Kim lifted her good arm to protect herself from the searing heat. Getting to her feet she hobbled toward the front door. It was becoming difficult to breathe as the fire consumed the room’s oxygen.
An explosion behind her sent Kim again sprawling onto the floor. She cried out with pain from her injured arm. She guessed the blast had been the blowtorch container detonating. With renewed urgency to get out of the building, she struggled to her feet and staggered forward.
Kim lurched through the door and hobbled out into the gusty wind and driving rain. She limped all the way to the far edge of the graveled area in front of the castle, gritting her teeth against the pain in her arm and knee with every step. Turning around and shielding her face from the heat with her good arm, she looked back at the castle. The old structure was burning like tinder. Flames were already visible in the dormered windows of the attic.
A flash of lightning briefly illuminated the area. For Kim, the scene was like an image of hell. She shook her head in disgust and dismay. Truly the devil had returned to Salem!
Epilogue
Saturday, November 5, 1994
“Where do you want to go first?” Kinnard asked as he and Kim drove through the gate onto the Stewart compound.
“I’m not sure,” Kim said. She was in the passenger seat, supporting the cast on her left arm.
“You’ll have to decide pretty soon,” Kinnard said. “We’ll be coming to the fork as soon as we clear the trees.”
Kim knew Kinnard was right. She could already see the field through the leafless trees. She turned her head and looked at Kinnard. The pale, late fall sunshine slanting through the trees was flickering on his face and lighting up his dark eyes. He’d been extraordinarily supportive, and she was thankful he’d agreed to make this drive with her. It had been a month since the fateful night, and this was Kim’s first return.
“Well?” Kinnard questioned. He began to slow down.
“Let’s go to the castle,” Kim said. “Or at least what’s left of it.”
Kinnard made the appropriate turn. Ahead, the charred ruins loomed. All that was standing were the stone walls and chimneys.
Kinnard pulled up to the drawbridge that now led to a blackened, empty doorway. Kinnard turned off the ignition.
“It’s worse than I expected,” Kinnard said, surveying the scene through the windshield. He looked at Kim. He could sense she was nervous. “You know, you don’t have to go through this visit if you don’t want to.”
“I want to,” Kim said. “I’ve got to face it sometime.”
She opened her door and got out. Kinnard got out his side. Together they strolled around the ruins. They did not try to go inside. Within the walls everything was ashes save for a few charred beams that had not completely burned.
“It’s hard to believe anyone got out alive as fast as it all burned,” Kim said.
“Two out of six is not a great record,” Kinnard said. “Besides, the two who survived aren’t out of the woods yet.”
“It’s a tragedy in a tragedy,” Kim said. “Like poor Elizabeth with her malformed, miscarried fetus.”
They reached a hillock where they had a view of the entire incinerated site. Kinnard shook his head in disgust. “What a fitting end to a horrid episode,” he said. “The authorities had a hard time believing it until the dentition of one of the victims matched the toothmarks on the bone of the dead vagrant. At least you must feel vindicated. They didn’t believe a word you said in the beginning.”
“I’m not sure they really believed it until both Edward and Gloria had another transformation in the burn unit of the hospital,” Kim said. “That was the clincher, not the teethmarks. The people who witnessed it attested that it had been brought on by sleep and that neither Edward nor Gloria had any recollection of it occurring. Those were the two key points that were critical for people to believe what I told them.”
“I believed you right away,” Kinnard said, turning to Kim.
“You did,” Kim said. “I have to give you credit for that and for a lot of other things.”
“Of course I already knew that they were taking their untested drug,” Kinnard said.
“I told that to the District Attorney right from the beginning,” Kim said. “It didn’t influence him that much.”
Kinnard looked back at the impressive ruins. “This old building must have burned awfully quickly,” he said.
“The fire spread so fast it was almost explosive,” Kim said.
Kinnard shook his head again, this time in gratitude and awe. “It’s a marvel that you got out yourself,” he said. “It must have been terrifying.”
“The fire was practically anticlimactic,” Kim said. “It was the other stuff that was so horrifying, and it was a hundred times worse than one could ever imagine. You can’t believe what it’s like to see people you know in such an animal state. But the one thing it did for me was underline that all drug taking, whether steroids for athletes or psychotropic drugs for character enhancement, is a Faustian contract.”
“Medicine has known that for years,” Kinnard said. “There’s always risk, even with antibiotics.”
“I hope people will remember it when they are tempted to take drugs for what they believe are personality flaws, like shyness,” Kim said. “Such drugs are coming; there’s no stopping the research that’s going to develop them. And if someone doubts they will be used for such purposes, all they have to do is look at the expanded use of some of the current antidepressants in such questionable ways since they’ve been on the market.”
“The problem is we’re developing a culture which thinks there is a pill for everything,” Kinnard said.
“That’s exactly the reason that there is bound to be another episode like the one I just lived through,” Kim said. “It’s inevitable with the potential demand for psychotropic drugs.”
“If there is another such episode, I’m sure the witch industry in Salem hopes that it will occur here,” Kinnard said with a laugh. “Your experience has been a boon for business.”
Kim picked up a stick and poked into the rubble of the castle. Metal objects had been distorted out of shape because of the intense heat.
“This house contained all the material legacy of twelve generations of Stewarts,” Kim said. “Everything is lost.”
“I’m sorry,” Kinnard said. “It must be very upsetting.”
“Not really,” Kim said. “Most of it was junk except for a few pieces of furniture. There wasn’t even one decent painting except for the portrait of Elizabeth, which survived. The only thing that I truly regret losing are the letters and papers I’d found about her. I’ve lost them all and only have copies of two that were made at Harvard. Now the copies are the only corroboration that exists concerning Elizabeth’s involvement in the Salem witchcraft upheaval, and that’s not going to be enough to convince most historians.”
They stood for a time gazing at the ashes. Finally Kinnard suggested they move on. Elizabeth nodded. They walked back to the car and drove over to the lab.
Kim unlocked the door. They passed through the reception area and Kim opened the inner door. Kinnard was amazed. It was just empty space.
“Where is everything?” he asked. “I thought this was a lab.”
“It was,” Kim said. “I told Stanton everything had to be out immediately. I told him if it weren’t, I’d donate it all to a charity.”
Kinnard made a motion of dribbling a basketball and shooting it. The sound of his heels echoed in the room. “You could always convert it to a gym,” he said.
“I think I’d prefer a studio,” Kim said.
“Are you serious?” Kinnard asked.
“I think I am,” Kim said.
Leaving the lab, they drove on to the cottage. Kinnard was relieved to see it hadn’t been stripped like the lab. “It would be a shame to destroy this,” he said. “You’ve made it into a delightful house.”