The group continued to play, each of them occasionally winning, but James coming out on top most rounds. They steadily drank through the wine that he had raided from the Astley cellar, and chatted away.
Hayworth had been right, in Hunter’s opinion, he was learning more about the people he was expected to work with and trust in this one tipsy evening, than he had with weeks of training.
But occasionally a serious question popped up that made Hunter shrink back.
“Why does the Shadow Witch hate you so much?” Alannah asked Hunter, her cheeks flaring red as she dared ask.
Hunter felt a cold soberness stab through the haze. “It’s complicated. My grandfather killed her great-grandmother. She blames my family for setting a witchkind revolution back seventy years.”
“That the truth?” Ian grunted, as he leant forward to refill his glass.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” James snapped, suddenly defensive on his friend’s behalf.
Ian shrugged. “Seems a weak reason for that attack the other month.”
James grew redder, and Hunter could see the warning signs. He turned to Ian before James could embarrass them. “Yes, it’s the truth. The Shadow used my family name as a focus for her anger and revenge. I imagine that has intensified. Not to boast, but being the only 7th gen witch-hunter, she sees me as a major adversary.”
Talking about why the Shadow Witch hated him was easy. Hunter was glad that his team was ignorant enough of certain facts, that they did not quiz him over why the same woman loved him. That was a twisted story.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause upset.” Alannah gushed, her cheeks burning red with embarrassment.
Maria chuckled at her side and put down a card on the pile. “Last card.”
“Don’t worry Ian.” James said, throwing three cards down. “We’ve all joined Hunter on the top of the witches’ hitlist, just by associating with him. Pick up five, Hunter.”
Hunter groaned at how the game was going. “You are taking the proverbial piss, Mr Bennett. Why can’t we play poker instead?”
Alannah put down a single card, pouting at the collection she had amassed. “Only if it’s strip poker.”
Maria laughed, while Ian groaned. “Nah, if you guys are starting that game, that is my cue to leave.”
Maria looked over at her superior, a spark of challenge in her eyes. “Afraid you’ll lose, sir?”
“Never! But someone has to maintain decorum and control.” Ian replied, in equal jest. “Plus, I don’t think my partner would approve of me playing strip anything with you youngsters.”
James threw his cards on the table. “I’ll start with a handicap, as I’m not gonna lose a round.” He said, and before anyone could stop him, he dragged his jumper over his head.
Alannah watched his bare torso with a certain admiration, but Maria only snorted at his actions. “Hey, I was going to win that last game! You did that on purpose.”
James very maturely, retaliated by throwing his jumper at her.
Seven
Over the following week, Hunter and his team fell into a steady pattern. They would run before dawn, then have breakfast together. Then James would bring the latest assignment from Sergeant Dawkins, and off they would go.
One morning, James audibly groaned as he opened the manila containing their assignment.
“Shit, I thought I’d pushed this off onto another team.” James muttered, looking warily towards Hunter.
“Who is it?” Maria asked, grinning at his discomfort. James remained silent, passing the document to his team leader.
Hunter took one look at the sheet and swore. “They want us to enlist this git? We are better off without him.”
“Ok, you’re just teasing now.” Alannah chided, trying her best to look disinterested. “Who is it?”
Already bored with the morning banter, Ian moved across the room and snatched the sheets from Hunter. “Gareth Halbrook. Never heard of him.”
Maria shrugged, none the wiser. But Alannah sat trying to remember what she knew on the man.
“He’s supposed to be good, isn’t he? Like, really good. He’s a high gen too; 3rd or 4th?”
“4th.” Hunter confirmed. “But he’s an arse.”
“Why?” Maria asked, her blue eyes narrowing in James’ direction.
“You’ll see.” He sighed. “Come on, the sooner we go, the sooner we get this over with.”
Maria and Alannah shared a look, curious who could get their witch-hunters so riled up. In contrast, Ian got quietly to his feet, ready for whatever came his way.
Once they all had a firm hold on Hunter’s arms, they were pulled into the temporary darkness, before opening their eyes to an empty car park.
Hunter noted how his team looked a little pale, but steady. That was good news, to know that people could get used to his method of transport. He felt the need again, to explore what he was capable of. But this was not the time, nor place.
The place, according to James, was the South side of Leicester. They had blinked into a small car park that was a few streets from Halbrook’s house.
Finding no reason to put this off, Hunter sighed. “Let’s go.”
*****
Ten minutes later, James stuffed the AA roadmap back into his bag, as they traipsed down the street where Halbrook lived. It was deserted, like everywhere else. They had caught a sight of a couple of youths, but they had run away, out of fear no doubt.
Hunter wondered how long it would take for everyone to go back to normal. Or what form would the new normal take?
Hunter was spared having to think about it by their arrival at Halbrook’s house. Hunter hammered on the door and waited.
“Sod off!” A yell came from inside.
Hunter threw James a weary look, then knocked again. “Halbrook, open the bloody door!”
There was silence on the other side of the door, followed by the shuffle of feet and the click of a key in the lock. The door opened, and Halbrook showed his face. He didn’t look like Hunter remembered; neat enough in appearance, with an over-whelming arrogance. No, now his face was sunken and ashen behind the patchy growth of beard. Even more over-whelming was the stench of stale alcohol, and stale unwashed bodies.
But Halbrook looked at Hunter with and almost reassuring expression of contempt.
“What the hell do you want, Astley?”
“We’re here to discuss the Council. Can we come in?” Hunter asked, not keen on entering the house, but aware of the protection it would have.
Halbrook looked over the group that crowded onto his porch, then shrugged. Leaving the door open as a reluctant invitation, he walked back along the hall and into the sitting room. Halbrook opened the curtains to allow a little light into the room; which was helpful because there was all manner of clutter obstructing the path of his visitors.
“Thought the MMC had fallen.” Halbrook muttered.
“Yes, and no.” Hunter replied. “The headquarters were destroyed, and our forces scattered. But we are re-grouping.”
“So who’s in charge, you? You grasping, little-“
“Marks!” Hunter barked, cutting him off. “Anthony Marks is in charge now.”
Halbrook guffawed at that. “Should’a guessed. You’d never step up and take responsibility boy, you’re too busy acting the hero.”
Hunter took a deep breath and tried not to rise to Halbrook’s tormenting.
Seeing his friend about to lose it, James stepped in. “Mr Halbrook, we need to make a record of-“
“You’re still keepin’ this pen-pushing 1st gen around?” Halbrook barely spared James a glance. “And what other useless groupies have you brought with you?”
“Sergeant Grimshaw; Lieutenant Coulson; and Alannah Winton, 3rd gen.” Hunter reeled off, going down the line.
Halbrook snorted, not impressed. “A measly 3rd gen that looks like she should still be in school, and a couple of grunts from the army – their ranks only distract from the fact they’re as incompeten
t and unprepared as your pet 1st gen.”
Hunter felt his anger boiling over, when a quiet voice spoke at his shoulder.
“With your permission, sir?”
Hunter turned to see Ian looking challengingly in Halbrook’s direction. He had the sudden flashback of when Ian had fairly bettered him on the training grounds, and he had only gotten away by cheating. The idea of Halbrook getting floored was enough to make Hunter smile, and fight back his mood.
“Maybe another time.” Hunter replied calmly.
James coughed, trying to break the atmosphere. “Mr Halbrook, can you tell us about any other witch-hunters? Colleagues? Apprentices?”
“Dead. All dead.” Halbrook nearly shouted, then continued in a much quieter and more bitter voice. “I watched my apprentices killed by witches after the black-out. They had us marked, see. Hunted, by orders of the Shadow Witch.”
“What?” Alannah gasped.
“Yeah, anyone who met her while she was pretending to be human has been marked. Guess I’m top of her list.” Halbrook looked across to Hunter. “Well, maybe second.”
“How did you survive?” Hunter asked, trying to bring the conversation back to point. He didn’t know how much Halbrook knew or suspected, and he didn’t want to find out.
Halbrook shrugged. “The bastards underestimated me. I got away, and stayed holed up here since. Couldn’t leave – there was always a witch or two around on watch. But they disappeared a week ago and I haven’t seen them since. Makes me wonder what else is important enough to call them away.”
“I don’t understand, they just let you stay here?” Maria asked. “Why not break in?”
Halbrook looked at the soldier; she had confirmed that she was an idiot. Wasn’t the answer obvious? “Witch-hunter houses are kitted out with protective amulets, as MMC standard. No witch can hurt me here. You’d know that if you had done any research into this organisation you’ve joined.”
Maria’s pale skin flushed red, but she did her best to remain calm to his taunts. “Actually, I have done the required reading. Less than a year ago, a better witch-hunter than you was killed, his home destroyed. The initial verdict was an attack from a large coven, though it was later confirmed as the work of the Shadow Witch. But perhaps you didn’t find the report on Brian Lloyd important.”
“Ho! This one’s got teeth! And maybe a brain in that pretty little head of yours.” Halbrook spat, his lip curling back. “You’re still damn useless, as far as I’m concerned. Won’t have no 1st gens next to me in a fight.”
“Ok, enough!” Hunter snapped, defending his team. “I thought the Shadow Witch was injured in the last battle; her lack of involvement in getting rid of you, Mr Halbrook, may well be evidence to support that theory. We must assume that she will recover, though.”
“Yeah, which is why we need you to come with us.” James added.
Hunter turned to face James, aghast. “I’m not taking him to the Manor.”
“We have our orders, Hunter. Lone witch-hunters are to be taken back to base.”
Halbrook snorted. “Orders? Astley is flamin’ infamous for ignoring orders. Why should he listen to them now?”
“Actually, I agree with Halbrook, for once.” Hunter replied, feeling slightly queasy at the very idea of agreeing with an arse like Halbrook.
Ian stepped forward, and clapped Hunter on the shoulder. “Get over yourself Hunter. Let’s get back, out of this shit-tip. No offence.” He shot the last couple of words to Halbrook.
The older man just grunted.
“Please hold onto Hunter.” James directed, as he grabbed his friend’s arm. The two women took their cue and held on.
Halbrook stared at them all. “I don’t know what sort of namby-pamby New Age crap you’re into, but I am not doing a group hug.”
Everyone looked at him, and Alannah ducked into James’ shoulder to stifle a giggle.
“Just… hold on.” Hunter said, holding out his hand.
Gingerly, Halbrook reached out and held Hunter’s wrist as loosely as possible.
Before Halbrook had a chance to back away, Hunter blinked them all into the entrance hall of Astley Manor. His team, now fully habituated to the process, remained standing and unfazed.
Halbrook dropped to his knees, his head on the rug as he groaned.
“What… what the hell…” He broke off as he started to retch.
“Oh, not on the rug.” Hunter moaned, gritting his teeth as he watched the bastard defile his house. “Ugh, you are cleaning that up.”
Maria tilted her head sweetly as she looked at him. “Don’t worry, Mr Halbrook. You’re only a measly 4th gen. It’s not like you can handle this.”
Halbrook wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “You-“
“You are in my house now.” Hunter broke in. “Which means you will watch your tongue.”
At that moment, Sergeant Dawkins emerged from the dining room, drawn by the sound of voices. “Ah, back already?”
“Colin – this is Halbrook, you can deal with him now.” James replied, keen to get rid of the responsibility.
The sergeant looked down at the mess of a man at his feet. “Of course, come through to our control room, and we’ll get you some water.”
Halbrook pushed himself up so that he was standing, albeit unsteadily. “I might need summat stronger than that.”
Sergeant Dawkins glanced over at James, but gathered from the Yorkshireman’s calm expression that this was ordinary behaviour from their newest recruit.
They made their way into the dining room and Hunter followed – not out of any desire to support Halbrook, but rather to know first-hand what Halbrook had to say. It seemed that he was not the only one that was worried, Hunter noticed the concerned looks that passed between Anthony Marks and General Hayworth.
“Dawkins, can you lead the debriefing of Hunter’s team, please. Anthony and I will handle this one.” The General stated.
If Dawkins had any objection to this, he remained quiet, and dutifully left.
“Mr Halbrook, it’s good to see you again.” Anthony Marks said coldly. He was well aware of Gareth Halbrook – not only his absolute lack of manners, but his reputation for leading ‘shoot first, ask later’ operations. He hadn’t wanted the difficult witch-hunter in their ranks, but when General Hayworth insisted they enlist the 4th gen, he had to concede that it was probably best they kept Halbrook in line. He could only imagine what trouble he might cause if he were left alone.
“Marks, heard you’re the man in charge now.” Halbrook replied, dragging out a chair and making himself comfortable.
“I am. Along with General Hayworth.” Marks confirmed, giving a small nod in the General’s direction.
Halbrook took a brazen look around the grand dining room, his piggy little eyes taking in everything. “Well, I can guess where we are. Not that I was ever invited to the great Astley Manor. Me and ye dad weren’t what you’d call friendly.” Halbrook looked towards Hunter, explaining the obvious to the stuck-up, entitled little shit. “But is someone gonna explain how I got here?”
Anthony glanced over at Hunter before replying. “It turns out that Hunter has developed certain powers like the Benandanti.”
“What’s that?” Halbrook huffed.
“Who’s that.” Marks corrected. “They were a pagan anti-witch cult from Friuli, Italy. In the 16th century they devoted their lives to repelling witches, and became stronger, faster; they could shield from magic and travel in a blink. Who knows what else they could do.”
“And what happened to them?”
Marks looked at little uncomfortable at this question. “They were, ah, discovered by the MMC and punished as witches.”
“So we’re going to follow their example?” Halbrook pressed. Hunter couldn’t help but wonder if the older guy sounded too cheerful at the prospect.
“No.” Marks replied calmly. “Can’t you see what an advantage Hunter gives us? Besides, I’d like to think we are a little more educated than
the 16th century MMC.”
“Perhaps. Or maybe just a little more desperate.”
Hunter narrowed his eyes at the odious bastard. “You know, there is a chance I’m a good guy.”
Halbrook shrugged, not won over by Hunter’s argument, the witch-hunter revelling in the news that the famed and respected Hunter Astley had received a more perfect punishment than Halbrook could have dreamt up.
Then the General finally spoke up. “I don’t give a crap about your antiquated MMC prejudices or politics. Hunter has proven himself time and again. In fact, he’s the reason we’re all here and all still alive and fighting. If you insist on being difficult, I will ask Mr Astley to drop you off to the witches – let them deal with you.”
Halbrook tried to maintain his disinterested air, but the General’s threat had at least silenced him.
“Mr Halbrook, is there anything you can tell us about the Shadow Witch?” Marks asked, trying to get this interrogation back on track.
“Nowt that you don’t already know. Deadly, unstoppable, magic without limits. If you want other details, ask your boy over there.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Hunter asked coldly.
“Oh come on, the Shadow Witch – Sophie Murphy.” Halbrook guffawed. “The signs were all there, it was bloody obvious. Maybe you were too busy to notice, Astley. Had she blinded you with her charms?”
Hunter stood suddenly, his chair scraping back across the wooden floor.
“Hunter, sit back down.” The General ordered. “And Halbrook, we have decided to keep Hunter’s past friendship with Sophie Murphy classified. There is nothing to benefit from it going public, but a lot of damage to morale could occur.”
“Friendship – my arse!” Halbrook muttered. “And by damage to morale, you mean damage to your golden boy’s image.”
The General just smiled in response to Halbrook’s taunting. “Well, if you can’t follow these rules, we’re straight back to the ‘hand-you-over-to-the-witches’ option.”
Halbrook crossed his arms and hunched down into his seat, looking a lot more petulant than a man of his age and reputation had a right to. “Fine. Where am I staying?”
“Ah, not here.” Hunter was quick to clarify.
The Shadow Reigns (Witch-Hunter #2) Page 4