Wolves Among Us(19)

“Praise God,” a man muttered. “Let us be done with evil.” Other voices carried over the pops and cracks of the burning wood. A stench foreign to Stefan, foreign to them all, spoiled the air, seared into the night and memory, sneaked past them by the smoke, soaking into their clothes, their hair, their village.

“I always knew she wasn’t right.” Another voice Stefan did not recognize. He did not know this side of his people. He caught sight of little Marie looking at him as if he was a monster. She did not understand. She was still too young to know right from wrong.

“A fine girl Catarina was,” he heard someone saying, “until the day she came to market with bruises round her wrists. Her husband away on a journey, said she hurt herself carrying water buckets. Never the same after that.”

“Her eyes were cold. No life in them anymore.”

Stefan saw Bjorn on the other side of the crowd, observing it all from a distance. Bjorn caught Stefan watching him and nodded without expression. Bjorn crossed his arms, his body settling into place as if ready to hear Bastion turn the village upside down. Stefan turned away, telling himself his cheeks were flushed from the bonfire’s heat. Bastion paced in front of the fire, his eyes wide with excitement as the corpse burned. People circled and leaned in, waiting for his next word.

God burned Sodom and Gomorrah. Stefan reminded himself of that, for strength. God’s work was sometimes done with fire.

They wanted to hear what he said. And what he asked would be done immediately. They aren’t the sort of people who respond so well, Stefan thought. At least not to him. Now he could see they were exactly that sort of people. Stefan did not want to look at Bjorn again, but he did anyway. What had he taught his people, indeed? Bjorn’s criticism had been right. Tonight he knew this with grim certainty: His congregants hid from him, in plain sight, sitting through all those Masses and prayers and penitence with no intention of changing. If Bjorn asked again why his prayers went unanswered, Stefan would tell him this.

Bjorn had pushed his way to the front of the crowd, close enough to grab Bastion if he wanted. Stefan couldn’t reach him without calling attention to himself. He was stranded in this crowd of unrepentant sinners and a woman’s burning body, her beauty turning into a vision black and unrecognizable before their eyes.

Stefan’s shoulders slumped. He must apologize to Bjorn later. Bjorn had been right. Bastion would not stay longer than two or three days at most. Stefan would learn how to lead the people, how Bastion called up their obedience and hunger for righteousness with only words. Stefan would be Bastion’s most devoted student, and his people would prosper. That was what a good priest must do.

Bastion ducked his head, whispering something to Erick. Erick looked with great sorrow at Stefan before disappearing. He returned, wheeling a cage straight to the crowd. The people pushed into each other, making room for Erick, none wanting to touch the cage.

Catarina’s burning body made the air smell foul. Villagers lifted hems and sleeves to their faces, blocking the smell. A worse smell, almost inhuman, seeped from the cage Erick drew near. No one wanted to know what could be inside the cage, covered by a thick wool blanket, but no one could turn away. They pressed their clothes harder against their mouths and noses so that only their eyes remained visible on their faces. Stefan could not tell them apart.

Bastion stepped in front of the cage, giving the people something to focus on, an excuse to look away from Catarina’s lovely blonde hair rising up to the moon as it caught fire.

“Search your hearts. Think on Catarina, a seducing witch who caused an innocent man’s death. Consider what evil hides among you. Witches are real, my friends. The Bible teaches their existence and says we must not suffer a witch to live. These witches, what do they want from you? Do you know? Have you guessed? A witch craves what is forbidden, and what is forbidden but carnal knowledge? Witches will drive a good man to do terrible things. And their power in this village may be great.”

“But what of the cage?” Erick asked. “What is inside?”

“No, I can see I have told you all too much tonight. Go home and rest.”

Stefan moved beside Erick. “Where shall I put the cage?” He would secure it somewhere out of sight. Bastion would probably sleep in tomorrow, and everyone would be anxious to attend the first Mass of the day. Stefan would use his most thunderous voice to speak the old Latin words. The people would find great comfort in Stefan—the way a child runs to his mother after a frightful dream in the night.

“Put the cage where it can be secured at all hours, near the church,” Bastion answered. He said it loud enough for several men in the front row to hear. “No one must be allowed near it for fear of their very salvation.”

“What is it?” Stefan asked, ready to kick himself as the words left his mouth. He sounded as eager as Erick.

“I think it’s an animal,” Erick whispered to him. “Smell it.”

Bastion sighed as if exasperated. “Let me relieve your impatience,” he said, then took hold of the corner of the wool blanket. With a violent snap it ripped away. A beast crouched in the corner, thick, tangled hair hanging down past its spreading haunches. It was covered in filth. A handful of yellow teeth broke the dark opening of its mouth; underneath, its eyes were covered with crusts of mucus. As the crowd watched, it picked at a scab.

Stefan studied the beast with the slow realization that it was a woman. Erick ran to the edge of the woods and vomited.