Witch Hunter Trilogy Box Set

by K. S. Marsden

  “I found out how Sara Murray died.” Hunter suddenly stated, wanting to shift the focus away from Kristen.

  “Killed by your grandfather, I know.” Sophie snapped, frowning at the swift change in topic.

  Hunter shook his head. “No, she was actually friends with Old George; and he loved her, would never have hurt her. Not that he could have. It turns out that the only way for a Shadow Witch to die is if she uses her own dagger to take her life.”

  “The dagger… you’re lying.” Sophie protested.

  “The gift of death – by her hand only.” Hunter quoted. “I have a letter written by your great-grandmother as proof. It is in the Manor.”

  Sophie hissed through her teeth. “I bet you would just love to get me inside the Manor. Block my powers, never let me out again, is that the grand plan Hunter?”

  “No… we’re never seeing the Manor again.” He replied with a pained grimace.

  Sophie stopped and finally paid attention to him. She slowly knelt beside him, and then gently reached out for Hunter’s hand. Her breath hitched as she saw the red stain on his palm, and she felt his black jumper to confirm the source.

  “You… you…” Sophie stuttered, her pale face blanching further. “You gave your life for that American bitch? You kill us both to save her? Do you have any idea what you have done?!”

  “You inflicted the blow, I just took… took advantage of it.” Hunter said, quiet in response to her anger. His hand resting gently on top of hers. “I am making a better world for our son.”

  Sophie snatched her hand away and without a thought, slapped him. “And you think that makes it ok? You think I’m going to lie down and accept it! Bastard!”

  She lashed out again and after the first blow, Hunter tried to stop her. He wrapped his arms about her, struggling as she flailed wildly.

  He grunted in pain as Sophie’s knee connected with his thigh – clearly aiming for something more painful.

  “Change it.” Sophie demanded, her voice rougher for her screams.

  “I can’t.” Hunter murmured. “It’s too late.”

  “Adam…” Sophie’s body shook and she made the conscious effort to sit beside Hunter with what was left of her grace.

  “He’ll be fine. Toby and Claire will look after him, as though he were their own.” Hunter said, his eyes drifting shut as he imagined his son’s bright future. “He will grow up in a world where the two sides of him can be at peace. The monks will see to his training when he’s older…”

  “And we’ll just fade.” Sophie said, bitterness clinging to her voice.

  “No, not fade; we will exist forever.” Hunter replied, his breaths becoming shallower. “No one will ever find us here.”

  Hunter tilted his head to look up. The misty, pastel clouds were tinged with pink, and the sun was just starting to creep over the horizon. The barren, rolling hills still dark against the sunrise.

  He smiled. “A new day.”

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Kristen awoke to find herself alone. As she sat up, she felt very sore, but very much alive. As the events of last night hit her, she broke into tearful sobs, curling back up on the floor as she waited for the shock to pass.

  Eventually she got back to her feet, wavering a little, but knowing that she had to find the others. Kristen squinted in the bright sunlight that flooded through the windows, a piercing headache from the suffocating build-up of magic in this room. She had to get out.

  Kristen stumbled outside, taking deep breaths as she waited for her head to clear. The summer sun beat down, warming her cold limbs, but as she tried to walk, she fell to her knees on the gravelled path. Faced with the challenge of trying to get back to the MMC, Kristen silently cursed Hunter for blinking them here – he should have insisted she drive over if the bastard had been planning on leaving her.

  As her thoughts strayed to him, emotion welled up in her throat. Kristen bit it down and concentrated on the basics, of breathing and her dubious balance.

  “Mel.” She mumbled, then through her head back to shout. “Mel!”

  There was the soft sway of a white summer dress beside her as the demon silently appeared. “Yes, Kristen?”

  Mel knelt down, her usually carefree expression clouded with concern, as her blue eyes took in the signs of damage to her friend. For once, she seemed at a loss for what to say. Biting her lip, she pulled out a handkerchief and wiped some of the drying blood from Kristen’s face.

  “He- he’s gone.” Kristen gasped.

  “I know.” Mel said quietly.

  “Is there anything you can do?” Kristen begged.

  Mel put her finger on Kristen’s lips to shush her. “Don’t let Lucy hear; George said he wasn’t allowed to help.”

  “I don’t-” Kristen took a deep breath and blinked back fresh tears. Hunter and the Donili monks had all advised against invoking the devil. But Kristen wondered if it might not be worth it, to bring Hunter back, especially when it was her fault he had gone. Her hand strayed to her stomach, which was tender to the touch.

  “I need to get back to the others.” Kristen said, before she could be further tempted. “Can you take me to them, please?”

  Mel smiled and placed her hand on Kristen’s shoulder…

  The battleground looked like organised chaos. Those that were able-bodied helped the injured in a makeshift hospital. Some had the unwelcome but necessary task of retrieving the dead, working in pairs as they gently laid the fallen in a line to be identified.

  There were not many dead; it looked like the Donili had done their duty well, in discouraging the witches. Then when the rebel witches had switched sides, their once-comrades must have followed suit or scarpered. Fighting on would have been martyrdom.

  Kristen got to her feet, taking in the scene. There was still the throb of magic in the air, but it was quickly diluting into the open space. Kristen’s headache was becoming a much more mundane thing, no longer a signal that her witch-hunter side should be on high alert.

  Kristen spotted a group of men and women surveying the field, and as they moved along, she recognised the distinctive limp of Toby Robson. Ignoring the aching pain and complaints her body was making, Kristen started to move towards them. Mel moved with her, supporting her with a surprising strength.

  Toby saw them and immediately looked past the girls for her friend. “Hunter?”

  Kristen shook her head. “He and the Shad- Sophie – they’re gone. Hunter asked if you would take on Adam.” Kristen blurted out, stating the important stuff before her emotions got the better of her again.

  Toby froze, his face blanching of colour. “How are we going to do this without him?”

  The new world

  Theresa straightened her jacket as she stood up. “It is an honour to welcome you all to the first meeting of the new Malleus Maleficarum Council. It has been decided that from this day on the MMC will enforce the new laws that give witches the same rights and responsibilities as other civilians.”

  She paused and looked about the room, taking in the new faces alongside the familiar. “The Council itself will have two representatives from the witchkind…”

  Those that gathered were clearly uncomfortable. It had only been a few weeks since the final battle and tensions were still high.

  There were many more important things to do in rebuilding the world. Just when there had become a new normal, the equilibrium had shifted again.

  The country was busy rebuilding. There were plans for housing and power, for simple things they had all taken for granted before the war.

  The Council had agreed that they needed to establish the basics before they could move forward.

  The witches had a whole manifest of new rules, as to what they could and could not do. To what influence they were allowed to have. Sacrifices and all other means of unnaturally gaining power were banned. Theresa had the unhappy task of laying down the new laws. She looked around the witches in the council; some had been more vocal than oth
ers in the disagreement. She imagined there would be months, or even years before they established real peace and understanding.

  The changes the witch-hunters had to bear were equally drastic in Theresa’s eyes. They had to open up their operation to the scrutiny of everybody.

  The meeting drew to a close with more questions arising than were answered. Theresa picked up her leather briefcase and made her way outside.

  The autumn rain had a chill to it, but she turned down her taxi in favour of the walk. She needed it. Theresa turned up the collar on her coat and made her way across the grey courtyard, pausing at a plaque by the main gate.

  It was completely blank, the inscription yet to be decided upon.

  Honestly, Theresa preferred at as it currently was. She murmured a prayer to the many lost over the last few years. Just considering those she had personally known – the list was too long. She only hoped she did them proud.

  Theresa shivered, chilled by the ghosts more than the rain. With one last glance at the plaque, she moved on, to walk the streets of London, to finally go home.

  Epilogue

  Two dark-haired children were rolling over in a heap when the boy suddenly vanished.

  “No fair, that’s cheating Adam.” The girl called out, getting to her feet. She was twelve years old and her lanky limbs had an adolescent awkwardness about them.

  Adam, at eleven, was half a foot shorter. He reappeared behind Molly, pinning his arms around her.

  “Is not. In a real fight, we have to use everything we’ve got.”

  Molly struggled, trying to get free, her face reddening as she tried to resist the temptation to throw her head back and break the younger kid’s nose.

  “Auntie Kristen?” Molly pleaded.

  Their trainer and referee looked up from the book she was reading beside their makeshift training grounds in the garden.

  “Adam, let go of Molly.” Kristen said, giving him a look to say she wasn’t joking. “You are both here to improve, and neither of you is going to get faster or stronger if you keep disappearing mid-fight.”

  Kristen sighed. Since Mel had taught Adam how to blink for a seventh birthday present, Adam too frequently chose to use his power to get out of many things. More than once, his foster-father had tried to ground him and, instead of staying in his room, Adam would blink away to the beach. Usually taking Molly with him.

  “Save your tricks for when you’re fighting as a real witch-hunter.”

  Adam pouted, hating when his auntie labelled his gifts as mere ‘tricks’. But he obediently let go of Molly.

  Molly rubbed her arms. “I heard Macclemore Senior saying that we shouldn’t be called witch-hunters anymore. That it’s not politically correct.” Molly stated in a grown-up voice.

  Kristen snorted. “Sure, whatever.”

  “You don’t think so? I mean, it does discriminate.” She said, chancing a glance at Adam. It was no secret that he was half-witch, even if that half had been bound when his mother died.

  Kristen shrugged. “It’s just a name. Besides, ‘witch-hunter; witch-hunter-hunter; and all-round-paranormal-police’ is a bit of a mouthful.”

  Molly and Adam laughed at the face their cool Auntie Kristen pulled.

  “Enough, start again. No cheating.” Kristen announced.

  Molly grinned at Adam, and before the younger boy could move, she flipped him and pinned him to the ground with her knees.

  “You ok, little bro?” She asked, batting her eyelashes innocently.

  Adam squirmed, then dropped his head back on the ground in defeat.

  “You might be bigger and stronger than me now, but just wait. This summer I’m joining the Donili and they’re gonna teach me everything.”

  Molly pushed herself off. “Good, I can’t wait to get rid of you, loser.” She held out her hand to help him up. Honestly, she was going to miss him. A lot. They had grown up together as one big, dysfunctional family.

  But everything was about to change. Adam would go to the Donili and Molly would be starting apprentice duties with the MMC when she turned thirteen in autumn. Who knew when they’d next see each other.

  Kristen noticed the flash of depression in Molly’s soft brown eyes. “Hey, maybe your dad will take you all on holiday to Friuli for Christmas.”

  Molly snorted. “Yeah right, he’s too busy on the Council these days.”

  Kristen tried to smile, but it was easily seen through.

  There was a part of Toby that had never recovered from the injury that had ended his career in the field. Now he threw himself into his work as an important Council member. Survivors’ guilt, they all had their fair share of it, Kristen thought as her hand idly traced the scar across her stomach.

  “Ok you two.” Kristen said, snapping back to the present. “Again.”

  Other books by K.S. Marsden:

  Witch-Hunter ~ Now available in audiobook

  The Shadow Rises (Witch-Hunter #1)

  The Shadow Reigns (Witch-Hunter #2)

  The Shadow Falls (Witch-Hunter #3)

  Witch-Hunter Prequels

  James: Witch-Hunter (#0.5)

  Sophie: Witch-Hunter (#0.5)

  Kristen: Witch-Hunter (#2.5) ~ coming 2021

  Enchena

  The Lost Soul: Book 1 of Enchena

  The Oracle: Book 2 of Enchena

  Northern Witch

  Winter Trials (Northern Witch #1)

  Awaken (Northern Witch #2)

  The Breaking (Northern Witch #3)

  *****

  Read on for a first look at the prequel Sophie: Witch-Hunter.

  Find out about everyone’s favourite cold-hearted bitch, and how she became the Shadow Witch…

  SOPHIE: WITCH-HUNTER

  K.S. MARSDEN

  Chapter One

  The cold, dead ashes rose into the air with each footstep. The fire had long since burnt out, leaving nothing but the bare bones of the village. She walked slowly, admiring her work. A little arson was beneath her, but she had to admit, there was an artistic beauty in destruction.

  The distinct sound of sobbing rose from the silence. She turned to witness a solitary figure hunched over the remains of someone he must have loved.

  The man looked up as she approached. He was young and had perhaps been handsome, but fresh burns and welts made him unsightly.

  The man took a sharp breath as he realised who she was, then pointed and began to shout, “Shadow! Shadow!”

  She sighed, taking a knife from her belt. No one ever called her by her name anymore. Sabine...

  “Sophie!”

  Sophie snapped out of her daydream and turned her attention to Mr Gill.

  Her maths teacher frowned, as he pointed sharply at the board. “Perhaps you could answer the equation, if it’s not too much trouble?”

  Sophie sighed, Mr Gill was always trying to catch her out, it was always unfair. She was generally rude and never paid attention, but it didn’t give him the right to be an arse. Her hazel eyes flicked up to the simple equation that was giving her classmates so much trouble: the answer was nine.

  “Forty-two.” She replied out loud.

  Mr Gill stood looking more smug than normal, amused that she was finally wrong. “And how did you work that out?”

  “Douglas Adams. Forty-two is the answer to everything, which makes your lessons pointless, don’t you think?”

  There were a few raised brows in her direction, but no one even broke a smile. Either nobody here was a Hitchhiker fan, or they were too scared to potentially upset the ice queen.

  Sophie turned her attention back to her teacher, realising he was threatening her with disembowelment, detention, or something similar.

  It was torture that she had to sit here and put up with so much crap from these mere mortals that didn’t matter in the bigger picture. It was only a matter of days until Sophie’s sixteenth birthday, when she could finally stop pretending that she was human; when she could embrace her birthright.

  She was
a witch.

  Not just an ordinary witch, either. Sophie was a Shadow, a rare creature that hadn’t been seen in centuries, and was magic without limit. Or at least, she would be when her council finally found out how to unlock her powers. For more than two long years, Sophie had been led along with promises and tantalising hints. Now, it would finally be hers, and she could almost taste the power.

  She wondered what her classmates would do if they knew. Would they treat her with the respect she deserved, knowing that she could destroy them with a word? Or would they laugh at her? The over-saturation of witchcraft in media made them a joke. Who would fear the truth, when it was so much easier to tease the freak that thought themselves a witch.

  Unconsciously, Sophie’s gaze drifted to her classmate, Izzy. A real freak in the making. The only way that humans could access magic was by training in Wicca and following their codes. Izzy skipped that, and thought she could be a witch, just because she wore black and liked candles. You could practically smell the incense sticking to her.

  Sophie’s thoughts were broken by the ring of the final bell. Ignoring the red-faced Mr Gill, Sophie grabbed her stuff and headed out.

  The sky was grey and the rain trickled down. Pulling up her hood, Sophie turned away from the school bus and headed towards the car that was parked on the corner every Wednesday.

  “How was school?” Lynette asked, as she did every week.

  Sophie shrugged. “It was fine.”

  She stared unseeingly out of the car window, idly playing with a lock of her dark brown hair. “Mr Gill is close to cracking. We don’t need him causing trouble. You might need to speed up his next dose.”

  Lynette frowned, glancing over to the teenager. “I wonder who’s making him crack… Sophie, potions are not to be taken for granted.”

  Sophie sighed and tilted her head back. “What is the point of teaching me how to make potions that will blur the memory, if I’m not allowed to use them?”