In the Garden of Iden Read Online Free Page B

In the Garden of Iden
Book: In the Garden of Iden Read Online Free
Author: Kage Baker
Tags: Science-Fiction, Romance, Historical, Fantasy, Adult, Extratorrents, Kat, C429
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here!” I tried to yell.
    He looked at another man, who was standing just outside the door. “Why is this?” he asked.
    “Her mother, the woman Mendoza, has not made any provision for her keeping.”
    “She’s not my mama!” I exclaimed. “She bought me from my mama! I don’t have anything to do with her and she’s a witch.”
    “Well, she says she’s your mother,” said the first man.
    “She isn’t either! She is Bad. I am Good. She’s a witch and I told you all and you mean I’ve been stuck in here because nobody listened?” In my rage and frustration I beat my fist against the floor.
    The man regarded me with interest. He was short, stocky, and dark, like a Biscayan, with a close neat beard. His clothes were good but rather sober and nondescript.
    “Days and days down here without any food and you’re pretty mad about that, huh?” he observed. I was so angry, I just stared at him in disbelief.
    He gave a wry sort of smile and glanced over his shoulder at the other man. He gestured. The other man ostentatiously turned his back and stared at the opposite wall. From inside his doublet the Biscayan took a thing like a little book, and from its leaves he extracted something small. With great deftness he slapped it behind my ear before I could see what it was. I reached up to feel it, but he struck my hand away and said:
    “Don’t touch it. Maybe later you’ll get some food, but right now the Holy Inquisition wants to talk to you.”
    “Good,” I said sullenly as he picked me up.
    “You think that’s good?” He raised an eyebrow at me.
    “Yes. I have a lot to tell them.”
    He nodded thoughtfully and said nothing for a while as he carried me through endless stone passageways. Finally we came into a high room, very fine, with paneled walls and a distant ceiling. I felt swell and feared nothing.
    There were three other men in this room, older than the Biscayan. One was a priest. One was dressed all in red. The other was mousy plain and I couldn’t see much of him behind the lectern where his pen scratched. I was put down in a chair, and the others sat at a table to face me.
    “So,” said the priest. “You are the child Mendoza.”
    “No, I’m not,” I said.
    Raised eyebrows. “May we ask who you are, then?” asked the man in red.
    “I got kidnapped by that bad lady, and her name is Mendoza,” I said. “She’s a wicked, terrible, evil lady. And a witch.” The man in red looked interested. The other two exchanged glances. The priest leaned forward and said:
    “Little girl, tell us the truth.” And, that first time, there was nothing terrible in the phrase, no ominous reverberation.
    Well, I told them the truth, the whole story, just as I’d rehearsed it so often in the dark. I enjoyed the attention. They only interrupted me once or twice, to ask questions. I finished quite cheerfully and concluded:
    “Can I go home now, señors?”
    There was no reply. The man in red was flipping through some papers on the table in front of him. “This seems very clear to me,” he said. “Look here, at the inventory of goods taken from the house. A straw image of Satan. Various tools of witchcraft. Stars chalked on the floor.”
    “But how many points on the stars?” asked the priest.
    “Some had five and some had six,” conceded the man in red. The priest smiled tightly. The man in red went on, “Therefore, in my opinion, this is genuine witchcraft. The woman and her confederates were courting the powers of the Prince of Darkness and intended to sacrifice this child at a Sabbat.”
    “Yes,” I confirmed.
    “I think otherwise,” said the priest, ignoring me. “With respect to his Grace, the Holy Office does not concern itself with superstitions. These are modern times, señor. Peasants believe in witchcraft; the odd corrupt nobleman plays at it; but it is not a thing to be feared.”
    “Surely you don’t deny the evidence of the Malleus Malificorum ?” demanded the man in red. His face

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