Vincent went to the still smoking ash pile of the stake where the townspeople had cleanse the evil that was the witch. The innocent people spat, prayed and shouted at the witch as the priest and the other ministers eradicated the evil infestation.
Now he was here to reverse that.
Checking that no witnesses were nearby he took out a flask, a loud pop followed as he pushed the lid off with his thumb. His hand shook when he tipped the flask upside down. An awful stench erupts from it as a thick fog escapes seeping into the ground like poison.
Vincent coughed searching for a handkerchief to cover his mouth. He watched in terrible wonder as the ash began to ripple such as when the wind creates ripples in the sand on a beach. It became more violent like a roar of a gigantic beast howling past Vincent’s ears. The ash clumped together glowing with ferocity like they had been relit, the particles melting and mixing into each other. Form followed, a head rising from the ash followed by shoulders, arms, the rest of the body appeared, a body of burning ash.
Vincent watched his hand had slipped away from his mouth which hung open in awe of the spectacle.
The form was still until red eyes like hot coals appeared in its face, a blazing glare that caused Vincent to shake and almost lose control of his bladder in fear. He still stood there for some unknown reason, transfixed by the sight.
The ash became smoother, lightening in colour until flesh appeared in patches. Quickly as the flesh appeared, the transformation swiftly came to its finale.
Vincent felt fear deep in his gut but also wonder at the beautiful woman stood in front of him. Heat crept up his neck as he felt small in her presence.
She stepped forward wearing a dress made of the ash layered in blacks, greys, whites and little flickers of orange embers. Although it no longer burned her. She twisted her hand in the air and the ash became flowing red silk, shimmering against her skin.
“Thank you good sir,” she said to him.
Vincent stared into her eyes that were no longer a fiery red but so dark they appeared completely black.
“You have one more favour to do for me,” she whispered in his ear.
A shiver rang through his body like her power radiated from her words through him.
“Anything,” he replied in a quiet voice.
She took hold of his face in both hands, he could smell smoke on her breath.
The witch touched his lips, parting them. Her nails went into his mouth, dug into his tongue and yanked it out.
A gurgling scream forced its way out and he reeled away in pain and horror as she shoved the tongue into her mouth. He was blinded by pain, choking. He saw blood ran from the corner of her mouth, his blood.
The witch caught his arm to prevent him from collapsing to the floor and pulled him close. Vincent pitifully tried to move away.
“You have betrayed your fellow priest and ministers for me Vincent, I thank you,” she said mockingly. “Secrets are spread by the tongue and now I know your secrets, they are mine.” A cruel laugh escaped and she slashed her nails across his throat, feeling the fine spray of blood across her face. He fell to the floor.
She breathed out a contented sigh, it was time to move on to a different place. Perhaps a sprawling city this time? It would be rather exciting.