Hunter looked at the shield from this side; the rhythm of the magic had the same familiarity as that of the machine. “This is the work of the Shadow Witch. It could take hours to find a weakness – if there was even one to be found.”
“You can’t just leave me here.” Kristen hissed.
“We don’t have much choice. I’ll destroy the machine and be back here before you know it.” Hunter promised.
“You better be. I’m giving you fifteen minutes Hunter, then I won’t be held responsible for my actions.”
Hunter silently swore but seeing how futile it would be getting into an argument with Kristen right now, he set off further into the house. There was the steady thrum of power that led him on. The machine. Hunter and the rest of the British MMC knew so little about it, save that the Americans had been experimenting with what they had commandeered from witches, rather than storing or destroying it.
Hunter followed his senses to the bowels of the house. What had originally been built as extensive cellars had been converted into storage rooms by the American MMC. He moved past the shelves of tempting artefacts, and on towards the source of the pulsing power.
It didn’t look impressive, a dark cabinet that came about waist high. Hunter felt along the wooden edges, looking for the opening. His hands spread over the pentagonal top, and prised it lose.
The inside shimmered silver and pearl. There were five mirrors on the inner panels, all reflecting a twisted glass block that hovered in the centre.
It was not quite the ‘machine’ that Hunter had been expecting. But he could scarce breathe from the thick waves of magic that emanated from such a simple thing. He stepped back to get a better view of it. A part of him had hoped there would simply be a plug to pull, or a switch to flip.
Hunter looked at the glass centre, he could read the rhythm of magic clearly – although the amplification was purely Sophie’s work, the basis was someone else’s. Something that could be changed, or broken.
Hunter’s fingers drummed against the edge of the cabinet. He could change the function of the machine. Standing over it, here and now, he could see how easy it would be for him to alter the basics. It wouldn’t be long before it pulsed out with anti-witch power that would leave the witches defenceless.
The thought had barely taken place, but Hunter could already feel the guilt weigh heavy upon him. He couldn’t do that to individuals like Laura Kuhn and Bev Murphy. Damn the Donili for messing with his moral compass!
Before he could change his mind, Hunter grasped the glass. It felt surprisingly cold against his skin as he lifted it out of the mirrored case. He threw it to the ground and watched it shatter. The magic in the room immediately shrunk back.
Just as Hunter thought that felt a little too easy, a wave of power exploded out, knocking him off balance. Hunter scrambled back to his feet, his head pounding with the alarm that refused to stop.
Hunter retraced his steps, hurrying back out of the basement level, listening for the sound of alerted witches above the drone of the alarm.
Hunter jogged up the stairs and back along the landing.
“Kristen.” He hissed, seeing no sign of the blasted woman.
At that moment a figure turned the corner at the far end of the corridor. The unknown woman froze in shock at the sight of the intruder, then she raised her hand. Hunter could feel offensive magic building up and pulled his shield around him.
Suddenly Kristen jumped out from the shadow of a doorway, her arm wrapping around the witch’s neck and tightening. The witch struggled, her hands clawing at Kristen’s sleeve, but eventually her eyes fluttered shut.
“You were supposed to keep out of trouble.” Hunter snapped.
“Yeah, well you left me in a house overrun with witches.” Kristen countered. She bent down to pick the unconscious witch up by the arms. “Help me put her with the other one.”
Hunter stooped to pick up the witch’s legs, and they lugged her towards the nearest broom closet.
Hunter looked down at the second slumped figure, a young male witch.
“You’ve been busy.”
“I know, as I said-”
“I’m sorry.” Hunter interrupted before she could start again. “But let’s get out of here before all hell breaks loose.”
“You should have thought of that before setting of that blasted alarm.” Kristen snapped, but willingly followed Hunter as they made their way through the maze of corridors.
They made it all the way to the back door, when Hunter suddenly stopped, Kristen slamming into the back of him.
Three people blocked the way, one of them kneeling down to check the pulse of the two witches Hunter had knocked out earlier. They immediately locked onto the trespassers; Hunter could feel the build of magic as two of them prepared to cast. The third was apparently human and pulled out a gun instead.
Hunter reached for Kristen’s hand, ready to blink them out of here; but the American had other ideas and pushed past him, barrelling towards the new enemy.
Hunter swore beneath his breath, pulling his shield up just in time to catch the opening spells of the witches. He felt the magic dissipate in the air but had no time to work out what game the witches were playing as he went for the gunman. He knocked the gun aside as a shot fired, mercifully wide; then twisted the man’s arm until he dropped it.
Hunter looked coldly into the eyes of the weak human, disgusted that any person could choose to serve the witches that were intent of stamping down the world. But he was still human, and Hunter couldn’t bring himself to kill him. A swift blow to the temple made the man crumple to the ground, unconscious, but alive.
Hunter turned to see Kristen dispatching the second witch.
“Don’t you remember your training – hit the gunman first.”
Kristen raised a brow. “Sorry, I was preoccupied.”
Before he could make a retort, Kristen stepped away the bodies and out into the cool night air. She darted across the dark lawn, Hunter following close behind her. The house was really beginning to stir, each window quickly becoming lit.
He paused at the wall, listening for any out-lying guards; but everybody seemed to be converging on the house.
Realising that Kristen had already climbed the boundary wall and was ahead of him
Hunter followed Kristen as she ran back to the park, his 7th gen night-sight easily keeping track of her figure in the dark. He felt the adrenaline rush washing over him. It had been a success – one major advantage removed from the witches. Hunter again felt the regret that he couldn’t do more to completely overturn it, but he had sworn a promise to the Donili.
Up ahead, Kristin shouted to hurry him up, as she ran on towards a still, silvery surface.
Hunter caught up to her as she reached the partially man-made lake, a lonely pier casting a shadow over it, and a lake house hunkered on its edge.
Kristen jumped up the porch steps and pushed open the door. The place was abandoned, everything of value stripped out long ago. Such a shame for a fine husk of a building.
“Now, why did we have to run all the way out here?” Hunter asked, hovering in the doorway.
“Sorry, adrenaline rush.” Kristen said, her blush showing in the dark. “It was either run here, or… ahm. So, a friend told me about this place and I suddenly wanted to come see it.”
Kristen pushed a lock of blonde hair behind her ear and looked about the immediate vicinity. “Not quite how he described it.”
Hunter stepped into the bare room. “It’s not the worst place I’ve seen.”
So much of the world ruined – all manner of thugs and thieves taking advantage of the discord. But also, surprisingly, the same discord had given so many normal people the spark to step up and shine brighter as they defended their home, their neighbourhood, even their country.
Hunter walked up to Kristen, not thinking, only knowing that he had grown accustomed to being comforted by her presence. Perhaps it was because she was a very capable 6th gen – he didn’t have to w
orry about her, she could take care of herself. Or perhaps it was because she was a link to his past, the daughter of his mentor; although he never looked at Brian in the same way.
There was nothing wrong with putting a friendly hand on her shoulder, but Hunter frowned as Kristen winced away from his touch.
“You’re hurt?” He voiced. “Why didn’t you say?”
Kristen bit her lip. “It’s nothing; a scratch. I’ll patch it up when we get back.”
“Nonsense, come outside so I can see it better.” Hunter insisted.
Outside, the full moon was distant in the night sky, its faint light making out the clean shapes.
Hunter walked towards the lake, picking a spot to sit where they were free from shadows. He looked up expectantly to Kristen, then patted the ground beside him. “Sit down, let me see your shoulder.”
Kristen hovered next to him, then obediently sat down, with her back to Hunter. She gingerly pulled her jumper over her head, revealing her pale skin and blood-stained tank top. “See, it’s nothing.”
Hunter tutted, looking over the gash across her shoulder blade. It wasn’t deep and most the bleeding has already stopped, but Hunter was sure that didn’t make it any less painful.
“Hold still.” He murmured. Hunter lightly pressed his fingers about the wound, then closed his eyes and focussed on what the Donili had managed to teach him.
After a minute’s silence, Kristen squirmed, trying to see over her shoulder. “What are you doing? I’ve bandages in my pack if you’ve forgotten them.”
“Shush and sit still.” Hunter repeated. “I’m knitting the wound closed.”
“One of your tricks?” Kristen asked as she sat straight again.
Hunter sighed. “Yes, one of my tricks.” He admitted quietly. Hunter concentrated again on her injury. It was not difficult, even for the relatively unskilled Hunter. He remembered the headaches and sickness he felt when he had tried to heal worse wounds than this. Healing Kristen’s gash caused no detrimental effect to himself.
Hunter opened his eyes, happy that the work was done. He went into his pack to find an antiseptic wipe, cleaning away the blood from her shoulder blade. The skin beneath was pink and tender, but no sign of the injury.
“Nifty trick, I’ll have to remember it.” Kristen said. She sighed with satisfaction and pulled her blonde hair out of the way of Hunter’s gentle touch. “If I’d known this was all it would take to get some attention from you, I would have let a witch stab me earlier.”
Hunter smiled at her comment, as he leant forward and kissed her bare shoulder, earning a gasp from Miss Davies.
“Y-you’re not going to spoil the moment and say we’re heading home now?” Kristen asked, a hint of hurt beneath her voice.
“Not just yet.” Hunter murmured, pulling her closer.
Chapter Thirty
“You’re back, finally.” Jack remarked, not hiding his relief. “How did it go? Were you successful?”
Hunter reluctantly let go of Kristen’s hand and moved to sit down in the comfy seats by the fireplace.
“Yes, it worked out better than I could have hoped.” Hunter stated, his eyes following Kristen as she sat across from him. A mischievous smirk crossed her lips, but the American didn’t say a word.
Jack caught the look and glanced between the two, his suspicions raised.
“Brilliant.” Shaun crowed. The young man immediately picked up the house phone. He put the receiver to his ear and his face dropped. “It’s still not working.”
Hunter shrugged. “Magic will no longer interfere with technology. But we have five years of disuse to contend with. It could take months, or even years to repair the deficit.”
Shaun replaced the phone in its cradle and looked to Jack for support. “So, this won’t help us in this war?”
Hunter ignored the confused look Kristen was trying to get across to him. “No, it likely will not. Unless the news of it can be used to put the witches off their stride.”
“You need to think long-term, Shaun.” Jack said in support of Hunter vocally, although he looked far from convinced.
Hunter sighed. “I’m absolutely knackered. I wanted to see my son before I crash. Where is Adam?”
Shaun snapped out of his daze of disappointment. “He and Mel are in Mrs Astley’s quarters.”
Hunter stopped in his movements. “I’m sorry, Mel is in my mother’s rooms?”
“Um, yeah.” Shaun confirmed. “Mrs Astley invited her after breakfast. I think she thinks Mel is a nanny.”
Hunter swore beneath his breath and got to his feet; there were far too many things wrong in that picture.
Hunter made his way up the main staircase but stopped as he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to see Kristen catch up with him.
“Kristen?”
“Why did we do it, Hunter?” She asked, her blue eyes hard and demanding.
“Can you be a little more specific?”
Kristen blushed, but didn’t drop her gaze. “Why did we destroy the witches’ device now? Why not just wait for the war to be over?”
Hunter took a step down, coming closer to Kristen. He reached out and gently brushed his fingers against her waist, a crackle of electricity went between them and he wasn’t about to deny it.
“You didn’t enjoy Washington?” He asked in a low voice.
Kristen leant in closer, her eyes closing and her soft lips parting – but then she snapped out of it and batted Hunter’s hand away.
“Don’t try and distract me, Hunter. There’s something you’re not telling us.”
“There’s plenty I’m not telling you, I’m sure.” Hunter replied wearily. “It may take months to start fixing even the basics, but the sooner we get the ball rolling the better.”
Not to mention that Hunter couldn’t guarantee that he would be around after the war to destroy the machine. The Donili’s prophecy hung heavy above him, as much as he tried to logically deny it.
“Now, if you don’t mind, I’m off to face my mother.” Hunter added, moving up the staircase again. “You’re welcome to come.”
Hunter saw that doubt cloud Kristen’s face from the very idea of being voluntarily in Mrs Astley’s presence.
“No, I thought not.” Hunter muttered beneath his breath, a little disappointed that he had to deal with his mother by himself.
As Hunter walked along the corridor to his mother’s quarters, he could hear piano music drifting out, beautiful in its simplicity.
Hunter pushed the door open to see Mel sitting at his mother’s gleaming Bösendorfer piano. Mrs Astley sat on the large leather settee, Adam beside her, a book open on his lap.
Mrs Astley looked calmly up at the interruption. “Oh George, you’re back. Only gone for one night, this time?” The woman huffed. “You take after your father, swanning off and returning when it suits. Having a fine old time, I daresay.”
Hunter had heard this too many times to let it wind him up. “I told you yesterday, mother, I went to Washington DC to destroy that American machine. We can bring back technology now.”
“Why bother.” Mrs Astley said dismissively. “The world is better without it.”
Hunter didn’t know whether to smile or groan. It was too much to expect any sort of praise or concern from his mother.
“Miss Myfanwy plays quite well.” Mrs Astley commented, decidedly changing the topic of conversation. “But then, I always find that those with special needs have talent that surpasses the rest of us.”
“Mother! Mel does not have special needs. She is…” Hunter broke off. What could he tell his mother, that Mel was a demon, a servant of Satan? And worse, that Mel found Mrs Astley scarier than her master?
“I do wish you would see people for what they are, George. No wonder that Sophie girl duped you.” Mrs Astley remarked, glancing down at Adam, her gaze softening. She clearly didn’t care what had gone wrong with her son and Sophie, when the outcome had given her a grandson.
Hunter felt di
stinctly nauseous. “Right I need to get some sleep. Adam, are you ok staying with Grandma Astley?”
Adam scrunched up his face. “But it’s only lunch time, daddy!”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” Hunter said quickly, some amusement slipping through the fatigue. “If you would like, I can ask Shaun to practise football with you again.”
Adam sat thinking about it, pulling the big old book close about his chest. Hunter could see the familiar early edition of ‘Winnie the Pooh’ – obviously Mrs Astley was playing the doting grandmother.
“Later.” Adam decided, opening his book again. “Night, dad.”
Chapter Thirty-one
That night, Hunter was in a deep and dreamless sleep when he was suddenly awoken by a flying five-year-old.
“Dad, dad! A monk is here!” Adam shouted, bouncing erratically on the bed, his bony knee hitting Hunter’s stomach and making him groan.
Not happy with how slow his father was reacting, Adam grabbed the spare pillow and hit him as hard as his young arms could manage.
“I’m awake, I’m awake!” Hunter protested, pinning his son’s arms down before the boy could take another swing.
“What time is it?” Hunter croaked, glancing at the curtain-covered windows. There was hardly any light coming through the gaps, so he guessed it was ridiculously early.
“Adam, why are you up this early?” Hunter asked, more out of exasperation than any real desire for an answer. “How did you know one of the monks had arrived – you were supposed to be in bed.”
“Incy saw him in the living room, he woke me up and told me.”
Hunter groaned. He was definitely restricting how much time Adam spent with Mel from now on. Something – some missing link, nagged at his subconscious, but Hunter wasn’t awake enough to pay it attention.
“Right, how about an early breakfast?” Hunter threw his duvet over Adam’s head and took a moment to pull on his slippers and dressing gown to keep away the chill that permeated through Astley Manor even in summer.
“Yes!” Came Adam’s muffled reply, as he shuffled out of the duvet and off the bed. “Can I have Coco Pops? Jack found some and said I can have them.”
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