When I saw the flames glowing on the horizon all kinds of horror started to whirl through my mind. When your husband has a power that can destroy the city in the same way a nuclear bomb can, then times like these are really worrying. However, when you find yourself crawling through the shit pipe of life, you learn not to stop and the sniff the air. Instead you keep crawling and keep pushing forward in the hope that the end of the tunnel will appear and the nightmare ends.
So I focused on what had to be done next. We waited an hour in the barn before making our way to the edge of the city. Once there we found the nearest residential street where Duke proceeded to ‘borrow’ another car. He jacked the car and we got in and off we went to city cemetery to execute my great kidnapping plan.
Was I confident about this plan? No and it was obvious to me neither were Casper and Duke. So why were we prepared to gamble so much on a plan that seemed hopeless? Well, that would be sheer desperation. Caspar was already losing his cool, Henrietta was definitely a no-good murdering bitch, and I was getting more than a little anxious about all the dead people that were coming back to life and trying to chow down on me.
So desperate times call for desperate measures, and this was exactly what this kidnapping was.
Sitting in the car I glanced across at Casper who was deep in thought and asked, “Do you think you can really get him to come?”
He lifted his head up and with a confident smile replied, “Why wouldn’t he? I possess what is most precious to him. If I tell him where I am then he will be sure to come.”
“Okay, but I don’t want you in the crypt when he arrives. I need to talk to him first just to try and straighten things out, and if things go south then you and Duke can get the hell out there.”
“I would not leave you to face the dark beast alone, little sister. I appreciate your concern but I will face my brother tonight. There are many things I wish to say to him after all these years.”
His voice was tinged with bitter anger but also sadness that made my heart turn over in my chest. Gently I said, “I know you are mad at Caspar, but don’t forget that it is Henrietta who is the real architect of all this misery. She is our enemy, not Caspar.”
Casper laughed humourlessly and stared out the window.
The city was fairly quiet which I think was due to Caspar’s freak out up in the palace. We travelled through the city on empty roads towards the city’s great cemetery. I peered out the car window as we rolled into the old city quarter. The old beamed houses and cobbled sidewalks made me think that I was driving through an old European city.
I looking across at Casper who was still brooding in the corner, I tried to lighten the mood with a little conversation.
“How old are those houses?”
Without sparing me a glance he replied, “The old city quarter was built towards the end of the late seventeenth century. There were earlier buildings before that, but none of them survived. They were all timber framed and had a tendency to catch on fire every couple of years. Port Cressida was burnt to the ground a total of five times because of great fires and had to be completely rebuilt.”
Five times! That was insane.
“You would think people would’ve caught on after the second or third time the city burned down,” I said.
Casper scoffed, “People were ignorant back then. Fire and natural disasters were not thought of as unfortunate accidents, but the wrath of God or worse, the Devil. You see, even vampires were susceptible to the puritanical thinking – God, the Devil, black magic and evil witches were as real to them as you and I. So whenever something bad happened people thought God was angry at them, or Devil had cursed them… although the most popular explanation was witches.”
“Witches,” I repeated curiously. “I thought the vampire court worked with witches.”
“They do now, but for a long time witches were deeply feared and persecuted.”
“Was it like the Salem Witch Trials or the witch hunts that spread across Europe during the fifteenth century,” I asked.
He lowered his voice and said, “Yes, it did follow that pattern. Many innocent people were accused of witchcraft and were killed. Most of them were women.”
A cold chill snaked its way down my spine.
I recalled writing a history report in high school about the witch trials. There was one book that particularly stood out in my mind, a book written by King James I of England. The book ‘Demonology’ was written by the King as he considered himself an authority on witchcraft. In it he wrote detailed articles about witches, their nature, and what good Christian people should do if they found a witch living amongst them. There was one particular sentence from that book that lingered in my memory – Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.
My heart sank to think of the hundreds of men and women that were condemned to death on these words alone.
Bitterly I remarked, “And I guess that most of these supposed witches weren’t actual witches.”
Casper nodded and said, “Once again you’ve hit the proverbial nail on the head, little sister.”
“That’s so fucked up,” I replied leaning back into the car seat.
I couldn’t believe that supernaturals were dumb enough to condemn other supernaturals to death. You would think that they had a better insight into how the world worked…
“Hey, there is more to it than that,” Duke said suddenly chipping in from up front. “People used to be scared of witches because Port Cressida was built on the site of great witch massacre.”
Casper rolled his eyes and groaned, “Not this Halloween camp fire story again, Duke-”
“It’s not a campfire story, it’s true,” Duke snapped defensively. “There used to be a temple on the grounds where the palace stood where an order of priestesses lived and worshipped. When the first European vampires came over to North America led by the old King, they weren’t keen on these pagan natives. They accused them of witchcraft and quickly condemned the priestesses of devil worship, necromancy and other dark arts. A great crusade was led against them and they were rounded up and sentenced to be burned to death on the stake for heresy. For centuries after the massacre people believed those priestesses cursed the land which the city was built on.”
The pieces of the jigsaw suddenly began to fall into place. The bloody origins of Port Cressida, the tapestry on the wall, everything Henrietta had said about people dying for having my kind of abilities – suddenly everything was starting to make sense.
“Oh my God,” I whispered out loud. “I think I finally understand what Thelma meant.”
“What?” Casper and Duke replied in unison.
“Thelma described Henrietta as an old one and a one who survived. At the time I didn’t understand but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. Henrietta used to talk to me about people who had died for having certain types of abilities like mine, and she even told me once to ask Caspar about the bloody origins of Port Cressida… I never did get round to asking why, but she dropped other hints like the tapestry of the burning women in my bedroom.”
“So what are you saying? Do you think Henrietta is a priestess who survived the massacre?” Casper asked.
“Maybe,” I mused. “Perhaps that’s why she is targeting the royal family. Maybe after all these centuries she finally wants revenge for the crusade that was led against her people.”