The Necromancer (12 page)

“What?” he said half audibly.

“How long shall we stay here?”

“Till the celebration. Till Walpurgisnacht. Three fortnights.”

“Wal...?”

“Walpurgisnacht. I shall tell you all about it anon. For now, however, I think it best that we eat dinner and retire early.

We have had a tiring day. We should rest now.”

Ambrose wasn’t one to tire easily, Jessica knew; but she also knew magic was a taxing business, and the demon Ambrose had summoned to take care of the men who showed up to arrest him at his home in Salem Village was a particularly ruthless beast to control. She almost pitied the men who dared to breach the house’s boundaries and unknowingly alert the thing awaiting them, but her loyalty as well as her heart belonged to Ambrose, and she saw any threat to him or their happiness together worthy of destruction. It would only be a matter of time before she could fi gure out a way to remove the threat she felt by Susanna’s presence.

*****

warmed up rapidly, seemingly in conjunction with Susanna’s feelings for Ambrose. It wasn’t what she had wanted, but she had no choice. Every day she spent with him endeared him to her more until she came to the realization that she was in love.

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It was the most bitter-sweet experience she’d ever had.

Even her sister’s death seemed to pale in comparison to this anguish, and she felt all the more terrible for thinking that and knowing it to be true. How could she have allowed herself to fall in love with him—a married man?

After a while, it was so bad that she wept quietly in her bed at night, crying herself to sleep with the images of Ambrose and Jessica coupling in their bedroom upstairs battering her mind.

But the fact was, they weren’t. Having his object of desire in such close proximity had thoroughly squashed all affection toward Jessica, infl aming Jessica’s brooding animosity for Susanna and furthering Ambrose’s urgency to be with her.

But now was not the time. Not yet...but soon.

But Ambrose had to let her know how he felt. That much he could do. He knew she was ready to hear the words.

He knew, but for his relationship with Jessica, she would not object. He had seen her on more than one occasion stealing glances at him with a more than amiable glint in her eyes. He knew she was smitten with him. His pulse raced at the thought.

Finally, his desires were coming to their fruition. He only had to be patient and wait. But for now he would tell her what she meant to him and assure her they would be together.

“Susanna,” he called to her as he descended the stairs.

Susanna was in the kitchen helping Jessica prepare breakfast. They seemed to be getting along better now, but Susanna still suspected Jessica harbored feelings of ill will toward her. She was certain Jessica wasn’t to be trusted.

“Yes, Reverend?” she answered.

“Ambrose,” he said. “I told you to call me Ambrose.

There is no need for formalities.”

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Walpurgisnacht

“I’m sorry...Ambrose.” She felt awkward saying it, but liked the way it rolled off her tongue with an air of intimacy.

Ambrose liked it too, for the same reason; that’s why he insisted she say it. It enhanced the images he had of her in bed beside him after a session of love-making, purring his name into his ears.

“Come,” he said. “I wish to speak with you.”

Susanna looked back at Jessica.

“She can fi nish preparing breakfast. Come. Let us walk.”

Susanna wiped her hands off with a dishrag and

accompanied Ambrose outside.

Jessica slammed the dough she was kneading on the table when she heard the outside door close. She ran to the window. Her mouth curled into a frown as she witnessed Susanna take Ambrose’s arm. Jessica pouted, her chest heaving with sighs, her eyes watering with scorn.

“We have spent much time in each other’s company these past weeks,” Ambrose commented.

“Yes,” Susanna said. “We have.”

“In that time, I have grown ever fond of you.”

“And I of you, Re...Ambrose.”

“Walpurgisnacht is but a fortnight from now.”

“What is this Walpurgisnacht? You never told me what it is.”

“It is a great celebration: of life, and of spring. A wondrous event it is.”

They stopped in the shade of a grove of elm trees and faced each other. They were still in view of the house, allowing Jessica to look on.

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Ambrose took Susanna’s hands in his.

“I have never felt this way with any other woman but one, and she passed away from me many years ago.”

He drew her hands together and raised them to his lips.

“I love you, Susanna,” he said, and gazing into her eyes, kissed her hands. “I love you, and come this Walpurgis Night, I wish to take you as my bride.”

Susanna’s mouth fell open. She couldn’t believe the words he had just spoken. Was it true? Was this man whom she had admired for the past several weeks as wholeheartedly in love with her as he had just said? It didn’t seem possible that he could feel the same way about her as she did about him, but that’s exactly what seemed to be happening.

She felt the blood rush into her face. She didn’t know what to say. She had had fantasies of their being together, but she never expected them to come true. All she could think was that this couldn’t be happening, as much as she wanted it to be
.

But, what about Jessica? Wasn’t he already married to her?

She unlocked her eyes from his and glanced at the house. Jessica was still watching, but Susanna couldn’t see her.

“Jessica...”

“She is not my wife,” Ambrose said. “It is merely an arrangement for the benefi t of others who would assume an unlawful congress taking place between us two. She was orphaned when she was but a child and took to a life of wickedness. I found her in the streets of London prostituting her body to the vile wretches of that city, so I took her in. She is as a daughter to me.”

“But how is it that she appears to behave not as a daughter unto you, but as something more?”

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“It is true. Jessica does have somewhat of an

infatuation with me, but I am fain to describe it not as love, but gratitude for saving her from her former life of depravity.

There is a love between us, but it is a love becoming to a father and daughter.”

This explanation was readily accepted by Susanna, she having so wanted it to be true that further interrogation seemed unnecessary. She was so overwhelmed with joy, it never occurred to her that he might be lying, or that the circumstances of her release from prison and departure from Salem were, at the very least, suspicious.

Susanna was swept away; she was so happy. All reason and common sense had forsaken her. She couldn’t explain it.

She was suddenly elated and fi lled with optimism and joy.

She slid her arms around his neck and searched his eyes with hers. They were beautiful eyes, she thought.

“I love you, also,” she said, then rose up on her toes to meet his lips with her own.

The kiss was intoxicating and blotted out the rest of the world. Her legs weakened and her knees buckled, but Ambrose held her up close to him and kept her from falling. A nervous tension built up in the pit of her stomach. Her body trembled. She was certain Ambrose would have to carry her back to the house because she wouldn’t have the energy to walk back herself.

The kiss broke. Susanna was out of breath but felt an urgency to say, “I will be a good wife to you, Ambrose. I only hope I am able to please you as much as you have just pleased me.”

“It is all I could ask of you, dearest,” he said, then pressed her head against his chest as they embraced again.

“You have already made me a very happy man.”

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Jessica huffed, turned away from the window, and stormed back into the kitchen.

*****

The weeks leading up to this night passed quickly, but not without some diffi culties, most of which were created by Jessica’s jealousy and her inability to accept the fact that Ambrose was in love with Susanna and never with her.

He hadn’t slept with her since the day they fi rst arrived at the house—almost two fortnights. This was strange behavior for Ambrose, who had the desire for coitus daily and often more frequently than that. The longest Jessica ever had to wait between congresses was two days, and after that the sex would be exhausting and intense. Ambrose’s desire to take her had lessened since he fi rst met Susanna; now it seemed nonexistent.

He now spent his nights sleeping in a room down

the hall from
her
—two doors closer to Susanna’s chamber.

Jessica had so desperately wanted to visit him in the night, but she knew better. She knew the outrage that would follow such presumptions. Ambrose could have a nasty temper when the mood took him. She had seen this temper before...and knew its consequences. She had seen him change drastically in seconds from an amiable gentleman to a brutal, callous, abusive tyrant, capable of dispatching his offender with speed and skill without once blinking; without remorse. Jessica had witnessed this fi rst hand back in London when a man made a tasteless remark concerning her reputation. They had been walking pleasantly along arm in arm one minute; the next, Ambrose was throttling the man in the gutter until his thumbs had crushed the man’s windpipe and burrowed into his blood-sputtering throat.

Of course, she didn’t believe he would ever harm her, but neither did she wish to test his temper. She had had words 110

Walpurgisnacht

with Susanna, and at one time those words had come to blows, but Ambrose was nearby and quickly intervened, displaying more than a little irritation toward her. She loved him, but what could she do? He was already angry with her and wouldn’t stand for any more outbursts. All she could do was watch as he grew further away from her.

She lay curled up in bed, distraught and pondering her dilemma when she noticed him standing in the doorway looking at her. She sat up.

“Come,” he said, swirling wine in the silver chalice he held. “The time has come. Summon Susanna and meet me downstairs.”

He left without waiting for an acknowledgement of his commands.

Several minutes later, Jessica and Susanna arrived downstairs. Ambrose sat on a large brown divan at the far end of the room sipping his wine, half cloaked in shadows cast by the solitary light source of the room, a large black candle with a bluish fl ame. The candle was mounted in a tarnished silver candlestick standing on the mantelpiece off to Ambrose’s left, and the light its sleepy fl ame cast gave the room a starkness and ambiance that made it seem vast and mysterious.

Ambrose wore a plain black robe, as did Jessica; Susanna wore a white one. A large white circle had been drawn outside a slightly smaller one on the fl oorboards. Cabalistic symbols were inscribed between them. The fl oor inside the circles was covered with a variety of colorful pillows and blankets. Susanna didn’t know what to make of this, but her puzzlement was soon dismissed when her eyes locked with Ambrose’s, as they always did now whenever she encountered him.

He rose to his feet, not breaking this gaze. He moved slowly, almost groggily, as if he were already heavily intoxicated 111

The Necromancer

by the wine. As he approached her, Susanna felt herself entering a listless state of wakeful dreaming although she still felt very much alert.

“Drink,” he said softly when he stopped before her and proffered the cup.

Susanna accepted the offering and sipped. It was a dark red wine with a bitter under taste. It went down warm.

She could feel it acting on her rapidly. She swooned. Her eyes drooped. Her whole body felt limp and heavy, warm dullness blunting her senses. She fainted into his arms.

She awoke to the sensation of warm grease being rubbed into the skin of her legs, breasts, and belly. She opened her eyes. She and Ambrose and Jessica were lying naked in the midst of the circle. Jessica chronically dipped her hands into an earthen vessel fi lled with unguent and applied it to Susanna’s body and her own. Ambrose did the same. The grease made her feel strange, more intoxicated, yet more aware.

“What is happening?” she asked, bewildered.

“We are preparing for the Sabbat,” Jessica replied dreamily.

“What is this?” Susanna said, glancing at the bowl Jessica held.

“Ambrose...” She turned to him on her opposite side.

“All is well, Susanna,” he said, rubbing some ointment over one of her breasts. “Relax. Close your eyes. I love you, and all is well.”

Susanna did as he said, and upon doing so experienced intense vibrations in the back of her head. Suddenly, she became aware of the fact that her body had become rigid. She couldn’t move.

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Ambrose and Jessica also began to feel the effects of the ointment, and both lay down on either side of Susanna and soon became as rigid as she was.

The vibrations were stronger now and fi lled their heads and echoed in their ears.

Susanna was terrifi ed, but couldn’t speak. It was as if she were dead, but still conscious. Consciousness was not abandoning her, but this world was. She could feel it, or herself—she couldn’t tell which—slipping away, drifting apart from each other. A sensation spread across her body, feeling like fl oating slowly to the top of a pond and breaking the mossy skin at the surface of the water. But she was in no pond. This was happening to her; to her body. It was separating from itself. She could feel it. She could feel her toes and fi ngers extending past themselves; a tickling in her chest; a light, fl oating sensation. Somehow, she knew her body was still perfectly intact as it had always been, but the sensation was unmistakable. She was being pulled out of her fl esh. Her consciousness or spirit was leaving her body, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.