The Shadow Reigns (Witch-Hunter #2)

by K. S. Marsden

  Jonathan nodded. “They will work. These are all we can spare, at the moment. My coven needs to wait until the next full moon before we can charm any more. You can pick up the next batch in a few weeks’ time.”

  Ten

  Summer was starting to break out over the English countryside in its usual sporadic fashion. The rain grew warmer, and the grass would grow. The sun would shine promisingly for a day or too, before the grey clouds would roll in again.

  The situation was relatively stable, with steady reports finding their way to Astley Manor. Jonathan’s communication stones had been implemented with reasonable success, although they hadn’t yet been put into practise in an emergency.

  Because of the quietness, Hunter had secured home-leave for his team for a week. Using his talents actually felt good when he was blinking to Brecon to reunite Alannah with the rest of her family and taking Ian back to his home in Bristol. When Hunter and James blinked to Doncaster, Hunter had to stay for dinner with his aunt and uncle, and had to suffer the incessant chatter of James’ younger cousins.

  Back at Astley Manor, there was only one team member left.

  Maria was just finishing washing the pots from her lonely dinner, when Hunter walked into the kitchen.

  “How were James and the family?” She asked, grabbing a tea towel from the rail.

  “Loud.” Hunter replied, grabbing a warm beer from the pantry. “Were you alright, eating alone?”

  Maria paused with her drying, then shrugged. “It was kinda nice to have some time to myself. I half expected one of Dawkin’s team to come in and cadge a meal – it’s what usually happens.”

  Hunter nodded, he understood that the Manor had turned into a hive of activity. He enjoyed it for the most part, filling this big old house with noise and movement. But occasionally it was necessary to find a quiet corner to oneself.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go home this week?” Hunter asked.

  “Home. It doesn’t mean much to me.” Maria replied with a sigh. “No mum. Dad died when I was nineteen – just after I joined the army. I married young, then the git left me when I was promoted before him.”

  Hunter inwardly winced at her casualness. “I’m sorry.” He murmured, knowing that it was a largely ineffective comment.

  Maria shook her head. “It’s fine, it’s life.”

  “Well, I could take you to visit friends instead.” Hunter offered.

  Maria chuckled at his obvious attempt at cheering her up. She didn’t need it, she was content with her life now. “The only friends I have are in the unit stationed here. Thanks for the concern, but I’ll spend my free time catching up with them in Little Hanting.”

  Maria tossed down the tea towel and copied her boss, by grabbing a bottle of beer.

  “So, I’ve shared, now it’s your turn.” Maria locked her blue eyes on Hunter.

  Hunter returned her gaze, feeling a little uneasy. “Ok…”

  “Why is the Shadow Witch obsessed with you?”

  Hunter frowned and shook his head. “We’ve been over that already. I’m-”

  “Yeah, yeah, you’re a major threat and your families have history.” Maria interrupted. “I don’t buy it, and neither do the others.”

  Hunter leant back against the hard kitchen work top and took his time to drink his beer.

  “Oh come on, Hunter!” Maria snapped. “We have a right to know – haven’t we proven that you can trust us?”

  Hunter sighed and idly picked at the label on his bottle. “I do trust you, it’s just that Sophie… When I met the Shadow Witch, she was pretending to be human. I saved her from a fake sacrifice, then I helped her join the Malleus Maleficarum Council. So it’s my fault she learned so much inside information.”

  Maria listened quietly, a little frown forming between her brows as she took in what Hunter shared. “But that doesn’t explain why she’s focused on you.”

  Hunter shrugged, thinking back to last summer. “Sophie came to train with me, she came to live here. I thought she was someone I could trust. She was smart, beautiful… a little cold, I’ll admit.”

  Maria’s eyes widened as she realised where Hunter was going. “You and the witch?” She asked breathlessly.

  Hunter twisted the bottle in his hands, unable to say anything. He knew if he confessed this to another witch-hunter he would be met with disgust. But Maria was new to this fight, she didn’t have years of prejudice behind her – or so he hoped.

  “Does anyone else know?” Maria asked.

  “James – he knew Sophie too. But General Hayworth and Anthony Marks know some details, and I think they have filled in the rest.”

  Maria chewed over this, then finally looked at Hunter. “Thanks for confiding in me. But Hunter, you should really think about telling Ian and Alannah.”

  With a sorry smile, Maria ducked into the pantry to grab another beer, then took the bottle and headed to the room she had been allocated.

  Eleven

  One pleasant summer’s evening, Hunter walked in the gardens of the estate. The flowerbeds of Astley Manor had once been strictly cultivated to Mrs Astley’s design. But the two ground-staff and full-time gardener that the family employed had been evacuated with the rest of the village six months ago, and had not yet returned.

  In those six months, nature had taken control of the garden, and personally, Hunter thought it looked better for it. There was one small corner where his mother actually got her hands dirty and tried to maintain a few flower beds. It was amusing to watch her narrow and focused attempt.

  Spoiling the peace, Hunter felt suddenly alert, a flash of pain as he recognised magic in use. It was close, a few miles at the most. Hunter closed his eyes and focused on it – there were two different rhythms - two witches casting, and from his experience, the magic seemed weak.

  Hunter sighed, why would such weak witches cast anywhere near the famous Astley Manor – they were asking to be destroyed. Unless it was a trap; and they the bait to the bloody thirsty witch-hunters.

  Hunter cursed to himself that his quiet evening was ruined. He glanced about the beautiful grounds, taking a last deep breath of the scented breeze, he turned back to the house.

  Hunter had only just opened the front door and stepped into the entrance hall, when he looked up to see his team already mobilising, thanks to Alannah. Her senses might not be as developed as his, but it was useful having another higher gen witch-hunter around.

  “Ian, can you get us some back-up?” Hunter requested.

  The sergeant nodded and left.

  “Big threat?” James asked.

  Hunter shrugged as he pulled on his stab vest. “Minor. Too minor, it might be an ambush.”

  Hunter gave directions to the soldier that would follow on foot, and when Ian returned, they took the quicker route.

  The five of them appeared near the lake on the south side of the Manor. The setting sun cast the beauty spot in reds and purples, glinting off the rippling surface of the lake; the manmade dock and benches softened by shadows.

  Hunter felt the unsteady throb of magic, and silently motioned for the other four to follow him. Guns ready, they made their way along the shoreline until they reached a copse of trees. Voices came out, too quick and quiet to decipher.

  Hunter stepped forward with care and precision, not making a sound in his advance. When he pushed through the last barrier of foliage, what he saw made him halt.

  There were six young people – the oldest could not have been older than seventeen, and the youngest looked barely fourteen.

  “What the-?” Ian said, stepping up beside him.

  The teenagers turned at his voice, and those that had been casting threw spells in their direction.

  Hunter drew his shield up, the magic breaking uselessly against it – it was hardly worth the effort, Hunter was convinced their magic was so weak, the talismans his people wore would protect them fully. The shield dropped, but Hunter remained alert for any witches waiting in the shadows t
o ambush them. But he found it hard to believe that any person could use children as bait – even the witchkind.

  “What are you guys doing here?” Hunter demanded.

  One rather cocky-looking lad stepped forward as self-appointed spokesperson. “Aren’t you meant to give that Malleus speech when addressing witches?”

  Hunter paused. This was a new situation. “I save it for the adult witches. Why, do you want me to say it?”

  “No.” The youth replied immediately, a blush creeping up his neck that he was speaking with the Astley; and because he would never admit that he wanted to hear it.

  Hunter sighed. “Fine. By the Malleus Constitution you will surrender now to my authority to be bound and registered. If you refuse to come quietly, I am empowered to take any means necessary.”

  The youths’ reaction was easy to see, they all stood straighter, defiance in their eyes.

  “So, go home.” Hunter ordered.

  The leader looked dismayed. “But-“

  “No.” Hunter interrupted. “This isn’t your fight, so go home to your families.”

  A girl pushed forward, raising her rather spotty face to look up at the big bad hunter. “We don’t have no family. You killed them.”

  “What?”

  The boy put his hand out protectively towards the girl. “Yeah, last winter – you killed Jodie, Missy and Mark’s parents at the Midlands prison. Then me, Lucretia and Tommy – you killed ours in that little village place.”

  “Little Hanting.” One of the kids backed him up.

  “Yeah, there.”

  Hunter had to stop himself from stepping back. He’d killed people, of course he had, but he never liked associating those people with a life and loved ones. Even if the people were witches, and their loved ones were obnoxious children.

  James read his friend’s hesitation and stepped in before anyone else noticed. “Ok, so are you gonna explain how that brings you ‘ere? Because you have two options – you can surrender and be bound; or you can piss off.”

  “Or we can kill you!” The leader shouted, riled up by their dismissal. “We out-number you!”

  “Not going to happen, kid.” Ian stated calmly, crossing his arms and staring the youth down.

  The boy tried to keep eye contact, but quickly dropped it.

  “Last chance, go home, or we’ll be forced to subdue and bind you.” Hunter warned, silently wondering if any of his team had brought the necessary items to carry out a binding. Personally, he might have one amulet and silk in one of his many pockets, but since the rebellion, things had turned violent. Hunter’s first instinct was no longer to bind a witch – a worrying acknowledgement.

  “We ain’t afraid of you.” The spotty girl snapped.

  “You should be.” Alannah answered. “Maybe not of Hunter, he’s the good guy. But definitely the rest of us.”

  She pulled out one of her knives, turning it in clear view of the group. “Ian’s been known to wrench the odd limb from its socket; Maria will shoot you between the eyes before you can even begin to cast; and James – you don’t want to know what he’s been accused of.”

  Her lovey Welsh voice grew colder as she spoke, and as she carried on the teenagers’ resolution began to waver. They exchanged worried glances.

  Noticing his friends’ loss in confidence, the leader turned back to the witch-hunters, furiously pulling a spell together.

  Hunter felt the build-up – raw emotion giving it more strength but less stability. He threw up his shield just in time to block the magic as the youth released it. The magic exploded against his shield and bounced back, knocking the boy and his friends flat on their backs.

  They scrambled up quickly enough, nothing hurt save their egos.

  “Go home and learn what you’re doing before you challenge us.” Hunter insisted.

  The leader stepped forward again, but the spotty girl and another gangly lad grabbed his arms and pulled him back. With an awful lot of noise and pushing, the group made a hasty retreat.

  “You’ve got to admire their courage.” Alannah remarked, returning her knife to her belt.

  “I can’t believe how scary you are for a short person.” James remarked. “But what on earth were you about to accuse me of?”

  Alannah flashed him a smile. “Best you don’t know.” She purred.

  Hunter ignored their banter and the laughter that followed, he turned to lead his group back out into the open. It troubled him that –

  “Stop it right there, Hunter.” Maria warned as she hurried to walk beside him.

  “Stop what?” Hunter hesitated in his stride, wondering what was wrong.

  “You – worrying about those kids.” Maria explained.

  “But how…?”

  “You were looking all pensive.” Maria said with a shrug. “We don’t need you moping again.”

  Her dry statement made Hunter smile. “It’s just… they are so young. Too young to be in this fight.”

  Maria glanced over her shoulder at the other three members of the team; Ian walked along silently, while James and Alannah still joked at the back. It was a good team, they were all in their prime, and the best at what they did.

  “How old were you when you started being a witch-hunter?” Maria suddenly asked him.

  Hunter paused, knowing where this was going. “I was twenty.”

  Maria rolled her eyes. “Sure, you just turned twenty and suddenly you’re a witch-hunter. When did you start training?”

  “Actually, physically training – probably about thirteen.”

  “And I bet you were just itching to start earlier than that.” Maria pressed her advantage. “I mean, my dad always told me how I was playing soldiers with the local boys when I was five years old.”

  Much to Hunter’s relief, their conversation was drawn to a close by the arrival of twenty soldiers on the scene.

  Hunter greeted the lieutenant in charge. “False alarm. Just a few weak witches that didn’t realise where they were – when they did, they scarpered.”

  The lieutenant looked ill-at-ease. “Shall we track them down, sir?”

  Hunter shook his head. “No, they are not worth our effort.”

  “But sir, our orders are to capture or kill any witches found.” The lieutenant stated boldly. “Even ‘weak’ ones may have information.”

  “I said no, lieutenant.” Hunter snapped. “I will report this incident directly to the General, he will agree with my decision.”

  Hunter wasn’t entirely convinced of his argument. General Hayworth was a decent man, and there was a good level of mutual respect between them, but what if he disapproved of letting the youths go…

  Oh well, what was the worst that could happen – they could hardly kick him out of the headquarters and his own house. And putting any kind of restraint on him was impossible, he could blink out of any attempt of confinement. Not that he thought it would resort to such things.

  His team shifted closer to him, anticipating that they would travel with Hunter now that business was finished. But Hunter gave a minute shake of his head, and they stopped in place. His team might prefer the quick route home, but Hunter thought it advisable to walk back with the extra soldiers, in case any of them disobeyed, or if any of the kids were foolish enough to come back.

  Falling into an unhurried march, Hunter found Alannah next to him.

  “Well done for, you know…” Hunter trailed off.

  “Dim prob.” Alannah replied. “I’m always happy to scare and intimidate.”

  Hunter smiled as he looked down at the youngest and least intimidating member of the team.

  “I can understand why they wanted to fight.” Alannah continued. “A few years ago I was that foolhardy, thought I knew it all and that I was invincible. I got into a few scrapes, but I was lucky – Timothy Jones pulled me out of the worst of it, and trained me properly. That desire to fight doesn’t leave you, though.”

  “I blame Harry Potter.” James piped up as he jogged on to
catch up with them. At their disapproving glares, he pressed his point. “No, really, a bunch of pubescent witches and wizards defy and destroy the bad guy.”

  Hunter marched along, he supposed the comparison made some sense. “So does that make me Voldemort?”

  “Sure.” Alannah replied, warming to the theme.

  “You’ve got the looks for it.” James added.

  Hunter raised his hand to his thick black hair, which honestly needed a cut. “I assume you mean the Tom Riddle phase?”

  “Nah.”

  “Does that make us your Death Eaters?” Ian asked, breaking his usual silence.

  “And what does that make Sophie?” Maria added.

  “Dumbledore?” James ventured, making everyone laugh.

  “Ew, no.” Alannah squirmed. “Because that means they, you know…”

  “Well, Dumbledore was gay.” Ian answered.

  There was a pause, before everybody laughed together. A few of the soldiers marching ahead turned to look back and see what the noise was about. Hunter coughed, and looked to his team.

  Twelve

  One night in the middle of August, Hunter found himself unable to sleep. It could have just been the summer heat that made it uncomfortable, but he felt something foreboding nagging at his senses.

  Finally he dragged himself out of bed, and padded barefoot downstairs to the library. It quickly became a habit now, that when he did not know what to do, he headed to the library in the hope that the next book would yield answers to his problems.

  There had been a few hints from his research, but nothing solid. That the Benandanti could walk through dreams, that they could control the elements and manipulate the world around them. But no one mentioned how. He supposed only a desperate and heretical witch-hunter like himself would wish to know the dynamics.

  As he entered the library, he tried for the umpteenth time to spark a little life and light in the now defunct light bulb. It wasn’t much, to heat the tungsten by exciting the atoms. But no matter how logically he broke it down, Hunter couldn’t make the slightest difference.