Nine
The Council had done a good job at dragging witch-hunters into a meeting at such short notice. By midday Astley Manor was a hub of noise as over fifty witch-hunters of various nationalities gathered. At 2pm they all piled into the long hall, where Hunter went over all the details under the sceptical gaze of his fellow witch-hunters.
Outside the closed door, two people were left out.
“This is ridiculous, we should be in there.” Sophie spat, glaring at the door that separated them from the meeting.
James shrugged. “I’m a first gen too, we’re not permitted to attend witch-hunter meetings, except for exceptional circumstances.” Yeah, but it was still a bitch. “Besides, we know everything Hunter has to say, and he’ll tell us everything they say.”
“It’s still not as good as hearing it for ourselves. And if this isn’t an exceptional circumstance, what is?!”
They waited impatiently for a good couple of hours, hearing nothing except the odd, inarticulate shout.
“Hunter said there were two Shadow Witches.” Sophie said suddenly, making James jump. “But this morning I could only find writings on one.”
James grimaced. “Not many people know about the second, some don’t even believe she even was a Shadow. She didn’t last long and it was all hushed up. Back in the 40s. I only know ‘cos Hunter-”
James broke off and eyed Sophie carefully. “Ah, I’m sure he won’t mind me tellin’ you. His grandfather, Old George V, brought her down. Just wish we knew how. The old man’s long dead and never spoke of it to anyone.”
Just then, finally, the doors opened and the witch-hunters poured out, followed in the end by Hunter. Just one look showed how disappointed he was. Several witch-hunters hung back to share a few words of encouragement, but eventually they were all gone.
“I need a drink.” Hunter muttered and slunk off to the kitchen to retrieve the much needed bottle of whiskey, and quickly poured himself a healthy glass full.
James and Sophie waited impatiently.
“Well?” James finally asked with exasperation.
Hunter took his time replying. “They’ve decided to do nothing.”
“What?!”
Again, a pause. “Oh, they believe there’s a Shadow Witch at least. Took long enough to persuade them on that. But they have decided that there is nothing more they can do - they are just going to keep on witch hunting until the Shadow Witch makes a move.”
“Well,” Sophie said hesitantly. “That’s not too bad.”
“Hah.” Hunter grimaced, “They wouldn’t change anything: putting more witch-hunters and Council staff on the case to track the Shadow down; they could increase communication between foreign MMCs; they could plan to unite all witch-hunters or at least form a plan of action in the case of the Shadow rising up. But no, they didn’t want to take priority away from normal business!”
Hunter’s rant left James and Sophie silent.
“The MMC in general may not be willing, but you’ve got me, as much as I can do.” Sophie said with calm confidence.
“And me.” James added. “And Charlotte is gonna help too, of course.”
*****
Sophie carefully carried the mugs of coffee as she descended the dimly lit stone stairs. She hissed when the hot drink spilled onto her hand and swore under her breath. For the past week, since the disappointing MMC meeting, Sophie felt like she’d done nothing but traipse up and down carrying drinks and sandwiches, or reading old manuscripts. On the whole it felt like she was achieving nothing.
Hunter and James had been researching too, but also had the more interesting duty of travelling to meet sources. They hadn’t taken Sophie, citing her inexperience, and needing to spread their resources as less than satisfactory reasons.
But today they were all in the Manor. They had found nothing more promising than Old George had killed the last Shadow Witch. Hunter reasoned that his grandfather’s belongings might hold some secret, protection or a weapon perhaps? No one had looked at the Astley Collection in detail for years now, so today they were attacking it with a vengeance. And Sophie was playing the little tea lady.
“Hey, coffee.” Sophie announced as she entered the library. She glanced to Hunter who was absorbed in his work, and the last mug of coffee she'd brought him sitting untouched and stone cold at the side of the desk. She sighed. "You know, I won't bother if you're not going to drink it."
Hunter looked up guiltily and took the hot, fresh coffee from her, overly alert that their fingers brushed at the exchange. Sophie seemed to notice it too, a faint rise of colour in her cheeks, and she looked swiftly away.
"Did you find anything new?" She asked casually.
Hunter shook his head, “Old George didn’t believe in organisation. If he had a filing system, it wasn’t one known to man. I’m struggling to find anything in his notes either.”
Hunter sighed and leant back. Actually, he was discovering that he and Old George were alike in these traits. The only difference was that Old didn’t have James twittering and moaning in the background, but somehow making everything miraculously work smoothly.
Sophie put her hand on his shoulder and leant forward to view the erratic notes, the papers weighted down with random objects of random interest. Her silky, dark brown hair fell forward, with a rich scent that Hunter couldn’t help noticing.
“Well, we’ll just have to keep at it.” Sophie replied, turning to face him as she spoke.
Close to, her hazel eyes had little flecks of gold. She was as harsh as ever, but that was something Hunter had come to accept. But he couldn’t help but stop with the realisation that she was beautiful. It did tend to make work awkward.
“Thank you.” Perhaps he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t break that gaze.
Sophie frowned. Her expressions were always so slight, but they were familiar now, the way her down-turned lips were set, the delicate crease of her brow.
“Look, Hunter…”
“HUNTER!”
They both jumped. There was the sound of trainers down the stone steps.
“Intercom, James.” Hunter chided.
“Yeah.” James answered offhandedly. “Anyway, I just got off the phone wi’ bloody Americans. Good news, they’re taking this seriously and want to act. Bad news, they want to run the show.”
“Ugh, I can’t be dealing with them.” Hunter muttered. He couldn’t deny that having them on board would be a huge help, but having them in charge - America’s way of running things resembled a big, bolshy kid with all brawn no brain.
“More good news.” James added, waving some paper in the air. “The German’s sent this through on the fax just now. I had some friends in their Council dig up anything from the 1940’s that could relate to the previous Shadow Witch. They found some letters they thought might help.”
“Good, good.” Hunter replied, interested now. “If you’d do the honour, James.”
James grinned then read out the short letter.
“’Bericht. Wir haben schließlich befindet sich die-’”
“Wait, what?” Sophie interrupted. “In English?”
James stared at her accusingly. “You don’t speak German? Shame. Things tend to lose something in meaning in translation.”
“James.” Hunter said in a quiet, warning tone. He’d had to put up with James being unnecessarily nasty to Sophie ever since she turned him down. Hunter had had enough.
“Fine.” James grunted, then translated as he read, speaking quickly in a dull voice. “’Report. We have, in the end the items. You may report with confidence that we are ready for the first attempt - everything is very promising. Herr Braun and Herr Hartmann have proved helpful in the deciphering of the information and breaking the protection around all the items. Herr Braun demands that more witches are brought in to help with the final incantation. I suggest that Hartmann lays immediately to go hunting more witches. We wait for your orders. Herr Richter.’”
“Richter? What do we know about him?” Hunter asked, the name completely unfamiliar to him.
James shrugged. “Not much, he was part of the group that researched occult powers for the Nazi party.”
“And the others mentioned, Braun and Hartmann?”
“Braun was a witch - he got caught and killed after the war. Hartmann, well, from this it sound like he was a witch-hunter.”
Hunter frowned. “A witch-hunter working alongside a witch?”
“The Second World War was a pretty big deal, Hunter, I think the lines of what was right and wrong got skewed, especially working for the Nazi party.” James responded succinctly. “But what do you think? All this magical activity and research shortly before the arrival of a Shadow Witch in Britain. Could they have found a way to raise a Shadow Witch?”
“It seems perfectly possible.” Hunter took the copy of the letter and read it for himself. If the Germans found a way to raise a Shadow, the witch could have awoken anywhere in the world; in England, alone and unprepared, relatively easy prey for the local witch-hunters…
Hunter sighed, putting the letter on his cluttered desk, he didn’t voice his thoughts.