A Salem Awakening

Chapter 16

Willa opened the door and saw Mr. Putnam, who looked flabbergasted. "Good day, Mr. Putnam. What a pleasant surprise. What can we do for you?" She paused briefly and continued with a higher pitch and more tension in her voice. "And, if you're not at school, where is Abigail? Is she all right?" When he heard that last question and the worry in Willa's voice, Samuel looked up and became concerned about his daughter, considering the gravity of the situation.

William stammered. "Uh, yes. Abigail is just fine. Um, she went to Christina Anderson's house to help her get caught up with her classwork." Samuel's shoulders lowered as he calmed down with the explanation Abigail was all right.

Willa responded, "Oh, that's very nice. Thank you for letting us know. Please, won't you come in?"

William paused before entering. If Samuel was the one to invite him in instead of Willa, he would be wary. But he knew Willa so well he did not have the same concern. Still, he could not make sense of what he just heard, and he was feeling lightheaded and hot.

"Yes, uh, thank you," he said while walking through the doorway. Samuel stood and nodded to William. "Hello," is all he could muster to say. It was not the most welcoming greeting he ever provided, but he was concerned about their visitor.

"So what brings you by today, Mr. Putnam?" Willa inquired. "Surely you didn't come all this way just to tell us Abigail is at the Anderson's, did you?"

"No, that's right. I wanted to speak with you both about...." William paused and scratched his forehead, pushing his hat back a bit in the process – the hat he forgot to remove upon entering their house because his mind was elsewhere. "I'm sorry. I apologize for eavesdropping, but when I was approaching your house, I overheard the strangest conversation. It sounded like you were speaking of.... I'm almost too embarrassed to say it, but it sounded like you were speaking of witchcraft. Surely I'm not correct."

Samuel turned, slowly stepped to the back of the room, and began pacing, looking at the floor and rubbing his chin.

"Why Mr. Putnam, whatever do you think you heard?" Willa did not consider denying it, though it was likely her best option.

"It sounds crazy, I know. But I heard you speak of bloodlines and covens."

Samuel turned his head toward William, trying to process his intent. He crossed the room toward the front door, still deep in thought. Then he turned around toward the back of the house and began pacing again.

William continued, "And then something about Abigail's role and her not knowing about the prophecy? What is this all about?" He continued further, too engrossed to realize he was actually making an outright threat, "I respect your entire family and everything you do for our village, but as I'm sure you are aware I am the biggest witch skeptic in all of Salem, save maybe for Abigail. How would Tobias take it if I, of all people, accused someone of being a witch?"

Samuel heard enough. This was a direct threat to his family, and he needed to mitigate it immediately. He and Willa needed time to figure out what to do next. Willa knew what was about to come. It was a protocol they discussed – and Samuel was right to do it.

With his back still facing William, Samuel spotted his special candle from the corner of his eye, and this comforted him. It had been a long time and though he felt unease over what he was about to do, he knew it needed to be done and there was no hesitation in his mind. He brought his hands to his chest and touched the tips of his three middle fingers from his right hand to the tips of the same three fingers on his left hand. Samuel closed his eyes and felt his emotion growing. He let his arms fall, still with the fingers touching, so his arms created a circle in front of his body. The energy within him flowed faster and faster through the circle made from his body, leaping through his fingertips, from his left arm to his right. After a few moments, his eyes opened suddenly. There was a quick, sharp flash of electricity in the room, as if lightning struck the house. Samuel put his hands down to his sides. William now lay on the floor near the front door, motionless.

"Samuel, you didn't kill him, did you?"

"Of course not. He's in stasis." Samuel shook his arms briefly to release the remaining tension and rolled his head around his neck. It had been a long time since he allowed his energy to freely flow through his body, and it felt good. "Really, Willa. I have killed no one in over two hundred years. You know I don't do that anymore."

"That's a relief," she said. "He's a good man, he really is. I don't think he meant to threaten me – I don't think he realized what he was saying. How long will he be out for?"

"I put him out for three days. He'll wake on Monday morning and by then his memory will have completely faded. I figured nobody will notice him missing over the weekend. He's always home grading assignments on Saturdays and he rarely attends Church on Sundays. That should give us time to determine our next move." Samuel learned the routines of as many of his fellow villagers as possible, exactly for this type of situation.

"Good thinking, Samuel. We need to be more careful about when, and how loudly, we speak from now on. And we need to discuss when to start Abigail's education."

"Yes, you're right, Willa. We will discuss it all. But for now, I'll take Mr. Putnam back to his house and set him up comfortably in his bed. He'll have a nice nap. I'll fetch Belle."

Samuel went to his bedroom closet and put on an old, long, dark cloak that wrapped around his body almost two full times. It had a tall, stiff collar which stood straight up with a black chain and a clasp to keep the cloak around his neck and secure it in place. He referred to the cloak as 'Belle' because the main body of the cloak extended out in the shape of a bell. At least he thought it did – Willa thought 'Belle' was a ridiculous name for the cloak, likely named after an ex-girlfriend, though Samuel was not the type to do something as sentimental as that. In reality, she never understood why he called it 'Belle'.

"Help me get Mr. Putnam to his feet," Samuel asked his wife.

They pulled William up from the floor and rested him inside Belle, with his head resting on Samuel's right shoulder. Once Samuel was certain the cloak was covering William's entire body, he again placed his hands near his chest. This time, instead of touching the tips of his fingers together, he clasped his hands together with his palms fully pressed against one another. The action he was about to perform needed significantly more energy than the previous act, so he needed a wider stream of energy flowing through his body. With his hands firmly clasped, he closed his eyes and lowered his arms into a circle, making sure he held William captive within his encircled arms, and he let his emotion fuel the energy flow. Within seconds, his eyes opened suddenly, and with a small puff of smoke, the two men and Belle were gone.

They immediately reappeared inside William's house with an equally small puff of smoke. Samuel unclenched his hands, making sure he still supported William. He placed the limp body over his right shoulder and carried him to his bed, where he lay William down, removed his boots, and covered him with the blanket from the bed.

"Sweet dreams," Samuel whispered, mostly to amuse himself. He then stood, made sure Belle was completely covering himself, tightly clenched his hands and closed his eyes for focus. This time, it took a couple of extra seconds to build the energy flow he needed, as he was out of practice and no longer used to such extreme expulsions of power. When the energy reached the tipping point, his eyes snapped open and, with another puff of smoke, he was gone. He reappeared back in his house, where Willa was beginning the preparation of dinner. There was a patina of smoky dust emanating from Belle's surface due to two quick trips after so many years of inactivity and storage. Samuel lightly removed the remaining vestige from her exterior and carefully returned her to her dedicated space in the bedroom closet.

A few minutes later, Abigail returned home just in time for Mother's delicious tomato soup and homemade bread.

"Mother, I'm meeting a friend for lunch tomorrow. Would it be all right if I made us a couple of sandwiches before I leave?"

"Of course, dear. Who are you meeting?"

Abigail felt uncomfortable lying to her parents, but in this circumstance, it was the only prudent thing to do. "I'm meeting with Christina. She still needs some help to get caught up with her schoolwork."

"That's very nice of you, Abigail. What a kind and thoughtful young woman you've become. Isn't that right, Samuel?"

He grumpingly sipped the soup from his spoon and uttered a barely perceptible grunt of agreement. Samuel was too busy thinking about how to keep his precious family safe and ensure the bloodline stayed intact. There was no time to think about lunches with friends.