Wolves Among Us(69)

He rubbed his eyes, clearing the dust. He hadn’t slept at all last night.

With the uproar over Bjorn, Bastion had suggested it best to dispatch Mia the next day. He said Mia needed one more night to consider her crimes and repent. He had not asked where Alma was. He seemed to have no interest in the little one. Not that it mattered now.

Stefan looked over his stretching shadow. Morning sped along too fast. He had much to do. He walked through the square, empty except for a stray rooster pecking about. Even the dogs were not at the windows this morning, pushed aside by their masters. Stefan saw faces, human faces, popping up and then withdrawing, spying on the two stakes set in front of the church steps.

Stefan stepped into the baker’s shop, buying honey syrup. It would do fine. He would return home and mix it with the preparation from his own garden. Stefan rarely had a chance to make this recipe. Rarely had he need, except when some white-haired old man needed a broken leg set, or a frightened child needed a rotted tooth out.



Bastion was sitting on the steps, watching the boys work, when Stefan returned. Ava’s cage was covered. At the sight of it, Stefan patted the bag hanging from his belt, as if to remind himself what he must do.

Bastion sighed, frowning at the stakes.

Stefan sat beside him. “Mia did not confess, I heard. Is this what is troubling you?”

“Mia is troubling me, yes.”

“Tell me something, Bastion. When did you first understand what you were to do with your life?”

Bastion looked in the distance. “I was a child.”

“Go on. It’s a good day for stories. Let’s sit and have a drink while the boys work.” Stefan offered him a flask. Bastion eyed it, then stared at Stefan, who smiled.

“Come, Bastion. I would like peace.”

Bastion sat on the steps and reached for the flask. He took a long draught and wiped his mouth. He shook his head before starting. “I was a child. Maybe seven or eight. I thought my mother a good woman. She could be very industrious. She fed me sweets all the time, little raisins soaked in honey or wine. She’d give me a pile of sweets and then leave me for an hour or so. Oh, I’d stuff myself. But she did not dote on my father that way. We both knew he did not love her. I didn’t even think he saw her. He traveled often. When he returned, he ate and slept. Then left again. One morning I woke up, alone in the house, except for him. He had been away. He must have returned in the night while I slept. He asked me where my mother was. I had not realized she was gone. I did not know what women did.”

Bastion’s voice faded.

“And then?” Stefan prodded him.

Bastion shrugged. “I told him. There was a neighbor she often visited. I pointed toward the man’s house, and my father left me. A few minutes later, the neighbor came stumbling out of his house, blood spurting from his throat. He had been sliced clean. I never saw my mother again. I am grateful my father spared me that sorrow. He must have killed her.”

Stefan sat, silent. There was nothing he could say.

“That is when I knew how I would live, although years passed before I knew there was a name for this work. I wanted to save women from their sin. Women must not repeat her mistake.” He sat quiet for a moment, thoughtful. “But perhaps I am getting too old for this,” he finally continued, “or growing careless in my work. It seems that some women cannot be saved. But I must not trouble myself. There are other towns that need me. I will go to a new town after this.”

“Yes. Once a man sees what must be done, he should think of nothing else.”

Bastion took another swig and grinned, casting off the memories. “I’ve never known a priest like you. Inconstant is the word I would use. I cannot predict a word you will say.”

Bastion yawned. He had not slept last night either. Stefan had heard him, sitting against the wall instead of lying in his bed, banging his head against it. Whatever Bastion wanted here, it eluded Stefan. Stefan decided not to dwell on it. It would not matter soon.

“Come with me inside, Bastion. You should rest.”

Bastion spit on the ground. “I don’t want to sleep. I want to watch these boys work. I want Mia to see these stakes and consider what she has done.” Bastion drained the last of the flask and stifled another yawn again.

“You were up all night. I heard you.”

Bastion looked away, so Stefan pressed further. “I’ll not doubt you again about your work. Only recently have I begun to understand mine. But you should lie down in the dormitory. The day ahead of us is a long one.”

Bastion needed help standing. Stefan led him to the dormitory, feeling Bastion become heavier with every step, leaning against Stefan. He began murmuring like a child, speaking about strange things like his generous nature and women’s inconstant temperaments. Stefan deposited him onto a bed, lifting his legs onto the straw mattress, resting his arms at his sides.

He leaned down and called Bastion’s name but heard no reply. Stefan slapped Bastion, hard. He did not move. The flask had done its job.

Stefan reached into Bastion’s bag and removed a key, placing it in his own bag.

“Good-bye, Bastion.”



Ava pried his fingers off the lock, then bent her head down and tried to bite them.

“Stop!” Stefan said.

“What are you doing? I’m going to die today. Bastion promised.”