Witch Hunter Trilogy Box Set

by K. S. Marsden

  Sophie sighed, rolling her eyes at the Yorkshire man. From the very first time they’d met, Sophie and James had never gotten along. But she moved grudgingly into the kitchen. Hunter paused to untie his boots and kick them off; from the living room he could hear the cartoons on the television, and the sound of Adam laughing and James’ funny accent; from the kitchen he could hear the clink of mugs being set out, and he could just imagine Sophie’s expression.

  Obedient to his heart, Hunter walked into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around his Sophie, he breathed in the scent of her hair as he murmured a few choice words in her ear. Sophie took a shuddering breath, savouring the moment. But as the kettle boiled, she pulled away from Hunter’s arms and played the perfect hostess, taking through the steaming hot tea for Hunter and James, just as she used to back in Astley Manor, back before all the madness. Hunter followed her like a shadow through into the living room. Adam was quieter now and sat on the floor in front of his Uncle James. James turned to accept his mug of tea and Hunter could see fresh blood on his face, seeping out from the stitches, much more than he expected. A red drip rolled down James’ cheek, and the Yorkshireman caught it before it dropped onto the clean sofa.

  “Why are you always bleeding when I see you these days?” Hunter said with exasperation. But half of his consciousness tore away with sudden fear, his eyes were fixed on the wound on James’ face, the bruises on his arms and legs, all of which became large and glaring under Hunter’s scrutiny. James’ eyes looked back at Hunter, empty.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.” Hunter murmured. Then awoke, bathed in cold sweat.

  Chapter Sixteen

  More than anything, Hunter wanted to see Bev again, to ask her more about the danger they were in, to ask her what she had meant before. But he could not risk it, the Council were more alert than ever, and Colin Dawkin’s enmity had thrown him.

  The next day Hunter was summoned to the Council again. He came, reluctantly leaving Adam in the care of Toby’s wife, Claire. Robinson. Claire had looked less than thrilled at the prospect of babysitting the half-witch child but had agreed for her husband’s sake.

  When Hunter arrived at the Council’s rooms, he found them all seated about the long table, awaiting his arrival.

  “Ah, Mr Astley.” Theresa greeted warmly, looking up as he entered. “I’m glad you could join us. There are certain matters in which we require your help. One in particular, actually.”

  She motioned for Hunter to join them at the table, and a folder of hand-written documents was pushed towards him. He flicked through them, some pages stirring a certain familiarity in him, although on a whole they made no sense.

  “After your disappearance we claimed Astley Manor and its extensive collection for the good of the Malleus Maleficarum Council.”

  Hunter looked up at this, a flash of anger that anyone should take what belonged to him and his family. Theresa gave him a sympathetic look, then continued.

  “We found documents, arranged and researched, pertaining to this Shadow Witch, and one we did not know existed in 1940. We wondered if there might be some information about the last one, how she was contained, how she was released, that might aid us now. Of course, your documents were incomplete, but they did point to a German source. The Council decided to send a small party of witch-hunters to investigate this source. Yesterday we received word that they have failed and been killed.”

  There was a shared murmur of condolences and regret from the Council members. But they all fell silent again.

  “I hope you understand our predicament, Mr Astley. Good men and women have given their lives trying to discover a weakness in the Shadow Witch, and I do not want their sacrifice to have been in vain. Yet travel between the UK and the rest of Europe is slow; communication is slower still.”

  Theresa fell silent, and Hunter sat there with a vague impression that this was where he came in.

  “And what do you want from me?” He asked hesitantly.

  “You can travel anywhere, can you not?” A man to his right asked.

  “Yes.” Hunter replied slowly. “Well, as far as I can tell.”

  “Well then, you could be in Germany at a moment’s notice.” The man continued. “And find out what we all need to know.”

  “I know you no longer follow Council orders.” Theresa added, noticing Hunter’s reluctant expression. “But this could be the breakthrough, the information that you came back for. Also, you can see it as repaying our help in recovering your son. And you needn’t do this alone, you’ll have the best witch-hunters with you.”

  Hunter grimaced. “I can’t take anyone else-”

  “Nonsense.” Colin Dawkins interjected coolly, the first time he had spoken. “I’ve seen you transport a whole bloody army when the need arose for it - and travelled with you myself I might add.”

  Hunter waited for Dawkins to finish and did his best not to fix him with a scathing look. “Thank you, General. But I did not mean I was physically incapable, just morally. I can’t risk a group of unprotected first generations, no matter how good they are.” Hunter had expected some resistance or argument against his statement, but instead he was met with silent, knowing stares.

  “We thought you might say that. And perhaps you are right, anyone would be in double the danger if you were around them, and we should not inflict that on any first generation.” Theresa agreed. “Which is why we’ve assigned a higher gen to you.”

  Hunter wavered; he had not expected to win that argument so easily. Then he froze. A higher gen? “Not Toby!” He blurted out, shocked at the idea that his invalid friend might be dragged into this.

  “I wish.” Toby grunted. “But thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “No, not Toby.” Theresa replied with a vein of amusement in her voice. “A sixth gen, due back at the warren today. We will send them along to your quarters once they are briefed.”

  Theresa nodded at the file beneath Hunter’s fingers. “You had best spend your time memorising that. We expect you to leave as soon as possible.”

  *****

  Hunter was sat in his room, trying to wrap his head around the documents before him. It was stodgy reading material and jumped from English to German (and even a piece in Russian); and his concentration was not aided by Adam and his new best friend Mel, equally jumping between games and quiet time, where Mel tried to teach Adam German.

  “Wo ist vater? Es ist der vater! Wo ist mutter? Es ist der mutt-”

  “Mel-” Hunter snapped, then immediately felt guilty beneath her hurt blue gaze. “Sorry Mel, it’s just you are disturbing me, and I have to…”

  “Ok, George.” Mel mumbled, looking away, obviously not forgiving him easily this time.

  Hunter thought back to the last time Mel had come around, and something suddenly struck him. “Mel… did you know that I was going to Germany?”

  “Sonst wird dich der Jäger holen, mit dem Schießgewehr…” Mel murmured tunefully, still not facing him. “Or the Hunter will fetch you, with his gun.”

  Hunter leant forward, about to speak when there was a sharp knock at the door. Hunter jumped, and cursed his nerves, before going to open the door.

  “Toby, come in.” He said, unsurprised, standing aside for his friend.

  But before Toby could limp in, a blond girl pushed through impatiently. Hunter watched in shock as she took a blatant gander about the room and then turned to him with an assessing blue gaze.

  “So, this is the famous Hunter Astley?” She remarked in a ringing American accent. “I thought you’d be taller.”

  Hunter opened his mouth to reply but found himself dumbstruck.

  Toby (biting back a smirk) nodded to the new girl. “Hunter, this is Kris Davies-”

  “Kris-ten.” The girl stressed.

  “Sorry, Kristen. Kristen Davies, 6th gen. She’ll be accompanying you to Germany.” Toby finished.

  Still short on words, Hunter held out his hand to shake, a gesture Kristen ignored.
/>
  “So, it’s true then? You can, like, just blink and be there?” Kristen asked, her blue eyes bright and excited at the thought. “But I mean, it just sounds magical.”

  “Ahm.” Hunter managed a non-committal sound, as he let his arm drop back by his side.

  “The Council suggests meeting in the field and setting off at dawn tomorrow.” Toby interjected helpfully.

  “Dawn?!” Kristen scoffed. “What’s wrong with you people? Instantaneous travel at our disposal and we can’t sleep in ‘til a reasonable hour? Whatever. I’m gonna go crash.”

  The girl sighed heavily and without any further explanation she left the room.

  Hunter stood there baffled. “That was… interesting.”

  Toby chuckled. “Oh, you have no idea mate.”

  *****

  The warren had quietened down for the night, as those within settled for sleep. Hunter watched silently as Adam slept soundly on the fold-out cot, looking ever so peaceful as he dreamt.

  Hunter knew that it might be days before he saw his son again - longer if things went wrong. He also felt that tonight would be his last chance to finish a certain conversation. Hunter sighed, not wanting to leave Adam alone, but knowing that he had to, so as not to draw attention. He closed his eyes, the blackness enveloping him tightly, and when he opened them again, he was in the small cell-like room, the faint light from an oil lamp showing that addition of a camp bed someone must have dragged in. Hunter walked over and gently touched the sleeping Bev’s shoulder.

  The woman awoke with a start, snatching back from Hunter, eyeing him fearfully. But after a moment, she managed to calm herself.

  “What are you doing here?” She hissed, brushing her long dark hair out of her eyes, to see him better.

  Hunter frowned as he looked at her, something about her had changed, her very aura altered. “They… they bound your powers?” He asked hesitantly, referring to the old witch-hunter practise of binding a witch’s powers with the use on an artefact that would then be catalogued and stored. A practise that had ended when the Shadow Witch had broken the key and released every bound witch in the world, to wreak havoc and revenge.

  Bev sighed, looking weaker and older than she had just a day ago. “At least they let me live. Not that it matters, nothing does now. My magical heritage has never brought anything but trouble.”

  Hunter could only feel pity for this woman that was a shadow of her former, proud self. He moved to sit on the single, hard wooden chair in the room.

  “You once told me that you could have been the next Shadow Witch. What happened?”

  Bev looked at him with a faint smile. “You have a good memory.”

  She sat quietly on the camp bed, pulling the covers snugly about her. Bev gazed at Hunter for a while, as though assessing whether or not to be honest with him. But then she shrugged. After all, she had already admitted that nothing really mattered anymore.

  “I remember when they first approached me - the witches. It was my 30th birthday when they just turned up. They said that they were heir hunters, trying to find the descendent of Sara Murray. They asked a lot of questions, many I didn’t understand, but seemed satisfied with my answers. When I asked what I was due to inherit, they turned to one another and became conspiratorial. They told me what they were - witches - I didn’t believe them of course, so they cast a few showy spells to make their point. They told me what I was, what I could become. But I… I was wary. Up until that point I knew who I was, I was happy with my simple life and didn’t want to take on their fight and their cause.

  “They perhaps read my reluctance, but their eyes lit up with an intense greed when my daughter suddenly walked in. Sophie was thirteen and very angry back then. Always in trouble at school, disrespectful and challenging authority.”

  Hunter was caught by this little insight to Sophie’s youth. Up until then he had never considered what she had been like as a girl, but her mother’s description sounded very believable, that she had always been proud. Hunter half-smiled at his thoughts, and kept silent, not interrupting Bev’s story.

  “I hoped that it was just teenage rebellion, a passing phase. But I didn’t trust the way those witches looked at her, and I forbade them from approaching Sophie until she was at least sixteen. Much good it did. Soon after, Sophie changed, becoming quieter and more secretive. She’d always been proud, but she became almost arrogant. I was in a difficult position. I couldn’t come down hard on her, because I knew that would just push her straight to the witches, and I wanted to keep some influence over her, make sure she kept even a fragment of humanity and morality.

  “Then when she was sixteen, they gave her another witch’s power, a small taste of what she was to gain. And Sophie was hooked. Then finally when she was nineteen, news came through that the Shadow Witch’s power was to be returned. And… well, you know the rest.” Bev finished, her voice hollow and eyes empty, as though she had nothing left to live for. But then a small spark was remembered. “How’s Adam?”

  Hunter hesitated, still absorbing Bev’s little story. “He’s fine, reasonably settled and happy. I, ah, didn’t tell him you were here.”

  Bev blinked, but slowly nodded. “Of course, no need to upset him.” She mumbled, more to herself than to Hunter.

  “You said that Sophie would never put her trust in paternal affection, or men at all.” Hunter reminded quietly, gently pushing for information.

  “Well, she hardly had a good role model.” Bev almost snapped, then fell silent again.

  “I’m sorry, Sophie never mentioned her father, I don’t know…” Hunter replied, suddenly embarrassed at how little he knew about the woman he had claimed to love.

  Bev stared at him with that assessing gaze again, then eventually sighed. “Sophie’s father wasn’t there, because…”

  Bev broke off and looked away, into the darkness as her eyes gleamed with an old hurt. But after a minute’s composure she spoke again, quieter this time. “When I was sixteen years old I… I was raped by my boyfriend. Sophie was the result of that rape, but I kept her, and I loved her. I thought to keep her parentage from her, but secrets have a habit of coming out in the end. She grew very angry, and she blames you. Your family anyway.”

  Bev broke off, gazing curiously at Hunter, bemused at how things worked out. “As she sees it, if my grandmother, Sara Murray, had not been forced to strip her descendants of power to save them from George Astley V and others like him, then there would have been no way that a mere mortal man could… could…”

  “Bev… I didn’t know.” Hunter choked out after this shock confession. “I’m so sorry.”

  Bev waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, I don’t blame you. It’s in the past, and after all, I got my Sophie. Yes, I have learnt to come to terms with it.”

  “But Sophie?” Hunter asked gingerly.

  “Sophie is still torn between hating your family and loving you.” Bev replied with a smile. “And she got her revenge. After the witches delivered the Shadow power to her. Her father was the first person she killed.”

  Hunter sat in quiet shock. He could just imagine that sinful father taking a lone walk, when suddenly the shadows came to ensnare him and there - there would be the daughter he knew nothing of, a fierce and beautiful woman, driven by hate and vengeance.

  “I…” Hunter tried to start talking but found his voice unwilling. He coughed and began again. “I’m leaving in the morning on a mission. I’ll hopefully be back within the week, and I will return. We will talk again.”

  Bev half-smiled, her tired hazel eyes locked on Hunter as he rose from his chair. Her gaze did not falter as he stood there in the middle of her cell. And then suddenly he vanished, and Bev was left staring into space.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was a grey and dismal dawn, with wispy mist-like rain clinging to their hair and clothes. Hunter stood in the middle of the field, with Kristen beside him. The girl yawned, and huffed, and stamped her feet against the cold, making her displea
sure against this early departure very clear indeed.

  Hunter was a little more awake, although he’d hardly slept after last night’s revelations. Instead he’d stared unseeingly at Adam as he slept, watching how peaceful his son was. Although he didn’t want to admit it, even to himself, Hunter feared that Bev’s confessions would bring another dream upon him, tangible and real, and having the pain of seeing Sophie and understanding her a little better.

  During those sleepless hours, Hunter had allowed his mind to turn over those dreams. They were disturbingly real - he remembered the panic he had felt after the first dream, last year at the Abbazio di Donili. The Sophie in his dreams was the Sophie he remembered, but he still couldn’t explain how the Adam of his unconscious imagination matched the real Adam perfectly. The location had confused him for a while - why would their pretty family picture not be situated at his Astley Manor? But finally, the realisation dawned on him that they were at Beverley Murphy’s cottage near Keswick.

  But dreams were dreams, and no real answers came, though his mind ran over and over it.

  “Are we going or what?” Kristen snapped, fed up with waiting in the cold.

  Hunter blinked, dragging himself back to the present. “Yes, yes.” He muttered.

  At that moment Toby limped forward, hand outstretched. “Good luck, Hunter.”

  Hunter shook his hand. “Thanks. And you’ll…”

  “Look after Adam, yes I promise.” He confirmed with a reassuring smile. His wife Claire wasn’t fantastically happy with the arrangement, but she was slowly accepting that Adam was a sweet and innocent young boy, despite his unorthodox parentage.

  Happy that his son would be in safe hands Hunter swung his backpack over his shoulder and stepped back, holding his hand out to Kristen. The girl took it nonchalantly, but Hunter smiled at the cold sweat on her palm that she could not hide. With a nod to the Council members, they vanished.