Late February

Old Chain of Rocks Bridge

Saint Louis, Missouri

Eldon Andrew Porter was trying desperately to make sense of his current situation.

He knew that he shouldn’t be unsteadily perched here on this cold steel girder high above the icy waters of the Mississippi river. He also knew that he shouldn’t be forced to finish by hand a job meant for, and started by, a hangman’s noose. But the most important thing he knew, without any sense of doubt, was that he was short on time.

What he didn’t know was just how this peril had come to pass.

The thing that kept going through his mind was that this very simply was not how it was supposed to happen. Still, no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t focus on exactly what had gone wrong.

Once again, he mulled through the last few events leading up to this particular moment in time.

He had lured the warlock to the bridge.

He had applied the razors of the Malleus Maleficarum, a mere formality as such, because by the warlock’s own public actions and admissions he was quite obviously guilty of the sin of WitchCraft.

He had even applied the test of “pricking” in order to be certain of the accused one’s guilt. Of course, the warlock had tried to deceive him in this test by screaming out in pain when the ice pick pierced his flesh, but Eldon knew this to be a ruse. A trick used by the impenitent sorcerer in order to avoid his due punishment.

He had not been fooled.

With the warlock’s guilt proven, Eldon had then set forth the judgment as decreed by Almighty God and the Holy Church.

He had proceeded with the sentence by placing the noose about the man’s neck and pronouncing his punishment as death by hanging. And finally, he had executed that sentence by throwing the warlock over the side of the bridge…