“Little Hanting.” One of the kids backed him up.
“Yeah, there.”
Hunter had to stop himself from stepping back. He’d killed people, of course he had, but he never liked associating those people with a life and loved ones. Even if the people were witches, and their loved ones were obnoxious children.
James read his friend’s hesitation and stepped in before anyone else noticed. “Ok, so are you gonna explain how that brings you ‘ere? Because you have two options – you can surrender and be bound; or you can piss off.”
“Or we can kill you!” The leader shouted, riled up by their dismissal. “We out-number you!”
“Not going to happen, kid.” Ian stated calmly, crossing his arms and staring the youth down.
The boy tried to keep eye contact, but quickly dropped it.
“Last chance, go home, or we’ll be forced to subdue and bind you.” Hunter warned, silently wondering if any of his team had brought the necessary items to carry out a binding. Personally, he might have one amulet and silk in one of his many pockets, but since the rebellion, things had turned violent. Hunter’s first instinct was no longer to bind a witch – a worrying acknowledgement.
“We ain’t afraid of you.” The spotty girl snapped.
“You should be.” Alannah answered. “Maybe not of Hunter, he’s the good guy. But definitely the rest of us.”
She pulled out one of her knives, turning it in clear view of the group. “Ian’s been known to wrench the odd limb from its socket; Maria will shoot you between the eyes before you can even begin to cast; and James – you don’t want to know what he’s been accused of.”
Her lovey Welsh voice grew colder as she spoke, and as she carried on the teenagers’ resolution began to waver. They exchanged worried glances.
Noticing his friends’ loss in confidence, the leader turned back to the witch-hunters, furiously pulling a spell together.
Hunter felt the build-up – raw emotion giving it more strength but less stability. He threw up his shield just in time to block the magic as the youth released it. The magic exploded against his shield and bounced back, knocking the boy and his friends flat on their backs.
They scrambled up quickly enough, nothing hurt save their egos.
“Go home and learn what you’re doing before you challenge us.” Hunter insisted.
The leader stepped forward again, but the spotty girl and another gangly lad grabbed his arms and pulled him back. With an awful lot of noise and pushing, the group made a hasty retreat.
“You’ve got to admire their courage.” Alannah remarked, returning her knife to her belt.
“I can’t believe how scary you are for a short person.” James remarked. “But what on earth were you about to accuse me of?”
Alannah flashed him a smile. “Best you don’t know.” She purred.
Hunter ignored their banter and the laughter that followed, he turned to lead his group back out into the open. It troubled him that –
“Stop it right there, Hunter.” Maria warned as she hurried to walk beside him.
“Stop what?” Hunter hesitated in his stride, wondering what was wrong.
“You – worrying about those kids.” Maria explained.
“But how…?”
“You were looking all pensive.” Maria said with a shrug. “We don’t need you moping again.”
Her dry statement made Hunter smile. “It’s just… they are so young. Too young to be in this fight.”
Maria glanced over her shoulder at the other three members of the team; Ian walked along silently, while James and Alannah still joked at the back. It was a good team, they were all in their prime, and the best at what they did.
“How old were you when you started being a witch-hunter?” Maria suddenly asked him.
Hunter paused, knowing where this was going. “I was twenty.”
Maria rolled her eyes. “Sure, you just turned twenty and suddenly you’re a witch-hunter. When did you start training?”
“Actually, physically training – probably about thirteen.”
“And I bet you were just itching to start earlier than that.” Maria pressed her advantage. “I mean, my dad always told me how I was playing soldiers with the local boys when I was five years old.”
Much to Hunter’s relief, their conversation was drawn to a close by the arrival of twenty soldiers on the scene.
Hunter greeted the lieutenant in charge. “False alarm. Just a few weak witches that didn’t realise where they were – when they did, they scarpered.”
The lieutenant looked ill-at-ease. “Shall we track them down, sir?”
Hunter shook his head. “No, they are not worth our effort.”
“But sir, our orders are to capture or kill any witches found.” The lieutenant stated boldly. “Even ‘weak’ ones may have information.”
“I said no, lieutenant.” Hunter snapped. “I will report this incident directly to the General, he will agree with my decision.”
Hunter wasn’t entirely convinced of his argument. General Hayworth was a decent man, and there was a good level of mutual respect between them, but what if he disapproved of letting the youths go…
Oh well, what was the worst that could happen – they could hardly kick him out of the headquarters and his own house. And putting any kind of restraint on him was impossible, he could blink out of any attempt of confinement. Not that he thought it would resort to such things.
His team shifted closer to him, anticipating that they would travel with Hunter now that business was finished. But Hunter gave a minute shake of his head, and they stopped in place. His team might prefer the quick route home, but Hunter thought it advisable to walk back with the extra soldiers, in case any of them disobeyed, or if any of the kids were foolish enough to come back.
Falling into an unhurried march, Hunter found Alannah next to him.
“Well done for, you know…” Hunter trailed off.
“Dim prob.” Alannah replied. “I’m always happy to scare and intimidate.”
Hunter smiled as he looked down at the youngest and least intimidating member of the team.
“I can understand why they wanted to fight.” Alannah continued. “A few years ago, I was that foolhardy, though I knew it all and that I was invincible. I got into a few scrapes, but I was lucky – Timothy Jones pulled me out of the worst of it and trained me properly. That desire to fight doesn’t leave you, though.”
“I blame Harry Potter.” James piped up as he jogged on to catch up with them. At their disapproving glares, he pressed his point. “No, really, a bunch of pubescent witches and wizards defy and destroy the bad guy.”
Hunter marched along; he supposed the comparison made some sense. “So, does that make me Voldemort?”
“Sure.” Alannah replied, warming to the theme.
“You’ve got the looks for it.” James added.
Hunter raised his hand to his thick black hair, which honestly needed a cut. “I assume you mean the Tom Riddle phase?”
“Nah.”
“Does that make us your Death Eaters?” Ian asked, breaking his usual silence.
“And what does that make Sophie?” Maria added.
“Dumbledore?” James ventured, making everyone laugh.
“Ew, no.” Alannah squirmed. “Because that means they, you know…”
“Well, Dumbledore was gay.” Ian answered.
There was a pause, before everybody laughed together. A few of the soldiers marching ahead turned to look back and see what the noise was about. Hunter coughed and looked to his team.
Chapter Twelve
One night in the middle of August, Hunter found himself unable to sleep. It could have just been the summer heat that made it uncomfortable, but he felt something foreboding nagging at his senses.
Finally, he dragged himself out of bed, and padded barefoot downstairs to the library. It quickly became a habit now, that when he did not know what to do, he headed to the library in the
hope that the next book would yield answers to his problems.
There had been a few hints from his research, but nothing solid. That the Benandanti could walk through dreams, that they could control the elements and manipulate the world around them. But no one mentioned how. He supposed only a desperate and heretical witch-hunter like himself would wish to know the dynamics.
As he entered the library, he tried for the umpteenth time to spark a little life and light in the now defunct light bulb. It wasn’t much, to heat the tungsten by exciting the atoms. But no matter how logically he broke it down, Hunter couldn’t make the slightest difference.
He thought back to the first time he had transported himself, the first time he had used his shield. It had all happened so easily then, so why was it so hard now? Did he honestly have to wait for his life to be endangered before he unlocked more powers? Or was this it?
Hunter moved to settle down to do more reading but froze. It was so faint, that at first, he thought it was his sleep-deprived imagination. But no, there was the familiar pain that radiated through his brain. Someone was using magic. Hunter got to his feet and focused on it. The source was fifteen miles to the North, only just within range for him to detect.
Before he could even think of getting a team together and investigating, Hunter worked out why this felt so odd. Fifteen miles. He remembered talking to Sophie in this very library, about how a witch-hunter perceives magic. About how he could detect further than the lesser generations. And how far had they agreed he could sense magic?
This was for him. Someone wanted him alone to know that they were there. Before common sense got the better of him, Hunter took a deep breath and focused on the site of the source.
One moment he was in the library. The next he was in the woods that stretched most of the way between Little Hanting and the nearest town.
“Sophie?” He called out, stepping forward. Hunter stopped abruptly, feeling the dewy grass beneath his feet. Barefoot again, damn it. He glanced down to confirm that he was still in his scruffy grey pyjamas.
“Sophie’s not here.” A familiar voice called back, as a figure stepped forward.
Tall and willowy like her daughter, with the same dark brown hair. Beverley Murphy.
“Bev? What are you doing here? Is Sophie alright?” Hunter rattled off before he could help himself.
In the darkness Bev smiled, her assumptions correct on how this man still felt about her daughter.
“She’s fine, Hunter.” Bev replied. “I’m here to pass on a message: yesterday she gave birth to a healthy baby boy.”
Hunter was struck silent, and after a minute he reminded himself to breathe. He had known that Sophie was pregnant, had known that this day would come. But it was still a shock. He was a father.
“A boy?” He repeated, unable to bring together a more coherent sentence.
“Yes.” Bev smiled at the thought of her first grandchild. “Sophie named him Adam.”
“Adam?”
“You didn’t expect her to call him George, did you?” Bev gave him a shrewd look. “Sophie has had trouble enough hiding the fact that you’re the father.”
Hunter frowned at this information. “The witches don’t know?”
Bev glanced away into the dark woods. “The few that do know decided that it was best the truth was hidden. They don’t want the masses to know that their heroic Shadow Witch might have formed an emotional bond with their enemy.”
“Sounds familiar.” Hunter muttered. Then his eyes narrowed in Bev’s direction. “Sophie took a risk sending you, I could have killed you. Why didn’t she come herself?”
Bev crossed her arms defensively. “Sophie gave birth yesterday, she’s at home recuperating with her new-born son. I was the obvious choice of messenger – you know me, and I, well…”
“You helped me and James escape.” Hunter finished, knowing that Bev was telling the truth. She was the one witch he would be willing to listen to. “Thank you, by the way.”
Bev shrugged off his thanks. “And Sophie wanted me to… renew her offer.”
“The offer where I switch to the side that was willing to kill my best friend?” Hunter returned.
“If you joined us, what is left of the witch-hunters would crumble and yield. You could end this war; you could save so many lives.” Bev near begged.
“Do you really believe that I am that important?” Hunter demanded. “Each and every witch-hunter is driven by their own desire to do what is right and good. I could disappear tomorrow, and they would still fight on.”
Bev remained silent, as though she had expected this reaction, even as she hoped for better.
Hunter took a deep, calming breath. “If Sophie’s so desperate to join forces, tell her to bring a white flag and re-join the MMC.”
Bev tutted at the younger man’s suggestion. “As if they would accept her. You have more in common with witches than she has with the witch-hunters.”
The scene fell silent, Hunter and Bev stood facing each other without speaking as another long minute dragged on.
Eventually, Bev was the one to break the silence. “If there is nothing else, I should be getting home.”
Hunter realised that if he had any true conviction, he should stop her, apprehend her for witch-craft, kill if necessary. But instead he just nodded.
“Is there any message you would like me to pass on to my daughter?” Bev asked.
“Tell her… tell her that I…” Hunter grimaced as he broke off. “Never mind. Goodbye Bev.”
Before he could break and show emotion, Hunter blinked back to the Manor.
Leaving Bev in the woods. The sound of a sob broke through the night air. Beverley turned to the sound, to find her daughter behind one of the trees.
“I told you not to stay, my darling.” Bev said in a hushed voice.
Sophie tilted her head back, taking deep breaths to restore her calm. She brushed the tears from her cheeks, then held her hand out to her mother. Her hazel eyes burnt all the brighter, and they too were gone.
Chapter Thirteen
Hunter blinked back to the library, hoping that way no one would notice his absence. But as he made his way upstairs, the house was quiet and his caution unnecessary.
Instead of heading for his own room, Hunter stopped at James’ and knocked on the door. Hunter leant against the doorframe, waiting for James to get his arse out of bed, and was surprised to hear muffled voices from the room.
A minute later, the door cracked open and James’ head popped round. He squinted in the bad light until he recognised his friends.
“Oh Hunter, it’s you. What’s up?”
“I was hoping we could talk.”
“What, now? It must be two in the mornin’.” James grumbled, then sighed resignedly. “Fine, what is it?”
“Let’s go downstairs, I think I need a drink. Plus, it’s kind of private.” Hunter said, pointedly looking at the door and whoever James was trying to hide behind it.
“Alright, let me just… let me put summat on.” James replied, then shut the door in Hunter’s face.
Hunter could hear voices and movement, and then the door opened, and James was back.
Despite being plagued by thoughts of tonight, Hunter smirked as James tightened the tie on his robe.
“What?” The Yorkshireman demanded.
Then the door opened behind him and a familiar figure shuffled out, half asleep, and with a white guest robe about her.
“Maria?” Hunter started.
“Ugh, now you’ve woke me up, I need the loo.” Maria muttered. “Don’t keep James all night.”
Hunter watched in silence as the blonde woman padded barefoot down the corridor to the nearest bathroom.
“I’m surprised, that’s not who I expected to come out.” Hunter admitted.
“What?” James repeated.
“Well, you and Alannah always seemed so chummy, I thought…”
James frowned. “Alannah? Nah, we’re just friends. C
ome on, I thought you wanted a drink?”
Before Hunter could interrogate him on his love life and further, James led the way downstairs to the drawing room. Once inside, Hunter made a beeline for the drink’s cabinet.
“Whisky?” James warily watched Hunter pour healthy measures into two glasses. “This must be serious.”
Hunter handed his friend a glass, then jumped straight in before he could lose his nerve. “I have a son. Sophie gave birth yesterday.”
James stood there, holding his drink half-way to his lips. A minute dragged by until he was able to speak.
“Con…gratulations?” The single word rose in pitch. James coughed and tried again. “Are you alright, Hunter?”
Hunter shrugged and tilted the golden liquid in his glass. “I don’t know. I mean, I knew the day would come.”
“What will you do about it?” James asked, sitting on one of the armchairs.
Hunter let out a groan. “What should I do? I can’t reconcile things with Sophie. I can’t take a new-born baby from its mother. So where does that leave me?”
James shrugged helpfully. “Carrying on as before? It might be a terrible thing to suggest, but Sophie isn’t going to hurt him. Maybe… let’s finish this thing, then we can concentrate on getting your son.”
Hunter drummed his fingers against the glass. “You know what else this means – Sophie is going to step back into the fray, and things are going to get worse.”
“You know this?” James asked sceptically.
“It’s an educated guess.” Hunter countered. “It has been my suspicion that the absence of the Shadow Witch has been due to her pregnancy, rather than any injury gained from the last battle.”
James exhaled. “You’re gonna have to tell Hayworth and Marks. Even if you don’t share all the facts, they need to know to expect a backlash.”
*****
After speaking with James, Hunter returned to bed, but tossed and turned and didn’t sleep. Eventually when he felt dawn arriving, he could stop pretending and get up.
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