The Hexed (Krewe of Hunters)

There had been cults at work in Eastern and Western Europe, arising almost simultaneously with Christianity itself. Of course, primitive peoples around the world had practiced blood sacrifice. Percy Ainsworth had found that in the 1500s—even as the so-called “burning times” were taking hold—a secret group called the Strega of Satan had been recruiting followers worldwide. According to Ainsworth, they might have come together in self-defense, on the theory that if a man was going to be accused of witchcraft, he might as well be a witch, practice some black magic and see what it got him.

 

Rumor had it that in the early 1500s the first European Inquisitors had come out of Spain and Italy—six exceptionally vicious men who had been known to rip people to shreds on the rack, pierce them, skin them and leave them hanging from the gibbets to be eaten by crows. After that, the number six had become the acceptable sacrifice to Satan to win his protection. Six was also the basis of the devil’s sign: 666.

 

Fragments from journals kept by those who were members of the Strega of Satan confirmed that the followers who delivered up unto their master the blood of six innocents would find what they sought: lives free from fear, filled with riches and a place in the house of Satan when they died, where wine, women and all earthly pleasures would be theirs for eternity.

 

After a while the words on the page began to blur. He yawned, stood and stretched, then walked over to check on Poe. The bird appeared to be peacefully sleeping.

 

He walked around the house, checking all the locks again. When he returned to the parlor he saw Mina standing there, smiling beatifically.

 

“I’m here, so go to sleep,” she told him.

 

“Thank you,” he said.

 

Mina wagged a finger at him. “And don’t let anything happen to her.”

 

“I won’t. I swear,” he said.

 

“Get on then, go to bed.”

 

Who was he to argue with a ghost?

 

*

 

Maybe it was because Auntie Mina had made her think about The Wizard of Oz. Whatever, Devin’s mind had gone into theater mode.

 

She slept easily—not as easily as when she was curled up against Rocky, but easily enough, knowing he was near. And in her dreams, she was at the theater.

 

Perhaps the first play should have been The Scarlet Letter or The Crucible. But she had gone into the Shakespearean realm instead.

 

Macbeth.

 

Three witches stood over a cauldron, stirring away. “Double, double toil and trouble.”

 

Then the Shakespearean part was over as the witches turned to look at something glowing red in the background. They bowed and scraped, and the steam issuing from their great cauldron took on a misty red hue...a crimson glow, as if blood had painted the very air. Then the red mist began to fade, and Devin saw what the witches had been staring at. A giant, horned goat-god, crimson and terrifying, perched upon a throne with a staff in his hand.

 

Satan, as the Puritans had envisioned him.

 

The crones continued to bow and scrap before the devil. Then they offered up chalices filled with the molten red liquid from their cauldron.

 

Fire burn, and cauldron bubble....

 

The words resonated in Devin’s ears.

 

And then, one by one, the witches spoke.

 

“For life eternal.”

 

“Riches eternal.”

 

“Luck and love eternal.”

 

The giant red goat-god stood and took the offerings. He began to move, and Devin saw herself as if from above, sitting in the audience, watching, and yet, as she watched...

 

The goat-god turned to her.

 

And smiled.

 

She woke with a start, gasping for air.

 

She was in her own room, of course, and she realized she hadn’t screamed or Rocky would have been there already, no doubt with his gun drawn. A glow through the curtains told her that the sun was rising.

 

She stood up, walked to the windows and opened the drapes. She could see the garden, wilted from the summer heat, the little stone path that led to the road...

 

And the forest off to the left.

 

Someone, she thought with complete certainty—and not the innocents who had died—had been practicing black magic in Salem.

 

And they had gotten away with murder.

 

*

 

The rest of the Krewe arrived just as Devin and Rocky began making breakfast.

 

She had told him about her dream, and Auntie Mina had materialized to listen in, then told her to study her dreams, because dreams were often a result of the subconscious mind trying to put together what the conscious mind was also attempting to puzzle out. And then Devin’s stomach had growled. Embarrassed, she said it was clearly time for breakfast.

 

Luckily she had shopped recently. When she’d told him she was going to make omelets—her forte—and he’d told her the Krewe was coming early and they should go somewhere, she’d been able to smile and tell him they had plenty of food. He put on coffee, worked the toaster and dealt with the bacon, while she whipped up fluffy omelets filled with cheese, veggies and bacon to order.

 

As they ate, everyone reported that the night had been quiet.

 

“Have you spoken to Jack? Were they able to find out anything about the attack on Beth Fullway?” Sam asked.

 

“I’ll call him after breakfast, but I’m pretty sure they’ve come up empty,” Rocky said. “If they had anything, Jack would have called me.”

 

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