Bastion held up his hands for silence. “This is a serious accusation. We must let Stefan reveal the truth by himself. By his own actions, he will decide if he lives or dies. As you are all my witnesses, I will do nothing until Stefan tells us who he really is.”
Everyone’s faces turned to stare at Stefan, eagerly devouring every little twitch and bead of sweat on his forehead. They were all he ever could have wanted in a congregation. The irony of the moment made the corner of his mouth twitch.
“I could tell you who I am,” Stefan said. “But of late, I have discovered someone more interesting. He is the Good Shepherd, and He chooses to protect His sheep with His life. He offers forgiveness for sins and grace, which is a far greater wonder than any magic you could imagine.”
Bastion pointed at Stefan and cried out, “Either open those doors and bring out those women, or you will stand convicted of witchcraft. You will be the first to die.”
“Do you know the difference between you and me?” Stefan whispered. “At first, I thought it was education, or study. Or wisdom. But now I know. You are compelled to do things you should not do. I am invited to do what I must.”
Bastion whipped around, grabbing a torch from a man standing below. Pointing it at Stefan’s face, he waved it side to side.
Stefan turned away from its searing heat, his eyes watering. He heard the silence sweep over the crowd. He heard only the sound of the torch snapping and popping and the hiss of flame. Bastion’s leering face, distorted by the flame, shimmered in its waves. Stefan stretched himself further across the doors, the wood digging into his back as he wrapped his arm through the handles. He prayed Erick would stay strong and resist coming after Stefan. Stefan had to do this. He had to keep those doors closed until Bastion was gone and the women were safe.
Bastion moved the torch closer, burning Stefan’s cheek. “If you are a good shepherd, save yourself. Your people will need you.”
“You don’t want Mia to burn. You want her for yourself. She will never have you. She has seen through your lies and your promises. It seems that you are the only one left who is deceived.”
Stefan saw a light breaking through the clouds above. Never had the moon and stars burned through a dark sky with such force. The heavens opened in hundreds of glimmering points, the glorious white moon holding back the night. Stefan turned his gaze from the promise of the moon and looked through the flames to face his enemy.
“Have you not read?” Stefan asked. “The good shepherd gives his life for just one sheep.”
The crowd was motionless. Father Stefan looked at them, their horror plain, piercing through their deception. Bastion had all control now, over life and death, and they realized they did not know this man.
“You are condemned!” Bastion screamed, plunging the torch into Stefan’s abdomen, oil and flame spilling across his robes, incinerating the dry linen. Flames shot from all directions as they caught his robes on fire. Stefan saw a flame leap across his arm and lick against the wood door of the church.
Bastion turned on the crowd. “You are my witnesses! He condemned himself by his actions!” He came down the steps, still carrying the torch. “And I will kill any one of you who does not tell the story this way. If you want to live, if you want your children to live, then when you are asked, you will say he was an admitted witch who would not let me burn his consorts.”
Bastion threw the torch at their feet, making the crowd scream and scatter as he walked into the night. Stefan cried out against his will. The flames moved to his legs and arms. His mind began to seize and tumble. He saw Bastion leaving. He did not want the last thing he saw on earth to be that man. He turned to look at Ava instead.
Her cage door hung open. She was gone.
Stefan’s legs gave out. He stumbled toward the church steps and fell down them, landing on his back. He lifted his eyes to the stars as he died.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Stefan was dead, Mary had said. His body was at the bottom of the steps.
Bastion was gone—he had ridden away on his horse, no one knew in which direction—and the streets were empty. Smoke settled in the church, stinging their eyes. Alma closed hers for relief and slept.
Mia couldn’t help the tears that flowed, and when Dame Alice wrapped her arms around Mia and spoke soft words, Mia embraced them. Eventually, she fell asleep.