The Witchfinder Wars

by K. G. McAbee

  "Heavy," I said as I slid my arms into it. It was, unfortunately, a perfect fit.

  "Bulletproof," Kin said in his I-don't-waste-words patented style.

  "Hey, now, let's just wait a minute," I said as I slid back out of it and tossed it on a battered old shelf against the wall of the garage. "I thought we were going out to pick up a couple of nice old ladies and offer them a new and better, uh, position. This is something you guys do all the time, right? Since when did bullets get involved?"

  "We like to be safe, and cover all our options," Clay said, smooth as usual.

  He'd laid off the liquor all day; all I could smell on him was the old reek of cigars and something under that, an odor I'd smelled earlier in his office.

  "There are seldom any problems, but sometimes...we run into something unexpected. So keep that on at all times, even in the car."

  "I guess the car is plate steel and bulletproof glass too, huh?" I laughed a little.

  My uncle and cousin did not. Neither did the three goons who were going with us—one of whom, I had been surprised to find out, was Ray LaCroy, our chauffeur. I'd liked Ray in the couple of months he'd been with us. Now I was wondering exactly what his job title was: Hopkins chauffeur or resident spy plus backup goon.

  Man, this whole thing kept getting weirder and weirder all the time.

  I just hoped Anya would do as I'd asked, and would be down at the pond instead of in her house at nine o'clock. I didn't want her to be involved, and I for sure didn't want her to see my relatives drop by to pick up her relatives.

  Not that I planned on them being prisoners for long. I'd made a couple more calls on Jordan's phone in addition to the one to Anya.

  I was learning from dear old Uncle Clay. It paid to have backup. And, while I knew he thought my dad hadn't told me anything about the business, Dad had told me some things, and Grand had told me more. Not to mention, I wasn't completely stupid.

  "Okay, then," I said as I grabbed the vest and put it on. I'm sure it went great with the black pants and long-sleeved tee I had on already.

  Jimmy Bond, that's me.

  Like I said, we were in the garage. It was a long wooden building with a half loft, the whole thing a lot bigger than I'd realized but, after all, we'd only been in the house a week, and other things were more important than checking out the garage behind the house.

  Very important things, of which the most important seemed to be Anya, and the strange pull she had on me. I didn't understand it. I'd been dating for a couple of years and I'd liked lots of girls, but my feelings for Anya were...different somehow. I wanted to be with her and I wasn't exactly sure why. I knew next to nothing about her, what she liked, what she read, what she wanted to be, and I usually was only interested in girls who shared the things I was interested in: history, cars, music, books. I figured I'd spent a total of three hours in Anya's company, two of which I'd been asleep, and she hadn't exactly shared much about herself. I'd done almost all of the talking, and it was about me and my life.

  Maybe Jordan was right. Maybe Clay and Kinsey were right.

  Yeah. And maybe the earth was flat.

  Clay glanced at the gaudy watch on his wrist. "It's after eight. How long is the drive?"

  "Less than half an hour." That was Ray.

  I didn't like the idea he knew exactly how long it took to get to Anya's house. Had he been out there?

  And worse, had he seen me there?

  But if he had, I'm sure he'd already shared that information with Clay, so I decided not to worry about it.

  "And the schedule?" Clay asked.

  Another goon said, "Ivy Blanchett arrives home from her job at a local drug store at approximately twenty-one hundred hours. We need to be in position, so we should roll soon."

  I was feeling more and more like I was in a spy movie. "Yeah, let's roll soon," I said wryly. "I've got school tomorrow, so I'd like to be in bed early."

  Nobody appreciated my humor. We all piled into the car, and I noticed—but didn't say anything—somehow I managed to be between the two biggest goons in the back seat. Coincidence? Uh huh.

  Ray drove out of the garage, then hit his remote; the door closed behind us.

  We headed around the house, out of the drive and onto Clarke Street. I knew where we were going, but of course I didn't want Clay to know that, so I said,

  "Exactly where are we going?"

  Everyone ignored me for a minute, then Ray said, "Out on Route Nine."

  "Okay, now I'm all clear." I tried out a sardonic laugh but I don't think it succeeded. "Remember, we just moved to town a week ago. Other than two drives to school and my little ride around the block yesterday morning with a classmate, I'm clueless about this town. How did you guys find it, anyway? Kinsey, you're in the know. Tell me everything while we're on our little ride into the country, why don't you?"

  Kinsey was in the back, doing something with some equipment I was itching to ask about but didn't dare. He said, his voice soft and menacing, "How do you know we're going into the country?"

  "Kin, get real. How big is Manning? And even if it was the size of New York, Route Nine doesn't exactly scream the bright lights of down town, now does it?"

  Kinsey retreated to his toys, about which suddenly I so did not want to know.

  No, that was wrong. I did want to know all about whatever he had back there.

  We were on the way to my girl's house.

  Where her mother and aunt lived with her.

  I just hoped Anya was gone and wouldn't be back to see us pick up her relatives.

  Which reminded me of a something I wanted to know. "Clay? We're on our merry way to pick up, well, witches, right? So what happens to them then? We ask them about their powers, wooo, and hope they don't curse us?"

  "We take them to the complex," Clay said. "We keep them there and drain them until there's nothing left."

  I so did not like the sound of that. "Uh, right. Well, isn't someone going to wonder where these people are, like family and friends? I mean, we can't go all black-ops in North Carolina, fergoshsakes, and just keep our fingers crossed no one notices, now can we?"

  "No one will bother us," Kin said from behind me. "We've taken care of that already."

  Well, I'd been right not to try to involve the local police. If I had, I was pretty sure I'd not be where I was now. "Smart thinking," I said. "So, is this standard operating procedure for WFG, then? Arrive in a town that's hurting for work, set up a fancy new clinic, spread some money around, buy off the local cops and then we're golden?"

  "As a matter of fact," Clay said around a mouthful of stinky cigar, "that's about it."

  I subsided between my goon bookends. I'm a pretty big guy, over six feet already and about one-eighty, but I felt like I was the size of one of the twins beside them. The one on my right—I hadn't been introduced to either, so I was calling him Bert—must have been six-five at least, and the other one, Ernie, was even bigger. There wasn't much seat left for me, and I could feel very clearly—and I was probably supposed to—they were both armed. And behind me, Kinsey kept producing odd little click-clack noises, like he was ratcheting something up and down.

  I so did not like this. All of a sudden, I wished I'd done something besides get Anya out of the house. We were going after her family. And all I'd done was ask her to run away.

  What was she going to think of me? Man, I was so useless! I wanted to pound my head against a brick wall, or maybe Bert's fists, both of which were probably about the same hardness. I'd had almost two days to think of something, and what had I come up with? A phone call! I should have done something to the car, or strangled Clay or set Kin on fire or something.

  "We're almost there," came Ray's voice. "Five minutes."

  It didn't take that long.

  A battered old car was parked in the driveway of the Blanchett home. A single light threw out a corona onto the garden to the right of the house. I could smell the odor of lavender being sucked in through the car's vents, st
rong enough to overpower even Clay's cigar.

  We pulled in behind the old car, blocking it in. The Hummer's back doors opened silently and Bert and Ernie slid out and disappeared. I jumped out before Clay could tell me not to, but he didn't seem to notice. He got out himself and strode toward the front porch. I followed him, wondering where the goons and Kinsey had disappeared to in the darkness.

  Clay mounted the three steps to the front porch and pounded on the door.

  "Hello? Is anyone home?" he called, calm and polite, as if he were just out for a late call on the neighbors.

  "Just a minute," came a voice from inside, the southern accent making the two syllables of 'minute' into four. "Let me get my apron off."

  The door opened and a rectangle of bright yellow light spilled out onto the front porch. Two green eyes—so much like Anya's that for an instant my heart stopped in my chest—looked out of a broad cheerful face. The woman was solidly built, not very tall; she smiled.

  "Well, now, what can I do for you handsome gentlemen?"

  Clay held out his hand.

  "I'm new in town, ma'am, and I'm afraid we got a little lost. Is this the Blanchett place? Are you Miss Evelyn Blanchett?"

  "I am," she said, taking Clay's proffered hand in hers, her smile still in place.

  I dreaded the moment she'd lose it.

  "And do you have a sister named Ivy, by any chance?" Clay continued as he shook her hand. Instead of dropping it, he held onto it.

  "I do indeed, and she's just got home. Why don't you come in, Mister...?"

  All at once, Bert and Ernie materialized beside us. Clay shoved Evelyn Blanchett—Anya's Aunt Evie, the one who grew the lavender—backward as they all three pushed into the house.

  There was a loud noise, like a soft crash, somewhere deeper in the house, and Bert—or maybe it was Ernie—drew a strange looking gun, its barrel a good three inches wide and maybe twice as long. It looked like a cartoon gun and I had a sudden crazy impulse to laugh.

  "All clear back here!" came Kinsey's voice.

  Clay still had Evelyn's hand in his. I saw him reach into his pocket and pull out a pair of handcuffs; he held them out as he tried to snap them around her wrists.

  That was enough. I was still on the porch, kind of dazed, but that was definitely enough. I barged forward, accidentally-on-purpose tripped on the door sill and slammed, hard, into Clay's back. He took two steps forward onto a wonderful little rug, which was smart enough to slip right out from under him. He went down on his broad ass.

  And Evelyn ran, yelling.

  "Ivy! Get out, Ivy! It's them, the witchfinders! Tell Anya to run!"

  I heard a scream, a door slam. I felt my heart stop at the sound of her name.

  "After her," Clay snarled as he tried to get up. But that blessed little rug was still under his feet and it slid and he sat back down, hard.

  Bert and Ernie hurried to the back of the house, almost ran into Kinsey who was herding a slender woman in front of him.

  "This one's secure," Kinsey yelled as Ernie disappeared behind him.

  I was surprised. So far, I'd never seen Kin excited about anything.

  "Both of you, get her in the car," Clay said as he finally managed to get upright.

  He was favoring his right leg, I was glad to see. Maybe I could do something to the left next.

  "What about the other one, sir?" asked Bert as he grabbed the woman's arm.

  She was slender and pale, and looked scared but determined. "You leave my sister alone!"

  Nothing about the daughter who, I was silently praying, was nowhere close to this place.

  "Go on, get her out," Clay said. "Tommy, you come with me. We'll check the rest of the house."

  Sounded like a good idea to me. I couldn't do anything about this woman, who had to be Anya's mother Ivy, but I was going to make damn certain sure that, if Anya was in the house, nothing happened to her. Clay headed up the stairs and I was right on his heels as he looked in the three small bedrooms at the top, checked the bathroom and then turned to me. He was still limping.

  "Damn," he said. "This could have gone better. Now we're going to have to cover our tracks."

  I so did not like the sound of that.

  "Hey, now, wait a minute," I began, but Clay interrupted me.

  "Grow a pair, boy. This is what we do, so get used to it."

  He made his way down the stairs, leaning heavily on the banister. At the bottom, Ernie stood, looking worried.

  "We've got one secure, but we couldn't find the other one, sir," he reported. I expected a snappy salute, but he just stood there and continued, "She's not outside, though, so she must be hidden somewhere inside the house. You know how they all have bolt holes, sir."

  "Yes, yes," Clay said, irritated as hell, I was glad to see. "Then we have no choice, do we, gentlemen?"

  "No, sir," Ernie said.

  "We leave now, right?" I asked, more than a little relieved.

  "Of course we do," Clay said as he headed for the front door. I followed him outside and to the Hummer.

  Kinsey was standing at the back, locking what looked uncomfortably like a wire-mesh coffin. I couldn't see what—or who—was inside, but I had a pretty good idea it was Anya's mom.

  Well, I was going to make damn sure she didn't have to stay in it long.

  Kinsey slid the wire box inside the back of the car and slammed the door. "Ready," he snapped, all military and official.

  "Excellent," Clay said. He turned to Ernie. "Is everything in place?"

  "Yes sir!"

  "Then you can set it off."

  "Hey, wait a minute!" I shouted. "Set what off? What are you doing?"

  Ernie pulled a black module out of his pocket and hit a big red button on it.

  There was a whoosh behind me, a muffled boom, followed by a sharp tinkling sound like shards of ice falling. I turned around.

  I could see a growing, flickering orange ball inside Anya's house. The windows had blown out and the glass fragments lay in chunks all around, reflecting the dancing flames inside like tiny bonfires scattered over the garden.

  Then I saw a small figure, its hair as flame red as the growing conflagration inside the house, run to—and inside— the open front door, then disappear into the growing ball of fire.

  Anya.

  No...

  "Wait a minute," I yelled. "There's—there's someone going in the house! We have to help—" I started toward the burning house at a run.

  A bright white light filled my head. The earth rose up before me and slapped me in the face, hard.

  Then the flames, the noise, the whole world just went away and I fell into darkness...

  Chapter Thirteen

  Anya

  I heard yelling and ran back, as fast as I could, from the pond. At first I couldn't see anything past the bright orange ball that had once been my home.

  I couldn't have stopped myself if I had tried.

  I didn't.

  I pounded across the field without a moment's hesitation. The heat hit me first, and that's when I realized I might be in trouble.

  Great Mother...protect me.

  I took a breath that didn't seem big enough before my body plunged through the flames.

  All I knew was I had to save them.

  The fires parted with my entry as if to welcome me home, and I stumbled for the first time since I saw the smoke rising above the trees, back where I was waiting to meet Tommy.

  Tommy.

  I pushed his name out of my mind as I narrowed my eyes against the smoke threatening to overwhelm me. I squatted laid low against the scorching wooden floors to take a breath.

  Then I realized.

  Funny. The heat wasn't bothering me.

  And air had never tasted sweeter.

  "Evie! Ivy!" I cried out from my place on the floor. The beams holding up the second floor were starting to crack beneath the strength of the flames, and I knew I had to find them before the collapsing supports crushed all of us.
<
br />   The heat may not have bothered me. But hundreds of pounds of wood definitely would.

  I could see movement through the smoke, and a hand marred with black soot reached for mine.

  "Thank the Goddess." I breathed the sigh of relief as I grabbed for it. Straight into the flames that flared up between us.

  The scream erupted from my throat before I felt the pain. As my hand jerked back, I forced myself silent until the only sounds I made were jagged whimpers. My other hand began to sweep the ground just outside the heat for her again. Then, the unbelievable happened.

  The flames moved aside. Just a little.

  I rose up and held out my good hand. A sweeping motion was all I needed to push the dancing light away from Evie. She was burned, definitely hurt. But she might be able to survive if we could get out of this place.

  "Come on, Evie...where's Ivy?"

  Evie couldn't answer me. Her lungs released a cough so deep, I knew I had to get her out of there.

  Now.

  I held my injured wrist against my chest as I wrapped my good arm around her. My teeth slammed against each other as I pulled her up.

  "Move!" I shouted out toward the fires. The wall of flames refused to obey. I hissed in agony as I pulled my arm away from its cradle and reached outward. The pain was making me sick, but I couldn't think about it now.

  Mimicking the sweeping motion, I repeated my command.

  This must have been how Moses felt. The red sea in front of us parted to allow us a clear path toward the door.

  I didn't think I was going to make it.

  I couldn't think about that either.

  It wasn't until I had her through the door and lying against the garden gate that I knelt in front of her again. My legs were shaking so badly, I was sure I was going to fall on her and make the pain from her burns worse. Evie's eyes were closed and her face darkened with soot, but I had to try.

  "Evelyn, listen to me! It's Anya...Annie. Tell me where Ivy is!"

  There was a panic in my voice I had never heard before as I thought about my mother trapped beneath the beams that had started crashing down behind us. Sparks flew with every sound the dying house emitted; the roaring was overpowering my senses.