Eight
Every once in a while they all suffered to sit through the charade of a civilised dinner. Hunter, as master of the house, sat at the head of the table; his mother, styling herself as Astley Manor’s own dowager empress, sat opposite him at the far end of the slightly too long table. This suited Hunter to have his mother seated as far away as possible, and he often employed the use of candelabras or a vase to block her from view completely.
James and Sophie submitted to sitting wherever Mrs Astley decided in her elaborate ideas of a perfect seating plan, even for such a small party. After all, it was easier to go along with something so harmless to keep the stubborn bag appeased.
Unfortunately today Mrs Astley was in a talkative mood, and she raised her sharp voice so that her unimportant comments could be heard clearly down the table.
“And at least Mrs Harsmith has daughters to keep her company now Mr Harsmith is gone. All Mr Astley deigned to give me was an adventurous, cad of a son. Although I don’t doubt you have half-sisters across the whole of England, George. But why I couldn’t have had a daughter instead. You must get married, George, so that I might have a daughter-in-law, preferably before I die of old age.”
Hunter smirked and nearly choked on his soup. In the corner of his eye he could see the slight shake of James’ shoulders, as he too found Mrs Astley amusing. The newcomer, Sophie, seemed frozen in her seat, eyes wide at the open berating at the dinner table.
“Don’t slurp your soup, George. Oh, you are too much like your father - I had hoped that a man from such an old family would have been well-mannered - well-moneyed was more like it. Young was as disgustingly common and ill-behaved as those football louts that always appear on the news.”
“No he wasn’t mother.” Hunter corrected, protective of the memory of his father.
“Don’t be so sure. Going to scruffy pubs, coming back drunken on cheap beer, swearing.” Mrs Astley broke off, aghast at the mere thought of it. “Oh, I wish the witch had killed me, death would have been preferable to a torturous lifetime with Young.”
“Mother, please remember that we have guests.” Hunter said, before she could get too depressive.
Mrs Astley looked up, as though surprised to see James and Sophie there, she frowned at her son’s assumption.
“Guests? I see no guests. I see two of your witch-hunter underlings that have the cheek to live off our kindness. That you live beside your staff as equals, George! It is most unbecoming.”
“They are my friends, and as I am master of this house they shall remain here as my guests for as long as they like.” Hunter replied with bite.
“Friends? Oh, you keep such bad company. When I think back to the boys from school - why don’t you keep in touch, invite them to stay? Better them than these two. The girl is pretty, I admit, but I doubt she has a drop of good blood in her body. As for the young man, that hideous voice resonates through the house, the indecipherable accent - and what’s more he’s proud of it!”
Hunter sat back in his chair, a clenched fist by his mouth and his body near shaking. He was torn between anger and amusement, his mother was irritating and offensive, but the old girl was bloody entertaining.
*****
“Bring Sophie out into the yard, James.” Hunter ordered, shrugging a light jacket on.
Hunter made his way into the courtyard at the rear of the house, the smooth square open on one side to the fields beyond where high grass browned in the weak summer sun. He gently dropped the bag he was carrying and knelt down to open in, sorting through the necessary tools of training it contained.
Hunter rose at the sound of footsteps behind him as James and Sophie came obediently to meet him. It had been five days since the attack at Brian’s house and although misleadingly upbeat, Sophie still showed the physical marks of the tragedy, her skin coloured with bruises and her shoulder thickly padded with bandages. But hurt or not, Hunter wanted to waste no time - he’d already waited these five days with impatience.
“All right Sophie, I need to know what Brian managed to teach you about attack and defence.” Hunter said seriously. He held out a small dull object which Sophie took gingerly.
“It may seem brutal, but guns are our main weapons.” Hunter said in response to her reaction, then bit his tongue, fearing to sound too apologetic. There was nothing to be sorry about, violent witches had to be killed, and was there a more efficient method?
“I want an idea of your aim. Now,” Hunter pointed out across the field, about 100 yards away a wooden board stood, targets painted in fading colours. “Aim and fire.”
Sophie glanced at both men with a moment’s uncertainty, then took a deep breath and did as she was bid. The gun went off with a mighty crack that reverberated about the courtyard and made Sophie jump.
Hunter ignored her, his sharp eyes watching the bullet miss the entire board. “Don’t rush. Later, when a witch is charging you down with spells blazing - that is when you are permitted to rush. But here and now I want accuracy, not speed. Try again.”
Sophie scowled at Hunter’s little criticizing speech, but said nothing in return. She raised the gun again, and altered her aim, taking her time, focusing on a spot slightly lower, as Brian had taught her.
She fired again. This time there was a satisfying ‘thuck’ as the bullet embedded itself in the board, just off the target.
“Better, again.” Hunter simply said.
Sophie repeated the process, making her corrections to aim. The third bullet hit the target dead centre. She almost smiled and tilted her head in an arrogant pose. Hunter still ignored her.
“Perfect.” He commented. “Again.”
Sophie frowned but continued, firing until the chamber was empty and her ears were ringing.
“Not too bad, I suppose.” Hunter admitted. “But I want you to practise daily. I’m sure James can give you extra tuition if you find you need it.”
Hunter’s comment made James redden and Sophie scowl, but he just smiled in a knowing manner.
“Right, James help Sophie into a vest.” Hunter said, pulling the black stab jacket out of the bag and tossing it to James while he retrieved two tapered poles.
James caught it clumsily, hesitating. “You’re - you’re gonna make her fight?”
“How else am I to assess her abilities?”
James opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it. He reluctantly took the vest and held it up for Sophie to shrug into, then fitted it snugly about her slim figure.
Sophie ignored James’ lingering hands on her waist and took one of the tapered poles from Hunter, it was about a foot long and made of smooth, solid wood. She looked up at Hunter, her expression giving nothing away.
“Now, until you learn to handle yourself properly, it’s safer using these, if you manage to improve, we’ll move onto real knives.” Hunter instructed. “So, take first position as Brian taught you, and attack me as though I were a witch.”
Sophie remained still. “You’re not going to put on a vest?”
“You won’t hit me.” Hunter replied condescendingly. “First position, if you please Miss Murphy.”
Sophie bit her tongue and prepared, pole raised, her balance evenly placed over both feet and flexible.
“And attack.” Hunter ordered.
Sophie lunged forward, driving the tapered point of the pole at Hunter’s chest. Faster than she could follow, her pole was knocked aside with a stinging crack and Hunter was off to a side, his pole an inch from her ribs. Sophie caught her breath and stared at him in amazement.
“How…?”
“Seventh generation.” Hunter replied shortly. “You were too slow, even for a first gen. Try again. First position, and attack.”
Sophie threw herself into the movement with all her strength, but again her pole was knocked aside and Hunter’s was hovering at her neck. This time he was frowning.
“Too erratic. You need to be fast, accurate, or you’re dead.” Hunter wiped his face with his hand, as though trying to rub a growing headache out of his forehead. “Great. Right, back to basics.”
They spent the next hour going through every position and motion, repeating again and again, Hunter correcting every minor flaw, accepting nothing but perfection. Sometimes he pulled James in to model and practise a succession of moves.
Eventually Hunter was happy enough to allow practise bouts again. He stood across from Sophie, whose face was already paling with the hint of exhaustion. They came to, this time Sophie moved correctly and there was the attack, parry, attack, parry, with the clacking rhythm of a violent dance. But Sophie slipped up and Hunter got past her guard, barely stopping his pole from jabbing her hip.
“Again.” He demanded.
They came to again and again, each time Sophie fighting more desperately, each time she slipped up Hunter’s patience shortened and he began to tap her harder with the pole, until he snapped at her incompetence and hit her harder than he meant to.
Sophie shouted in pain and shock and Hunter dropped his pole, eyes wide in self-disgust, but no apology reached his lips.
“Hunter!” James stepped in, angry with his friend, protective of Sophie. “Come on, that’s enough for today, she’s knackered. You ‘ad no right to hit her, she’s still hurt.”
“She’s got to learn.” Hunter replied quietly, stooping to collect his pole from the ground.
“That’s no reason -”
“James! I don’t need your pity nor protection.” Sophie interrupted sharply. She glanced at Hunter. “Again.”
Hunter looked guiltily into that usually pale face that was now flushed with pain and exertion. “Look Sophie, if you’re hurt, maybe…”
“I’m not in pain, I’m…” Sophie sighed, her annoyance clear and moved into first position, she spoke in a low and determined voice. “Again.”
Hunter reluctantly raised his pole and nodded. Again there was the crack of wood on wood as they parried and pushed and circled. An aura of determination emanated from Sophie. She gave a great shout of rage as she attacked and her pole passed through Hunter’s block and graze his elbow.
Hunter stepped back and looked at her in surprise. He hadn’t been holding back - not much anyway - it was a rare person that could land even the slightest blow on him.
“That’s better.” He conceded. “Let’s call it a day. James can be your practise partner for the rest of the week.”
Sophie pushed back her dark hair, damp with sweat, still breathing heavily she flashed a victorious smile at James who couldn’t take his eyes off her.
*****
The James and Sophie “episode” didn’t last very long.
At first, James had restrained himself to being a helpful, but constant presence for Sophie. Always there to offer company, or just a cup of tea; always on hand to help with a difficult translation of foreign text, or unravelling Brian’s messy handwriting.
Hunter watched his friend’s progress with a detached interest. After all these years, had impulsive, coarse James finally learnt tact and charm? It was almost disappointing to see things go so smoothly between him and Sophie. The sensible part of Hunter thought that it would be best for James and Sophie to have a mature relationship that wouldn’t compromise their work. Unfortunately, this sensible part was dwarfed by a hope that Sophie would get out her claws as soon as James made his move, regardless of a happy working environment. For entertainment purposes only, of course, Hunter had no other reason to not see his two companions together.
The results of James efforts came to fruition one very normal afternoon, a fortnight after Sophie had joined them in Astley Manor. Hunter had just had a long, detailed conversation on the phone with someone at the MMC. They’d wanted to know (in an indifferent manner) how Miss Murphy was settling in, whether she’d remembered anything more from the night Brian had died. Hunter had dutifully filled them in on her state of recovery and that they had taken her to visit her mother - neatly failing to mention Brian’s parting gift.
The droning voice on the other end of the phone had given Hunter a headache. Oh well, nothing cured a headache like staring at a load of musty old books!
As Hunter walked down the corridor, Sophie exited the library in a hurry, slamming the door behind her, then scowling and marching purposefully in his direction.
“Did you put him up to it?” She demanded, eyes blazing.
“Did I - what?” Hunter stuttered, taken aback.
“James, did you encourage him to…” Sophie broke off, too furious for words. “And I was foolish enough to think he was being kind for kindness sake. Can no one in this bloody world see me as a witch-hunter, rather than a girl that needs to be partnered off?!”
Her question was rhetorical and she was already storming off by the time she’d finished ranting. Hunter smiled grimly as he heard the front door clanged shut as Sophie left the Manor. He had a notion why Sophie was so mad.
Curious as to the particulars, Hunter resumed his short walk to the library. True to form James had his head in a book - at least he looked busy.
“James?” Hunter asked mildly. “What have you done?”
“Nuthin’.” He grunted in reply.
“Of course. So Sophie is raging for no reason.”
James looked up, his face was flushed red with either embarrassment or anger, Hunter couldn’t tell which.
“It were nuthin’. I just asked Sophie out for a drink an’ she said no.” James replied with an overly nonchalant shrug.
Hunter watched him sceptically. “And what else did you say to upset her so badly?”
“Nuthin’.” James repeated.
“Very well, if you’ve said nothing to offend Sophie, I’ll have a word with her, get her to apologise for her temper.” Hunter replied innocently.
“I-I may’ve been a bit rude.” James finally confessed. “I mean, she had no reason to be so abrupt, not when I’d been so nice to her an’ everything. So I might’ve called ‘er a tease - a vicious tease. And I might’ve said she were shallow an’ arrogant.”
Hunter shook his head, he wasn’t sure whether he found it all too funny, or too upsetting. “You’ll have to say sorry.”
“Hey, she gave as good as she got.” James argued.
James seemed to miss the point about being a charming gentleman, it wasn’t the looks and confidence that was valuable, it was being the first to apologise, and the last to say an unkind word.
“Why did you get so wound up?” Hunter asked, thinking that this was bad even for James.
James shrugged and looked away. “Dunno. There’s just something about her. I liked her, and after all that effort she didn’t feel the same way. Said she weren’t interested in no-one. But I figure she’s lying, probably just waiting for a better offer than common ol’ me.”
Hunter tried to ignore the bitter, hurt tone in his best friend’s voice. It was hard enough hearing this unusually open confession. But James would get over it, Hunter selfishly hoped that it wouldn’t affect his work.
The final insinuation made Hunter frown, it seemed like everyone expected him to swoop down on the beautiful Sophie.
“Well, I can promise you that the ice bitch isn’t going to get a better offer in this house.” Hunter replied with slightly forced humour.
James smiled and relaxed, made a little happier with Hunter’s promise.
*****
It had been a long day. Hunter was still wearing his suit from the memorial service held for Brian Lloyd. It had been a suitably miserable day as the black-clad crowd stood about a plinth, erected to commemorate the greatest witch-hunters.
Witch-hunters had come from all over Britain, and there were even those from foreign MMCs. Hunter had always known that Brian Lloyd was special, but his personal closeness to the man had blinded him to exactly how special and respected.
A high-standing member of the Council had stood up and spoke in a monotonous tone about Mr Lloyd’s achievements and contributions. Hunter didn’t hear a word of it. He stood there, hands shoved deep in his coat pockets, a sad smile as he remembered their own toasts to him.
Later, when every softly spoken conversation was exhausted, the heartfelt (and perfunctory) toasts made, Hunter and his friends escaped back to Astley Manor.
Hunter went and locked himself in his library. It seemed wrong that they still hadn’t read through all of the papers Brian had left them, especially today. He was still sitting up in the early hours of the morning, matching information in Brian’s work to his own collection.
“Shit.” No, no, no. Hunter took a deep breath and rubbed his weary eyes, as though it could remove the revelation. Shit. Hunter jumped up, running through the sleeping house. “James!” He shouted, taking the stairs three at a time, “James!”
James came staggering out of his bedroom, just as Hunter reached the door, looking still asleep in his loose pyjamas. There was movement in the corridor as Sophie ran out, wrapping her dressing gown about her slim figure, a look of fear on her face.
Seeing her, Hunter suddenly remembered that the last time she was woken in the middle of the night had ended disastrously, and he felt a brief stab of guilt.
“Attack?” James asked, breathless.
Hunter shook his head. “Shadow.” The single word managed to break out, and Hunter took a deep breath, “Brian’s work, he was tracking the awakening of a Shadow.”
“You’re sure?” James asked, definitely awake now.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Wait, what’s a shadow?” Sophie interrupted, calmer now she knew there was no immediate danger.
“A Shadow Witch,” Hunter began, fighting down his own fear. “The most powerful witch - in a class of their own. But they are rare, near unheard of, there’s only been two in recorded history.”
“But it’s still a witch. The MMC can stop them?” Sophie asked, still not grasping the significance of the title.
Hunter shook his head. “This is magic without limits, the last Shadow Witch to gain a hold ended the Dark Ages and unleashed the chaos of the medieval witch-craze. Society crumbled through fear and witches gained positions of power, free to slaughter thousands. They turned their own hunted existence to their use, accusing and murdering innocent victims, all in the name of the good lord.”
“So this is a big deal, then.” Sophie replied flatly once Hunter had finished.
Hunter checked his watch, 3am. It was definitely important enough to wake everyone up, but he’d still be hated for it.
“James, get on the phone to the Council. Hopefully the foreign delegates haven’t left yet. Offer Astley Manor as a meeting place. I’m going downstairs, to see what my collection has to help.” No, there’d be no sleep tonight. “Ah, Sophie, you can go back to bed, if you want.”
“No, I’m awake now, I’ll help.”