Smoke on the Water by Lori Handeland Page B

anyone a God complex. He also had a hard-on for witches that would not quit. Hence the Venatores Mali .
    James had kept the society a secret, not wanting to appear more backward to the English than they thought a Scottish king already was. Having lost a buttload of people in the merrily burning pyres at Smithfield thanks to Bloody Queen Mary, the English had had it up to their eyeballs with religious fervor. The relative peace and prosperity of the Virgin Queen Elizabeth’s reign had made them less tolerant of anymore.
    The leader of the Venatores Mali was Roland McHugh. He’d executed more witches than anyone in history. Before he burned them, he branded them, believing the mark would cleanse their souls, banish their demons, and purify them of satanic whispers.
    Though no mention was made of what the brand looked like or what he had used to do it, I figured there were enough coincidences between Mary, Wikipedia, and my vision to think I’d found the right guy. That Mary thought Roland was coming back, even though he’d died in the Plague of 1636, was disturbing. That she thought he’d been speaking to her was even more so.
    I went to my room, but it was a long, long time before I fell asleep.
    I woke in the dark, and I wasn’t alone. I didn’t move, kept my breathing even, got ready to fight back if I needed to.
    Then the scent of sun and limes reached me an instant before Dr. Frasier murmured, “Willow?”
    I wanted to reach out, take his hand, draw him next to me on my bed, curl into him, go back to sleep. Instead, I sat up, tossed off the covers, stood. Lying in bed with him anywhere near only caused me to yearn.
    â€œMary’s awake,” he said. “And she’s asking for you.”
    I bet she was.
    I stepped into the bright fluorescent lights of the hall and blinked until my eyes didn’t ache. Together we walked toward solitary.
    â€œDid you sleep?” I asked.
    â€œI had work.”
    â€œYou should go home.”
    â€œI have to find out how Mary escaped. What if she does it again? What if someone else does?”
    I didn’t think that was going to happen, but as I couldn’t tell him why, I kept quiet.
    We walked down several long hallways. Solitary was located in the farthest wing still in use. Beyond it there were many more, but they were dark, cold, and dusty. Their entrances were blocked by padlocked gates so none of us could scoot down there and do things that we shouldn’t.
    Dr. Frasier stopped at a locked door, with a single small window. He glanced in. “I told her you would visit. It seemed to calm her.”
    I waited for him to open the door, but he didn’t.
    â€œI should probably go in with you,” he mused.
    â€œShe isn’t going to tell me anything if you’re there.”
    â€œWhat if she tries to hurt you?”
    â€œI can take care of myself.”
    His gaze was drawn to the window again. I got uneasy and glanced in too. Mary sat on the bed, hands folded, waiting.
    â€œWhy does she have a bandage on her forehead?”
    â€œThere was some head banging. She stopped when I promised she could see you.”
    â€œThen let her see me before she starts up again.”
    â€œWhat if she decides to head-bang you?”
    â€œI’ve been in places rougher than this, with people scarier than Mary.”
    His forehead creased.
    â€œI’ll be fine.” I’d envisioned the faces of several people who wanted to hurt me. None of them had been hers.
    He unlocked the door and I went inside.
    â€œWillow!” Mary rushed forward, hugged me a little too hard. When she let me go, she scowled at the window. “Is he out there?”
    The glass was one-way. “Could be. But he can’t hear us if we’re quiet.”
    He’d expect me to tell him what she said, but he wouldn’t believe the truth, would write it off as crazy talk. I’d have to figure out something.
    â€œWhat