Page 47 of Heart of a Witch
“It wasn’t a witch,” I said. “I didn’t see anyone there who was acting suspiciously.”
He gritted his teeth. “This is retribution, for taking out seventeen of them.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Her blood had been boiled!” Priest Montague stood, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead. “I felt her body. She was hotter than a candle.”
I shook my head. “She had a fever accompanying her disease. Perhaps one in her blood. Let us wait for the doctor to finish looking at her before we—”
My father slammed his fist against a wall. “I’m going to find who did this.”
“No one did this,” I said again. “Witches wouldn’t dare come here, and we’ve known these people all our lives.”
“Then look for any newcomers to town, or women who look… out of place.”
A lump formed in my throat. Victoria. Naturally, he’d think her a suspect. His paranoia always went asylum-worthy when he talked about witches. It was the Blackburn Witch Hunt all over again, where the small town had gone into a frenzy some fifty years ago and killed hundreds of innocent women, believing them witches when the plague had come to their town. “I’d seen Lady Abor coughing before the sermon tonight, and I may have seen some blood from her nose a week ago when she out walking.”
“Are you certain?”
I looked at my father. “Yes. I believe she’s been unwell for some time, probably afraid to tell anyone.”
Priest Montague placed his hands in his lap. “Women are known to come to hysterics when they are sick.”
“We will investigate. In the meantime, we must have Father Abor checked for the same symptoms. It could be contagious.”
Father Montague nodded. “Let us pray tonight, Lady Abor recovers well.”
“Indeed.”
I let out a tense breath. “I’ll pray for her.”
“Get some rest, son. Your ball is tomorrow.”
I’d hoped tonight’s events would have at least postponed it. It marked the beginning of my new journey to becoming a hunter, but how could I become one when I’d just lied to save anyone from being accused of witchcraft?
I hurried upstairs, pulling at my collar and undoing three buttons before I slumped onto my bed. The clock chimed midnight from the corridor, its faint rings deafening against the silence. Happy birthday to me.
***
Music erupted from the ballroom. I picked a piece of lint from my waistcoat and inhaled deeply. “Brother.”
Corbin had surprisingly made an effort for tonight.
“It goes without saying, but you will have no liquor tonight. Half the town is coming, and the priests will be in attendance.”
“I’ll behave.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “I’m grateful you’re coming.”
He grinned. “I wanted to celebrate your birthday; besides, I may have my own selfish reasons for attending.”
“What would those be?”
He pushed back his dark hair. “More like a who.”
“Someone from school?”
“Yes.” He fiddled with his bow tie. I clicked my tongue, leaned down, and fixed it for him. “Thanks.”
