Bones of a Witch (23 page)

“No, she doesn’t. You say she’s with
Ursula?”

This time he nodded.

“Yes.”

“You sure it’s not just some other woman she
met up with?”

Another nod.

“Yes.”

“Has she got a weapon?”

A shrug.

“I don’t know. Is witchcraft a
weapon?”

Tony took a deep breath and let it out with an
audible sigh. “Did she mention where in Salem she might be going?”
I looked into the mirror, but Dominic remained natural. Tony came
back louder. “Did she mention where she—”

“Fuck you!” This from Dominic, words I had
never heard him utter before in my life. I looked up into the
mirror. He was looking at Tony. “That’s right, Detective Marcella.
If you have something to ask me then you just ask me. I’m not some
fuck’n` shadow back here. I mean, look, I know I fucked up back at
the train station. But that’s done. It worked out and you had
Lilith back home. But running out of gas today was not a screw-up.
I hadn’t planned on following anyone to Salem this morning. If it
wasn’t for me you wouldn’t even know what Lilith was up to at this
moment. At least now you have a clue, so back the fuck off. I’m a
good cop, but I’m human. I have feelings you know, and I demand you
treat me with some respect, Goddamit!”

At that point I had already slowed the car down
to just above walking speed. I figured if anyone were to get thrown
out (Dominic) then at least he’d have a decent chance of doing a
successful pitch and roll, and maybe not get hurt too badly. But
Tony didn’t react like I thought he might; no small wonder I
suppose. His return to prime had renewed the passion and
excitability of his youth, but it did not void the maturity of his
years. I suppose that can be a difficult combination to deal with,
especially with a hellcat like Lilith thrown into the mix. When it
became obvious that Tony had no more to say about that, I picked up
the pace again and merged back into traffic. A few minutes later
Tony said, “Head for Our Lady of Grace Church.”

I nodded, and I think I said okay, but after
that, I said nothing more, and between us not another word was
spoken for the entire ride.

Lilith Adams:

Ursula and I arrived at Our Lady of Grace
Church just as the last of the congregation was filing in. We
parked the car around the side in a dirt lot and got out without
anyone really noticing us. There, behind a dumpster, we slipped our
gown-length Sunday dresses on over our tops and jeans. Then we tied
our hair up into buns and capped them off in traditional
cross-cloth headwear. I thought we came across a bit cheeky, but
Ursula assured me we looked most Puritan, so long as we addressed
one final detail.

“And what’s that?” I asked.

“Our boots,” she said. “We must take them
off.”

“Why? What’s wrong with them?”

She hiked her hem up and frowned upon them as
though they were made of shit. “They are not at all
lady-like.”

“The hell they aren’t,” I scoffed. “They’re
six-hundred dollar Pradas. I’m not taking them off for
anyone.”

“Six hundred dollars?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What? You don’t understand
dollars?”

“No. Is that a lot?”

“Yes, it’s like, I don’t know,
three-hundred-sixty British pounds sterling?”

She yanked her hemline back up, only this time
extending her foot with toes tipped forward. “The devil you say.
Prada? Why did you not say so? Let us continue. We have prayer to
attend.”

Okay, I know she didn’t know what Prada was,
but I have to hand it to the girl; she does learn quickly. We
pulled our cross-cloth caps down low on our foreheads, closed up
the v-line on our cleavage and with bowed heads and steepled hands,
filed into church.

We took seats at opposite ends of the second to
last pew, she on the far left, me on the right. The service had
already gotten under way, and as I expected, the old magistrate was
delivering the sermon. He stood behind the pulpit like an old
gargoyle, his nostrils flaring with every mention of the words fire
and brimstone, which incidentally, he mentioned often. But the
congregation ate it up, gasping and sighing in all the right
places; especially when he got to the part about demons, specters
and witches infiltrating their everyday lives. I particularly liked
the parts that rhymed.

“Yea, wickedness doth tempt
us
,” he began, “
when lax our guard doth falls. The demon strikes unmercifully
from within familiar walls. Whose specter borne of mortal bone
shall fool the timid beast, he strikes most quick in light of day
when thou expects it least
.”

I know, what a riot. Before long
his audience had worked themselves into a nervous twitter, with
a
Halleluiah
here
and a righteous
Amen
there. I almost hated to break up the party, but we were
there to finish a job. I glanced over at Ursula and gave her a
wink, letting her know it was show time. Then I stood up, pointing
an accusing finger at the magistrate and shouted, “Hark, for the
devil hath struck thee with serpent’s tongue. Listen what lies he
doth speak.”

“
`Tis true,” Ursula shouted, taking to her feet and pointing
from the other end of the pew. “For I saw with my own eyes the
raven what suckles His Magistrate’s right hand.”

“Doth suckle where?” the man immediately in
front of Ursula asked.

“`Tween his large finger and fore, I am
certain. Tis the same raven what came to me today this
morn`.”

“How came this raven to you?”

“He came by way of the mist.”

“Silence!” ordered the magistrate. “Silence
this woman!”

The man returned to Ursula. “From what mist,
say you young lady.” Now the entire congregation was looking back
at her.

“From the meadow, for ought I know,” she
replied, her demeanor sweet and honest in tone. “I heard the voice
of Satan and the raven did appear. I opened my window and he spoke
unto me then.”

“Of what did he speak? Tell us as you
think.”

“If I must tell I will, but I fear his
wrath.”

“No. Fear not. You are among
friends.”

“Yes,” said another heavy-set gentleman
standing beside her. “You have not to fear but to speak the
truth.”

The magistrate’s fist came down hard of the
pulpit. “Enough,” he cawed. “Enough I say. Remove this woman
now.”

“Look,” I said, pointing after casting a spell
that summonsed a raven into the church where it landed on the
pulpit deck in front of the magistrate, its long wedge-shaped tail
fully fanned. “`Tis a sign. `Tis the raven what smites bucolic
fools in pallid dens.”

“It is he!” cried Ursula, “The raven of the
mist.”

“What does it mean?” an old woman in the front
pew cried. “Tell us Miss, for only you know.”

“Aye, he beacons the wretched with hollow
promises of fortune and vice. Ignore him as you would the serpent
and the wolf.”

“Lies!” spat the magistrate, and when he
leveled a crooked finger at the congregation the raven flew upon
it. “Lies, for I know the demon doth wallow in the wicked of women
as art thou.”

“See here,” I said, “what beast the magistrate
befriends, and know what perch the raven doth mantle? He will have
you all sign the devil’s book.”

“I will not sign it,” the old woman
declared.

“Nor I, but die first I shall.” the fat man
urged.

All eyes fell upon the magistrate then. Ursula
spun her index finger in circles above her head, whipping up a pale
white mist that swirled in lazy loops before following her finger’s
point to the pulpit. There it hovered briefly in witness of a
hundred pairs of eyes and settled heavy over the magistrate and the
Raven like a slurry fog. Cries of indignation rumbled from the
pews. The magistrate’s jaw dropped in frozen gasp, and with a
dipteran spell I filled it with flies, which spewed from his parted
lips in a black swarm.

“`Tis the devil in reckon,” I declared. “The
magistrate doth have his presence. We must vanquish this unholy
disorder for it is thy curse.”

“`Tis thy curse,” the man in front of Ursula
repeated.

“Thy curse!” the old woman up front
howled.

A spontaneous roundabout chorus of similar
cries swept through the congregation like wildfire. The magistrate
shook the raven from his finger and started the rostrum in haste.
But the crowd, smelling fear in his retreat, moved in on him in a
swell of brute and might. The younger men reached him first,
cutting off his escape as the larger men took him down. The mist
that had settled over the pulpit now swirled in a rush of agitated
air like a meandering ghost threading tempers and paranoia. In the
knotted huddle I heard shrieks of pain amid snapping bones. Men
were kicking; women were stomping and children in the fringes
cried. High among the rafters the raven circled ominously. But
then, as quickly as it all began, the entire congregation broke up
and scattered, stampeding out of the church like cockroaches from a
bright light. I waited for the last of the vigilantes to hightail
out before motioning Ursula to the door. There we stood, watching a
traffic jam of vehicles jockeying through clouds of dust to keep
from being the last to leave. As soon as it felt safe, we hurried
out and around to the side of the building where we peeled our
silly hats and dresses off and stuffed them into the dumpster. But
just as we were just about to get into the car, I heard a voice
call to us.

“Leaving so soon, ladies?”

I turned sharply, half expecting to find the
magistrate standing there with that confounded raven sitting upon
his shoulder. Instead, I found the devil himself.

“Putnam,” I said. “I thought I killed
you.”

He grinned smugly. “Well, you didn’t.” I
guessed his smug attitude came compliments of the gun in his hand
and the witch’s stone around his neck. “I want you both to step
away from the car now.” He motioning with the muzzle of his gun
toward a black van parked behind my car.

“And if we don’t?” I said.

“Then you can run and I’ll shoot the two of you
in the back. It’s your call.”

“But you don’t want to shoot us, do
you?”

He shook his head faintly. “Not particularly.
I’d much rather see you hang on Gallows Hill tonight.”

“Why is that?”

“It is my calling: to root out witches wherever
I find them and to banish them from the planet by the means of our
forefathers.”

“I see.” I looked to Ursula. Her eyes seemed
fixed on the witch’s stone. “I`m sorry. I can’t do anything,” I
said to her. “You?”

“Nay.” She lifted her head, as to nod at the
stone. “For what his charm hath taketh from thee, it doth also
taketh twice.”

“Yeah, I was afraid of that. So, what do you
think, go with him or make a run for it?”

“Run if ye must, for I shall follow and let his
musket strike not thee but me.”

I shook my head. “It doesn’t work that way,
Ursula. He’s got more than one shot in his musket. He could drop us
both.”

“Aye then, to fall presently is bested by the
latter of two. I shall sooner wait till moonlight’s watch than
forfeit now if that is thy choice.”

“Right, then I suppose we’re going for a ride.”
I turned to Putnam and gestured toward the van. “After
you?”

I think it’s safe to say he seemed none too
amused. He herded us to the back of the van where he instructed
Ursula to duct tape my hands behind my back. Next, he bound her
hands similarly and pushed us into the van. He slammed the door and
came around to the driver’s side. As he was getting in, I heard
another vehicle pulling up beside us. Putnam turned in his seat,
took aim at us and warned, “Not a word, ladies, or I’ll kill you
both here and now. Understand?”

I nodded yes and Ursula mirrored my response.
The car next to us shut off its motor. Immediately, three doors
open and then three doors close, and that’s when I heard Tony
saying, “Yup, that’s hers all right. They must still be
inside.”

To which Carlos answered, “Let’s hope we’re not
too late.”

“Look….” This from Tony again; I imagined him
pointing to Spinelli. “Carlos and I will go this way. You take the
back. The first one of us to see either of them needs to holler
out. I want whoever the girls are after to know that we’re here
too. You got it?”

“Got it,” said Carlos, and Spinelli echoed
it.

Footfalls in the dirt told me that Carlos and
Tony took off around the front of the church and Dominic went to
cover the back. Putnam waited until they were out of sight before
starting the van and backing away. I guess that was when my gut
really began to turn. I gave Ursula a look like we had better do
something; and although we couldn’t see out the front of the van
for the curtain dividing the cabin from the cargo end, we hoped
that one of the guys was still within earshot. So like a couple of
mules we began kicking in the side of the van as hard as we could.
Spinelli, apparently unable to gain entrance through the locked
back door, had turned the corner just in time to hear the racket.
He pulled his weapon and ordered Putnam to stop the van.