““Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, while I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.”
–Edgar Allan Poe
“Nevermore,” I heard a silky voice whisper into my ear. A wisp of cool breath tickled against my neck, and I jumped. My eyes burned from exhaustion, and my heart was thumping hard in my chest.
“It wasn't all a dream, then,” I said, somewhat disappointed, but at the same time a little relieved.
Salem simply smiled at me. “It is midnight.”
“It is?” I looked at my watch to be sure. “It is! I must have dozed off while reading. So…what happens now?” My voice shook as I spoke.
“Your mother didn't just leave on a whim,” he said grimly, and quite suddenly.
I stared at him groggily. “What? You know my mom?”
“I met her once before,” he said. “You might say I am familiar with her boyfriend more so than her. She left this letter with me, to give to you on your birthday.”
“How did you know where to find me?”
“She told me where you would be. Just read the letter.”
I tore the letter open, my heart racing once more. How much agony was I going to have to endure before this was all over? I read down the letter, slowly taking in each word—
'Alexis, September 9th,
Happy birthday, sweetie. I know the circumstances are a little different than you might have anticipated, but trust me – things are only going to get better. Paul was the one that insisted I leave – maybe not quite like this, but nevertheless, you shouldn’t put the blame entirely on me. You can beat him up for that when you see him again.
I left a present for you with Salem, whom I hope has been kind enough to explain the situation with you more than this letter can. While having a house of your own with no expenses might seem like the perfect eighteenth birthday present, that was more of a gift to me than it was to you. I hope you like it and can find some use for it.
Visit Paul as soon as you can. You will understand even more clearly when you do.
Love always,
Mom'
Before I could ask, Salem passed me a gift box. This led me to believe he had read the letter, but I ignored that thought. I ripped the bright pink wrapping paper away, revealing a simple cardboard box. It wasn't taped, but the flaps had been folded so it wouldn't open. I popped up the flaps to reveal a black, leather-bound book. When I opened it, the pages were blank. I looked at Salem, as if he might have an answer for me.
“What is it?” He leaned over to have a peek.
“Is this some sort of diary?” I laughed. Mom should have known by now that I had no interest in a diary. I had never written in one before, why would I start now?
“I suppose it must be.” He looked a little shocked, as if he was expecting something entirely different. “Whatever it is, your mom wanted you to have it and that's all that is important.” He smiled.
“Please tell me this isn't what I waited all night for.”
“It isn't.” He glanced away from me; his eyes turned toward the vast window behind the sectional. “Now that you are eighteen, your mother thinks you can handle the truth.” He sighed heavily. “I don't know why I was the one left with this task. Perhaps because Mark decided to whisk your mother away at the last moment, giving her no chance to explain, and—”
“The truth about what?” I demanded, breaking him off mid-sentence.
“Your heritage, your real family.” He glanced up at me. “I know this is all very sudden, and it is going to be confusing and hurtful, but I need you to listen. Janet isn't your real mother, Alexis. Nor is Desmond your father.”
I nearly laughed, but stopped myself when I noticed how serious Salem looked. “Of course they are my parents! I have been with them all my life!”
He smiled warmly and took my hand, leading me to the sofa. I sat down hesitantly beside him. “Paul is your real father.”
“As in my uncle Paul?” I shook my head and laughed. “That's impossible. Is this some sort of prank or something?”
“Think about it, Alexis.”
And I did. I thought hard, picturing Desmond and Janet in my mind. I looked nothing at all like them. My father was dark-skinned, lanky and there was no resemblance between him and me. My mother and I may have shared the same dark brunette hair and light complexion, but everything else about us was different. My head was spinning; this was too much.
“Relax,” Salem whispered, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “It is going to take some adjusting to, but in time, it will all make sense. I promise.”
“If you’re telling the truth, then why didn’t Paul say something before?” I didn’t want to believe him, but the further I thought about it the more sense it made. I wanted to cry, to scream, to escape. This was all too much in one day.
“He had to wait. It wasn't safe, until now.” Salem's blue eyes were serious again and there was no sign of the warm smile he often wore. “Have you ever read about the Salem Witch Trials?”
Why was he suddenly changing the subject? What did this have to do with anything? I nodded slowly, recalling reading about it in middle school. I supposed he was trying to distract me.
“Remember how I told you my name was a bit contradictory?”
“Yeah, sure.” I remembered it more than I wanted to admit.
“My mother was an ancestor to Alice Gray,” he spoke quietly, “she was the first witch to be executed during the Trials. Do you understand how this is contradictory?”
“Yes...” I muttered. “What does this have to do with anything?”
“The world isn't as simple as it might seem, Alexis.” He stared out the window behind us. The water rippled elegantly; the bright moonlight reflected upon the lake's surface. “Coincidences simply aren't coincidental.”
The cake. The cake wasn't coincidental? On came the spinning again. “What are you trying to tell me, Salem?” I gasped, trying to breathe.
“Calm down,” he whispered. “The witches in Massachusetts were real witches.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re a witch?”
“Warlock would be the correct term, I suppose,” he replied with mild humor, “but no. I'm not a warlock—at least, not exactly.”
“Not exactly?” I eyed him suspiciously.
“I have some...special abilities. Nevertheless, I am definitely not a warlock.”
“I think you have a bad case of sleep deprivation or something, Salem. Or you’re…I don’t know…this is insane.”
He smirked. “I don't sleep. It isn't necessary for me.”
“What?” I laughed, knowing I must still be asleep and suffering from bizarre dreams brought on from the stress of yesterday’s events.
“I'll explain that another time.”
“I should go home...” I blurted out suddenly. “This is all wrong. This is all crazy…you're crazy!”
The last words clearly stung. “I am not crazy. Neither are you. And you are in no condition to be driving right now. You can stay here.”
“Here?!” I shouted, bewildered. “Would you stay in some stranger’s house after they told you your parents weren't who you thought they were for the past eighteen years, and then told you he had special 'abilities?!"
Salem frowned, and his eyes reflected the sadness. “Honestly, I probably wouldn't – if I didn't know all of this was true.”
My mind was racing with questions and worries, but soon they all seemed to fade. A sense of calm filled me and I felt completely at ease in Salem’s presence. “What are these special ‘abilities’ you claim to have anyway? And how do you do them?”
“That cake.” He smiled sheepishly. “I can make things materialize like that.”
“What? How?”
“It's a long story, Alexis.” He leaned back on the couch. “You probably couldn't handle it all right now. I'll tell you more tomorrow.”
“I can handle it,” I insisted, although I knew that was a lie. In fact, I was almost certain I was somewhere on the side of the highway, unconscious in my flipped over vehicle and my mind was wandering into madness as I slowly slipped away, because this was impossible. This was not real.
Wake up, Alexis, wake up! I thought to myself as my mind raced almost as fast as my heart.
“I won't tell you any more until you have rested”, he said firmly. “Would you be more comfortable sleeping on the sofa or in the guest room?”
I wanted to decline both options and yell that I’d prefer to sleep outside in my car, but instead I found myself agreeing to sleep on the couch.
“Good choice. There are much more dangerous things out there to you than me.”
It was true that he hadn’t hurt me yet, and he had had ample opportunity while I napped earlier.
I didn't object to him helping me stretch out across the sofa, nor did I notice him leave the room to fetch a blanket and pillow. I had to admit that this was comfortable, warm and much better than struggling to sleep in the Alero.
“Goodnight, Alexis, sleep well,” Salem whispered as my eyes fell shut uncontrollably. Sleep overcame me quickly as I silently hoped I would wake up in my familiar bed to find this had all truly been a dream.