Chapter 5
Heinrich
My congregation had already gathered for morning Mass—the faithful who still believed God might show mercy in a city that had forgotten the meaning of the word.
Frau Weber sat in her usual place, third row, clutching her rosary as if she might float away without it.
Old Hermann leaned heavily on his cane, his lips already moving in silent prayer.
And in the back row, Katharina. For a breath our eyes met, and I watched hers crinkle at the corners, mine mirroring the expression.
I had just opened my missal when the great doors swung open with unnecessary force.
Vicar General Friedrich Forner entered like a plague wind, his black cassock pristine despite the smoke that always hung over the city, his face etched in pious cruelty I’d come to despise.
He’d been in Bamberg for thirty years, had served under three bishops, and despite his frail appearance, I knew he had grown fat on the fear of the masses.
I watched Katharina shrink in the back row, blanched almost completely white.
“Father Heinrich,” he said, his voice carrying through the church with authority. “His Grace has asked me to deliver this morning’s sermon.”
My hands stilled on the altar cloth. “I wasn’t informed—”
“Are you questioning the Bishop’s authority…again?” His smile was all yellowed teeth. “Surely not. Not after yesterday’s…conversation.”
So, the Bishop had sent his dog to bark at my flock. I stepped aside with a bow that was little more than a nod. “Of course, Vicar Forner.”
He took my place at the altar with obvious satisfaction, his ascetic fingers caressing the lectern almost obscenely.
I moved to stand at the side, where I could watch both him and my congregation.
Already, I could see the fear creeping into their faces.
Forner’s sermons were legendary for their ability to make even the innocent feel damned.
“My children,” he began, though his tone held no warmth. “We live in dark times. The Devil walks amongst us, not as some distant threat, but here”—he slammed his hand on the lectern, making Frau Weber jump—“in our very midst!”
I forced my expression to remain neutral even as anger coiled in my stomach. These people needed comfort, not more terror. They needed Christ’s love, not these theatrics.
“He comes in familiar faces,” Forner continued, his voice rising.
“In the neighbor who offers you bread, in the child who asks too many questions, in the maiden who knows too much and moves in the shadows.” His gaze found mine across the nave, satisfaction unmistakable.
“The Devil is cunning. He wraps himself in kindness…and always, in beauty.”
My jaw clenched. He might as well have said Katharina’s name aloud.
“But we—we faithful servants of God—see through his deceptions!” Forner’s arms spread wide, his shadow stretching across the floor. “We know that corruption often wears the face of compassion. That those who claim to heal may in fact be spreading spiritual poison through our community.”
Poor Hermann was trembling now, and Frau Weber’s knuckles were white around her rosary. These people had already lost so much to the trials. They’d lost friends, family, even their very ability to trust. And here was Forner, pouring acid on their wounds and calling it holy water.
“The Devil,” Forner intoned, “requires only the smallest crack in our faith to enter. Just a moment of doubt, a single act of defiance against God’s natural order.
” He paused, letting the words sink in. “And once he finds that crack, he pours himself in like smoke, filling every corner of the soul until the person you knew is gone, replaced by something wearing their face.”
Despite myself, a chill ran down my spine.
“We must be vigilant!” His voice cracked like a whip.
“Report unusual behavior. Report those who seem too fortunate while others suffer. Report those who survive when they should perish.” Another glance at me.
“The Prince-Bishop, in his divine wisdom, has given us the tools to root out this evil. We must not hesitate to use them.”
The sermon continued for another eternal thirty minutes, each word building paranoia, making neighbors suspect neighbors, transforming love into a liability. By the time he finished, my congregation looked hollow, drained, as if he’d fed on their hope like a parasite.
After the parishioners fled—one couldn’t call it anything else—Forner approached me, his angular face gleaming with sweat despite the morning chill.
“Your congregation seems…troubled,” he observed with false concern.
“They’re terrified,” I said flatly, abandoning pretense. “As you intended.”
“Fear of damnation leads to righteousness, Father Heinrich.” He adjusted his collar with skeletal fingers. “Though I wonder if everyone in your…care…understands this.”
“Speak plainly, Vicar.”
His smile widened. “The Müller girl. I’ve heard you have taken her under your wing.”
“Katharina assists with the church’s texts. With the Sisters of Mercy’s work, just as she has—”
“Since her mother burned. Yes.” He stepped closer, and I could smell the hatred on his breath. “Curious, isn’t it? How she survived the pox? How you’ve taken such an interest in her education? When you first came here, I asked you to watch her, not become so…invested in her.”
My hands curled into fists at my sides. “What are you implying?”
“I imply nothing. I merely observe. As does the Bishop. As does God.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she? That golden hair. Those intelligent eyes. Beauty and intelligence—dangerous combinations in a woman. The Devil loves to work through such vessels.”
“Katharina is a faithful Christian who serves—”
“Is that so?” Forner interrupted. “I was young once too, Father. I remember how tempting the flesh could be.”
“I do not appreciate baseless accusations against my—”
He cut me off me again, pulling a small leather journal from his cassock. “I am simply reflecting on my own misguided youth. Although she has spent a great deal of time with you since your arrival.”
“You’re watching her?” The words came out harsh.
“I’m watching everyone, Father Heinrich.”
“If you watch her so closely, you would see she—”
“You know as well as I that, as the Vicar General, I cannot bring forth evidence against the accused.” He twisted his mouth in annoyance. “Not anymore, anyway. That is why I set you on this righteous path.”
“What righteousness is there in false accusations?”
“Careful, Father. Katharina is not the only one in your parish who has been marked.” His eyes glittered with something that might have been madness or faith—in Bamberg, they had become indistinguishable.
“The Devil has his eye on that girl. Whether to use her or work through her remains to be seen.”
He snapped his journal shut before sweeping toward the door, then paused. “Oh, and Father Heinrich? I expect updates on her from now on.”
After he left, I stood alone in the empty church, my hands shaking with rage.
They were circling her like wolves, waiting for any excuse to drag her to the Drudenhaus.
I had seen the hunger in Forner’s eyes. He was beyond reason and had his sights set on Katharina.
I saw now that he would stop at nothing to have her.
And I—sworn to God, bound by my vows—was powerless to stop him.
No, not powerless. I would protect her.
I would choose her over them.
The thought should have horrified me. Instead, it felt like freedom.
Let Forner watch. Let him make his notes. Let him think he was the hunter and Katharina the prey. He had no idea what I would do to keep her safe. How far I would fall to protect her.
The Devil walks amongst us.
Perhaps he was right.
But protecting Katharina from them didn’t feel like a sin. It felt righteous, like a divine light clearing away the smoke I’d been living in for the last two years.