Hey y'all. I just wanted to take a brief moment to thank my most recent reviewer, Luneara Eclipse! Thank you, I spent a lot of time analyzing and planning the characteristics of Constanze. She is my favorite OC that I've ever created, and I really love that you can feel her vibe. I hope the rest of you enjoy this story as well! There are a lot of different emotions put into this chapter. So cry, laugh, get pissed, whatever you have to do to make it to the next one. But most of all, enjoy!

Chapter 6

There was a knock at the Brunswicks' door. Rising from her seat, while Sybil and Hershel were speaking to each other in the other room, Gretel assembled her walking sticks and stammered to the door. To her surprise (or maybe not so much), she found the dear reverend standing on the other side. "May I come in, Miss Gallows?" he asked.

"Ah, Mister Hale! What a surprise! Please, come in! Come in!" Gretel stood at the open doorway, ushering Hale into their home. He smiled nervously, properly removing his hat before he stepped inside. "Please, have a seat. I'll start the tea; it's Sybil's homemade brew, and it's absolutely to die for."

"Th-thank you," he replied to the giddy old woman. Although a bit on the voracious side, he had to admit that he admired her radiating positivity. And that was precisely what he needed right now.

Aside in the dining area, Sybil spoke quietly to her husband about Constanze's nightmare that she had the previous night. "Hershel… It would appear that Stanzey had a vision last night." There was a sense of concern in Sybil's voice as she whispered. She looked up at him, telling him in detail everything she could remember. There was a short pause.

"You're sure of this?" he asked. He knew a good portion of his wife's family's history and all of its quirks and odds, thus kept it a secret for as long as the two joined together in a holy marriage. Gretel herself foresaw the matrimony between the two of them nearly a year before he proposed. It was odd, and sometimes a bit scary, but real, nonetheless.

"Ay; it was clear as day. I fear that there is prodigious danger lying ahead. Please, do not speak of this to anyone."

"You have my word, Sybil. You know me; I would never risk the well-being of my family. I'll do all I can to keep us out of this mess," he embraced her, "even if my life depends on it." He planted a kiss on her cheek. "I won't say a word."

In the kitchen, Hale sat in the crooked wooden chair as Gretel prepared the dried herbs in thin net pouches. He watched her work as she whispered inaudible things to herself. After a moment, he finally spoke. "Miss Gallows… I know this may be a vague question, but would you mind telling me a bit about your grand daughter, Constanze?" He asked. He felt slightly more at ease with only Gretel in the room, giving him the comfort to ask these types of questions freely.

Gretel grinned, readying the boiling water to pour into the cups. "Oh, my dear Stanzey! I tell you, she's a marvelous girl. She certainly is. And very smart, too. I tell you, she can identify just about every tree in the forest even in the dead of winter." She looked over at him, a gleam of suspicion in her eye. "Why? Are you interested in matrimony?"

Hale's eyes grew wide, blushing slightly at the ridiculed question. He cleared his throat. "N-no. It's just that-"

"I've been telling that girl for months now that she should find a good man to be her husband! She'd make a fine wife, she would, but it seems that the other boys in the village simply aren't suitable for her particular taste. And as young and educated as you are, and being single-"

"How do you know I am not already married?" Hale asked suspiciously. He looked at the old woman with stern eyes. No one in Salem knew of his personal life, not even the highest authorities of the court, who he associated with nearly every day. Everything about this family seemed to scream witchery, but he kept his accusations at bay… for now. They were undoubtedly good people.

Gretel laughed anxiously. "Well, I-" But before she could say anything else, she was cut short by Hershel's approaching footsteps.

"Evening to you, Mister Hale. I saw your carriage outside."

Hale stood up, shaking hands with the gruff and calloused man, who was a good bit taller than him. He had to look up to meet his eyes. "Ay, good evening, Brunswick. I've actually come on behalf of examining of your daughter Constanze." He stopped himself from saying anything more, avoiding the awkward subject that he already spoke to her alone without their consent. His reasoning was short, but he managed not to lie. He was at least relieved of that.

Hershel nodded his head. "She's a bit hot-headed, but ay, she means well. I hope her temperament didn't cause any grief for you."

Hale gave a shaky smile, sipping the cup of tea Gretel had prepared for him. And she was right, it was delicious. He could taste the chamomile infused with other herbs in the brew. "Ay, no grief at all. Is she about?"

Hershel looked out the window to see his daughter feeding their horse. He pointed at the window. "She's there, by the barn. I'd catch her now if I were you. She may run for the woods." Hershel giggled slightly while Hale held his breath and stiffened his shoulders. He prayed that he didn't see her, or him from that matter, flee from that hayshed a little while ago. Her father was… well, large. And his last desire was to get between a working man and his daughter, for whatever the reason. With a grin, Hale nodded and started for the door.

"Oh, Mister Hale?" Sybil asked, stopping him at the door agape. "Won't you stay for supper? Hershel here hunted a fine goose this evening."

He nodded, smiling warmly at their hospitality. "It would be a pleasure." The more time he could spend around this family, the better view he could get of their private, yet mysterious life.

As he walked closer, he saw that Constanze was feeding his own horse an apple from a nearby orchard. "Nearly took my finger off with that. He acts as though he's famished."

Hale nodded. "This journey has been hard on him, as well as I." She sensed certain hollowness in his voice.

Constanze looked over at him with pleading eyes, a sense of guilt welling up from inside her. "Mister Hale, I know not what the vision meant, or why our dreams were connected with each other at the seam. But I do know in my heart that I do not know Satan, nor does anyone in this house. I do hope you believe me. I could not stop it."

Hale looked over at the rolling pastures in the far distance, the wind whipping his hair around his face. After a moment of bleak silence, he spoke. "For whatever reason, I will resolve this. God will give us answers, and only God will bring an end to this fatuity. Tonight, I will research this diabolical illusion; I will find out Satan's grand design, and I will shatter it to pieces. And if it be a witch who casts her evil spell upon us, may God have mercy on her tainted soul. He will not hide here. He will not conquer this province."

Constanze looked out onto her fathers land, wondering what Hale was seeing out in the vast distance that she wasn't. What he didn't know, or seem to understand, was that these visions that he believed to be evil were actually a desirable trait that seemed to run through her bloodline. She has them, her mother has them, and her mother's mother as well as her mother had them. Many times these visions and dreams sheltered their ancestors as well as her immediate family from harm or even death. These visions also helped the long line of Gallows survive in even the harshest conditions by leading them to food and other resources. How on earth could this possibly be considered evil? How she wanted so badly to explain… but she knew if she did, the chance of him or someone else accusing her and her entire family of witchery was immense. The mere fact tore at her soul, and she could not even think to bear the consequences.

She felt a hand rest upon her shoulder. Slightly surprised, she looked up at Hale, who appeared to be on the verge of crying. Her heart swelled with sympathy for him. She knew this was probably one of the most traumatic events he ever had to undergo, being a minister and not only seeing, but feeling such evil from within. "Mister Hale?" she whispered.

"Dear child… won't you join me in prayer?" His eyes were low and his voice was weak. She saw a single tear drip off the end of his nose. If there was one thing she hated most on this earth, besides the madness now massively accumulating in the village, it was to see someone else cry. She felt the lump in her throat grow along with the stinging of oncoming tears in her eyes.

"Ay, sir." She sniffled. She turned to face him while he grasped both her hands in his. She squeezed them tight as she looked down to the grass, choking back tears now as he began to pray.

"Heavenly father, who thou art in Heaven, I call to you asking of your guidance. Give us the strength, dear Lord, to overcome this evil within, and save the afflicted children as well as ourselves from Lucifer. I pray you shower us with your everlasting love and forgiveness in whatever wrong we may have done, if it be thy will. God, bring us the answers we seek. Show us the path of righteousness to save this town. We are forever thankful for the light you have shone upon us. We thank you for the countless blessings you have bestowed upon us. In Jesus' Holy name we pray…" He took breath and sighed heavily as he concluded his grace, "Amen."

"Amen."

On the contrary to the overwhelming stress of the situation, dinner at the Brunswick's was quite lively. The goose that the women prepared was delectable and was quite possibly the tenderest cut of meat Hale had ever had the pleasure to consume. Laughter came often at the dinner table, something that Hale nearly forgot how to do, or even existed. It was an endearing experience for him. It almost made him, if even for a moment, forget about the sorrows of the Salem court. He was astounded at the old woman's stories of when she was a child. She spoke of her past with such avidness and remembered every major event vividly. And my, Hale thought, she was a very strong woman! She spoke of her family's journey to the New World from Europe and how she was the first-born in this region. She also told him of all her past marriages and how she was widowed every time. Hale also learned that Sybil was her only surviving child out of seven, but yet she did not seem to blame superstition in her baby's deaths…

"And when I was but seven years old, my father died when he tried to milk the family cow and took a brute kick to the head!" Gretel laughed.

Hale raised his brow. It's no wonder she'd gone mad, he thought.

"Tell us about yourself, Mister Hale. Have you a family?"

Hale cleared his throat. "Ay; my father is a blacksmith in my home town of Beverly, along with my two younger brothers."

Gretel nudged Constanze with her pointy elbows. "He's got brothers!" she whispered hoarsely.

"Granny!"

Hale chuckled. "Ay. I am a graduate of Harvard College like Mister Parris. I've been studying the demonic arts nearly my entire life and I've pursued my duties as a minister in hopes to annihilate all witches and their disciples." There was a hint of boastfulness in his voice.

Gretel scoffed. "Mister Parris? Surely you needn't compare yourself to that man."

"I'm afraid I don't understand… what ills you against Mister Parris?" Hale asked, a bit disheveled that such a woman would berate an ordained minister.

"Mister Hale," Sybil countered before her mother unintentionally started something they had no desire to finish, "Pardon me if this seems a bit odd, but you see… our family is, well, a bit… different than the rest of Salem."