Witch Trial

Chapter 1

How to describe it, the fug of shit and blood that hit the back of his throat the moment he walked into the dark of the wooden shed, so pungent he nearly gagged.

All he wanted to do was turn round and get the hell out of there.

Instead, he switched on a torch, moving it slowly across the plywood floor.

Feathers everywhere, that’s what he registered after the smell, blood smeared everywhere too.

Not randomly, though. As he scanned the area, the light beam picking out the marks, he saw that there was a deliberate pattern to it, a five-pronged star.

A pentagram. And at its heart, a dead pigeon, headless, its breast cut open down the middle, its wings spread out wide underneath in its last bloody flight. A scene he will never forget.