| THE LORELEI SIGNAL |
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| Written by James Hartley / Artwork by Holly Eddy |
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| Avenge Me! |
"Jeremy, this house feels evil. I don't
like it. Let's go look somewhere else!"
"C'mon, Beth, that's the whole point.
There's no such thing as 'evil', it's just
creepy. Nobody else likes it, the price
is real low. We buy it, you're a witch,
you exorcise it or whatever it is you do.
Get it cleaned up and we keep it to live
in, or even better we sell it for a big
killing!"
"How many times have I told you,
witches don't do exorcisms? Priests do
exorcisms -- although I've never met a
priest who has actually done one."
"Well, hey, don't do an exorcism, then,
just cast a spell. Do one of them things
where you dance around naked in the
moonlight, get your girlfriends --
pardon me, your 'coven' -- to join you.
Especially that red-headed witch,
what's her name, sorta like in the
movie."
"Jeremy, you're hopeless. First, her
name is Glenda, not Glinda, and
second, we only perform those rites in
celebration of sacred days like the
equinox or the solstice. We don't do
them to get rid of bad spirits. Or bad
karma, or bad feng shui, or whatever
this house has."
"Beth, what's the point of you being a witch if you can't do things to help us out? I mean, if I had married you and then
found out you were a plumber, wouldn't I expect you to fix a leaky pipe?"
It was at times like this that Beth despaired. A plumber! Her friends, her coven, had all warned her about Jeremy. "If you
can't marry a witch," they had said, "at least marry a man who knows about Wicca and is sympathetic with it." But male
witches were scarce, and Beth was in love, and when all her hints about Wicca slid by Jeremy without evoking the faintest
response she just shrugged it off. Jeremy had been so pleasant, so courteous, so considerate. He had even made the
magnanimous gesture of letting her keep her name.
After the wedding everything changed. He moved into her studio apartment and took over. She soon discovered he was
out of work more often than not, and felt quite free to spend what little money she earned. Letting her keep her own name
turned out to be just a way for him to use her good credit rating, his was nonexistent. And there were vague hints that the
name he was using wasn't really his.
After almost a year of marriage she was sick of it and began to talk about splitting up. "I want a divorce, Jeremy. Or are
we even legally married at all, if you did it under a phony name?"
She was brought up short when Jeremy showed her the photos and videos he had taken of one of their Wiccan rites,
dancing naked under the midnight full moon in the town's public park.
"I know the DA," he said, "and he's also a Deacon in one of those Fundy churches. He'd love to go after a case of public
indecency. You don't want that, do you?" There was nothing she could say.
Jeremy was talking, yanking her attention back to the house they were looking at, the creepy house. "All we gotta do,
Beth, is buy this place real cheap, and live here two years. Then we sell it for a bundle and there's no taxes on the money."
He took her hand and started pulling her over to the cellar stairs. "C'mon, we still gotta check out the basement." Beth
didn't want to go, the bad feelings were stronger in this direction, but Jeremy kept tugging at her.
Most of the cellar had a dirt floor; there was cement floor only in a small area around the furnace and the water heater. In
the far corner the floor looked like it had been dug up at one time, a rectangle the size of a grave. "Jeremy," she asked,
"what's that on the floor over there?"
"Huh? What on the floor where?"
"That place that looks like it's been dug up. Over in the corner."
"Beth, sometimes I think you're losing it. The floor over there looks just like the rest of the floor. I don't know what you're
talking about!"
Beth went over to the corner, to the grave. It was clearly visible to her, but apparently Jeremy couldn't see it. The closer
she got to it, the stronger the bad feelings got. Then, as she stood over it, she heard a whisper, "Avenge me, avenge my
death!"
Beth looked over at Jeremy, but he showed no sign of having heard the voice. No surprise there! A grave, and a voice
from the grave, that only a witch could see or hear. She shuddered.
Jeremy interrupted her thoughts. "This place looks pretty good. We're gonna buy this place." She found out a little later
that he meant that she was going to buy the house -- her name on the deed, her credit getting the mortgage, and her
savings wiped out by the down payment. But after that it was his house.
Beth continued to be fascinated by the grave in the cellar -- she was convinced that it was indeed a grave. She would bring
her tools down the cellar and cast spells over it whenever she had a chance. She showed it to Glenda and Nancy and some
of the others in the coven, and while they could see the outline on the floor, none of them could hear the voice whispering
"Avenge me!"
For a long time she made no progress, but then Jeremy said he was going out of town for a week on business. Knowing
how little he was employed she suspected it was more likely to meet another woman, but by now she no longer cared. She
decided to use the time alone to try a vision quest. When everything was ready, she sat by the grave and drank the vision
tea. Darkness engulfed her.
When she awoke, the cellar looked somehow different, everything glowing with an internal light. A figure stood there
facing away from her, then it turned and she saw it was her husband.
"Jeremy!" she shrieked.
"I am not Jeremy," the figure said, "I am your spirit guide for your quest. I take Jeremy's appearance because he is pivotal
to what you seek. In the end all your choices come down to Jeremy."
"Can you tell me, guide," asked Beth, "who it is that asks to be avenged, and why? And is it my path to avenge them?"
"It may be your path," said the guide, "but it is a dark path, one you must be sure you are willing to pay the price to take.
A great evil was done here long ago, a good man was offered up as a human sacrifice by one of blackest heart. Look!"
Now she could see a man chained to a crude altar. A second man stood over him with a dagger, took his life, mutilated the
corpse, then buried the body in the very grave before her.
As the scene faded, the spirit said, "To avenge this requires no less than another human sacrifice, but this time, the
sacrifice of an evil victim by one of good and pure heart. Thus can the balance be restored. But human sacrifice of any
sort, even to achieve good, is a black art and will leave its mark on the practitioner. That is the price. The choice is yours."
"Who would I have to sacrifice?" asked Beth. Then suddenly the realization hit her. "Oh! The form that you, my spirit
guide, have taken...?" The spirit nodded, then everything went black again. When she came to, she was alone in the cellar,
the vision tea cold over the dead fire's ashes.
By the time Jeremy came home several days later, she was ready and had only to wait for the night of the full moon. That
evening, when Jeremy asked her to fix him a drink, she laced it with a special potion, one that would leave him paralyzed
but awake.
She wasn't sure how she could handle getting his body down the stairs, so before the potion had quite time to take effect
she lured him down the cellar, telling him there was a problem with the furnace. As it was, when he collapsed on the cellar
floor it was difficult dragging him across the cellar and positioning him on top of the grave, but she managed it somehow.
Jeremy was aware of what was happening. He tried to yell at her, but the potion affected his vocal cords enough to permit
only a whisper. She ignored him and proceeded with the sacrificial rite. He threatened, he pleaded, but to no avail. Finally,
Beth finished the ritual by gripping the hilt of the athame with both hands and plunging its razor-sharp blade into his heart.
He tried to scream but gave only a weak gurgle as his final sound.
As he died a dark shadow arose from the grave and enveloped his body. Then shadow, body, and grave all vanished. Beth
had been worried about disposing of the body, but there was nothing left.
The athame had vanished with the body, but Beth put away the rest of her tools, and then went upstairs. Her next priority
was to break into Jeremy's strongbox and destroy all the pictures and videos he had of the coven's nude celebrations in the
town park. She also packed his suitcase with the clothes and things he normally took on a trip and placed it in the trunk of
the car for disposal at some far distant spot. Finally, still shaking a bit in reaction, she went to bed.
For the next few days Beth was a little apprehensive, worrying that she might look out and see the police coming up the
front walk. But gradually she calmed down and started to feel better. After all, she told herself, you have avenged a great
evil, and gotten out from under the virtual slavery in which Jeremy held you.
A week later the coven was to meet at Nancy's house. Beth rang the bell and Nancy opened the door, but instead of the
warm friendly greeting Beth usually got, Nancy said, "Come in," in a voice that dripped icicles. Nancy led her into the
room where the rest of the coven waited, but nobody spoke, nobody smiled, nobody moved toward her. Even Nancy left
her standing barely into the room and joined the others on the opposite side of the room.
Finally Glenda, the coven leader, addressed Beth. "We know what you have done. You have practiced the black arts, and
the stain on your soul is visible to all. You have become a dark witch."
"But," protested Beth, "I did what I did to redress a great wrong. I did it for a good purpose."
"It matters not," said Glenda. "Black arts are black arts, no matter what the reason. You have violated your oath to the
coven to do only good, and we have unanimously voted to expel you. Oathbreaker, you are no longer one of us. Begone!"
All of the witches turned around, their backs to Beth, and she was left to find her way out.
As she headed home, the words of her spirit guide came back to her, "You must be sure you are willing to pay the price..."
Now she knew the price -- her coven, all her friends, becoming anathema to all good witches. Would she have chosen this
path if she had known where it led? She wasn't sure, but she knew she was going to have the rest of her life to reflect on
it.
Maybe the afterlife, too...
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