Salem's Daughters (28 page)

Chapter 44              Strong Magic

Emily tried to make sense of her desperate situation. She didn’t know where she was. The shaman-like powers Indian Joe used were far beyond anything she had experienced over her four centuries. The terrifying screams of Annie, Chloe, and Jacqueline howling in undiluted panic for her help only added to the confusion.

To further intensify their plight, her abilities, along with her sisters, were useless in the steely interlaced threads. For one short second, Emily chided herself for not having Madelyn research spiritual matters in addition to the scientific.

They had four centuries to do so. Emily and her following were professionals in her own tight knit realm. But now, she was thrust out of her element. She was completely ignorant and at the mercy of a foe she damn sure should have been prepared for.

Emily had to summon the cats roaming Murcat Manor. They were her only option. But would her sisters be able to hear her telepathic beseeching?

“Rebecca. Scarlett. Isabella,” she screamed at her leaders.

“What is it?” a faint utterance echoed. Emily couldn’t discern what direction it came. But it was clear the voice belonged to Rebecca.

“We’ve got trouble.”

“I’ll say. We can hear the ruckus up here. Great job. Whatever it is you’re doing in the basement, don’t stop.”

“Listen to me.” The horror and intensity in her voice was good. If her leaders could hear her, they’d understand the urgency.

“It’s Indian Joe. He’s using a strange magic. He’s ripped our souls from our bodies. We’re no longer in the basement.”

Rebecca’s voice was now clear. “Where are you?”

“I’m not sure where we are. Somewhere between you and the Netherworld. We’re trapped in some kind of sticky netting. Indian Joe’s going to kill me along with Annie, Chloe, and Jacqueline. Only Helen and Scarlett are left alive in the basement.”

Screaming filled her ears. Rebecca wailed over the news Annie her sister was gone.

“Rebecca. Get control of yourself. We’re going to die if you don’t help. That includes Annie.”

Emily wasn’t sure if the others could hear her over Rebecca’s mournful banshee screams. Her worst fear, beside the shadowy human-like figure approaching with a very long knife, was Rebecca setting Murcat Manor on fire and killing any chance she had of returning home.

“Somebody shut Rebecca up. Now!”

An instant later there was silence.

“Rebecca’s under control,” Isabella said. “I gave her a vision of Indian Joe’s trap you described. She’s now focusing on how she can help. Rebecca’s ready. We’re all ready.”

“Isabella. You, Rachel and Angel are guarding The Frontiersman. You have to get inside. Indian Joe’s soul is here. But his body is in his room. You have to get in there and kill him right now.”

“I’m leaving my body now,” Rachel said. “I’ll teleport into his room. But there’s nothing I can do except give a report what’s happening inside. I need Helen to unlock the door for the others to come in.”

“I’m on my way up now,” Helen said. “I’m dodging the crew of lunatics down here in the basement and running up the stairs into the kitchen. I’ll be with you in seconds.”

To Emily’s left, the ghostly shade of gray approached a struggling and screaming Annie. His visage became clearer the closer he came. The outline was that of an older man. But he was in great shape. Broad shoulders. Thin waist. Strong sinewy arms gripping his long knife with surety.

After four hundred years of living a disembodied existence, she had forgotten what her sisters had looked like. Annie. Tall and thin. Light complexion. Her narrow face framed by the blackest of long straight hair. She and her sister Rebecca were beautiful in their human lives.

“Don’t do it,” Emily cried out. “What do you want from us? We’ll leave Murcat Manor. Just let us go.”

Indian Joe let loose a mocking laugh. “No. You won’t. You are who you are. It’s in your blood. You’ll eventually kill undeserving people again. I’m the only one who can stop this generational curse of madness.”

Emily cried out. “Anyone, I need an update. What’s going on? We’re going to die here.”

“We’re in,” Helen said. “Wow! This place looks like a museum of Indian artifacts of every sort. I see Indian Joe. He’s lying on his bed. He’s in a white leather-skinned outfit of some kind. His hands are folded on his chest. Incense is burning and there are crazy native relics all over the room.”

“Specifically,” Madelyn said. “I see Soul Catchers. These are the prominent items. Some are as large as a flower vase. Others are small. It looks like he’s placed them in a strategic pattern facing the four corners of the Earth. It’s as if he’s cast a net across Murcat Manor.”

“Stay low. You don’t want to get caught up in—”

More screaming. It came from Helen. “It’s Angel. She fell over. I think she’s dead. Just like Annie, Chloe, and Jacqueline in the basement.”

Emily saw a female figure approaching, spinning out of control. It was Angel. She crashed into the net next to the others still yelling and struggling to free themselves.

“Ah, I see my Soul Catchers have caught one more of you. In a few minutes, most if not all of you will be here. And I will destroy you one by one. Starting with this one.”

Indian Joe was now upon them. He stood in front of Annie and raised his knife. Emily tried to force herself between them, but she only became more entangled.

“Don’t you touch me,” Annie spat, trying to kick at the shaman. “Get the hell away.”

Indian Joe shouted something in a native tongue Emily didn’t recognize. He let fly with a vicious sweep of his arm. He didn’t gut Annie, as Emily expected. Rather, he cut the netting holding her left wrist.

A few more skillful thrusts and swipes of his knife, and Annie floated off. At first, it was a slow and graceful freefall. Seconds later, she picked up speed, tumbling end over end, off into the darkness, like being sucked into a vacuum. Her humanlike appearance disappeared, her screams following, muffled and absorbed into the dark silence.

Emily tried to calm the others trapped in the net. But the fear and mayhem prevented her from communicating anything to them. Here, trapped in the bowels of the Soul Catcher, they were utterly powerless.

“Do not be concerned regarding your friend. She’s gone now.”

“Isabella. Talk to me. What’s happening in the Frontiersman Room?”

“Esther’s trying to charge some of the objects around his body and explode them. Rebecca’s working on a small fire to burn his brain.”

“And—”

“Nothing. He’s using a magic we don’t know about. We’ll be able to break through eventually. The question is, can we do it before we’re all caught in his Soul Catchers.”

Indian Joe moved on to Jacqueline, slicing his way through the netting holding her. She soon followed Annie,
screaming into the dark abyss. He then moved on to Chloe.

“Hurry. Do something. Or he’ll kill us all.”

As Jacqueline disappeared, another female figure appeared on the horizon, then slammed into the netting to Emily’s right.

It was Rachel.

“So,” Indian Joe said, so much more interested in Rachel that he left Chloe and bypassed Emily and the rest and moved on to her. He marveled as he studied the newcomer.

“You have the ability to leave your body and travel around in just your soul. Rare is the person who can do this and successfully reenter their body, although this made it that much easier for my Soul Catcher to capture you.”

“It’s impossible,” Helen said frantically. “And I feel the pull. I think I’ll be next. What do we do?”

Emily racked her brain. She needed more time.

“We have to do something different. You’ve all tried your abilities. But he’s blocked them. Madelyn, use your logic. It’s up to you.”

“I’m a step ahead of you.”

“I hope so.”

“We haven’t seen this magic. I have heard tell of it, the Native Americans had shamans—medicine men—and Indian Joe is obviously one with what is called ‘strong medicine’. But the real trick, I believe, is this is all a diversion. He wants us to waste our time here. What we see lying in the bed is not Indian Joe. It’s a hologram of sorts. A technique where—”

“
English
,” Rebecca shouted.

“It’s an illusion. He wants us to stay here so he can capture our souls. All the while preserving his body.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Think about it. Why would he risk his body? He knows if we find and destroy it, he dies and we live. Clearly, this is a diversion.”

“So where is his body?” Rebecca demanded.

“In the only place it can be safely stored. Remember, he’s the one who recommended Bob and Debbie leave Murcat Manor tonight and go see a movie. So, logically, his body is in their bedroom.”

Emily watched helplessly as Indian Joe fronted Rachel. He gripped the leather bound handle with both hands and held his knife high, almost in a sacrificial manner. He wasn’t laughing or mocking his prey. The shaman was all business. This was his mission.

“Get down there. Now! He’s about to cut Rachel loose.”

It took less than fifteen seconds until Emily heard Madelyn’s voice again.

“We’re here outside Bob’s bedroom door,” Rebecca said. “But we can’t penetrate the animal door. Indian Joe must have a spell on it. He’s prepared we’d figure out his trick. We’re trying. Believe me. But we can’t get in.”

Emily was beside herself. Strange magic. Strong medicine. A supernatural barrier. No time to figure out how to get past it. Emily stopped struggling and tried to catch her breath.

Indian Joe had won.

She watched as he swung his long knife. Rachel was freed of the soul catcher. She spun off into the darkness, screaming madly like Annie and Jacqueline before her.

“Wait,” Madelyn said. “Indian Joe probably didn’t have a lot of time to prepare. He arrived twelve hours earlier. I think he’s using smoke and mirrors.”

“What are you talking about?” Emily cried out.

“I bet he only covered the animal door with a spell. I doubt he thought about us using the doorknob since we lack opposable digits. Helen, quick—unlock the deadbolt and doorknob.”

The telepathic connection between the cats was clear. Emily heard a few clicks from the tumblers inside the locks, the doorknob turning, and the door creaking open.

“We’re in. He’s on the bed. And this time, I’m positive that’s really his body. There are soul catchers here along with other artifacts. We’ll have to take our chances and take him out.”

Emily watched as Indian Joe cut Angel loose. Four of her sisters were banished to the Netherworld. She was next. Her cousin Chloe would follow. She closed her eyes and braced for the inevitable.

The steely bands that bound her wrists and ankles melted away. She began to feel the sensation of a slow rolling fall. Her legs were above her head. Then she felt upright.

But instead of being consumed with fear, a smile formed. Indian Joe had not cut the bands that bound her. They’d simply ceased to exist. Her sisters had succeeded. She wasn’t destined for the Netherworld. Rather, she was going home. As was her cousin, Chloe.

Madelyn had cracked the code, as she liked to say. Emily wasn’t sure what that meant. It was a technical term only Madelyn cared to understand. And that was okay, she thought, as she opened her eyes to see Indian Joe soaring off in the opposite direction with a look of total shock.

Madelyn, the shy one who shunned the spotlight, was the heroine today.

Chapter 45              Home Again

Emily tumbled, feeling like her insides were crawling up her throat. She still had no idea which way was up or where she had been. Indian Joe had not revealed those specifics. But he was gone and she was free, as was Chloe.

Emily picked up speed. She was sucked into a space devoid of matter that could only be a portal to her feline body. A bittersweet thought overwhelmed her. She was happy to be alive. But in a few moments she would have to explain to her sisters why she failed to save Annie, Jacqueline, Rachel, and Angel.

But what would be the most troubling; telling Rebecca her sister Annie was not returning—she was trapped in the Netherworld and would have to wait until their seventh life to come back.

Her velocity increased. For an instant she wondered where Indian Joe would end up. Obviously, he was not coming back to join his earthly fleshy body. He could go to a much better place. Or a far worse one. Emily wasn’t sure and she didn’t care.

Her sisters won the battle with an exceptional Indian shaman-warrior. He had generations of mystical magic on his side which neither she nor the others recognized. They’d gotten lucky, Emily knew, thanks entirely to an unexpected outcome.

Emily would bestow much honor upon Madelyn, who used logic rather than magic to gain the victory. This honorable attention, of course, the introvert of the clan would shun.

Images were blurred as she hurtled toward her realm within the bowels of Murcat Manor. She took one last look at her fingers and toes, which she had not seen in four hundred years. After a few wiggles of her pink appendages and a brief giggle, her time apart from her physical feline form was over.

Muffled voices became distinct. Colors separated. Individuals took their own unique forms. Up ahead, is that Denise Forsythe? And is she holding my cat body?

Emily crash landed into her corpse. The collision was violent and almost as agonizing as when she was tore from her body. She fought to keep from passing out. But she was in.

She needed to put on her skin. Emily couldn’t breathe, which didn’t help her stay conscious. If she didn’t fit into her cat body in a swift and proper hurry, she would suffocate.

Emily felt around with her right foot and found an opening. She slid into the right leg of her carcass. The fit was snug. She put her left leg in with one quick smooth movement and tried to maneuver it. She was groggy from the impact, but Emily felt as if her soft furry little hind paws could move.

A male voice echoed in her head. It was clearer than the muffled noises a few moments ago.

“Look, its foot moved. I thought you said it was dead.”

“Of course it’s dead,” followed Denise’s condescending voice. “Just like the other cats on the work bench. Guys, keep the cameras on me. And forget about my levitating hair. Focus in on this lifeless cat.”

Denise held Emily’s body high in the air, like a warrior presenting a hard earned victorious prize to a cheering crowd.

“Hmph. Not much of a leader,” she said to the cameras. “I bet she died of fright. Just like a scaredy-cat. Get it? Scaredy-cat?”

Having Denise hold her body was unacceptable, Emily thought. But the mocking? Making jokes for the cameras at her expense?  What’s she doing now?

Tossing me up and down in her hand like some rag doll? Oh hell, no. I don’t think so.

Emily shoved both arms into the limp cat’s sleeves. She thrust her face into the lifeless fur-lined shell of the head and was now all the way in. She gulped a deep lungful of air. Her insides came to life. Energy flowed outward from her lungs and heart, spreading through her internal organs. Her senses connected her to the world with each successive breath.

Her muscles twitched, sporadic at first, then with a symphony of movements. Emily was alive. She screamed and jumped. It was all pure instinct.

One moment she’s laying limp in Denise’s hands looking up into two cameras shoved in her face. The next, Denise Forsythe’s drop dead sexy face of
American Ghost Stories
let out a blood clotting scream. Emily’s claws dug, slashed and gashed into the entertainer’s face.

Emily’s head and eyes were now level with television hostess. She saw the cable emcee’s unadulterated terror and shock at the sight of Emily now alive, along with what must be unspeakable pain as her claws gouged in deeper, her one-inch curved nails penetrating all the way to Denise’s cheekbones.

She clamped her teeth down on Denise’s nose with a savage blood-drawing bite, then yanked her claws from her face, making sure to rip some flesh.

Time to split. And fast. The element of surprise had given Emily time to inflict immense pain and terror. But she wasn’t about to wait for the counter attack. Emily scampered off as Denise began flailing her arms and kicking her legs in a mad frenzy.

Emily had to run upstairs. To tarry meant certain death at the hands of an enraged psycho-diva. She was followed by Chloe,
who’d also entered her physical cat body.
Scarlett, the only cat in the basement other than Helen who had escaped the Soul Catcher, followed. The three ran through the legs of the Goths and Vamps at the top of the basement stairs and through the animal door into Bob and Debbie’s bedroom.

There on the bed, surrounded by Madelyn, Esther, Helen, and Midnight was Indian Joe. The mood was solemn. Not because Indian Joe lay silent, but because of their fallen sisters. Rebecca sat on Indian Joe’s chest, her head hung low, their noses almost touching. Emily knew she was crying.

Madelyn broke the awkward silence. “He’s dressed in funeral clothes, and in a way that is open where his spirit can depart his body. While he was alive, I suspect there were spells that would keep all of us from approaching except Rebecca, who can start fires.”

Emily was confused. “Why would he do that?”

“I believe he planned to kill as many of us as possible. But clearly, Indian Joe didn’t think he would kill all thirteen of us. He expected one would kill him. Since Rebecca is now sitting on his chest, he chose her as the one to lead him into the afterlife.”

“By fire?” Emily said.

“More specifically, cremation. A common rite of passage into the afterlife practiced by many Native American tribes.”

“Is it safe to go up there now,” Emily asked.

“Oh yes. He’s very much dead.”

“How did it happen?”

“I sizzled his brain,” Rebecca said in a low somber tone. “Like Madelyn said, Indian Joe knew he would die tonight. He discerned some of our powers and, according to his ancient customs, thought I should be the one to kill him. But, instead of consuming the bed in flames, I decided to go internally and cook the inside of his head. Who knows, without cremating his body, he may be floating in purgatory forever. Serves him right for killing my sister, Annie.”