Salem
By: PegasusAcc
A.D. 1662
The pale glow of the fading moon peaked from behind the shadows of ominous black clouds. Figures shifted around the monument, tracing their deathly fingers along the rivulets in the stone, embedding into the altar all their ill will and spite.
"Come now, Ezra," Rachel crooned softly, her voice intonated with the black magic reverberating in the chilled air. She made her way along the hill, dragging the worn hem of her skirt through the dirt without the slightest thought. Her fingers trembled with anticipation, fingering the small, burlap pouch strung snugly against her hip. "The hour is nearly upon us."
Ezra halted a moment, his hazel eyes shining from beneath the mop of auburn flung haphazardly about his face. Running his fingers through his bangs, he gazed into the sky and shivered. "Do you think this is wise?" he questioned quietly, feeling the tingle of unfamiliarity race across his skin. "Shouldn't you be hiding your identity at a time like this, rather than drawing attention?" He dug his toe into the dew-dampened soil, avoiding her glances.
She stuck out her bottom lip, nibbling on the corners of her mouth. Wrinkles creased themselves into the usual ivory smooth skin of her forehead. "Perhaps," she spoke after a moment, twisting strands of raven hair around her forefinger sadistically. "But those impudent pigs know nothing of the true art." Grinning, she bounded up the remainder of the hill and spread her arms in silent offering before the altar. Her head tilted backward as her lips began to move in wordless incantations.
Ezra gazed in awe as the clouds suddenly began to swirl with her at its eye. How beautiful Rachel was, with her hair tumbling about her shoulders as untamed as her spirit… It both frightened and excited him, arousing fears and desires deep within.
The sky suddenly split, a fork of blue lightning crashing down onto the stone with a tremendous crack. Flames erupted from nothing, flowing along the deep channels carved into the surface and revealing the archaic symbols and characters.
From the belt at her side, Rachel removed a small dagger, the antediluvian runes engraved into the blade matching those in the stone. With a quick breath, she drew the sharp metal across the tender flesh of her wrist. Crimson streaked down her pallid, heated skin and fell into the fire. Tongues of orange flames instantly transformed to jade.
She let the blood run for an instant longer, resisting the pain that welled up within her eyes. The world began to shift before she felt Ezra's steady arms bracing her shoulders. He wrapped a strip of his shirt around her wrist wordlessly, lest he break the concentration of the opening ritual.
She nodded against him, and he took a hesitant step backward. Again she lifted her arms to the sky, drops of blood soaking through the fabric and dropping to her face.
"Oh heathens of the underworld, craftsmen of hell and workers of magic. Grant thee, your servant, power to punish those who dare oppose the way of witchcraft. I offer thee a covenant, sealed by thy's own blood. Endow thee with the strength to vanquish those unworthy." The sky sizzled with a pulsing power as her head rolled back and a satanic laugh ripped through her throat. The clouds gathered, rain falling in a sudden maelstrom.
Ezra stood with curious eyes, the water quickly seeping through and molding his clothes to an inwardly shivering frame.
The very air around Rachel beat with a heartbeat of dangerous and alluring beauty. Yes, this was the way it was meant to be. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her close and blew on the few exposed hairs on the back of her neck. He felt her quivering with excitement as the rapid downpour began to subside. "Sorceress," he whispered. "You have stolen my heart with your magic here tonight. Allow me to be your ever faithful servant." He kissed her neck and added, "Always shall I follow you."
She twined her fingers with his, and together they began another chorus of demonic laughter.
A.C. 197
Midii gave her lips a final swipe of crimson from the tube of lipstick, glancing cautiously at the image in the mirror for a final time. Her black dress hung loosely about her shoulders, blonde ringlets of hair resting gently on the exposed ivory skin. The fabric slid gracefully about her figure, taunting the hungry eye without satisfying anything.
"Perfect," she smirked, running her fingers over the midnight satin. "Trowa won't be able to resist."
The apartment lights flickered as thunder cracked outside. Tree branches grate across the windowpane, a chilling breeze ruffling through the dying leaves. Midii shuddered involuntarily. She hated thunderstorms.
The vid-phone began to bleep annoyingly, the ring echoing through the under furnished apartment like a tocsin. She spun delicately on her heal, listening to the soft click of her shoes on the tiled floor. The caller I.D. flashed red. Midii's heart leapt as she flipped the screen to audio only.
"Trowa!" she answered happily, her fingers dancing around the hem of her dress.
"Midii, what's wrong with your screen? I can't see you…" Midii leaned forward on her elbows, basking in the concerned, tenor tone. She wanted to see him, but she wanted her appearance to be a surprise.
"I shut off the video transfer," she stated plainly, imagining the puzzled look she knew would be inching its way onto his features. "I don't want to ruin your surprise."
"My surprise?" Midii giggled a bit behind her hand. Tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, she traced an outline of Trowa on the blank screen.
"Yes. I don't want to ruin it until I meet you at Duo's party." There was a brief pause, and Midii knew Trowa was envisioning her ensemble. The lights flickered again, a bolt of lightning cracking outside the window, accompanied by a roll of thunder. Midii shrieked involuntarily, clutching her bare arms in an attempt to subdue her shivering.
"Midii, are you all right? Do you want me to come over and take you to Duo's?" She took a deep breath, attempting to ignore the cacophony outside.
"N-No, I'm fine. Really. It's just a silly storm. I'll meet you there alright?" She could hear his gentle hum of uncertainty. "Honesty, I'll be fine on my own." she continued, desperate to convince him. "It's not that far anyway." She listened to his doubtful hum again, before he reluctantly agreed to meet her there.
Midii shut off the screen then shuffled to grab her coat from the closet. Thunder clapped, and the apartment went black.
"Shit," Midii swore under her breath, fumbling around the darkness and making her way to the kitchen. "I can't find a damn thing and I don't remember where I stashed the candles from the last storm." She shuddered again, listening to the creak of rotting wood tossed about by the rain.
Midii ran her fingers over her bare arms. She was so cold, goose bumps rampaging across her skin. "I'm being childish," she chided herself, heaving a massive sigh. Her heart knocked against her rib cage fiercely as she saw the white breath of air curl in the darkness. "It's…it's not that cold," she reprimanded herself, pinning her arms to her sides to prove the point. She walked curtly toward the kitchen, rummaging in the cabinets until her hands rested on the dust-covered wax. She examined the candles with her fingertips, noting the carvings etched into the wax. Taking a gentle whiff, she nearly doubled over.
"I-I know that smell," she whispered into the darkness. "Where do I know it from?" She pulled a box of matches from the basket above the fridge. Setting the candle on the counter, she struck the match and lit the short wick poking from the wax.
Midii arched her eyebrow elegantly, tilting her head curiously. The candle was a deep crimson, with decorative engraving circling the jade, flickering flame. She lifted it, examining the markings with the spy's eye she's honed over the years in the war. I don't remember…she began before screaming and dropping the candle. The room was dark again. Midii trembled, groping for a jacket and umbrella in the closet before she slammed the door in a mad rush to leave the apartment. The sight of two unblinking, golden eyes had completely shattered her nerves.
A.D. 1662
Rachel glanced around the altar. Everything was set. Everything was perfect.
"How are you," Ezra asked quietly, cold sweat beaded on his forehead. Despite his attempts to seem stoic, his hazel eyes flickered with worry from behind his otherwise deadpan face. The muscles of his now bare arms shone in the moonlight, the thin sheen of sweat quickly drying in the brisk breezes. Rachel smirked, her gold eyes dancing with amusement and mischief.
"We're almost complete," she promised, gesturing toward the pentagram erected around the altar. She and Ezra had spent the past half hour grinding poles into the soft clay. Now, the five points stood against the wind, capturing the magic that radiated from Rachel's figure. Ezra nodded silently, then took his station near the northern most corner.
Rachel simpered to herself, imagining the demonic powers in which she would unleash upon the unsuspecting villagers below. Rage fumed within her as the images of her mother's limp body hanging from the gallows surfaced within her memory. "They'll pay," she growled, withdrawing the ceremonial candle from the pouch slung at her side. She fingered the red wax delicately, carving symbols with her nail.
"Now…" she whispered, blowing gently onto the wick, a small green flame jumping to life. She placed the candle in the right topmost corner, among the overlapping circles of various herbs and spices. Her blood flowed in the channels along the altar, the crimson dripping over the stone sides.
Rachel began to concentrate, biting the inside of her cheek until she tasted the metallic liquid spread across her taste buds. She lifted her arms to the sky, feeling the power pulsate through her bones, running hot in her veins. The stars above her began to spin, blending into the inky blackness of clouds that caressed the sky.
I feel it, her mind screamed in ecstasy. So this was the power Mama guarded so closely…
Images began to rolodex themselves across her eyelids. Memories from her childhood, years spent harbored in dark closets that smelled in ginger, mint and basil. The way her mother had taught her how to mix the herbs into the large cast-iron pot that hung over their open fire. To cure what ails…
Rachel basked in her memories. Her mother had been accused of witchcraft, the curse of Satan.
No, not a curse…but a gift…Rachel corrected her reminiscences, fingertips tingling. Mama was just afraid to exercise her powers. She let the force pulse within her. The feeling excited her.
"Rachel!"
The screaming snapped her from her from the trance, the feelings fading instantly as the ritual was broken. Only a last amount of magic remained, embedded into her skin. She glanced around angrily, eyes resting on Ezra's panicked face. He pointed behind her, stuttering.
Rachel spun, clenching her fists in agitation. Touches dotted the hillside, the black smoke snaking into the night. The town folk were on their way.
A.C. 197
Midii opened her umbrella shakily, her breath coming in short rasps. "What was that?" she questioned herself, walking along the deserted street toward Duo's. The rain fell steadily, forming a curtain that allowed minimal visibility. "I'm positive that whatever it was wasn't natural."
She walked a few more steps, then ducked under a shop's awning. She watched the rainfall for a moment, lit by occasional flashes of lightning. She shuddered, the same iciness she had felt in her apartment beginning to creep over her again.
"I'm being ridiculous," she laughed as her voice cracked. Thunder rolled in the distance. She cringed.
"Ius et fur dicitur."
Midii's head swiveled, searching desperately for the voice. "Who's there?" she shouted, her dress clinging to her legs. She felt someone was there, and she knew from years of experience that even though she may not be able to see them, that didn't mean they weren't haunting around the next corner.
Her muscles tightened, ready to defend herself against anyone trying to attack her.
"Ius et fur dicitur"
Midii bit her tongue as she swore, alarm spreading throughout her body. "What are you saying…?" she grumbled, attempting fruitlessly to keep her heart from breaking her ribcage. "I don't understand…"
"Justice is granted even to the thief," the voice echoed. Midii swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. The voice echoed insider her mind, coiling itself around her limbs, leaving her nearly paralyzed. Her eyes stung with panicked tears.
"What do you want…" she sobbed, going numb. Was this some cruel joke? Was there someone hidden behind the stands of fruit across the street, waiting to see how long it out take before she would crack? Duo would be one to pull such a joke, but she doubted that even he would frighten her so far. Yet perhaps it was something bigger. What if someone wanted revenge against her for her involvement in the war?
"You…stole…it…"
Midii screamed, tears pouring down her ashen cheeks. She broke through the captivity of her invisible bonds too terrified to notice the eyes that followed her as she ran into the crimson rain.
A.D. 1662
Rachel's anger began to swell as the dissonance neared. "Ezra," she whispered harshly, feeling him close behind her. "I want you to run. Get away now." There was a silent pause.
"I won't," he answered after a moment. "I helped you. I shall not desert you now. I am forever at your side." Rachel spun, her eyes swollen red with tears.
"Y-you…" she stuttered, grinding her teeth. "You don't understand. The only option left is the gallows. I wasn't able to complete the ritual, there's not enough power…" Ezra silenced her with soft kiss. Her lips tingled as he held her.
"I am forever at your side," he repeated. Rachel nodded stupidly into his chest, knowing that he would not change his mind.
The smoke turned into a blanket above their heads. "Wench!" the people cried, brandishing pitchforks and shovels. "Devil's child! Hell's corruption!" Rachel trembled as the insults continued.
The mob stood at the edge of the hill. Every village was there, clad in nightcaps and bonnets though their eyes showed no sign of sleep. A couple stepped forth from the crowd.
"Ezra!" the woman shrieked, pointing at the man. "My son, what has she done to you?!" Her husband clasped her shoulders tightly, fixing his hardened stare at the witch in front of him.
"Let my son go," he demanded, his voice as burly as his build. "You whore of the underworld. Give him back." Rachel felt blindly for her dagger.
"She did not possess me, mother, father…" Ezra said, nodding toward each of his parents. "I can of my own free will." He wrapped his arm around Rachel tightly. "I'm in love with her, and I have given my heart to her of my own accord."
The wife's face drained of all color before she fell into her husband's arms. "My poor, poor boy…" she muttered under her breath. The town pastor stepped forward, his pistol cocked and pointed toward Rachel's heart.
"Ezra, you have always been a good child. You've followed the path of God since you were baptized. I am sure that should you return to the Lord's way now, you shall be forgiven for your wrong deeds. But come, remove yourself from the presence of this…unholy abomination." Ezra looked back defiantly, shielding Rachel's trembling frame.
"No."
The pastor shook his head sadly. "Then I am afraid that I have no choice." He pulled the pistol's trigger, watching impassively as Ezra fell to the ground. Rachel screamed, bending over his convulsing body.
His eyes were beginning to dull. "Why didn't you listen to me?" she cried. His hand grazed against the skin on her cheek.
"Sorceress…" he coughed, blood leaking from the corners of his mouth. "You have stolen my heart with your magic here tonight. Allow me to be your ever faithful servant." Rachel shook her head.
"You were born a fool."
"Always shall I follow you, even into hell." His hand fell from her face and Rachel smiled, her pain giving way to numbness. She rose shakily to her feet, Ezra's blood soaked into her clothes. The last bits of magic began to burn inside her.
"You stole it. The only thing that truly mattered. You stole him away from me." Her golden eyes glowed savagely. "You don't know the first thing of witchcraft," she sneered, hysterics taking over. Her hair was disheveled, sprawling in all directions. She lifted her arms. "Know I shall educate you…" Rain began to pour.
"Suffer," she chanted. "Just as I have. You shall suffer; everyone you hold dear shall suffer. And so shall their children." Rachel coughed, pulling the dagger from her side. She knew she must close the ritual, should her curse hold through the generations. She backed cautiously toward the altar.
"Die," she whispered, before plunging the blade into her chest. She fell atop the altar, extinguishing the flame. The scent of her blood embedded itself into the wax, as well as turned it red.
A.C. 197
Midii rushed through the doorway, gulping for air. Duo's apartment was dark and the soft whirr of electricity was absent. The power was out here as well, she decided, fumbling for a phone. She had to call Trowa. She needed to hear his voice to know that she wasn't going insane.
"Die."
Midii jumped, her hair flying about her face. She dashed into the kitchen, blindly grabbing a chef's knife from the rack. "Show yourself damn it!" she hollered into the darkness. She saw a flick of gold inch toward her, moving steadily and lazily.
"I'm not afraid," she reassured herself, backing into the pantry.
"Yes you are," the voice taunted in her mind.
"What have I done?" Midii croaked involuntarily. "What do you want?" There was a silence.
"You lit the candle," it answered finally. "And I've come to steal your happiness."
Midii felt the sweat pour down her back. She blinked, the pinpricks of gold coming closer.
She lunged, blade thrust outward. He felt it embed itself into tender flesh, slick liquid coating her hands. The smell, her mind remembered. This is what the candle smelled like.
The figure fell atop her, panting heavily. Lighting lit the room, Midii's voice too weak to shriek. The knife dropped from her fingers, clattering on the floor.
"Tr-Trowa…" she sputtered, the gold trimming on his clown costume soaked. "I didn't know…oh God…I thought I was alone. I didn't, didn't think you'd wait."
The room lit in another flash, and Trowa grimaced slightly, his face contorted into pain.
"I waited for you," he explained, his voice raspy. "Everyone left…no power…but I waited for you." He found her frozen fingers, entwining them with his own. "I'll always wait for you, you know that." Midii felt his muscles go slack and his breathing lessen. Midii stared into the darkness, too sad to cry. Golden eyes smiled back at her. They were framed by a face that neither seemed to appear nor disappear. Faded, raven hair accented the indistinguishable features, ribbons of fire braided into the locks.
"You…stole…it. You…stole…him." The eyes grinned roguishly, hatred burning like smoldering coals.
"You could always escape the pain…" Midii lifted the knife, running the pads of her fingers along the sharp edge.
"Die," she whispered, thrusting the blade into her already dead and broken heart. The eyes laughed mirthlessly, shedding tears of scarlet before extinguishing itself like a candle's flame.