Logrono, Spain
My eyes adjusted to the sunlight and the bright day. Barrister and I flew there to learn more about the witch hunts there as any tid bit could be important and to help us move on from the hard few days we had been experiencing. My Spanish was terrible but I had hired an interpreter.
I had already done some research on the witch hunts and made notes of it for the council. Since we were on that side of the world anyhow, I figured we could dig around. You just never know what might help. Aolani had sent me the name of an old Bruja, someone who was considered a living fund of witchcraft knowledge and we were eager to get to her.
Our translator Jorge also acted as our driver and I handed him the piece of paper with the address and he nodded. "We take you to the hotel first and then we take you to see the bruja, she will tell you everything," I certainly hoped so.
The hotel was nice and clean and faced the Pyrenees. Barrister dumped our bags on the luggage bench and I went to my bag and grabbed a fresh note pad and my little voice recorder and a couple of pens and my camera. I did not know what I might find, but I was going to document it fully.
I changed clothes and we headed out where our guide was waiting. It was not a long drive and we were at the bruja's house in no time. It was hot and there were only a few trees in area til we came to the casa where our witch lived. The house was classic Spanish construction. There were trees all around it and a low rock wall around the perimeter. the yard had no grass to speak of but it was packed earth and flat stones all around and there was an herb garden in the front, growing vibrantly in the unforgiving soil, like all herbs tend to do. I could smell the lemon verbena and the sage and heather in the hot wind. Somehow, it was refreshing and I filled my lungs with it.
Children where playing in the courtyard and there were hearty plants in clay planters adding a jewel-like green against the yellow clay brick of the house. A slender motley colored cat came mewing up to us, it's tail up and it's eyes expectant. We were led into an inner courtyard that was a bit more formal. There was a boy there cleaning fish and a woman making tortillas on a flat piece of metal laying over a braisure of coals. The fragrance of the corn wafted up to me. Another woman was cooking peppers and their pungent capsasin was filling the courtyard with the promise of spicy savories to come. We were greeted by another man, who might have been in his sixties. He was dark and the lines of his face seemed soft, almost beautiful. His hair was long and tied back and he had a shapeless felt hat on his head that would shade him from the most ferocious of sun. He said something to our guide and he nodded...
"We are to go with him and eat and then the bruja will see us," he said. I nodded.
We were led into the dining room. It was a lovely big room with worn braided rugs and red tiles and a battered but much scrubbed table. Plates were set before us and a big jug of spring cooled red wine, made right there at the house was brought to us. The older man poured us glasses and we tasted it. It was very sweet with a black berry undertaste that gave it a tang that was refreshing. Several women and men came and sat down with us. If having strangers here was uncomfortable to them, you would never know. The women who had been cooking the peppers and the tortillas came in and brought in the work of their hands. Another woman came in brought in a platter of beef and rice and a young man brought in a large pot of soup. Bowls were ladled out to us and tortillas passed to us. The old man made the sign of the cross and prayed over the food. After prayers we began to eat. As we ate, more food was brought to us, the fish the young man was cleaning, some rabbit, some chicken, and we took a little of everything and ate and drank til we were full. There was no talking and as soon as the meal was over, the men and women who joined us stood and took off, back to work, I supposed.
We were given strong coffee and thick cream to add to it. Another bottle of wine was brought. We sat quietly, waiting to see her, the bruja we had come to speak to.
Bill had told me about the situation with the witches and what had happened. I was hoping we would find a way to help them, or at least give them a heads up. I worried about Eric. He was under her sway now...
Finally, the older man stood and we followed suit. I was amazed by her. She might have been four feet tall. She was maybe 80 years old but carried herself erect. She was wearing a bright skirt and a white blouse and her eyes were dark as a Vampire's dawn. She had her hair braided and wore silver earrings. She sat down and we followed suit. The guide introduced us and she smiled at us. Of course everything she said to us was in Spanish, and our words were translated for her.
"Welcome," she said. A woman brought the old woman some soup and the soft fish. She tore a tortilla apart and dipped it in the savory gravy and began to eat. We sat there and let her eat in silence. Once finished, she called for the whiskey bottle and took a dram and smacked her lips. She was toothless, giving her an apple doll look. "What I can do for you?"
"We have a problem, and we need your help," I said. I told her with all honesty about the Vampires and Antonia and the trouble we were having with her. I told her what I knew, and confessed we thought she would know more. She nodded and stood again and motioned for us to follow her. We stood up and went with her. We went into yet another court yard, this one was private. It was her power place, where she brought people to work for them. There was a lovely little sheltered altar dominated by a statue of the blessed virgin in her bright red and blue robes, but I knew the old woman was using her to represent Mari...the basque mother goddess, the one the Logrono witches prayed to. She indicated we should sit with her in the garden.
"Vampires are not immortal," she began. I nodded. This I knew. They may live a long time and be hard to kill but they can die. "And not all witches are good, like us." I nodded at that too. I had gotten my witch learning from books and other witches but this woman was born a witch and had learned the Craft at her mother's knee.
"Mother, tell me about the witches who died in Zummagara?" I asked.
"Those witches were at odds with the Vampires. They did more than curse them into the sun...They were raising Vampires," she said. I listened to the interpreter telling me her words. I looked at her.
"Mother, you surely are mistaken, only another Vampire can make a Vampire," I said.
"I didn't say she was making them...she was raising them, from the dead. Even Vampires know that once you are dead, the true death, you should never resurrect them. The humans who become Vampire are never truly and completely dead. As you know, they are near death, but the Vampire's blood transforms them and makes them not human anymore, the human part them that grows old and fades with age and disease and sickness is dead, but they do not die, they are made Vampire."
I thought about that a moment. It was a strange way to look at it. "So what were they raising? Vampires...they don't leave much of a corpse behind?"
"What they leave behind is enough. But this Antonia was raising the undead and this is an anathema to Vampires. Had she been an ordinary bruja and stayed to herself and others like her, then she would have been safe, and all the women of her coven with her. But Antonia was a necromancer, she spoke to the dead and raised them up. She became their master and she ordered them to kill other Vampires."
"The Vampire priests and nuns... she was after them. Why?" I asked.
"She fell in love with a Vampire. He threw her away when he was tired of her and took another lover. So she began to delve into the land of the spirits and she divined a way to bring back the undead. This made her their maker and they did as she bid them," she explained. "But she also learned to take over the bodies of Vampires and bend their will. Your Vampire friend, he is in her sway?"
"Oh yeah, he is in a lot of trouble," I said, thinking of Eric.
"You have to force her to remove the spell and this will not be easy," she said.
"Damn," I said. "Do you know what we might be able to do to help?"
"He has to be saved by someone who loves him," said the Bruja. "And it is dangerous for that person to try. She will have to fight for him."
I could think of all the sister wives Eric had but I could imagine only one who right now could have that power and that was the blond bon bon of Bon Temps, Miss Sookie Stackhouse.
"Thank you mother, for telling us what you know. I will keep it in mind," I said.
"Take this, it may help you," she said. She slipped something in my hand. "Do not open it til the time is right and only you will know."
"Okay," I said.
So much to ponder...
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