Hunter recognised the faltering, almost questioning pitch of his statement. “What did she say to you?”
“That I have good diction, for a foreigner.” Biagio answered. “Is this good?”
“Yes, that’s positively a compliment.”
“Better than I got.” Marcus contested. “’Dressed inappropriately for my station,’ and ‘they should insist on foreigners knowing good English before they are allowed to visit’.”
“Please take a seat, Biagio, and tell us why you are really here.” Hunter said before things could get silly.
Biagio did so and looked rather pleased with himself. “Well, as you know, I have been to see Fraulein Kuhn. She sends her best wishes, Giorgio, and wanted me to convey that no harm came to her after your escape. Actually, she was so impressed that you managed to escape, that she is confident in strengthening the alliance between you!”
Hunter sat up a little straighter – there was an unexpected bonus. When Hunter had escaped with Mel and Kristen, he had been consumed with relief that they had avoided the Shadow Witch; it had not occurred to him that they could have inspired any great opinion.
“Fraulein Kuhn explained that there was an artefact that belonged to Germany. Something that was stolen long ago. The British witches recently returned it to the Witches Rat as an emblem of peace and unity.” Biagio went on, savouring every last word and moment of anticipation until his audience looked ready to hit him.
The monk went into his satchel and pulled out an object wrapped in black silk. Putting it down on the garden table deferentially, Biagio began to fold back the covering.
Hunter’s breath caught in his throat and he could not tear his eyes away from the object.
Biagio coughed to get their attention, obviously pleased with their reactions. “Fraulein Kuhn expressed that if this knife was to belong to anyone, it would belong to you, Giorgio.”
Hunter leant forward in his seat and reached out until his fingers brushed the black silk – he dared not touch the knife itself. It did not look how he had imagined it would, a blunt and chipped relic that betrayed the many years of its existence. The narrow grey blade gleamed in the bright summer sun, and the handle was ivory and simple in fashion. He could not see the words ‘For Her Hand Only’ etched into it, not on this side anyway.
“The Abate consented that this was a gift for you, from Fraulein Kuhn, and therefore removes responsibility of this item from the Donili.”
Hunter looked up at Biagio, trying to work out the Abate’s true meaning.
Biagio sighed, having hoped that his more flowery expression would be satisfactory. “Padre said that he agrees the knife belongs with you. He wished for you to have it before the Donili meeting, so the other elders could not interfere with what is a morally grey area.”
Hunter slowly let out his breath. Here it was, the one known thing that could end the life of a Shadow Witch. He looked for a certain someone, wanting verified.
“Mel?”
Hearing her name, Mel stopped plaiting Kristen’s hair and danced over to the garden table.
Hunter noticed how both monks shrank back at the arrival of the little blonde girl. Hunter stull hadn’t forgiven her over the familiar, but he couldn’t understand how the monks were so naturally repulsed by Mel.
“Mel, can you tell me anything about this?”
Mel looked down at the table and immediately her normally carefree expression froze. It was the first time Hunter had seen her look fearful.
“It… it is Sabine’s, the weapon of the Shadow Witch.” Mel answered in a small voice. “When she wields it, it will always claim it’s victim. Wiccans and witches, monks and demons…”
“And demons?” Biagio echoed with unnecessary interest.
“It was a gift to Sabine, the gift of death.” Mel said quietly.
“From Lucifer?” Hunter asked, filled with distaste that the blade was from Mel’s boss.
Mel shook her head. “She was given the gift of death because we knew one day, a hundred years after the witch-craze started, Sabine would grow weary of life. She fell in love with a mortal man, and after he died, she had the one tool that could allow her to join him.”
Obviously, content with her part, Mel left and drifted back to here Kristen sat, the American alert and eavesdropping.
“Why do I feel that every time I get one answer, I get a hundred new questions.” Hunter muttered, looking at the dagger.
“I concur. I am not happy with the ambiguity of her answers.” Biagio added. At the looks he received from Hunter and Marcus, Biagio turned sheepish. “I do not like what I do not know.”
“Well, get back to the Abate and inform him on our new mysteries.” Hunter said with a grim smile.
Biagio bowed his head. “I shall see you at the meeting in a few days.”
“You’re not staying for dinner, Biagio? My mother will be disappointed.”
Biagio suddenly looked worried at the prospect of upsetting Mrs Astley.
“Go Biagio, I will make your excuses.” Hunter insisted.
Nobody particularly enjoyed Mrs Astley’s company, but the feeling was normally mutual. Mrs Astley often didn’t like or approve of those she was forced to spend time with. Hunter didn’t know if he felt sorrier for Biagio for potentially having his mother’s favour.
Chapter Thirty-three
The morning of the meeting, Hunter blinked over to Donili Village, taking Adam and Kristen with him. Mel travelled using her own method; and Marcus brought along Shaun, who had dropped blatant hints that he wanted to come.
Jack and Mrs Astley had also been invited in the end, but Hunter’s mother refused to make a trip abroad on so little notice; and Jack selflessly decided to stay so there was at least one witch-hunter at the Manor. Not that he thought any witch or demon would be brave enough to take on Mrs Astley.
Donili Village was as bright and beautiful as ever, the green of the surrounding forest, and the glint of the nearby lake. The Abbazia stood out on the top of the hill, ruling over the landscape.
Hunter briefly stopped by to let them know of his arrival, then headed to Marcus’ house to await the midday meeting.
He didn’t know what would happen at the meeting, or what to expect. Impatience burned through his veins, so instead of stopping when he reached his friend’s house, Hunter kept going, breaking into a jog.
When Hunter hear another set of footsteps join his, he started to run.
Donili Village was soon left behind, and the track became narrower as it entered the trees. It was simply a blur of green as Hunter ran down the track that weaved between the great trunks. It was not long before the glinting lake could be seen, and Hunter only stopped when he was at the water’s edge. He looked out over the peaceful and familiar scene, while he rolled the tenseness out of his shoulders and stretched his stiff limbs.
“Hey Hunter, not running back to England, are you?” Kristen called out as she slowed to a jog and stopped beside him. “You can really run.”
Hunter glanced over to her, not sure if he wanted company. “Thank you, Miss Davies. I had already noticed.”
Kristen snorted at his lack of humility, making Hunter soften a little.
“You almost kept up.” He offered.
“Shut up, we both know that’s a lie.” Kristen said with a laugh. “You know, I always thought being a 6th gen was pretty awesome, but just a few weeks with you and I’m feeling disgustingly average instead. I wish I had been born a generation later.”
Hunter inwardly sighed at her comments – yes, it was just a lucky chance of birth that had given him these powers. Would that he had been born someone else, someone average and non-influential.
“I’m going for a run, want to come?”
Kristen looked at him warily. “How far?”
“Just a lap of the lake.”
Kristen smiled at the challenge and took the track to the right.
Hunter watched her disappear into the trees and gave her a ten second
head-start, before following her. Kristen may not be as fast as Hunter, but she was easily as nimble as him, not slowing down as she darted between the trees and raced on.
Hunter felt his own pulse start to beat faster, his breaths coarse from the exertion. They had gone over a third of the way round when Hunter finally caught up with her.
“So… why the run… this morning?” Kristen asked between breaths, not breaking stride.
“I had too much energy.” Hunter answered. “I couldn’t risk getting frustrated by something stupid at the meeting later and potentially hitting someone.”
“Well… Colin Dawkins is gonna be there, I’ll understand if you want to hit him anyway.” Kristen answered, flashing Hunter a mischievous look before concentrating on the path ahead. “What’s his beef with you anyway?”
“Pass.” Hunter replied. He honestly couldn’t think why the now-General always reacted with hostility towards him.
“You know, there are better ways to expend energy.” Kristen said, glancing over her shoulder at Hunter.
Before he had a chance to react, Kristen put on the brakes and threw her weight into her shoulder. When Hunter collided with her, she quickly spun him off balance and let the momentum carry them both down.
Hunter grunted as he hit the ground, his hands quickly found Kristen’s waist, but he didn’t hurry to push her away.
“I think I like your method of distraction.”
“I thought you might.” Kristen said with a satisfied smirk, before she kissed him.
Chapter Thirty-four
The meeting took place in the Abbazia. Hunter and Kristen were ushered into the auditorium where Hunter had once had lessons alongside the young monks. The seats rose in tiered levels on all four sides, so that all could see, and be seen.
The room thrummed with energy, filled with more people than Hunter had imagined. Besides the monks, there were some he recognised – Colin and Theresa, supporting the British MMC; David and Terry from the Australian MMC; Annette and her little assistant from France. And Laura Kuhn. Hunter paused, shocked that the witch should be present. Laura looked up, recognition in her eyes, but before they could greet each other, they were called to take their seats.
“Benvenuto, signore e signori.” The Abate took the floor, calmly taking in the crowd with his grey eyes. “Primo, if you do not understand Italian, your assigned Donili monk will translate.”
Hunter lowered his head to Kristen’s and quickly translated for her. A flash of annoyance crossed her face, and Hunter could only hope that she would be satisfied with his relay of the meeting.
The Abate waited for the murmured conversations to die down, then continued in rapid Italian. “You are all welcome to the first meeting of witch-hunters, witches and wiccans alike.”
There was a lull as his words were translated, then the hall erupted. People were on their feet, most looking betrayed, and many looking angry.
Hunter got the impression that the Donili had been less than forthcoming on what this meeting would entail. He looked down at the Abate, who wore that same amused expression he always had at Hunter’s outbursts.
“Silenzio!” The Abate finally shouted. “The Abbazia will play a neutral ground for all parties at this and future meetings. As long as you are in these walls no magic will work, and no violence will be tolerated.”
As he translated this to Kristen, Hunter wondered if ‘no magic’ was supposed to include Mel. He’d witnessed the blonde demon break the Donili rules; it would be a shame if she popped up now and ruined padre’s speech. Hunter but back a smile and forced himself not to think of Mel, in case that was all it took to summon her.
“This is the future, ladies and gentlemen. Where the Malleus Maleficarum and the Witches Council unite as equals to govern themselves.” The Abate continued. “Finer details can be worked out in your own countries once the war is won.”
The Abate went on to discuss each country, calling on every representative. Each comment and description was brief, but it still took two hours to complete the hall.
Hunter sat and quietly translated throughout, noting how the stories were all so familiar. Everyone was on the verge of rebelling and only needed the final push. Even the witches were alert and ready for the chance to change things.
Luckily Hunter was not the only British MMC representative, and General Dawkins keenly took the spotlight. Colin said his piece, and Hunter wondered how he’d never noticed what a pompous arse he was. Huh, probably because he’d previously considered Colin a friend, when the soldier had obviously only been humouring him while General Hayworth was in charge.
Hunter was snapped out of his train of thought by a sharp elbow from Miss Davies. He looked accusingly at the American – surely, she didn’t need Dawkins translating.
Kristen nodded to the Abate in response, and Hunter suddenly noticed that all focus was on him.
“Signor Astley, if you please?”
“What?”
“Our mission in Washington.” Kristen hissed.
“Oh right.” Hunter muttered, getting stiffly to his feet. The run this morning followed by sitting still for two hours was not a good idea.
“As you all know, five years ago the witches used a device from the American MMC to disrupt technology to set us all at a disadvantage. I thought you may all like to know that it has been disabled. Everything is still a long way from being restored, but this is more proof that things are moving in our favour.” Hunter finished and sat down.
The hall was filled with murmured translations which were followed by expressions of polite interest. Not quite the reaction Hunter had hoped for.
“Jeez, what have you gotta do to impress people around here?” Kristen muttered beside him.
On the floor, the Abate held his hands up for attention.
“I am sure there is much more to say.” The Abate continued in Italian. “And the Abbazia di Donili is open to all of you, if you wish to stay the rest of the day. But you must bring the battle back to those that delight in murder and sin. I recommend making a stand at the next full moon. Delaying will likely help no one.”
The room became a buzz of voices again, and the Abate waited patiently for his audience to settle again.
“The longer we wait the more chance the Shadow Witch and her council will have to discover our plans. We cannot give them time to corrupt this alliance between hunters and witches.”
The Abate paused and Hunter was surprised to see a flash of uncertainty cross the older man’s features. The Abate glanced to where the other senior monks sat.
“As many of you have been told, the Donili’s interference was only going to extend to playing the messenger and neutral party in this conflict. But we have decided to go one step further.”
Despite the crowded hall, the Abate’s eyes found Hunter’s.
“To reduce the lives lost and to ensure a swift conclusion to the war, the Donili monks will be joining you on the front line; we will block unfriendly magic.”
Hunter felt his pulse race. The Donili had changed their minds! It was only Kristen’s hand on his arm that stopped him from getting up from his seat as the shock of excitement flooded through him.
Anything was possible now.
Chapter Thirty-five
The sun had set, and it was proving to be a warm autumn evening.
News had filtered through to the witches that an opposing force was massing. The spies were all running home with the same information – that the witch-hunters had somehow managed to pull together numbers not seen since Salisbury Plains.
The Shadow Witch was hardly concerned. They had crushed them before; they would crush them again. And this time, she would put an end to Hunter Astley.
The other witches on the council had sent a wiccan servant to help her get ready for the battle. The Shadow Witch looked down at her now as she laced up the sturdy black boots. The Shadow Witch, the most powerful witch for a thousand years, hardly needed a servant to help her dress.
She glanced to her right, to where her full-length mirror stood. Sophie took in the dark circles under her eyes and the drained, pale look despite her summer tan. She pushed back a lock of dark brown hair that had already fallen out of her plait. Sophie was quite sure the rest of the witches didn’t notice how worn she looked these days; ever since Adam had been taken, she had not slept and had travelled across the world at the slightest hint of his presence.
As the days had turned into weeks, she had only become more desperate. She could not understand how she was unable to find him, she very much doubted that Hunter had the power to block her son from her. Oh, she was certain that Adam was with Hunter, but it made her worry over who else was involved; who had managed to shield Adam from her.
Upon hearing the news that the pathetic remnants of the witch-hunters were rallying against them, Sophie was determined to face them. After all, wherever the witch-hunters went, Hunter would surely be involved.
She swallowed down the lump that rose in her throat as she thought of Hunter. She wasn’t still in love with him; for the sake of her kin, she couldn’t be. Sophie had been plagued by dreams that had allowed her fantasies and delusions to live. But no more. She had to remember that this was George ‘Hunter’ Astley, killer of witches; the man that dared to kidnap her innocent son.
She thought back to the many times she had given him the opportunity to see sense, to put aside the conflict and live peacefully with her. How many times had his leniency cost her, her reputation and influence amongst the witches had never been lower. She would not give him the chance again.
“Is there anything else, ma’am?”
Sophie was brought back to the present by the timid voice. She glanced over at the wiccan that now stood with her eyes deferentially lowered. Sophie exhaled, trying not to show the distaste she felt for this woman. For all wiccans; the grasping, leeching creatures. She had punished enough of them over the last few years; an example had to be made of those that dared to use magic that did not belong to them.
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