February 5, 1998

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Karen surveyed their acreage. The winds kept up a lot longer than she anticipated.

Bart would be ecstatic.

The encroaching trees were not only pushed back from the property line, they were scattered farther back than she could have done on her own, at least short of an attempt at a controlled burn.

Karen called from the porch deck. "Hey!"

David came outside with a lemonade in hand. "What's up?"

"Lemonade?"

David sipped it through a straw. "It's a balmy sixty-two degrees out. Raining, yeah. It's about as lemonade weather as we're going to get."

"Call a landscaper, baby. See if they can cut those downed trees into firewood."

"You really hate those trees."

"Nothing gets to keep what I have. It's mine."

David cleared his throat. "Ours."

"It's ours, then. Whatever. Now that they're gone, we can do something with the land."

David sipped his lemonade and stared at Karen. He drank it down until the glass was half full. "Oh, now we can build on the land. Never mind the acres of land leading up to it."

"I want that part." Karen nudged him and presumed he would consider it cute.

"Fine. Our bags are packed, want to go see Bishop?"

"After you call a landscaper."

* * *

Bishop greeted them at the door before they had the chance to knock. "David and Karen Walker. I missed the wedding."

"You didn't send a gift, either." Karen folded her arms but she was grinning. "It's good to see you well, Bishop. How's ruling doing?"

"Oh, I don't rule. Nothing here to rule over, anyway. Your esteemed Grand Inquistor has rid us of that problem, has he not?"

Karen and David exchanges glances.

"No need to be secretive. My hunters managed me the information of your ongoing and successful inquisition." Bishop stared at Karen through dark lensed spectacles.

"Successful." Karen sighed. "Is it safe to speak here?"

"No one in my domain has any desire to speak with your Grifford. We keep to ourselves, training, and refurbishing Pridewater."

"For what?" David nodded a gesture behind him. "You have a population of what, fifty?"

"Fifty-five." David and Karen could hear the amusement in Bishop's otherwise dour sing-song voice. It's higher pitch lacked the whimsical tones it once held. "Fifty-five living residents of Pridewater. We get on well enough, and our economy is simple. We're invested in farming, ranching and a self sustaining environment."

Karen smirked. "So you're literally a Puritan farm community."

"From sunset Friday until sunset on Saturday, there is no work. We read, and enjoy our rest. The sabbath is a celebrated time here."

"So... Puritan farm community."

Bishop laughed. "You bring a great deal of needed levity here, Karen."

"Where's Penelope and Mark? Where's Cameron Dean?"

"Well, it's the fourth day. I imagine Mark is overseeing Mark Hulsey's Ranch. He keeps the ranch hands busy. Lots of sheep, goats, and cattle to look after. Penelope aids in textiles. She's become very talented a seamstress. Young master Dean spends his time overseeing work at Justin Weiss's farm."

"What the hell is the fourth day?"

"Well, your Saturday is our first day of the week. Your Thursday is our fourth day. We've collectively decided that in living Godly lives, we ought abandon the pagan names of a Hellenistic week's time. Since I have no desire to include Helios, Selene, Ares, Hermès, Zeus, Aphrodite or Kronos in my daily life, I simply loie my days - each day - by the numbered day of the week."

Karen frowned. "Bishop, it sounds absolutely bo-ring."

"I would take this life here over the violence of your Driftwood any day. I know we don't have your ceaseless raining here, but it would be rude of me to keep you at my door all the same. Will you come inside?"

* * *

Bishop's home was its usual dim lighting but Karen adjusted without difficulty. David was still rubbing his eyes. Karen nudged him.

"Your house smells delightful. What is that?"

"Shepard's pie. Cooking large portions for tonight's supper. Mark and Penelope work hard, so they eat a lot. Cameron favors lamb, and so I tend to prepare for meals. Whatever keeps morale high and satisfies a hunter's hunger."

Karen and David followed Bishop into his drawing room.

Bishop sat into his armchair and unwrapped the bandages from his face. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled. "There is nothing I can do to help you. My estate is here and in our little splinter of the inquisition there's too much to lose that we haven't lost already."

David and Karen sat down onto the couch in Bishop's drawing room. David leaned in, elbows propped up on his knees. "Your home looks the same. Your furniture, the same. Not just how it looks. Everything is arranged here as it was when you were back home."

"Home is where the heart aches, David. I suffer here just as much as I suffered there but the difference here being the respite from your Grand Inquisitor. Here, it's quiet. I am an old man and only interested in retirement. Dean will take up my role eventually and then I can spend the remainder of my days staring out a window, watching the seasons change."

"Pining over the good old days?"

Bishop drew a pipe from the table beside his seat. "You're out of line, David."

"My apologies, Inquistor Bishop. I didn't come here to make trouble for you."

"Don't call me inquisitor." Bishop held the stem of his pipe between his teeth and produce two wooden matches and lit them off his thumbnail. He lit the bowl of his pipe and inhaled deeply. The gray-purple smoke swirled out of his mouth as he exhaled. It smelled of tobacco, roses and vaguely of hashish. "The past is the past. It dies as all things die. The woman from whom I used to purchase this tobacco. The Gypsy lady. She moved on. I have about twenty-five bricks of it in storage, but this blend is in its last days with me. Like everything else, it will eventually disappear."

"I'm not going to let our city die like that."

Karen placed a hand on David's shoulder. "Your honor, Bishop. If you can't help us, do you know anyone who can?"

Bishop drew in another breath through his pipe. He exhaled out a smoke ring, a solid looking circle that grew in size and faded into a faint swirling mass. "No. Everyone I knew is dead and those still living have no desire to go back to Driftwood."

David rubbed his face and wiped his nose a moment between his thumb and forefinger. "A lot of people are going to die if no one does a thing."

"There was a moment before you were born, a moment when the church demanded the Inquisition be dissolved. The brothers Grifford wouldn't have it. I don't know who did it, but the Griffords had delivered the head of the archbishop in a box back to the church. We were at that moment a weakened order. Had someone spoken up, had someone taken action back then, sure. We could do something now. The Order has become too powerful, reconstructed entirely from Grifford's vision and direction."

"What could we do to stop this?" David's voice was a whisper but it filled the room. Karen felt fear forming in her stomach.

"I suppose you could pray he dies of old age. Otherwise, who could stop him?"

Gina could. Karen thought, but dared not speak it aloud. "There has to be someone close to him, someone who wants him gone."

"Exiled." David corrected her.

"Oh, speak plainly." Bishop waved a hand. "You want him dead."

Karen nodded.

"Be loyal to your order, young Walkers. The Order May belong to Grifford but Grifford is not The Order."

"Right now, everything has a way of working itself out. Everything in Driftwood, especially. Nothing goes on there that doesn't leave its mark or have its mark left upon it."

"We need allies." David stood, slow to his feet, and paced. "If we cannot stop this reform, Grifford's solution, then there will be nothing left to fight."

"You are so much like your father, boy. Like your grandfather, too. Always for the side of what you feel is right. You're a part of the inquisition. What would you expect should be? Since the court of Oyer and Terminer in Salem went underground, the only goal was the eradication of the witch. Coven, whether one or many."

"Genocide is not the way." David felt his cheeks flushing. "People who make the conscious decision to practice, to alter the natural order on their own authority. They're the enemy. Children? How can we hold responsible the children of our enemies?"

Bishop set his pipe back on its stand and leaned forward, resting on his elbows. "Is that not what The Order has done to you? From birth until your advanced education - dare I say indoctrination - and into the marriage arranged for you with Karen Hutchinson. Your third cousin, I believe?"

"It is the law of blood and binding. We must keep our lines pure."

"David..." Karen edged on the seat closer to David. 

"...and where was this mandatory in the history of any inquisition? The dogmatic laws of The Order's blood and binding. Blood, a family does not make. Cameron Dean is not my son, nor is Mark. Penelope is not my daughter, and yet they are my family. They will inherit my estate."

"Yes, Bishop but you're different."

"Different how? Different because one of Grifford's own zealots betrayed me? Different because I cannot contribute to a line of my own?"

"Different because you were a rogue! An exile!"

Silence hung thick in the air. Karen's face was pale, just short of Bishop's pallor. David's face was dark red.

Bishop sat back into his chair and smiled without so much as a trace of frustration. "Says your inquisition. Says the dogma that built it. I never betrayed The Order. I am a killer, yes. A traitor? No."

David's eyes were close to welling up. "Your honor..."

"All is forgiven, David. Do not  I know you. If you did not care, you would not be angry." Bishop reached for his pipe and paused. "...and stop calling me your honor. You would condemn the actions of The Order and defend the order all at once."

David slumped. "The Judge can't be allowed to do this."

Bishop drew his pipe up to his mouth, placing the stem between his lips and puffed on it thoughtfully.  He spoke through a plume of smoke as he exhaled. "You are about to declare war on The Order. An inquisition of the inquisition. Is now a time for civil war?"

"The alternative is the eradication of innocent lives!" David was on his feet. "The alternative is to stand by complacently as The Order turns to tyranny."

Bishop smiled at David. "When have we not been tyrannical? Kneel to The Order Inquisition, or burn. Or hang. Drown. Be crushed under the weight of stone. When has The Order - our order - ever acted magnanimously?"

"We are good men, the most of us!" David's fists were balled, his body trembling and his face red.

"What says you, Karen Walker? You've thus been very quiet." Bishop nodded, eyes meeting Karen's. 

Karen nodded in return. "I believe David. I believe you. There is a cancer within The Order, and a corruption. I don't know if it's always been or if it's grown so slowly we adjusted to it. I know it has to be stopped, but not at the cost of destroying it here."

"Then your war is lost before you begin. No one will ally with you."

David drew in a deep breath through his nose and exhaled. "There are sides. This is complicated. To defy Grifford's solution is treasonous and that alone is a death sentence. To defy his solution to defend the families of Coven is heresy."

"As I said. Your war is lost before you begin. To cut out the cancer you would need allies. What allies would side with you when you cannot choose a side? I wish you well, Walkers. Please... stay for dinner. Perhaps you will feel better after a proper meal."


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