Free Black Magic Woman by Justin Gustainis Page B

woman, see? And then you set fire to it. It is one fokken ugly way to die, Mister Fenton."
    "I've heard of it," Fen ton said, when Van Dreenan finally paused.
    " Ach , you do know something of my country. That is good. But do you know why such a method is used?"
    Fenton shrugged. "As an example, to scare others? It's slow, agonizing, and the final result looks horrible."
    "It does have such an effect, of course. But that is not the principal reason."
    "What is, then?"
    "Tribal beliefs hold that the only way to kill a witch for certain is through fire. Otherwise, it is said, they may come back, seeking revenge."
    Fenton made a face. "Pretty goddamn barbaric."
    "No doubt," Van Dreenan said. "But such barbarism, if it must be called that, has not always been confined to the continent of Africa, Mister Fenton. They did the same in Europe, beginning in the Fifteenth Century, you know. And always, they used fire. The Malleus Maleficarum was very clear—"
    "The what?"
    "The Hammer of Witches, is the English translation. It was a book that was, in effect, the Bible for witch hunters. It is flawed in many ways, but says very clearly that a witch must be put to death by fire. It caused much suffering for many innocent people, over the course of some two hundred years."
    "Look, Van Dreenan, we're burning daylight, ourselves. Is there a point to this history lesson?"
    "Indeed there is, Mister Fenton. You have said that you do not take my work seriously—"
    "Hey, wait, I never said—"
    "—and I simply wanted to give you some perspective on what I do. Of course, investigating such crimes as I have just described is only part of the work my unit does. The rest involves the activities of the witches themselves."
    "I was wondering when we were going to get to that."
    "The reason why I came here, ja. Understand, when I speak of witches, I do not refer to the sangomas, the traditional healers. They practice what you would call folk medicine. Much of what they do is quite sensible, and the rest of it does no real harm, most of the time. But witchcraft…" Van Dreenan shook his head a couple of times, "that is something very different. It refers to the practice of black magic—you use the same term in this country, I think? Black magic?"
    Fenton shrugged. "Sure. In stories."
    "Well, what we deal with in my unit are not stories, Mister Fenton. Witches are people who use black magic, and black magic has only one purpose—to hurt people."
    "You mean they think it hurts people, right?"
    Van Dreenan just looked at him.
    "These witches you're talking about," Fenton said, "they commit crimes in the mistaken belief that doing so will give them this supernatural power, right?"
    Van Dreenan remained silent.
    "Or, are you talking about some kind of psychosomatic effect? Like in voodoo? I've read up on that, too. Guy finds out he's been cursed by a houngan, and because he and the houngan are part of the same belief system, the guy's mind causes him to develop symptoms consistent with the curse. That the kind of thing you're talking about?"
    Van Dreenan produced a tiny smile. "Of course, Agent Fenton. What else could I be referring to? Some sort of genuine supernatural power? The ability to harness and direct the so-called 'forces of darkness?' If I said that, you would regard me as either a lunatic or a fool, I think, ja? Certainly not an experienced, professional police officer, which is what I am."
    Fenton nodded slowly. "Yeah," he said, studying Van Dreenan's face. "Yeah, I guess I would, at that."

Chapter 7
    Walter LaRue had slept until almost 9:30, an indication of how exhausted he'd really been. At a few minutes after 10:00, freshly shaved and showered, he was just picking up the room phone to call Morris when he heard a knock at the door. After a quick look through the peephole, he opened up to admit Morris and the woman who was with him.
    "This is Elizabeth Chastain, who I mentioned to you last night," Morris said. "Libby, meet Walter LaRue."