The Witch's Doll ⚢

Chapter 23

A/N
A little late, but here's the update! :)

Isla furrowed her eyebrow at the unexplainable circumstances on this day. After Evonnie pulled her into the janitor's closet, Isla called her chauffeur to drive them towards the cathedral from the neighboring town.

Perhaps, Isla would start with the elections work tomorrow once Henri's death would become old news. She must not forget to focus on reviewing for her other exams and in between, she could work on analyzing Alessandra Adams' penmanship.

When the car arrived, Evonnie had to get into the car discreetly as possible. She still looked conspicuous and Isla refrained so hard not to strangle her with the seatbelt. Luckily for Evonnie, they arrived at church none too soon.

Evonnie brought two five-liter water bottles placed for dispensing machine at the entrance of the church.

"Lady Cecil?" A priest in his late thirties came to them after he was called by the church's servants. "It's been so long since I saw you. Is it an urgent confession you're after?"

"No, thank you," Isla said, noticing a small gold ring rested around the priest's finger, decorated with three small red rubies—barely visible to the naked eye. "My sins are too many and varied to mention, and frankly I intend to continue sinning so I won't waste your time. It's my friend who needs to speak with you privately."

The priest stared at Evonnie, waiting for her to start.

"Father, I'm looking for Agua Bendita—err I mean, holy water. My sister, Marie Lu told me to you can help."

"Oh, of course," a ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. "What packaging would you want it, my child?"

"Refill it here!" Evonnie said as the priest grabbed both bottles motioned for them to follow them to the church's kitchen.

"Evonnie," Isla blanched. "Did you merely want a refill of blessed mineral water?"

"Shh! You are sworn to secrecy to never speak about this!"

"Oh, I won't," Isla said. "The affairs of the church and how they collect their funds from the people are in their own accord. The enigma of your actions today proves to be too much for me. Is it too much to ask why?"

Evonnie's eyes widen slightly before she gained control of her facial muscles to steel herself into a more neutral expression. Slowly and deliberately, she began to answer the question with another question. "Isla, is it just me, or do you hate the church as much as Alessa?"

"Does questioning the church like that equal to hatred?"

"I just had a feeling. Your tone's very different. If you're just neutral it wouldn't sound like that."

"Point taken," Isla cleared her throat. "So Miss Adams... she hates the church as well?"

"She was brought up in a strange orphanage." Evonnie began but in a soft voice, in order not to offend anyone who might be listening. "And the people who reside there are even stranger—not the children, but the nuns and priests. Alessandra told me that they are fanatically religious."

"To believe in God is a good thing, a right thing," Isla said. "But when you reinforce your belief with words you take from the Old Testament that you seek out, and interpret in the ways that suit your needs best; that is hypocrisy, and is that exactly what that orphanage does?"

"Yes," Evonnie said, her eyes mirroring a shared sorrow. "There was this old man in a nearby estate that was dying, but every Sunday he is carried into the church either in his wheelchair, and he donates a share of his yearly income, to the church. So naturally, he is very welcomed. He paid to have the orphanage built, he bought all the stained-glass windows, bought all the blocks and cement, he controls the minister and his sermons, for he is paving his way to heaven with gold, and if St. Peter can be bribed; he will surely gain entrance. In that church, he is treated like a god himself, or a living saint. And then he comes home, feeling completely justified in doing anything he wants, because he has done his duty, and paid his way, and therefore he is safe from hell."