Page 10 of Witch
“Yes, sir,” nodded Gaspar, looking at his siblings. He swallowed, his eyes welling with tears. He wasn’t sure why. They would be there for him, just like the other ghosts. But the reality was, his parents were now ghosts. Just as they were about to take their seats, a lone man entered the church and slowly walked down the aisle.
“I believe our witch-hunter has arrived,” said Marie, whispering to her siblings.
“What gave it away? The massive crucifix at his neck or the one in his hand? He’s accusing her of witchcraft, not of being a vampire,” whispered Luc.
“I don’t believe I know you,” said Camille, stepping forward. “Did you know our parents?”
“No,” he said firmly.
“No? Then perhaps you knew Ruby, Sven, or Teddy?” she asked.
“No,” he said again.
“I don’t know who you are, mister, but if you speak that way to my sister again, I’ll show you how we treat funeral crashers down here,” said Alec, standing over the man.
He backed up with an audible gasp that had the room chuckling at his expense.
“You’re all evil,” he whispered. Father Doiron stepped forward, frowning at the man.
“Now, see here. You will not speak ill of the dead in this house, and you definitely will not speak ill of these fine people. They have served this church, this community, and its people for more years than you’ve been alive.”
“That’s my point! They are witches!”
“They are dead,” growled Trak, gripping the man’s arm. “If you open your mouth one more time, I will cut out your tongue and bury it with them.”
“Y-you can’t touch me,” he stammered, gripping the crucifix. “They are not dead.”
“Are you a doctor?” asked Wilson. “We have several here that can attest to the fact that they are dead. Perhaps you’d like to feel for a pulse or place a mirror beneath their noses. Would that pacify you?”
He looked around at the angry faces but didn’t back down. Nodding, he dug a small hand mirror from his pocket and walked up to the caskets. One by one he stuck the mirror beneath their noses, muttering as he did.
He felt for pulses, cursing as he did. When he reached to touch the body of Irene, Gabe had seen enough.
“You touch my mother, and I will have you arrested for desecrating a dead body,” he said calmly.
“I am not desecrating anything! This is a trick. It’s all a trick. They are alive! I just know they are alive.” As he finished his sentence, three New Orleans police officers walked into the church, and Nine nodded in the direction of the caskets.
“Is there a problem, Father?” they asked the priest.
“This man seems intent on proving these poor people are not dead. I have five bodies. All passed from this earth, and he is preventing me from completing the service.”
“Sir, do you have a problem with dead bodies?” asked the officer.
“They are not dead! You’re all fools!”
“Now look here. Maybe in your part of the country, you can call people fools without just cause, but down here, we see that as cause to shoot a man.”
“How dare you! I’ll file charges,” he snapped.
“Well, now, you have the right to do that, and I have the right to arrest you as a guest of the New Orleans Parish Prison,” he said, taking the man’s arm. “Gaspar, Miller, folks, we’re terribly sorry for your losses. Your folks, Miss Ruby, all of ‘em were fine people. The best this world had to offer. We were lucky to have them so long. I guess your mama didn’t listen when we told her last time not to be drivin’ at her age.” He gave a wink, and Gaspar chuckled, winking back.
“Let’s go, mister…”
“Hopkins. My name is Marcus Hopkins, and I am a world-famous witch-hunter,” he stated firmly.
“You are a world-famous nutcase,” smirked one of the other officers. “Let’s go. We got a bunch of ghosts you can rid of us at the jail.”
“I don’t hunt ghosts! They’re not real. I hunt witches.”
