Salem Moon (17 page)

Turning back to him, she touched the locket
and looked
down at it. How beautiful it was
;
made of the finest gold, small and delicate, resting in the hollow of her throat.

“
Thank you,
”
she said.

“
This locket was my mother
’
s. I want you to have it and think of me whenever you lay your hand upon it. It is very special, as was she.
”

“
It looks…like an antique and…it belongs to your mother? Is this okay with her? I don
’
t know if I can accept this gift, Gabriel.
”

Gabriel reached out and touched the locket with one hand and tilted her chin upwards, so that once again, their lips were inches apart.

“
My mother is no longer with me;
she died when I was born,
”
he whispered. She could hear the sadness in his soft voice.

“
Oh, Gabriel, I am
so
sorry! I had…no idea that she was…
”

“
Shh.
”
He put his index finger to her lips.
“
There is a reason I want you to take this gift...I do not give it lightly, nor do I give my heart easily, but…for you, I
give you my heart
and…
my life as well. I love you, Lily,
”
he whispered this last as his lips again lightly caressed hers.

“
I…don
’
t know why and I don
’
t really care. You
’
re a Blackstone and I shouldn
’
t feel the way I do, but I can
’
t deny it. I cannot deny you. I love you, Gabriel
,
with all my heart. I accept your gift. You
’
ll never see a time when the locket is not laying upon my throat
.
I will keep it forever.
”

As Gabriel closed his eyes midway through the next tender kiss, he noticed something he hadn
’
t before. He could not detect any sign of Lucien
,
whatsoever. He did not care where he was
.
This
was their moment not be shared with anyone.

L
ucien was at that very moment with Lilac, whom he had taken to
“
the secret place
”
as promi
sed. The spot was alien and yet,
familiar somehow. How she
’
d gotten here, she couldn
’
t fully remember. Only tidbits of memories, Lucien
’
s gentle touch upon her eye lids, telling her to close them and after that, a soft breeze billowing all around her. The air, chilly at first, gradually changed, became heavier, more humid: a southern breeze, quite different from those of the north.

The smell of must and mold was pungent. Underlying these scents were many other unfamiliar ones. She caught the
aroma
of flowers. They smelled almost sickeningly sweet and cloying. She smelled things that were old and rotted and decaying
. P
erhaps old wood
? But she knew the
odor
most likely came from
dead things, left in this forlorn and forgotten place for what might have been ages.

Her
entire
body was soaked with a light mist of sweat.

This all-encompassing dampness was characteristic of the south. It reminded her of the trip to New Orleans, Louisiana she
’
d made with her mother a month ago. She remembered the slow decay
in
some parts of the city. Yet, it was still wonderfully decadent to her. Was that where she was? If so how did she get so far from home in such a short period of time?

Then she remembered feeling as if she were flying through those gentle breezes, weightless and surrounded by something soft, cushioning her, something that felt like the soft feathers of a thousand birds.

She was in a room cloaked in darkness and shadow. Long, heavy drapes, disintegrating and yellowed with age hung from large, filthy windows letting little to no light in.

Where was Lucien? And why had he taken her to such a
place?

As her eyes became accustomed to the gloom, she saw him standing in a corner, silently watching her
.

“
Lucien?
”
she called out, feeling a little bit frightened of him now.

He walked slowly out into the center of the room. The rotting boards creaked beneath his footsteps and then he was taking her hand and lifting her from the floor, so swiftly
,
the movement itself
,
undetected.
No human being
could possibly move that fast
, she thought.

As he took her hand and brought her to him, he looked deeply into her eyes. Her heart leapt with a mixture of desire and fear. How very extraordinary was his beauty
.
Lilac had always thought of men in terms of handsome, hot or cute, but never as
“
beautiful.
”
However, there really was no other way to describe Lucien.

His golden streaked hair fell in soft waves to his shoulders in a natural and unruly way.
Very sensuous
, she thought. His jaw was strong, his lips full, the slight indent just under his nose begged to be kissed. But his eyes, even in a perfect face such as his
, they stood out. T
he blue of them was as deep and calming as the Caribbean Sea, and yet as turbulent as that same sea during a
storm
. They were his true means of seduction.
No one
could deny him!

She wanted him badly, and not just for a quick sexual encounter. She wanted him to take her
right then and there
. To do to her whatever he wished
;
to be totally
owned
by him. Her entire being ached in anticipation of being utterly and completed ravaged by him. And yet, at the same time she feared him. The excitement of desire
mixed
with fear was totally irresistible!

He led her through a large open doorway, its frame chipped and rotted with age, beyond which lay a large bedroom. This room was also in a state of decay, and caked with filth. In the center was a large brass bed, the linens soiled with many unidentifiable stains.

“
Where are we, Lucien?
”
Lilac asked breathless
with
fear and yearning. An involuntary shiver ran through her as she looked around
the
wretched place.

“
We are in the deepest recesses of the south. And this…house, an old and long forgotten plantation on the outskirts of a swamp. No one comes here anymore. It
is not
easily found. Perhaps, no one alive today even knows it exists. But
I
knew and I promised to take you to a secret place, did I not?
”

“
Yeah, you did but…how did we get here? Are we somewhere in…Louisiana? I remember the smell of the air and…
”
Lilac stopped talking. She gasped when she turned to find Lucien
’
s eyes not just fixed, but
locked
on hers. It was unnerving, the way his eyes drilled into hers
, revealing his
lust
for her
, a mocking smile
playing
upon his lips.

“
Does it matter where we are, or how you got here? Ah, my love, you shall be my first taste of the flesh in this century. I will seduce you as no other has or could, not like the foolish boys and
the
frenzied sexual encounters of your past. No, I will show you how a man
really
seduces a woman. For, I am more than a man, and slightly less than a God. I am like no other. I will tantalize and tease every part of your body so that your desire will be so great as to become agony and you will cry out  for me to take you, that you can wait no longer for it!
”

S
itting in the Blackstone
s
’
impressive library, Gabriel and Lawrence sat with a stack of papers, articles and other relics on the large oak desk in front of them. The promised history of the family was laid out
t
here
,
all 300
years of it. Although, some were damaged by moisture and age, most were sealed in protective wrap.

“
Our ancestors go back to the days of the Salem witch trials, as you know. At the time, the
Blackstones
were well liked and respected. Dr. Samuel Blackstone and his wife Mary were some of the very first to settle in the region and they allegedly had two children, twins. But the history indicates they had only one child, a girl, Abigail Blackstone. The birth had been difficult and Mary died in the process. Her husband was devastated. Yet he never became bitter toward his child. Many men neglected and even hated the children they
’
d lost their wives to in childbirth. Death during childbirth was not uncommon back then, not like today.

“
Dr. Blackstone was the finest veterinarian in the entire region and he invested much of his money in obtaining land, which was dirt cheap back then. He bought it from
both the
English and Indians.

“
By
1683
, he owned approximately one half of all the land in Salem Village and in Salem Town, what is now Danvers and Ipswich. There
’
s a deed here that indicates that he owned some property in Newburyport as well. But, because the deed was never notarized and is barely legible, no Blackstone has been able to claim it,
”
Lawrence explained.

Gabriel felt strange listening to this man describe his own family to him. He felt like weeping for his loss, the pain of it coming back to him hot and fresh and terrible. He realized that he had not had time to grieve for them. For Lawrence, the stor
y he told was over 300
years old, but for Gabriel, it had happened only a fortnight ago.

Lawrence Blackstone was looking at Gabriel curiously, with a measure of concern, but he went on with the tale.

“
They had a good life in all, father and daughter until a charge of witchcraft was made against Abigail by two brothers; Thomas and Joshua Snow. It
’
s very likely that Thomas
sexually assaulted
Abigail on the night before her trial and subsequent hanging, can you imagine?

“
At the very time of the hanging, Dr. Blackstone was imprisoned.
First, in his home and later he was put in jail.
He was not there when his beloved daughter died. He was never told where they
’
d taken her remains for burial. To this day, no one has knowledge about her final resting place
.
”

Lawrence produced a small leather note book from the sheath of protective plastic it was kept in and handed it to Gabriel.

“
This is the actual diary of Dr. Blackstone which he kept in prison until the day he died.
”
Lawrence handled the diary with utmost care
.

Gabriel took it in his hands and even as he felt sick to his stomach, he felt a sense of awe.  And as he opened it he recognized the handwriting at once.
These words were written in his father
’
s own hand!
The diary was without a doubt authentic
.
He began to read.

“
God in Heaven how can you allow such a travesty of justice? To take them from me, all of them and leave me nothing but a useless, broken heart. I have nothing left
.
The hysteria surrounding Salem must be stopped, but how? I hate them all! I know that is not what our Lord teaches us, but I cannot help myself
.
And now, they come with food and drink for me, which I will not take. I will die before I touch anything that comes from their hands. The very hands that threw stones at my children, that set the noose for Abigail. And again they come with their papers for my signature
. They
want the last of what I have
,
my land. The deeds already signed by the buyer, Richard Snow
, that
horrid man and his terrible family
.
And to think, he was given the right to purchase it because his sons had done well in finding witches in the village, helping to eliminate the plague they brought upon Salem
.
Damn them all to Hell
.
I tore the papers into tiny bits and threw them right in the faces of the witch judge, the magistrate and Richard Snow himself
.
”