Initiation #10

Chapter Six

 

 She drove to Stella’s house, making sure to use her turn signal and come to full stops. Did her father know how to shield his thoughts? In a house full of pagans, it might have been an important skill to have. She should try to read Stella. Walking through other people’s thoughts was wrong, but how could she find out? She could pick a stranger as opposed to losing a friend.

Stella waited on her front step, clutching a notebook. Leah had barely stopped the sedan before her friend vaulted in, slamming the passenger door. Turning red eyes and a tight face her way, Stella said, “Let’s get out of here now. I am not sure if I can put up with those people a minute longer.”

Leah reversed slowly out of the driveway. The thought of burning rubber to leave as fast as her friend had suggested crossed her mind only briefly. Such action would have resulted in the cancellation of any future use of the family car. “Those people” had to be Stella’s parents, since no one else resided in their house. Besides, most teens battled with the limitations or demanding expectations of their parents, and a few were unlucky enough to have parents who wanted to relive the life they wished they’d had as a teen through their children.

A rock ballad played softly as raindrops pelted the windshield. Rain, just what she didn’t need. Oh, well, she would have to drive in all kinds of weather. She might as well get used to it. Stella sniffled occasionally, probably wondering why her friend wasn’t asking her what was wrong. Driving was difficult enough with trying to remember all the rules plus directions to the library. Why had she never paid attention when other people were driving? Then again, the issue of popping out of the current century into another was a bit disconcerting.

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel as she realized she could disappear in a flash, leaving the car driverless and her friend in danger. It would be hard to explain to her father when she returned. Make that if she returned. Stella sniffled again.

Leah sighed. “What happened?”

Stella wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Leah reached for the ready supply of fast-food napkins kept in the car, handing one to her tearful friend.

“Boundaries, apparently my mother has none.” She blew her nose, sounding almost like a honking cartoon character. Leah decided against mentioning it. Instead, she waited, knowing her friend would reveal all if given enough time.

Stella jerked at her shoulder belt impatiently as if it was the one guilty of offending her as opposed to her parent. “She snooped through my room. She calls it cleaning. Ever since my mother lost her job as an office manager, she has too much time on her hands. Obviously enough time to root through my room.”

Leah would be upset if her mother rooted through her room, mainly because it would merit a lecture on being more organized. What could Stella have that would upset her mother? “So what did she find? Racy magazines, a suggestive love letter, some weed?” She laughed because she doubted her introverted friend would have any of the mentioned items, but you never knew.

Stella answered with an abrupt one-word reply. “No.”

That was it. First, she blubbered until Leah asked, then she clammed up. Kinda hard to sympathize when she didn’t know what to feel bad about. She braked for a four-way stop, paying attention to who arrived first to decide when her turn came. Luckily, only one other car was at the stop. He shot through the four-way, not allowing her to question who arrived first. She would have let him go first, but the sports car driver wasn’t taking chances.

Information signs denoting a library nearby caught her eye at the same time Stella decided to enlighten her. “Hey, Leah, I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know how you’d react. Certainly not like my mother, but I want to tell you.”

“Go ahead,” she encouraged, spotting the library building a couple of blocks down the street. Her friend couldn’t tell her anything that would be too surprising.

“Well,” Stella started and then stopped. She looked out the window. “I suggested the topic about religious intolerance and prejudice.”

Leah flicked on the turn signal and pulled into the library parking lot. “It’s a good topic. I’ve no complaints. In fact, I want to do a little more research on it today.”

“Yeah, I know, but I never explained why I picked it.” Stella turned a wary expression to her.

Twisting the key to turn the car off, Leah answered, “Okay.” Stella’s family had never struck her as overly religious. They might make it to church a half-dozen times a year, but she doubted anyone would be guilty of persecuting them. Her friend sat, inspecting her cuticles, probably waiting for her to say something else. “Why did you?”

“I’ve developed an interest in earlier religions, even Pagan ones. I’ve been studying them. New religions replaced them sometimes under the penalty of death. Convert or lose your head.” She made a slashing motion across her neck. “Were you aware of this?” Stella’s raised eyebrows expressed her outrage.

The thought of Nana’s lectures on the subject crossed her mind. “I may have heard of it.”

Stella visibly inhaled, as if steeling herself for something. “The more I read the more curious I became. Eventually, I started reading Wiccan books. That’s what my mother found in my room. It caused her to go berserk, accusing me of being a witch and putting the evil eye on people. Are you shocked? Do you still want to be my friend?”

A genuine smile broke across Leah’s face, and she surged forward to hug her friend only to have the shoulder safety belt cut into her neck and shoulder. Releasing the belt, she managed to wrap Stella in a tight embrace. “No worries, friend. I am not shocked. You won’t believe how not shocked I am.”

“Really?” The word tangled in Leah’s hair as her friend returned the hug with vigor. “Why is that? Most people might be weirded out or something.”

Leah laughed. “Have you met Nana?”

“Right,” Stella agreed, then chuckled. “You are the only person I know who has a grandmother who tells fortunes. I guess that makes you open to anything.”

“Not quite anything,” Leah murmured, easing out of the embrace. They were in a public place. “Too much hugging and we’ll be the next girl couple at Silverton High.”

“Oh, you didn’t know? We already are, thanks to our own mean girls and their campaign to keep you and Dylan apart. It isn’t going too well, though, thanks to my romantic interaction with Jacob ‘Thinks He’s God’s Gift to Women’ Collins.” Stella mimicked polishing her nails on her jacket.

“What? What’s this to do with you and Jacob? I thought you guys only had two dates?” Could this be happening? Did she need one more thing? Why couldn’t she have a reasonably quiet life where she didn’t flee bad guys in other centuries?

“You’re right. We only had two dates. I thought he was okay on the first date, so I agreed to the second. We kissed, but it wasn’t anything special, no chemistry. Still, Jacob couldn’t believe any lesbo wouldn’t switch teams after dating him or at least that’s what he’d want everyone to think. He made sure to tell everyone I was hot for him, as opposed to you. He may even give me another chance.” Stella pretended to fan herself as if overcome by the thought.

“Lucky you,” Leah teased.

Stella agreed with a chuckle. “What I want to know is which mean girl has her eye on Dylan that Team Evil is willing to put so much work into painting you and me with the rainbow paintbrush.”

What Stella suggested was something Leah hadn’t considered. Brianna and Alexis had boyfriends, but that didn’t stop them from flirting with every attractive male within range. Lauren, she didn't know. It might explain why they’d singled her out, then another thought occurred to her. “I guess I always thought it was me they picked on, but I think it’s you. Could be that Lauren has her eye on Jacob.”

Resting her hand on the door, Stella grinned as she swung the door open. “Well, she’s welcome to him. I’m not standing in her way.”

Leah hopped out of the car, making sure to lock it. The last thing she needed was for some slackers to decide to take the family car for a joyride. She waited for her friend to round the car to finish their conversation. “It could be Jacob has no interest in her, but she thinks you are the problem.” It was rather like her three newfound friends from the Burning Times who took the blame for sheep dying and crops not doing well.

“Yay me,” Stella said. “The bad thing is I can’t do anything about it. If I pretend to ignore Jacob for some strange reason, it will make me more desirable. No matter what I do, I am doomed.”

“I know the feeling.” Leah hadn’t really thought about what she was going to do when she next appeared in olden times. Apparently, she didn’t get to take things with her to prove she was not a local. Just as well. Something as innocent as an MP3 player would have been an instrument of the devil.

They entered the library, silencing their voices to escape the head librarian’s watchful eye. The somber head librarian appeared to have a special dislike of children in all forms, expecting or afraid they would bully her offspring, the books, with dirty fingers or bent pages.

 Stella looked up the books they needed in the online catalog. Most of them were not on the shelf. They managed to find a few books on anti-Semitism, but that was it. It appeared they weren’t the only people interested in the same topic. It would be helpful if some of the books came back soon. Taking the list of titles, Leah went to ask the reference librarian.

Both girls approached the reference desk quietly. A young woman, probably fresh out of college with her library science degree, looked up. “Can I help you?”

“Yes.” Leah placed the list on the counter. “My friend and I are working on a report for school, but we can’t find any of these books.”

The librarian looked at the list and mumbled a bit under her breath before looking up. “Can’t help you. I am surprised they are still in the online catalog. They were stolen a while ago.”

They weren’t spell books. “Why would someone steal them? They are only history books.”

The librarian nodded her head. “That’s true, but they may have presented a more honest and complete picture of the witch trials and persecution. Plenty of people around don’t want that. We aren’t even going to order replacements. They’ll just be stolen again.”

Stella grumbled beside her. “My mother.”

Leah turned in surprise. “What?”

“People like my mother are stealing them. I am not saying my mother stole your books. I doubt she even knew they were here. But someone who doesn’t want any diversity in his or her world.”

The librarian looked intrigued. “Yes, these monotheists think they run it.”

Another one? It always surprised Leah when she stumbled across someone not part of the dominant religions. There were Pagans all around her, or at least people who didn’t march with the leading faith. All the same, it wasn’t helping with her report or her more important personal research.

Leah turned away, and the librarian called out, “Wait.”

She bent low behind the reference desk, rattled some papers, and reappeared clutching a typewritten page with various Internet site names on it. “Here, this might help. You can use the library computers.”

Stella snatched the paper and read it with an avid expression. Leah murmured her thanks, eager to pull the paper from her friend’s hands. How weird was it that the woman would have the paper with all sorts of sites printed on it? Could be she’d pulled the paper out of her purse as opposed to a library file while rattling under the desk. Leah reached for the paper her friend held, but Stella slapped her hands away.

“I am not finished.” She hurried to a computer, leaving Leah to follow.

Her friend typed in the words to a site called Teen Witch. Looking over Stella’s shoulder, Leah asked, “Do you think you’ll get an unbiased opinion from such a site?” She knew the site and felt it was fair, but she wanted to know her friend’s opinion before she revealed any of her own secrets.

Stella spun on the desk chair and regarded Leah with a mixture of scorn and surprise. ”Seriously? You are asking me if I think the site is unbiased? I’m willing to bet it is more unbiased than any of those Holy Roller sites. Everyone has an agenda or an angle to promote. I think it is to our benefit to check out all angles.”

Leah agreed and scanned the paper for any site that might be beneficial to her, finding a registry of people killed as witches. She slid into a chair next to her friend and typed in the site address. What would she find? What did she want to find?

The site came up with a somber banner featuring old-time people standing on a scaffold, waiting to be hanged. Even though it was only a sketch, each person’s face mirrored identical confusion. How had they ended up there?

Leah began to read. This is an incomplete registry of people who were tortured and put to death due to the evil that often exists in the heart of men combined with the mob mentality, which results in the worst behavior of humankind. Make no mistake. This was a holocaust every bit as horrific as the one perpetuated on the Jewish race by Hitler. Unfortunately, not every name was recorded, due to the sudden violence of the acts. Often, people killed for being in the wrong place at the wrong time didn’t even have a chance to give their names. Other times, no one cared. The surviving relatives worked to piece together a registry of sorts to remember those whose lives ended too soon.

The search box beckoned to her. She first typed in Old Margaret’s name only to find plenty who had died as accused witches. No help there. She typed in Sabina’s name and got fewer names than with Margaret, but still considerable. Too bad, she didn’t know anyone’s last name. Still, “Henry” might work because not too many men had been witches. About two dozen popped up, obviously more than she’d thought. Looking around carefully, she noticed Stella was intent on writing something down that she’d found on her site.

She let her finger hover over the keyboard, unsure if she truly wanted to know. Then again, she might come up with nothing since the records did not have every name. She typed in Leah Carpenter, then pushed the enter key. An entry came up immediately.

Leah Carpenter, an unknown stranger to the town, sentenced as a witch to be burned at the stake.

She gasped, and her head snapped back, attracting Stella’s attention.

“Leah, what is it?” Concern filled her face.

“Um, nothing.” She stalled, swishing the mouse to close the window. Her friend might have been open to other religions, but her best friend traveling through different time periods and running from witch catchers would have been a little more to swallow. That she might have to rescue the past Leah if she wanted to exist now would have been even harder. Still, she could use some help, even if it was only moral support.

She maximized the screen and turned the monitor so Stella could see it.

Her eyes flickered over it. “How weird that someone long ago had the same name as you. Creepy, isn’t it?”

“You have no clue.” Despair flavored her voice, making it tired and flat.

Stella’s face grew troubled. “You don’t mean…” She pointed at Leah and then the computer screen, the obvious question apparent in her eyes.

“Yes, I do think it’s me, which is the reason I wanted to find out more to avoid dying in some medieval village at the hands of angry peasants.” She attempted a sheepish smile, hoping it didn’t resemble indigestion more.

Stella shook her head slowly as if trying to shake something off. “Is this like some ancestor you’re trying to get in touch with?”

“I wish.” Things would have been a lot simpler that way. “Nope. For some reason I seem to slip into another time unexpectedly. I’m sure you heard about me leaving school today.”

“Who hasn’t? Gives you a few bad-girl vibes just to keep things interesting. I was waiting for you to tell me where you went. Did you sneak off campus? Go hide in the second gym like most of the skippers?” Stella wiggled her eyebrows on the last question. They’d both previously discussed the stupidity of skipping school only to end up hiding underneath the bleachers of the rarely used old gym.

Leah inhaled. Here it went. It was one thing telling Nana, who believed in mind-out-of-body travel, but she wasn’t a hundred percent sure this was what was happening to her. “I wasn’t in school today because I was in some hut at the edge of a forest, eating dried fish with three other alleged witches.” She watched Stella mull over the concept as her eyes flicked up to the ceiling as she chewed her bottom lip.  At least, she didn’t immediately call her crazy.

“Bet you didn’t mention that to Principal Sharpe.”

The interest in her friend’s voice indicated she didn’t totally disbelieve her. “Nope, I kept insisting I was in the hall. I was surprised how much time had passed. It didn’t seem that long. Maybe time moves faster when you are running for your life.”

Stella touched her foot to hers. “Hey, what can I do to help?”

“I’m not sure. Believing me helps. I’m trying to find out what I can about that time to protect myself. You could cover for me if I disappear in the future. I can be walking down the music hall and suddenly I am in the forest.” The ability to flash in and out of centuries baffled her. It would have helped if some warning bell would sound, preparing her for the shift, but it never did. How a person prepared for such a thing baffled her. The best she could do was accumulate knowledge.

Stella agreed with a head bob and a somber countenance. “What else? That seems like such a small thing to do. I would have done that without knowing where you were.”

       Chewing on her thumbnail, Leah wondered what her friend could do. Stella was as good a student as, or better than, she was. Her friend hovered between going into law and becoming an investigative reporter. If you wanted to get to the root of something, you asked Stella to look into it. “I’m trying to find out more about the time I shifted to, thinking I could find something to help me when I do. Henry mentioned something about everyone dying a witch’s death in a couple of German villages, even the children and priests.”

“Goodness, that’s hard to believe. Who’s Henry?” Stella turned backed to the computer and typed in “witch hunts in Germany.”

“Henry is the man helping us to escape the mob who wants to string us up or light a fire under us. I am not sure what the prevailing method is.” Leah looked over her friend’s shoulder at the various sites that popped up. She pointed to one. “Don’t bother going there. That man is whacked. Supposed to be a college professor or something, and he doesn’t even know that King James deliberately changed the verse ‘Thou shall not suffer a poisoner to live,’ and substituted ‘witch’ for ‘poisoner.’ He definitely has an agenda to sow more hate and prejudice.”

Stella continued to scroll down the entries, squinting. She had a hard time focusing on print and refused to put on her glasses in public. She complained they made her feel like a little old lady. Leah figured it had something to do with her glasses making her look smart. Everyone knew smart girls were on the bottom rung of the flirtation ladder, unless some guy wanted to copy your homework. Neither one of them was desperate enough to fall for that obvious trick. Okay, maybe once, but never again.

Stella still stared at the screen. “I think I found it.”

Leah leaned forward to see, and everything went black.

* * * *

 The darkness became gray, but still dark, with a few spots of brightness where torches glowed against stone walls. The rough stone floor chilled her bare legs. Fingering her skirt, she realized it was a rough homespun material. Guess it was too much to come back as a princess in jewels and satin.

Something heavy weighed down her arms. A large hand wrapped around her slender biceps. Make that, one around each arm. An upward glance revealed a pair of muscular brutes. One cracked a grin, showing his rotted teeth. Apparently, dental care didn’t rate in this time.

“Bring the prisoner closer,” an authoritative voice rang out.

Leah was betting it was her skeletal friend, but she couldn’t see him. Expecting to walk, she pushed up with her quads as the thugs pulled her upright. Stifling a moan, she experimentally put her weight on one foot. Her leg crumpled as if it were wet spaghetti. Instead of letting her fall, her guards held tight to her arms and dragged her the few yards.

A pair of lit, tapered candles revealed that once again she faced her good buddy, making her question why the two of them appeared bound together in some type of karmic dance.

“Closer.” The guards dragged her a few steps closer. “Now, leave.” He clapped his hands, treating the guards as no more than trained dogs.

The men dropped their hold. The sudden loss of support dropped her, and her knees crashed into the hard stone, making her wince in pain.

“Not so high-and-mighty now, are you, Arabella?” The man purred the words as if delighted. He put his bony fingers on his knees and leaned forward, attempting to look in her eyes.

Leah wiggled her toes and fingers. They all worked, but why had her legs refused to hold her? It made no sense. The man called her Arabella, which could be her name in this time. He said it as if he knew her, which made it personal. Who knew? Could Arabella have done something bad to him? It might explain why she wasn’t already dead. She flexed a shoulder as she pushed up into a seated position. The motion hurt, but she could still manage, which was a plus. Still, there was this man. Truth might serve her for once. She hoped it would.

“Excuse me, sir. I think you mistake me for someone else. My name is Leah.” She crossed her fingers, hidden under her skirt.

“Leah.” He said the name and laughed. “Taking on the name of the less-favored sister will not save you. You were always Arabella, even though your parents chose to give you an elegant name much above your station. They hoped for something better for you than to be a wife of a farmer or a traveling tinker. Maybe you did as well.”

His dark eyes stared into hers without blinking. She turned away, never any good at these staring contests. He wanted something from her, but what? A confession of some sort? It was personal. No doubt about it. Henry thought those accused of being witches had been on the wrong side in political battles. Margaret had declared it was because she had no husband or family to stand for her. Sabina had blamed her accusation on being too pretty and single. It was enough to damn her in most of the town women’s opinions.

She scooted her legs underneath her, ready to rise. Her muscles trembled, spasmed even, reminding her of the time she broke her personal best in the 880 run. The way her legs had shaken the entire trip back had frightened her. The coach had kept urging her to drink more and eat a banana. She was sure she hadn’t run any races now, but she might have. Pressing her fingers into her leg muscles didn’t stop the trembling.

“Ah, the shakes usually accompany torture.” He stretched out his arm as if to touch her.

Leah jerked back, lost her balance, and fell backward to slam her head against the floor. She lay for a moment with her eyes closed. Feeling the stones against her back, she rested, not knowing what to do next. Could she possibly play dead? Numerous people talked about surviving the Holocaust by pretending to be dead. It might work for her. Breathing in deeply, she held her breath. How long it would take to convince her captor she’d expired?

The sound of the chair scraping against the wood as the man stood indicated her performance lacked some authenticity. She heard the rustle of his robes along with his accompanying footsteps. She willed herself not to move, to hold perfectly still. Actors did it in movies all the time. Why couldn’t she?

His shadow loomed over her, touching her. “Oh, Arabella,” he said softly.

She’d hoped believing she was dead, he might feel some regret for treating her so poorly. A metallic sound echoed off the wall. Her head snapped off the ground, bowing her back into a curve with agonizing pain to her neck, forcing out a gasp as her eyes flickered open. He held a short chain in his hands attached to a cool metal band that her trembling fingers found encompassing her neck.

Pulling her slowly back into a sitting position, he dropped the chain. “Arabella, you could never fool me, a lesson that never took. You used to call me your own beloved Lionel, but now you pretend we have never met.”

, She was right thinking it was an intimate matter. Hard to imagine there was anything to love about this malevolent bag of bones, but perhaps there had been at one time.

Should she flatter the man? Tell him how she missed him? Pretend to recognize him?

The decision vanished as she found herself in the rolling chair beside her friend in the county library.