The Shadow Rises

by K. S. Marsden

  Sophie’s frown deepened, but she nodded. Hunter had provided her with a personal handgun and small dagger - where she’d managed to hide them in that figure-hugging ensemble though… Hunter snapped back to attention.

  “Yes, James, let’s go.”

  They took the Land Rover, the 4x4 equipped with protective charms and the boot stocked with the tools of their trade. Sophie jumped into the passenger seat, and they drove in familiar silence to James’ modest house.

  And out came a pirate. And hadn’t he put the effort in: hat; dreadlocked wig; bandanna; skull shirt with homemade tearing; long shorts (again with the tears); and lord knows where he got the long boots, probably the same place he got the courage to wear them.

  “Nice outfit.” Sophie said carefully as James clambered into the back seat.

  “Thanks.” James replied, shooting a victorious look at Hunter.

  Friend or not, what an idiot. “James has worn the same outfit for the past three years. He got a bit of a Johnny Depp fixation when we were at university.” Hunter told Sophie, with a commendably deadpan expression.

  “Hey.” James shouted from the back. “I didn’t have a ‘fixation’. I just really enjoyed Pirates of the Caribbean, and I dare you to say Captain Jack wasn’t cool.”

  “I agree.” Hunter conceded. “He was cool. Five years ago. Now it’s only obsessives with no personal, original imagination of their own-”

  And Sophie sat quietly, staring out the car window at the moonlit fields and cottages. Over the past couple of months she’d gotten used to the two boys bickering like an old married couple.

  Soon, the view out her window was the stream of slow-moving cars and the bright lights of bars. The sound of music and the laughter of the revellers hit the car. Hunter parked up and they all got out and made their way into the nearest bar.

  “I know the MMC like us to be out and ready for action, but this?” Sophie asked, looking around with distaste.

  “Look, most activity isn’t until midnight. Sure, most witch-hunters will be sitting in their cars, drinking coffee and trawling the streets. But the MMC doesn’t care if we have one last party before getting on the job, as long as we stick to soft drinks.” Hunter replied seriously, after just handing out the first round of beer and wine. “You never know when it’s your last call. Besides, look around, we’re surrounded by victims. So relax, enjoy yourself for once.”

  Hmm, although she didn’t go wild, Sophie gave in to the party spirit and, after another glass of wine, she even deigned to smile every now and then.

  James, with the odd confidence bestowed by wearing a pirate costume was enjoying the dancefloor a bit too much for his sober state. Hunter had the fun of watching his friend make an arse of himself - he’d remind James of these embarrassing intervals at later times.

  Every now and then, bonny girls walked over to try and get Hunter to join in the dancing, but he declined and the girls were often chased away by a cold glare by Sophie.

  “Not getting jealous, are you?” Hunter laughed, leaning in towards her. “And I thought you didn’t like me!”

  Sophie, stiff and frozen as ever, turned away from him. “I just don’t think it is right. We’re working.”

  Hunter smiled, she didn’t change. He reached out and placed his hand on her lower back, he felt a thrill when she didn’t pull away. He got the sudden image of trying to gentle a wild horse that could turn and kick you in the head at any moment.

  “Come on, it’s twenty to twelve. Let’s get the dancing pirate and go.” Hunter said to her quietly.

  The trio emerged from the warm pub into the brittle, clear night. The first stop was the car, where they threw in their extraneous costume and pulled out a kit bag each. Then they meandered without any particular aim to the edge of the night scene. It was here, where drunken revellers stumbled away from their pubs and clubs, making their way home, it was here the witches were likely to hunt their prey.

  All they could do was wander the streets, waiting for something to prick Hunter’s senses. Hunter glanced at his watch, nearly midnight. A sigh escaped him, this time last year he was being torn apart by all the magic being used. He was pretty confident that he could sense magic within a fifteen mile radius. But still nothing. What the hell was going on?

  “Hunter.”

  Thirteen

  “Hunter?”

  Sophie’s voice came so quiet and she sounded so scared, Hunter felt fear grip his heart as he turned. Sophie stood there, looking strangely stiff.

  “Sophie, you alright?” James asked, looking at her carefully.

  Sophie didn’t reply. Her eyes closed and slowly a smile creased her red lips. There was a bristling of energy about her.

  “Oh shit.” Hunter grabbed James and pulled him back from her, expecting an outburst.

  But nothing flamboyant happened, yet. The energy of magic was so high that Hunter felt deafened by it.

  Sophie opened her eyes, unseeingly. By the lamplight her hazel eyes were clouded over with what looked like thick white cataracts.

  “Sophie, what are you doing? Can you hear me?” Hunter said loudly.

  Sophie tilted her head slightly and looked at Hunter with an expression of curiosity. “Sophie can hear you. But unfortunately can’t answer, you see she has given control of this vessel to me tonight.” The voice was Sophie’s with something of a deeper tone, throbbing with power.

  “You’re a witch. She wouldn’t - Sophie would not help a witch.” James almost shouted back.

  Sophie turned slowly to look directly at James with those clouded eyes. “Simple boy, I don’t need a willing soul, she still fights my presence - quite annoying, very stubborn. But I am stronger. Shall I prove it?”

  Her hand threw up and James gasped, dropping to his knees and clawing at his constricted chest, unable to breath, his heart struggling to beat.

  “Stop!” Hunter screamed. “By the Malleus Maleficarum I command you to stop.”

  “For now.” The voice replied, dropping Sophie’s hand. Immediately James began to gulp down lungful’s of air, his face red. “If he speaks again, he dies.”

  “What do you want?” Hunter asked, forcing himself to remain calm. What else could he do, a witch was attacking his two friends.

  “I want to see you, you who discovered my return; you Astley, whose family seems tied to my fate.”

  “Shadow… The Shadow Witch.” The words whispered from his lips in disbelief. Hunter had a right to be scared. “Then here I am, leave my friends out of it.”

  Sophie smiled. “I have not come to kill you, not tonight. But now I see your weakness, I see how close you are to these insignificant mortals. I see into this girl’s thoughts and I see what pain I could inflict by killing them instead.”

  “No, you can’t. I won’t let you.”

  “Ah, now we come to it, Astley.” The Shadow Witch spat his name out with such hatred, as though they had cursed his existence in their heart every day. “Can you stop me? You are a remarkable young man, I am sure. But now, I stand before you as vulnerable as you will ever find me. I am so strongly within this girl for this brief time - shoot her, kill us both.”

  Hunter raised his gun, pointing the barrel level at Sophie’s chest. Yes, Sophie was just one person, with her death she could spare hundreds, possibly thousands of lives. His hand was steady, which was a miracle in itself.

  No, he was not a murderer, not for the greater good. And he couldn’t sacrifice Sophie, of all people. He slowly lowered the gun.

  Sophie smiled, clouded eyes still fixed on Hunter. “I will make you regret your weakness, Astley. She will die.”

  “Don’t you dare hurt Sophie, or I’ll make it your regret. Now relinquish this girl.” Hunter said fiercely.

  There was one last ghost of a smile on Sophie’s lips and then she crumpled. Hunter grabbed her, barely slowing her fall as Sophie hit the pavement. James, who had been hovering uselessly, now dashed to her side.

  “She’s still alive.”
James said, having checked her pulse and breathing. He glanced up at Hunter. “What on earth was that about?”

  Hunter was equally confused. If that had been the Shadow Witch, what had been the point of contacting Hunter? No information given on either side, no deaths despite the threats. Surely they hadn’t wished to just turn up and gloat in a big bad clichéd way.

  “I don’t know.” Hunter responded. “But let’s get Sophie back to the car.”

  James picked up the three heavy kit bags, and Hunter gently lifted Sophie’s unconscious form. Although his senses were on high alert, Hunter felt no trace of magic remaining in the girl.

  Back at the car the two men struggled to get Sophie onto the back seat.

  “Shit!” Hunter jumped and swore as his mobile rang suddenly. He muttered at his own nerves and answered it sharply. It took a moment to understand the fast, panicked voice on the other end.

  “Hey, slow down. Now what’s happened?” Hunter asked, still not sure who he was talking to.

  “They took her, the witches took her, I thought this place was protected, Hunter. But the shadows grew and wrapped around her and then Charlotte was gone.”

  Charlotte. Oh no. No, no, no. When the Shadow Witch had said ‘she’ would die, they had meant someone more important to Hunter than even Sophie.

  “Look Steve, we’ll get her back, I promise you.”

  “If anything happens, I’ll hold you responsible.”

  The line went dead. Hunter sat in a state of shock.

  “Hunter.” James’ voice broke through the haze.

  “Get on the phone, alert all the witch-hunters, the MMC, everyone. We need to find where she’s been taken.” Hunter said, suddenly spurred into action.

  “Hunter.” James repeated calmly. “Sophie’s awake.”

  They both twisted in their seats to face Sophie, who was sitting straight and strong again. Looking into her eyes, although filled with panic, they were back to their cold hazel depths.

  “The witch, I didn’t let her, I tried to stop her but she was so strong.” She looked down at her hands, flexing them, as though confirming her own control over her body again. “James, I-I’m sorry. And Hunter, it’s all my fault. I could feel her, she sifted through my thoughts and memories and I was powerless to stop her. I showed her Charlotte.”

  “We don’t blame you.” Hunter said quickly, not sure if it was true. “We need to get moving, to find her before…”

  His voice trailed off, so he started the engine.

  “We don’t even know where to start.” James reasoned.

  “Actually.” Sophie said quietly, surprising the guys with a brief smile of pride. “The Shadow Witch was so preoccupied, she didn’t notice that I could get into her thoughts. I saw a village church, it was a St Peters. It’s not much to go on, but if all witch-hunters head to the nearest one, we’ve got more of a chance.”

  James was already on the phone, repeating Sophie’s words to the Council. Hunter slammed the car into gear and sped off, ignoring every traffic rule. James kept his mobile glued to his ear and spewed out directions to Hunter to their nearest St Peters. But soon it was unnecessary, as the miles flew by and they drew closer, Hunter could feel the pull of magic, telling them that this was the place.

  They had all fallen silent by the time they had pulled up outside the church. It was a small, stone-built with old leaded windows. It was a lonely little building in a forgotten village.

  The two men got out of the car and Sophie made to follow them.

  “On no, you don’t, you’re staying in the car.” Hunter said, blocking her way.

  “Hunter, I’m a witch-hunter, I’m coming.” Sophie responded, trying to push the car door out of his grip.

  “No. The Shadow Witch has gone after you once already - stay in the car where you’re protected.”

  Reluctantly, Sophie agreed. James pulled the kit bags out the boot. Hunter grabbed his stab jacket, pulling it on over his shirt. He took a deep breath, well, this was it.

  “Hunter.” Sophie grabbed his sleeve as he moved to leave, then pulled him close, pressing her soft lips against his, the scent of her skin and perfume. She released him slowly, reluctantly. “Come back alive.”

  Hunter staggered back and followed a silent James up to the church door. He glanced back once, unable to see Sophie’s face clearly in the dark car.

  At the church door, James turned to him. “Now what?”

  Oh hell. They had never faced anything this big, for someone they cared so strongly for. Was this what it felt like, to know death waited impatiently for you?

  “We go in.” Hunter replied, meeting James’ knowing gaze. “It’s been fun.”

  They might die here tonight, but they both knew that they would never turn back. Hunter went first, pushing his weight against the thick wooden door. Inside the church was dimly lit by candles along the aisle and eaves. It was quiet, filled with shadows, empty of life. Hunter stepped cautiously up the centre aisle; there was something at the altar.

  She lay as though asleep, her beautiful face serene, her arms by her side.

  “Charlotte.” Hunter whispered as he forgot all his caution and rushed up to her, desperate for her to respond. He reached out, now scared to touch her, her cheek felt warm against his hand. “Charlotte.”

  His hand traced her chest for any heartbeat, but stopped as he felt the soaked material of her black jumper. Blood stained his fingers. “No.” He growled, anger and sorrow firing up within him like never before.

  “Hunter.” James hissed.

  Hunter turned and immediately saw what had gained James’ attention. Out of the shadows, black-clad figures stepped into the candlelight until a dozen witches faced them.

  Hunter welcomed them. A raw fury filled Hunter’s heart and soul. He would die and be with Charlotte again, but he would take as many of these bastards with him as possible.

  “Come on then!” He screamed, raised his gun and fired. There was a rumble and a crack and the world seemed to be torn apart. The twelve witches were thrown off their feet and back with a force against the stone walls and pillars. A fierce tempest whipped through the church, shaking it to its foundations. Masonry dust shook from the walls and rafters and suddenly great chunks of torn wood and stone were falling all about them.

  *****

  James opened his eyes, the world had not ended and he was somehow still alive. Ugh, bloody battered, but alive. The old church was nothing but rubble. He got slowly to his feet and looked around. The witches were barely visible beneath the stone, immobile limbs sticking up in awkward places.

  Half fearful, James turned back to face where Hunter had been standing. The altar was still there, with Charlotte laid out serenely, Hunter standing over her. They were miraculously untouched, with only the faint layer of dust to show that they had been part of the scene. How the hell?

  *****

  “We need to talk about what happened.” James said seriously. They were perched on the church wall and the first people from the MMC were just arriving.

  Hunter remained silent, staring into the dark countryside.

  “Hunter, I think the MMC will notice the church, they can count too - two of us against twelve witches that appeared out of nowhere. You’re gonna have to talk to them. But first, we need to work out what happened.” James paused for breath. He’d been expecting to die tonight - he should have died tonight. “That much power, it had to be the Shadow Witch, but does that mean she’s playing with us, or she wants you alive for some scary reason. Did you feel her presence, her magic?”

  Hunter shook his head, no he hadn’t felt anything, nothing except his own anger. And now he felt dead inside. “Let’s go home.” He muttered.

  “We’ve got to stay, to help the Council. We’ve still got work to do.”

  “I don’t bloody care!” Hunter shouted, getting fired up again, “The Council can go f-”

  He jumped down from the wall and marched off. James had to rush to catch him.
>
  “Ok mate, we’ll deal with them later. But I’ll drive.”

  Fourteen

  It was dawn by the time they got back to Astley Manor. The trio shivered against the cold of the morning as they staggered into the entrance hall. There they stood, all unsure of what to do, how to act next.

  James was the first to speak, his voice shaking with his own sorrow. "Hunter... do you want to, er, talk?"

  "Will talking bring Charlotte back?" Hunter asked in a dead voice. His tired eyes looked up at James. "No, I didn't think so. I don't want to talk."

  Hunter sighed and pushed past the others, disappearing into the recesses of the mansion.

  Sophie went to follow him, but hesitated, every part of her uncertain. "Should I... is there anything I could do?"

  "No." James snapped, then shrugged. "Sorry. But I think we should leave him for a while."

  They stood in the hall for several long, silent minutes before James broke the silence again. "Perhaps you should just go to bed, you've had one hell of a night." He suggested, moving off up the staircase himself. One hell of a night for all of them. Christ.

  Hunter had wandered into the sitting room, where a fire crackled in the grate. He’d been standing here only twelve hours ago, yet so much had happened.

  “Oh, so you all decided to come back then?” A familiarly sharp voice came from the doorway, “I swear you use Hallowe’en as an excuse for all night frivolities, as Young did.”

  “Not now, mother.” Hunter said through gritted teeth as he turned to face the bitter little woman.

  “Oh dear, what happened?” Mrs Astley asked, somehow managing to make a possibly caring question sound harsh and spiteful.

  “Charlotte. They killed Charlotte.” Hunter turned away as his eyes filled with tears. Oh God, why her. He felt as though he’d lost a reason to live. The Shadow Witch was right about him, he was weak because he cared.