Wolves Among Us(65)

One woman stifled a giggle, but the hysteria caught. All the women began giggling. The jailer cursed the day of his birth, which made the women laugh harder. A sigh swept through them before silence returned.

“Mia?” Dame Alice asked in the darkness.

“Yes?”

“Why would you never come in and eat with me? Why did you hate me so?”

“I never hated you!”

“You ran. You refused to hear my voice. You knew I called your name.”

“I was afraid.”

“Of me?”

Mia could not answer. The answer floated in the darkness above her, too big to put into words.

“I was afraid. But I am not afraid anymore. I am sorry.”

“How many hours now?” someone asked. Mia could not tell who was in each cell around her; she could only judge the distance between them as near or far. She wondered if horses in a stable felt this disoriented.

She looked out her window into the hall, trying to judge by the light. “It’s not quite noon, I’d guess. They’ll be coming for us in a few hours.”

“Do you think we’ll die fast or slow?” someone asked.

“Do not give up hope,” Mia said. “We don’t know what might happen.” Mia had courage to say this. She believed in miracles now, and in strange and wonderful timing.

“I know what will happen, They will torture you.” The voice sounded like Mary, the girl from the village with the dry cow. “They’ll tell you that the Devil puts a spell on his witches so they can’t reveal his secrets. He erases their memory, makes them go mute. That’s when Bastion takes a hot poker to your body, or tears out your fingernails, or pulls your shoulders out of their sockets. Innocence is the worst thing you can claim when you go before them. It’s a trap.”

Mia sat back on her bench next to Alma, covering Alma’s ears.

She heard the jailer thanking someone. A hooded figure appeared at her jail window in profile. She could see nothing of the face, just shadows where the robe fell forward. Alma began to squirm in her arms, and she pressed her face into Mia’s stomach.

Mia’s jail door opened, its hinges grinding, giving Mia a cold shudder. Bastion pushed the robe off his face and came to sit next to her.

He put one hand on her neck and pulled her ear to his mouth.

“When you stand before me, say nothing, and I will save you,” he whispered.

Mia tried to say something, but he pressed a hand against her mouth.

“Do not try to thank me. It would give us away.”

She shook her head. He eased the pressure against her mouth, and she whispered. “Do you have any food? For Alma?”

Bastion released her, pushing back and standing as if he had never seen the child before, a shocked look on his face. He began patting the bag on his belt, bringing up a nibbled rind from a bit of cured pork. Alma turned her back to him, refusing it.

Mia took the rind and forced it to Alma’s lips. “You will eat this, Alma.”

The jailer appeared in the square window, tapping his keys on the door. Bastion threw the hood back over his face.

Mia used her sternest voice. “I said to eat this, Alma. Keep your strength. We do not know what will come. To starve is to die.”

“I know what will come,” Bastion whispered before he stood to leave. “Remain silent. I will save you.”



If deception had damned them, just as it had Eve, Stefan knew the one true cure. He led Bjorn to kneel at the altar, telling him it would be wise to pray for wisdom and strength. If Bjorn prayed for anything other than his own desires, Stefan could not guess. But it gave him time to slip to the cupboard where the Bible was kept. He had no time for anyone to teach or interpret.

“I cannot wait for help to arrive, Lord,” he whispered, bringing the book out and laying it across the top of the cupboard. A wind blew through the hall, flipping the pages of the Bible, and Stefan turned, expecting to see the mother cat, come round to beg for food. The door leading outside was still closed. Stefan turned, slower this time, back to the Bible. It was open to the book of John. Jesus was speaking:





I am come that they might have life and have it more abundantly. I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep. A hired servant sees the wolfe coming and leaveth the sheep. The wolfe catches them. The hired servant runs because he is a hired servant and careth not for the sheep.


Stefan served as a priest, but he had chosen; he was no hired servant. He would be a shepherd. He would not leave his sheep, not while a wolf was here. Whatever happened, Stefan would never leave them.

Bjorn was done praying. He called for Stefan. Stefan left the book open and out. He would not hide it again.

Bastion’s face registered shock when he saw Stefan and Bjorn sitting on the church steps in the morning sun. Stefan held his breath, waiting to see what Bjorn would do.

“Are you joining us, Stefan?” Bastion asked, watching Bjorn. “Did Bjorn finally win you over?”

Stefan could not stay close to the women, but he could stay close to Bastion, which might prove of greater benefit to them. “Yes. I am looking forward to today. That may sound strange. But it was a strange night.”

People began approaching from the square, most walking straight to Bjorn or Bastion with beaming faces.