Wolves Among Us (26 page)

Mia listened to the rain hitting the thatched roof. A few drops burrowed their way inside and left dark streaks on the floor. A chill crept around her.

“If I take this potion from you, will I be guilty of witchcraft?”

“No. You are not making spells. You are only breaking a spell. And you have greater worries than accusations that cannot be proven.”

The cottage darkened as Hilda spoke, the storm coming closer. Alma shivered and Hilda retrieved a shawl, handing it to Mia.

“Have you something else to say to me?” Hilda asked. “You do not take this vial? What else are you hiding? What is the real reason you ran?”

“I just want to think.”

Hilda opened the door and peered out. Rain struck hard, rattling the green spring leaves above. “Women travel many miles to find me. When they arrive, they need time to find their voices. But you do not have time, Mia. You must tell me, whatever your burden is, right now.”

“I am confused. I want to pray, and I cannot ask a witch for counsel about God. And it is God that I most need right now.”

“Oh, I may know God better than you imagine. I find Him here, in the forest, quite often.”

“Blasphemer.”

Hilda cocked her head and waited.

Mia chewed on her lip, looking away from the vial. If Bjorn was bewitched, it was logical to believe that only another witch’s work could set him free. This vial could give him hope. It could deliver him. Hadn’t he provided for Alma? Hadn’t he kept them both alive and clothed, no matter how lean the years were? Bastion could not be trusted to do it, not if he desired Mia for himself. She had no way to break that spell. It was not witchcraft, she knew, but just a common evil.

“I ran away because I was afraid. I had wanted to die in the forest. But you found me.”

“What were you so afraid of, my child?”

“Myself.”

Hilda threw back her head, laughing.

Mia put her hands to her face. She would not cry in front of this woman.

Hilda shuffled forward, putting her hand on Mia’s arm.

“Mia, when I was a girl, I wanted to be a wife and a mother. My mother and my sisters died, three of them in all, and my father left me forever, alone in this little home. I was twelve. One day I found a woman wandering in the woods, delirious with fever. She had tried to abort her unborn child by drinking a potion she had bought from a wretched peddler. The pregnancy had ended but not expelled, and she was dying. I pulled her into this home, and I cared for her until she died. She is buried behind the home, and she is not alone. Many women since then have come to me. I have learned many recipes and charms, but not everyone lives, no matter what I do. Imagine it: an old woman with a garden of dead women. Think of how it must look to a stranger. But I know the truth about myself. I am not an evil woman.”

“But the whisperers in town say you are not a good Christian, either.”

“My methods are outside the church, yes. But they work. Can you always say that about your prayers, your penance, your devotion? You go to church but don’t get answers. I make my little recipes, and I always get results. I have answers for my women. I cannot believe that a good God could be angry if I only try to fix what is broken.”

Mia reached for Hilda’s hand and took the potion, holding it to the light. The dark glass vial revealed nothing.

“You say this will release Bjorn from witchcraft? He will no longer suffer bewitchment?”

“Never.”

“Is there no other way to set him free?”

“None. I give you a pledge that is certain.”

Mia inhaled, not looking at Hilda. “Will it make him love me?”

Hilda’s face spread into a slow smile. “Ah. Now I know why you ran.”

“Don’t embarrass me. Just answer.”

“No, it will not. But a good wife would see that he drank it, just the same. I can make another potion, if you like, one that will bring you happiness. One that will make your heart lighter.”

“No, thank you. If I do this, will you keep Alma here? I will return when I can.”

Hilda shuffled to her and rested a hand on Mia’s arm. “I will watch over her with all love and care.”

Mia tucked the vial inside the tiny bag on her belt. She went to Alma, sitting in her pallet. She took Alma’s hand and kissed it, rubbing the pudgy little knuckles with her own finger. Alma was perfection. Mia kissed the top of her head. “I will be back for you when it is safe. Try not to be afraid.”

Alma teared up and buried her face in Mia’s skirts.

The door flew open. A flash of lightning illuminated a man standing in the doorway.

“Bjorn.” Mia gasped.

Chapter Twenty-one

“Mia?” Bjorn did not move. He squinted, the hard rain showing him no mercy, pelting him from above, causing rivers to flow from his brow to his mouth. He wiped at his face and stepped in.

“This is your husband?” Hilda asked, shaking her head, moving to the back wall.

Alma ran to him, shoving her arms against his shins, pushing him back through the doorway. Bjorn picked her up, pinning her arms against his chest, leaning his head away from hers as she thrashed.

“Alma,” Mia yelled. “Stop.”

“What are you doing here?” Bjorn asked. “I thought you ran away. I thought you were in danger.”

Hilda’s hand had closed around a knife, and she pointed it at him. “Get out. Get out, or I’ll do worse than curse you.”

“You are the witch the women speak of, aren’t you?” Bjorn said. “Mia, what have you done?”

“She found Alma and me in the forest and brought us here. I didn’t come looking for her.”

“Mia, are you a witch too? Did you start it all?”

“Get out!” Hilda screamed.

“My own wife has done all this to me.” He looked mystified.

“No. I am not a witch. You must believe that.”

A flash of lightning cut across the sky as wolves howled, shrill calls above the low growls of thunder. Bjorn stumbled through the door into the room, almost landing on his knees before regaining his balance.

“He doesn’t believe anything good about you, Mia.” Bastion pushed him out of the way, stepping into the room. More men stood behind him. Mia recognized them from the village. She felt a cold wind blast in through the door. The great storm that had been lingering on the edge of winter, on the edge of the village, had come.

“Thank you, Bjorn,” Bastion said. “I had every faith you would lead us to Mia. But this,” he said, pointing at Hilda, “this is a surprise. This must be the witch the women confessed to, the one who undermines the village.”

Bastion picked up Alma, stroking her hair as the men poured into the home, dragging a screaming Hilda out into the rain. Alma went limp, her eyes wide with fear. Bastion smiled at Mia.

“I am surprised you ran away. You knew deliverance was at hand.”

Mia took a deep breath and forced herself to look Bastion in the eyes. “Put her down. You came for me.”

Bastion turned to Bjorn. “I know why I followed her. But why did you, Bjorn? Why are you here?”

“I did something stupid. I should have known better. But I listened to Father Stefan. He said if I found Mia, if I guaranteed her safety, it would prove I was a good man. It would prove my claim of witchcraft.”

“As if you need proof. But you should admit the truth to cleanse your conscience. Why did you follow her? For her? Or for yourself?” Bastion watched Mia as he waited for Bjorn to reply. Mia looked at the floor. She did not want to be won this way. She did not want to be won at all.

Bjorn did not look at her again, but shrugged like a child caught in a lie. “I did it for you, Bastion. For your work to continue.” Mia looked back up as Bastion smiled at her, his eyes half closed. He heard the lie in Bjorn’s words just as well as she did. Bjorn had come here only for himself. Not for Mia. He had done nothing for Mia and never would.

Hilda’s scream from outside the home broke through Mia’s heart. She lunged for the door. Hilda was an old woman. No one should hurt her.

One of Bastion’s men grabbed Mia by the arm. Bastion and Bjorn lunged for him at the same time. Bastion moved faster, throwing the man to the ground in front of Mia.

“Do not touch her!” Bastion said.

Bjorn stepped over her. “Leave her to me. A man has a right to punish his own wife.”

Hilda screamed again, a clotted sound. Bastion glanced in the direction of the door.

“Bjorn, you must see that the men use some restraint with Hilda. Try not to let her die until I can question her.”

Bjorn glanced between Mia and Bastion, then went out the door.

Bastion set Alma down. “Go and sit on the bed, little one.”

Alma stared at him and did not move. Mia reached out and nudged her arm, not taking her eyes off Bastion. “Go on, Alma. Go sit.” Alma obeyed, sitting on the bed, then curling into a ball, sucking her thumb, her eyes like deep white moons.

Bastion slapped Mia. “What have you done? Why did you not trust me?”

Mia covered the burning spot on her cheek with the palm of her hand, too stunned to cry. “I do not trust you. But neither do I trust myself with you. That is why I ran.”

Bastion pulled her in, and she did not resist, her limbs cold with fear. He moved her hand and kissed her red, stinging cheek.

“Was there ever a woman like you?” He pressed his mouth and nose into her neck, inhaling deeply. She felt his chest expand against hers, his warm hands on her cold arms. She tried not to close her eyes.

He nuzzled her as he spoke. “You must stop listening to your little fears. Do you want to die? Do you want Alma to die? In the village I came from last, they burned no fewer than five girls.”

Mia let out a breath.

“I can still save you,” Bastion promised.

Her mind presented answer after answer, dozens of them in the space between two blinks of an eye. She should reject him and call on the name of the Lord. She should ignore her conscience and do whatever he asked to save Alma. She should scream for Alma to run. She did not realize her mouth moved as she sorted through all the choices, until he put a finger to her lips.

“This is what you will do. Admit nothing. Insist on your innocence. I will see to it that you are cleared.”

“And Alma?”

“Alma, too.” He sounded surprised, as if he had forgotten about her.

He went out the door and yelled at the men as a chilling breeze swept in. Bjorn appeared in the doorway, removing his belt, his hard and determined gaze making her shiver. The men talked quietly, but the cold wind brought the words to her ears. Hilda was dead. She had confessed nothing.

Bastion chastised the men, his back still turned. Bjorn took a step toward Mia. She flinched as she imagined the belt across her face. Still, she motioned for him to come nearer. She had to try to do the right thing, no matter who he was inside, no matter that he wouldn’t do the right thing for her.

“I am no witch,” she said as calmly as she could. “But I do know how to break the spell over you,” she said, taking the bottle from her bag. “Bastion told me that only another witch can break a witch’s spell. Hilda gave this to me when I begged for help for my husband. Drink this, and you will be completely free. It’s the only way to be free.”

Bjorn walked behind Mia, pulling her arms behind her back, using his belt to bind her wrists together. He ran one finger down the soft length of her forearm, then he took the vial from her hand.

Bastion returned. “Use my rope, Bjorn. It is easier to pull a woman along a path than to push.”

Bastion walked to Mia, carrying a rope, and ran the rope once around her waist, moving in front of her as he tied it off.

The tears on her cheeks shamed her in front of Alma, who looked at her with fear and anger.

Bastion handed the rope to Bjorn.

“I shouldn’t lead her. She is your wife.”

Stefan could not get used to the smells inside the cell. Bjorn would not have washed them. Bjorn would want a criminal to suffer in every way, and once, Stefan would have agreed.

He hoped he would get used to it after the first hour, but two nights had passed. Every time he relieved himself it grew worse. He could hear very little weeping today. The women in the cells flanking him had worn themselves out. Without family to pay for food and drink, many now saw their third day of starvation. Stefan hoped the other women, those who had families unafraid to visit them, shared their drink and food. If they did not, women would begin dying before Bastion could burn them. Stefan wondered if they preferred that. He wondered where Bastion and Bjorn had been and when they would return. He did not want to speed that hour, but neither did he want to remain here.