Season of the Witch

Link to article: Season of the Witch.

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[[include component:preview
text=‘Look, marshal, I don’ wanna start throwin’ accusations around ‘bout my neighbors. All I know is somethin’ is goin’ on in this town and I’m ‘bout to pack up shop.’
]]
=====

It was my first time in the south-central region of the Appalachian Mountains, and the beauty immediately struck me as Marah, my horse and partner, guided me to our destination.

Rolling hills ran through the valleys and were flanked by tall mountains on either side. The Autumn season was on full display with the trees alight with colours of red, yellow, brown, even some purples. The air was crisp as the promise of the coming winter chill drifted along with that earthy scent that held a slight sweetness.

Soon, the scent of wood smoke wafted into my nose and I knew I was nearing the town of Floyd, Virginia. Once more, I fished out my orders from the Union Investigation Unit and read over the short telegram they sent me off with.

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[[=]]

++++ The Union Investigation Unit

**Assigned Agent:** Dale Everheart

**Case:** Confirmed witchcraft in Floyd, VA

**Name:** Unknown

**Class:** Thaumaturgist

**Abilities:** Unknown

**Orders:** Investigate rumours. Identify cause of witchcraft. Bring in the practitioner. **Dead or alive.**

[[/=]]

[[/div]]

With a long groan, I stuffed the barely useful scrap of paper into my pocket. ‘Gods, I’m gettin’ real fucking tired of the office not giving me more help on these damned cases…’ However, despite my annoyance, I wasn’t worried at my prospects with this case.

'It’s a damn good thing that I’ve a deft hand at investigatin’.'

—--

Usually, a town like this would be bustlin’ with folks preparing for the upcoming winter; but, as I rode down the main road, I found it near deserted.

Certainly, the stores were open, but those on the streets moved quickly with their heads down. Few met my eyes as I rode past, and fewer offered a greeting. Still, I knew I could find some folks I could question. There were always folks interested in talking any time some witchery was afoot.

It wasn’t long before I found my first talker in Reginald Nelson, owner of the general store. He was a burly man with a bald pate and a shrewd demeanor who didn’t even want to talk until I bought some supplies, then he loosened up a little. However, Reggie was still a man of few words and simply confirmed that there had been some witchery afoot, but didn’t want to say much more.

A light sigh passed his lips as folded his arms over his chest and met my eyes with a tired gaze. ‘Look, marshal, I don’ wanna start throwin’ accusations around ‘bout my neighbors. All I know is somethin’ is goin’ on in this town and I’m ‘bout to pack up shop if it ain’t figured out soon.’

I simply nodded and jotted down a few notes. ‘A little more information could be useful, but I can certainly understand that, friend. Rumours rarely ever do any good and just muddy up my investigations. I’ll take my leave, then.’

Just before I reached the door, Reginald came hurrying up to catch me. He held out a small box of revolver rounds and met my eyes with a hint of pleading in those amber orbs. ‘On the house, as long as you promise to rid us of this menace.’

A small smile lit my face when I took the box of bullets and nodded. '‘Course I will, Reginald. This won’t be the first time I’ve tangled with this kinda witchery.’

A look of relief crossed his features before he returned to the counter while I slipped out the door back onto the barren street.

—--

‘So there’s a witch’ round here, yeah...?’

‘Damn right! Our crops wither, the well‘s gone foul, and sickness is rampant in the town!’

I nodded as I retrieved my notepad and motioned for him to continue. ‘Got it. Now, where do you believe this witch lives?’

David Ryans was a rather animated man in his early-twenties and gestured wildly in his hurry to tell me anything and everything that came to his mind. Those green eyes flashed with consternation with each new question.

‘Out in the forest somewhere! But I ain’t goin' lookin’, I ain’t a damn fool like Samuel!’

‘Samuel?’ I questioned with a curious eye.

‘One of the town’s best trappers. Well…was one of the best. Said he thought she had a hovel ‘round by Devils’ Ridge.' Just mentioning the location caused David to shiver and perform the sign of the Cross. A rather common sight in my investigations, but I haven’t seen it help anyone so far.

After noting the location, I motioned for him to continue. ‘So I take it Samuel hasn’t returned?’

David paused with a pained look across his face before slowly shaking his head. ‘No, marshal… Ain’t nobody seen him since he went charging off with his rifle, screaming and swearing to the Lord that he’d put a hole in her heart… And ever since, poor Gertrude’s been swallowed by darkness. Just spends her days drinkin' and nights wailing in pain.’ His tone then fell to a soft hush, nearly a whisper. ‘That monster in the forest did something to her, marshal. It cursed her…’ That pained expression grew deeper as he performed the sign of the Cross once more. ‘She lost her child, marshal. She’s been deep in the drink ever since.’

Despite the change in his demeanor, I pressed him a bit harder on that one. ‘Where do you think I can find Gertrude? I’d like to ask her a few questions as well.’

His eyes slid from me to look over my shoulder and he pointed out a small building not too far from us. ‘There, at Meri’s bar. I don’t know how much you’ll get outta her, though.’

I flipped my notebook closed and tipped my hat lightly. ‘Thank ye, David. I promise I won’t press her too hard. You’ve been a big help.’

He’d call after me as I turned to leave. ‘Hope ya find that monster, marshal! And come back in one piece!’

Marah gave a snort of annoyance at David’s words as he trotted beside me. With a chuckle, I patted his side. ‘Don’t worry, pal. He doesn’t know I got the best back-up in the Unit.’ He’d agree with a toss of his head as we stepped up to the bar. I gave him another pat and affectionate rub of his muzzle as I left him at the water trough and stepped into the bar.

-----

My eyes slowly scanned across the small tavern as I stepped inside and noted a couple men sat at a table on one end, heads down in some quiet, terse conversation. On the other end sat a woman I pegged as Gertrude. A half full bottle of wine sat at the center of the table--probably elderberry when you consider the region. She was silent as she stared down at her glass, eyes distant and far away while she took a sip every now and then. Her auburn hair was disheveled and the heavy bags under her eyes made it clear she had barely slept in days.

For now, I let her be while I opted to simply saddle up to the bar and flag down the woman cleaning the bar top. ‘Mind if I can trouble you for a drink, ma‘am? Whiskey would be fantastic.’

She gave me a nod and quickly fixed me up two fingers while keeping a worried eye on Gertrude. As she worked, I brought up a curious tone and questioned 'That woman in the corner alright? She looks like she's seen the mouth of Hell itself.'

‘Don’ ya mind Gerty, stranger. She’s had a rough time of it lately. She was with child a week ago and it…’ Grief passed over Meri’s face as she shook her head slowly. ‘She lost it.’

I took a moment to raise the drink and sip heavily before following up with, ‘The witch?’

She gave me a long look before nodding slowly. ‘Aye...’

My hands fished around inside my coat and produced my notepad and badge, the latter of which I set on the counter between us. ‘Dale Everheart. Marshal Dale Everheart. I got sent out here to investigate for you all.’

A look of relief crossed her face as she rested a hand on her chest and sighed softly. ‘Y’all have been gettin ‘our messages! I've been prayin' every day that someone is sent out here to help us! Well, I’m Maribeth Lou; what can I do for ya?’

‘Just wanna investigate a bit before I go try to root her out. Question folks, see what lines up, all that. Now what makes you believe in this witch, other than what happened to Gertrude?’

‘Well...’ Maribeth considered her words for a few moments as I sipped at my whiskey. ‘It started with our cows. Milk started comin’ out sour, and not long after, a few just keeled over. From perfectly healthy to dead in just a week. Then one of our wells fouled. Clear water one day, the next it’s brackish an’ black. People have been comin’ down with some sickness the doctor ain’ ever seen. Fever, boils, vomitin’ blood, and wild rantin’ ‘bout a demon in the town. Reminds me of the stories my grandpappy would tell us of the old country and the monsters that ran around in the Black Forest.' A look of sorrow passed her face as she looked over to the corner. 'Then, of course, Gerty…’

That look only deepened as Maribeth leaned closer and lowered her voice. ‘She’s Samuel’s wife. The two were expectin’ a child. I was so excited for my friend's new babe! The doctor even said he would come out strong as an ox, but then...‘ A hand came to rest over her heart as she paused and took in a few deep breaths. ‘The poor babe came out... wrong. Twisted, screamin’ like a demon outta Perdition. Didn’t survive the night and drove Gertrude into a spell of darkness. Samuel said he knew where that witch was…’ That sorrowful look was cast over to Gertrude. ‘So he took off into the woods to track her down. He returned a few hours later, a wild look in his eyes as he rambled about having found her and needing more firepower. He ain’t been seen in four days now, and she’s been here since… I've been trying to comfort her, but the drink is the only thing she wants right now.’ She drifted off, sighed, and leveled a pleading look at me. ‘Marshal, please get some justice for her and put an end to our misery.’

I took a moment to knock back the rest of my whiskey and nodded resolutely. ‘I’ll do everything I can, ma’am. I’ve tangled with witchy folks before and can tell ya a bullet to the heart takes care of them just fine.‘

She let out a soft sigh and tried to smile. ‘You would be our hero, sir... I wish you all the strength our kind Lord can offer. ‘

With that, I tipped my hat, slid out of my seat, and headed over to the corner where Gertrude was slowly drowning her sorrows. ‘You Gertrude?’

The haunted woman looked at me and nodded ‘Yes, that would be me. What d'ya want, stranger?’

Once more, I set my badge down as I took up an empty seat across from her. ‘I'm marshal Dale Everheart, ma’am. I hear y’all got some issues round here. Something about a- ‘

'Witch.' Her deep emerald eyes offered a simple glance at my badge before she focused on her wine again. After a few moments, tears began forming in the corners of her eyes as she slowly nodded. ‘Yes, marshal. That... that damn bitch took my son an’ now my husband.’

I nodded and retrieved my notebook. ‘Heard yer husband found her out at Devil’s Ridge, right? He say anything about gettin’ a look at her?’

She sneered and knocked back her wine before continuing. ‘He said he saw’er standin’ over a cauldron, speakin’ some kinda devil tongue. Got no good look at ‘er, though. Shadows was dancin’ everywhere. She said she was sad to hear ‘bout our son.’ At that, her somber mood shifted as she slammed her hand on the table and roared. ‘That bitch said he would'a made a fine demon! She did it, marshal! She cursed him and took him from me!’ Gertrude broke at that and wracking sobs interspersed her words. ‘She took my boy... She took my husban’... Sh-She took everything from me, marshal.’

I nodded solemnly as I jotted down a few notes. ‘I understand, Gertrude. I’ve lost some of my own to bastards like this.’ A hard look passed my features as I looked the poor woman in the eye. ‘It’s one of the reasons I hunt these monsters. Now, can you tell me what else Samuel heard?’

It took her a few moments to compose herself, but she continued. ‘She said it didn’t matter. She’s comin’ fer alla us. Somethin’ about a Crimson Demon and proper sacrifices. Said my boy was a good start, but she would take us all wit’ time...’

Fear danced in her eyes as she leaned over, took my hand, and gripped it tightly. ‘She won’ stop, marshal. She wants us all for her twice-damned master. She’s preparin’ something. Something foul. You gotta stop her. Got to save us. //Please//.’

My other hand came to rest over hers and patted it reassuringly. ‘I’ll bring her in, Gertrude. Alive or dead.’ That hard look held in my eyes held as I added, ‘Probably dead.’

With that, she pulled her hand away and collapsed into her chair, and herself. In a weak salute, she raised her wine. ‘May the good Lord protect you. Or the gods of my ancestors. Anyone, it don’ matter. I just need justice for my boy an’ husban’.’

With that, I tipped my hat in thanks, made my way back to Maribeth, fished a five-dollar bill outta my pocket, and set it between us. ‘For my drink, and her tab. Give'er some water next and convince her to slow down, though. The poor woman needs some comfort that ain’t booze.’

Maribeth nodded solemnly and took the money before fixing up a shot of whiskey and placing it before me. ‘For your nerves, marshal. And I’ll try to wrangle some sense into her, I swear to ya.’

With a small smile, I took the shot and saluted her as I went to knock it back. But I froze when the loud, frightened whiney of a horse reached my ears.

My horse.

‘Marah...’

The shot fell from my hands and shattered on the floor as I stampeded to the door. Screams of terror came from outside and someone cried out ‘THE WITCH!’

I barrelled through the door just in time to see a robed figure with a deep hood riding Marah into the woods. An eerie glow emanated from Marah's eyes, and I knew that he was under some kinda evil spell as the witch loosed a mad cackle as she fled. I went to follow, but townsfolk had flooded out into the street, blocking my path.

As quick as a rattlesnake's strike, I pulled out my revolver and sent a shot into the air. ‘MAKE A DAMN HOLE!’ The crowd parted immediately, and I dove into the woods, chasing after the witch to meet her at Devil’s Ridge.

—--

Tracking was never a specialty of mine, but it wasn’t that hard to follow Marah’s trail. Despite the witchery she had put him under, the witch didn't even take care to try and keep her tracks covered.

His hooves had stamped in fresh mud to leave tracks, his sides ran up against briars to leave hair in their brambles, and he broke nearly every damn twig along the way. A small part of me wondered if she had been careless on purpose, but the fear of losing my partner and best friend urged me on as I ran.

As I ran, memories of all the times that Marah had saved me danced in my mind. That night a pack of wolves surrounded our camp, and Marah chased them off by stamping their leader to death. The time we had hunted down a raging nature spirit and I learned just how special Marah was as he calmed the spirit by neighing and snorting in tones I had never heard from him. Him showing me the meaning of speed as we outran a snarling werewolf while I squeezed off round after round into the beast.

I didn’t know much about this witch and what she could do, but it didn’t matter. I’d give my own damn life if it meant that stubborn bastard got to live to see old age.

The trail finally ended in a large clearing that butted up against the hill along Devil's Ridge. I immediately knew how the place had gotten its name as the moon hung just above a large set of rocks with two spikes jutting outta the top. In the shadows of the full moon, I could swear the face of Old Scratch himself was glaring down at me.

The elements had carved a small cave into the rock, offering a small shelter to the witch and her dark dealings. In front of her makeshift home, she had a cauldron bubbling with some foul concoction. Marah stood next to a large oak tree with his eyes returned to normal, but glowing green chains twisted around his neck, which held tight as he thrashed against them.

‘Oh, do calm down, you beast. This won’t take very long,’ the witch chided him as she stood over the cauldron and threw a few ingredients in. A large plume of red smoke rose while she returned to chanting in that devil’s tongue Gertrude mentioned.

I took every precaution to keep silent as I moved around the perimeter towards Marah. I was aware of every fallen twig in my path, any leaves from the bushes I might brush up against, and if my shadow might give me away. Not that it mattered.

In an almost amused tone, the witch spoke up again. ‘Hello, marshal. I wondered when you would join us.’ How she knew I was there, I couldn’t guess, but I had been made.

With a light sigh, I rose and stepped out of the bushes. My revolver was in my hand and the heavy //click// of the hammer being pulled back echoed around the clearing.

‘I have orders to take you in, witch, alive or dead... Your choice. ‘

She cackled loudly and threw her head back, tossing the hood off and revealing a surprise for me. The witch was a man, but the dancing shadows of the fire obscured his features.

With a snap of his fingers, chains erupted from the ground and wrapped around my arms. I got a single shot off, but it went wide and missed by a mile. The chains yanked my arms behind me and down, knocking the gun from my hand and forcing me to kneel before him.

He glanced at me sideways with a wild grin and I quickly realized who he was.

Samuel, Gertrude’s husband, who had supposedly run into the woods to kill the witch.

My eyes burned with rage and hatred as I struggled against the chains, but found that they only grew tighter. Still, I screamed my fury at him. ‘You weren’t huntin’ shit, you rotten bastard. You’ve been doing all this! **WHY?!**’

He turned fully towards me and glared with a wicked look in his eyes as he replied in a tone that reminded me of how my school teacher treated me like an idiot. ‘Why? Because it is necessary. Those fools in that town could never understand the secrets I’ve discovered. The power of blood and sacrifice. This book...’ In his hands, he held a battered tome. Just looking at it made my hair stand on end. ‘This book has taught me so much. I see the world so clearly now. The War has spread so much pain over these lands and soaked them deep in the blood of our countrymen. There’s so much //power// there, marshal.’ Samuel swept his arms to the sky and cackled loudly as he reveled in the false strength the book gave him. ‘Power that one can tap into if they just have the strength of will and the know-how! But power doesn’t come from nothing. My lord demands sacrifice, and I am a dutiful servant.

‘I had hoped my child would assist, but Gertrude’s womb was weak! The bitch couldn’t provide me a damn thing, not even a sturdy child!’ A wicked sneer crossed his face as he spat on the ground, as if simply mentioning his wife brought poison to his mouth. ‘But there are others who can assist me...’

‘Others like you, marshal... You have brought me something quite useful.’ He looked over his shoulder at Marah and stared at him with wonder. ‘He’s no simple beast... There’s strong magicks in him.’ His head snapped back at an almost unnatural speed to meet my eyes again. ‘And in you. The blood of both of you will suffice for my ends.’

Samuel set the cursed book on a stool next to the cauldron and took up a small bowl he handled as if he were a priest in a church. His other hand retrieved something from within his robes, and a glint of moonlight winked from it, reflecting the blade of a wickedly curved dagger. ‘You first, marshal,’ he hissed as he slowly stalked over to me.

My hands wrenched against the chains, and I poured all my strength into my struggle. But the ghostly chains held strong and cut deeper into my arms in return. When he finally reached me, I met his hazel eyes, glared up, and growled deeply, ‘You better fuckin’ kill me. Because once I get outta this, I’m gonna strangle the life outta ya!’

He cackled again as he lunged forward and pressed the blade to my throat. The sharp metal pressed cold against my neck when he suddenly stopped short. ‘Kill you? Eventually, yes, but my King demands sacrifice, blood, //and suffering//. You get to watch your dear companion’s blood spill like a torrent and witness the life drain from its eyes before I send you to Him.’

Samuel slowly slid the blade away from my throat and began chanting softly in that devil tongue. The blade took on a now-familiar green glow and slid away from my throat. The keen edge of the blade then dug into my left palm, drawing blood and flowing into the waiting bowl. With a deep groan of pain, I wrenched my head to the side and watched with growing morbidity as the crimson liquid dripped into that waiting bowl.

‘By my blood, I swear I will kill you,’ I growled into his ear before he took his fill and rose. It was faint, but with that promise, I felt something radiating through me. And for a few moments, Samuel simply stared at me as if he were seeing something I could not. But, still, he quickly recovered and returned to his cauldron.

With reverence, he held up the bowl of blood and loudly spoke, ‘I offer the blood of a rider who wields great strength and conviction. One who stands against my King,’ then poured my blood into the cauldron.
A plume of crimson smoke rose from the bubbling concoction, and I swear by the gods I heard a rumbling laugh echo around the clearing. It set my teeth on edge as dread filled my mind.

Samuel’s attention then turned to Marah, and he leisurely made his way over to my partner. With each step, both Marah and I fought harder against our restraints; but the enchanted chains held.

He stood before Marah with the bowl and knife in hand. ‘A trusted Steed of great wisdom and power,’ he spoke loudly and held the bowl above his head. The ceremonial knife began radiating that same sickening green light, which brought terror to Marah’s eyes and a scream from his throat. ‘SILENCE,’ Samuel screamed in return, causing the chain around Marah’s muzzle to tighten and pull his head back to expose his neck.

That scream energized me, though, and I answered with a scream of my own as Samuel brought the blade to Marah’s throat.

‘I’LL FUCKIN’ KILL YOU!‘

Rage flowed through me and, ‘though I barely understood how, it gave me strength against the witchery holding me down. The academics at the Unit would later tell me that magic can be strengthened by powerful emotions and the spilling of blood. Turns out some people can tap into that well of power without even meaning to. And I’m one of them.

My muscles screamed in agony as I pulled against my bonds. A growing sense of defiance and desire to protect my friend filled me, and my mind burned as I fought the enchantments.

Then they broke.

And rage overtook me.

Samuel was stunned I had broken the spell, and that was all the window I needed. In an instant, I was on my feet. In another, I was charging across the clearing. A few more and I tackled him to the ground next to the cauldron. The knife flew from his hand, leaving him defenseless once I pinned him down.

We were so close to the flames that his hair immediately caught fire, but I continued to straddle him, shoving him deeper into the coals. A scream of pure agony poured from his throat once his skin began to bubble and melt. He kicked and thrashed underneath me, doing everything he could to throw me off. But I held him tight.

The skin of his head glowed a bright red as it swelled and peeled. My hand wasn't spared as it also began to burn and scream in pain. Blisters formed across our skin, quickly popped, and poured puss into the coals with a sickening sizzle rising up. The burns continued to worsen once the swelling subsided; the skin shriveled up and appeared desiccated.

‘MARSHAL, PLEASE! LET ME GO, I SWEAR I’LL FORSAKE MY LORD! JUST LET ME LIVE!’ He continued to fight and beg, but I glared down at him with unabandoned rage and held him firmly against the coals as the flames cackled about him.

Our flesh began to crack open, and the sizzling puss was joined with the blood pouring out across the coals. I didn't relent even when our skin blackened and broke away. It wasn't until all life had abandoned his wretched body and he had stopped kicking that I finally gave up my assault.

The hand I pulled out of the fire was unrecognizable. None of my fingers survived and had been charred black, with exposed bone shown at the tips of my fingers. I couldn’t feel any of it at first. But soon, the minor burns that ran up my forearm started screaming at me. In response, I stumbled through a simple healing magick to at least numb the pain. Hopefully, I'll be able to keep the rot from settling in until I can get back to a Union office. Even still, my heart sank once I realized it would never be whole again.

With the pain lessened, I simply sat next to that fire and stared at what I had just lost. The world simply shrank away as I could hear Samuel's screams echoing in my head, and I knew I'd never be able to chase them away.

I snapped out of my daze when I felt a nudge on my shoulder and heard a soft snort. With a sigh, I wrapped my good arm around Marah’s muzzle and stroked his nose. ‘It’s alright, buddy, you don’t need to apologize.’ My eyes turned back to my ruined hand. ‘You’re worth it, and would’ve done the same for me.’

He laid down beside me and rested his head on my lap while I continued stroking his neck with my good hand. We sat in silence for a long while as we watched the fire crackle and slowly burn down.

Once only glowing embers remained, I patted his neck a few times. ‘We should get going, pal.’ With that, he jumped up to his feet, with me soon following suit. I still had to bag up the body and took a few minutes to haul the corpse away from the fire, retrieve a tarp from Marah’s saddle, and roll Samuel up.

Something glinted in the moonlight from his hand, and I saw a simple wedding band winking up at me from the corpse's left hand. ‘Gertrude…’ I muttered as I thought about just who this man had been. She deserved to know, so I retrieved the ring and pocketed it.

Once the body was secured on Marah's back, I paused and looked back to the cauldron. Anger bubbled up in me again, and with a shout of rage, I kicked it over with all the strength I still had. The dark green contents spilled out across the ground and produced a plume of crimson smoke. Plants withered at the touch of the liquid, leaving a large swath of decay as it spread. I didn’t want to think about what it was meant to do and began to turn back to Marah before something caught my eye.

The book that Samuel had been boasting about sat on that stool and I stared at it for a few moments. The binding sent a shiver down my body as I swore to the gods it had been fashioned outta human flesh, then had been dyed a crimson color with what looked to be a grinning demon embroidered across the cover. I took a moment to retrieve one of Marah's saddlebags and gingerly slip it into the pack, being careful not to touch the damned tome. I didn't know what kinds of demonic magick it contained, but could feel the evil radiating off it.

With our unholy cargo loaded up, I muttered ‘Let’s get goin’ pal,’ swung up into the saddle, and gave him a grateful pat on the neck. As we traveled back, I kept muttering the healing magick over and over until the lesser burns had settled to a dull, throbbing ache. Still, my fingers were useless, the skin of my wrist was tight and leathery, and bright red burns ran halfway up my forearm.

It wasn’t long before we were slowly riding back into the town and were greeted by a thick crowd of townsfolk nervously waiting for our return. A raucous cheer rose from them as soon as they saw the body slung over Marah’s back. Then they hurled a barrage of questions at me when I slipped out of the saddle and guided Marah over to the stables with the crowd on our heels.

‘What was this monster trying to do, marshal?’

//‘Good Lord, man, what happened to your hand?!’//

‘Who was it? Was she one of us?’

I let the questions linger as I guided Marah to a stall, slipped the body off his back, and slung it over my shoulder.

‘Uhhh…marshal, what’re you doing with that?’

Finally, I spoke up and looked out at the small gathering. ‘This wretch was tryin’ to sacrifice folks to the gods damned demon they served. My hand is alright, no need for you all to worry. And I got no idea if this person was one of you. Unfortunately, their face was burned to be unrecognizable during our fight.’ After my rapid responses, I took a deep breath and shook my head. ‘I’m sorry I don’t have more information for y’all. I hope ya don’t mind us spending the night here?’

Meribeth was the one to speak for the gathered crowd as she stumbled out ‘O-Oh, yeah, of course! You’re a damn hero to all of us for putting an end to this madness!’

I nodded and slowly made my way through the hole in the crowd that opened up. ‘Well, I’m sure you don’t want this bitch’s body in town, right? I’m gonna carry it out over to that big oak tree down the road and leave it there for the night. Figure y’all would sleep better that way.’

They were silent for a few moments before Meribeth spoke up again. ‘You’re too kind to us, marshal. Protecting the town by taking down that hag, sacrificin’ your hand like that, and now your only thoughts are on our safety? Damn saint, you are.’

With a mirthless chuckle, I tipped my hat and passed by the crowd. ‘I ain’t no saint, miss. Gunslingers like me ain't got a proper place in Heaven. But I appreciate the kind words from y’all.’

—--

A bit later, I was standing before a massive oak tree and unceremoniously dropped the body at the base. For a few moments, I just stared down at the corpse until I broke.

‘YOU ROTTEN BASTARD!’ I suddenly cried out as I reeled back my leg and slammed my foot into the corpse's ribs. ‘YOU TERRORIZED THESE KIND PEOPLE, YOU KILLED YOUR SON TRYING TO TURN HIM INTO A MONSTER, YOU NEARLY TOOK MY BEST FRIEND, YOU TOOK MY FUCKING HAND! AND FOR WHAT?! SOME ROTTEN FUCKIN’ BASTARD GOD?!’ Again and again, I kicked him as hard as I could until I could hear ribs cracking under the assault.

Of course he didn’t move as life had long let his body, but it somewhat calmed me down to unleash my anger. With a heavy sigh, I turned to head back to town, but paused when I realized I wasn’t alone.

Gertrude stood a bit behind me, having been silent this whole time. I didn’t even realize she had been following me as I went.

‘It's him, ain’t it marshal…?’ I could tell the drink was still coursin' through her as she swayed slightly, but still closed the distance between us, and came to stand beside me. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she was shaking like a leaf. ‘It's my fool of a husban’ who done all this to us. Who poisoned our food, our water, m-my…’ Her voice fell to barely a whisper. ‘Poisoned my son… Sacrificed ‘im to that heathen god.’

I gently rested my good hand on Gertrude’s shoulder to offer some kinda comfort. After a few moments of quiet, I slowly fished the ring out from my pocket and held it up to her. ‘Aye… I don’t know what drove him to it, but he was trying to sacrifice everyone to some demon…’

She gingerly lifted the ring from my hand and gazed at it in silence. Then rage flowed through her and she screamed as she hurled the ring at the body. ‘YOU ROTTEN BASTARD! I TOL’ YA! I TOL’ YA THAT BOOK WAS THE WORK’A THE DEVIL!’

In a flash, she was next to the body and working it over just as I had. She kicked at the ribs, at the face, and at the groin. Cries of agony streamed from her that reminded me of a run in I had with an honest to gods banshee. It resonated in me and set my teeth on edge as I listened to her pained cries. But I didn’t try to stop her. She deserved to know. She deserved the meager offer of closure for the man who had taken her son from her.

With her righteous anger exhausted, she collapsed to the ground with her hands covering her eyes as she wailed and rocked back and forth. I stood in silence for a while as I let her process whatever she was feeling. Finally, I went to her side, knelt, and wrapped my long coat around her as much comfort as I could.

‘Come on, Gertrude, I’ll buy you some more drinks if you li-’

The anger and pain seemed to have sobered her up rather quickly as she shook her head slowly. ‘No, marshal. No more drink. It’s what he woulda wanted. Keepin' me a rotten mess like this so I could be in even more pain. He was a piece of shit even before all this witchcraft, and he’s a piece of shit in death.’ She rose on shaky legs and I offered an arm to stabilize her as I led her back to town.

After we walked for a good while in silence, I softly spoke up to offer some more meager comfort. ‘I found that book you mentioned. It's safely stowed away and will leave with me.’

Through the tears, she choked out a soft ‘That is a comfort, marshal. Please, take is far away from all of us…and destroy it.’

I nodded resolutely as the town came into view. ‘I’ll bring it to others who know such things far better than me. They’ll know what to do with it. Now, let's get you home.’

As we walked into town I saw that the crowd had dispersed since we had left and was incredibly grateful for it. Better that they don’t see me walking with Gertrude and start gossiping about the witch’s identity.

I helped Gertrude to her home, settled her in her bed, and muttered a small bit of witchery that would give her at least one night of fitless rest. As I crossed through the living room, I spotted a crib in the corner that would never be used and cursed Samuel’s name once again before pushing out into the night and heading to the small inn to bed for the night.

—--

I laid on the bed to rest, but stared at my ruined hand in the candlelight. My fingers could barely move, but I focused on them and tried muttering a few more bits of witchery to attempt to return some use to them. I’ve never been one for spells, though, and it looked like the best I could do was get some limited movement back and keep the rot from setting into it. Hopefully, it would hold long enough for me to get back to the Office and prevent them from having to take the whole thing from me. Even still, I knew that it would never work properly again.

It was a heavy price to pay to bring that monster in. More important than that, though, it was a price that ensured Marah’s safety. If I thought about it that way, it didn’t seem like all that heavy a cost. I would gladly do it all over again to ensure my best friend’s safety.

With a light sigh, I leaned over to blow out the candle and laid my head back on the pillow. Despite my attempt to calm down and relax so I could sleep, something echoed in my head. Samuel's screams of pain and cries for mercy haunted me all night as I slept fitfully.

I knew I would never be able to escape what I had done. Those screams would haunt me for the rest of my life. They had good company, though. Samuel wasn't the only monster's death that was scarred into my very soul.

And I knew he wouldn't be the last.

Season of the Witch

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