The sharp splinters of wood in Circe's back made her every movement agony. All she could see was the endless blue void above, and even that spun and warped in her distorted vision. The voice of a chanting crowd reached her ears, sounding too close and impossibly far away at the same time. Before Circe could discern what they were saying, the voices came to a stop.
Gritting her teeth through the pain, Circe finally managed to sit up. The rope that once bound her to the now shattered stake slipped to the ground, and a thick liquid-- most likely her own blood, which Circe tried not to think about-- poured down her back. Circe had landed near the tail end of a crowd of people, some of whom turned around to look at her. Their faces all blended together with a surreal, nightmarish appearance. Slightly further away, an empty oak tree stood, with what appeared to be a rope or vine hanging from one of the branches. Circe turned and desperately tried to flee. Each step felt like daggers through her body, but she pressed on. No amount of pain could compare to what the bloodthirsty mob had in store for people like her.
The reality that Circe wouldn't make it far set in fast. Shouting voices behind her ramped up in volume, her steps stumbled, her vision faded. Before long, the world went dark and silent.
Circe stirred to the sound of rhythmic tearing and melodic humming. A surprisingly beautiful stranger ripped up a sheet of white fabric into long strips, seemingly unaware that Circe was awake. The stranger's deep black hair fell in relaxed, unkempt layers. Her pale violet kimono-- violet, Circe had never seen such an expensive color worn so casually before-- swished with every movement the stranger made, letting the intricate gold and red patterns on the fabric catch the light. Her slender frame...
No. Circe did not have time to stare at a woman like this. She was still in danger. While the stranger's back was still turned, Circe-- against the wrathful protest of her wounds-- took in her surroundings. Now, where did that scoundrel put her--
Oh. The ashes and wand were placed on a nightstand just off the side of the bed, within Circe's reach. She thanked her lucky stars that her sisters' ashes were safe, but it felt so... odd. Not many would allow someone like her to keep these things, or turn their back to someone like her while working from the other side of the room. Circe kept looking around, seeking to find out as much as she could about her mysterious host.
The bedroom Circe found herself in had the pristine cleanliness of an owner who was used to the presence of guests. On one wall, ink-brush paintings hung over a calligraphy desk with neatly stacked papers and inkwells from unfinished projects. A wisteria tree drooped right outside the near window, and its hanging flowers weaved an intricate pattern of shadow through the sunlight that illuminated the room. The far side of the room was dominated by a large wooden bookshelf. Circe was most intrigued by the several home-bound tomes that seemed to have a magical air to them, nestled discretely within the philosophical and scientific texts that made up most of the shelf.
Circe's situation seemed to make a lot more sense.
The tearing of fabric came to a stop. The stranger, finished with her work, turned around to find Circe awake and sitting up. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" She rushed to Circe's side. "Take it easy, you can't be m--"
"Unhand me!" Circe screeched, pushing the stranger away from her before a sharp pain pulled her to her senses. The moment her heart stopped racing, Circe looked up and saw the bright green eyes of the stranger who saved her life well up with tears. "I... I'm sorry."
The stranger stepped back and took a deep breath. "No, it's fine. I shouldn't have ran at you like that." She paused for a moment, gathering her strips of fabric and her thoughts. "I'm Helena. Nice to meet you!"
"My name's Circe."
"What a lovely name." A small smile formed on both of their faces. Helena stepped forward, then paused. "Is it okay if I replace your bandages, Circe?"
Circe quickly nodded, and Helena got to work. She moved slowly, taking great care to remove the bloodstained cloth wrapped tightly around Circe's body without further agitating her wounds. For a while the room was quiet, the silence only broken by Helena's soft apologies every time Circe winced or flinched. Both women were itching to say something, each struggling to find the right words.
Helena found her words first. "You really saved me back there, by the way. Thank you."
Circe tilted her head. "I saved... you?"
"The noose at the front of the crowd... That was for me. You drew the crowd's attention and I was able to get away."
"What did they want you dead for?"
Helena glanced at the ashes and wand on the nightstand. "I think you know."
Circe knew all too well. "Such loathsome people."
"And they'll never change," Helena sighed. She quickly put on a plastic smile, ever eager to move on from the specter that haunted every witch in the New Continent. "But they're probably tearing my house apart, so they won't be finding this place any time soon." Helena tied the last new bandage tightly around Circe's waist, humming as she worked. "There!" The rascal stole a kiss on Circe's cheek after punctuating the end of her task. Circe should have been incensed by the audacity, but instead she turned crimson, and a smile she couldn't suppress crept across her face.
The next five years were a whirlwind. Circe and Helena moved back to Salem from the home of Helena's ancestors in Somerville. The two of them built a life hiding in plain sight, brought together by their burning need for vengeance. Circe and Helena honed their magic, stockpiled as many magical items as they could find, and bided their time. For five years, Circe and Helena prepared their wicked scheme.
October 30th, 1691. That day was seared into both of their minds. That day was etched in cypher within Circe's grimoire a million times. That day was scratched into the walls of the basement where the supplies for the ritual they had spent half a decade preparing for were stocked away from the prying eyes of Salem. Circe and Helena could never allow themselves to forget that day. It was a year before Circe's time, and it would become eve of her revenge.
Early in the morning, Helena heard Circe's mumbling voice from the basement. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and went downstairs to find Circe fussing with the supplies and poring over the plans in her grimoire. Again. "Honey, it's not even sunrise..." she groaned.
Circe made no indication that she heard anything at all. She continued to pace around the room, frantically searching every inch, every page, for a defect that would never appear.
"Circe!" Helena hissed.
This time, Circe took heed. She whipped around to face Helena, evidently startled by the interruption. "Wha?"
"My love, we can recite the ritual in our sleep. There is no more preparation that needs to be done, especially not at this hour."
"I know, honey, it's just..." Circe winced, struggling to make herself voice the horrible fears that haunted her mind. "What if something goes wrong?"
"The whims of Fate are uncontrollable, but--"
"What if something goes wrong, and I could have prevented it?"
Helena paused. She knew her partner too well by now. There were a million ways Helena could rationalize the situation, and none of them would matter. None of them would address the raw anxiety that led Circe to this moment. Helena approached her partner and pulled her into an embrace. "If something goes wrong, we will get through it together. No matter what, I promise you will have your revenge."
It was a while before they let go. How lucky Circe was, that her sisters guided her to such an amazing woman.
"How about we get dressed?" Helena offered with a smile. "We could use some fresh air."
Circe and Helena made their way onto the bustling streets of Salem. Most of the town was out and about, trying to make the most their final day of normalcy before the lockdown that would take place on All Hallow's Eve. Helena, bouncing through the morning market with a spring in her step and a bag full of riches she soon wouldn't need, fit right in. Nobody noticed Helena's eyes turn black as she surveyed the town for magic.
There were no ley lines in this part of Salem, so Helena watched the small wisps of magic pulse weakly in the souls of the townsfolk. One man wearing the traditional townie garb had a rather large amount of magic radiating from his soul, and he looked right into Helena's blackened eyes as she passed. The two of them exchanged a silent nod of acknowledgment and moved on.
While Helena examined Salem's townsfolk, Circe took the time to scope out the town itself one last time. Over the past 5 years, Circe had been noticing odd differences between the Salem she knew from her past and the Salem she returned to after meeting Helena. Some of the richer townsfolk wore flashy suits and thin dresses that matched the unusual style of Don and his lieutenants. The restaurants and food stalls in this part of town were all vastly different, with big, colorful signs that assaulted the eyes in their battle for the attention of hungry customers. Circe scoffed at the sight of a huge red banner advertising "Don's Pizza."
Still, the layout of Salem itself never changed, and that meant Circe could easily navigate the place as she always had. The abandoned settlement that once served as a hideout for Circe and the Mafia was still there, though she was never foolish enough to try to use it while remnants of the mob she left behind were still in Salem.
Helena stopped Circe at a large black building with no sign. The gold accents and sparkling glass chandeliers displayed opulence in a way that seemed like it was trying to be subtle, but who did the owners think they were fooling? The couple wore their fanciest dresses, and Circe still felt underdressed. It didn't help that the place was filled with people the couple had heard of but never met, who all looked at them as if they knew they didn't belong. Despite their odd glances, even the upper echelon of society couldn't say no to Helena's money, so she and Circe were eventually seated and served.
Circe and Helena had never been to this establishment, so neither of them expected a cart with stacked plates to be wheeled towards them. Gooey eggs, soft biscuits, crispy potatoes, salty ham, succulent fruits, and all manner of rich foods nearly filled their large table.
Helena wore satisfaction on her face as she sat among the most esteemed citizens in Salem. She did not need to blacken her eyes to know that no one else here wielded magic, and watching the royalty and high officials pretend they weren't staring made Helena's mind wander. She imagined a world where her presence wasn't unusual. A world where a sorcerer of her wealth could enjoy the same status as Salem's elites, rather than having to hide herself away from the prying eyes of those who would want her dead.
Circe, meanwhile, tentatively picked at her food, initially disturbed by the ostentatious display. This spread could feed an entire coven, and here they were indulging themselves. Circe's sisters were waiting for their justice while they were wasting time here. Circe took a deep breath and remembered Helena's words from earlier that morning. No matter how she wished it weren't so, they had to wait for Halloween to enact their plan. Helena was pulling out all the stops to make the day as pleasant as possible, surely Circe could allow herself to relax for just one day. For her partner's sake if nothing else.
And she had to admit, the food was really good.
Circe and Helena's bags and souls felt lighter after their meal. The tremors that Circe had spent all morning trying to suppress had finally slowed down, while Helena was jittering with newfound vigor. They quickly ventured out from this area of town, and made their way towards the commercial district.
Townsfolk eager to spend their money while they still had the chance flitted about the various shops, and Helena deftly wove her way among them. Circe had no use for trinkets, not when her revenge was so close. But, they made Helena happy, so she watched while her darling picked out ink for her paintings, leather for her books, fabric for her gowns. Helena emerged from the tidal wave to meet Circe, bags filled with countless new items and nearly as much money as she started with.
While Helena gushed at the various things they could create together, Circe slowly nodded in that half-paying-attention way that made Helena pause and notice just how drained her partner looked. Circe's energy for being around people was clearly running dry. "Let's go somewhere quiet," Helena said, and gently took her partner's hand. It was nearly time.
A cloudy afternoon near the end of October was no day to go swimming, which meant that Salem Harbor and its surrounding beaches were nearly empty, save for the dockworkers who kept to themselves and their task. The couple was free to take in the salty breeze of the sea. To hear the ocean waves glide along the shore, and the call of the seagulls overhead. To feel the sand crunch beneath their shoes as they walked across the harbor. To let all thoughts of tomorrow fade from their mind, and simply enjoy each other's presence. Circe and Helena watched the waves go by for what felt like hours, until the sun began to set.
Helena kneeled before her partner, a tiny box in her hand. "Circe, I..." Helena struggled with her words. "You've changed my life in so many ways since... I want to...'" Helena's carefully rehearsed lines fell apart in her mouth, leaving an awkward, clunky mess behind. With an unspoken "Sod it all," Helena flung the box open, revealing a silver ring with a large red gem embedded inside. "I love you more than the world, Circe. Will you marry me?"
Circe's world slowed to a crawl. The sounds of ocean waves and seagulls faded away. Church bells rang in Circe's mind, rang over a town that did not deserve to see them wed. "Helena, your light outshines the sun, so please don't take this the wrong way. I cannot do this." Circe reached forward to close the box, and with it the temptation to settle down. She imagined those same church bells clattering to the ground, over the ashes and rubble of a ruined Salem. A ceremony for two, just Circe and her beloved, at the culmination of their vengeance. A celebration of the day when her sisters could finally rest. "Not yet."
Chapter 2/30
