Wolves Among Us by Ginger Garrett

Author:Ginger Garrett
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781434703743
Publisher: David C. Cook
Published: 2011-07-22T14:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Stefan looked at the boys’ dirty faces. Their bodies were smeared with ashes. The eldest insisted he should be paid more, as he had collected the bones. Bastion requested the bones be saved for him. He would smash them and scatter them in the river, sending Rose’s—the witch’s—remains out into the sea, where she would be lost forever. Stefan pressed a coin into each palm covered in ash and grime.

“Bless you, Father,” one boy called, running for home. Their mothers would be filled with joy at the money. Or maybe they would pause for a shy moment before extending their palms, thinking this was blood money—blood money that Father Stefan had brought to them all.

It had been the right thing to do, calling for an Inquisitor. A murder had occurred—two murders, in fact. Left on the church steps like a dare. Bjorn could not have been counted on to understand the enormous opportunity. He had even seemed hostile to the idea of calling for an Inquisitor. Stefan heard tales of Inquisitors, always busy in more prominent towns, always doing great works that the church fathers would not soon forget. The village of Dinfoil could be remembered too. Great works could be done here. Two murders gave reason enough to call for an Inquisitor.

“I have done what was right,” Stefan prayed aloud, “and yet, Lord, my soul is not at peace. Something raw lies in my heart that will not let me rest. Is it something I have done? Have I failed You somehow?”

The candles below the altar burned but did not dance. Stefan saw that nothing stirred the air. He was alone. Maybe he had always been alone in here. Or maybe God would not answer because the answer must be brought up from Stefan’s heart.

Stefan cleared his throat, grateful to be alone. He was going to say something foolish. “I brought Bastion here. But the suffering he caused does not seem right to me. I cannot argue with what he says. He is smarter than I am, and better educated. All I have is a painful sense that You are not pleased. Is it me, O Lord? Do I displease You? What more do You have for me to learn?”

After a long, empty silence, he looked around, his eyes noting the seat Rose had preferred. He had known her for more than ten years, since her husband came to work the land for the baron who owned much of this village. She had arrived in winter, and Stefan had gone at once to welcome them. Rose had clutched his hand and thanked him, over and over, for such kindness. To a frightened young bride in a new village, a kind priest was a lifeline.

She had attended every service, except when her husband’s recurring illnesses prevented her from leaving their home. He had declined fast after the wedding, leaving her with work and no children for comfort. After the funeral, Rose had continued to stay on in the village, a faithful, friendly face as he said Mass.

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