“Forgive me, Your Grace,” I said. “I was contemplating theimplications of such widespread corruption. How does evil take root so deeply?”
“An excellent question,” the Bishop replied, though his bloodshot eyes remained suspicious. His foot twitched; his gout was likely flaring again. “Vicar Förner, perhaps you could enlighten us?”
Förner puffed up like a toad. “The Devil targets the weak—women, with their inherent susceptibility to temptation. Ever since Eve, they have been the gateway through which evil enters.”
The gateway. Yes, the gateway through which life enters our world. How they feared it. In all the stories and art I had ever seen of the Virgin Mother, none showed the truth, the bloody, real birth of our Lord. No, Mary was shown holding a perfect baby as if he had simply been prayed into existence.
These fools spoke of women as weak, but none of them would survive the gauntlet of birth. Oh, how they craved that power. They wanted it, so they hid behind their altars and holy words and called that gateway blasphemous, when in truth it was the closest they could come to Heaven on earth.
“And yet,” I observed, unable to help myself, “Christ chose to reveal himself first to women after his resurrection. Surely that suggests divine trust in their witness?”
Several priests shifted uncomfortably. Förner’s face reddened.
“The Devil quotes scripture for his purpose,” he sneered, the blood vessels in his temple bulging.
How right he was, though not in the way he meant. I could quote every verse about love, about mercy, about judgment being God’s alone, and I would use each one to lead Katharina deeper into beautiful blasphemy. She was already questioning, already choosing compassion over doctrine. Soon she’d choose pleasure over paradise, and I would be there to catch her as she fell.
“The arrests will continue,” the Bishop announced. “We have received intelligence about a network of witches operating from within our own churches. Even amongst those we trust.”
My attention sharpened. Of course they would come for her.The thought of anyone else touching her made something dark coil in my chest.Mine. She was mine now, marked by my touch. No man would take her from me.
“We must be vigilant,” the Bishop continued. “Watch for signs. Women who show too much independence, who question authority, that is as much a mark of the Devil as imperfections of the flesh.”
My brilliant, defiant dove—how they coveted her, especially Förner. How he wished to mark her as damned. If only he knew that her damnation was far sweeter than anything these withered men could imagine. That I’d teach her pleasures that would make her forget Heaven existed.
“Father Heinrich,” Förner said, addressing me again. “You’ve been…attentive to the Müller girl.”
The room held its breath.
“She assists with the chapel’s library,” I replied calmly. “I’ve been teaching her to read scripture, hoping a proper education might counter any…unfortunate influences from her childhood.”
“And has it?” Förner asked, his voice oily with insinuation.
“She’s proven herself devoted to her studies.” I let a small smile play at my lips, remembering how devotedly she’d responded to my touch, how eagerly she’d opened for me once she had abandoned her guilt. “Though she still struggles with complete submission to authority.”
A few priests chuckled, taking it as frustration with a willful student. They had no idea how much I enjoyed her struggles, how her willfulness was as sweet as her lips.
“She has been a valuable asset to the Church’s archival work.”
Förner’s mouth went flat, but the Bishop nodded. “Continue your work,” he said finally. “But remember—corruption often wears a beautiful face. The Devil himself was the most beautiful of angels.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” I bowed. “I remain ever vigilant against corruption.”
The meeting dragged on—more arrests planned, moreproperty to seize from the condemned, more ways to twist Christ’s message of love into an engine of terror. I sat through it all, patient as stone, while inside I seethed with the same rage I no longer tried to extinguish.
Is this what God’s Church had become? This mockery of justice? I had sworn my life to the Lord, promised to dedicate myself to showing his divine light to all. But I realized now that this Church was not an extension of his will. To devote oneself to this work was a life of sacrifice. These men didn’t even have that courage. They hid their sadism behind scripture, their greed behind grace.
When finally dismissed, I walked back to my chapel through streets that stank of death. I looked back at the soaring towers of the cathedral and saw only a monument to man’s hubris. They thought themselves holy while shutting out the very people they were meant to serve. My flock—I would always protect them. But only one was on my mind now.
I would teach her that pleasure wasn’t sin—sin was denying the body God himself had created. Sin was priests who burned women for their own fears. Sin was a church that preached love while destroying the lives in its grasp.
If she was damned, as she thought, then I would join her. Because what was Heaven without her by my side?
Chapter 13
Katharina
“God in Heaven,” I hissed as the knife cut through the pad of my finger. It was the second time I’d cut myself that morning collecting herbs from the garden. The work was normally enough to keep my mind from wandering, but not today. Not after…
