Wolves Among Us(53)

The woman dropped the rope to the forest floor, holding one end as it fell. She stepped closer until Mia could smell meat on her breath, and fresh sage. The woman ate well. She was strong. She tied the rope around Mia’s waist and stepped back, giving it a tug. Mia stumbled forward but the knot held. The woman clucked her teeth at her and began walking. The rope dug into Mia’s back, forcing her to follow or fall.

Mia walked in the darkness, not able to see the woman, only seeing the rope extending a few feet in front of her. With the rope taut, Mia knew which way to face, where to set her feet. She walked until her arms returned to life, burning. She tried rearranging Alma, setting her up more to her shoulder, then more on her hip, but it did not give much relief. Mia had never known such pain. Still, she focused only on the rope, only on the next step. She tried not to hear the softly padding steps of the wolf behind her. She tried not to hear the wolf calling to its pack, and other wolves appearing from between trees along the path.

The woman led her to a clearing. Under the generous new supply of moonlight, Mia saw a thatched home, much smaller than her own but more inviting. The windows held a golden welcome, a sign of a fire inside at the hearth. Mia fell to her knees, unable to take another step, letting Alma tumble down onto the grass. Mia’s arms were of no use. She knew she should cry out for help, but who would hear except wolves and this strange woman, this witch?

As if she heard Mia’s thoughts, the woman turned back just once more. “My name is Hilda.” At that, Hilda dropped the rope, opening the door and disappearing inside. She left the door open.

The black hungry forest stood at Mia’s back. Predators crawled and called, scratching against trees and uprooting rocks. The wolves circled and waited, pawing at the ground, sniffing the air.

Alma had opened her eyes and was smiling at Mia, looking with curiosity at the clearing and the small house with the golden windows. Mia nudged her, turning her face so she would not see the ring of wolves so near.

Mia stood, praying for strength, groaning at the heaviness in her joints. She took Alma by the hand, stumbling toward the open door, the rope trailing more behind her with every step.

Mia took painful, heavy steps. The door seemed to move further away with each one. Mia did not have the strength. She stumbled, forcing herself back up. A wolf stepped into the clearing, too near. Mia’s heart beat faster, her breath burning in her chest.

Alma moved in front of her, still grasping her hand, and pulled. Mia followed, letting Alma’s strength overpower her dead muscles. Alma pulled Mia to the door. Mia pushed a fist into her chest, trying to breathe. Pain squeezed at her ribs.

Mia fell to the floor as Hilda closed the door, scolding the wolves for coming too near. The last thing Mia saw was Hilda leaning over her with hollow eyes and sunken cheeks. Mia remembered raising her hand, pointing to Alma.

“Her name is Alma,” Mia said, slipping away. “Please do not let her die.”





Chapter Twenty


Stefan poured fresh water into a bowl and scrubbed until his face and neck glowed red. He had looked into Ava’s eyes in the glowing white moonlight and had seen himself. He believed everything he had been told and too late realized not everything had been true. Not about God. Not about salvation and sin.

Bastion sighed, running his hands down his robe, down his vest, smoothing out wrinkles. Stefan took a moment to smooth out wrinkles too, with extra care to pick at stray hairs. He pressed hard, trying to stop his hands from shaking. The last secret he had kept was his decision to call for an Inquisitor. Stefan did not trust his own judgment now.

“You look good, Stefan.”

“Do not speak to me.”

“You are afraid. Do not mistake fear for wisdom. You’ll do something stupid.”

“I am not afraid,” Stefan said, digging his nails into his palms. He shook them out. “I trust God will avenge His name.”

“Perhaps He will. But how do you know He is not angry with you? How long have you shepherded these fine people? When was the last time you saw true salvation in any of them? You’ve strung them along—that’s what I think. You promised life and salvation and couldn’t deliver. That’s why you called me in. You’re no better than a man who cannot satisfy his own wife and sends her off to find a lover.”

Stefan lunged at him, grabbing him by the neck, slamming him into a wall. Bastion relaxed, going limp, a gentle expression on his face. Stefan dropped his hands and stepped back. Bastion reached out and tried to pat him, but Stefan pushed his hands away.

“We both knew you couldn’t do it,” Bastion said.

Stefan shook his head, staring at the floor.

“Look at me, Stefan.”

Stefan refused. Bastion stood closer, bending down to see Stefan’s face.

“Your war is not with me, brother. Your war is with yourself. I will finish the job you brought me here to do. I will gain confessions from these women, and I will burn them. Then I will leave. But you will still be here. You will still be their priest. I do not want that job. I am not fighting you for it.”

Bastion stepped back and straightened up, then breathed into his palm. He poured fresh water into his hand and slurped it, swishing it in his mouth before spitting it out into his bowl. “These people will need a good priest when I am finished. I hope you are that man.” Bastion walked out toward the crowd waiting for him to conduct his interviews.