“I don’t know, I honestly don’t know,” Hunter finally replied.
Chapter Twenty-one
The black window lightened to the cold grey of predawn. Hunter shifted, feeling stiff from his uncomfortable sitting position on the wooden floor. His eyes were gritty and he was tired - he and James had taken turns to keep watch while the other slept.
Hunter got up with a groan and looked out the window. It was still too dark to see anything. He traced the window again, reading the magic - it had a skill and a sense of logic that he’d not seen before. He knew that it was the Shadow Witch’s handiwork. And that only she could break it.
“Is it tomorrow?” James asked with a yawn.
“I guess so.” Hunter replied, looking at his watch out of habit. He frowned, the bloody expensive thing had stopped. It was stuck on a minute after 8pm.
They heard the bolt being drawn on the door and James jumped to his feet. The door opened and the same witch from last night came in with two male witches, standing with her like a pair of heavies.
“The Shadow Witch wants to see you,” she said.
They both stepped forward, sharing the opinion that they might as well get it over with.
“No. Just you,” she said, pointing at Hunter.
Her companions walked up to Hunter and, in a repeat of last night, he was abruptly handcuffed behind his back.
“Handcuffs again? You never told me Sophie was the kinky sort.”
“James, I’ve already told you, not now,” Hunter said, before being roughly pushed out of the room.
As the door was closed and locked behind him, he heard James call out, “What, no brekkie?”
As inappropriate as the situation was, Hunter couldn’t help but smile. He’d never appreciated more, James’ determination to have one last joke before death claimed them. He shouldn’t be here, Hunter shouldn’t have let him, he should have stayed in the relative safety of Astley Manor.
But Hunter never did have any control over James. It was maddening, how Hunter could walk into a room of the best witch-hunters and wave his 7th gen status, and they would usually respect, follow, obey etc.
But James? From the day he’d met him, James seemed to purposefully ignore and wind Hunter up, yet he always did the right thing.
Down the fancy corridor again, he was taken further this time. The lead witch finally stopped and knocked on a door.
A few moments passed, and then the door was opened from the inside. Hunter recoiled in shock at the sight of the woman who held it open for them. Tall, graceful with dark brown hair and an ageless beauty. Beverley Murphy.
“Bev?” He gasped.
Bev turned her eyes to the floor, looking so meek compared to the fierce, but friendly mum they’d visited. The older woman muttered her excuses and left, sparing Hunter a single glance. Hunter was left with the idea that she was somehow angry, or perhaps just disappointed with him.
The door closed, shutting Bev from sight as she hurried down the corridor. Back in the room, Hunter noticed the soft-looking chairs, a roaring fire and a table with breakfast on. Three things that hypnotised him after a cold, uncomfortable night.
“I have brought Astley, ma’am.” The lead witch said with a note of pride, and Hunter had the impression that it was all she could do not to bow or curtsy to the Shadow Witch.
Sophie was sitting close to the fire and turned her head to look at the group. “Bring him here.”
Hunter was (unnecessarily) shoved towards Sophie. Sophie looked him over with those cold, analytical eyes of hers.
“You may go,” she said, dismissing the others.
The witches hesitated, and again it was the female witch that spoke, but hesitantly, as though she feared offending Sophie, or revealing some ignorance.
“Please, ma’am - he - surely it is safer for us to stay.”
Sophie glared at the witch, an aura of power rising threateningly. “I can manage Astley. Now go.”
The witch frowned, unconvinced, but obediently left the room, with her heavies in tow.
The Shadow Witch, or Sophie, which should she now be known by? She waited for the other witches to leave then set her eyes solidly on Hunter, her expression lightening with a familiarity that seemed sinful now.
“You look terrible,” she said with a frown, looking at the bruises and half-healed cuts that decorated any skin on show.
“I ran into a few of your new friends at the prison,” Hunter answered irritably.
“I’d hardly call them friends. As for new - I have known them a lot longer than I’ve known you.”
“Saw your mother outside. Is she part of your little army too?” Hunter spat bitterly.
“My mother is here of her own free will. She had every right to be a part of this. And before you ask, yes, she is a witch, although her powers were bound before she was born. Now, will you join me for breakfast - a cup of coffee at least?” Sophie asked, as though everything were normal.
“It’s kind of difficult to hold a cup behind my back,” Hunter replied pointedly.
“Oh, of course.” She rose from her seat in a graceful movement, stepping next to him at once.
Tired as he was, Hunter forced himself to remember that this was the Shadow Witch as he breathed in that familiar, enticing scent. There was a faint click and the cuffs fell away from his wrists.
“I’m sorry, but I’m sure you understand, it’s for my colleagues’ safety,” Sophie said gently, then returned to her seat with a smile.
“One question,” Hunter said, his voice rough.
“Just one?”
“For now.”
Sophie watched him carefully. “Ok then. Why don‘t you sit down?”
Hunter sat slowly, hating the soft, comfy seat and having an odd déjà vu of when Sophie had first come to Astley Manor seeking his help. “Answer me truthfully, is Sophie, my Sophie, the Shadow Witch?”
She sighed. “Your Sophie is, and always has been, the Shadow Witch.”
Hunter took a deep breath, and sat silently.
Sophie watched him with cool curiosity. “Help yourself to coffee and toast - if you’re in the mood for something else, I’m sure I can magic it up.”
Hunter ignored her dry humour. He looked suspiciously at the pot of coffee, but didn’t take any, wary of poison and potions. He turned his gaze back to Sophie, she was still cold, beautiful, intelligent - but everything had changed. She was now the enemy. The Shadow Witch, against whom they all fought. The woman responsible for plunging the world into chaos and darkness.
“Come now, Hunter,” Sophie said bitterly. “You’re not going to sulk, are you?”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
Hunter gazed unflinchingly at the young woman. “Everything. Why did you pretend to be a hunter? Why am I here? Why haven’t you killed me yet?”
And more, unspoken questions hung tangibly in the air, why did you get so close, was it all a pretence?
“Everything is a lot to tell, Hunter, you’ve already accused me of gloating, why should I indulge you?” Sophie sat, quite unperturbed, casually continuing with her breakfast.
“Back in Italy, I saved you from witches. Was that planned?” Hunter persevered.
Sophie seemed to be measuring him up, then suddenly smiled more openly than Hunter had ever seen. “You really want to know, to hear every devious detail?”
“Tell me.”
“Ok. I wanted to learn from my natural enemies, the best way I possibly could. So I planned a little sacrifice with me as the innocent victim, then I would use my ample negotiating skills to become a witch-hunter - what better way to learn about the MMC than to be part of it.
“I chose to stage it in Venice, back in the ‘old country’ one could say, it would all be safer and easier to pull in an Italian witch-hunter, away from my roots. Which is where you messed things up.” Her eyes flicked up on him, she looked half-amused, half-angry. “You, of all witch-hunters, Astley, so closely tied to my family. Y
ou turned up and were my hero, slaying the evil witches and rescuing me from certain death. I was so angry that I could have killed you there and then, and blown everything we’d worked towards.”
“So what, you allowed other witches to get killed to make the scene more believable?” Hunter asked, disgusted.
“You really think me that cruel, that ambitious as to sacrifice my own kin?” Sophie asked with a soft shake of her head. “No. Although we were not short of volunteers. The male you killed was a bewitched wiccan, there for you to get your blood quota. The two females were witches, under orders to make sure it all ran smoothly and then to surrender. After all, they knew they’d be free to fight again.”
Hunter was suddenly hit with an array of memory - his own research into a wiccan found with witches, the arson attack, Charlotte commenting on the increase in bound witches… they all knew they would get released and restored.
“What, should I applaud you for your ingenuity?” Hunter asked bitterly, feeling a wave of nausea and shame. He’d fallen for it, every part. He’d killed a human - a wiccan albeit, but human all the same. He felt sick.
“No,” Sophie mused. “But I would like to thank you, for pulling strings with the Council and getting me a place as a 1st gen.”
“Brian. You killed him.” It wasn’t a question, the truth was hovering there in front of Hunter.
Sophie shrugged, “It was very frustrating. For one exciting moment I thought you’d take me on - I would have the chance to fool the best there was, it was thrilling. But perhaps it was best that I went to Brian first, his senses were so unevolved compared to yours, I didn’t have to worry about slipping up as much.
“He taught me a lot, even though he was a condescending sexist bastard. I often struggled to stay calm when he treated me as less than nothing - I, the greatest witch for almost a century. But I was willing to put up with it.
“Then I found out that Brian was doing work and research on the side, he’d made links with the unusual events that we had not completely covered. He was getting too close and needed removing, along with all his work. I have a certain skill for pure destruction, as you saw at his house. I had to make sure that everything was eradicated, I didn’t want the MMC knowing that a Shadow had risen. Not until I was ready.”
Hunter couldn’t help but smile ruefully, good old Brian, the grumpy old sod would’ve been pleased to be so inconvenient. “You slipped up, we got the info and discovered the return of the Shadow Witch.”
She nodded in fair agreement, but her smile didn’t fade. “Yes, and thank you again, this time for taking me in. I admit that at first I wanted to destroy all the information, but that would draw unnecessary attention. So instead I spent the next week, on your orders, searching for anything important in the notes and reports, then secretly removing anything that was too obvious. It was rather interesting to learn about what I was from a witch-hunter’s perspective.”
“We still found out though.” Hunter argued, remembering vividly the night after Brian’s memorial service.
“I underestimated you,” Sophie admitted. “But it didn’t matter in the end, you learnt nothing that would endanger me and your MMC refused to act. In fact, it worked out better than I could have ever dreamt - I got to see what protection and weapons you had to use against me. It was pitiful.”
“Then let me guess, you left as soon as possible and struck and now you’ve won,” Hunter said bitterly, not wanting to hear more of her gloating confessions, yet desperate for answers.
“As soon as possible,” Sophie repeated under her breath with a hint of regret that surprised Hunter.
“So, now you’ve revealed all your evil doings, are you going to cackle madly and kill me?”
“Evil?” Sophie asked, almost sadly. “Do you really think me evil? You think I’ve done this to hurt you? I have done what is right for my kind - freeing them from persecution by you and your bloodthirsty Council. You - you demand that we witches do not live by our nature, that we should be vilified because we are something more than you. What gives you and the MMC the right to impose morals and judgement on what you don’t understand?”
Hunter didn’t meet her eye, he didn’t want to get into a moral debate, especially with someone that presented their facts so civilly.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he reminded her.
Sophie hesitated. “They want you dead. The others, the witches’ council. They fear that I grew too close to you and they want proof that I can kill the best the witch-hunters have. They argue that your death will be the ultimate blow for the remnants of the MMC and will further boost our morale and power.”
She paused, and when she spoke again it was with carefully restrained anger, her hazel eyes blazing. “And how I long to kill you Astley. How I have cursed you every day of my life for what your family took from the witchkind, from me.”
Again, hesitation. Sophie shrugged, the anger fading quickly as she fell back into her cushioned chair. “But I’m not going to kill you. Instead I’m going to offer you something. To join the witches, instead of fighting them. Together we can create a greatness that will eclipse everything that has gone before. We will build the world to our standard. You would be a ruler, answering to no one - except me of course.”
Hunter sat in a state of shock. He definitely hadn’t been expecting that. To never have to await MMC approval again, to switch to the winning side, to have Sophie with him. It was incredibly tempting. His mouth was dry as he responded.
“Ah, no, I’m going to turn you down because I don’t want to sell my soul. Besides, I don’t think your witchy pals would agree to a witch-hunter in their ranks, especially when you say they’re all so keen to see me dead.”
Sophie smiled at his goading reply, which was a rather disconcerting reaction.
“Have you ever heard of the Benandanti?” She suddenly asked.
Hunter scowled, but finally agreed to reply. “No.”
“Let me tell you a little story.”
“Another one?” Hunter snorted.
Sophie ignored him and started to speak again. “In Friuli, Italy, there was a small peasant group called the Benandanti. They lived simply enough, with one special feature, they protected themselves and those around them from witches, and had been doing so for centuries. This was a very elite group, one couldn’t just join the Benandanti, one had to be born into the clan. They were special, bred to repel witches; they were stronger, faster, could even detect magic being used. They could travel far distances in a blink, they could change the world around them to chase off, or even destroy witches.
“They lived peaceful little lives with surrounding villages. But they were discovered by witch-hunters and, in self-reflection saw that they had become what they most feared. Witches.”
Hunter frowned, an uneasy feeling about where this was heading.
“Don’t you see? Did you never wonder what the witch-hunter generations were leading to? What you are, a 7th gen?” Sophie asked, excited now, leaning forward with her eyes glittering. “Just think of the possibilities.”
Hunter let the flickering fire in the grate distract him, watching the sparks from the logs. Stronger, faster. He knew that he was gifted - an unheard of 7th gen. No one knew what he was capable of. But having magic?
“Nice theory. But I think you’re a couple of generations early. I’m no witch.”
“Have you ever tried?” Sophie questioned. “It didn’t come easily to me when my powers were first awoken. It took months to gain control. And I know it is you, I have seen you use magic with my own eyes.”
This made Hunter pay attention. “What? I’ve never-”
“Hallowe’en.” Sophie interrupted. “At the church. I had the key from Charlotte and every piece of information I needed, so pulled in our best witches to finish off you and James - you had both outlived your uses. Then I felt something I didn’t understand, a huge build-up of magic that I didn’t recognise. And such a release to rival even my own. Th
en I saw amongst the rubble and bodies you, standing alone and untouched with an aura of magic that outclassed so many.”
Hallowe’en. Hunter had tried not to think about it, it was too painful. But it all came rushing back with amazing clarity. Charlotte lying there as though asleep, then out of the silence James alerting him to the witches. There had been so many, by all logic he should have been killed that night. But Hunter had been so distraught that at the time he had acted without thinking. Afterwards he had not thought about it, the eerie lack of magic as the church blew apart. He and James had assumed that it was the work of the Shadow Witch.
“You’re lying.”
“No Hunter, I’m not,” Sophie replied softly.
“Do the others know this?”
“No.” Sophie admitted. “They think you’re just a normal witch-hunter that I like to toy with. Please, Hunter, this is the only way – it’s either live like a god with me, or be killed by the others.”
Hunter watched her carefully, she wasn’t threatening him, it was more of a warning. But what did she care if he lived or died, after all he was just a plaything.
“And what about James?”
“What about him?” Sophie said impatiently, not wanting to get off topic. “His fate was sealed when he came here, I couldn’t save him if I wanted to. Besides, he’s not important, you are.”
Hunter looked at her with disbelief. How could he ever have thought he could love her. This amoral women that had murdered Brian, Charlotte, and would throw away James’ life so easily.
“Promise you’ll think on it. Just remember that I can only keep you safe for a day at the most.”
Sophie looked away to the door and Hunter felt a ripple of magic in the air, he tensed, but nothing happened.
“Relax, I’ve just called the others. They’ll take you back to your room unharmed,” Sophie said, standing up.
Hunter heard the click of the door handle and he sprang from his seat. Unarmed and outnumbered, this was still his best chance.
As though reading his desperate thoughts Sophie rushed forward and grabbed him, with a surprising force she turned him towards her and suddenly kissed him.
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