“I don’t know why you continue to insist when I have told you that I am not a witch.”
“Let’s prove it then,” saying this, he pulled out a couple of things from his pocket. There were keys, handkerchiefs, cigarettes and matchbox which he held in his one hand while the other continued to rummage through his pocket coat. He then pulled out a chain with a cross in it. shifting the contents again, he handed the kerchief to her, “Can you hold this one for me?” he asked.
Penny knew exactly what this was. Of course, every witch would not be aware of it, but a vampire who was aware of the various scents used by the witch hunter would know that it was a potion made to identify and expose the witches. It didn’t matter if the person was white or a black witch.
Raising her hand, Penny took the kerchief from his hand without making it known that she knew what he was trying to do. It was probably one of the easiest ways to find out if the person was a witch. Seeing Penny not react to the kerchief, the witch hunter frowned, taking it back from her to say,
“It seems like I was under a misunderstanding,” he apologized, putting everything back in his pocket coat. Hearing this Penny could only release a sigh of relief internally in her mind before she heard him say, “But my gut still continues to tell something that something is very odd about you,” he placed his hands in his pocket, “Thank you for your time, Lady Penelope. I am sure we’ll be crossing paths again. I will be in the Shawen’s cottage,” she could only hope that it didn’t happen in the future.
Was this his way of saying he was going to be here to keep an eye on her as he seemed still unsure. Seeing him walk away from her, his figure diminished smaller and smaller until it completely disappeared. Finally, she let out a sigh of relief and stepped inside the carriage to go back to Quinn’s mansion.
The next few days as Penelope came to visit the church, she couldn’t help but be wary of her surroundings. Once or twice she had also caught the witch hunter walking by but he wasn’t only walking by. It was as if he was trying to let her know that he was always watching, waiting for her to make a mistake. She had thought that the kerchief would have been enough proof for him to get off her path.
One fine day just as Penny was done studying in the church, she opened the door which led to the confession box and then out of it step towards the chapel to look at the witch hunter who had taken a seat at one of the benches inside the church.
She decided to ignore him, walking away from the chapel and up the aisle when she heard him call her, “Lady Penelope.”
She turned around, watching him walk towards her, “Yes?” she asked with the patient voice.
“I think you dropped this,” he said, bringing up the kerchief in front of him. Penny wanted to tell him to find another means to detect if a person was a witch than overuse the concept of kerchief over and over again. Did the witch hunters really hunt the witches?
“It isn’t mine,” she spoke. Both of them staring at each other as if there was some kind of match taking place between them. A local woman who had entered the church looked at them with the corner of her eyes before walking by them.
“Are you sure?” he asked her, “You didn’t even look at it.”
“That’s because I don’t carry a kerchief along with me.”
“Hmm, what lady wouldn’t carry one,” he asked her.
“A lady who knows she won’t spill things and eat like a wild person in the jungle,” she took the kerchief anyways, looking down and fiddling around with it before handing it back to him, “You should at least bring a better kerchief if you’re going to make a woman claim that this is hers, Mr. Turner.”
Penny believed that the man must have added something more and had returned in the hopes of proving that she was a white witch. There was a look of disappointment as well as confusion on his face.
“I have told this before I am not whom you are looking for. There are actual witches who are causing havoc by stealing people and butchering them. Maybe you should focus on them and not me unless this is only an excuse for you to come see me every day which I truly hope isn’t. Is it?” she asked, turning the table around.
The witch hunter looked at her startled. Was she implying he had been following her because he was smitten by her? It was given that a lot of aristocrats had big heads but never had he been accused like this. This was shameful for him.
“I will make sure to change the kerchiefs next time,” he said holding her eye to which she nodded.
“Please do, but I am sure a lot of them already carry what they need while discarding what is not required. We, women like to walk with our hands being light. This is will the last warning, I would rather you not hover around and offer me your kerchief unless you want to be reported and thrown in the local dungeon of the village,” the witch hunter left and Sister Jera who had been peeking from the confession box jumped out and went to the Lady who hadn’t moved.
“Are you alright, Lady Penelope? We often have witch hunters who hover around the church. You should be careful,” the nun advised. Curious she then asked, “How come you weren’t affected by the kerchief?” the potion which was put into the kerchief didn’t spare any in identifying who the witches were.
“Maybe it wasn’t effective enough.”
