Circe could barely breathe. She was gagged and bound so tightly in the back of the wagon. The tarp the man had thrown over her was so thick and heavy that it made the air stifling. Drenched in perspiration, she tried to calm herself, knowing she could lose consciousness if she became too agitated. It was hard to curb the terror, though. Was he taking her somewhere to kill her? But why didn’t he kill her at once? How could I have been so careless opening that door? It had all happened so fast. There was a knock on the door moments after Dante left for food. Circe thought that he had forgotten something, so she turned the lock. In a flash, the burly stranger pushed his way in and clapped his hand over her mouth. He slammed her to the floor, quickly lashing her arms and legs.

Cedric is behind this. It most certainly is not the Witchfinder General; he loves an audience. Stealth and deceit is more characteristic of Cedric.

The cart bumped along the dirt road, jostling Circe. Several times she cracked her head on the floor. The ride was so rough, and the man was traveling so quickly. She could tell it was a busy thoroughfare because she could hear people talking and wagons rattling. The journey seemed endless, but eventually, it grew quieter; she could hear crickets. The man yanked off the tarp once they stopped and there stood Cedric. He was dressed in the dark suit of a gentleman and was holding a lantern. “Bring her to the cellar,” he instructed.

Circe did not struggle or try to scream. She knew it was futile.

The man took her to the side of the house, lifted the cellar door and pushed her down the steps into a dark, musty dugout. It was filled with barrels, crates, piles of potatoes and turnips. Cedric handed him a pouch, dismissed him and sat down on the steps with the lantern.

“We have decided that we need you and that Spaniard after all, at least for a while, Mistress Swinburne.”

Circe stared at him, her chest heaving.

“It appears that you lied to us. This time we will get the location of the Grand Portal. We grew suspicious when Gregorio could not summon the power to turn base minerals into gold. We squeezed the truth from Dr. Lumpkin though with a little pressure.”

Circe shut her eyes, horrified at the thought of what they may have done.

“We felt very foolish and even a bit angry when we found out that you had lied to us,” he said with a raised eyebrow. “A transgression of that magnitude is truly unforgivable.”

He sighed and looked at her thoughtfully. “I must say that I don’t understand the Goddess. Why would she give powers to an insignificant little weaver and a debauched Spaniard?” He shrugged and chuckled. “But then look at the Christians and their carpenter.”

He stood up and brushed his breeches off. “Ah, well, De la Rosa will be here forthwith to rescue his princess; then, we can get started.”

Before he dropped the cellar door, he added, “I know what you’re thinking, child. You will send us on a merry chase once again and tell us more lies, but Berwyn is taking care of that problem. She is down at the lake this very minute conjuring an ancient spell that will force the truth from you. It will haunt and plague you until we are satisfied.” He shuddered. “It is most unpleasant.”

Circe dropped back onto the dirt floor when he slammed the cellar door. Cedric was right. Dante would come shortly, and he would walk right into their trap. Then what would happen? Would they force them to search high and low for the Grand Portal? And what if they couldn’t find it? She remembered Berwyn summoning the spirits with Cedric and Gregorio the other night. And she recalled the hideous creatures in the smoke. There was no question; the woman was indeed a powerful sorceress and to be feared.

*                     *                        *

Cheeseborough couldn’t believe his eyes as he walked home from the chandlery that evening. There he was! That demon apothecary was back. Had the Swinburne woman returned too? He looked again as he turned toward the docks. Yes, indeed, it was him. He would know that dark face anywhere even with the hat pulled low. He was probably going to the taverns. How audacious to be wandering the streets of Boston when you are wanted for witchcraft. The devil has indeed emboldened him.

Cheeseborough climbed the steps to Reverend Fawcett’s home with his chest puffed out. When the housekeeper opened the door, he said, “Prithee, may I speak with the Witchfinder General?”

*                       *                              *

Dante tried to calm himself and think clearly. The note he found on the floor written in Gregorio’s hand merely said, “Regards.”

This was a trap without question. He didn’t care what they wanted. He would give them anything as long as they did not harm Circe. “By the gods above, I cannot lose her!” he exclaimed.

Oh, how he hated Gregorio. That venomous creature destroys everything in his path and now he’ll take Circe too.

Dante checked his pistol and put a dagger in his boot. He would decide what to do as he traveled to the Rhys residence. He dashed out of the house searching the street frantically. There was a horse tethered to a post nearby and, without a moment’s hesitation, he was on its back and thundering out of town.

He was riding low and fast, so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t realize there were riders following him. At last, when he saw them, he barked, “Damn!”

He led the mare into the brush as he rounded the curve. They passed by him quickly but it was too dark to see their faces. Dante decided to take the trail along the river. The path was rough but direct; he would lose no time.

When he finally arrived at the Rhys residence, the five riders were there and dismounting.

Jumping from his horse, Dante tethered the mare to a tree in the woods and ran up, edging around the house until he could hear what they were saying.

The first voice was Cedric’s. “I am most grateful but it seems your worry was for naught. We are quite safe here.”

“You have seen or heard nothing unusual?” It was Joseph Duncan.

“I am glad to report that I have not. Now, won’t you come in for some refreshment before you return home?”

“Thank you, but no. I want to search the area.”

“That is completely unnecessary,” Cedric protested.

“I would be remiss if I did not.”

“But−”

Duncan ignored him and gave the order for his men to do a sweep of the grounds. They set off with lanterns raised high and weapons drawn. Dante pressed himself against the house, hoping they would not see him or his horse standing in the woods. He wondered if they might find Circe or if Cedric had her hidden inside the home.

After several moments, one of Duncan’s men returned and said, “Sir, come quickly.”

They all disappeared down the path to the lake. Dante ran after them, circling wide through the brush and squatted down to see what captured their attention.

 

 

It was Berwyn, and she was standing by a bonfire in a white robe chanting in Latin. He recognized the words as an invocation to the Gatekeeper. She stood with her arms raised, a bronze torque around her neck and her blonde hair hanging down her back. The robe was so sheer; the form of her naked body could be seen in the firelight. Once again, at her feet were Dante’s mortar and pestle and Circe’s cloth.

Joseph Duncan burst into the clearing holding a Bible high followed by his men. Berwyn was so taken with her ritual that she didn’t notice until he roared, “Almighty Lord, protect me from this pagan demon!”

Only then did she blink and look around, surprised by the outburst.

“Constance!” Cedric cried, pushing his way to the front of the group. “What manner of blasphemy is this?”

Her confusion turned to fury. She exclaimed, “How dare you call our sacred rite blasphemous!”

“Seize her,” Duncan commanded. The men stepped up, taking her arms.

Berwyn struggled and showered them with profanities. Gone was the demure young woman so upright and God-fearing.

“What have you done, my daughter?” Cedric asked, feigning innocence. “Why have you allowed the devil to seduce you?”

“Venomous liar!” she snarled, her face contorted with rage.

Duncan narrowed his eyes and looked at Cedric.

“Please,” Cedric protested, putting his hands up. “I had no idea witchcraft was being practiced here.”

“He is false!” she shrieked and broke away from the men.

Berwyn lurched forward to claw Cedric’s face but stepped too close to the fire. It was a fatal mistake. The hem of her filmy garment ignited.

Looking down, she screamed and slapped her body as the flames crackled and climbed up her torso igniting her long hair. The next instant, she became a living torch. Overcome with madness, she ran, tripped and fell, flailing on the ground. One of the men tried to snuff the flames with his cloak, but it was too late. Berwyn was dead.

Everyone stared at the macabre sight, including Dante, light flickering on their horrified faces.

At last, Duncan dragged his eyes away. “Where is Rhys?”

Everyone looked, but Cedric was gone.

*                      *                    *

Losing no time, Dante rushed back to the house. He had to find Circe. He waited for Duncan and his men to leave. Then, he combed every inch of the residence looking for her. He looked in the cellar after searching the barn, but she was not there either.

His next stop was Dr. Lumpkin’s home, but when he walked up the stairs an odd feeling washed over him. He opened the door and took out his pistol. Moonlight flooded the room. Lumpkin’s coat was on the peg and his boots were by the door. Everything seemed in order, but when Dante started to the fireplace, his foot hit something heavy.

“Dios mio!” he exclaimed.

It was Dr. Lumpkin. He was face down on the floor, a circle of blood soaking the carpet.

“No!” he said, touching his cold body. “Not you, my friend.”

Dante searched the house and barn with no time to lose, but still no Circe. Mounting his horse, he flew down to the apothecary shop. There was a light in the window.

He dismounted, kicked the door open and stepped inside with his pistol raised. The first thing he saw was Circe, wide-eyed with terror. Gregorio was standing behind her, holding a dagger to her throat. There were bandages on his face and he was covered in perspiration.

“We’ve been waiting for you, little brother,” he said. “Think not of approaching or I will slice her neck.”

Circe’s gag was off, and her hands were free. She stood stiffly, though, taking short, little breaths.

“What do you want?” Dante snapped.

“Father’s map. I’ve already obtained the mask from your inamorata.”

“The map is of no use to you, Gregorio,” he said. “You need us to channel it.”

He sneered, “Still filled with self-importance, aren’t you? I can find the Grand Portal myself. I tried to convince Cedric and Berwyn of that fact, but they didn’t listen. They always had all the answers.”

“Dante,” Circe pleaded. “Give him the map.”

He shook his head. “I will not. All his life, Gregorio has taken whatever he wants. Not this time.”

“Still whining about the past?”

Dante looked at the bandages. “What happened to your face?”

“Fool that I was, I allowed Berwyn cut me so that I could pass as you.” Still holding the blade to Circe’s throat, he ripped off his bandages. Two jagged lacerations were on his face, one on his forehead and another by his ear. They were red and swollen with pus oozing. “She cut me weeks ago, and they still haven’t healed. I listened to that filthy whore; now my blood is poisoned!”

“And you came here to find our mother’s cure.”

“That’s right. I knew you would have it.” He gestured to an empty bottle on the table. “I helped myself, thank you very much,” Gregorio said. “Now hand over the map.”

“No.”

“Dante!” Circe sobbed. Tears were running down her cheeks and she was trembling.

Gregorio lifted the blade and lightly cut the surface of her skin. She yelped, red blood oozing down her neck. “Shall I do it again?” he asked.

“Dante, please!” she cried.

Opening his coat, Dante ripped the lining, removed the map and held it out.

But Gregorio started choking as he reached for it. Dropping the dagger, he clutched his stomach and fell to his knees.

In a flash, Dante yanked Circe behind him. “You fool, Gregorio,” he sneered. “You drank the wrong fungus formula. That contained St. Anthony’s Fire. There was enough in there to kill ten men.”

Gregorio’s eyes grew wide with horror. Another wave of nausea swept over him and he retched violently.

“I’m sorry, Circe,” Dante said. “But if I gave him the map any sooner, he would have slit your throat. I thought the poison would never manifest.”

Gregorio shrieked and then started choking again, blood bubbling to his lips. He gasped one last time and then slumped heavily onto the floor. He was dead.