Devil's Fire

An air of quiet worry lingered over the town, and a small group had gathered in the square to discuss the latest news out of Salem. "They hanged five," one of the men told Howard Hix as he approached.

"Five less witches to plague us here on Earth," Hix replied, ushering his daughter Deliverance towards the Putnams' storefront while he stopped to talk. She glanced back at him and frowned, then stomped up the rickety steps.

She was a strong girl on the verge of womanhood, her face framed by hair so dark it was nearly black. Her eyes were called hazel in the family bible but they were more amber than anything else, and somewhat uncommon.

The dim little store was warmer than the summer air outside. Deliverance adjusted her bonnet and set down her sacks on the makeshift counter. "Good day, Missus Putnam. Mother needs more flour."

"Of course she does."

"Livy!" Mary Cook rushed in the door and grabbed her arm. Her hair was as blonde and bright as Deliverance's was dark. "They're hanging witches in Salem!"

"I did hear that," she replied.

"Phillip Smith says he saw those devil lights in his field again!"

"Phillip Smith says a lot of things," Deliverance replied, trying not to smile.

"Are you speaking with young men, Miss Mary?" asked Missus Putnam.

"My brother was there," Mary said hurriedly. "Though I must admit Phillip is very forward, and often speaks out of turn."

"Perhaps I should speak to his father."

Mary giggled and bounced out the door, a few fair curls falling from her bonnet.

"That girl," muttered Missus Putnam.

"I quite like her," said Deliverance. "She's a good friend."

"But a silly girl."

"No one stays a girl."

"But they can stay silly. Here you are."

Deliverance thanked her and lugged the heavy sacks out into the warm July morning. Her father noticed and took them from her and headed to the cart without a word. Mary was lingering at the corner. "Father, may I walk home with Mary Cook?"

"Aye," he replied without looking. "Come straight home, though. Don't wander off the road today."

She looked up at him as he climbed into the seat. "Is there a reason?"

He looked down at her, frowning. "I said so, and that's the reason. Come straight home. Your mother needs the help." He shook the reins and the horse lunged forward.

Mary came up to her shoulder. "It's because of the devil lights," she whispered.

"Oh, bother the devil lights."

"Why are you so vexed today, Liv?" 

"I'm not vexed." They started down the dusty hard-packed road. "I'm hot." She adjusted her wool overskirt. "Sometimes I wish I could wear the little short dresses that the Indian maidens do."

Mary giggled as the path led into the shadows of the trees. "You'd be a sight! Why, Missus Putnam would faint on the spot! But...you wouldn't."

"Of course not. I'm a proper English woman."

"Who's a proper English woman?"

Both girls stopped and turned. Phillip Smith swaggered up the road towards them. Deliverance smiled. He was so handsome. "You're going to get a scolding," said Mary. "I told Missus Putnam that you spoke to me out of turn."

"I did no such thing," he replied, eyes sparkling as he crossed his arms.

"Well, you are now. There's no men folk here to protect our honor!"

Deliverance squeaked a laugh into her gloves. "Protect our honor?"

He paused a proper distance away. "I am simply passing by two proper English women on the road home," he replied, touching his hat and moving to the far side of the path. "I bid you good day."

Deliverance sighed. It was so much easier when they were small and could run and play together. His family's fields backed up against hers in places and they used to explore the stream that trickled through the trees there. They had seen each other's bare feet before they knew that might send them both to hell. "Phillip, wait a moment."

"Wait?" Mary echoed in astonishment.

"We are just neighbors sharing some news as we walk," she replied. "Is it true you saw more devil lights?"

"Aye, in the woods behind our fields, where the stream is, and Eli James saw them behind his fields as well."

"What does it look like?"

"Green and red and orange flames, flickering among the trees. But in the morning, there's no smoke and the trees are untouched. Some say they've seen black marks on the ground. Mayhaps the devil be tired of Salem, eh?"

"Why would he be?" Deliverance asked without thinking. "They're giving him all the souls he wants right there."

Mary frowned a bit but Philip laughed. "I think you're right, Deliverance," he said. "Now I must walk on faster before I am accused of speaking out of turn by a silly hen!" He spun all the way around on his heel, touching his hat again as he did, then continued down the road.

"Silly hen!" screeched Mary. "You take that back! You beast!"

Deliverance ran after him. "Come back here!" She shouted. "You had best apologize this instant!"

He looked back, realized she was gaining fast, and yelped. "I'm quite sorry, Mary! Apologies! Remember, you're a proper English woman!"

Deliverance slowed to a halt. "I can thrash like a proper English woman!"

"I have no doubt," he said, grinning. "I think I'll come to speak to your father this week."

She froze. "Really, Phillip? I was only joking. That's sore unkind of you."

He stared a moment, then laughed. "You silly goose! I meant come speak to him about a courtship! You are dense, aren't you? Perhaps you wouldn't make such a good wife after all. I might have to change my mind."

"Wife?" she gasped.

He just smiled and turned away.

Mary came up to her shoulder. "Did he just say--"

"He did."

"What do you think of that?"

"I...think that would be fine."

"Really? He's so common. His hair is almost red, and his eyes are almost green."

"I think he's lovely."

Mary laughed, and they walked on.

They parted ways still giggling at the crossroads; Mary kept on straight and Deliverance turned right. She walked the last eighth of a mile to her gray stone house and her mother instantly called her in to help with the bread making. She hung her bonnet and made sure her bun was firmly in place, then tied on her apron and joined her sister in the kitchen.

Elanor Hix was eight, and Howard Hix Junior was less than one. There had been two more, a boy between Deliverance and Elanor, and a girl between Elanor and Howard, but they were in the Hix family plot by the church.

Elanor peered at Deliverance as she kneaded bread. "Do you think there's witches, Livy?"

"There are witches," she replied carefully. "But I'm not sure there could be a whole town full of them without anyone noticing before."

"Do you think there's witches here?"

"No."

"But what about the fires?"

"I don't know. That could be just lightning bugs or moon shine."

"Susan tol me one of the witches is named Deliverance!"

"Lots of folks are named Deliverance. All the best ones. I'm named after our Aunt Livy, who was not a witch at all."

"Elanor, do stop talking about witches," said their mother, sliding a loaf into the fire.

"But what if there are witches here?"

"We shall pray to be delivered from the devil's evil works."

"I heered a scratching on the ceiling over my bed. Could that be a witch?"

"I think it's more likely a raccoon," said Deliverance.

"Maybe the raccoon is the witch's fameelier."

"There ain't no witch," said Deliverance.

"But what if...what if the witch--ow!" Elanor shrieked as her mother dropped a wooden spoon hard against her knuckles.

"I told you to stop it! Fretting about witches and speaking of the devil's work just draws him closer. You will go kneel on the hearth this instant and recite the Lord's prayer six times. And if it isn't perfect you will start over from the beginning. Off you go."

Elanor sniffed and huffed but crossed the room and knelt before the fire, placing her hands together obediently. Her mother reached out and seized Deliverance's hand. "And we will say one together, as well," she said.

Deliverance nodded and lowered her head. She had faith. Of course she did. But they were always so serious all the time. Always so worried. Hell was always a possibility, no matter how many prayers you said, and a part of her wondered how a God who said He loved her could be so cruel, and another part wondered what the point was in even trying, if even the slightest stumble, however unintentional, would close off that already slim chance she had of salvation.

Sometimes, she wondered if it wouldn't be better to just...enjoy life, if the result was going to be the same either way.

She was about Elanor's age when she had said something like that aloud, in her father's hearing. The whipping had been so severe she could still taste it. That was why she taught Elanor to bring questions to her first, with a promise to never be angry or tattle if it was the wrong sort of question. Elanor always had questions, right and wrong.

They baked in relative peace for the rest of the day, then Deliverance went to milk the cows and gather eggs. The sun was throwing long shadows across the ground when her father came up from the fields, dusty and sweaty. He stopped to look at her. "Deliverance," he said.

"Yes, Father?"

"I spoke to Jake Smith this afternoon. His son Phillip would like to court you."

"Really?" she asked, managing to sound surprised.

"What do you think?"

"I would not be opposed. He's always been kind, when we've crossed paths. And...he's very nice looking, come to think of it." He was also not so very serious about everything and could make her laugh, but she didn't say that out loud.

He nodded slowly, thoughtfully.

"Thank you for asking me what I think, Father." She was genuinely surprised that he had bothered.

He was still a long time. "Seems right, to let you speak your mind, before anything is decided. My father thought that one must have their say before anything is set in stone."

"I think so too," she murmured.

"Get ye inside now."

She nodded and hurried indoors. She smiled all through dinner and had to bite her cheeks to make it through prayer. Married to Phillip Smith. Deliverance Smith. Kissed by Phillip Smith.

"Why are you smiling?" asked Elanor as they washed their faces at the pump and listened to little Howie cry inside and the insects sing in the trees.

"Because I might be courted soon."

"Courted?" screeched Elanor. "By a boy?"

"Maybe," she admitted.

"Elanor!" Mother called.

They bounded into the house. "Howie is starting to cough," she said. "Elanor, I need you to run up and ask Goody Cook for her special syrup."

Elanor froze. "But it's getting dark! What about the devil lights?"

"You need to do your proper share. You sister baked all day and your father is trying to rest. Put on your bonnet. Go on."

"I'll walk with you," said Deliverance.

"You may do as you please but this is Elanor's errand."

"Yes, Mama," Elanor moaned as they reached for their bonnets.

The trees were full of crickets. Bats flitted across the sea of stars.

"What are they?" asked Elanor, tilting her head back.

"I read that some great minds think they are just like our sun, but farther away."

"Do you really think so?"

"I don't know."

The Cook homestead came into view. Their fluffy dog Poppy pulled on his rope and barked a greeting. "Go on. Knock on the door. This is your errand."

Elanor looked at her pleadingly, got nowhere with this, then sighed and climbed the steps, and rapped the wooden door, very lightly.

"You call that a knocking?"

She rapped again, louder, and there was some shuffling and the door cracked open. "Oh! Elanor!"

"Good evening, Goody--er--Missus Cook. Um...ah...we need...uh..."

"Go on," said Deliverance, smiling.

"Syrup. Howie has a cough."

"Oh does he now? Let me get some for you. What a brave girl, to walk here yourself, for the sake of your dear brother." She winked at Deliverance and turned back inside.

Mary pushed her way out. "Livy!"

"Mary!" Deliverance motioned for her. "Jake Smith asked Father if Phillip could court me!" she squeaked.

Mary squealed, leaping up and down. "You're going to be courted, Livy! You could be engaged this time next year! A wife in another!"

"You're really going to be a wife?" asked Elanor. "Really?"

"And a mother too," Deliverance told her.

Elanor stared, then blinked. "But what about me? If you have a baby how will you take care of me?"

"Oh, Elanor." She reached out to caress her sister's cheek. "By the time I have a baby, you'll be grown enough to take care of yourself. Until then, I'm all yours."

"Here you go, Elanor." Goody Cook handed her bundle. "Your mother knows how to use it. Now hurry on home."

"May I walk them to the crossroads?" Mary asked.

Goody Cook hesitated, then nodded and passed Mary her bonnet. "Come right home."

"All right, Elanor, bring the syrup to Mother," said Deliverance. "We'll be right behind you."

Mary took her arm, carrying her bonnet in her other hand. They discussed a few of Mary's prospects as they watched Elanor march ahead of them. The crickets chirped and an owl hooted in the trees.

Elanor froze on the road, and pointed into the woods on their right.

Lights flickered among the distant trees. Mary's grip tightened on her arm, almost painfully. "Keep walking," Deliverance snapped. "Just keep going. Mary, you should run home."

"No...no I can't. Not alone...oh no..."

"Come on then." She came and took Elanor's hand and the three of them walked together. Poppy was barking in the distance behind them.

"What is it? Is it witches? Is it the devil?" squeaked Elanor.

"I don't know. It is probably something perfectly ordinary. But let us say our prayers as we walk together. That will ward off any evil. Come now. Our Father..."

They murmured the prayer together as they walked, the two girls clinging to either side of her. The lights seemed to flicker closer. Mary moaned and closed her eyes.

Suddenly, the lights went out, and the world went dark and silent.

Perfectly silent. The crickets had stopped chirping. There were no bats or owls. Poppy had stopped barking. "It's all right," Deliverance managed. "God is our rock and our salvation. The Lord is our shepherd, whomever should we fear?" The crossroads were suddenly there before them. "Mary..."

"I can't...I...I can't..."

"Elanor, I have to help Mary get home. You need to run to mother to bring her the syrup. Tell her that I'll be right back."

"But...but what if they come back?"

"They're closer to us. You're safe here. Run. Run!"

The girl took off running down the lane. Deliverance grabbed Mary and turned her around. "Let us hurry. Quickly now, quickly! Before they come back!"

They hurried down the road as fast as they could without running, hand in hand. "It's all right...it's all right..." she breathed.

Mary skittered to a halt.

Something darker than the night was on the path in front of them. "Th-the Lord is my shh--shhhh--let's go!" Deliverance turned and yanked Mary after her.

There was another on the road behind them.

The forest lit up with blinding light. The dark shapes were some sort of beast, shaped vaguely like a man but huge and grotesque, wrapped in something reflective. Mary screamed and screamed.

Deliverance seized her and went to run into the woods on the other side of the road. It would eventually lead to her father's fields, and she could get home that way. She had no idea why these devils had come after them, and wasn't going to wait to find out.

Something tangled her legs and she fell. Mary dropped a few steps away. She tried to get up but she was caught in whatever it was like a trap. She tried to crawl. Something buzzed around her and pinned her arms to her sides. Mary screamed and flailed and then her arms were pinned as well. The devils stomped over and hiked them both off the ground, and dragged them towards the other side of the road.

"Nooooooo!" shrieked Mary. "Father! Mother!"

Deliverance didn't know why she couldn't scream as well. Her throat was tight and her jaw frozen in fear. As they passed through the trees on the other side of the road, she could see the source of the light. It was a huge, metal dome, like the top of a Papist cathedral, flashing and billowing smoke. That was it. That was the proof that these were indeed demons, intent on dragging them straight to hell.

That's when she found her voice and was able to scream.

Their screams could be heard across the whole of the town. When Howard Hix and George Cook arrived with their muskets, all they found was a dark forest and Mary's bonnet on the road. There were searches made all across the territory, but no sign of either girl was ever found, and the lights were never seen in that region ever again. 

At any other time in perhaps any other place, their disappearance would have been remembered as a great mystery, but the event was overshadowed by the trials in Salem and faded into the shadows of history. There were already enough troubles in Massachusetts, after all.