Agrippa paused before continuing. “His followers await the eternal rule of evil—the devil in his true form. Let us all pray that they are mistaken, that I am mistaken. That the beast stays deep down below in hell and doesn’t return to earth, subduing us all as his slaves. The return of the beast is the return of chaos. It is the spirit of perpetual negation.”
There was a shattering noise. Johann ducked instinctively and saw a stone flying through the broken window. Angry shouts could be heard from the street. Something warm ran down his cheek. He touched it and saw that it was blood.
The return of the beast, echoed Agrippa’s voice through Johann’s mind. The eternal rule of evil.
Then the great nothing spread its black wings over him.
“Watch out!” Greta dived under the table when two more stones were hurled through the window. She saw the doctor fall—was he hit? And what was going on outside?
Hunched over, she scuffled to the window and cast a cautious glance outside. About twenty men and women were standing in front of the house, all of them dressed in plain, worn-out clothes. Some were holding cudgels, others torches, and others again were picking up more stones. It was clear from their staggering movements that most of them were drunk—they’d probably come straight from the Graoully procession. When they caught sight of Greta in the window, they started to shake their fists angrily and shout.
“Send out the witch doctor!” demanded a broad-shouldered, bearded man swinging a heavy club. Greta recognized the landlord from the tavern she and Karl had been drinking at not long ago. “Give us the doctor or we’ll come and get him!”
At first she thought they were talking about her uncle and that word must have gotten around about Agrippa’s new assistant. But then Agrippa stepped to the window beside her, and instantaneously the shouts grew louder and angrier.
“Agrippa, black sorcerer!” cried the people. “You’re in cahoots with that witch!”
“What are you talking about?” asked Agrippa harshly. He didn’t seem frightened in the least. “I am a lawyer employed by the city, not a sorcerer. How dare you, you rabble? Get away from here before I call the city guards!”
In the twilight below, Greta thought she could make out some guards among the crowd. They didn’t intervene, however. On the contrary—they seemed to be part of the angry mob. Greta decided to keep quiet for now.
“And as a lawyer you ensure that the witch doesn’t burn as she should but continues to wreak havoc and murder!” shouted the broad-shouldered leader. “What did she give you for your services? A love potion? A mandrake that fulfills your every wish? Spit it out, advocate of the devil!”
More stones were flung and Agrippa ducked.
“The fellow once lost a trial against me as lawyer for the city,” Agrippa whispered to Greta as they waited below the windowsill for the onslaught to ease. “Perhaps he thinks he can take his revenge this way.” When things calmed down a little, Agrippa rose cautiously and addressed the crowd once more.
“And who is the witch supposed to have murdered?”
“Our children!” cried a younger woman now, tears in her eyes. “They just found my little Marie dead by the Pont des Morts with her throat ripped open. And two other children from town have gone missing, just like the children from the country a few weeks back. It was the witch, that accursed Corbin, and you defend her. May God punish you for it!”
Greta swore under her breath. The people had found the dead girl and come straight here. And another mob had most likely rushed to the prison at Place Sainte Croix, throwing rocks and demanding the guards hand over Josette Corbin.
Agrippa lifted his hands with the palms up. “And how is she supposed to murder children from her prison cell?”
The people said nothing, some muttering under their breath.
“She’s a witch,” yelled a skinny old man with a scythe, looking like Death himself. “Witches can do such things. She uses magic to get out of prison for each murder.”
“Hmm, if what you say is true, then I’m sure she’s not in her cell right now,” replied Agrippa. “And that means I can’t have her handed over to you. She’ll have used magic to get over the hill and far away—she’s probably on Blocksberg Mountain by now, dancing with the other witches.”
It was too much logic for the plain people, most of them illiterate day laborers, and tired and drunk to boot. The uproar subsided as quickly as it had begun. The crowd muttered and cursed for a while longer, then the first people turned to leave. That was when Karl touched Greta by the shoulder.
“I need your help,” he said. “The doctor.”
Greta turned around and saw to her horror that her uncle was lying on the floor, twitching wildly. Clearly, he was having another fit. Just like last time, saliva ran from his mouth, and his arms and legs were completely rigid one moment and thrashing about wildly the next. He made slurred sounds alternating with groans and piercing screams. Little Satan stood next to his master and barked as if trying to rouse the dead.
“What’s going on up there?” demanded the leader of the mob. He raised his cudgel once more.
“You woke my boy,” replied Agrippa frostily. “He often has nightmares—and no wonder, with the spectacle you’ve been putting on. Time to go home now—tomorrow is another trial day, and everything will be resolved. Even the murder of your children. I promise you, if Corbin is a witch, then—”
Another long, mournful cry rang out behind him, followed by the mad barking of the dog. Greta had meanwhile rushed to Johann’s side and tried
