Warlock Page #5

That's why you're after

the warlock, isn't it?

Yesterday, you cared not

to know such things.

Yesterday was 20 years ago.

She...

She was...

Your age...

your true age.

What a blessed vision.

A soul as pure as God's own,

my Marion.

She was my good wife.

I thought you said

you weren't married.

'Twas long ago,

even before here I came.

What happened to her?

The warlock happened.

Pray, stop the car.

What's the matter?

Pray, I bid you,

stop the car, girl!

Redferne. The compass.

Leave it!

If God stands with us,

we'll need it no more!

We didn't find him yet, did we?

Well, would you look at this?

Hmm?

The bread. Didn't rise.

Browned, but it didn't rise.

Must've forgotten to...

tell me your woes.

You are bewitched.

Who are you?

The hex mark, is it

yours, or is it not?

Hex mark? What?

I haven't seen a hex

mark in 30 years.

The mark is mine.

Amish?

Mennonite.

And we are bewitched.

From there.

Hither has he come.

Hammer, nails.

Dad, what the devil do

you think you're doing?

Who are these people?

If there are children

present, make them absent.

Take them and leave.

Leave? Wait a minute.

I got a schedule to keep.

I can't just traipse off

and turn this place over...

listen to me.

The horse that sweats

in the morning,

cream that sours overnight.

You know the signs.

We both know.

Fix these pennies here.

'Twill ward off

any errant magic.

On my word,

close and brace the stairs.

You must open them

only when I say.

And should ever

your eyes meet his,

never show him no fear.

'Tis the air he breathes.

Hey.

Careful.

He was here.

"Mortes datoris antipueris. "

He's come for it.

Blessings of heaven,

'tis the Grand

Grimoire he's after!

The spell book.

All witches keep grimoires,

yet one is indestructible.

One is the bible of black magic.

The Grand Grimoire.

Always witches have

lusted for it.

And now here I find a page.

One lone page.

'Twas last held by

a Boston church.

The West End Church.

I had urged them

to third the book,

thus thirding the chance

of a witch thieving it.

But the pages were to be

kept on hallowed ground,

not scattered about

the landside like...

where's the warlock?

He's fled.

I don't get it.

If thing is so

bitchin' to witches,

why would he leave a page?

Even just a page.

He would not.

The steps!

Of all the curiosities

here I've seen,

none have surprised

me more than this.

The brace!

Forgotten witches fly?

I forget nothing.

Who appointed you

executioner, Redferne?

'Twas you yourself...

When one life too many

you did steal.

It seems even 2 thirds

can work marvels.

Why'd you let him go?

Yes!

Remove his boots! His boots!

Where's my goddamn bracelet?

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