Page 43 of Witch
“We’re men,” said Antoine, “so we would be warlocks. But whatever.”
“You think this is funny? Your mother and sisters have tainted this world long enough.”
“Enough with your bullshit, upper-crust, slightly English, but not really accent,” said Miller. “We all know you’re from upstate New York. You know, the place where you murdered all those women.”
“Wh-what are you talking about,” he stammered, attempting to back up, but meeting with a line of brick walls. “I-I didn’t murder anyone. I rid the world of evil, devil-worshiping women.”
“You murdered them,” said Baptiste.
“You can’t prove it!”
“We can,” said Astrid, appearing before them all. She couldn’t wait any longer, and neither could the other women. They all appeared, all of them. Including his parents.
“No. No, this is a magic trick. This can’t be real,” he said, gripping the sides of his head.
“It’s no magic trick. You murdered us,” said Norine.
“All of us,” said Rachel.
Suddenly, his parents moved toward him, the anger on his father’s face making him shrink, holding his hands in front of his face.
“I’m so ashamed of you,” he said quietly. “You abused our home, you abused these women, you did everything we told you not to do. We asked that you not continue to research your ancestor, and yet you did.”
“Yes! Yes, I did! I had to. He was calling to me. He told me where to find his inquisition tools, the-the questioning tools.”
“Questioning tools?” whispered his mother. “They were torturous devices. You tortured these poor young women. They aren’t witches. There is no such thing.”
“There are! Their mother was a witch,” he said, pointing at the Robicheaux brothers.
“You’re right about that,” said Irene, appearing before him. She slapped his face, something uncharacteristic of Irene. When he reached to slap her back, his hands passed through her image.
“This isn’t real. I’m dreaming. This isn’t real,” he said, shaking his head.
“It’s real. I am a green witch. You know what that means? It means I got a darn good green thumb. I can grow things, lots of things. I can turn them into food, perfume, medicine, whatever is needed. That’s what it means. I don’t have a broomstick that I fly around on. I don’t own frogs that I call my own. I don’t make people sick, although I expect right about now you want to lose that roast beef po’boy.”
“How, how did you know what I had for lunch?”
“I’m a ghost, you foolish man,” she said, laughing. Matthew stepped forward with Ruby and Sven, Teddy standing among the women staring at the man.
“You have gone against every teaching of your parents, your schools, and your church. You murdered for your own pleasure. No other reason,” he said calmly.
“Alright. Fine. I killed them because it felt good,” he said with a sneer. “I felt powerful in those moments. Forcing them to take what I dished out. Forcing them to admit what they are, what they do. It takes power to do that!”
“No, it’s an act of cowardice,” said Gaspar. “You thought to kill my sisters, and that will never happen. You will never see the light of day again.”
“You’re going to kill me?” he said, suddenly fearful.
“No. They are,” said Alec, pointing to the spirits. Marcus laughed, shaking his head.
“Spirits cannot kill. They’re just g-ghosts,” he stammered.
“Then why are you so afraid of us?” asked Finarie. “Why do you fear our very images? Because you remember what you did to each of us. The burning, the poking, the stretching, the broken bones. You remember, and you’re afraid that we will do the same.”
“No,” he whispered. “You don’t have the power.”
“They do,” said Matthew. “This night, each woman will deliver to you the torture you delivered to her. You will die a dozen deaths this night, and when they are satisfied, your body will be sent to a watery grave. No one will mourn your loss. No one will worry about your soul.”
He stared at the room, seeing the anger in the ghostly faces. Finally, he turned to his parents.
