Hunter folded up the map and tucked it away. “Of course. If the alternative was hypothermia, I would definitely share body heat.”
Alannah’s cheeks flushed red as the rest of the team laughed. “That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me, Hunter.”
Hunter walked past her towards the tents, pausing to ruffle her hair in a very brotherly way. “I try my best.”
Alannah squeaked, and ducked away from him, then flattened her hair again. She looked to the other three that were looking very amused. She shook her head. “No comment.”
It was nearly the end of the first watch and Hunter sat nursing a hot drink as he stared down the hill. His mind was running over the smooth running of his team. They’d been working together for nearly a year and a half, and Hunter had to confess that he depended on them now. He didn’t want anything complicating their unity. James and Maria were strong, and they seemed stronger together. Hunter marvelled that James had not done anything yet to cock things up. Or perhaps Maria was just very forgiving.
It had not passed Hunter by, that Alannah was becoming a little more insistent in her hints. Did the little Welsh girl expect him to sweep her up in his arms? Hunter didn’t want to give thought to where Alannah’s fantasies led, he was not going to indulge them. Perhaps he should get Maria to have a quiet word and persuade the girl to look elsewhere.
Hunter drummed his fingers on the tin cup of now lukewarm tea. When did this happen? A few years ago, he would have enjoyed the attention. She was a pretty girl - they could have flirted, possibly slept together, and entertained some short-lived relationship. Hunter blamed Sophie, it had to be her fault. Or was it because he was a father – did that automatically make you mature and responsible?
Adam was going to be a year old at the end of summer. A year old, and Hunter still wouldn’t have seen his son. He wondered if he looked like him, or did he take after his mother?
Hunter thought back to the conversation he’d had with James, the night he had learnt of Adam’s birth, that they would wrap all this up and then claim his son. It had seemed an easy promise to make then, but nearly a year on, and they were no closer to their aim.
Hunter’s thoughts stopped mid-track. Something didn’t feel right. He checked his shields, finding them all intact, then sent his senses further down the wooded slope. Nothing, there was no- Hunter froze. There was movement in the woods, but camouflaged in such a way that Hunter could barely perceive it. He stood up, barely breathing as he tracked the faint whisper of life that moved up the hill, still hidden to his normal senses.
Hunter swore and ran back to the tents. It was only ten in the evening, and most were still at least half-awake.
“Ambush.” He warned in a stony voice, quickly getting the attention of those in the campsite. “I don’t know how many, coming up the hill. Get everyone ready for my signal.”
The witch-hunters and soldiers moved without question, to follow his orders.
Hunter moved to the edge of camp and crouched in the darkness. He felt a pang of unease, that this was going to go terribly wrong. He closed his eyes and tried to sense the magic that was being used to cloak the witches. It was very subtle, by a very adept witch, but it didn’t have the same feel as Sophie’s magic. Hunter guessed that she had no part in this, but for some reason that did little to comfort him.
The witches were near impossible to perceive, and as Hunter waited to call for the counter-ambush, he heard the sudden cry of one of his men, taken out by an invisible enemy that had moved up the hill faster than Hunter had anticipated.
Hunter ignored the following outburst of cursing and gunshots, knowing that his men were fighting blind, he concentrated instead on breaking through the magic that disguised the witches. He grimaced at the skill of the caster; their spell seemed infallible. But then Hunter found a crack the breadth of a spider’s web. He pushed the weak link until the spell faltered and broke. Suddenly the enemy was clear before their eyes again.
There was a rallying shout from the witch-hunters and soldiers as they pressed their new advantage.
Hunter heard a stuttered moan and heavy breathing beside him. James lay slumped on the ground by his feet, a trickle of blood starting to roll down from his mouth. Hunter swore, and knelt down beside him, throwing up a shield about them.
“James… what…?”
“Couldn’t see… I couldn’t see them. B-but had to defend you.” James mumbled, then winced.
Hunter took in his surroundings and noticed two inert bodies lying nearby. He hadn’t even noticed them approach, he’d been so focused on breaking the spell. He didn’t know whether the two witches were dead yet, but that was the least of his worries right now.
“Come on, I’ll get you to the first-aid tent.” Hunter muttered, frustrated at his friend’s heroism.
He moved to pick James up, but James just cried in pain, and pushed him away.
“Don’t. It hurts, you bastard.” James spat, then closed his eyes. “T-tell my family they should be proud of me. And Maria, tell Maria…”
Hunter felt the distracting attack along the lines of his shield and mentally shoved it away as though it were a mild irritant.
“Why are you talking like this? You’re going to be fine. We’ll finish up here, then get you patched up.” Hunter said firmly.
“Need a bloody big patch.” James laughed, his eyes straining at the effort, and his teeth stained red. He lifted his hand from his torso – his dark jumper looked damp, but deceptive – only on the pale flesh of his hand did the true extent of his blood loss show. “They hit me hard mate. Too hard even… even for you to fix.”
James spoke calmly enough, only a groan of pain puncturing his control. James reached out and suddenly grabbed Hunter’s arm with a bloodied hand. “I - I need to tell you…”
Hunter pushed him back down, desperate that he should rest and conserve his energy. “You can tell me after the battle.”
“No… now.” James growled weakly, as his skin paled, and sweat mingled with the blood on his brow.
“I don’t blame you for any of this – I don’t regret any of this. Except dying maybe.” James smiled and laughed at his own useless joke. “I trusted Sophie too.”
Hunter shook his head. He again felt magic attack his shield, and again he repulsed it. He was not listening to his best friend’s final words, because James was not going to die, he could not die.
Hunter closed his eyes, trying to find something, that spark that made him different, that magic. He had done things people considered miracles, was it so hard to believe that he might be able to heal a simple wound? His powers always showed themselves when Hunter was at his greatest need – this time definitely counted.
“Please.” Hunter whispered.
James’ grip loosened on his arm and fell limply to his side. Hunter opened his eyes in time to witness the last breath leave his body. Hunter stared, frozen. He felt that if he even breathed, the world would shatter. But his emotions were beyond his control. He felt the anger and grief roil inside him, making his limbs quiver with excess energy, a demand that needed to be sated.
Hunter blacked out.
When he came to, Sergeant O’Hara had gently placed a hand on his shoulder, making Hunter jump. Hunter was still kneeling over James’ body. Obviously only his mind had blacked out, his body was still working fine. He looked up at the soldier, who in turn looked warily back.
“What happened?” The man asked.
Hunter blinked, his mind slow and uncomprehending. “What do you mean?”
O’Hara pulled back his hand, looking quite scared. “Well sir, one minute we’re being attacked by an enemy we can’t see. Then we see them, but they couldn’t touch us, and then – well just look at it, sir.”
Hunter frowned, looking past the soldier. Even in the dark, Hunter’s eyes were sharp, he could see the rest of his team moving cautiously across the open towards him – the open! The moon shone down onto a ravaged scene, the trees to
rn up by their roots, or blasted where they stood.
“Casualties?” Hunter asked weakly.
“Five on our side from when the battle began.” The soldier reported. “We’re still checking, but so far we haven’t found any surviving witches.”
Hunter took a deep breath. No surviving witches. The scene echoed back to the only other time Hunter had felt such a release of rage. But that had been in a church, the night Charlotte was killed.
“James? James!” Alannah’s voice pierced his thoughts.
There was the added noise of footsteps now hurrying in his direction. Hunter didn’t even bother looking up, as the rest of his team descended on them.
Chapter Twenty-four
Hunter did not sleep that night. His limbs were still filled with the restless energy of his grief. Which meant that he had dug a grave in the early hours of the morning, and by dawn, his team held a tearful burial.
Sergeant O’Hara stood with them to pay his respects.
Hunter stood there, unable to process any thought or feeling. Alannah clung to Maria’s arm, her face streaked with tears, whereas Maria seemed to be experiencing the same numbness that was affecting Hunter. Ian stood next to Maria, his hand on her shoulder; he looked over to Hunter, the older man uncertain for once, of what to do.
Hunter let out a rattling breath and eventually moved away from the graveside, his legs just about working, though they felt like lead. He motioned for O’Hara to join him.
“We need to get moving. Send the men and women back to Manchester the mundane way. Also, can you organise an investigation into this – no one knew that we were here, save the Mayor. I want to know if she is implicated, or someone in her office has betrayed us. If it is possible, take our fallen back to their families.”
“Yes sir.” O’Hara answered automatically, then hesitated. “Sir, this does not have to be done now, if you need-”
“Sergeant. I-” Hunter interrupted, but stopped, looking back to his team that still huddled by the grave. It was impossible to think that James simply wouldn’t be there anymore. It didn’t make sense. But at least he was buried in his hometown. It’s what he would have wanted. Now there was the monumental task of telling his family. Hunter’s insides froze at the mere thought of the emotions and distress that he would be causing good people. People that had always welcomed him and treated Hunter as an extended part of the family.
“Sergeant, can you please inform James’ uncle and aunt – I can provide you with an address, they don’t live far from here.”
Sergeant O’Hara frowned, obviously not comfortable being the bearer of bad news, and probably wondering why the best friend did not take the message.
Hunter saw the look and winced. “I cannot go, I cannot be the one to tell them. You have to understand; I am the one that dragged James into this world. Without me, he would have lived a normal, boringly safe life. It- it’s my fault.”
Hunter took a deep breath and moved away from O’Hara. He drifted closer to his team again. He had to get them back to Manchester, get them out of his charge and custody, so he could be selfish and grieve.
*****
“Where are we?” Alannah asked, confusion in her weary voice.
It was dark, the weak sunlight blocked by drapes.
Hunter took a deep breath; the very air was familiar and comforting. He easily navigated the chairs and low table and pulled back the heavy curtains.
“Astley Manor.” He murmured, then shook his head. “Sorry, I wasn’t concentrating.”
Alannah moved closer to him, slipping her delicate hand into his. “It’s ok.”
Hunter wanted to express some gratefulness, but he couldn’t even squeeze her hand, or raise the corner of his mouth in a grim smile. He just stared across the room, unfocussed, waiting to feel normal.
Ian coughed. “I’ll let Mrs Astley and Charles know we’re here.”
He shot a concerned look at Maria, who hadn’t said a word since last night, then left to find the other occupants of this house.
“I should…” Hunter broke off, not sure what he was going to say. He felt that he needed to do something, unused energy still burnt through his muscles, even as they felt like lead. But what could he do, he had already killed the witches and had his revenge. Should he go after their leader, should he face the Shadow Witch and take his anger out on her?
A life for a life. He had spared her, now James was dead.
There was a tug on his hand.
“Come to the kitchen.” Alannah insisted. “You too, Maria. I’ll make tea, then find something for us to eat.”
Hunter glanced down at Alannah, the green of her eyes even brighter against the redness from crying. He nodded and allowed the girl to lead him to the kitchen.
Maria wrapped her arms protectively about her own chest, and silently followed.
It must have been the very early hours of the following morning, yet Hunter lay wide awake. He turned over again, sleep eluding him.
He didn’t even have to close his eyes for the battle to play over and over, the pictures bright and bloody.
Hunter told himself that he knew – they all knew – that fighting meant the chance they might die. Hunter accepted that. But to lose someone else?
Hunter shuddered at the memory of the shattered forest, the energy that had boiled within himself. He had only ever experienced it once before, when the witches had killed Charlotte, his closest friend, save James.
Was that why the witches had done it? Had they wanted to – to defuse him? Sophie would have known that after Charlotte, only James could evoke such a reaction. Hunter thought bitterly that, once upon a time, the same could have been said for Sophie, herself.
Had she targeted him?
Hunter threw the cover away and got out of bed. Hardly thinking about what he was doing, he grabbed his dressing gown to cover the bare chest and boxers he had slept in – or tried to sleep in.
Hunter made his way down the silent corridor, until he got to a certain room. He took a deep breath and pushed open the door, stepping inside.
He wasn’t sure what he was hoping to see. Perhaps a pair of glasses on the side-table, or an open book on the desk. But it was disappointingly tidy. Charles must have cleaned the room since the last time they came to stay – there was no hint of James left.
Hunter let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, when he heard a sob in the dark room. Hunter shuffled further into the room, to see Maria huddled in the shadow of the foot of the bed.
“Maria?” He said, but even his soft voice was startlingly loud.
Maria snapped her head in his direction. “Hunter.” She hiccupped, fiercely wiping tears from her cheeks.
Hunter stood, uncertain as ever in the face of emotion. “You ok?” He asked, inwardly wincing at the pointless words.
“Yeah…” Maria coughed to kick the waver out of her voice. “I… I know I shouldn’t be in here, but I – I-”
As she broke off, Hunter heard her breath hitch as she tried to control herself.
“Shh, it’s fine.” Hunter replied, stepping closer, then sliding down to sit next to her.
Maria groaned, and wiped her eyes again. “You know, this is the first time I’ve cried since my dad died, twelve years ago. I don’t do crying; I don’t do emotion.”
Hunter guessed this was one of those times it was best to stay quiet and let Maria vent. He leant his shoulder against hers, but otherwise said nothing.
“Not when I lost friends in Afghanistan. Not when my husband left me.” Maria sighed. “You know, you get in the habit of not feeling, not connecting.”
Maria drew her knees up, hugging them to her chest. “But James was… unexpected. I don’t even know when I fell for him. And I never got a chance to – to tell him…“
Maria broke off in a sob. Hunter put his arm reassuringly about her shoulders. “It’s ok. He knew, he-” Hunter paused to steady his voice. “He knew, and he loved you too.”
Maria huffed
, and shoved him with her elbow. “You’re lying, you’re just saying that to make me feel better.” She said, but couldn’t hide her smile through her tears.
Hunter shrugged. “I’ve known James for years; I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looked at you. Plus, you’re the only woman he’s ever taken home to meet his family.”
Maria leant her head against Hunter’s shoulder. “I hardly knew him. I was foolish enough to think that we’d have forever. I’d give anything to have just one more day with him.”
Hunter closed his eyes, tears leaking out the corners of them. “Me too.”
Maria sighed, wiping her eyes on her pyjama sleeve. “I don’t suppose time travel is one of your tricks.”
Hunter grunted. “No. At least, I don’t think it is.” Hunter gazed at the dark ceiling, he hated to admit that he honestly could not say for sure. He felt anew the gaping hole in his knowledge. Should he have done what James once requested – sought the traces of the Benandanti instead of fighting the witches?
They sat like that for what must have been an hour. Maria had grown so still that Hunter thought she must have drifted to sleep.
“So, what now?” She suddenly asked.
“What now, what?” Hunter repeated groggily.
“I mean, what’s going to happen next? We can’t stay at this stalemate.”
Hunter sighed. “Next, we force the witches into battle, and we kill them.”
There was a pause, before Maria dared to ask a burning question. “Including Sophie?”
Hunter grimaced. “Sophie Murphy has ceased to exist. The Shadow Witch has killed James, and countless others. There can be no forgiveness.”
Chapter Twenty-five
The next morning, after Charles had force fed them all a hearty breakfast, Hunter assembled with his diminished team to return to headquarters.
When they blinked into the secure compound, a few of the newer recruits jumped at their sudden appearance, but the rest seemed to accept that four people had appeared out of thin air. It was amazing how ‘normal’ they considered Hunter’s new-found skill, and if Hunter had been in the mood for it, he would have felt relief. It had not been long ago he had feared being outcast – or worse, killed – for his magic-like abilities.
Witch Hunter Trilogy Box Set Page 27