Page 8 of Beneath Hoof and Hollow
Here in the darkness, beneath the weight of Leed’s body, my thoughts are nothing but questions, spinning. How did this happen? Why didn’t I do something to stop it? What am I going to do now?
We’re out of eggs. It feels so trite. Shopping for groceries like it’s a normal day would be laughable if it weren’t so tragic. One of my closest friends was tortured and hanged mere hours ago. And with the news of our town’s new religious savior still fresh on everyone’s minds, the air is alight with excitement.
A crowd has formed in the town square when I finish at the market. Voices boom from the group of ten or so men gathered on the platform.
“Open your eyes. What happened last night was the devil’s work.” I recognize Alesia’s cousin, Elijah. “Alesia was no witch. She was innocent. Reverend Statton murdered her. He must pay for what he’s done!”
The other men on the platform repeat his words.
“Innocent!”
“Murderer!”
“Hang him for his crime!”
Their remarks grow quiet as Reverend Statton himself approaches. The crowd parts for him. An unnatural silence falls over the town square.
The men’s bravado evaporates as he ascends the platform. They take anxious steps back. Can they sense the thing inside him? The demon Alesia spoke of? His so-called “angel”?
Reverend Statton turns his back on them, addressing the larger crowd that has gathered. “Temptation can worm its way into the hearts of even the most faithful, leading them like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, away from the safety of the flock. Who in my flock will help to keep the others safe?”
Murmurs ripple through the group.
“Itrimort calls you forward. All who are loyal to their faith. Arrest these men. Lock them away so they may pray in solitude until the path back to the flock is illuminated to them once more. In Itrimort’s name!”
“In Itrimort’s name!” many call back. Men rush the stage, subduing the protesters. They’re rough as the group is disbanded and dragged from the platform. Those around me cheer, praising Itrimort as the newly imprisoned men pass.
A hand wraps around my wrist. I duck my head down to find Mary. Her face is pale and frightened. Was that her husband I saw on the platform?
Mary’s voice is a whisper as she grips my wrist so hard, my bones protest. “Return home. Stay out of sight. Meet us at Anna’s when nightfall comes. We must do something.”
She releases me, then disappears into the throng of bodies shoving away from the town square and toward the prison.
Look at them all. Mindlessly following to watch those men get locked up. And for what? Calling out the crimes of Reverend Statton? Advocating for the innocent woman whose life was stolen?
A new pattern isemerging. Those who speak out against Reverend Statton will suffer for it. Am I willing to risk being caught to do what is right?
My gaze is fixed to the window as I knit, my fingers working from pure muscle memory as my thoughts are consumed by the uncertainty of what this eve will hold. The sunset seems slower this evening than usual. When the last of its golden rays vanishes, I wrap up in my shawl and head for the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Leed’s voice startles me. I turn, finding him leaned against our bedroom doorway. I thought he had fallen asleep while reading.
“I’m just off to spend a bit of time with the girls.”
Leed’s gaze presses in around me. “At this hour? Who?”
“You would question my visitations?”
His stoic stare triggers unease in me. He waits in heavy silence, forcing me to speak again.
“Several friends are meeting up to support one another during this tragic time. We need not mourn Alesia’s death in isolation.”
“She was a witch, Emeline. She need not be mourned at all.”
My jaw clenches. “Even if that were true, it wouldn’t erase the ache of loss many of us feel from watching the death of one of our closest friends.”
Leed strides toward me and I sink in on myself. He buries his fingers in my hair. Fisting my curls, he tugs at the roots. I tilt my head back, working to relieve some of the pressure from my scalp. Leed takes it as an invitation to kiss me and sinks his lips against mine. The gesture is far from intimate.
“I cannot allow you to leave our home unchaperoned. And since I am needed to assist the Lamb’s Golden Light this evening, I will not be able watch you myself. You must stay here.” He gently dots a kiss on my nose.
