Chapter Text
A man of God but also a man of vices and beer was one of them. The priest was hunched over the counter in a pub that could pass for an unkept horse stable. The smell was strong of sweat, piss, and mold, but it was the only pub he had found and the next one would be two days worth of travel away.
“On your way to Volterra, Father?” The bartender asked as he placed a full mug on the counter in front of him.
“Volterra? Whatever for?” He asked, taking a sip from the mug. At least the beer was decent.
“Mm, their locals and their neighbors and their liberal pet peasants are all passing this way from there,” the bartender shared as he places a fresh keg on the stillage. “Isn’t for vacations either.”
“Fleeing from their fair ballots counts and cheap breads, I’m sure,” the priest responded sarcastically.
Italy was facing economic failure and authoritarian-controlled ballots at the time. News of the recent genocide of rioters by the Italian military made it out to neighboring countries.
“Non. Every one that stopped spoke of a different rise in body counts. Witchcraft, they say. The ones that’d stop here on their way from.”
“Witchcraft, how?” The priest’s interest is piqued.
“The dead have been found as nude as the day of their birth, all of them.”
“And dying in the bath is considered witchcraft?”
“Non,” the bartender continued while he busied himself by uselessly wiping the dirty counter with an equally dirty rag. “They’d been found outdoors, heart gone.”
“‘Heart gone’?”
“Oui. Nude, alone, out in the wilderness, and heart missing. Can only be witches, they say.”
“I can see why. Did they also say why they think witches would begin doing it suddenly after being known for as long as history?”
“Non. But I think the witches learned a new trick and needed hearts. Like how we just made the diesel engine.”
“Ah, yes. Quite the comparison,” the priest drawled. The bartender just shrugged.
“They people too, oui? They could be inventing things in the ways of witches,” the bartender rambled on.
“Fascinating that there are those who can include witches as ‘people’, Monsieur.”
The priest stared at his empty glass mug and sighed. A moment of thought and glanced back up, “Volterra, you say?”
__________
The chilled air was stinging despite the sun being at its summit. The horse-led carriage is climbing the hill slowly, following the cobblestone to the village.
Volterra is a hill town, surrounded by grasslands as far as the eye could see. It was a lovely view but the priest never had the time nor the attention for those romantic ideals.
The carriage pulled up to an agriturismo — one of many Italian working farms that offered accommodation and meals to guests.
The priest stepped off the carriage, only a leather bag and a case in tow. He waved his thanks to the rider and made his way to the agriturismo.
As if expecting his arrival, a man opened the door to the home. The man, tan and tall but slightly hunched over with age.
“Buongiorno!” The priest greeted the man.
“Benvenuto!” The man responded, stepping aside to let the priest in. “Just one?”
“Si, only myself.”
The priest looked around, taking in the foyer. The sun’s golden glow was enhanced by the warm tone of the wood beams and yellow-washed stone walls. The dried herbs lined a wall and handmade rugs overlaps at the center. The agriturismo gave a welcoming ambiance, but there was no one other than the priest and the one other man there.
“Signore, business has been good lately?” The priest asked.
“No, signore,” the man replied, handing him a key. “But you are here to remedy that, I hope?”
“I’m here to find out if I can,” the priest smiled. “You are the owner of this fine agriturismo?”
“Si. I run this home, the farm, the kitchen, the barn…” the gestures the priest to follow him.
“That is extraordinary for a single owner to handle. You have help, I hope?”
“Ay, my wife, daughter, and sons runs here too, Father. But… with the dangers, they wanted to leave. I couldn’t. My grandfather build this place. I didn’t want to come back one day to find it gone…” the man explained as they stopped before a door.
“That’s understandable. What can you tell me about the ‘dangers’ that’s been ailing your business, signore?”
“Just the deaths… Death is natural, but not these ones. The villagers going about their day just finding the bodies here and there… there are civil unrest in this lifetime, but this is not the work of politics, Father.”
“Have you come across any of the bodies yourself?”
“No, I have not discovered any myself, but I had seen it as they were taken back to the doctor’s office by the authorities to be looked at.”
“Very good. Can you tell me where I could find the office, if you don’t mind, Signore?”
“Si, of course. Let me go write down the directions for you. Please settle your things in your room, I’ll be right back. My name is Giuseppe by the way.”
“A pleasure, Giuseppe. If only under better circumstances.”
“Si, I agree.”
__________
The cobblestone street was lined with life; grass, trees, and flower shrubs. Even the walls had life where the vines climbed. The only life there was on the otherwise barren streets.
The locals had either left or hidden in their homes. The priest was rather glad Giuseppe had written down the directions to the doctor’s office since there wouldn’t have been anyone around for him to ask for directions.
He knocks on the door to the doctor’s office. The wooden sign engraved ‘Studio Medico’ cemented on the stone wall.
The door opened and a bald man in a white medical coat and reading spectacles peered at the priest.
“Can I help you?” The doctor asked in a weary tone.
“Si, Signore. I am here on behalf of the Vatican to bless the dead and give them their Last Rites to purify their souls for eternal heaven,” the priest smiled innocently up the doctor who just stared at him.
“Are you?” The doctor flatly asked, but it came out rather rhetoric.
“Yes, of course! May I see them?”
The doctor lets out an exasperated sigh and stepped back, allowing the priest entry.
“Thank you, doctor!” The priest cheerfully said, “Has your duties been fair to you as of recent?”
“You would think so with everyone either dead or gone from the country, but alas, even the dead needed tending to. I still have to perform an autopsy for each and every one of them, you know?” The doctor dryly stated as he lead the way to the examination room.
“Nasty work, I suppose?”
“On the contrary, it is cleaner than an ill, live person emptying their stomach on you.”
“Happens often?”
“You’d be surprised. Here we are.”
The doctor opens the door to the examination room. There are six covered bodies on gurneys at the center of the room.
“Are there more?”
“Yes, many, but we can’t leave them laying around to rot.” The doctor turned on the lights.
“How many were there in all?” The priest lifted up a cover from one of the cadavers.
“Only thirty-two here.”
“Here…?” The priest snapped his head up at the information.
“Thirty-two were the only found within this village border. The rest are beyond it.”
“Do you know exactly how many?”
“No, I don’t go out of my way to follow that closely to other villages’ or hamlets’ affairs.”
“Understandable! You have your own hands busy here.”
“If you have any more questions, I will be at my desk. Take all the time you need.”
“Much appreciated, doctor. Thank you very much.” The priest grinned.
Once alone, he took off all of the covers from the cadavers and compared them.
Men and women. Ages varied, youngest being early 20’s and oldest possibly mid-60’s. The Modus Operandi is the precise opening in their chest where their heart should be. There was no visible indication of a knife used to cut the skin or if another tool was used — it was as if someone just reached into the chest and ripped out the organ.
The priest’s brows furrowed. He pulls out his magnifying glass and continued to examine the cadavers closely for any markings, pattern of bruises or cuts that would be out of the ordinary.
Within half an hour, the priest approaches the doctor in his office and noted ‘Dr. J. Stefan’ on the glass door.
“Are you done, Father?” Dr. Stefan asked.
“Yes, but if you don’t mind, I have one more question.”
The doctor only raises a brow.
“Where were the locations of the bodies when they were found?”
Dr. Stefan pulls out a file and skimmed through some pages before pulling one out.
“Here is a map marked with numbers where the bodies were found. This does not leave my office.”
“Of course. I understand. Uh, let me make a note of it for myself if you don’t mind.” The priest took out a blank paper and pen of his own and hastily drew a crude replica of the map of Volterra.
“You know, I have a blank map of the village you can use if you’re interested…” Dr. Stefan said flatly.
“… yes. I would be very interested… thank you.”