Demon in Salem Read online

  “You know, it’s really creepy when you stare like that,” she told him, squinting her eyes before looking away. Opening the pizza box, she reached for a slice and the remote to the television, turning on one of her favorite movies. She tried hard to ignore the chill running down her spine, as if someone, or something, watched her.

  8. SAMUEL

  Samuel started when she spoke to him. How did she know he had been staring at her? She was fine when she went to get the pizza but seemed uneasy when she came back into the house. He’d been studying her, watching her interact with her pet, and wondering what was in the box.

  He waved his hand in front of her face, while she was staring at him, to see if she noticed. Her gaze looked through him and then she turned away, and he realized she must have been talking to the dog. The little rat was still watching him, splitting his attention between him and the food his mistress held. She’d told him he couldn’t have any and Samuel sniffed when she fed pieces of the cheese-covered dough to him, regardless.

  Samuel watched her eat, taking bite after bite of the food, licking her fingers as she pulled pieces of the cheese off and popped them into her mouth. She finished her first slice, and her little pink tongue darted out, licking the oil off her index finger before she popped the digit to her first knuckle between soft, dewy lips and moaned.

  Groaning, Samuel adjusted himself to watch her better as she picked up another slice and started all over again. This was it, he was in Hell. This was what the witches wanted. They wanted him to suffer. If his astral form were any indication of what was happening to his body secreted below, he would spend a harrowing night recovering from this little vixen. Still, knowing how he would suffer, Samuel couldn’t bring himself to look away.

  He reminisced about his past life. Watching her brought back memories of the days before his enslavement. A consummate lover of women, he had given and taken pleasure as often as he could find a maiden to share his bed, and it was quite often indeed. The women of his time may have been demure and proper in public but get one of them in private, and they became lustful animals ready for the plucking. And pluck he did.

  For a moment Samuel wondered why none of the other women who lived in this house in the past had arisen such a strong reaction from him. Thinking through a list of past occupants, he realized this one was the only young and available one who came through the house. The thought made him feel better. It meant he wasn’t attracted to her because she was adorable and sexy, and ate doughy cheese covered bread like it was her last meal, all at the same time. He found her attractive because she was the sole eligible woman he had come across during his confinement.

  As she sat back into the v created by the couch and the chaise, he tried to convince himself he wouldn’t be attracted to her if there were other options available. He couldn’t help smiling as her eyes drifted shut, and she snuggled down into a thick throw blanket, her rat curling up to sleep in the triangle her bent legs made against the couch. He watched her and told himself she would still have to go.

  9. SARA

  Sara dozed off, cuddling into the couch with Chico curled up beside her, and sighed with contentment. It had been a long month, but she was finally spending her first real night in her new home. She figured last night didn’t count since none of the furniture was in place.

  Yawning, she contemplated going to bed but decided her spot on the new couch was far too comfortable. Somewhere in the twilight between wakefulness and sleep, she dreamt about a man she’d never met. He lounged next to her, leaning back into the corner of her new sofa and facing her. One of his legs hung over the front edge of the couch while his other foot rested on the cushion, his arm dangled over his bent knee, and his hand hung in a relaxed posture.

  The man watched her with hazel eyes through shaggy brown hair that was too long for current fashion, his look reminding her of those guys who spent hours trying to look like they just rolled out of bed, though it seemed natural on him. Several days of hair growth along his square jaw added a touch of danger to his look. He wore only a pair of tight black linen pants; the bottoms cinched right below his knees. They reminded her of pants the actors sported in witchcraft trial reenactments or movies about pilgrims.

  After an indefinable amount of time, he stood, and she admired his trim, muscular figure. He looked like a man who worked hard outdoors, honing his muscles through hours of physical activity rather than hours spent in a gym. He walked around the couch and out of the room, his attitude screamed ownership of his surroundings.

  A door slammed shut startling her into full wakefulness. She realized she must have dreamt the noise when Chico gave no reaction to the sound. Shaking her head, she picked him up and carried him into the master bedroom and the large waiting bed.

  Sara snoozed the alarm on her phone for the third time. Mornings were the worst in her opinion, although you could hardly call it early. One of the best things about working for yourself was being able to wake up at whatever time you wanted.

  Soon after she graduated from college, the first position she accepted was an early morning job running cybersecurity for an international bank chain. It took less than three months of commuting an hour each way and working ten-hour days for her to decide the corporate life wasn’t for her.

  Somehow, she stuck with it for more than two years while she learned what she needed to know to branch out on her own. She still did contract work with them but was happier since it was on her own terms.

  Her current client was too needy for her taste, but they didn’t blink an eye at her fees, so she took them on. She was testing their innovative security technology, one they had bragged about being impenetrable. It had taken her less time to break through their tech than it did to write the report about their security flaws.

  Sara glared at the door, wondering what horrors awaited her on the other side, and sighed as she stood to take a shower before facing the day. Turning on the shower, she went to relieve herself while the water warmed.

  After stripping out of yoga pants and a tank top, she stepped under the hot spray, cracking her neck back and forth, and released a deep breath. She had lived in her new home for a few months and no longer had any doubts that haunted houses were real.

  Things were happening in waves. At first, it was just the TV turning on or off, blinds rattling, doors slamming, or sometimes things falling off of hooks. She decided whatever the presence in her house was, if Sara had to assign a gender to it, it was male. His taste in television left much to be desired, she could do without the constant stream of sports and action movies he preferred.

  All of the little incidents led up to larger, one-time phenomenon and then all activity would die down for about a week before restarting. The last big event, Sara walked out of her bedroom to find all of her furniture overturned in the night. It had been a pain to set the house back to rights, but in the grand scheme of things, it hadn’t taken long.

  She ran shampoo through her hair, tilting her head into the stream of scorching hot water to enjoy the warmth on her face. If her calculations were correct, she could expect something huge on the other side of the door.

  A loud boom of thunder made her jump as she picked up the bottle of conditioner, the surprise causing the object to slip from her hands. Moving her feet back so the large container wouldn’t smash into her toes, she bent to pick it up while looking out the window in the bathroom.

  It might‘ve been ten o’clock in the morning, but the weather outside made it feel like midnight. No wonder she hadn’t woken up before her alarm went off. Sara probably would have slept until noon if she didn’t have it.

  Another crash of lightning caused the windows to rattle and the power to flicker. Grimacing, Sara finished her morning routine and jumped out of the shower. She enjoyed long showers on a good day but shuddered at the thought of being in the bathroom with no lights. This house was surprisingly dark without any inside illumination.

  Returning to her bedroom, she took the towel and
wrapped it around her head. She went to her dresser to find clothes for the day. She opened the drawer and frowned realizing when she ruffled through the contents, she didn’t have any underwear. All of her clean clothes were on the table next to the dryer waiting to never be put away.

  Sighing, she walked to the door, opening it to peek out. Chico, popping his head from under the blankets, heard another crash of thunder and disappeared back under the sheets to wait out the storm.

  “Some help you are,” Sara growled at him as she opened the door wider and walked out into the main room. Her unwanted roommate may like to torture her by playing exceedingly ingenious pranks, but since the last time she’d gone streaking through the house, they had gotten far less sinister and more playful.

  Walking down the hall with her phone in hand, in case the power went out, and she needed a flashlight, she kept her eyes open for the latest surprise. She didn’t see anything until she was almost in the kitchen, having to pass it to reach the utility room and her waiting clothes.

  There was something on the counter, moving slightly, but it was too dark in the room to see it clearly. Sara had placed nightlights throughout the living room and hallways so she could see when she needed to get up at night, but they didn’t reach the kitchen. Lightning flashed again, illuminating the kitchen for a split second, and she could have sworn she saw a baby.

  “Right. I’m not doing this naked.” Instead of turning on the kitchen lights, Sara turned away from whatever it was and went into the utility room.

  Flipping on the lights, she dug through the pile of clothes on the counter until she found underthings, a fresh pair of lounge pants, and a t-shirt. So far, her spirit had never tried to hurt her, merely scare the shit out of her. That knowledge made it easier for her to turn her back on whatever was in the kitchen.

  Sara dressed and wavered for a moment, steeling herself for a nasty surprise, and flipped on the lights to the kitchen using the switches next to the utility room door. Sitting on the counter was a porcelain doll, dressed in an old-fashioned white communion outfit, with red splattered all over it. It had red in its patchy and ragged hair, running from empty eye sockets, and smeared all over the dress.

  She blinked, keeping her face neutral while she got over her initial shock, then laughed. The dolls head spun on the socket, and its little arms waved, shaking the dolls tiny fists at her.

  Sara raised an eyebrow and walked to the cupboard, removing two coffee cups. Pouring freshly brewed coffee, thanks to the timer on the pot, into both mugs, she carried one over to the doll and set it before the ragged little thing.

  “How do you take your coffee, Rosemary’s baby? Black like your soul?” Sara chuckled. Sometimes she cracked herself up. Turning to get milk from the refrigerator, she didn’t take her coffee black, she sprung away from the counter as both coffee mugs went crashing to the floor.

  “What the hell! That was my coffee!” Sara yelled as if it wasn’t obvious. She was about to reach for the pot when it came flying out of the automatic brewer and also smashed on the floor.

  “Are you fucking serious?” Not only was that her favorite brewer, but she needed coffee to remain a kind and sane person, and now her liquid life was cooling on the cream-colored tile. Side-stepping the glass and ceramic on the floor, she walked to the cupboard and pulled out her backup French press. It was a more time-consuming way to make coffee, but at least she could still have a cup before she had to pick up the broken glass on the floor.

  As she reached for the coffee canister on the counter, it lifted and hovered several inches over the bar. The container wavered dangerously in the air.

  “Don’t you dare,” she growled at the invisible person holding her precious coffee. The canister’s lid came off, and coffee grounds exploded from it, dusting every surface with a coarse brown powder. She stood there with her mouth hanging open, her shirt covered with the stuff, in complete disbelief. This was the meanest thing her spirit had ever done to her.

  “That’s it, I’m calling an exorcist.” Sara pulled the hem of her shirt from her body and beat it with her free hand, trying to dust it off, glad it was a dark color so the coffee didn’t show on it. As she looked up, letters started to form in the powder that had fallen on the counter, the doll slumped and lifeless next to it.

  GOOD LUCK

  Sara blinked once, then twice, and nodded. “Alright, if that’s how you want to play.” She walked out of the kitchen and over to the television, unplugged it, and wrapped the cord around the legs of the stand, tying it with a knot so he wouldn’t be able to get it undone.

  “No more TV for you.” Sara put her shoes on. “Chico! Time for a car ride!”

  She grabbed her laptop bag from the top of the shoe rack next to the door and swung it over her shoulder. Grabbing Chico as he came running around the corner, she placed his harness and leash on him and scooped him up in her arms to carry him to the car. Thanking the weather for giving her a break in the rain, she picked up her keys and left the house, slamming the door behind her.

  10. SAMUEL

  Samuel watched Sara go with a glare. He couldn’t believe she took away the television, it was the highlight of his day. There was so much information about the world contained on that bright screen - the world had changed a lot in the last several years. Not to mention, it was a great relief from the boredom of sitting around an empty house all day. It was nice to watch what he wanted and not what the family living there chose.

  He looked over the mess he made and grimaced, feeling bad. After several attempts to scare Sara away, Samuel was running out of ideas. She was always indifferent to his antics, raising that damn eyebrow and walking away. When he would cause a mess, Sara would clean it up as if he were a toddler, with a disappointed frown. That look was making him feel worse than it should.

  The worst part of this new living arrangement was that he actually enjoyed having her around. She would talk to herself, to the dog, and sometimes even to him, though she acted like she was talking to the house. Samuel liked to believe she was talking to him. It was a new experience for him to feel so included in everyday life and he looked forward to future moments with her.

  Some evenings she would ask what they should watch while she ate dinner. If she left the remote on the table, Samuel would pick sports, and Sara would laugh, changing it and telling him not a chance. Depending on what she chose, Sara would hide the remote under the blankets or between the cushions so he couldn’t change the channel.

  At first, it upset him she kept changing the channel from what he selected. But, after a while, he got into the shows she watched. His favorite shows were on the cooking channel, Samuel wished he could cook for her. Food had been one of his earthly pleasures, and the selection now was mind-boggling. He had seen commercials for stores where they sold food in mass. When he lived, it was impossible to get food which was out of season or from places that grew different types. People didn’t know how fortunate they were to have it all at their fingertips.

  He walked to the doll, tipping it over with a small burst of energy. He learned early when he had made noise all night, trying to scare Sara, that she was an impossibly heavy sleeper. Last night he had the brilliant idea to use one of the old dolls stored in the attic to scare her, having seen the concept in a trailer for a new horror movie.

  One of the previous tenants, a sweet elderly lady, collected porcelain dolls. She had an entire room dedicated to restoring them and making new clothes for them. One day she complained to her husband she didn’t feel well and he took her away from the house. She never returned. Shortly after her husband came home and bundled all of her things up, placing them in the attic.

  The old man stayed in the house for another couple of months before selling it to a new family. Samuel didn’t have the heart to scare him away, the old man had been through enough. When he left, he didn’t take his wife’s things with him. He figured the old man had forgotten they were even there.

  In the dark of night, he made
his way to the attic and found one of the unfinished dolls. It was still missing the eyes which worked perfectly for his needs. In the same box, he located red paint. He would watch the old lady mix her dyes, expertly matching the colors to the existing paint on the dolls, and touch up their rosy cheeks and lips with it.

  With paint in hand, he went to work on the doll trying to make it as creepy as possible. He used it to create trails of blood on the dress, hair, and under the eyes of what had once been a precious baby.

  After his masterpiece was finished, he used an exorbitant amount of power getting it from the attic to the kitchen counter. He was very proud of his handy work and wondered what Sara would do when she saw it, he hoped she would scream.

  When she came around the corner, naked as the day she was born, he almost lost his nerve. That was a sight he would never forget. She was beautiful with her soft curves and plump behind. Every time he thought about her in that condition he grew aroused. He wanted to run his hands over what promised to be soft, creamy skin, to take her perky little nipples between his teeth and tease them into hard peaks. Shaking his head to snap out of it, he groaned to himself. His reactions to her were growing alarming.

  Looking at the mess again, he frowned. He spent a lot of energy to get the doll in place and move it. Her reaction, laughing and giving the toy a cup of coffee, had been so opposite of what he expected he flew into a tantrum. It was when he knocked over the first cup of coffee that she became upset, an emotion she never displayed.

  Sara’s reaction fueled his own rage, causing him to lose control and ruin not only her ready-made beverage but her ability to make more. He felt victorious until she stormed out of the kitchen, cutting off his entertainment, and leaving in a huff with the dog. That was when he felt like an ass. She would still have to go, but as he told himself again, his conviction was wavering.