Return to Danielsford: The Danielsford Saga, #2

By Charles J. Barone

Frank Jackson had almost forgotten about in the three years since he drove into the mysterious town.

Now, the nightmares are back, with the hideous woman ripping and tearing him to pieces.

Rebecca Collins has returned, intent on killing Frank and everyone close to him.

Frank, Mary Bradbury, Marjorie Putnam, and others return to try to send Rebecca back to hell.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Charles J. Barone
• Release date: Jul 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393257073

Charles J. Barone

Chuck Barone was born a long time ago, too long ago he says, to contemplate without slipping into bouts of self-pity. He began writing in 3rd grade.      A few years after graduating high school, it occurred to him to find a career. At the time, two jobs seemed the most likely. One was law enforcement. He figured he could retire while still in his 40’s. If possible, he preferred retiring the day after starting.      Chuck worked patrol, various ‘special’ details, and investigations. He also served as a firearms and tactics instructor for his department for 16 years. For 15 years he participated in firearms competition with handgun, rifle, and shotgun, and was a champion handgun shooter in police competition in New Mexico. Chuck placed 3rd in national police revolver competition.      A couple of years after retiring, he wrote his first novel. The first story impressed no one. The people he let read it were either fast readers, or they gave up after a few pages. His next effort ended at around 150 pages. Its reception proved he learned little.      While wandering through a bookstore he discovered books on writing. He purchased and read several, then sat down for a third try.       Two reams of paper later, he sent a script to a small publisher. Three months later, Chuck was stunned to receive word that the publisher liked it, and offered a contract to publish it.       After some back and forth to ‘fix’ this, or change that, the book went to publication. Not many months after, the publishing house was out of business.      A year later, another small publisher wanted his next novel. They were out of business before a year passed. Chuck sometimes ponders the significance of the two closures.      In the midst of all this he managed to make time to find a wife and get married. Linda has been his rock and support. She’s also a great writer in her own right, when she can find the time.       Which brings us to now, and the several books available.  Have a look. You might find them interesting. If not, thanks for stopping by, and try not to be a stranger. There are others coming.

Book preview

Chapter One

The nightmare was the same as several years ago. Her screams rattled me to my core. Long, sharp nails tore at my chest and face. I jerked awake and sat up bathed in sweat. Beside me, Jackie awoke and put her hand on me. The warm hand comforted me. My heart, pounding as if ready to burst through my ribcage, calmed.

What is it? she asked.

A bad dream.

My God, you’re soaking wet.

It was like the old ones. She was attacking me.

I shivered despite the warm, humid night. My T-shirt stuck to my body, damp with sweat. Three years ago, the woman first attacked me. Her sharp fingernails ripped into me. The pain was real, excruciating.

That was three years ago. She should have been in hell, where I sent her the day I buried an innocent young victim in a town long ago gone. Now, she was back.

It can’t be her, said Jackie. You sent her to hell. You saw her go.

We all saw. She was screaming like a banshee and she vanished.

I remember what you told me. It’s over, Frank. It’s a bad dream, like PTSD or something.

After taking a deep breath, I turned on the light and climbed out of bed. Except for Jackie and me, the bedroom was empty. There was no one hiding in the shadows or hovering against the ceiling. No blood stained the sheets and my pajama top had no rips or tears.

It’s not quite four o’clock, said Jackie.

I think I’m done for tonight. Go back to sleep.

You have got to be kidding. She threw off the covers. Let’s put on some coffee.

While I apologized and followed, she led the way down the stairs to the kitchen. She started the coffee and took a seat opposite me at the kitchen table.

You haven’t had those dreams in a long time, she said, thinking.

Not since before we met.

Over three years ago, she said.

It was as real as those others.

Danielsford’s curse had was lifted when we gave Mary Bradbury her burial. Her ghost, or spirit, spoke to me and said as much. She was at rest; the town no longer suffered her curse, and the evil spirit that hunted me went to hell.

Jackie sipped her coffee.

The curse Mary put on the town is gone, she said.

And the other one was taken away.

That’s what you told me.

Three years ago, on my way to meet clients, I drove along a familiar road and ended up in a town that belonged some other place than Vermont. Danielsford was a Puritan town from the late 17th Century. During the short time I spent in the village, I learned that they had hanged a woman accused and convicted of witchcraft.

Mary Bradbury, the young woman, had placed a curse on the town and people who lived in it. She had cursed them to reappear every three years somewhere in New England. The town’s appearance lasted for three days. I could only remove the curse by giving her a proper, Christian burial.

After hanging her, they discovered she was innocent. The people attempted to rectify their error by putting her in a coffin and bringing her body to their church. The minister, I learned, refused to conduct the funeral. For reasons I never learned, they left her at the church in the coffin.

Every three years for over three centuries, the town of Danielsford appeared somewhere in New England. There it remained for three days until returning to some between worlds existence. We were in that third year, and my nightmares had returned.

There was a second woman. I saw and confronted her at the church during my visit to the town. She demanded I open the coffin and release Mary, which I refused to do.

I do not know how it happened. Either the strange woman or someone else released Mary. For other reasons I can’t understand, she chose me to provide the burial she desired. Meanwhile, the second woman hunted me, intent on killing me. If that isn’t confusing enough, I had no clue why she wanted me dead, unless it resulted from my refusal to open the coffin.

Mary had powers we today don’t understand. She protected me from the other woman but warned me she couldn’t keep the other one away forever. It was reason enough to find the site of old Danielsford, find a minister or Priest, give her the funeral that, I understood, would both end the curse, and free me from the other woman.

With the help of another man who had also experienced Danielsford and the help of a minister and his wife also trapped in the town during a prior appearance, we found Danielsford. A Catholic Priest did the funeral and Mary was at peace. The evil one was, we thought, sent to hell and the town freed of the curse.

If it sounds like a psychotic dream, I can only say you had to be there. It was real, and it happened.

Jackie continued, Maybe subconsciously you’re thinking about it.

I haven’t been, I said.

Without realizing it. The mind can do that.

Maybe.

The talk ran out of steam. Nothing would be resolved. Danielsford went away three years ago. I had no interest in seeing it, the people, or the strange woman again. She went to hell, a place I had no intention of ever visiting or seeing.

Go take a shower, Jackie said. It’s past five. I’ll get mine and we’ll have time to go for breakfast before I open.

Jackie owned and ran a curio, tourist trap, type of shop in town. She did very well. Combined with my income from supplying parts and inventory to electrical and plumbing stores, we managed to put aside a growing nest egg. She worked in the shop while I worked on my computer.

Chapter Two

Breakfast was a lazy, leisurely affair at the usual place. I think we chose the restaurant because it was where we first met. Jerry, her employee, came in just as our orders arrived. He looked at me with distaste and took a seat beside Jackie.

In the three years, Jerry never warmed up to me. It didn’t bother me. I had no interest in being his friend. He disliked me on the first day, maybe seeing me as competition for Jackie although he was, and still is, married. It was the impression I got from watching him. Nothing I’ve seen since has changed my mind.

Jackie valued him as an employee, something I cannot dispute. He works hard and handles customers well, and doesn’t waste time while in the store. We just don’t get along.

Today might be a really good day, he said.

The motels and B&B’s are full.

That’s what I’ve heard. He motioned to the waitress for a cup of coffee and looked at me. What are you doing today?

Working, I said.

Here or where? he asked.

In Maine today.

One novelty I’ve found about working online is that I can go anywhere in the country from the comfort of my home office. I would canvas my contacts in Maine and get two days’ worth of work done in eight or ten hours.

It took time to get things set up. A handful of my old clients refused to go along with the new system, and we parted ways. Over time, I picked up new customers to replace them, and a half dozen others. Business was flourishing, and I had plenty of time left in the week to try to add more if I wanted.

Going to Maine without leaving the house, he said. How cool is that?

His voice was flat, disinterested. The impression he gave is that he wished I would go to Maine for a week.

How is your wife? Jackie asked him.

He brightened when she asked. I knew it was not a result of his being married. Within a year of living in Woodstock, I heard rumors. Various people who knew he worked for Jackie warned me that Jerry was a womanizer. The knowledge did not surprise me.

Good. He glanced at Jackie. She left early this morning for two weeks, to visit her mother. Like last time.

That was four years ago. Her mom is okay?

Yeah, Ginny just wants to spend some time with her.

She hasn’t seen her in four years? Jackie asked.

She’s gone to Hartford for a couple of days here and there, he said. I think I’d just started working for you when she went for that long visit.

You’d been with me around six months..

When I met Jackie, she told me that Jerry was an employee and nothing more. Subtle hints during the past three years suggested that there was more at one time. I guessed if there was a fling, it hadn’t lasted long.

I finished breakfast, pushed the plate away and slid my cup of coffee in front of me.

What will you do for two weeks? I asked.

Be a bachelor. He flicked a glance at Jackie. It’ll be great.

I’m sure it will, Jackie said, more to herself.

I glanced at my watch. I need to get going. It’s almost eight.

Maine is waiting, said Jerry. Don’t let us keep you.

The job is waiting, I said. I’ll get the check.

I reached across and gave Jackie’s hand a squeeze. She smiled.

See you for lunch?

I’ll try.

We often met for lunch. Sometimes I couldn’t get away if I was with a customer or involved with paperwork and lost track of the time. Jerry nodded at me. I dropped money on the table, enough to cover the three of us and the tip.

Home and office were only three blocks. I took my time, enjoying the summer morning.

Chapter Three

The house was quiet. There was no ominous feeling, and I had no impression of danger, but something was different. I spent a few minutes checking the rooms and then went upstairs to my office, mumbling to myself that I was getting paranoid because of the nightmare.

When I had the computer booted, I put on coffee. The small two-cup maker sat on a table across the room. I watched as the dark liquid dripped into the carafe. Before it finished filling, I grabbed the carafe, poured a cup and went to my workstation. It was nine o’clock. My clients would open for business.

Frank Jackson, said a voice behind me. Such amazing things this world does have.

I recognized the voice. She was close, only a yard away, eyeing the computer’s monitor and me. The hair stood up on the back of my neck and a large knot developed in my stomach. It wasn’t fear of her. I knew Mary meant me no harm. The reason for her appearance frightened me to my core.

Mary Bradbury stood motionless, a look of curiosity on her face as she studied the monitor. After a second, she looked at me.

Danielsford, I said. I had a dream last night.

I think not the village. My curse be no more.

What else? There’s nothing more I can do.

You must. She took a step closer. She will come for you yet again.

Mary’s eyes met mine. As before, it frightened and baffled me. I was talking to a three-hundred-year-old woman who looked twenty-five, standing a yard away from me. It was so surreal that I had trouble grasping it.

For me? Why? I asked. What did I do to her?

My mind drifted back to the village. I saw the woman standing on the Common as I entered the church. Then I saw the coffin near the altar and retreated from the building, only to meet the woman outside. She demanded I open the coffin. I refused.

How were you released? I added. I didn’t do it.

Your presence provided me the strength, said Mary. You were chosen to give me my rest. Releasing me needed not that you open the box.

None of what she said explained why this other woman hunted me. Why did she carry such hate?

She be Rebecca Collins, a true witch unlike them what died earlier, or me who practiced not the sinful arts, said Mary. She hateth you for freeing the town by your presence. Of what she desires, it does be clear. Rebecca Collins wishes you great harm.

I tried to digest what she told me. Rebecca wanted to hurt or kill me for lifting a curse she wanted me to lift. She hated me for it. When I was in Danielsford, she wanted me to open the casket, free Mary and, I assume, give her a Christian burial to remove the curse. It made no sense, but not much about Danielsford did.

We thought she went to hell. We saw her go.

She went to a place of darkness, hate, and evil what is unlike any you are given to understand.

That sounded like hell to me. If it was worse, I never wanted to see it.

She’s come back? I asked.

Frank Jackson, be on your guard. She is here but she be not what you expect. Evil can be in many forms, not always as you think.

I don’t understand, I said.

She stepped back, turned and edged toward the door. In the doorway, she stopped.

Know I will be at your side. Turning, she stepped out of the room and hesitated. Frank Jackson, I pray you open your eyes to those who be near.

With that said, she faded away. I sat, trying to understand her last warning. The only person I could think of was Jackie. Was Mary telling me that she was in danger from Rebecca?

I checked the time. It was almost nine-thirty. The store opened at nine. At the fifth ring, I was ready to hang up and go down. After hearing what Mary Bradbury told me, I worried that Rebecca had already struck.

Jerry answered, sounding out of breath. Yeah, I’ll get her.

After some muffled conversation, Jackie answered. I launched into my story. She said nothing until I finished.

We’re just opening, she said. So, it’s starting again.

You’re late.

Something had to be taken care of.

I just called to let you know to be alert. There was something about this other one being in other forms, or something like that. I don’t know what she meant.

Other forms, Jackie mused. I don’t know. It’s getting hectic here. See you at lunch? Around one?

I’ll try. I’m behind, but I’ll do my best.

When we hung up, I made a tour of the house, checking every room. I didn’t want or need another surprise. Once satisfied, I settled in front of my computer and tried to get my work done. Only a handful of clients through the list, I checked the time. It was one-thirty, and I was late.

Sorry, I said, taking a seat opposite Jackie.

Tell me what happened.

Starting at the beginning, I walked her through the event. She listened without comment. When I finished, she pursed her lips, thinking.

So this other one is named Rebecca Collins. And she’s a real witch. I wonder what that meant in those days.

I think it meant she had unusual powers. She has something far beyond what we understand today.

How did she get out of hell?

I don’t think she went there, I said. She went somewhere almost as bad though.

The waitress appeared with coffee. We sat in silence until she left.

What happened at the store? I asked.

She looked at me.

You were over half an hour late getting open, I finished.

Oh, she waved off my question. It was nothing. So Rebecca is here.

And she isn’t what I expect.

She checked her watch. I’ve got to get back. It’s almost two.

I drained the last of my cup while she slid from the booth. We paid and went out into the sunlight.

I’ll walk you to the shop.

We strolled the short distance to her store and stood on the sidewalk for a minute talking. Jerry stepped out seconds later.

Nobody inside, he said. It’s a good time for a smoke break.

He pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket and lit it, eyeing Jackie. She shot him a quick smile.

Away from the door, she said.

Jerry took a couple of steps down the street.

Slowed down? I asked.

We got hit at the opening, and not much since, she said. You know how it goes.

Speaking of work, I’ve still got over half of today’s list to get through.

I’ll see you later this afternoon? she asked.

Around six. The usual time.

I waited until she went in. Jerry tossed half his cigarette into the street and followed.

Later, he said as he entered the store.

Chapter Four

Luck was on my side. I finished those on the day’s list by four in the afternoon. It took another hour to get the orders sent to Boston for processing, due to a slow connection. I filled my coffee cup and wondered what to do for an hour until six.

Going to the shop was an option, except I had done that in the past. Through experience, I learned that an hour or two is an excruciating amount of time when you spend it trying to stay out of the way. Jackie offered me the office, saying I could go there and she would slip back when she could. That lasted a month before I began showing up around six. Seven was closing time, though she would keep the shop open as long as she had customers.

Jerry didn’t like staying longer, even with the extra money it gave him. He would complain the moment seven o’clock arrived, and it continued until she locked the door.

After Jackie closed, she had to do the bookkeeping. That meant at least two hours in the office, running receipts. It was also a time to relax. I never understood how she managed, but it worked. Balancing receipts was not relaxing. It was, however, a different stress and that could be the secret.

Based on what she told me, it was a slow day. The odds were that she would close at seven. It was my reason for arriving at six. While I waited, I wandered through the house and ended up in my office. I half expected, or wished, that Mary would return. If she did, I could try to get more details about her comment.

By a quarter to six, I sighed and started for the shop. I walked in behind two customers. The tinkling of the bell above the door announced our arrival. A few seconds later, Jackie came from the back.

She nodded at me and went to the man and woman. Both dressed in what we called tourist garb. Jerry appeared a minute later from somewhere. He saw me and began straightening up a shelf.

When the man and woman left, Jackie came up to me.

It’s been dead all afternoon. In the past hour, they’re it. She motioned to the pair.

I watched them amble down the street. They stopped to look in a window before moving on.

Gives you a break from the rat race, I said.

She looked at me for a second and nodded. True. Seven days a week is tough even if it’s only for the three summer months. It gets no easier as you get older, either.

I laughed. Believe me, I know.

You sound like an old man, said Jerry. I’m older than you.

We compared ages. I was a year older, at fifty-four.

How do you take care of yourself?

I walk down to the restaurant and back twice. Down here and back. Up and down the stairs at least a dozen times a day, I said.

Sounds invigorating, For the first time, I saw the humor in his eyes.

It is. I studied him for a second. Mama being gone agrees with you.

And she’s only been gone twelve hours. I’m a new man.

Okay, said Jackie. Enough. Let’s get the shelves stocked and ready for tomorrow.

Jerry glanced at her. Yeah. If today was slow, tomorrow will be murder. That’s how it works.

I’ll just hold forth at the register, I said.

She locked the door at seven. In the forty-five minutes before closing, there were six customers. Four of them browsed the merchandise and left. The other two made small purchases.

This day was a loss, she said, as we headed back to her office.

If Jerry is right, tomorrow you’ll get hammered.

She slid behind her desk and laid the receipts and money out. While her computer booted, she fixed her desk and organized the cash register tape. Everyone has their own way of working. Hers was what worked for her.

I lounged in a chair in front, glancing around at the office. I knew it by heart. If a book or magazine was moved, I would notice. To my left was the door in which Mary appeared three years ago. That was when we realized she was trying to say something.

Jackie worked fast, but with care. I stood and went to the door.

What? she asked.

Nothing, I said. Just stretching my legs.

I wandered into the stock room, reversed course back up the hall and rambled around the shop area before returning to the office.

All secure? she asked.

Locked up tight.

No ghosts?

Not one.

Good. I’ll be done in less than an hour. That’s how slow it was.

Jackie was true to her word. She finished running the receipts in less time than she predicted. After gathering the cash and accounting paperwork, she slid it into a bank bag and we left. It was a short stroll to the bank. Everywhere in downtown Woodstock is a short walk.

Let’s stop for dinner, she said, turning to head back up the street. The restaurant will still be open.

It was a sultry summer evening, meaning it wouldn’t surprise me to wake up next day to a rainstorm. I watched no weather forecasts but knew how the atmosphere changed before an impending storm.

Jackie agreed. The weather says rain. You can always tell when the humidity climbs.

We walked into the restaurant and found Jerry. He sat at a table alone, away from the window. A family occupied our usual booth.

We went to his table

Want some company? she asked.

The life of a bachelor, I said.

It has advantages, he answered. Cooking isn’t one of them.

He waved us to sit and motioned for his waitress. We ordered, and I glanced around the almost full room. Here and there were people I met during the three years I lived in town. None was what I could call friends. In fact, maybe a result of my many years of travel, I had several acquaintances but no real friends.

I never got the hang of cooking, I said. But I was on the road for three weeks every month.

Expense account, he said.

Yeah, but it wasn’t extravagant.

I need your expertise, said Jackie. I spaced it earlier. We’ve got a problem with the fuse box at the shop.

Okay, I said.

It keeps tripping a breaker, she continued. We had problems all morning.

Something is overloaded, I said.

We talked about it. I told her I would have a look. I sold them, and knew enough to be able to repair the things if needed.

So, she said, looking at me, you don’t know when this evil spirit is supposed to appear?

Wait, said Jerry. He looked at Jackie. What?

Mary Bradbury is back, said Jackie.

The ghost from a few years ago, he nodded.

Only she isn’t a ghost, I said. She’s as real as us.

He sat back and eyed me. Real people don’t appear and disappear in front of your eyes.

It isn’t her anyway, I told him. It’s the other one we need to worry about.

There’s another one?

A very bad one.

Maybe I should have gone to Hartford with Ginny, he said.

I doubt it’s after you. It’s coming for me, or those close to me.

Not close as in sitting at a table together close, he said.

No, or I don’t think so.

Since we know each other, and I work for somebody close to you and could be involved, what did the ghost say?

I took a breath and glanced at Jackie. She nodded. While I told them about Mary’s appearance, Jerry listened.

Strange, he said when I finished. Evil in many forms. It means something, but I don’t know what. The part about watching those close to you is just good sense.

I’ve thought about it too, said Jackie. I think maybe it means she’ll be in disguise.

Looking like us, I nodded.

So it could be anyone, said Jerry. He glanced around the restaurant.

She’s here but not what I expect, I said.

That’s comforting, he murmured.

We need to keep our eyes open for anything or anybody suspicious, I said.

Our orders arrived and the conversation slowed as we ate. Twenty minutes later, we pushed the plates away and focused on our coffee. The discussion centered on what we could do about Rebecca Collins.

Planning a defense was impossible until we knew what we were facing. Defending against a genuine witch with powers beyond anything we can imagine today would take every skill and talent we possessed. Then, there was no guarantee we could win.

More comforting news, said Jerry. She’s a real witch, with powers we don’t have today.

Something like that, I said.

Reverend and Mrs. Putnam, said Jackie.

They need to know, I said.

Who? Jerry asked.

Friends, Jackie said. Down in Massachusetts.

When I told Jerry about them and how they helped, he agreed that I should warn them.

What about the others? You went with some guy and a Priest, didn’t you?

They aren’t really close. I haven’t seen them since that day.

They’re involved. You wouldn’t have found the town without them.

He has a point, said Jackie. You should notify everyone who had anything to do with the town or the funeral.

Their names and phone numbers were on a sheet of paper. I remembered putting it somewhere in my desk at home. I remembered both of them even though I hadn’t thought of or seen them in three years.

The three of us had planned to visit the site on the first anniversary of Mary’s funeral. I came with Jackie. Neither of them made it, and I hadn’t expected they would. The promises were the kind often made and seldom kept.

Since then, Jackie and I went every year. We made the trek into the woods alone, both to make sure the grave marker I placed was standing, in good shape, and to say a short prayer for Mary. Based on what we saw, we doubted anyone ever visited the site.

I’ll find the paper and call them, I said.

Their names are on the paper? Jackie asked.

I nodded.

That’s good, because you don’t remember them, do you?

George Masters was the one from western Massachusetts. He lived in Reverend Putnam’s town. The Priest is named Maloney, from Boston.

Great. She winked at Jerry.

I’m getting that way, Jerry sighed. I remember years ago better than this morning.

My watch read nine o’clock. I finished the coffee, put my cup on the plate, and stood.

Enough excitement, I said.

Yeah, said Jerry. He reached into his back pocket. Stopped and began patting all his pockets. What the hell. I think I left my wallet at the store.

At the store? She looked at him.

It has to be.