Author's Note- This story was written for the Mysterious Fall Challenge. It is a crossover of Remington Steele and Salem. I don't own either of the shows. This was written for entertainment only.
Chapter One
~ The Other Anne
At dusk, Remington Steele arrived in Salem wearing a black business suit and a dark-blue tie. He had travelled for three days as a chilling rain had beat down upon his windshield with a crazy, almost haunting forgotten song. The sky grew dark and gloomy as he reached his destination, the site of the Salem witch trials. He was drawn to the nearby graveyard with its bent and weathered tombstones. As he exited his car, he walked up to the iron gate, a strange feeling of foreboding attacking his sensitive, sleuthing senses. He had come to the gravesite of his long-lost ancestor, the infamous Cotton Mather.
As he stood in the creepy old cemetery, he felt as if the tiny dark hairs were slowly rising up on the back of his neck. Why was he here? What had driven him to this particular place?
It had all started when Daniel had died. After he and Laura had wed, he had wanted to search for himself, the true man behind the mask. Who was he really... and where did he belong? Once he knew that Daniel was his father, he was seeking his people and his sense of self. He had discovered by searching old records that Cotton Mather had been an ancestor of his. He was descended from Cotton Mather's son, Samuel Mather. As Remington's obsession about his family heritage grew, his relationship with Laura had begun to unravel. Ultimately, he left her in Los Angeles without a word, going to seek a part of himself he had never known. All of his life he had gone without a name - without a true identity. He felt he couldn't love Laura with a full heart - not until he knew the truth which had always been his dark and secret obsession.
Something had drove him here - to Salem - and he was determined to know the truth about himself and about his ancestors. As he stood over the crumbling grave of Cotton Mather, a sudden breeze blew at his nape, making him feel chilled and uneasy. Who was this man beneath the soil? What had his life been like? Had he had dreams... and wishes? How exactly had he died?
As the many questions assaulted him, he was joined at the gravesite by a woman with bright red hair. She was dressed all in black. Her lips were bright red. Those lips were only color on her face besides the gleam in her eyes - those striking dark eyes which had the power to see deep into a man's soul. "Who are you?" he asked as he turned to look at her.
"My name is Anne. Anne Hale," she said in a voice that drew him only deeper into the web of her mystery. She seemed a spirit of old and he was haunted by her beauty and her elegance. "I am a descendant of the original Anne Hale, who became Cotton Mather's wife. Sadly, they were separated, due to tragedy ... and betrayal..."
Her voice trailed off, one of great sadness. Remington's blue eyes shot to her, trying to read her guarded and strained expression.
"While you're here in Salem, you can stay with me," she offered. "I know who you are."
"How can you possibly know who I am?"
"You're Remington Steele, the great private investigator from Los Angeles. You're in all the papers."
"And..." she added. "You're a descendant of Cotton Mather... his father, Increase Mather, and his son, Samuel Mather."
Remington raised an eyebrow, quite entranced with all this young woman knew about him and his heritage. "How can you possibly know all of that?" he demanded.
"I am a descendant of a witch. I know these things," she said with a little laugh.
"I don't believe in witches. It's made up... a fairytale."
"Believe what you will. Cotton believed... and so did his father. Increase and Cotton drove all the witches from Salem. Many died. Some hung over there..." She pointed to the nearby trees. "While others burned..."
Remington swallowed with remorse. "Not a pleasant thought."
"Please... will you stay with me?" Anne asked. "I am living in one of the last original homes which actually stood during the Salem witch trials. It was the great home of the Reverend Cotton Mather and his beloved wife, the other Anne."
Remington couldn't possibly refuse. He wanted to explore the home of his ancestor. He wanted to find out everything he could possibly know about Cotton Mather. It would be the perfect place to stay while he searched for the information he sought.
"I'd love to stay with you," he said as he followed her out of the cemetery and toward her home.
As they walked, she turned to him. He stopped in his tracks when she said something quite peculiar. "You know there is something about you..." she said as she stared into his eyes. "You look like him, you know. I can see a faint resemblance."
He bit his tongue in disbelief. "I've seen all the portraits," she said as he appeared visibly shocked by her words. "They hang upon all of the walls of my house."
"And how did you acquire the home?"
"I am a descendant of his wife, the first Anne. She lived alone and perished, after his death. A life without her dearest; it was misery."
He said nothing as they neared the wooden picket fence of the house in question - the mansion belonging to Cotton Mather and his wife Anne. It looked like a church which had been transformed into a house. A force unlike anything before was drawing Remington inside its very walls.
"What's your real name?" she asked, her hand upon the gate, bright red hair moving about her face as if it were a living thing, caught up in the breeze.
"Just call me Remington... Remington Steele."
She smiled then ... or rather, she grinned as if she knew everything and could see inside his soul. She unnerved him. She was a strange one - a mystery herself and one he intended to unravel. All he needed first was a little sleep; and once inside the house, he intended to have it.