Page 24 of Witch
“Is this why our soil is so good? Why the pond is what it is?” asked Marie.
“It’s one of the many reasons,” she said.
Finally, Irene led the group to a secluded area where a plant with large, glossy leaves and vibrant orange flowers grew.
"This is the Corpse Flower," she said, her tone serious. "It's named for its pungent odor, which attracts pollinators like flies and beetles. Despite its smell, the Corpse Flower is important in the ecosystem by promoting biodiversity and improving soil health through its decomposing organic matter."
As the young women listened intently, Irene concluded.
"Each of these plants has its own unique qualities and benefits, not just for the garden, but for the environment as a whole. By understanding and appreciating these rare and unique plants, we can create a more sustainable and harmonious world."
“Mama Irene, I wish you’d shared all of this with me before,” said Rachel. “The things I’ve been working on to help sustain the property could have used some of this information and even some of the soil around these plants.”
“Like I said, it wasn’t time, and you were figuring things out for yourself,” she smiled.
The young women just nodded, continuing to ask questions as they walked, leaving Irene's garden inspired and eager to apply her wisdom. When they reached the grove, George and Mary were waiting with an afternoon tea service for a queen and her court.
“Grandma, what if we can’t do it? What if we can’t keep it all alive and thriving?” asked Violet.
“Nonsense!” she said, waving her hands in the air. “I’ll always be here to help you. Martha and Franklin as well. As long as a Robicheaux is here, blood or non-blood, this garden will thrive.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Bamberg, Germany – 1802
She could smell the scent of animal fat, oil cooking, and wondered why. Hanging by her wrists, tied to the beam above, her head was foggy, filled with visions she couldn’t comprehend.
“That’s it. Time to wake up, witch,” said the man’s voice.
“Wh-what?” she responded groggily.
“Wake up, witch!” he said. He dipped the paddle into the massive cooking pot and flung hot oil toward her bare legs. She screamed, and he laughed. It was pointless after all. They were deep within the forest, no one for miles and miles around.
He’d had the great pleasure of stripping the young witch, her voluptuous body using the devil to entice him. She’d been a cunning little whore, but he’d avoided soiling his body with hers. Oh, he’d used her body to relieve himself, but he didn’t dare enter her for fear of taking on the devil himself.
Even in her drug-induced sleep, she’d responded to his touch, moaning and writhing beneath him. Witch! She thought to fool him by pretending to be a virgin, but he knew it was a ruse. Using his paddle, he’d removed her barrier, knowing that it was only the devil working against him.
“Why do I hurt between my legs? Wh-why am I hanging from this rafter? Why are you doing this?” she asked innocently, the fog beginning to lift. She spied her dress and stockings on a chair and frowned, not remembering why they were there. She’d gone into the forest to fetch berries for her mother. They were going to make a pie today.
“You are a witch! A witch, and you have been found guilty of delivering the devil’s own messages to anyone who will listen.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No. I’m just a girl. A child. I only just had my thirteenth birthday last week.”
“Thirteen! The devil’s favorite number,” he mumbled, stirring the oil again.
“Please, please, I want my mother and father. I want to see my grandparents,” she begged in her native tongue.
She thought to be clever with him, but he knew how to speak many languages. The devil didn’t choose only English. He chose German, French, Haitian, Russian, any language he desired if he thought he could bend others to his will.
“It’s really quite simple. If you survive the oil, then I know you are a witch,” he said.
“You’re mad,” she whispered. “I cannot survive burning oil. No person could.”
“No person, but a witch can.”
“But I will be dead! You will have killed an innocent child,” said the young girl, screaming and writhing against the ropes.
His body reacted, watching her small, perfectly formed breasts move, the tuft of dark brown hair between her bloody thighs. She was doing it again. Tempting him!
