Salem's Witches (Neitherlands Book 1), page 3
“But it is! Unlike others, I don’t create. When I go you won’t see anything that didn’t exist before and came to exist only because of me. That’s not my thing.” Atoms looked giddy. “Instead of creating things, I explain them, you see? Everything in this room, absolutely everything, is designed to explain how our world works in ways that can be understood and replicated by anyone.”
Laura found it difficult to believe anyone could walk into that room and come out of it with any questions answered. If anything, they’d leave with so many questions about whatever was going on in there they’d just forget their original question.
“I…can’t see how that could work. I mean, I’m here and I haven’t had any questions answered by any of this clutter.”
“Because you’re not asking the right questions! See, ask me what any of the items in here do and I’ll tell you what secrets of the universe they explain.”
Laura was trapped. The little man didn’t seem dangerous, unless you pronounced a certain word in his presence. She wondered if he’d also go berserk were she to refuse to humor him, then decided that question was better left unanswered. “What’s that thing there?” She pointed at the sphere on the coffee table. She chose it carefully, after deeming it the least dangerous-looking item in the room.
“That!” Atoms’s face lit up as he grinned. The whole grinning thing made him look like even more of a maniac. “That’s the most important thing I’ve ever created! It is my latest theory, the one that will one day revolutionize the way we look at the Neitherlands!”
Laura was unimpressed. For all she knew the man had invented a ball.
“You see, that sphere there…it’s the Neitherlands!”
Laura leaned closer to the sphere. Now she could see the sphere indeed had what looked like a map of the Neitherlands drawn on it. Why anyone would go drawing maps on spheres was still a mystery to her. “What do you mean?”
“It’s, well, a model of the Neitherlands. You see, the very land we’re standing on right now is… It’s a ball, of course!”
Laura stared at the man and, for a moment, wondered if he was toying with her. She wanted to slap him and leave the house, but she was constrained by a sense of decency and more than just a bit of curiosity about his insane ideas. She also desperately wanted to know why he wasn’t locked up in the nearest sanitarium.
“Atoms… I’ll admit I’m not the most studious woman around—” Atoms giggled, and Laura chose not to inquire what his reasons for giggling at the idea of a studious woman were, for the sake of Atoms’s well-being. “But let’s be honest. Everyone knows the Neitherlands is not a ball, that’s a ridiculous idea.” She pointed at the southern hemisphere of the ball. “Why, if that were so people around here would fall off.”
“No they don’t. I can’t explain why yet, but I know there are forces at play that make people stick to the ball. I can, however, assure you that this is true. If you want any further proof, just look at how I’m being persecuted by the churches and the colleges and all those people who make their living by the means of religion or, that one ugly word.”
“Who’s persecuting you? And why?” Laura couldn’t understand why anyone other than the employees at the sanitarium would want anything to do with Atoms. And even those would probably rather steer clear of such madness, dreading the day when Atoms got caught and institutionalized again.
“All churches! They all have different theories as to what the Neitherlands is like, and most of them think it’s flat, so they find mine to be rebellious and a heresy. They’ve been harassing me, threatening me and doing their best to keep me from telling anyone what they know to be the truth! They can’t stand the idea of going out of business when people learn their ideas are lies!”
Laura stayed silent for a moment. The man’s ideas were ridiculous, but she couldn’t see why any churches would have such an interest in silencing what anyone could see was a crazy man with crazy ideas no one in their right mind would ever believe. “Right…what about the colleges? Why would they harass you?”
“Because I hate that…that one thing, you know it. The one that doesn’t exist. What I do, I try to explain things without using it, and they feel that cuts deeply into their territory. They’re afraid that, should I succeed, and I will, there will be no need for their little tricks one day.”
“But that has nothing to do with the ball there. One could just say the force that you say makes people stick to the ball is magic, and therefore your own theory admits that magic exists and rules our universe.”
Atoms looked unimpressed. “Yes, one could say that, if one had a lot of disregard for the truth and was an overall imbecile. And I expected they would say that, because of course those idiots at the College of Wizardry will stop at nothing to prove what they do is important! They just don’t want logic to get in the way of their stupid, useless little ancient art that does not even exist!”
“Right… Now, this was a nice conversation,” said Laura, trying to find a way to leave the madman’s house lest his rambling turn dangerous. “However, I should get going since Salem—”
“You leaving? But you were going to help me!” Atoms moved between Laura and the door. She could’ve shoved him aside and walked out but, once again, common decency kept her from it. “I helped you with your case and even gave you a little class on the nature of the Neitherlands. Now it’s your turn to help me. It’s only fair, after all.”
Laura stared at the little man. “But all you did was listen to my tale and tell me it wasn’t caused by magic! Nothing more. It took you but a minute!”
“Yes, I did exactly that. But I did it with a knowledge and authority nobody else in this city has, you see? So if you see it like that, I did a lot. Now, I must insist that you help me carry out an experiment. It is very important.”
Laura sighed. “And when shall you carry out this experiment of yours? I expect you need to plan things ahead, make sure to have all ingredients, choose a good day for it lest the weather—”
Atoms looked through the window, ignoring her. The sky was cloudy and gray, growing darker by the minute. “The way I see it today is a good day as any! Come with me. You’re going to love what we’ll prove today!”
3
When Veronika entered the Fetish Dungeon with Sarah trailing behind her, she couldn’t help but wonder who had named the little establishment and if they ever got the wrong clientele thanks to its colorful name.
She also feared they had the wrong address, although said fears were quickly quenched as she ran into a mountain of religious paraphernalia instead of the other, less savory kind of merchandise a store with such a name could be expected to carry. The place, small and darker than Veronika would have liked, smelled of incense, perfumes, and certain odors near the ritual ingredients section of which most people would rather remain ignorant.
She tried browsing through the merchandise herself, but the truth quickly dawned on her: She had no clue what she was looking for. She didn’t even know what she was looking at, having never been a religious person who felt meddling with religion was about the same as dabbling on witchcraft…with the small but important difference that with witchcraft you had guaranteed results as long as you did it right. Ask the gods for anything, however, and you’d be at their mercy.
“Sarah…” she said, approaching her friend, who had an ugly doll in her hand. “What is that?”
Sarah let go of the doll and shook her head. “It’s nothing… I just thought that doll seemed…odd.”
Veronika grabbed the doll and looked at it. It indeed seemed odd, if one chose to use odd as a synonym for ugly. “What is this supposed to be?”
“It’s…Deceptia, I believe. Goddess of deception and masquerading. An aunt of mine used to hail her a lot. She’d invoke her name before trying to sneak into high-society parties, mostly to fill her purse with food and then share it with everyone outside.”
Veronika smirked. “And did she succeed?”
“Sometimes she did, actually. More often than one would expect. She’d come up with the stupidest disguises and for some reason guards would fall for them. She’d say it was Deceptia helping her pass.”
Veronika smirked again, putting down the doll. “Never took you for the religious kind.” She had never asked any of her friends, or Salem, about their stances on religion. While most would believe she did this because educated people avoid talking religion or politics with coworkers, Veronika did it to keep herself from trouble. “I mean, believing that there’s some crazy old lady up in the skies helping a woman disguise herself to enter a party… It’s all kinds of ridiculous, isn’t it?”
Sarah did not seem amused.
“I mean…sorry. That was…out of line…probably…” She didn’t sound convincing. Instead of going on with her apology, she switched approaches and grabbed the doll. “Never mind me. You like the doll? We can buy it if you want.”
Sarah sighed. “I was just staring at the doll because it looks off, not because I wanted to buy it. It’s like…it looks exactly like Deceptia, yet not quite. I wouldn’t be able to explain it.”
Sarah walked away from Veronika, shaking her head. For a moment Veronika considered chasing her, but decided against it: If others were allowed to believe in deities, she should also be allowed to laugh at them. It was only fair.
Instead of continuing on a wild goose chase, she approached the counter and asked the woman there about the amulet so they could quickly be done with their task. As she neared it she noticed the woman there was quite…peculiar. Which here meant that her clothes were ragged, everything about her was dirty, and she looked as if she could barely stand up and…were those traces of blood in her hair?
Veronika couldn’t keep herself from gasping, which prompted Sarah to run to the counter.
“What happened?” said Sarah, “Why are you… Oh dear…”
The woman stared at them, emotionless.
“Who did this to you, miss?” said Veronika. “Whoever did it, you can be sure we’ll catch them and make sure they pay for their crimes.” She pulled out an ID Salem had given them when they first started working for him. It was the first time she had ever showed it to anyone. “We’re Salem’s Witches, and we can help.”
The woman blinked. She seemed to have no clue what was going on.
“Is she in shock?” said Sarah. “Oh dear, she’s in shock! Let me help!” Sarah went to the door leading to the other side of the counter and tried to open it.
“No customers past the counter,” said the woman in a soft, calm voice. She turned towards Sarah and stared. “Customers on customer area only, please.”
“She speaks,” said Veronika. “Miss, why wouldn’t you answer us just now?”
“Answer what? I didn’t know you were talking to me. You two didn’t make much sense.”
“What’s your name?” said Sarah.
“I’m Jane,” said Jane. “What about you two? What you staring at?”
“Jane…who did this to you?” said Veronika. It felt absurd having to explain why they were staring at a bloodied, beaten-up woman.
Jane still didn’t seem to understand. “Who did what?” She looked around the room. “The store? I don’t know who made the store, what a silly question! Probably a builder of some sort. We just rented the place and opened shop. We didn’t make it!”
Jane had to be joking.
“Look at yourself,” said Sarah. “You’re dirty and ragged and rather…bloody…”
Jane sighed. “You meant that? Oh, don’t worry, I’m fine. It was all John. This makes him happy.”
Veronika was quick to anger, but not so quick to horrify. Not that anyone would have guessed it, since an instant later she jumped the counter and stood by Jane’s side, holding her hands. “Jane, we need to know where this John guy is.” She did her best to seem kind and relatable, but she wasn’t very good at it. “I know you might think he has done no wrong, but he has, and we can’t allow it. We’ll help you deal with this and get better, but we need you to collaborate by telling us where he is.”
“John…well, he is there…” Jane pointed at a corner of the shop—a dark corner that didn’t look like it would attract many customers, except perhaps those who had a last wish.
Sarah went there, while Veronika did her best to calm down the already calm Jane. “There’s nobody here, miss Jane…” said Sarah from the Dark Corner of Doom. “Just…an altar?”
There was indeed an altar, and it featured plenty of drawings of a guy. A random guy. The guy with the least remarkable face in the world—a face so common and featureless it would blend in in an empty room. It was precisely the kind of face people imagined when they thought about people they knew absolutely nothing of.
“John is there. You just have to try and feel him.” Jane was smiling and looked as if everything was well and perfect in her life. “If you reach out for John, he’ll reach out for you.”
“Sarah…don’t.” said Veronika. She wasn’t sure if the whole John reaching out for her from the shadows thing was a figure of speech, but she would rather not risk having to go back to Salem to explain how a woman beater had taken Sarah hostage from the dark corner of a store. Such an incident wouldn’t look good in her resume.
“There’s nothing here. And nobody.” Sarah returned to the counter. “Who is this John guy? Is he the one in the drawings?”
“That he is, yes. He is my husband, my great, amazing husband.”
Veronika very much doubted John’s greatness. “And where could we find him?” she said, hoping for an address. Just an address would be enough…
“He is there.” Jane pointed again at the Dark Corner of Doom. “He is also here.” She pointed at an empty space in front of her. “And there. And there. And there,” she added, pointing at random, empty places. “He is everywhere. And he is waiting for you, sister. He wants to make you his bride too.”
“I… I don’t think polygamy is legal in this city, Jane. Is polygamy legal in New Wakilork?” Veronika turned to Sarah, who shook her head. “There’s another charge to add to the list. Where can we find him? If I wanted to marry him, where would I go to find him?”
“If you want to marry John…you can’t,” said Jane, giggling. “For you’re already married to him, and you can’t marry him twice. But rejoice, for John has you as one of his blessed wives!”
Veronika smiled at Jane, doing her best not to seem hostile. With slow, nonthreatening movements she let go of her and jumped back over the counter. “Sarah…” she whispered, “do you think perhaps she… I mean, look at this…there’s an altar and she speaks of him as…”
Sarah gasped. She stared at Jane, aghast. “Jane…is this John guy…a deity? A god?”
“But of course he is. All that and much more. He’s the only god for us women, the one who wants to make us all his brides for eternity!” She beamed with pride. “And I’m glad you sisters have found him, for—”
The door behind Jane opened and a stout woman came in. “What is going on here?” she said. “Jane, are you trying to get people to join your crazy cult again?”
Jane sighed. “Paquita, it’s not crazy! It’s not my fault you’d rather be a spinster, but there are many of us real women with real dreams who adore John and want him to gives us a great, loving marriage like nobody else can!”
Paquita sighed. “Get out, Jane. I’ll handle these ladies.”
Jane looked as if she wanted to snap at Paquita but thought better of it. “They’ll demand that you let me back, for they want to hear the kind, loving words John has to say!” She vanished into the interior of the store, but not without first slamming the door.
“I’m sorry about that,” said Paquita. “She’s…unstable. She used to be the girlfriend of this man, John, the one in the altars. He…mysteriously disappeared, precisely on the date they were to get married, if you know what I mean. Ever since she’s been holding onto this crazy belief that he was actually a god testing her.”
“And did you beat her?” said Veronika, casually and not at all ready to arrest the evil little woman who got her kicks out of beating up insane people.
“Why would I do that?” Paquita seemed ready to kick them out of the store. “She does those things to herself, to appease that idiot deity of hers. If anything, I’d love if you could help me get her to stop hurting herself. The other day she went out shopping and came back with this whip, this aberration with nine—” Paquita shook her head. “I’m truly desperate here, but what can I do?”
“Nothing, of course,” said Veronika, trying to get on Paquita’s good side. She could think of several things one could do, such as placing her in an asylum, but such a suggestion would make it unlikely that Paquita would help them. “Sometimes you just have to let crazy people be, no matter how much they’re hurting themselves.”
Paquita gave Veronika a stare—a trademarked kind of stare, the one that screams ‘I see what you did there’ people use when they’d rather avoid confrontation with those who are begging for it. “Anyway, ladies, what is is you’re looking for? We have everything for pretty much any deities known on this side of the Neitherlands. We also have an extensive import section that—”
Sarah grabbed the amulet and put it on the table, making the woman go silent. This silence wasn’t at all suspicious or weird, after all, people often stop talking when they ponder things, like who the amulet belonged to. What told quite the story was Paquita’s aghast expression, along with her sudden pallor.
“Get out,” she said. “I don’t care who sent you or why you have come here, just get out of my store.”
“Wait!” said Sarah, while Paquita reached for a broom. “We…we just want to know which cult this belongs to, as part of an investigation!”
