“Bev?”
“Good afternoon, Hunter. It’s been a while.” The woman replied civilly.
Dear god, Beverley Murphy, the mother of the Shadow Witch, and one of the last people that Hunter wanted to see. Hunter felt his pulse speed, and he was very aware of the audience he had for this special reunion.
“It has. Must be four years now.” Hunter replied conversationally. Had it really been four years? He remembered the last time he had seen Bev like it was yesterday. When she had been playing the messenger, bringing news of Adam’s birth. “What brings you here?”
Bev smiled coolly at his weak questioning, as though he couldn’t guess. “The Shadow Witch sent me, to ask you to return her son.”
Hunter stood with his arms folded across his chest as he swiftly processed the information behind the words. “She knew it was me?”
“Of course, who else could have done it - would have dared do it? Even after all this time, Sophie still recognised your work.” Bev replied.
Hunter stood quietly, his initial worry that he should be so easily recognisable was dwarfed by the thrill of hearing someone else say Her name aloud. Oh boy, that was wrong.
“And she expects us to just give him back? And everyone stays friends?” Hunter said bitterly.
Bev sighed, annoyed by his attitude, and clearly unmoved by the many guns aimed directly at her. “It is her right; she is his mother.”
“And I am his father.” Hunter returned swiftly, ignoring the tenseness, ground teeth and dirty looks from the other witch-hunters. “Adam stays with me.”
Hunter grimaced at what might come with this stubbornness. He had to know what was coming, and only Bev Murphy could answer him. The main question was, would she be forthcoming, and would she be truthful.
“Now tell me Bev, how did you find us, and how many more are coming.”
Bev eyed the gathered witch-hunters with an assessing gaze. She seemed to be weighing her options. “Our intelligence showed this area to be void of witchcraft. It was an educated guess that your base would be somewhere in the region. I have been wandering for two days in hope of crossing paths with a patrol. As for how many - the Shadow Witch sent me alone. For now.”
Hunter nodded as he assimilated this information, and took a step back, turning to the Council members. “What now, sirs?”
General Dawkins watched Bev carefully, fixing the witch with a scrutinising gaze. “She’ll be taken into custody and held until we arrange a trial. She’ll be given a chance to offer information for leniency.”
A bitter lump rose in Hunter’s throat. He could not imagine Bev being put through whatever strict trial had been developed in these harsh times. But he nodded again, he might as well agree with the Council for now.
The witch-hunters moved in to escort the witch under guard into the cell-like rooms in the warren.
Hunter stepped back, out of the attention of every man. His dark brown eyes fixed on Bev with a sudden intensity, as his thoughts reached out to brush across the surface of hers. Bev’s eyes widened with shock and she glanced at Hunter as she was led past.
‘I will meet you later. You are under my protection.’
Bev’s expression hardened, and she gave an imperceptible nod.
“So, you recognise this witch?” Dawkins asked, his voice coloured with disgust as he watched the witch walk past them.
Hunter frowned as his eyes lingered on Bev. Yes, he knew her. He was suddenly assailed with the memories of meeting Ms. Murphy, it had been a fine summer’s day when he, Sophie and James Bennett had landed on her doorstep by chance. She had seemed like any other mother; welcoming, but cautious of the men that accompanied her daughter. Hunter almost smiled as he remembered how Bev had warned him off Sophie - he had initially thought her over-protective, but he now saw that she had been trying to protect him.
Hunter nodded in response to Dawkin’s question.
And the General looked unsatisfied with his answer. “And what of her? You crossed paths and you failed to kill her? What is her position with the witches?”
Hunter grimaced at the General’s presumption. Obviously, it must be expected that he killed any witch he met. It was only a few years ago that it had been common practise to imprison witches and bind their powers. But all that had changed when the Shadow Witch had opened the prisons and returned the powers, and the witch-hunters had suffered for their previous leniency.
“I didn’t know that Bev was a witch - she was one of the bound when I met her. She was the Shadow Witch’s point of contact when she was undercover - a liaison to the other witches.” Hunter replied convincingly. It sounded like the truth and was believable. Hunter wasn’t about to tell this frankly austere Colin Dawkins that Bev was Sophie’s mother.
“And when I was held prisoner at the witches’ headquarters, she was-” Hunter broke off. He’d been about to say that she was the one to help him escape, when he suddenly realised that this Council might see him in Bev’s debt. “-she was a mediator in the group, I’m not surprised that she should be sent.”
Hunter ignored Dawkin’s sceptical look and turned to walk back towards the warren. The rest of the Council fell into step, the party finally deserting the field.
“So, what do we do about the boy?” One asked.
Hunter felt anger flare up. The boy - his son. He was annoyed at how narrow and close-minded these people were; they wouldn’t even call Adam by his name.
“I don’t know. We knew he could be a beacon for the Shadow Witch to find us. But it might be worth it if he shows some real power.” General Dawkins replied, cold and logical. He turned to Hunter. “Does he?”
Hunter didn’t reply immediately. He knew that he’d promised the Council a chance to have a mini-witch with all the power of his mother, but he wondered, did Adam’s anti-witch paternity cancel out Sophie’s power? “No, not yet anyway. It’s perfectly normal for witches not to display power until puberty.”
“So, we may have to wait ten years!” The Council member, Theresa, stressed. “Ten years of danger for a flimsy promise of power - is it worth it?”
“Depends on how you see it.” Hunter replied warningly.
He stopped walking, glaring at the Council members. How could they talk about such a sweet, innocent boy like that? Hunter turned his mind to Adam, playing in their quarters. It was so tempting to blink away from these fools and back to his son. But Hunter stopped himself. It would only upset the Council more if he started blinking about the place. And maybe it would be better if he did not draw any further attention to that particular ability for a while.
Hunter walked on again, striding out so that he did not have to walk with the Council. He just wanted to get back to his rooms. Hunter was not stopped as he entered the warren, and no one crossed his path as he made his way through the dim and confusing corridors towards his comfortable prison.
Hunter flinched as he threw the door open with unintended force. Three faces stared up at him.
Toby stood up, frowning. “What’s happened?”
Hunter closed the door behind him with more care. “Look, can you stay here for another half hour? I have to go somewhere, and I can’t let the others know.”
Confusion and suspicion clouded Toby’s face at this request. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Hunter.”
“Look, Toby, I swear that I will explain everything later. But I need to go. Now. I just need you to hang around, and if anyone comes in, tell them I’m - I’m in the bathroom. I’ll be listening for that one. Thanks mate, I owe you.”
Hunter clapped Toby on the shoulder. Toby opened his mouth to respond, but it was too late, Hunter had already blinked out.
Hunter took a deep breath as he left, he always got dizzy when he had to guess where he was travelling. He locked onto Bev and pulled himself through the cold and dark. When he opened his eyes, Bev was staring at him calmly. Of course, for a woman that had seen frequent miracles from her daughter, to have a man materialise in her cell
must mean nothing.
“Hi… are you ok?” Hunter asked weakly. He looked about the small room that had nothing in it, no chair nor table wasted on this witch. Hunter glanced at the door and reached out with his mind until he confirmed the presence of two witch-hunters standing guard outside.
“I am a prisoner to our ruthless enemy. But other than that, I am fine.” Bev said bitterly, automatically keeping her voice low. “You are taking a risk.”
Hunter shrugged; some risks were worth it. “Why did Sophie send you?”
“To get her son back. My grandson.” Bev replied, finding the answer obvious.
“No, I meant, why you? Sending her own mother into the lion’s den. I haven’t told the Council, by the way, they think you are a regular witch.”
Bev didn’t respond immediately; she folded her arms protectively in front of her. “She sent me because she knew that I was the one witch that you would listen to. And also… because she can afford to lose me.”
Bev looked sharply at Hunter, her green eyes glinting with a pain that had hardened over time. “She never forgave me for what I did, for daring to steal her powers to save you and your friend. And I think… I think she suspects the other part I played.”
Hunter frowned at Bev’s words. “What part would that be?”
Bev dropped her gaze, her fingers twisting together as she fortified herself. “How… how do you think Brian Lloyd found out about the return of the Shadow Witch?”
Brian Lloyd had been a highly-respected 5th gen witch-hunter; he had been Hunter’s own trainer after his father died. Brian had been Sophie’s trainer when she pretended to be a fresh recruit. Until the Shadow Witch had killed him for getting too close to the truth.
Hunter felt the breath knocked out of him at the realisation of what Bev was admitting. “The papers; that was you?”
He opened his mouth to speak but stopped. Sophie had noticed Brian disappearing every couple of weeks but had assumed he had a woman to visit.
“Brian didn’t know who I was.” Bev said quietly. “He did not know I was Sophie’s mother, there was no reason to connect us. I feared what Sophie would do, and I had to warn somebody. Amongst the witches, Brian Lloyd was a famous witch-hunter.”
Hunter took a deep breath. “Well, I suppose that explains why Brian hid his research so far north…”
Bev tucked her dark hair behind her ear. “Yes, though I wish he hadn’t. From then on Sophie has been suspicious of me and my motives. A crack in our relationship that the more ambitious in the Witches council have played upon. Shortly after I brought you news of Adam’s birth, I was stripped of all trust and respect and reduced to being a face, frequently ignored in her house. I became no more than a carer for Adam.
“This is my chance to redeem myself. It has been made clear to me that if I do not return with Adam, I should not return at all.” Bev sighed, resigned to her fate, then spoke again beneath her breath. “Yet if I do return victorious, they will all question how I persuaded you to give him up.”
“Bev, I’m sorry.” Hunter replied quietly. He had never considered what consequences her lenience might yield. He almost felt guilty for what had happened. “How can Sophie treat you like that?”
Bev looked directly at him, with no shame. “It’s not so much Sophie these days, as the other witches at council. My daughter is little more than a figurehead, now that the witches have what they want. There to cow the populace while the council are the real power.”
Bev shook her head at her own daughter’s place. “After all those years of hatred, of wanting revenge… I don’t think Sophie ever gave serious thought to what would happen afterwards.”
Hunter stood quietly, feeling pity towards his old lover; and then disturbed that he should so naturally feel sorry for the bane of his life.
“So please, give Sophie her son back. Adam is all she has in this world.”
“Likewise, Bev, likewise.” Hunter muttered, feeling that he had much less than Sophie at this point.
“But she is distraught, you have not seen her! She fears what the witch-hunters will do to a half-witch child.”
“I would never let any harm come to him.” Hunter replied, hurt that Bev thought he would ever let that happen. “Why shouldn’t she trust me with my own son? I am the good guy after all.”
Bev smiled bitterly at the honest answer that she left unspoken. She gently shook her head. “You are the enemy Hunter, capable of atrocities in a time of war. And even without that, Sophie would never put her trust is paternal affection!”
“But…” Hunter stopped; Bev’s comment made him pause. What did she mean by paternal affection? His brow creased beneath this little mystery. “What do you mean?”
“Sophie never told you? Why she hates witch-hunters. Why she distrusts men, you above all?” Bev replied quietly, musing over an old torment. “Because-”
Hunter suddenly jumped. He heard Toby saying his name, as clearly as though he stood beside him, though he remained in another part of the warren. This mystery would have to wait.
“I have to go; I don’t want them to know I’m here.” He explained, then blinked out.
Hunter was in a small dark room, and through the door he could hear Toby talking. Hunter reached out, fumbling in the dark until he found a chain. The toilet flushed and Hunter opened the door into the main room of his quarters.
Adam and Mel were still sat in the middle of the floor, and Toby sprawled comfortably on the sofa. All just as Hunter had left them. Except for the fourth person in the room.
Hunter looked towards Colin Dawkins, who stood near the door, wearing that seemingly permanent sceptical expression.
“Can I help you, General?” Hunter asked mildly.
Dawkins didn’t reply immediately but took in the scene suspiciously. “I came to see if you were alright.”
“To check up on me, you mean.” Hunter corrected, suddenly tired with the pretence of friendship and deciding to jump straight to the point.
Dawkins made a half-hearted effort at being affronted at Hunter’s assumption, then just shrugged.
“Can you blame me? You knew that witch by name.” Dawkins said coldly. “You’re hiding something Hunter; you had a familiarity with that witch. I saw your concern over what we might do with her.”
Hunter stood silently, not sure how to respond to this. Even if he denied it, the obvious lie would throw fuel on the fire of suspicion. Hunter gazed at Dawkins, trying to work him out. Had he been too eager to presume that a familiar face meant a friend and ally in these times? He realised that Dawkins had been cool, even negative, ever since he arrived at the warren.
“Look, Colin, is there something I have done? For I thought we were friends, you and I?” Hunter asked quietly and sincerely.
The General smiled bitterly and shifted his weight. “You jump to conclusions, Hunter. I was never in this to be anyone’s friend. I followed orders from General Hayworth, regardless of my own opinion.” Dawkins shook his head and paced away with restless energy. “He saw something in you that he was willing to die for, but forgive me, for I see nothing.”
“I’m not asking you to die.” Hunter responded, a subtle anger and distress colouring his tone. But the General continued as though he had not heard him.
“I see nothing, save a power that is unpredictable and limited in its use. I see the person that wields it as a man lacking all sense of duty, who thinks himself free of all the restraints and rules of our society, a man that can beget a son by the enemy! And a man that, when we go for that hard push, will probably run and hide again in the Italian hills.”
Dawkins voice grew colder throughout his rant, and he glared at Hunter with a finally unveiled revulsion. The General stood for a moment more, then wrenched the door open, suddenly leaving the room.
Hunter and Toby were left speechless in his wake. The only sound came from Mel, who was singing quietly…
“Fuchs, du hast die Gans gestshlen, Gib sie wieder her!”
&n
bsp; Hunter frowned at what he recognised to be a German nursery rhyme; he was quickly learning to not be surprised by anything Mel might do. But her little voice did make him shiver.
Hunter pushed the cottage door open and struggled through, his sports bag slung over his shoulder.
“Sophie, I’m home.” He called out, aware of the noise of the television that floated through from the living room.
There was the sound of thumping feet, quickly followed by the appearance of Adam, all black hair and pale skin and very big bright eyes as he greeted his father.
“Daddy!” He squealed, promptly throwing himself at Hunter and clinging fiercely to his legs.
“Hey little man, I brought a visitor too.” Hunter said, giving Adam an awkward hug, while trying to keep his sports bag balanced. Hunter shuffled down the hallway, to let his guest in, hampered by his son.
Another man came limping in behind Hunter, his eyes gleamed at the sight of his favourite little boy. “Hey up, mate.”
“Uncle James!” Adam shouted, immediately releasing his father and barrelling into James, his noisy hug quickly followed by ear-splitting laughter.
Hunter chuckled, not sure who was the biggest kid, and he turned away to see Sophie hovering in the doorway. She was always more reserved when James was around. Hunter dropped his bag and walked over to her, kissing her in greeting. She pulled away and looked pointedly at the floor.
“I hope you’re going to clean that mud up, Hunter. How was rugby?” Sophie dragged her cold hazel eyes from the mess on the floor and looked directly at Hunter, a deep need in her gaze that almost distracted him.
“It could’ve gone worse. We only lost by six points. But I had to take James for stitches afterwards.”
In the hallway, James kicked off his shoes and, holding a giggling Adam upside-down, he pushed past his hosts into the living room. He tilted his head as he passed, showing off the red area above his brow. “I still say I didn’t need stitches - a plaster would’ve done. Nowt a cuppa tea can’t fix, anyway.”
Witch Hunter Trilogy Box Set Page 37