The following is a chapter from the follow-up to Hunting For Witches — Salem’s Burning
The crowd was on their feet, showering Ada with applause. Even Marcus was clapping and laughing gregariously—but his smile faded as he caught sight of Ashton glowering at the slinky songstress leaving the stage.
As the applause died down and the late-night conversation picked up, Ashton made a beeline for the bar with Marcus at his heels. The masked pianist was pouring Ada a glass of whiskey while she fussed with her cell phone. By this point, Ashton had recognized the man as Sanchez, the bewitched handyman who was in Ada’s employ when the Black Death Tavern was in operation. Apparently, despite the misfortune he had suffered before the tavern was burned to the ground, he’d been swayed to remain in Ada’s service, his presence likely tied to some type of devilish enchantment.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” Ashton hissed.
“Ashton Rose, what a surprise,” Ada replied. “Buy you a drink?”
“A surprise? You’re just full of pretty lies. Feels like old times.”
“And how about the company you’ve been keeping?” Ada countered. “They’re entirely on the level, are they?”
Ashton leaned toward her, his body shaking with rage. “My girlfriend went missing because of you.”
Ada finally looked up from her phone in confusion. “Yeah. That’s right, witch,” Ashton spat. “Miles showed me the tape.”
“Miles showed you... a tape?” Ada’s piercing blue-violet eyes softened as she put two and two together. “Miles is a traitor. You honestly have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into. And speaking of girlfriends, I don’t recall any girlfriend on your mind when you were sharing your bed with me.”
“Wait a sec,” Marcus interjected. “You slept with a—?”
“Shut up, Marcus,” Ashton snarled, inspiring an uproarious cackle from Ada in response. She was tickled pink by the surprise that was exhibited when it was revealed that he had slept with the enemy.
“Stay away from me,” Ashton said. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.” He was convinced the warning would suffice when Ada closed her eyes and leaned toward him, moving in for a kiss.
The action inspired Ashton to jump back, his face now bright red. Ada let loose another riotous cackle at the reaction, and Marcus grabbed Ashton by the shoulder and hustled him to the exit.
“Not here, buddy,” Marcus whispered. “Not here.”
While they were on their way, Ada called out but didn’t make an effort to face them. “They’re playing you for a fool, Ashton. Leave the Scarlet Council while you still can.”
She smiled coldly, a dark intensity flaring up inside of her.
“It’s hunting season.”
In another part of the city, Lucy Palmer stood at a bus stop, sipping on a frozen coffee. Like Ada, she seemed to have transformed into a different girl as well, having fully adapted to the look her fellow witches had created for her that she had built upon over the past several months. She was dressed in a customized leather biker jacket over punky schoolgirl attire. Her blonde hair was worn in pigtails and the dark makeup around her eyes made her look like a mad raccoon.
In the four months since she left Little Salem, Lucy had also gotten a handle on how to use the special gift she was burdened with and was now putting it to good use. When a dark sedan pulled up across the street from her, she watched a balding, roly-poly gentleman in sweaty business attire shuffle toward it with a pair of burly, thick-necked bodyguards. The man was Barton Green, an influential lawyer whose offices were located on the top floor of the towering skyscraper he exited moments earlier. His prominent status and irksome appearance made him quite an intimidating figure, but these qualities paled in significance to what Lucy alone was seeing: a small red demon was clawing into his back, donning a chilling, sharp-toothed grin as it growled, gurgled, and hissed at the chilly late-night air that surrounded it.
Back at La Peste, Ada was gazing blankly in front of her when her phone started vibrating on the bar top. She took her time answering, her voice calm and vacant.
“Yes?”
“He’s on his way.”
Ada took a moment to acknowledge this and cast a stony look at Sanchez. Moments later, they were exiting out the door with Ada pulling the hood of her black velvet cloak over her head.
In Boston's West End, outside a stately apartment building, a fancy-uniformed doorman was lighting a cigarette. He heard the sound of heels clicking across the sidewalk as a peculiar fragrance bombarded his senses.
“Hey, good-lookin’.”
The doorman looked over, and his eyes went buggy when he observed who had addressed him: a voluptuous redhead wearing a black trench coat with a tantalizing low-cut red dress underneath.
“Got a light?” the redhead asked.
The doorman started fumbling for his lighter, salivating with desire. Once her cigarette was lit, the redhead took a drag and exhaled a cloud of smoke, receiving a thirsty grin in response. The spell was broken when another woman appeared from the alley: a gangly young firestarter with dark hair pulled back into a long braided ponytail. She was dressed in black skin-tight jeans, combat boots, a black T-shirt, and black skinny suspenders underneath a black flight jacket. At first glance, she might have seemed somewhat frail and delicate, but a closer look revealed that her entire body was toned and sinewy, like that of a star athlete.
“Hi,” the brunette said playfully.
The doorman gawked at the new arrival as she pointed her finger to the heavens. When he glanced upward, she leaped six feet into the air and landed on his shoulders, locking her thighs around his neck and cutting off the air to his windpipe.
When the doorman dropped to the ground unconscious, the brunette rose to her feet and flashed a wicked smile at the redhead.
“Psh. Show-off,” the redhead said. “Your turn, Glamour Girl.”
A young Asian woman with short silver hair exited the alley, dressed in an exact replica of the doorman’s uniform. While smirking at the unconscious victim, she placed her hands upon her face and pulled them back until they touched the base of her neck, causing her face to change to resemble the doorman in every way.
The counterfeit doorman nodded to the redhead, and the brunette tossed her the man’s keys. She used them to open the door and cross to the lobby’s front desk while her comrades worked in unison to move their inert hostage to the alley Once the man was resting with his back against the wall, the redhead found her attention being alerted to the arrival of a black sedan. Fast as lightning, she ashed her cigarette and ducked into the shadows, with the brunette swiftly following her lead.
When the passenger exited the sedan with his two bodyguards, the seemingly familiar doorman opened the door for him.
“Evening, Mr. Green,” the doorman said.
The doorman used a key card to call the elevator, and the prestigious resident offered a curt nod as the doors closed in front of him. When the elevator was in motion, the counterfeit doorman returned to the front desk and focused on the series of monitors showing all the activity in the lobby, the front entrance, and the interior of the hallways and elevators. A text on her phone alerted her of “Arrival in two minutes,” and this was the signal to shut down all surveillance.
Outside, Lucy hopped out of a cab further down the street and crossed to a nearby doorway. She waited for the taxi to disappear before rushing to join the two girls outside the apartment building: Agatha, the redhead, and Morgan, the brunette.
“Is Ada here?” Lucy asked.
Agatha smiled tenderly at her young protégé, knowing how nervous and excited she felt. The sound of a car pulling up returned their attention back to the street, greeting the arrival of a long 1930s Rolls Royce that was black as the Ace of Spades.
Once the car came to a halt, the driver, Sanchez, still wearing his Phantom of the Opera mask, rushed to the rear passenger door and opened it for Ada, her black hooded cloak draped over her sparkly evening gown. The counterfeit doorman, who was named Z, opened the door and Ada crossed to the elevator. Her eyes were looking cold and powerful, and her striking all-female entourage looked primed and ready for action.
After everyone piled inside, Z used her key card to allow them access to the penthouse, the girls all following Ada down a long hallway upon their arrival. Ada made a quick gesture that opened the door in front of them, allowing them entry into the living room where one of the bodyguards was seated with his eyes in a magazine.
As soon as the man realized what was happening, he was on his feet. Morgan was on him in an instant, spin-kicking him hard in the face before he had a chance to pull his gun. Lurching backward, the bodyguard took a few swings at his spry attacker, but Morgan dodged the punches with ease. After performing a quick series of jabs, she snapped the thug’s neck, and his body fell dead to the floor.
Panting from exertion, Morgan smiled at her deadly efforts, but the flush of a toilet put her back on high alert. She watched the second bodyguard exit the washroom—and this one was much faster at reaching for his sidearm.
Morgan knew she wouldn’t have time to reach him, but this was of no consequence. Before he could aim his weapon, Ada raised her hand and made a sharp gesture. Her psychokinetic powers sent his body flying backward, head slamming into a wall with intensity.
Lucy gulped at the sight of another body dropping to the floor like a sack of lemons. Ada remained stone-faced, crossing further into the apartment with the rest of her team following after her.
When Ada reached another locked door, she raised her arm and made a gesture. The door flew open and Barton Green spun away from the wall safe, dropping a stack of folders and aiming a small pistol at his adversary.
Ada was too fast for him—one quick gesture and his gun went flying across the room into her hand. “Hello, Mr. Green,” she said. “Don’t bother picking those up. Ladies?”
Moments later, the man was bound to a chair with all the girls standing at various points around the room. “Greeny Greeny Greeny,” Ada sighed. “What a fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into. You know, they say we are judged by the company we keep. That puts you in some very sorry company indeed.”
Wearing a look of bored indifference, she set the gun aside and poured herself a glass of Scotch. “Does your firm handle all of the Council’s business? No. Don’t answer that. That cat was let out of the bag when I ran into one of your colleagues in Little Salem.”
The event that Ada was referring to was the massacre on the night of Walpurgisnacht. As a former member of the Council, McAllister was familiar with all of the guests at Godfrey’s dinner party. There was a military general that was present, as well as the headmaster who oversaw the candidates at Council Chapter Nine. Then there was Gerald Chase, or “Jerry” as McAllister had called him; a partner in the Boston law offices of Waxley Chase and Green. Ada had assumed if the firm was handling all the legal affairs of the Council, then it wasn’t too much of a stretch to consider they had more than one Council member working for them. Keeping tabs on the offices had paid off, allowing Lucy’s special gift to confirm this.
“He ran into a bit of trouble out there, this colleague,” Ada said. “Caught a fatal case of death, I’m afraid.” After having a hearty sip of her whiskey, she fixed her bewitching eyes on her victim. “So, to sum up, I think you know what we’re capable of.”
Her craven captive scoffed defiantly. “You’re wasting your time. You won’t get a thing out of me.”
Ada shrugged her shoulders. “Well, you say that... But we’re only getting started.” She finished her drink in one swig and gave the man’s face a pat. “Let’s cut to the chase. The Council’s membership. How many?”
No answer.
“How’s the group organized?”
No answer.
“How many of your clients are members? Refusal to speak won’t stop us. I have plenty of methods for obtaining information.”
Lucy cast a nervous glance at the other girls, noticing that Agatha was smiling coolly while both Morgan and Z seemed ready to pounce at a single word. Regrettably, the witches’ hostage was being difficult, paying no mind to these threats.
“Methods? Your coven couldn’t obtain waste from a sewer!”
A tense silence fell upon the room that was broken by a chuckle. Ada’s lips curled into a smirk, and she lazily cocked her head.
“Is that a pacemaker I hear?”
Mr. Green turned pale, his fatty jowls quivering.
“The thing about pacemakers,” Ada said. “You don’t want to get too excited and overwork them. They have the tendency to heat up.”
The man started squirming as Ada’s haunting blue-violet eyes glared at his sternum. He wasn’t the only one feeling unsettled: Lucy’s breathing started quickening as she watched the horrible demon clasping to the man’s back begin writhing and shrieking in agony.
“Who’s pulling your strings, Greeny?” Ada asked. “Who are you dancing for? Tell us.”
“Screw you!” the man screamed.
“Tell us, and I’ll spare your life.”
“Ada,” Lucy whimpered. The earsplitting shrieks from the demon were becoming too much to bear, but Agatha placed a hand on her shoulder to silence her.
“I couldn’t tell you even if I knew!” Mr. Green groaned.
“Then who do we need to talk to?” Ada asked flippantly. “It’s getting quite tropical in here.”
Lucy pinched her eyelids shut and covered her mouth. Closing her eyes allowed her to avoid the sight of the screeching parasite clawing at the air in desperation.
“No!” Mr. Green screamed. “I won’t tell you any more!”
“Pity.”
With her petulant lips forming an ambivalent frown, Ada stared hard at her victim’s torso, and smoke started rising from his chest. The sweaty red-faced man struggled in vain to free himself until finally, his body went limp. With Barton Green out of commission, the demon fell silent as well. Lucy opened her eyes to find Ada glaring at the corpse with annoyance before glancing at the files on the floor and an open briefcase on the desk.
“Morgan—grab the files and the briefcase,” Ada instructed. “Z—wipe the surveillance feed. Agatha?”
As Z exited the room, Agatha tossed Ada a spray can. But before Ada could do anything else, Lucy released a startled gasp.
“Oh my God! Ada!”
The corpse had sprung to life. Barton Green’s fat, fleshy face was sneering with contempt while speaking in a voice that sounded far from human.
“The Lords of Light will fail as you have always failed!” the voice hissed. “There will be more bodies! More innocent dead! The Lords of Light are finished!”
Ada observed the gruesome creature with ennui. “The Lords of Light are finished,” she said. “Didn’t you get the message?” On the back wall, she spray-painted a pentagram with the number 69 on top. “We’re Star 69 now. Thanks for calling!”
“No! Wait!”
Ada pumped her arm, and Mr. Green’s demonic countenance burst into flames. As his body burned to a crisp, Lucy shuddered at the howls echoing in her eardrums, the unearthly parasite burning as well while its host was scorched to death.
After a few moments, the flames died down, the blackened corpse slumped forward, and the girls that remained exchanged stunned glances.
Ada released a hefty sigh. “I could really go for a smoothie.”
As Ada made her exit, Agatha released an amused giggle and trailed after her, with Lucy shortly following suit. Morgan was the last to leave after tossing the scatter of files into the dead man’s briefcase and wiping off the gun and the glass Ada had drunk from before joining the rest of the group in the hallway. After this, the five young women took off into the night, strolling out of the building more confident than ever that their coven was deadlier than poison and a force to be reckoned with.
Hours later, the vintage Rolls was parked outside the darkened windows of La Peste. Sanchez stood by the entrance as Ada sat alone at the bar, pouring herself another drink.
“Mistress Ada… Are you OK?”
From his vantage point, it was no secret that Ada was looking a bit wobbly and was struggling with her aim while refilling her glass.
Snapping to attention, Ada set down the bottle and clasped her head with irritation. “It’s just these headaches,” she said. “You can leave. I’ll be OK.”
“Did things go well tonight?” Sanchez asked earnestly.
While considering how to answer, Ada blinked her eyes rapidly, fussing with her hair. “This new group I’ve assembled... It feels so different. So many different personalities... But we’ll be ready. We have to be. We’re already in more danger than I imagined.”
Sanchez fidgeted restlessly, aware that something unspoken was weighing on her. “What about the former members?” he inquired. “Do you still think about them?”
Ada’s face darkened as she finished her drink and set the glass aside. She thought about the pitch-black waters where the body of her one true love was dumped; of the young woman sitting in the white padded room of a mental hospital; of the skinny miscreant holed up in a hotel room, the walls littered with page after page of bizarre magical drawings and correspondences.
McAllister.
Izzy.
Rudy.
Did she still think about them?
There was only one answer she could give to such a question, a sad, haunted look etched upon her face.
“I never stop.”