Burn the Witches, Blame the Doctor

“You!” bellowed the leader of the troop, pointing a gloved finger straight at me. “Are you the charlatan who claims to heal without divine authorization!?”

I instinctively stepped in front of the twins, shielding them. Pururun hopped off my shoulder and positioned herself at my side like a loyal guard dog, her gelatinous surface rippling with tension.

“I’m a doctor,” I replied coldly. “And you are…? The welcome committee?”

The man dismounted with the kind of theatrical arrogance that made me want to rearrange his face with my fist. He was tall, lean, and radiated that special kind of noble smugness — someone who thinks shiny armor and a fancy title make him God’s gift to the world.

“Brother Inquisitor Valdris, of the Sacred Temple of Eternal Light. I’m here to investigate the disturbances that have shaken this region.”

If I had to bet, I’d say Father Cornelius had gone running to mommy and daddy, whining about the big bad doctor who ruined his grift. And this guy was the Temple’s idea of a response.

“Disturbances?” I repeated with mock confusion. “Oh, you mean the epidemic I wiped out while your colleague sat around scratching his holy balls?”

Valdris’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Precisely. That epidemic was a divine punishment. Only the truly faithful were meant to survive. Your interference has defied the will of the gods.”

“My will is to stop people from dying like stray dogs in a ditch. If your gods have a problem with that, they can come tell me themselves.”

A ripple ran through the crowd of villagers gathering to witness the confrontation. Some nodded approvingly. Others looked horrified, as if I’d just spat on a holy relic.

“Insolent!” roared Valdris. “But I didn’t come here for you.”

He made a hand gesture, and his men spread out in a wide semicircle around us.

“We’re hunting two impure creatures. Two dhampirs who’ve been spreading corruption through nearby villages. We were told they’re lurking somewhere in this region.”

Behind me, I felt Lyra and Mira stiffen like cornered animals. Pururun let out a low, bubbling growl, her surface becoming denser, darker.

“Dhampirs?” I said innocently. “What do those look like, again?”

“Don’t play games with me, charlatan. Two young girls. Black hair. Red eyes. Abominations carrying a curse in their blood.”

“Oh, those dhampirs. Sorry, haven’t seen them. But if I do, I’ll make sure to warn them you’re coming. So they can run faster.”

Valdris’s face twisted with rage.

“Those creatures are responsible for the epidemic! They poisoned the water in five villages! Forty-three dead!”

“Forty-three people died from latrine runoff contaminating their drinking water,” I shot back. “Not from a pair of abandoned kids.”

“Lies! Dhampirs spread rot wherever they go!”

“The only rot I see is the festering pile of your bigotry.”

The silence that followed was heavy and dangerous. His soldiers reached for their swords.

“You’re protecting these monsters,” Valdris spat. “That makes you an accomplice to their crimes.”

“I’m protecting two terrified girls. If that makes me a criminal in your book, then your book is garbage.”

At that moment, a villager — a farmer I’d treated the day before — stepped forward nervously.

“B-Brother Inquisitor,” he stammered. “Those girls… they haven’t done anything wrong…”

“SILENCE!” Valdris roared. “You dare defend impure creatures!?”

“But they — ”

“THEY ARE THE SOURCE OF ALL YOUR MISFORTUNE!”

The hysteria spread through the crowd like wildfire. Whispers turned to fearful murmurs. Suspicious eyes fell on us. The poison of fear was doing its work.

“It’s true they showed up just before the sickness started,” muttered an old woman.

“My chickens died the night I saw them near the coop,” added another man.

“My crops rotted after they passed by!”

I could feel the situation slipping out of my hands. Valdris’s psychological manipulation was working flawlessly on these scared, superstitious villagers.

“See?” the inquisitor proclaimed triumphantly. “Even those people acknowledge the truth! These demons have brought disaster upon their land!”

“The only disaster here is your collective stupidity!” I exploded. “These girls have done nothing except exist in a world that hates them for it!”

But the crowd had already tipped. Cries began to rise:

“Hang them!”
“Burn them!”
“Bleed the vermin dry!”

Valdris smiled — a predator’s grin. He had just turned a once-grateful village into a rabid mob with a few well-placed lies. Terrible healer. Brilliant demagogue.

“Hand them over, charlatan, and I’ll be merciful with you.”

“As I already told your God — go to hell!”

His hand closed around the hilt of his sword.

“Then you’ll die with them. Soldiers! Search the village! Find me those abominations!”

The troops fanned out, overturning barrels, entering homes, searching every corner. Behind me, the twins trembled but didn’t make a sound.

Then Pururun suddenly began to vibrate violently, flashing red exclamation marks across her body. She had sensed something.
Something bad.

At that same instant, distant screams echoed from the far end of the village.

“Fire! Fire! The church is on fire!”

Valdris went pale. The church was the Temple’s pride and symbol in every settlement. If it burned…

“It’s them!” he roared, pointing at us. “The dhampirs set fire to the church!”

“They haven’t moved in an hour, you bastard!” I shouted back.

But reason no longer mattered. The crowd was in a frenzy. Rocks started flying in our direction.

“BURN THE WITCHES!”
“DEATH TO THE DHAMPIRS!”
“PU-RI-FI-CA-TION!”

And then, Mira and Lyra did something completely insane.
They stepped out from behind me together, heads held high, standing side by side before the furious mob.

“Here we are!” Mira shouted. “You want dhampirs? Here we are!”

“If you want to burn us,” Lyra added, her voice steady and clear, “you’ll have to kill the man who protected us first.”

“What — wait, hold on! You’re cute, sure, but we literally just met. You could at least ask before volunteering me for martyrdom,” I blurted.

The mob actually recoiled a bit, stunned by the twins’ defiance. Even in their fear, something about two teenage girls facing death head-on was enough to give them pause.
Valdris, on the other hand, smiled like a wolf.

“Perfect. Both abominations at once. Men, seize them!”

I stepped in front of the twins, and my magical scalpels materialized in my hands, spinning threateningly. Pururun swelled until she was the size of a large dog, ready to fight.

“The first one who touches them, I’ll gut like a fish,” I growled.

But the odds were terrible. Four of us — including a slime — against fifty armed zealots. There was no winning this.

The twins clasped hands, their faces calm and proud despite the mob closing in.

And me — Ethan Russell, sarcastic, foul-mouthed, thoroughly godless — I once again found myself defending innocents against fanatics. Some things never change.

“Pururun,” I whispered, “think you can make us an exit?”

My slime shrank, focused, and then flared her frill like that dinosaur from the old movie. She launched a sizzling glob of corrosive acid at the feet of the nearest attackers.
Screams of pain erupted as the mob stumbled back.

“RUN!” I shouted to the twins.

We bolted toward the edge of the village, a furious mob hot on our heels, baying for our blood in the name of divine purity.

Once again, I’d managed to land myself neck-deep in trouble.

“Seriously,” I muttered between breaths as we sprinted, “my talent for attracting disasters is uncanny.”