LUST - 03

"Another husband added to the list, eh? What's this? The sixth on- OW!" The unremarkably average man, of average frame, fitted in an averagely tailored copper's uniform clenched his arm in a fit of exaggerated pain.

"How… dare you!? Some subordinate you are! Flogging your superior officer is an offence! Flogging ANY officer is an offen-" The average man offered an average response to his junior officer; a response a tad bit too repetitive, and well, unremarkable, to follow the ruling of "show, don't tell.".

"The only offence here, sir, is your behavior, dare I say... your presence. Need I remind you she is RIGHT there?!" A tanned woman of slightly less average physique than her superior officer, after lecturing him, took a glass-shattering step onto the feces stained, pentagram covered, bloodied floor with him following behind.

"Heavens to Betsy, this place smells like shi- oh… there's the culprit. Feces… Feces everywhere… Must be for some ritual of hers?" Try as she might, the young subordinate couldn't hold her eyes back from glaring at her superior; her hands had already been covering her nose, after all. Instead, she opted to take a few more steps ahead of him.

"Don't leave me alon-! Don't leave your position without permission. Where are you going?" her superior officer pleaded.

"I'm going to do my job, sir. I suggest you grow a pair, and do yours as well."

"Ha! You say that, but you're sweatin' in your boots over there."

"Well… Of course, sir, what else would you expect? I am about to console a witch, after all..." "Oh, and sir…"

"What is it, now, kid? You're keeping me from 'doing my job'."

"Earlier you said 'sixth'. Well, he's actually the eight one. And, I reckon based on this… scenery, they hadn't even taken vows yet. And the name is Emma, not kid."

"Go do your job, Kid."

"He's not dead… He's not dead… He's not dead…. He's not dead…. He's not… He can't be… He… No. He's not dead…"

"She's been at it for ages… slouching there offering up the same line on repeat like she's stuck in some witch's trance. I can't manage nothin' out of her and frankly, I'd rather get nothin' out of her; probably got them demons up in her and all. Well, I'm off!" Another junior officer handed over an excuse to Emma, and rushed off from the scene, both relieved of anxiety and duties; more than likely relieved of demons and couple of curses as well.

"H…hey, it's alright." Emma reluctantly propped herself on the wall, exactly, or at least within the scope of her head measurements, seven inches beside Verene in hopes that the number of God would keep her safe from any curses or lingering spirits of the Devil.

"He's not… He isn't…"

"I know. I wouldn't take the those coppers seriously. He's alive. You would never hurt him. I know that. I know you love him, so much." Emma, despite the grasp of fear on her mind, ventured deeper and deeper, using her psychology training as a map of the chaotic scape that was Verene's anxious heart.

"But, Verene…if we're to find your husband and cop the ones who did… well, this-" Emma's eyes ushered Verene's view across the chaotic scenery that was meant to be her wedding.

"-We'll have to know everything you know. Think you'll be able to help us with that?" Emma shifted herself half an inch closer to the tattered, blood covered, pale-skinned girl; her mind inching just as much to a question so unspeakable it'd have finally given her superior officer the excuse to axe her; Could she really be a witch? This woman? Her wedding dress, even soaked in blood and…other matter, invited any who gazed upon it to ponder if she'd finally managed a spell to turn silver into gold. Weren't it for the grim-laced events of that night, perhaps a few of the villagers would have considered having a witch around a potential blessing of the financial variety, rather than a curse.

"I already…told them. I don't know anything. We were…we…"

"Take your time, it's alright."

"Thank you… But I really don't know anything. We were getting ma- married tonight. We didn't expect anyone to show up, not the pastor, not even my parents, not his… so when I got here and saw no one… it wasn't su- surprisin'. But he… He never…Oh God, please not again…Please don't take him from me too! Please!"

"He's alive. Remember that. Hold on to that. He IS alive. We WILL find him, together." Emma, no longer entirely shaking from a sense of fear, felt her body shivering mostly of fear mixed with a tad bit of frustration; frustration brought about by a depressing conclusion. IF by some slim chance this woman wasn't really a witch… IF she'd simply been a victim of a badly dealt hand of husbands and lovers… Emma knew she owed this woman, owed Verene an- no, the entire village owed her a lot more than a simple apology or two.

"Now that we've settled the matter of finding him, we need only discuss the matter of 'how' we'll go about it. Hmm… we've already checked his folks mansion, his house, the tens of businesses they run, and of course your home."

"…"

"Any idea where else he might be? Say he came here after all, and saw this mess for himself… where'd he have gone?"

"His family? Did you chec-" Verene stuttered.

"Yes, we did. You weren't…listenin- Sorry, I know this isn't easy for you…Look, we'll find him, why don't you- What in the- good heavens! What is he doing?!" Without thinking, Emma bolted up from the ground carrying a scolding glare at what seemed to be her supposed superior doing…jumping jacks at the crime scene.

"OvEr HeRe!" the average man mouthed to his junior officer.

"And there's my cue. Imbecile."

"Oh, and you know… for all its worth, I'm quite the 'people' reader. Oh! I'm not bragging or anything like that; all of us coppers are-"

"HURRY!!" The average man mouthed from a distance.

"Some of us are, at least… Anyway, what I'm saying is, you're not a witch; they're all wrong about you. We're all wrong about you… Sorry. Be right back!" Only after minutes of internally unwrapping the young officer's gift; her folly, her unbelievably nonsensical statement, her blasphemy, her… unforgettable kind words, did Verene remember to at the very least, nod as a show of tardy gratitude.

"Would you like to go home?" the young officer, after clearly giving her superior a stern talking, approached Verene with a much more relaxed demeanor. Well, as relaxed as one would be surrounded by witch's wedding hall. Except, Emma couldn't help but wonder… if Verene really wasn't a witch, who did it? Who would go so far, and for what reason? She couldn't fathom a hatred possessive enough to influence more than one person to create such a scene; and unless magic truly played a role in it all, no one person could have pulled it off, much less in a few hours. Unless… was she…a witch after all-

"Thank you."

"What? Sorry! I was lost in tho-"

"Thank you. You're… the first person to offer me any kindness lately… Well, outside of Onfroy…"

"Oh…" The junior officer's deductive and analytical thoughts brought with them a heavy sense of guilt. Perhaps her heart had, rather.

"We'll find him. Let's get you home. Alright?"