an exorcism but that is too simple for these idiots. Now they will crush him to death. God forgive me. Please, Julian. Help him. He is not one of us.”
“I will do everything I can,” I whispered.
“May God bless you then,” she said as she put her head to my shoulder. “If you mean it, I will love you for it. Annascha, Julian.”
“What?” I asked, dumbfounded that she would refer to the dog I had left behind in the tiny room.
She stared at me and took my face in her hands
. She studied every inch of my features. She knew that I did not understand.
“My God.” She sighed so deeply she appeared almost to faint. Urbain ran to her side.
“I see borrowed flesh. I should have looked more closely. He has sent another to alter Urbain’s destiny. That is not good. Fate must be against me now.”
I looked away. She took my hands and turned me back to her.
“Who are you?”
“I am sent by Julian,” I whispered while Urbain eyed us curiously.
“He is too much of a coward to face me then?”
“Why has Julian sent me to you?”
“To save his soul, I suppose.”
“What do you mean?”
“Julian loved me. It was he that stole into my room and raped me. It is his child I carry, not Urbain’s.”
“What?” I exclaimed as my eyes went to her stomach. I could see the faint swell.
“It was Julian that brought the devil here by his sin against God. The devil went mad and became obsessed with Urbain. He possesses the most innocent one. Julian is damned.”
“And do you know the fate of this poor boy?” I asked.
“No.”
“So, Julian is given a chance to save his soul and Urbain’s?”
“I do not know,” she cried.
“I feel so lost.” I looked at Urbain as I said it. His face was turned away from mine and he clutched the cross he wore.
“Annascha is a term of farewell among witches,” Claudette whispered. “God’s light is pure white, and we begin and end with it. ‘Annascha’ was what God called to us when we were let out of this light to live in the divine moment. And so, it is used to say farewell. Find God in your heart and spare my beloved. There has been nothing to need or love, but Urbain. Julian dishonored me. He has not. I chose Urbain. I wanted him. It is his face I see in my dreams. I must love something. I must love someone. Whoever you are, do not break my heart.”
“Why not love Julian then?” I found myself saying.
She spat at me. “There is nothing I can do? Your love for me will kill him, you bastard.”
I kissed her out of some overwhelming desire to force her will.
“No!” she screamed as she pushed me off her.
“Annascha, Claudette,” I said. “I am sorry.”
I knew at that moment that she hated me, and yet, I could not prevent it. I did not understand what she expected of me and stood helplessly before her. Her eyes bore into my soul, and for a moment, I thought she had caused me to faint. I opened my mouth to reassure her again, and not a sound came out. She turned away and put her head to the wall.
“Take me away!” I said to Urbain in French.
As he led me out of the room he took my hand in his and held it as if I were his father. I could feel his terror as he clutched it.
“They are going to kill the nuns, as well, you know. They will kill us all—me included if you do not stop them.”
“I? What can I do?” I asked.
“Tell Cardinal Richelieu it is a mistake. I have done nothing but serve God. I do love Claudette. For God sake, I am a man, Julian. It happened between us, something I could not control, something I could not help, nor want to help. Is this my punishment? Help me if you can. My trial is tomorrow. You have power here, Julian. They will listen to you. Claudette and I will leave this place forever. England will be good. We’ll go to England.”
“How did this all come about?”
“The nuns are pregnant. One child has already been born.”
“What?”
“The mother is deformed and awful, but she had a beautiful baby.”
“Where is the child?”
“She was taken to Paris and given away. The mother was exorcised.”
“And there are others still pregnant?”
“Several others, all nuns. They will all be killed to prevent any seed of Lucifer to prevail. He rapes them and tells them to damn me with his sin.”
“Who rapes them?”
“Lucifer.”
I sat back and stared at him.
“Then take me to Lucifer,” I said.
“Well, I’m not sure that I can.”
“You must take me, Urbain, for the benefit of your soul and mine.”
“And if I do. Please. Tell no one?”
“I swear, Urbain. I swear, I will tell no one.”
* * * *
We found the demon in the darkest dungeon of the Huguenot St. Pierre-du-March Church. He wore a cloak so cumbersome that I could not see his face. His eyes were fierce and the color so indiscriminate, but they glared out at me like stars of amber light. His height was impressive, and yet, he seemed not to fill the very cloak he wore. I saw books everywhere I looked, some with old and torn covers, and some with no covers at all. Flame torches lit the dark and threw shadows on the stone, shadows that I could not justify.
The boy shook as we entered. I held his hand tightly. Julian’s cross burned against my chest, and I cried out in pain. The demon turned from his altar when he heard me and laughed so loudly that I clutched my ears. Urbain knelt before the bastard and wept profusely.
“Get up, you idiot,” the demon said as he walked over the boy and came to me. “What the hell do you want, Julian?”
“Leave the boy alone,” I said.
“Leave the boy alone?” he bellowed. “He is not a boy. Why, he is forty-four years old and still such a fine specimen. I can find none greater. How then can I leave him alone? He has such a fine organ with which to satisfy those whores.”
His voice had a reverberating echo. As I sought the demon’s face, I realized that he had not flesh nor blood. He was spirit only, and behind the cloak, only eyes existed. I quickly surmised that he possessed Urbain and in his flesh he raped the women.
“You’re a freak, a parasite. Go back to your darkness in the name of God,” I said as I held the cross in front of me.
He leaped from the darkness with such speed that I was thrown back against a stone pillar.
“In the name of God? What? Are you insane? Do you think God cares if I am in darkness or in light?”
The demon stood over me. I felt his presence, though he had no shadow, not even from his cloak. I scrambled back away from him as quickly as I could.
“The great Julian is afraid of me? Well why not? I carry nothing in my soul but envy and envy should be feared.”
“What? What do you envy, demon?”
“You don’t know?” he said as he walked to his books. “Look here, every crime against humanity is recorded here. Every crime of passion, insanity, and debauchery is recorded here. And there, on the other side of this identical wall, every act of courage, every act of love committed in the name of God is recorded there,” he said, as he seemed to fly to the other side of the room like a stroke of lightning. “I envy that which I am not. If I am here, I envy not being there.”
“You envy God?” I asked, confused at his response.
“Envy God? Of course I don’t envy God. I belong to his creation just as you do. I am his consequence.”
“Nonsense, you bastard,” I yelled as I ran to him and stood in front of his towering figure while Urbain continued to weep in a corner. “That is such utter nonsense.”
“Nonsense? You call God’s universe nonsense? Your God conceived a universe of opposites. That’s all there is, good, bad, dark, light, man, woman. Opposites! I must exist in your world, Julian, because I am your counterpart. Where you are good, my sweet one, I am not. Your oh-so-perfect God could not create life without death or joy without pain or me without you. Opposites, a universe of opposites includes my ugly soul as well! It includes the ugliness in you, Julian. It was you who brought me here. Do not forget that. Your passion for the whore has damned you.”
“God is all good!” Urbain suddenly cried out.
“God, as you call him, includes the dichotomy of evil. God accepts it as such, my oh, so handsome man. God has deemed that the emptiness of nothing inc
ludes the magnitude of everything. I am nothing, and you, my salvation, are everything. Both of us together and apart equal God.”
“Have you no heart? He is innocent. You mark him with the stain of your evil, and he is forever bound to perpetrate your damnation. Go to the streets of Loudon and find a madman there for your wickedness,” I shouted. “Leave the boy alone.”
“Ah.” He sighed. “I see you do not understand. Then I will show you my face, Julian. I will show you my face.”
“No!” I shouted. “I do not wish to see it.”
“Oh, but you must, my pretty one.”
He came to my side and knelt before me. I felt myself weak from the odor he carried. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and as his cloak dropped from his face, I knew he had hold of my chin. I clutched my cross, and in my fear I felt it rip from my neck. I looked down to see the chain in my hand. When I looked up, I saw the face behind the cloak and screamed uncontrollably, “No!”
My screams frightened Urbain, and he suddenly became very quiet. I screamed out again and I kicked my legs toward the demon’s cloak.
“No! Please! No!”
I hit my head upon the floor. Urbain crawled to me, despite his fear, and tried to hold my hand.
The face behind the cloak was mine—Annabel: beautiful, suffering, and joyfully present!
“Julian, are you all right?” the boy called.
I held on to my grief, my pain, and the joy in finding myself, even in the creation of a demon’s reflection, alive enough to grieve.
“Please,” I begged the demon, “do not take my soul.”
The demon laughed.
“Please.”
I groveled at his feet as I held Julian’s cross to my lips.
Annabel Horton, Lost Witch of Salem Page 40