Page 46 of Night of the Witch
My fear isn’t as potent, though, giving way to acidic confusion.
And that confusion surges up even more when the kapitän motions to the table at the back of the room, that one chair.
“Sit, please?” he asks. “I have a lot to tell you, and little time in which to do it.”
14
OTTO
I want to glare at the witch—but I do understand her confusion and rage. I wipe a hand over my face, schooling my emotions.
“I can’t tell you where your sister is.” Fritzi speaks before I can press that question further. There’s a manic gleam in her eye, and I think she’s not telling me everything, but I can wait. If I answer her questions, she’ll answer mine.
I hope.
I take a deep breath. “The first thing you should know is that you ruinedyearsof plans to stop the hexenjägers.”
Okay. From her flashing eyes and the snarl blossoming over her lips, I could have perhaps stated that better.
Her eyes rake over my body. I’ve taken off my hexenjäger robes, but I may as well still be wearing them for all the hate she directs at me. Before she can say anything, though, I tell her about my sister and our plan to take down the hexenjägers from within.
I watch her closely, seeing the shift from distrust to doubt to tentativeacceptance. She’s wary—which means she’s smart—but I think she believes me. I hope she does.
When I finally finish, there’s nothing but silence and darkness between us. I wait for her to say something.
“How many?” she asks finally.
My brow furrows. “How many?” I repeat.
“How many innocents died as you went along with this charade?” she asks, her voice rising. “How many people were burned alive while you waited to make your move?”
“Too many,” I whisper.
It was an imperfect plan, but… “We tried other plans first, some to limited success, some that failed,” I say, the only excuse I have. “We…wetried. It was just the two of us, separated and young and inexperienced, but it wasn’t enough.”
Fritzi remains still and motionless. She has learned the same lesson I have, it seems—silence begs its own form of confession.
“I had first thought that I could dismantle the hexenjägers from within.” I meet her accusing gaze head-on. “It’s tough to break through the indoctrination. Not just of the hexenjägers. Of the people, too, who learn that it’s simpler to obey, to look away. They don’t start with murder.”
“They ease you into it,” she says bitterly. “So why didn’t you succumb?” She waves her hand at my confused look. “To theindoctrination.”
“My father,” I say.
“He taught you to reject cults and see through lies?” Her voice rings with mocking.
“No,” I say. “He taught me the consequences of succumbing to them.”
She casts me a doubtful look, but I explain my stepmother’s fate to her.
“Aren’t you the little paradox?” she muses.
I can see why she says that, but she never knew my stepmother. WhenFather wasn’t around, she’d tell Hilde and me that religion is half politics anyway—which prince you serve determines how you pray. And the Holy Roman Emperor himself doesn’t seem to pray to anyone but whatever lover he currently has. True faith, she said, was personal. Not political.
But that’s the problem, I suppose. Because if you serve a prince that’s Protestant, and he’s killed by one that’s Catholic, suddenly you’re slaughtered for treason and damned for heresy, all in one fell swoop. And the Pope’s in Italy and the Emperor’s in Bohemia, and there’s no one to stop anyone else from raising a stake one way or another.
My stepmother didn’t really care about any religion. My father turned his into a weapon.
“So…you just wear a black cloak and crucifix as a disguise, huh?” Fritzi asks.
