Salem Centre, March 2021
Myra crossed from the cruise ship, Wendi, to the sand-covered docks of Salem’s busiest port. There were tens of boats here, some coming others going, while some just docked at the bay. Small swallows were searching the cloudless sky, dovetailed cuckoos diving for fish, and some pink-billed flamingos playing gleefully in the water.
The dock was not the same. The waterfront extended to about three kilometers out into the water, and the wooden dock she used to sit on was transformed into beautiful metalwork with fancy images of the hospitality industry.
There used to be a small ferry that moved people along the dock, onto the beach. There was a train there now that cabled its way past the beach and directly into the city. She let the fresh, salty air rush over her face and blew her hair back. She closed her eyes and tried to remember the good times she had as a child here. A lady passed close to her brushing her with a suitcase.
She opened her eyes, not sure which of these tourists it was, then decided that it didn’t matter anyway. She picked her backpack up and walked toward the train. It was not as modern as the ones in London, not even those in Portsmouth. But she liked it.
The train moved slowly at first, but once it crossed the beach, picked up speed. She looked over to the left of the train, hoping to find her grandmother’s house, but it was either remodeled or was no longer there. As a kid, she would visit here with her two friends. Were they still here, would they remember her?
The train came to a stop almost in front of Sir Conrad’s statue. She got out and felt completely lost. The statue was the same but was now part of a park, with a flower garden, shops, fast food restaurants, and small duck ponds.
She saw no one who she could remember or no one who recognized her. There was the old bakery, still the same unchanged, except for the paint, now a bright summer green. But the workers were new and the old, cheery Benjamin Smith was not there.
She walked on towards the town center where two skyscrapers blocked the sun and created shadows of a giant on his horse. She sat down for a while to catch her breath before she would start the long climb home.
A policeman wearing a white shirt, brown pants, and a black hat walked over to her. He greeted her politely and won her ear-to-ear smile.
‘See you are new here. Welcome to Salem. My name is Bell,’ he was slender, neatly dressed, and carried a wooden baton.
‘Hi, Bell, I am Myra, Myra Magnum. Nice to meet you.’ She took his extended hands. They were warm, tough but solid. His grip was firm and reassuring.
‘Do you have a reservation at a hotel, or is someone coming to pick you up?’
‘No, no one knows I’m coming. I am going to Gallows. My family lives there.’
His grey eyes turned a bit darker, and they narrowed slightly.
‘Miss Myra, you do be careful now, Gallows has become a bit dangerous these last years. A lot of disappearances. If you need a guide, I can get you one.’
‘Thank, you so much, Bell, but I do know my way around this place. It is a bit more than I remembered, but no need to worry. I will be alright.’
She got up and started her long walk home.
Pickleton Beach, Salem, March 2021
Dri waved her hand and muttered the spell. She extended her arm towards Alex. A red cap appeared on his head. She smiled at him, it made him look more handsome.
His dark, curly hair seemed to burst forth from beneath the cap, and his brown eyes opened wide in surprise.
‘I wanted a rabbit, you sent me the cap.?’ He tugged at his sides as he kept laughing. She was unable to do animals and was still trying to understand how the visual creation power works.
According to Witch Brewing for Dummies, witches with the talent of visual creation could read a person’s thoughts and convert them into reality. She was still wrestling with the mind-reading technique.
The book showed how other witches could tell what gift to get for birthdays, as they could read someone’s thoughts. They would surprise their loved ones or friends with the exact token of their heart’s desire. The book mentioned one example of a troubled teenager who had the time of her life when her aunt took her waterboarding in Hawaii for her birthday.
The young girl filled with pleasure hugged her aunt asking how did she know. Only smiles and a ‘Saw it on your face’ came from her aunt.
Dri lounged at Alex, and he caught her, both falling into the sand, rolling like small pandas before he pinned her on her back. She looked into his brown eyes, watching his lineless forehead, wrinkling as he planted a soft kiss on her succulent lips.
‘let’s try again, Dri,’ he rose up and extended his hands, taking hers and helping her to her feet. His hands were ever so soft as if he had never worked a day in his life. Yet his family was farmers, running an eighteen-acre cow farm.
They have been in love since they were kids, or maybe more like the first time she flew. She was eight years old then, and he was eleven. They were all playing in the apple orchard at the school. She went chasing a flamingo that seemed hurt.
‘Why don’t you look where you are going little, girl?’ he had asked her pretending to be upset. But noting beside himself how extremely beautiful she was. Almost like the maidens pulled from a fairytale. He had noticed the small dimples on both cheeks and mused to himself that most people only had one.
Yet it was her green eyes that had kept him, prisoner, since then. Sometimes, like on that day, he would just gaze into them, like he wanted to get inside. She had fallen to the ground, feeling rather groggy in her head.
His smile was so inviting and filled her heart with life and a strange longing to touch it. She stretched out her leg from under her and placed her hand on the ground.
Now he gave her a hand. ‘Here little princess, let me help you up’
He called me a princess, she thought and smiled beside the slight pain in her forehead. She took his hands, and they seemed to lock into each other. A small tingle shot through their united hands as if an electric spark had entered them.
He was brave. He did not pull his hand away. Although, she couldn’t even though she had wanted to. She rose to her feet or tried to do but their hand remained united, and then as if to make things worse, she floated up into the air, bringing him with her.
His response had frightened her. He had taken her other hand and gently placed it around his shoulder. Then placed his free hands on her hips. She did expect any of that, but it reminded her of the fairy movies that she had seen.
She almost fainted when he kissed her lips. But she wanted him to do it again. She had closed her eyes. But only the sudden thud of them falling back to the ground brought her back to life.
‘What did you do that for!’ she demanded of him. ‘you almost killed us, do you think this is a movie or something, ma will hear all about this….’
‘So, you are a witch.’ He had discovered her secret there and then. He seemed happy to have discovered her. ‘And I am your prince. I will kiss you again, just in case you become a frog.’
We both laughed at that and then we went back talking all the way to class.
Gallows, Salem, 2021
Brandon saw her first. She came walking up the hill like an exhausted pony, just trotting slowly, solidly, covering the ground one step at a time. She was a bit tall for a woman but had excellent curves that even her long flowing summer dress did little to hide. Her chest was lined with the most adorable triangles that he had ever seen and the desire to touch them burned within him, almost uncontrollable. Her legs were hidden beneath her floral dress but he imagined that they had to be perfect and strong, just looking at the way she walked.
Her hips swayed to and fro as if dancing to the rhythm of the pavement. Placed in his hands, Brandon was sure he could do wonders.
‘look Mark! See that angel coming our way’ Mark, blonde, medium built, athletic body, looked down Gallows Hill. He couldn’t believe their luck. It has been months now since a tourist dared to come here alone. This one was young and beautiful and, from what he could guess, was pretty dumb.
‘That’s a beauty for sure, where do you think she going?
‘I have no idea, maybe up to Aunt Clara. I call dibs on her, saw her first, I get first cut.’ Mark did not like the idea.
‘Not again. You went first the last time. We should take turns, better that way.’
‘You sleep too much. I have to be watching the road while you just drink, sleep, and then want to go first, no way Mark, no way.’ Brandon fired back. And Mark guarded silence. Brandon was more of a fighter than he was and the chance of a dibs battle was not to his liking.
Myra drew closer to the two men sitting on the bank. The taller of the two, a dark-haired, very muscular, well-kept beard without a mustache, was wearing a pair of California jeans, slippers, and a black polo shirt. He got up and came over to meet her.
She felt consumed by the heat, and a bit weary from the sweat running down her cheeks. Somehow Brandon did not recognize her, but she remembered him well. He was a bully back then, always picking fights which he never lost. Except for that farmer boy from Gossips.
He was always able to beat Brandon in any way that the bully would choose. She smiled at the memory of the greasy pig contest when she turned ten, just shortly before she left. Her mom had come up with the idea, that instead of a cake-filled party, why not have a greasy pig day?
Almost all of the town lads had signed up. So did Brandon and the farm boy. After about an hour of fruitless attempts, the contest had boiled down just to the two kids. The farmer was smart and finally laid hold of the animal’s leg, but Brandon grabbed the other. It was clear to everyone that he was playing foul.
‘What brings an angel from heaven down to the Gallows?’ she noted that Brandon was as charming as ever, only now he was handsome and no longer chubby.
‘What would I be doing in heaven, neither you nor I will ever go there’ She took him completely off guard. But he had charisma and had been to church when he was a kid.
‘No matter how bad we can get; the God above will always have mercy.’ He reached over and helped her get her backpack down.
‘Thanks,’ she said, impressed that he was a gentleman too. ‘We have nothing to do with the heavenly father, we are children of the same god.’
‘See you are on your way to Aunt Clara, welcome to Gallows’ was everyone in this town so polite. Not like in Lilliput, where no one says hello. It was so good to be back home.
‘Thanks, you wouldn’t happen to have some drinking water, would you?’ Brandon couldn’t believe it would be so easy. With all the other victims they had to force the drugged water down their throats, but this one was asking for it.
‘Hey, Mark, can you get me a bottle of pure water, please? Our angel here is a bit thirsty’ Mark ran back into the house to fetch the water.
‘Myra, Myra Magnum’ she introduced herself hoping that he would remember her, that finally, someone would. But he seemed oblivious of who she might be.
‘Nice to meet you, Miss Myra, my name is Timothy, you can call me Tim, he is Phillip, we just call him Phil’ She was disappointed. Not only did he not recognize her last name, but he was pretending to be someone else.
Mark came back with the water. He handed it to Myra, who took it and started to open the bottle at once.
‘Thank you, Phil, what does a girl have to do to rest a bit.’ Her feet felt tired, she wanted to rest. Phil mused over this tremendous blessing that the gods must have sent him.
‘Sorry, for my bad manners, Miss Myra. Please do come in and sit down for a while.’ The manners of these homeboys were impeccable. At least some things never changed. Myra felt satisfied and followed the pair into their den.
The house was surprisingly clean and except for a pair of pants thrown against the wire post, it was impeccable. There were several fruit trees in the yard and the shade was enticing.
She sat down below a pear tree where a pair of chipmunks dined in peace. She stretched her arms and then patted herself on her lower back, her eyes looked sleepy. The two men started whispering. That was rather rude.
She focused her mind on Phil and repeated the chant. Slowly his thoughts flowed into her mind. Every single dirty, perverse thought flooded her mind. She felt the pleasure rising in her heart and the hunger for fresh blood started to grow. She saw everything. Girl after girl, as they toyed with them before wasting them in the Red River.
‘So, you drugged my water, such ruthlessness. You are both perfect for me.’ Myra’s eyes turned red and her fingernails grew longer. Her hand came down against Phil’s cheek and raked out the flesh with her nails, leaving a five-streak mark on his face.
Phil screamed in agony and swore in wrath. He rushed her swinging wild. Myra brought up her index finger and paused him in midair. He remained frozen like a statue.
Phil felt a hard chain wrapping around his body. It came up slowly until it reached his throat. He could no longer feel his feet or hands. His throat felt like a rock, he tried to scream again as the chains continued up to his mouth, and finally all of his body.
Brandon turned and ran, ran faster than he had ever done before. The last time heard of a pillar of salt was in that Sodom where a man’s wife was turned into stone. Now, Phil was gone. This thing had turned her into a statue.
‘Hey, Brandon! Why the rush, don’t you want to kiss me, now?’ He was shocked now, she knew who he was, either way, he was a goner. He thought about escaping, going the back path up at Aunt Clara, then disappearing into the hidden caves. He could hear her feet coming behind him. No running, just trotting.
He ducked behind an overlay where a vineyard joined with an apple orchard. He crawled below the low brush of the laden grapes. At times he bounced into wasp nests, but he couldn’t stop for that now. He knew the only way out was to escape.
When he reached the brick wall of the vineyard, he climbed over, then sat down, panting heavily. He knew he would have to wait this out. Time was on his side; she did not know this place. Or, did she?
A bird flew out from a nearby tree. Then several others followed. He turned and faced the woods. He gasped and his mouth fell wide open. She was flying without a broomstick.
‘Hello Brandon, what are you doing hiding here? You still smell of pigs; I can feel you a mile off’ Myra lowered down close to him.
‘You are Bilka’s daughter! You too are a witch..’ he stammered and found rue as she smiled at his obvious fear. He tried to get up, but Myra moved her right hand, and a bunch of grape vines broke through the walls and coiled around him. The vines kept tightening around his chest and he began to choke.
‘Please, Miss Myra, I will be your slave… just don’t kill me.’ The vines stopped crunching but did not slacken their grip. ‘please Miss Myra. Please’
‘Was that how these innocent little girls begged you? No, they couldn’t even plead for mercy, Brandon. You drugged them. Then you killed them. Every one of them!’ Brandon was crying now, just like he did on the greasy pig day.
Myra pointed at him again, muttering another enchantment. She pointed at him, first at his face then slowly lowering her index finger to his stomach. Brandon saw a white light beaming from her finger. It landed on his stomach and a fire started burning inside.
The screams were long, horrifying, and loud, but no one could hear him now. He was too far away from the city, and the wind always flowed downwards.
Hawthorne Crest, Gallows,
Deborah steered at the crystal ball, white wisps of smoke rising up, forming a small tornado, then settling again. Always the same result. She wished it wasn’t so. That somehow it did not happen under her watch. Only the good lord could help them now.
She reached out and lifted the ball with frail, trembling hands. She felt the icy tickles spreading through her veins. She shook it, several times. Then set it down to watch. And to wait for the smoke to clear. Nothing changed.
Dri wouldn’t be home until late noon. She needed someone to double-check, to make sure that her judgment was not an error. But she was alone. Raymond had gone to town with the truck and would be back until nightfall.
She made the call, she had no choice. She voted safety over regret. She pulled her pink sweater about her, put on a pair of low slippers then walked out to the tower. She had never done this in all her adult years.
Salem had grown and prospered with love and light. She had watched the children playing without fear. Innocent of the world around them, but without fear. She sighed as she stepped onto the wooden staircase.
Her great-grandfather had built this tower and was only used once in three generations. Now, history just had to go and mess things all up. She opened the door and paused to let the dust out. Almost choking on the aroma of time and moth-filled wood and cobwebs with dead insects.
She walked over to the bell and moved her hands over its rusty surface. It was cold. It was one of those elements that magic had not managed to conquer. It was still free to be itself. Cold and solid and lifeless.
She pulled the hanging cord and stepped back to avoid the dust falling into her hair. She should have worn a hat, maybe a bit safer. The rope was still solid, thick, and raveled at the ends.
She opened the only window in the tower and gazed down at the rest of Gallows. The town was asleep, unaware of what she had seen. There was no siren for this horror, no loudspeaker or announcing car. No, it would fall on Salem like a sudden downpour.
She took the rope in her hands again, and this time she let the siren wail all that it could.
Pinkleton Beach, Salem
Alex distanced himself a stone’s throw from Dri. He placed his own cap on his head. ‘This is my Magneto’s helmet, freshly in from California, sold on eBay’ Dri burst out laughing.
He settled down on a nearby coconut trunk. He mused for a bit then looked at her. He gave her the thumbs up and started thinking about the camels he had seen the day before on Nat Geo. He wished he could have one that could understand his commands.
Dri repeated the enchantment as her mother had taught her. She raised her hand, waved it about, and brought it down towards Alex. A pack of cigarettes landed nearby. He bent down and picked up the pack: CAMEL.
She ran to him, almost like a dainty little reindeer. ‘How did I do?’
‘We are not connecting babes, is something on your mind, something we can talk about.’
‘I’m not sure Alex. I feel pretty alright but I can’t transform. I knew exactly what you thought… but I don’t understand.’
‘Cheer up, let’s take a walk over to the park, let’s eat something then we can head home’
She loved bike riding. She enjoyed it when he took her out to the plains and just rode on the dust-filled terrain. Maybe, she thought this could lift my spirit. They rode over to Kroton’s mall and bought lunch in the food court.
A bell sounded in the distance. At first, they paid little attention. But the bell kept sounding- She looked at Alex. ‘¿Could that be my mom?’
‘Must be a mass or a funeral. Why would your mom ring the bell? I doubt it even works. Been there for years.’
She knew Alex was right. There has never been a bell-summoned meeting here in Salem. ‘That bell is sure annoying. He should stop already, no one’s going to miss that mass for sure.’
An elderly lady sitting to her right left her food on her plate, got up quickly, and left. A few moments later, one of the waiters, took his apron off, threw it under the counter, and left.
The bell kept ringing. Most of the people in the food court were too busy talking to notice the distant tolls. It seemed to be calling the town to arms as if there was an army creeping up the shore.
Both teenagers decided to follow suit, mounted the bike, and headed home. After about half an hour the bell died and the silence returned to the Gallows, only drowned out by the sound of the motorbike. They rode in silence, Dri was preoccupied with the possible reason that had her mother rang the Osbig bell.
The last time they summoned a meeting was during the reign of her great-grandmother, Sarah. A band of elves had taken control of Benjamin Smith’s vineyard. There were more Pallids back then. They had united forces with the Magnum estate and had successfully driven back the invaders.
Now it tolled again, what could possibly be wrong in this tourist-rich town? Had there been another body in the Red River? But, over the last two years, there were three bodies and four disappearances. But it was more of a police job, and no bell sang for them.
She was perplexed, unable to fathom any sense from the lengthy bell tolls. She pressed closer to Alex, tightening her hug around his stomach as if it would bring some sort of relief. There were times when his chest was the only solace she had. Moments when her nightmares seem so real, that neither her mother nor father could interpret them.
She whispered to him, singing their favorite love song. ‘I wanna hold you ‘til I die, ‘til we both break and cry, I wanna hold you ‘til the fears in me subside.’
Alex joined her and they sang all the way to Hawthorne Crest.
Hawthorne Crest, March 2021
Deborah was waiting anxiously in the main hall of the guest house. She looked pale and her eyes betrayed the despair that she felt. She had hoped that Dri would understand the bell and obey. After all, one day soon she would take the handle in Salem. She had trained her well, she assured herself. But today the doubts swelled up again, would she be ready?
There had never been an emergency of this magnitude in her life as a Pallid, and she had not been practicing her art frequently enough. Nor were the other four members. Benjamin has never been a part of the hood, he preferred to stay on the sidelines. He was a good wizard, but he had not even waved a wand since Dri was born.
That was sixteen years ago. She had no idea where he kept it. He would surely need it now. How much time did they have she could not even guess, the vision did not specify. But Kasandra could help with more details.
Deborah mused on the thought, did she hear the bell? Would they leave work as they were obligated to do, and put their families at risk in this post-pandemic year when there were almost no jobs?
There was a motorbike approaching now. She hoped, deep inside her soul that it was Dri. She opened the curtains and peered outside. She was disappointed yet filled with joy.
It was Barrington and Kasandra. They had heard the tolls and were here. She respired briefly, feeling a bit better, but unable to get the weight off her shoulders.
Kasandra still wore her work clothes. As she got down from the motorbike she started tying her hair. She was turning forty now but had no children and the doctors had given her little hope. Her husband has been very patient and supportive. That had kept her going, even with an empty womb.
Barrington works with the Salem Rail Road company. He was a driver on the night shift, so obeying the Osbig bell posed no threat to his job. His father Benjamin, was taken from him during the Covid outbreak
a year ago.
They entered and gave Deborah hugs, before sitting down. Deborah offered refreshments to the pair. The maid hastened to honor her mistress’s requests.
‘Did anyone see Paul, do you know if he heard the bell?’ She was hoping that despite the difficult times, he would be brave enough to risk his job. Would he come? He has become a cornerstone of the hood, not even the Magnum Estate had one like him.
He was more than unique, Paul was very reliable and was never late. What kept him? His wife was not a witch, but she was great at mixing potions, she was more than helpful. Deborah was not expecting to see her today, been a regular at school. Their twin children were in class, or so she imagined.
A truck drove into the parking lot. Who could that be, now? Barrington went to the window overlooking the driveway. Two men lowered from the front seats, and Paul came out from the back. He did not recognize either of the two men.
‘Paul’s here,’ he advised the others. ‘brought company. Two unknown’
The men entered the main hall with Paul. He greeted them and made presentations.
‘This here Abel’ he said pointing to the elder of the two. ‘he is an elve who has been living in our midst for the past ten years. I know him well, he has been my neighbor. If you remember sister Deborah, I have spoken of him on many occasions. He has always desired to place his talents with us. As you told me the last time and based on your collective votes, I have brought him with me today.’
Deborah rose to her feet, she gave him the outstretched arm salute and he returned it with the custom bow. ‘We were not expecting you today, Abel, so we have not prepared a ceremony for you. But, we will prepare one later. For now, we will give you the outstretched arms welcome, making you a temporary member. Brethren, please extend your arm of fellowship to Brother Abel.’
They all followed suit and gave him the custom welcome. Once he was seated, they turned back to Paul and the younger man, who was about twenty or maybe younger.
‘During my years at the university, I was rescued from a werewolf by the most amazing wizard that I have ever seen. His name is Kishon, and he is originally from Haiti, he moved here a year ago, as part of the emergency team that Salem Memorial imported from the Caribbean.
‘He has stated his desire to join our hood and being indebted to him, I have invited him to our meeting. I must apologize for my lateness, as I passed by the hospital before coming.’
Deborah stood up once more. She looked Kirshon all over. She felt his spirit but found nothing dark. She was cautious, she knew that there were cleansing rituals that could erase a person’s dark past.
‘Do you mind if our sister Kasandra touched you?’ she had turned to face him. There was a spark in his eyes. Something burning, waiting to be freed. She could feel its presence. What was it?
Kasandra came forward. She smiled at him. ‘Kirshon, I was expecting you to be black, not Latino. No offense, please.’
He smiled back at her. ‘none taken. Go ahead touch me.’
She placed her hand on his shoulder. A bolt jolted through her. She pulled her hand back quickly, but not in time before it threw her to the ground. The hood rose to its feet, wands and fingers pointed at Kirshon.
The Empty Bookstore If you have not yet read Part One of Angel Wings and…
If you have not read Chapter 1, read it here Theda gripped the rail of…
A walk to the bookstore Angels. Some people use them to explain things that have…
Destiny exists. I believe that or else how would you explain the sudden explosion of…
Love was never meant for me. I refused to be loved and have denied the…
The rain killed the fire, and the water rose steadily. Her hands trembled as she…