The Shadow Rises

by K. S. Marsden

  Her eyes teared up, but she blinked them away. Everyone died, it was just a question of when.

  “Oh, I didn’t mean that the short-staffing was the worst thing. I meant… You know what I meant.” Charlotte added, feeling worse the whole time.

  “I’m sorry.” Hunter murmured, feeling useless.

  Charlotte closed her eyes and took a deep breath, settling her nerves. “We all know the dangers of working for the MMC, we know what we’ve signed up for. But sometimes you forget, just for a moment you forget and become attached to someone…”

  Hunter watched Charlotte as she purposefully kept her eyes focused on the flowers, the timid nature of her voice only confirming how close to tears she was. Noting the redness around her eyes, Hunter wondered how many times she had cried for her colleague today.

  Hunter felt a stab of guilt at how easily Charlotte acknowledged the danger they were all in. It wasn’t a lie that, if she had never met him, she would be a valued lawyer somewhere. She never would have heard of witches and the Malleus Maleficarum Council.

  Instead, she had joined the Oxford offices, and over the last few years Hunter had to watch her ascend to an important position. Hunter had wondered whether the quick ascension was only due to the Council realising what a bright star they had with Charlotte; or were they trying to mollify him.

  “The funeral is on Friday, will you be there?” Charlotte asked, breaking his train of thought.

  Hunter inwardly winced. He hated going to funerals, especially as there were so many in their line of work. They didn’t help anyone, it was only one more occasion to feel awkward on.

  Hunter could probably get away with not going, no one would dare openly say anything about his absence. But his absence would be noted, the famous Hunter Astley, unable to respect the passing of one of their own.

  “I’ll try.” He finally answered, less than convincingly.

  Charlotte’s normally soft brown eyes were a little colder as she regarded him, a slight pout to her lips. “I’ll text you and James the address.”

  Getting James involved was a threat. It was only one level lower than threatening to involve his mother.

  Hunter grimaced, trying again. “We’ll be there.”

  He stayed for a short while, then made his excuses and left. He could fight, kill if need be, but he couldn’t face sorrow. Not even when one of his best friends needed his comfort.

  Five

  The call came just past midnight. Hunter set off immediately, picking up James on the way. They roared along the empty roads at 90mph, screw speed cameras and police, they had to get there.

  Less than an hour later they screeched to a halt, both breathless with fear.

  Hunter had been here only a month ago, but Brian’s house was unrecognisable. The garden was all torn up and half of the house had fallen down, the rest was charred and still steaming.

  Someone ran up as they saw them approach. The man was white-faced. “Hunter Astley? I’m Mathew Jones, 3rd gen.” His voice cracked and he held out a shaky hand.

  Hunter dragged his gaze away from the ruins. He shook hands, his actions robotic. “Brian?” He barely managed to ask.

  The other man shook his head.

  Hunter felt as though he had suffered a physical blow to his chest. Yes, it was a dangerous life and they were all living on borrowed time, but how could Brian be gone? He was the strong one, the survivor.

  “Th-there was a girl.” James finally spoke up, forcing his voice to steady. “An apprentice, Sophie.”

  Mr Jones got a hold of his emotions again. “Yes, she’s alive. The ambulance took her away an hour ago. A few minor injuries, she was very lucky.”

  “What happened?” Hunter asked.

  “We don’t know for sure. Must’ve been a big coven, to do this much damage. Hopefully the apprentice can tell us more. I‘ll take you both to the hospital with me, if you want.”

  Hunter nodded. Yes, they should go to the hospital, see Sophie. But first, Hunter went up to the house. A couple of MMC staff came to warn him it wasn’t safe (as if he needed telling), but let him go in, lending him a torch.

  The blast must have been something fierce. Its source in the study, there was nothing left of this part of the house - walls, furniture, books - they were ash alike. Hunter stood amongst the rubble, the place throbbed with magic. Who the hell had this much power?

  *****

  The drive to the hospital was a blur. Soon they were marching down the half-lit corridors. Sophie was in a private room, propped up with pillows, waiting for them. Her arms were a mess of shallow cuts; a thick white pad covered her right shoulder where she’d needed stitches; the right side of her face was already bruising; and dust lightened her dark hair.

  Even through the effect of pain-killers, and despite it being the early hours of the morning, she gazed clearly and calmly at her visitors. “I was wondering when you were going to turn up.”

  “Miss Murphy, we need you to tell us what happened tonight.” Mr Jones asked, taking out a pad and pen.

  “You should ask Brian, I won’t be much help.”

  “Please Sophie,” Hunter interrupted in a pained voice. “Just tell us what you can.”

  Sophie shrugged, then winced, her fingers tenderly feeling her injured shoulder. “Fine. It was late, near midnight. I was asleep up in my room when Brian came in, woke me up and told me to follow him quietly.”

  “Did he say why?” Mr Jones asked, scribbling away.

  Sophie gave him a scathing look. “When you learn at the feet of Brian Lloyd, you do exactly what he says, you never question.”

  The witch-hunter looked slightly embarrassed, but Hunter, who knew this to be the blunt truth, quietly asked Sophie to continue.

  “We went downstairs, to his weapons lock. He was in a hurry for us both to be kitted up. Then he just froze and said ‘No time.’ Then he said, ‘I’m sorry.’ And… and I saw pity in his eyes - he never… But anyway, next thing he locks me in that cupboard. There was no way out. A few minutes later, the place started to shake, then there was a massive blast. The world was turned upside down and I was knocked out. That’s all I remember.”

  “Mhmn.” Mr Jones continued to write. “Do you have any idea who was attacking?”

  “No, I’m only a 1st gen. It was Brian that sensed the danger.”

  “And can you think of any recent cases, any events that might explain this huge attack?”

  “Yes, no, I don’t know.” Sophie answered, getting riled up now. She grunted and put her hand to her aching head. “There were so many cases. We are witch-hunters, after all.”

  She looked up at Hunter, a clear demand in her eyes. “Where’s Brian? No one will tell me how he’s doing.”

  Hunter dropped her gaze. “He didn’t make it.”

  “No.” She sat in shock, her eyes darting to each of them as if willing them to deny it.

  Mr Jones finally put away his notebook. “We’re sorry for your loss, our loss. Once you’ve recovered, the MMC will make arrangements.”

  “I’m fine.” Sophie replied curtly. “And I’m not staying in some hospital bed.”

  “She’s coming with me.” Hunter said quietly.

  The other witch-hunter looked at him with surprise, knowing that he’d already taken on one 1st gen, and that Hunter Astley was a famously proud man.

  “I can take on another apprentice. It’s what Brian would have wanted.”

  *****

  It took until 11am to get Sophie discharged, and the doctors still weren’t happy about it. Hunter drove back, James sitting in silent sorrow next to him, Sophie asleep on the back seat. Eventually they were pulling up on the gravel driveway at the front of Astley Manor. Hunter saw an unfamiliar car parked up, but was too tired to wonder.

  Charles was at the door, waiting for them. “Good morning, sir. Mrs King arrived half an hour ago and insisted on waiting for you.”

  “Thank you, Charles.” Hunter replied wearily. “Oh, and Charles, Miss Mur
phy is going to be staying with us. Will you prepare her a room?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Silence enveloped the three of them again, and they moved together into the sitting room.

  “Hunter!” Charlotte jumped up from her seat as they entered. “I came as soon as I heard. It’s - I can’t believe it.” Her eyes were red from tears already shed and they as threatened to spill again, Hunter pulled her into a fierce hug. This time he needed her, as much as she needed him.

  “The grumpy old sod had a good running.” Hunter muttered, making Charlotte gulp a laugh.

  There was a clink of glass as James poured four drinks. He handed them out. “To Brian, loved and hated in equal measure.”

  Hunter raised his glass, “To Brian, the scariest bloke ever known.”

  Charlotte raised her glass. “To Brian, sexist, but brilliant.”

  The three old friends tapped their glasses together and drank, both cheered and saddened by their memories of him.

  Sophie sat in quiet exclusion, in the corner. She sipped the warming alcohol, watching the group vaguely, her eyes still glazed with shock.

  *****

  “Thanks for coming today.” Hunter said to Charlotte, later in the afternoon.

  “I was planning to come, anyway. Oh, I almost forgot why.” She said suddenly, turning to her handbag and pulling out a white envelope. “Brian and I were in contact a lot lately. Both of us were trying to solve your wiccan problem. He gave me this yesterday, before -” Charlotte broke off, then regained her composure. “He wanted me to pass it on to you.”

  Hunter frowned, taking the thick, unmarked envelope. He tore it open and pulled out the contents. A letter. The handwriting was ever so familiar.

  George,

  With luck, Charlotte King has given you this. I had to get this message to you without drawing further attention to myself. I’m in danger, and I no longer have the strength to fight it. All the same, I will never forgive myself for passing this onto you. But I don’t know who else to trust.

  Things are worse than you thought. I can’t go into detail in this letter. Charlotte has a key for you, it’s for a locker, I’ve enclosed the address. In the locker is my research concerning your wiccan, and my own work I started last year.

  Hopefully I’ll still be on hand to help you with this. But I had to write. Just in case.

  Yours,

  Brian Lloyd

  Beware the shadows

  Hunter’s hand shook as he passed the letter to the others. In the envelope was a slip of paper, just as he said. Charlotte silently slid him a small key.

  “My God, it sounds as though he knew he was going to-” James muttered as he read it.

  “Beware the shadows?” Charlotte repeated fearfully. “You don’t think he means…?”

  Hunter shook his head, in his hand he gripped the key so tightly it dug into his palm. “We’ll know soon enough.” Yes, he would go, find out what his mentor was being so secretive about. There was a new threat on the horizon, they could be sure of that at least.

  But a wave of fatigue from the long day and its sorrows washed over him. There was nothing they could do until tomorrow.

  “Tomorrow. Tomorrow.”

  Six

  It was a long drive to Cumbria the next day. The fact that Brian had taken the precaution of hiding his research across the country, in such a random place, added to Hunter’s fear of the enormity of what they might find.

  Hunter would have gone alone, but James insisted on accompanying him, because how could he help if he wasn’t there. Sophie, with some embarrassment, asked to come because she dare not be alone yet. Charlotte couldn’t take such a trip - Hunter discovered with some dismay that she was suffering with morning sickness.

  So Hunter and James sat in the front, arguing over whether to listen to Grimshaw or Evans, and Sophie sat in the back, reading quietly.

  “So, you gonna to tell us where we’re going?” James eventually asked.

  “Carlisle.” Hunter replied shortly.

  “Carlisle? Christ, we’ll be driving all day!” James twisted in his seat to look back at Sophie, “Hey, Soph, did you know about Carlisle, I mean, did Brian say owt?”

  Sophie glanced up from her book, frowning at the shortening of her name. “No. He never mentioned where he was going. He just used to disappear for a couple of days every fortnight. I just assumed he had a woman somewhere.”

  The two men shuddered at the thought of old Brian with a woman. And all settled in for a long drive.

  *****

  It was mid-afternoon by the time they got there. Hunter pulled up outside a plain building. “Keep the car running.” He said to James. “I’ll be back in a minute. Hopefully.”

  They waited in silence. James started to drum his fingertips on the wheel as he gazed out of the window avidly, as though expecting a witch to leap on them right there.

  Sophie gritted her teeth against the annoying sound. “Can you stop that?”

  “Sorry.” James replied sheepishly. “Nervous.”

  Hunter wasn’t long; he soon stepped out of the building with a large sports bag, which he dumped in the car boot before jumping back into the driver’s seat and driving off without a word.

  “You can’t tell me we’re going to drive all the way home before looking at what’s in there?” Sophie asked sceptically.

  Hunter grinned in the rear-view mirror. “You think we can wait that long?”

  They drove until they were out of the town and kept going until they found a roadside picnic area. The place was empty, and it was quiet, except from the steady traffic that roared by, passengers ignorant of everything outside the car.

  The three of them sat around a worn wooden bench, with the bag in front of them. Hunter glanced at the other two - this was it. He slowly unzipped the bag. Inside there were stacks of papers, some cardboard files and such. The three of them craned forward, then gingerly picked through it all.

  “Well, here’s some information on a period of intense persecution of wiccans by witches. It doesn’t give dates on this sheet though,” Hunter peered into the bag. “There should be the rest of it in there…”

  “Hm, this file has records of witches and wiccans from - wow, the 1940s.” Sophie voiced.

  “Well, this might be important, but I’ll be damned if I can read it.” James said, as he leafed through some old papers with scrawled handwriting.

  They continued to look through the work for another half-hour, it seemed as though Brian had a unique way of ordering things. They made no immediate discovery to how it was all linked, nor to why it was so important to Brian. It was quite the anti-climax.

  James was the first to admit defeat. He pushed the papers back into the bag. “Look, we aint gonna solve this in the next five minutes, and I feel uncomfy havin’ these out in the open.”

  “Home we go then.” Hunter suggested, not relishing another five hour drive.

  “Actually,” Sophie interrupted. “My mum doesn’t live far away, over in the Lake District. I was going to ask if you could drop me off - I haven’t seen her since I joined Brian. But I’m sure she’d put us all up for the night, and we can drive down tomorrow.”

  “I vote yes.” James immediately piped up.

  “Be careful, Sophie, that was you almost being nice to us,” Hunter teased. “But yes, why not. And we get to meet your mother!”

  *****

  The countryside was beautiful, wild hills and deep valleys, the road twisted and rose and fell to make its way through nature. Often a wide expanse of water lay off to one side or the other, a few boats still out on the lakes on a fine evening. With Sophie’s directions they came to the village of Keswick and were soon pulling up outside her mother’s house. It was an old cottage on the outskirts of the village and the whole atmosphere of the place was one of rough country warmth.

  Hunter lugged the big bag with him as he and James followed Sophie up to the front door.

  “Mum!” Sophie called out a
s she opened the door.

  The figure of Mrs Murphy quickly came to meet them, the poor woman getting a shock at the state of her daughter; she reached out, tenderly touching the darkly-bruised face, her eyes taking in the fresh cuts on Sophie’s bare arms. “Oh my darling, my Sophie.”

  Mrs Murphy was just as tall as her daughter, just as graceful in figure. It was easy to see where Sophie got her looks from. Although when Mrs Murphy finally turned to her visitors, it was with a softer expression than her daughter had ever managed.

  “Mum, this is Hunter and James, my colleagues.” Sophie introduced.

  All softness that Hunter perceived was suddenly revoked when Mrs Murphy worked out that these were the evil witch-hunters that had led her daughter astray.

  “Mum, these were the ones that saved my life, when I was in Italy.” Sophie stressed each word, warning her dear mother to behave herself.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Murphy.” Hunter said, extending his hand.

  “Please, call me Bev.” She replied with a polite smile, still undecided on whether to like these two young men. “I’m afraid all I can offer our guests is the fold-out settee in the conservatory. I’ll let you put your bags - er, bag down.”

  She showed them through the small cottage to the make-shift guest room. As oldy-worldy and traditional as the cottage had looked from the outside, the interior was all cool, modern lines and light colours. Hunter and James politely dawdled in the warm conservatory, giving Sophie time with her mum. But eventually they joined them back in the small living room.

  The two women were sitting together on the settee, heads close as they talked, and Bev didn’t look happy. “You shouldn’t be travelling in your condition, only out of hospital. Oh that you ended up in hospital!”