Wolves Among Us (24 page)

“Get up,” the woman said.

Mia could not move. Her limbs were numb.

“Do not fear me. Stand up.”

Mia tried to bend her legs but only whimpered, the sound drowned out by the piercing of crickets.

The woman’s hands took her by the arms, cold bones like frozen straw under such thin skin. The grip tightened. The woman had surprising strength. The pain of these old fingers digging into her arm comforted Mia. The pain broke the spell of numbness, the blankness of exhaustion.

“Get up, or I will leave you here.” She released Mia and stepped back. A wolf appeared behind a tree just feet from the woman. Its black lips curled up as it growled. Mia froze. The woman turned to the wolf and clicked her teeth at it. It stepped back, watching something near Mia.

A snake slithered away from Mia under the leaf litter. Leaves bobbed up and crunched as it moved. The wolf whined as the snake fled.

With a grunting series of shuffles, Mia managed to stand, lifting Alma into her arms. She could not set Alma down again here. Alma did not wake but recognized her mother’s movement and wrestled into a comfortable position against Mia’s chest.

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.

Stefan had a Mass to do. No one would attend, of course. They would be with Bastion. He tugged at his tight collar. The air in the room was stifling.

He walked out of the dormitory but decided not to follow the path into the church. If Stefan could do nothing else, he could stand with his flock.

He turned at the gate and walked toward the hungry crowd. Bastion saw him coming and raised his voice to keep the crowd’s attention.

Bjorn caught up to him, pulling at Stefan’s arm.

“Let me go, Bjorn.”

“I know Mia came to see you. I want to talk to you.”

“No, not now.”

“Mia’s life depends on it.”

“Have you harmed her?” Stefan stopped, turning to face Bjorn.

“Do what Bastion wants. Help us destroy the witches in the village. For Mia’s sake.”

“If you love her, get her far away from here. Save her from this.”

“Save her? You do not understand. I am the one that needs to be saved.”

Stefan pushed him aside, taking each step up to Bastion.

Bjorn climbed the steps and took hold of Stefan’s arm. “Let Bastion finish this work. We can be free of all this.” Bjorn gestured to a clump of women huddled together behind Bastion. Some bled from the nose, others had hot red marks slashed across their arms. None looked up. They pushed together with moans like frightened sheep.

Stefan shook off Bjorn and went to the women, kneeling. He removed his outer vest and spit on it, using it to wipe at the blood, pushing hair out of faces, trying to help, touching his women for the first time. Tears ran down his cheeks, blinding him until he could do nothing more for them. Then he stood.

“Witchcraft has not been proved! These are your sisters, your neighbors, your wives! You cannot let Bastion have them!”

Bjorn grabbed Stefan with more force. “Come down, Stefan. This is the only way. You do not understand.”

“He can’t set any of you free of your sins! He does not offer salvation!”

“If he doesn’t, they will all die anyway.”

Stefan pulled his arm free, and Bjorn grabbed him again, pushing him to the ground. Stefan went limp just as he had seen Bastion do. Bjorn released him. Stefan got to his feet, slugging Bjorn in the cheek, sending him spinning down the stairs. Stefan turned to go after Bastion, but men from the crowd jumped on him, wrestling him back, kicking him until he could move no more.

“Stop.” Bastion’s voice shot through their grunts and curses.

Stefan looked up and saw their faces receding and Bastion peering down at him. Bastion clucked his teeth as Bjorn jerked Stefan to his feet, shoving him in the direction of the jail. Stefan couldn’t feel his legs.
God’s mercy,
he thought. They were bruised beyond anything he had ever felt.

Bjorn dragged him through the wooden jail door, the rough frame catching Stefan on the shoulder, ripping threads from his robe. The jail resembled a row of horse stalls, all wood with a filthy main aisle and sunlight peeking in through gaps in the roof where the wood had rotted. The jail stank. Stefan held his breath.

Bjorn pushed Stefan into a tiny stall. Stefan saw that he had no way to lay down, nowhere to relieve himself, no window to see out into the village. He could see Bjorn’s profile in the small cutout window in the doorway to his cell.

“Save Mia and Alma, please. For me. Send them to another village. She came to me for help, confused, and I screamed at her. God willing, it will be the last mistake I make in this village.”

“She ran away last night with Alma. She has not returned.”

“That does not mean she is safe. You know as well as I about what lives in the forest. You must keep her safe, or nothing you ever do will be enough to purge your guilt. And mine.”

“Am I guilty, Stefan? Or am I bewitched? I sat in your church every day, years upon years, and it did nothing to stop the vile desires of my heart. I’ve sat though your Mass and partaken of the Host, then left to ravage a woman. I did that, Stefan, after receiving your blessing, your pardon in God’s own name.”

“Bjorn.” Stefan covered his eyes with his hand in sorrow.

“So tell me, Father, why could I not stop? I wanted to.”

Stefan could say nothing. Bjorn slammed his fist against the door.

“Who compelled me to sin: your merciful God or a witch?”

“Neither.”

“No. If a man wants to stop but he can’t, that is a sign. He has been bewitched.”

“It is not a sign. It is sin. And Bastion can’t set you free from that. Punishing others can’t set you free from yourself. Bastion has arrested almost a dozen women by now, hasn’t he? He’s even burned Rose. And are you free? If so, where is your peace, Bjorn?”

Bjorn did not answer, but he did not turn away. He had to listen. Truth riveted anyone. Stefan knew with more confidence than he’d ever felt before that he was speaking the truth.

Stefan saw the shameful expression on Bjorn’s face and inhaled a long, sharp breath, when he suddenly realized yet another truth. “Rose carried your child, didn’t she? You’re the reason she turned cold to Mia, refused to speak to her again. And Catarina? Cronwall?”

“Ah, Catarina. She was not a compliant woman. I had such sympathy for Cronwall after a while. I had to do it, or she would have destroyed my good name. I could have been arrested, and now I see I did not even commit a crime. It was not me at work at all; even Saint Paul says the Devil is at work in our flesh. You should hear Bastion preach on that.”

“But why Cronwall, too?”

“Cronwall was first, of course. I killed him instead of the wolf one night. He was half drunk, though. He was going to kill me if I didn’t stop him. I don’t understand, actually, how he could treat her like that and become so enraged when I touched her. That man was an utter mystery.”

“But why did you dump them on the church steps? Why did you not try to hide your crime? Were you proud of what you had done?”

“Don’t you understand? It wasn’t me. If you want to talk, you have to stop these lies, or I will walk away.”

Stefan bit his lip to keep himself from shouting. “All right, then. Why did the Devil prompt you to dump the bodies there?”

“The Devil’s most famous sin is pride, Father. Even you teach that. So I suppose that was one reason. But I think it was an accusation against you, against God. Think now: I hardly ever missed church. I asked God to stop me from coveting what was not mine, every day. But the urges were always there. Nothing could stop me. I began to doubt God even existed. A good God would not let me suffer like that. And then Bastion came. He showed me that belief in God wasn’t the problem. I had no belief in the Devil. That’s why the Devil found it so easy to control me. That’s why I had to hurt others. He had control, and I did not know it.”