The Inquisition

Ethan said, “Last year, you made a lovely witch, Brit. I enjoyed dancing at the church thoroughly.” Both were on the second floor of the Shelter and gazing out of the window to the street below. A neko in an angel outfit passed along with a demon wearing scarcely more than a halo. Raising an eyebrow, Ethan audibly exhaled. “I wish to stay in tonight.’ His fingers reached for her and he nodded back to their resting place even though the night was still early. She seemed surprised, but said nothing and followed him inside to their resting place.

Sitting in his chair, Ethan pulled Brit onto his lap before picking up the book on his desk. “You asked for a story, I believe. A Halloween story.”

Brit perked with interest turning to the book. “Oh yes, please,” she lisped before adding with a whisper, “A scary story.” Attempting to twist to look at the book, she rearranged herself in Ethan’s lap ready to hear the story and hoped the book held pictures.

He grinned at her interest in Halloween knowing she knew little of its history. “A scary story,” Ethan repeated. “And you promised it would not cause night terrors.” Brit nodded affirmatively as he watched. “Hmm. Well, very well.” Opening the book, he gave her a sideways glance and said, “This of course is not a fairy tale, Brit.” Seeing her look of surprise, he added, “This story is very real.” When her eyes widened suitably, he said, “It is called The Inquisition. I borrowed this book from the library’s collection – using my new library card.”

Ethan paused to reflect that he truly had a new library card written in red glitter crayon no less. With a shake of his head, he continued, “I selected this book because of your obvious interest in witches because witches among other things were focuses of inquisitions.” Brit had him pause due to several questions. He responded patiently ensuring she understood the purpose and key players in an inquisition.

“Now sometimes,” Ethan explained, “an inquisitor would be called to identify a witch. Those who were thought to cavort and interact with the devil were rounded up and brought before this man of God.”

“How would people know who was a witch?” asked Brit.

Ethan placed his hand to his mouth pressing slightly to suppress the grin. When he was quite sure he could maintain his serious expression, he said, “Sometimes, one could determine it by their dress. Such as a pointy hat like you wore last year on this night.”

Brit blinked and said, “Maybe the girl just wore it for Halloween. Like I did!”

With a half shrug, Ethan said, “Well, Brit. They would always give a reason such as that, but they could have worn anything. Why would they select such a garment knowing how it made them look?”

Brit said, “Because…Halloween. It’s all for witches and ghosts and vampires and…scary things….not that you are scary. But you can be scary if you want.” She blinked a few times before shaking her head not wishing to remember him that way.

“I am a vampire, baby. So I dress as one for Halloween, but you,” he almost cooed dragging his finger down her neck, “You dressed as a witch. Hmm?”

Brit squirmed and said, “But, Ethan. I…I’m not a witch.”

Sighing deeply, he closed the book and seemed lost in thought. “All witches say that. I think every one I knew back then would have said it.” He looked at her with feigned concern. “No matter. There are other ways to see if one is a witch.”

Brit seemed relieved, “Good.” His fingers still stroked her skin and he said nothing but seemed to watch her oddly, “Um…how?”

“Oh, quite simple really,” he said low. His fingers caressed her hair, “Witches often had red hair.” He let the comment hang in the air and he held her gaze. Her heartbeat picked up slightly and he said softly, “And often….green eyes.”

Brit swallowed hard and said, “But….I’m not a witch. I’m just me.”

This time, he simply watched her. His fingers traced her lips before caressing her bite marks. “Some bewitched their beloveds. And caused them to act in ways they had not before.” She tilted her head in confusion. “I’d never married…before you.”

“Because you love me!” she exclaimed. He said nothing. She turned an opened the book. Several pictures of witches before and after redemption could be found. “I’m not a witch, Ethan.” She peeked at him over the book. Her hand shook slightly as she flipped pages.

“Witches were often nervous when questioned. They seemed afraid in an interrogation.”

Brit squeaked seeing an image. “Yah….LOOK at what they did to witches!”

Closing the book, Ethan took it from her. “They have no reason to fear less they were witches Brit.” His voice was eerily calm. His fingers pointedly went to her hair, eyes, and bite marks. Looking down, he adjusted her wedding ring.

She watched him silently noticing his fingernails had lengthened. “Do witches always hang or get burned when they were found?” Her voice seemed stressed and breathy. Her heart beat had quickened a bit more.

Ethan’s eyes flashed crimson just for a moment and the mist sealed the door. “No, Brit. Sometimes they were drowned as well.” Opening his desk drawer, he retrieved his rosary. “Have you something you need to confess?” His voice was still strangely quiet.

“I….I’m not a witch!” She squirmed watching his fingers adjust his rosary. She repeated her words with a hint of a pout as she felt helpless.

It was all Ethan could do to keep from giggling, but he said, “I never said you were a witch, Brit. But sometimes, witches will try to use sympathy to cloud the fact they were a witch.” She swallowed hard and blinked at him not knowing what to say. Her heart was racing. “Are you quite sure….you have not something you wish to say?” he asked again.

“No!” She gasped and took a big breath suddenly wanting to get fresh air.

Ethan said calmly, “Tempers. Witches were notorious for displaying a flash of temper.”

Brit slipped from his lap and started to say something and blinked. Then she started to say something again, and puffed her cheeks. Ethan reached for his rosary and let it dangle from his fingertips without taking his eyes off of her. “I’m not a witch,” she told him again.

Ethan arched his eyebrow and reached for the book. Opening it, he read silently for several moments while Brit stood there and squirmed. “It says here,” he said with his fingers tapping the page, “that witches have distinguishing marks up on their body. Since you seem so adamantly wishing to prove to me you are not a witch, we shall take a look.” With a motion, he said, “You will need to remove your clothing. After all, a proper witch would likely hide enchantments in them.”

Later, Ethan declared Brit innocent of witchcraft. She lisped sleepily, “I told you that I was not a witch.”

Chuckling, he replied, “Brit. I never thought you were a witch.”

Sitting up quickly, she gasped, “You made me think so! You…you…you scared me!”

Pulling her to him, he gave her a sweet kiss. “You asked me for a scary story. Your mind did the rest.”

Happy Halloween!