Page 47 of Night of the Witch
I pause. I feel her trust in me is fragile at best, and one wrong word will have her going for my throat. But I also feel like she deserves the truth.
“I believe in God,” I tell her. “I am Christian. But I reject the Church.”
Her lips snarl in disgust, and I see her whole body tense.
“There is a difference,” I say quietly, “between someone who holds a personal belief and someone willing to kill anyone who doesn’t share that belief.”
It’s not enough to convince her. I can tell that immediately. Her hands are curling into fists, her eyes darting back to the door, even if she knows she cannot throw herself at it bodily. To her, I suppose, the God I pray to and the one the archbishop murders in the name of are the same god. Maybe they are. I don’t know. I only know that when I pray, I do not pray for death.
I pray for forgiveness.
And I know that I am not alone. It is that knowledge, that faith—notjust in God, but in the good Christians who do not wish to paint the city streets red with blood. The people who look at my cloak in disgust, the ones who dare to spit on me… They are my only source of hope.
Fritzi’s eyes are big and round as they watch me. She’s still wary, still unsure.
Still untrusting.
It would not help, I know, to point out that not every person who bends their knee in prayer agrees with the archbishop and his reign of terror. I don’t even bring that up.
Fritzi is a woman who doesn’t need words and promises. She needs truth and action.
I meet her eyes, and I do not flinch away. “I have shown you from the start that my actions are my own, and they’re not violent. And now I am asking for your help.”
She cocks her head but doesn’t answer.
“Can you bring me back my sister?” I ask, my voice cracking. Hilde would know what to do. She always did.
Fritzi’s eyes shift away from mine. “I cast a spell of protection on her,” she says. “I was trying to save her. That was all it should have done—just kept hersafe.” She pauses, face falling. “I can’t undo it.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
She bites her lip. “Can’t as long as bringing her back would put her in harm’s way.”
That twists my stomach. Being besidemeputsherin danger, a danger that’s so dire a magical force keeps Hilde away from me. A few days ago, I would not have believed this possible. But I saw the way Fritzi leapt out the window and magic pulled her back in. Isawmagic protect her.
“But then where is she?” My voice rises in my desperation. It kills me that Fritzi flinches in fear, but I can’t help it.
She throws her hands up. “She’s safe; I swear!” But the worry in her eyes belies that statement. I have to take it on faith then. If she will trust me, I will have to trust her. And pray that Hilde is safe.
“Is the kommandant back in Trier?” Fritzi’s voice is so soft that I almost miss the question.
“Yes.”
I watch her body closely. I have seen her shake with rage before, but never fear. Until now.
“Did he bring back a witch? One like me?” She meets my eyes, emotion warring in the pale blue depths of hers. “Younger than me, but with magic? My cousin.” Her voice breaks. “Liesel. Does he have her? If you can free her and bring her to me, she can help us find your sister…”
Her voice trails off when she registers my sorrowful face. I know of no prisoners Kommandant Kirch brought back from Birresborn. At least, none were registered in the records. To my knowledge, Kirch and the troops returned with nothing more than the stench of smoke clinging to their cloaks.
“Can’t you do something to find your cousin?” I ask. “And my sister?”
“I’m a green witch,” Fritzi says, as if it were obvious. “I use herbs for spells that offer protection, strength, and things of that nature. My cousin is an augur—she can read the future in flames, or ask questions of the fire, and it obeys her. Not every witch is the same. We have different affinities.”
This makes me freeze, but I don’t think Fritzi notices the way my blood runs cold. Her words echo what Dieter told me this morning, outside the Porta Nigra.He knows, I think.About real witches, their powers.
“Kommandant Kirch did not tell me he had another real witch,” I say.
Fritzi’s jaw sets. “Hedoes,” she snarls fiercely.
