The Witches’ Bane
by Edward Ahern
Chapter 15: The House Call
The inquisitors of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries had had it made. They could bully, interrogate, and occasionally torture witnesses until the witches were discovered, all with official sanction. The inquisitors also had papal blessing to torture the witches themselves. But everything Gordon was about to do was an indictable offense if he succeeded, and a deadly mistake if he failed.
He put on a heavy canvas shirt over the shirt he was already wearing, then packed his pockets with tools and materials. He pulled on a painter’s head cover then surgical gloves and, on top of those, heavy leather work gloves. Gordon felt like a kid forced to wear a bad costume on Halloween. He walked up to Maureen’s front door and knocked.
It took her several seconds to shuffle up to the other side of the door. “Who’s there?”
The old ploys were still the best. “UPS. I’ve got a parcel you have to sign for.”
There was the briefest of pauses and the door swung open about four inches so Maureen could peek out. Gordon kicked in the door, knocking her backward into the room. As he jumped through the doorway, Maureen kept backing away while still facing him, her arms beginning to move in a spell cast, Latin beginning to spew from her mouth. Gordon jumped again and hit her with a straight karate punch, knocking her down and out.
A big calico tomcat yowled and leapt at Gordon from an adjacent table, sinking claws and teeth into his canvas shirt. Gordon yanked it off his arm with his right hand. Ignoring the attempted scratches and bites, he grabbed the cat’s back with both hands and twisted until he cracked its spine. He tossed the heavy tom onto the floor and watched its spasmodic writhing until he was sure it would never jump again.
When she woke, Maureen was gagged and blinded with a torn sheet from her bed. The same sheet had been used to tie her into the chair at her computer desk. A tablet of paper and a pen were on the desk in front of her right arm, which had been left free to write.
“Maureen, I need answers to some questions. Write them down, please. Oh, and your familiar’s crippled. Take comfort in knowing that it tried to defend you.”
She strained at the bindings and tried to jump up, but she only dropped onto the floor, banging her head. Gordon righted her, and began speaking in a soft, pleasant voice.
“I don’t know your coven name, so I’ll make do with Maureen. You helped kill a fellow coven-mate...a woman I loved. You also probably helped kidnap a baby. It’s not my intention to kill or torture you, but I will have your truthful answers. Torture will come quickly if you remain silent or lie. I don’t have the luxury of time, so there won’t be the usual intervals of prayers and exhortations. Please accept that I’m indifferent to torturing you, and that I will have my answers.”
Gordon held up a slender syringe. “I’m holding a hypodermic that diabetics use to inject insulin subcutaneously. It’s loaded with a mixture of holy water and consecrated host. If you don’t respond properly, I’m going to inject it into your left eardrum, where it’ll corrode and fuse the bones of your inner ear. Then I’ll inject the holy water into your right eyeball, blinding it. Then tongue, left eye, and right eardrum. If you haven’t been responsive, you’ll be a deaf, dumb, mute witch without a familiar. My guess is that your remaining coven-mates will have to kill you, but I won’t. If all that’s clear, let’s proceed.”
Gordon placed Maureen’s hand on the tablet and put the pen between her fingers. “I need the location of the baby and the names of the other members of the coven, especially the grand witch. Put a star next to her name.”
Maureen gargled spittily, and swept the pad and pen onto the floor.
Gordon sighed as he picked them up. “I think you need a demonstration. I’m going to inject a minute amount of the water into the right cheek of your ass. The skin, fat, and muscle in contact with the water will suppurate and rot, leaving a shallow crater which will ooze blood and lymph fluids for some days before it scars over. Unless you go to a nudist colony, the disfigurement will be our little secret.”
He carefully drew 1cc of holy water into the syringe. Maureen began skittering her chair around behind the desk, trying to avoid the injection. Gordon casually pushed her and the chair over onto the floor. She banged her head again and, when the haze lifted, she had already been injected. The pain tore through her buttock and then worsened, ripping down into the nerves in her right leg.
“Maureen, it’ll be a few minutes before you’re able to concentrate normally. Please just enjoy the experience while I tend to a little housekeeping.” Gordon spent five minutes cleaning up possible traces of his presence. He returned to her about a minute too late.
Copyright © 2018 by Edward Ahern
