Salem’s Night Out
by
R. Brian Campbell
“Salem,” Abigail called. “Salem, where are you?”
A black cat raised her head from the window ledge, where she had been dozing in the light of the full moon. She yawned, stretched, then leapt to the floor. A slim young woman, with long, jet-black hair, and a black form fitting dress, slit daringly up both sides nearly to the hip, landed lightly, and glided towards the front of the small hovel. “What is it, Mother?”
“There you are. I was just getting ready to leave. It’s a full moon, the night of the Witch’s Howl. I just wanted to let you know not to wait up.” Abigail was tall and lean, with snow-white hair, but in spite of it, didn’t look much older than her daughter, even though she was several centuries old. She wore a long, flowing black gown, with long sleeves ending in a loose fringe at the wrists, partly covering her hands. She set her pointed hat on her head at a jaunty angle and reached for her broomstick.
“Oh, Mother. You’re not seriously planning to wear that again,” Salem groaned, rolling her luminous green eyes.
Abigail shrugged. “It’s tradition. All the witches will be wearing them.”
“And the warlocks?”
“They will be wearing their hooded robes and carrying their staffs, of course.”
Salem snorted and mumbled something about old witches. “Just to shake things up, why don’t you borrow one of my dresses?”
Abigail’s pure black eyes widened. “One of your dresses? Do you want to get me kicked out of the coven? Thanks, but I’ll stick with what I have. I have an image and a reputation to maintain. Now, keep an eye on the place while I’m gone. Don’t get into any trouble.”
“Yes, Mother,” Salem mumbled, as Abigail stepped out of the doorway, straddled her broom sidesaddle, and launched herself into sky. Salem watched her mother’s silhouette cross the moon, en route to the Witch’s Howl, and shook her head. She always does that on purpose, just to scare the town’s people. What a showoff.
Salem looked around the tiny cottage she shared with her mother. “Keep an eye on the place, indeed. I need to get out and stretch my legs.”
But where to go? Haven? Nah! Not much happening there. Havoc! Yes, that’s the place. You can always count on finding some action there, as long as you don’t mind getting a bit dirty. Well, it’s a long way, best not sit around thinking about it. She closed the door behind her, set the wards, and a moment later, a black cat was running through the Black Forest, heading for Havoc.
——————————————————
On the outskirts of Havoc stood The Serpent’s Breath, a tavern, of sorts, that catered to some the most disreputable characters in the realm. Salem paused, looking at the door, then moved on. A bit more excitement than she was looking for at this point. But things could change. She continued towards town.
Salem had barely entered Havoc proper, when her keen hearing picked up raised voices coming from an alley ahead of her, and she could sense both hunger and fear, not from the same person. Something was definitely going on. She found the alley the sounds were coming from and turned down it. Her night vision picked up two people struggling, a woman and a much larger man. No. Not a man. A werewolf. Looks like the predator had found a snack.
Her first instinct was to move on. It was none of her business. But when has something being none of her business ever been the deciding factor in whether or not she got involved? Besides, she needed some excitement. Salem, the cat, casually strolled down the alley.
“Please, sir. Please let me go,” the maiden pleaded.
“But I just found you,” the werewolf responded, chuckling, in a deep, gravelly voice. He was still in human form, but hair was growing so rapidly that it was easily noticeable. His ears and nose were elongating, sharp fangs forming, and his hands were transforming into large, long fingered paws, with long, sharp looking claws. “I think I should get to know you better. Maybe have you for dinner. Yes, that would be an excellent idea.”
Salem scampered between his legs, then transformed, coming up behind him. She tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me.”
The werewolf turned, and Salem’s fist struck him in the muzzle. She transformed into a cat, shot between his legs, and transformed back. The werewolf spun back around, in time for his face to connect with a foot going the opposite direction. His head snapped back with a spray of blood and broken teeth. Before he could recover, Salem kicked him in the groin, then in the face again. He went down like a broken clothesline, collapsing in the middle of the alley.
Salem stood over him, as he curled himself into a ball. He had returned entirely into human form, and was writhing on the ground, groaning. Salem poked him in the ribs with her toe. “Okay, big fella. Party’s over. Get your hairy butt up and out of here, before I decide to get rough.”
The werewolf stumbled to his feet and began staggering away, using the wall for support. Halfway up the alley, he stopped and turned. “When my pack finds out about this, kitty cat, your life won’t be worth a copper piece. Just wait and see.”
Salem smiled sweetly. “When they find out that you were beaten by a female feline, they’ll laugh you right out of the pack. But go right ahead and tell them, pup. I’ll be around. But I won’t wait long. I have better things to do. Now, run along, pup.”
When the werewolf had disappeared around the corner of the building, Salem turned back to the young woman. “Now, how are you doing? Are you injured in anyway? Do I need to fetch a chirurgeon?”
“No. Thank you,” the maiden tearfully replied, still visibly shaky and unnaturally pale. “You arrived just in time. He was… He was… was going to…”
“He was going to eat you,” Salem snarled. “That was what he was going to do. He was going to eat you alive. What were you thinking, going out alone, this late on Witch’s Night? Were you looking for trouble? Because that is all you will find, wandering the streets alone.”
“N-n-no, I ww-wasn’t. I just went for a little walk, I was thinking of someo- some-Thing, and I lost track of time.”
Salem smiled. “So which was it? Something? Or someone?”
The girl hung her head. “Someone.”
“That’s what I thought. Now listen… Uh…”
“Hannah,” The girl supplied.
“Listen, Hannah. I don’t know who this gentleman is, or what he is to you, but I doubt he is worth dying for. And if he is any kind of man at all, he would agree with me.”
Hannah nodded.
Salem put a hand on her shoulder. “Now it’s time for you to get home. Do you need me to walk with you?”
“No, thank you. My home is just at the end of the block. I was almost there when that… thing caught up with me. I should be okay, now.”
“I’ll watch from here, just to make sure you make it safely.”
“Thank you.” Hannah started down the street, then stopped and turned. “Uh, miss…”
“Salem.”
“Salem. Why are you out alone this late on Witch’s Night?”
“That would be because I’m looking for trouble,” Salem said, with a smile, her green eyes twinkling. She transformed and faded into the shadows.
————————————————————-
Salem found the tavern district, and glided down the street, checking out the local alehouses. One sign caught her attention, and she stopped, gazing up at it.
“Ale’s What Cures Ya.”
Cute. This looked like her kind of place. She transformed and sashayed through the door.
The tavern was in full swing, as she entered. Men and women were sitting at tables or standing at the bar, talking and drinking. In one corner of the room, two men were engaged in a knife throwing competition, using the tavern’s corner post, with an X carved in it, as a target. Several others were betting on who would win. A large fireplace occupied a portion of the back wall. Next to it, a trio of musicians, playing gittern, viol and tabor, had taken up residence, with a hat for donations set in front of them. There was little coin in the hat, but a crowd had gathered to listen and dance.
She strolled to the bar and ordered an ale. The bartender set a colourful ceramic tankard in front of her. She looked at it and nodded her appreciation. Pretty fancy glassware for a small town tavern. Impressive. And speaking of impressive… A thin young man, bordering on skinny, with an unruly mass of orangey-red hair and the beginnings of a moustache, was leaning against the opposite end of the bar, staring at her and grinning, Well, maybe impressive wasn’t correct word, but kind of cute, though. And definitely someone who doesn’t fit into this place, fancy glassware notwithstanding. Salem smiled back, raised her tankard, then turned and sauntered over to where the music was playing.
She stood at the edge of what passed for a dance floor, enjoying the music, while taking in the atmosphere and casually studying the crowd. A sextet of rough looking men were openly watching her, pointing, commenting and laughing. Their intensions were obvious and soon, one of them would- Ah, here he comes now.
Goaded by his friends, one of them strode forward and reached for her arm. “Cummere honey. Let’s dance.”
Salem deftly shifted, pulling her arm away as he grabbed for it. The lack of an arm to hold onto caused him to stumble. Salem stuck out the toe of her boot, catching his foot and causing him to lose his balance completely. He hit the floor face first, forcing several dancers to dodge out of the way. His friends all began to laugh uproariously.
The ruffian climbed to his feet, blood dribbling from his nose, glaring at her angrily. “You did that on purpose.”
“Don’t blame me for your clumsiness,” Salem responded, holding his gaze and returning an icy stare.
He shambled forward again, arms reaching out. “You owe me a kiss, to start with.”
“I think not.” Salem ducked under his arms, sidestepped, and tripped him again, sending him sprawling a second time.
“My, but aren’t we having a bad evening,” Salem commented in mock sympathy. “Might I suggest easing up on the ale? If you aren’t careful, you could get yourself seriously injured.”
The thug’s friends were doubled over, laughing. His face was dark with pure hatred. “I’ll teach you to make a fool of me.” He charged her, his arms wide, attempting to block her sidestep.
“You don’t need my help for that.” Salem stepped straight into him and smashed her tankard on his forehead. He fell like a dropped stone, ale and pieces of colourful broken glass landing all around him.
The man’s friends had stopped laughing, the musicians ceased playing, the alehouse was deadly silent. Out of the corner of her eye, Salem saw the bartender heading her way, brandishing a heavy cudgel.
He strode right up to Salem, cudgel resting on his shoulder, surveying the scene in a glance. He looked her in the eye. “Ma’am. Would you care to explain this?”
Salem returned the bartender’s gaze and gestured towards the man on the floor, who was beginning to revive. “We had a slight difference of opinion, he refused to let it go, now he owes me an ale.”
The bartender attempted to maintain a stern expression, but the corners of his mouth turned up and his eyes twinkled. “Doesn’t surprise me. Wouldn’t be the first time Jasper’s offended one of my female patrons, especially with his buddies urging him on.” He looked down at Jasper, attempting to regain his feet. “Never had anything like this happen before. Look, I don’t blame you for your reaction, but it is normal procedure, here, to bring any issues to me and let me deal with it.”
“I handle my own problems,” Salem advised him.
“In this tavern, all problems are my problems. If you plan to be a regular customer, you may want to get used to it.”
“Maybe it would be better if I left.” Salem began to turn away from the bartender.
The bartender watched as Jasper staggered over to his friends. They were all giving Salem some very nasty looks. “I might suggest that you stick around for a bit. I’ll buy you another ale.”
Salem was also watching the six thugs. “No. I think it would be best for everyone if I left now. Have a good evening.” She turned and walked out the door, smiling to herself.
When the door closed behind her, the six ruffians got up and followed her. As they walked out, the skinny redheaded man abandoned his drink and exited the tavern, as well.
———————————————–
Salem could hear the footfalls behind her. She mentally counted the sounds. Only three of them. Three were missing. Then her ears picked up furtive scuffling in the alley ahead of her. Ahh, there they were. Her lips curled into a smile. Now this was the kind of excitement she was looking for. Come on little mice. Come play with the cat.
As she neared the alley, she heard the footsteps behind her closing the gap.
A hand grasped her arm. “Hold on, bi-”
She whirled in the direction of the hand, ducking low under his arm, pivoting on the ball of one foot, as the other leg swept out, cutting him off at the knees. He crashed down on his back.
“Were you about to suggest that I was a canine?” Salem hissed. “How dare you!” She sprang into the air and brought both knees down on his chest and stomach, rolling forward the moment she landed. The two men following him jumped back when she attacked, but the three from the alley rushed forward. She spun towards them, long nails raking the first one’s face, while she kicked the second in the stomach. She reversed the direction of her kicking foot, back-kicking the one she had clawed, sending him crashing to the ground.
Jasper held back a couple paces, letting his friends take the lead. Now he smiled, showing several cracked and broken teeth, in addition to a large number of superficial facial cuts and scratches. “So you think you’re tough, do you?” He slid a long dagger from its sheath and tossed it from hand to hand. “Let’s see just how tough you are. I’m going to make you scream.”
The first ruffian she had attacked was still on the ground, gasping for breath, but the other two had already regained their feet and, joined their buddies. They all drew knives and encircled Salem.
“So that’s the way it’s going to be,” Salem hissed.
“Any final requests?” Jasper taunted.
“Yes. To whom should I deliver your remains?”
The gang laughed, nervously.
“Hey!” A voice called out. “Back off and leave the lady alone.”
They all turned, to see the skinny red-headed man striding towards them. “This is none o yer business, flopdoodle,” Jasper roared. “If you know what’s good for ya, you’ll haul your arse outta here, before you get spitted an gutted.”
Salem added, “Far be it for me to agree with this saddle goose, but it would probably be best if you turned and walked the other way.”
The young man smiled and shrugged. “I’ve never been one to do what is best, especially when the alternative is to do what is right. So you’d better count me in. WATCH OUT!”
Salem transformed, as a knife thrust passed over her, followed by a stumbling Jasper.
She transformed back, behind Jasper. “Since I met you, you’ve spent most of your time stumbling and falling all over the place. Here. Let me help you with that.”
While Jasper was attempting to regain his balance, Salem stepped into him from behind, grabbed and twisted his wrist back, plucked the dagger from numb fingers, then slipped it under his ribcage and into his heart. Jasper stiffened, gasping. Salem released him. He staggered forward two steps and fell face down on the ground.
Salem spun, as she heard a growl and a scream, abruptly cut off, behind her. She turned to see a huge bullmastiff straddling a dead man, his throat torn out. The dog’s mouth was crimson with blood. The other three toughs were running as fast as their legs would carry them.
The young man returned to human form, wiping his bloody mouth on his sleeve. He grinned at her. “Apparently they didn’t want to play anymore.”
Salem smiled at him. “I could have handled them.”
“I know you could have,” The young man concurred. “But I didn’t think it was fair that you were having all the fun. My name is Rolf.” He held out his hand.
“Salem.” She gripped his forearm, soldier style. “And thanks.”
“So, Salem, what is it you have against canines?”
“I…uh…”
“There she is.”
Salem and Rolf turned to see a large pack of werewolves closing in on them. At the front of the pack was the werewolf she fought earlier, walking alongside the pack leader.
“You mean to tell me that this one feline actually beat a member of my pack?”
“Well… I mean… She caught me by surprise. She-”
“As a matter of fact, here is one of the reasons I have little fondness for canines.” Salem whispered to Rolf.
“You seem to make a lot of enemies,” Rolf replied.
“I suppose I do.” She agreed. To the werewolf, she said. “I told him not to bother you with this. There is simply no reason to-”
“Hush,” The pack leader ordered. “As embarrassing as it is, I can’t allow someone to wolfhandle one of my pack. I must make an example of you.” With that, they all began to transform, growls and howls emanating from a number of throats.
“That is a lot of werewolves,” Rolf whispered.
“As big as your canine form is,” Salem responded, “I don’t think they will be very intimidated. Any ideas?”
“I recommend we beat a hasty retreat. Trust me?”
Salem looked him in the eye for a moment, then nodded. “I don’t seem to have much of a choice.”
“No, you don’t.” Rolf smiled. “When I transform, you do the same, then jump on my back and hold on tight. Don’t worry. I can handle a few claws. Okay, NOW!”
Salem leapt on the bullmastiff’s back as he charged the wolf pack leader. At the last second he leapt over the leader, touching down on the next werewolf’s back, before leaping clear. He took off running, Salem clinging to his back.
He ran several leagues before slowing to a halt. Salem leapt off and they both transformed.
“Turn around,” Salem ordered. As Rolf turned, she could see the blood trails on the back of his tunic. “Now remove your tunic.”
“Do you do this with every man you meet?”
“Remove the tunic or I’ll tear it off you.”
“I love it when you’re forceful. Ow! Okay. I’ll remove the tunic. Just let me keep my ear.” Salem released Rolf’s ear and he pulled his tunic up over his head. She used some medicinal plants to clean and bind the deep claw marks, while Rolf tested her patience with jibe after jibe.”
Finally, she was done. “You can put your tunic back on.”
Rolf donned his tunic and turned around. “So, is life with you always this… interesting?”
Salem shrugged. “Sometime yes. Sometimes no. Too much for you?”
It was Rolf’s turn to shrug, then smile. “Actually, I was finding life kind of boring. I needed something to liven me up.”
“So did I, actually,” Salem admitted. “You’re not so bad for a canine. Who knows, we may even be good for each other.”
“Thank you, I think. So does this mean, you’ll get us into trouble, then I’ll get us out?”
Salem glared, then softened. “Well not exactly. Or maybe it is. Or vice versa. I don’t know. We’ll have to figure it out.”
Rolf smiled at her. “I’m okay with that. You’re not too bad for a feline, either. I suppose we could try it out and see what happens.”
“One thing though.”
“Uh, Oh. What is it?”
“Well…” Salem hesitated. “You see, my mother is Abigail, the witch. We live in Dismal Swamp, deep in the Black Forest.”
“Ahh… That could present a problem. What would she think of me?”
“She’d probably turn you into a toad. Just kidding. Actually, I have no idea what she’d do. It may be best that we don’t introduce you, at least for now.”
Rolf shook his head. “Can’t say that I’m happy with that plan. But, if you think it best. For now.”
“Just for now,” She promised, then leaned forward and kissed him. “So how about a ride home?”
“Don’t hurt me.” Rolf transformed and Salem the cat leapt on his back. He took her to the edge of the clearing, where her cottage stood.
She jumped off and they both transformed. They had a lingering kiss in the moonlight. “See you tomorrow?”
“Count on it.” Rolf transformed and took off, heading back to Havoc.
Salem disarmed the wards and opened the door. “Hello? Anyone here.” Empty. She had beaten her mother home. She flopped down on her bed and stared at the ceiling. Now that was a very good adventure. And a very interesting guy. Not bad, for a canine. Not bad at all. No telling what tomorrow would bring, but things were looking up. But what would mother think?