Wolves Among Us(39)

“Rose is dead, Stefan. You should be in here praising God instead of questioning His ways. ”

“Tonight is Bastion’s last night here. He did his job, rooting out the witch who stirred up trouble among us. I’ll accept that. But I will see that he is gone by tomorrow morning.”

Bjorn looked confused. “You do not know?”

“What?”

“Rose confessed during her questioning. She said there are dozens more witches in our village. Witches that fly with the Devil to Sabbath meetings, where they smash the sacred Host wafers under their feet and commit evil, indecent acts with their demon lovers, or even Satan.”

Stefan’s stomach pushed up into his throat, making him want to vomit. He shook his head. “Do you hear yourself? This is madness. It will end tonight, and Bastion will leave in the morning.”

Bjorn smiled, a kind, pitiful smile that comes with bad news. “No. Bastion has only begun.”



Alma stirred in her bed, her little rump sticking up in the air, her thumb rooted in her mouth. Mia did not wake her even though the breakfast was ready. Margarite sat by the window, staring out at the spring green leaves fluttering on the trees, inhaling the sharp scent of the evergreens. Mia had sprinkled some seeds outside the window to draw the birds, seeds that had split as she dried them and were of no use to her garden. A brilliant red cardinal found them first, but he did not eat alone for long. Margarite seemed to enjoy the activity.

The morning mist had burned off early, promising them all a perfect spring day. Bjorn had not slept late after all, though. He had said no more than five words to her last night, coming home stinking of smoke and the sharp metal tang of blood, and he had nothing to say when he woke. Mia’s heart ached. Rose had been the witch. Mia must have done something to make her vengeful or hurt her. Even Rose’s dying words were a curse on Mia. She wondered why Rose would do that, tell Mia she would burn too. Mia was no witch. She had never even visited the old healer in the forest, not even when the other wives had told Mia about her.

“Come with us, Mia,” Rose had begged her when Mia had been big with child. “She can make sure you deliver a boy.”

None of the women ever spoke in public about the healer, never acknowledged her when she slunk through the market gathering herbs and oils. Mia knew that to be invited was to be welcomed into the secret sisterhood of the village, a sign Mia had passed their invisible tests. But Mia knew something they didn’t. Mia knew what people did when they were frightened by new knowledge, new beliefs. Mia would get her answers from Father Stefan. God would honor that.

“No, I should get home and cook for Bjorn.”

The women had rolled their eyes and gone on without her. Dame Alice had started to say something to Mia, but Rose shushed her.

Mia wanted to tell all of this to Bjorn, to lay it all out for him. He might see where she had committed her error.

Mia had held her breath when he came home last night, waiting for some sign of their new life now with the witch gone. Bjorn had slept hard and left in the dark hours of the morning with nothing to say.

Mia’s thoughts were interrupted when she saw Bastion standing in her doorway.

Mia gasped in her embarrassment, being caught daydreaming when the day’s work stretched out before her. Bastion only smiled and leaned against the door frame.

“May I enter?”

Alma cried out from a nightmare. “Excuse me,” Mia said as she whirled around to attend to Alma. The girl was sitting up awake in her bed, pushing herself against the wall in fear. Mia patted her and turned back to Bastion. He had moved closer, standing next to her now.

“She is still recovering,” Mia said, looking down. Her stomach fluttered. “She was unwell her whole first three years.”

“’Tis no wonder, with the witches about. Would you walk with me outside? You would feel more comfortable, I think.”

Mia nodded. It would get him out of her house before anyone could see him in here. “I’ll be just beyond the door, Alma. Play with your doll for a few moments.”

She stepped outside into a perfect spring morning, into a world oblivious. Had she imagined the strange and unwelcome feelings Bastion aroused? He was smiling and kind today. But on a morning such as this, anyone could be mistaken for a saint, she supposed.

Bastion offered her his arm.

She quickened her pace.

“You said ‘witches’?” she asked. “You meant to say ‘witch,’ of course.”

“Why does that alarm you? I wonder, do you wish your troubles gone or do you wish me gone?”

The words stuck on her tongue, hard to say. “Rose is gone. Alma has been much better. I do believe she was healed that night.”

“The night I came to you?” He had baited her again, she suspected.

“Shouldn’t we be careful to give God the thanks for the miracle?” She smiled at him, as if in innocence, to see how he would respond.

He did not reply, but his eyes narrowed. There was wariness in them, recognition that she might be a challenge.

No use trying to outpace him, she thought, stopping. She had spent too many years trying to outrace her fear and sorrow. She refused to do it any longer.

“What if it’s me?” Mia blurted out. “What if I am the cause of all this trouble? I brought it with me.”

“You are such a kind, godly woman. Your fear is proof of it.”