Author's Note: Hey, guys, been a while (3 years, wow). Anyway, thanks to Esperata's encouragement, and the boost of a new Veggie fic in the Gravedale community, I've finally got around to updating this again. Hopefully, I'll actually follow through this time, and you'll get the next update sooner than 3 years time…
"I mean, they never specified the curse in question," Reggie replied meekly, quailing a bit at Vinnie's tone. "The witch who wrote this journal was more focused on the scandal than the curse Esserfelda used. The coven broke up as a result of the deaths, and the rest of the entries seem to detail her resettling in France with a new coven..."
"Don't mean to be sharp," Vinnie apologized for his outburst, thinking over what Reggie'd just said. "Isn't there some sorta cure-all for curses that'd fix this?" he asked.
"Unfortunately, no," Reggie replied with a sigh. "We'd need more details to find a way to break this, especially since it appears to remain active even after Esserfelda's death."
"What about the witch that wrote this thing?" Vinnie asked. "Wouldn't she know?"
"Vinnie, the Spanish Inquisition took place between 15th into the 19th century. Esserfelda was burnt to death in 1469, before the official start of the Inquisition. Any of the witches surviving the actual Inquisition would have to be at least 500 years old. It's unlikely that any of them are still alive today."
"They have to be from that coven to figure this out?" Vinnie asked.
"Not necessarily," Reggie replied slowly, thinking. "'I'm more versed in the sciences than magic, but it might be possible for an experienced witch to determine the type of curse used by a witch of Esserfelda's class and era..."
"So, we need to find us a witch," Vinnie determined.
"Yes, I suppose we do," Reggie replied, somewhat nervously.
"Well, what are we waiting for?!" Vinnie exclaimed. "Let's get goin'!" he yelled, snatching hold of a sputtering Reggie and tugging him down the spiral stairs before he could manage more than a pitchy "Slow down!" in protest.
Dodging the battered catlady librarian dragging herself up the stairs, they nearly took a tumble, Vinnie's quick reflexes spinning them both around and then out the imposing mahogany doors and into the gloomy noon streets of Gravedale.