CHAPTER SEVEN

He still didn't know why he was in Salem. Massachusetts, of all the random places, but his vision had been clear. He needed to be there, and he needed to be there immediately. Still, he wasn't sure what purpose this location change would serve.

He started unpacking the essentials, leaving the rest of his possessions in boxes in the hopes that he would leave soon. He lifted each of his beloved guns carefully out of their boxes, polishing them one at a time before placing them strategically throughout the apartment. Massachusetts might not have as high a crime rate as some of the other places he'd lived, but he liked to be prepared for anything. Years of experience had taught him that if something could go wrong, it probably would. It was better to err on the side of caution.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the antique full-length mirror that had come with the apartment. His tan skin was set against his long, curly black hair, which was held back in a ponytail. He was extremely muscular, more because staying in shape often meant staying alive than for any vain reason. His dark brown eyes stared back at him almost accusingly.

"I don't know what I'm doing here," he said to his reflection, "so stop looking at me like I'm insane. I had a vision. I followed it. They've never steered me wrong before." Silently, he added, Of course, there's a first time for everything...

His business line rang. He let the newly purchased answering machine pick it up. The recording was automated, the way he liked it. People didn't need to hear his voice until he decided it was time.

"Hello, Sir. My name is Erylia. I hear that you deal in a business that may be of use to my associates and I," a female with a deep voice said. "Please give me a call as soon as you can. I think you'll find my proposition quite tempting." Her voice promised things beyond money. Hints of vampiric Seduction radiated off of her through the phone line.

She's a bold one, he thought. Few people came on  quite that strong when requesting his services. She left her number, and he jotted it down.

Almost immediately, the telephone rang again. "Hello, Mr. Blackwell," a man said on the answering machine. "I am Luigi Ossinini. I would like to welcome you to Salem, and request a meeting with you. I may have a job for you, if you're as good as the reputation that precedes you." He left a phone number and hung up.

"Two job offers in two minutes and I haven't even spread word of my arrival yet... Salem is a weird town," he said aloud. "And I thought the Bronx was a rough city."

His stomach growled and reminded him that he was hungry. It was time to get to know the town he was living in a bit before he handled business. Wearing a black suit and polished black shoes, he left the apartment.

There were witches and pirates everywhere. The Salem Witch symbol could even be found on the police cruisers. The houses were quaint, most with a nice old fashioned quality to them. These people had ordinary down to an art, but he knew it was an act. A town with a history as rich as Salem's was never ordinary.

He looked at the Salem Common and suspected he would enjoy sitting in the small park on a nice day, should he ever allow himself such a luxury. The waterfront called to him, but he walked by it, on a mission to find something edible that wasn't sold at a tourist trap. He discovered a small deli and decided to give it a try.

"What'll it be?" The short, round man at the counter asked.

"Roast beef on rye," he replied.

"Coming right up." The deli clerk turned to make the sandwich.

He's a New Yorker, judging from the accent, he thought to himself. Maybe the food will be halfway decent. Now if only I can find a pizzeria owned by a New Yorker...

"Here you go," the deli clerk said. "That'll be ten-eighty-nine."

With New York food comes New York prices, he thought. Good thing I have enough money to cover me for the rest of my life and then some. He paid the man and took his sandwich.

Sitting near the waterfront seemed appealing, so he headed back that way. He found a quiet spot and sat down to eat. Moments later, he spotted three teenagers standing nearby.

"Come on, Arnie," the short redhead was saying. "What's bothering you?"

"It's nothing," the male replied.

It was when the slightly taller girl spoke that he really noticed her. "It's just that time of the year," she said. She had her long blonde hair pulled into a rather funky style on top of her head, but she made it work. It was streaked with purple and blue. She wore combat boots, fishnets, a very short black skirt and a cut up red t-shirt that read "Goddess" in gold letters across the chest. He had to force himself not to stare at her. There was something about her that he was drawn to, although punks were not usually his type. Perhaps it was her very high power levels.

She's a vampire... And maybe a witch, too, he decided.

"I'm fine," The one called Arnie said. "Let it go already."

To his shock, the short redhead's eyes suddenly went from green to purple. She shook her head and they went back to green.

It must have been a trick of the light, he decided.

"Let's just go back to my place," the punk girl said. "Courtney's been baking all weekend."

"Courtney's baking? Say no more," Arnie said. "I'm so there.

"Food really is the way to a man's heart," the redhead said with a grin that made her look like a toddler. Then her eyes turned a seductive shade of blue and she added, "Well, that, and sex."

Hmmm... It's not a trick of the light after all, he thought. She must be some sort of shape shifter, or a faerie. She seems to be doing it unconsciously, though, so it's probably not a faerie glamour.

As the three teenagers departed, he found his thoughts returning to the punk girl. She was giving him a strong vibe, but he couldn't identify what it actually meant. She was either a very strong force of Good or the most evil entity he'd ever encountered. Either way, she was very attractive, and he had to admit that had a little bit to do with her image lingering in his mind long after she was gone.

~*~

"Did you notice the guy at the waterfront in the suit?" Aideen asked Melissa while Arnie pounced on Courtney's cookies.

"Which one? There were a few," Melissa replied.

"The one who kept trying to pretend that he wasn't looking at us."

"I didn't notice anyone looking at us. Was he a bad guy?" Melissa asked in concern. 

"I'm not sure. He wasn't being obvious about it. I just sort of felt his thoughts focusing on us or something."

"Maybe it was the way you were dressed. People who wear suits don't always know what to make of punks."

"No, I think it was more than that..."

"What did he look like?"

"Long black hair... Muscular... Very sexy and mysterious."

"Just your type?" Melissa teased her.

"Yeah, pretty much," Aideen admitted with a laugh.

"Well, if he's important, I'm sure your paths will cross again."

"If they do, I'm getting a phone number."

Melissa laughed. "Good for you. Getting over Jesse is healthy."

"Oh, please! I've been over Jesse since I broke up with him," Aideen lied. In truth, his actions still hurt, but she would never admit it. Jesse's friendship still meant too much to her, so she tried not to dwell on the fact that he'd cheated on her.

"Well, the best way to move on is to date a hot mysterious guy."

"And what about you?" Aideen asked.

"What about me?" Melissa asked in confusion.

"When are you going to tell Arnie to grow some balls and make things official with you? Neither of you have been with anyone else since you met, but he won't call you his girlfriend."

"He's my non-boyfriend boyfriend, loyal to the very end, even if it's just pretend, my non-boyfriend boyfriend," Melissa sang.

Aideen laughed. "Nice song," she said.

"Thanks. That was just the chorus. Maybe I'll add the full song to our set list for Four Chicks and a Dylan. Writing a song seemed like a good outlet, because if I don't laugh, I'll kick Arnie."

"And the problem with that would be...?"

Melissa grinned, and Aideen tried to push the strange man out of her mind, but found his image still lingered in her thoughts.

~*~

At exactly nine o'clock that night, the smell of sage wrapped around Annabella as Ambrosia smudged her, but she did not feel cleansed or comforted. The woods were filled with most of the Witches of the local community. The Phillips family, Alex, Cierra, Arnie, Melissa, and Dylan had all decided to attend the funeral for Annabella's slain children. Jade and Beth had made it back into Salem just in time to hear about what happened and pay their respects, and Aurora had gone with them. Several people from the Unit were also in attendance. Everyone was cloaked in black and white, to symbolize both death and rebirth.

It won't bring them back, Annabella thought. A ritual can't fix this.

"Sisters and Brothers, we gather here today to heal from a tragedy and help those touched by the loss move on, as well as to ask the Goddess to protect the children in their journey to the Summerland," Ambrosia announced. She led Annabella to the center of the circle. "Let us send healing light and strength to our sister."

Healing? How could anyone possibly heal from this? Annabella wondered. She knew she looked presentable on the outside. Augustina had seen to that. Inside, however, she was hollow. No amount of smudging or ritual or healing energy could help her now. She was lost, her soul buried in the ground with her children the moment they died.

"This place is not a place," Ambrosia continued. "This time is not a time. We stand halfway between the worlds of the Gods and of mortals."

"The sun sets in the West. Our tears are the water of life. As it flows and ebbs, may it ease our strife." Paulina recited, beginning a counter-clockwise version of casting the circle to reflect upon the fact that it was an end before a beginning.

"Of South, and of Night, of Fire, of Light, these children so have passed from sight," Lita said.

Oliver continued, "East and Air, bring compassion and care."

Olivia finished, "North, Earth is our Mother, return, return. There is always a lesson to learn."

Luigi turned to Ambrosia. "Hail Lady, Maiden, Mother, and Crone, Thou art with us always. Thou art Goddess."

"Hail Lord," Ambrosia returned, "Horned Hunter, loving Father, Thou art with us always. Thou art God."

"Creation is destruction is creation, birth and death, all must end to begin again, for all is a cycle, and we eternally grow," Ambrosia and Luigi spoke in unison.

"Blessed be these children, taken too soon for reasons as yet not understood," Ambrosia said.

"Do not linger, my children," Luigi said. "Your journey continues away from your earthly vessels. Your flesh shall feed the earth and bring life anew. Your souls will continue to grow."

Even though the violence of their deaths would often have called for a closed casket service or cremation, Annabella had insisted the children be buried in a way which would allow their bodies to return to the earth in the truest sense, without coffins or embalming fluid. Their bodies lay in the circle, and the four who had called the Quarters now surrounded them. Each child's body was slowly wrapped in a ritual cloth while the Quarters were released.

"The sun will always rise high in the Air again," Oliver said, releasing East.

"Life must continue as Fire must burn," Lita whispered, releasing South.

"Water is cyclic, as is mortal life," Paulina said, releasing West.

"All must return to the Earth for life to begin again," Olivia finished, releasing North.

Three white pillar candles were lit, one above each child's head. The small, private cemetery in the woods was a short walk away. Johnny lifted Raven's body in his arms as if she was a sleeping child and carried her to the cemetery. Luigi carried Blaze. Annabella carried Morganna's body in her arms, refusing to allow anyone else to do it.

When they arrived at the graves, the bodies were lowered in one at a time. When they tried to take Morganna from her, Annabella began screaming. "No!" She shrieked. "You can't take them! They're babies! They're just babies!"

"Bella... Bella, calm down," Augustina tried to soothe her, but Annabella pulled away from her twin sister and clutched Morganna closer to her body.

"If you bury them, you bury me!" She insisted.

"Shhh, Bella, hush now... We have to let them go."

"Hush? Did you just tell me to hush? They're not your children, Augustina! You don't get it! You'll never understand what it's like to have your heart ripped out because you don't have one!"

"Annabella," Luigi said gently. He put a hand on her shoulder, still channeling the essence of the God, and used his other hand to touch her face. "Your pain is strong, but your will is stronger. You can survive this. You are not alone. We are always with you."

"No," Annabella said. She jerked away from Luigi.

Ambrosia was about to let the Goddess give it a try, but Johnny put up a hand to stop her. Annabella was mourning, and in a way, she blamed the Gods for not saving her children. They would not be able to calm her down.

Johnny stood by Annabella's side. "I know your grief," he said softly. Opening up a piece of his past that he preferred to keep locked away at all times, he continued. "We all grieve with you. Most don't know your pain, to lose your husband, and then your children so soon after. I know this loss, Annabella. I'm sure you remember that I lost my wife and children years ago. My youngest was an infant, and my oldest was only seven. I remember the pain. I feel it every day, but I can honestly tell you that you will survive this. Now, it's time to let them go, Bella. Holding their bodies from the earth will not bring them back, but it may prevent them from moving on, and I know you don't want to do that to them. I know how much you love your children. Let us help them now."

Weeping, Annabella closed her eyes and nodded. She allowed Johnny to take her youngest daughter from her arms and return her body to the earth.

"We all come from the Goddess, and to her we shall return, like a drop of rain, flowing to the ocean," Ambrosia chanted softly. Slowly, the others joined the chant. As they chanted, each person took turns helping to bury the bodies. When the graves were finally filled, the chanting stopped. The sense of closure that normally followed these things was missing. How could anyone find closure when three children had been murdered in cold blood?

~*~

In another set of woods, at about midnight, the vampires held a different set of funerals. The Phillips were present at this one as well, although none of the others from the Wiccan ritual were allowed to attend. The vampires were enforcing a strict Vampires Only policy.

Having gone home only to change into ensembles of red and black and force down dinner, the Phillips were not in the best of shape. Courtney was nearly hysterical because her empathy had gotten so out of control at the first set of funerals. Clarissa wasn't doing much better. Needing a break, Aideen inched toward Danny.

"Hey, Deenie," he greeted her. He was much more somber than usual.

"I hate funerals," Aideen said. "I've been going to too many of them lately."

"How was the witch funeral? I would have paid my respects, but with the declaration of war, Johnny advised against it. He pointed out that they might attack me for showing up."

"It was rough. Annabella broke down. Johnny was the only one who got through to her, by bringing up his family..."

"I'd better call him after this. He doesn't like to talk about that. I'm pretty sure that he won't sleep tonight."

"What happened to them, Danny?"

"Deenie, I really shouldn't... It's not my place..."

"Like that ever mattered before? Come on, Danny. I heard the pain in his voice. I never even knew he had a family."

"He had a wife and three kids. The oldest was seven, and he was just as psychic as Johnny. He kept having visions about a serial killer."

"A seven-year-old who should have been working for the Unit?" Aideen asked in surprise.

"Exactly. That kid was impressive. Anyway, the killer found out about him somehow and broke into the house while Johnny was out. He tortured all four of them brutally. I'm not going into the details, but it was really bad. Johnny was driving home, and he had a vision about what was about to happen. Unfortunately, he got into a really bad car accident while he was stuck in the vision. By the time he was able to get word to the Unit to get to his house, everyone was already dead."

"My God, that's... There isn't even a word for what that is," Aideen said in horror. There had always been a sadness to Johnny, even when he smiled. Now, Aideen understood what had caused it.

"I know. It nearly destroyed him. It took Johnny a long time to bounce back. Your dad and I helped him, but it wasn't easy. He doesn't talk about it because it's still too painful for him. He's one of the strongest witches and precogs in town, but he couldn't save his own family, you know? He hates himself for it."

"I can't believe he went through all of that... Why don't I remember it?"

"You were little when it happened. If you were three, it was a lot. You knew his kids, though. With how close your dad and Johnny were, they were over at your house a lot. No one talks about it because it upsets him."

"I always thought that Johnny would make an awesome father."

"He was a really good dad. His kids worshipped him. I hate the way the world works sometimes. This amazing man who would do anything for his family lost them, but people who abuse their kids have them forever." Danny paused. "We'd better be quiet. Jacob's here."

Jacob Danvers was the Master Vampire of Salem, and was one of the oldest and strongest vampires in the world. His position demanded respect. Aideen had never especially liked Jacob. He was too intense, and he was kind of judgmental of people. Still, she knew better than to challenge his authority, and while she was one to make a scene, she wouldn't do it at a funeral. Even she had limits.

"Welcome," Jacob said. His voice was smooth and filled with power. He was very handsome, in the classic undead sense, with pale white skin and high cheekbones set against long, black hair and dark eyes. He hardly ever smiled, but that only seemed to make him more handsome. The female vampires tended to swoon over him. "I am pleased to see many of you here, although I regret the occasion that warrants this gathering," he continued.

He motioned toward the nine caskets lined up in a perfect row in size order. They were closed. "A terrible, terrible tragedy has occurred at the hands of our enemies. Tonight, we lay to rest nine young vampires, slaughtered in cold blood. We will see justice done, but for this moment, let us focus on the young lives we have lost."

There was absolute silence as Jacob pricked his finger and anointed each casket with a single drop of blood. "Blood for blood," he whispered. "Breath for breath."

Erylia repeated his actions and words, adding immortal Uanie blood to the mix. Lenore added her mortal Uanie blood, and Zeke gave the day walker blood. The four then joined their wounds to each other.

"We are united. We are one in our grief and in our recovery," they recited in unison.

"We ask now for a Reaper's assistance, as they are the holiest of the vampires, and this is our time of need. Please see these children through to the next life," Jacob said.

Aideen stepped forward. She had been asked prior to the ceremony to help, and now it was time. She was honored and slightly nervous. Her father had always been the one who was called in on these occasions, and now Jacob was entrusting her with the sacred ritual. She'd seen Benny do it many times, and she knew the ritual inside-out, but it was still odd to be the one doing things. She pricked her own finger and blessed each casket. "No more harm shall come to the fallen," she whispered when she was done. "I release them from their bodies and guide them to the next life."

The next part was harder. Most of the time, vampires were laid to rest like anyone else. In light of the nature of their deaths, however, the vampires had requested that the bodies be burned so no one could raise the corpses. The last thing these mourners needed was to see the dead children's bodies walking around under someone else's control. It wasn't always possible to lay a zombie to rest, and torching the body of someone you loved while their eyes stared blankly at you was one of the worst experiences anyone could have.

Focusing her energy on each casket, one at a time, Aideen set them on fire. A few of the day walkers howled in grief, but nearly everyone else remained silent. Vampires prided themselves on their composure, especially the Uanie and the undead. Right now, their dignity was all they had to comfort themselves.

~*~

An uneasy feelings hung in the air just before the sun rose. The collective grief of two communities seemed almost tangible as he walked through the streets of Salem. He walked into the quaint coffee shop and spotted the immortal Uanie vampire immediately. Her energy radiated, making it obvious what she was.

"I'm very pleased that you came by today, Mr. Blackwell," Erylia said as she stood up and shook his hand. "When I called, I told you that we had a job for you, and we do. It's very important. We are at war, and the loyalties of some among us are in question."

"I see," he replied. He studied her curiously. She hardly seemed like the type to hire a professional hit man, yet here they were. "And what, exactly, do you need me to do?"

"We are at war with the witches. Some of our numbers consider themselves active witches as well. I'd like you to find out who is betraying us."

"I'm not a private investigator," he replied flatly.

"I wouldn't want you to kill an innocent person," she said.

"Of course you wouldn't." I imagine you'd rather do that yourself, he added silently. Erylia did not strike him as the sort to shy away from bloodshed, being a vampire, but he also sensed a killer instinct in her that was stronger than many others he had met.

"I have the list here," she said, reaching for it.

"I told you, I'm not-" Evan began.

"Please!" She cut him off with a hint of desperation in her voice. "You don't understand, Mr. Blackwell. They've killed children. Nine children, brutally murdered without a drop of blood!"

He paused. Children dying was one of his pet peeves. He didn't like people who picked on kids. "Alright," he said. "I'll look into things for you, but you will have to pay extra."

In truth, he generally looked into the jobs he took before accepting them anyway. Some people deserved to die. Others did not. He tried not to kill the wrong ones.

"Money is not an issue," she assured him.

"Then we will get along just fine." He stood and shook her long, elegant hand again. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

"You as well, Mr. Blackwell."

He nodded and walked away. He only had to go about three doors down for his next meeting, and he spotted Luigi Ossinini inside of the diner immediately. It was hard to miss a man who walked around with twenty or so talismans around his neck, let alone one who radiated the amount of power that Luigi did. He'd obviously been a witch for quite some time.

"Mr. Ossinini?" He asked.

"Mr. Blackwell, I presume?" Luigi asked.

"Yes," he replied, shaking his hand. Luigi had a firm grip. "What can I do for you?" He asked as he sat down at the table.

"I would like to put you on retainer for some of the Salem Witches... We need a man of your skill."

He frowned. First, the vampires had hired him and now the witches were looking to do the same. Technically, that was a conflict of interest. "I am strictly a neutral party in your war, Mr. Ossinini."

"You know of it?" Luigi asked in surprise.

"Yes. In fact, I had a very similar conversation with a vampire less than ten minutes ago."

"Your reputation has put you on their radar as well as ours, then. Mr. Blackwell, let me stress, we are the good guys here. Those barbarians murdered three of our children."

"They say you murdered nine of theirs."

"We did not lay a hand on any child."

He noticed the deliberate choice of words. "Mr. Ossinini, you're witches. I doubt you'd need to lay a hand on anyone to harm them," he replied.

Luigi smiled in mild amusement. "How much do you know about our ways?" He asked.

"I know that witches generally frown upon harm, so I'm a bit confused as to why you're looking to hire me."

"We want justice, Mr. Blackwell."

"Of course you do."

Luigi handed him a list. "These are the people we would like you to take care of. No price is too high."

He accepted the list and was mildly impressed. "Addresses and photos? You are very thorough, Mr. Ossinini. Have you done this before?"

"No, but I assumed you'd need to know all of this to do your job."

He nodded. "I'll be in touch," he replied. He walked away and headed back to his apartment.

Turning on a light, he sat down and read the lists over. The vampires had only given him names, but he knew how to find people. While reading the list from the witches, however, he paused.

That's odd, he thought. I swear I saw that name before. He looked back at the vampire list, and sure enough, her name was on both. He shook his head when he saw the photograph of her.

Well, imagine that, he thought. The punk girl from the waterfront has gone and pissed off not one but two groups looking for blood. He was going to have to spend some serious time researching Aideen Phillips to find out why everyone wanted her dead.