Fifteen
The next few days were a blur. There were the inevitable visits by the MMC. They questioned Hunter and James over and over about Hallowe’en. Poor Sophie had been grilled by several ‘experts’, trying to understand the Shadow Witch; whether Sophie was in danger; even whether Sophie was dangerous.
The Council had finally been scared into action, pulling people off mundane tasks and setting them to research and defence. When they came to Astley Manor with a long list of work for the resident witch-hunters, Hunter set his mother on them; they got the hint and didn’t come back.
Hunter wasn’t ready to face the world and didn’t have the energy to survive it. He would happily have disappeared into nothingness. Only his new closeness to Sophie made him want to live.
Then one morning Hunter, Sophie and James finally left the Manor, all three dressed in black. It was a cold November day, with the first proper frosts of the year. Hunter felt Sophie shiver and he held her closer as they all stood in the graveyard, a silent crowd gathered, their breath fogging over the prayers.
It wasn’t that long ago that they’d all been standing over another funeral, when Brian’s death had seemed the worst thing to ever happen.
The crowd slowly departed, people stopping to say their own goodbyes, and to console the inconsolable widower. Hunter looked up. Steve stood by the graveside, his tall, thin figure swamped by the heavy black coat, his eyes so red from crying.
“Steve, I’m so sorry.” Hunter said, finding himself walking up to Charlotte’s husband.
Whack! Hunter recoiled in shock as timid Steve punched him squarely in the face. Through watering eyes, Hunter saw Steve rub his sore knuckles.
“You have no right to be here Hunter!” Steve shouted, ignorant of the other mourners that turned and stared. “It’s all your fault - you got her into witch-hunting, you were supposed to protect her. Leave. If I ever see you again, I swear I’ll kill you.”
Hunter was dragged away by both Sophie and James. He shouldn’t have expected anything else from Steve. But now that Charlotte was laid to rest, Hunter was ready to get back in the action. Everything would work out, it had to, especially when he had James and Sophie still with him.
*****
That night, Hunter found the concept of sleep impossible, even with the comforting warmth of Sophie beside him. He watched her sleep with a quiet fascination. She seemed so peaceful, until the early hours of the morning, when the rhythm if sleep became disturbed. A pained expression crumpled her face and she struggled against the bedclothes.
Suddenly, Sophie jolted awake with a strangled cry, sitting up in bed now, her body tense and trembling.
“Sophie, Sophie, it’s alright.” Hunter murmured gently to her, his hand placed against her flushed cheek. “Did you have a nightmare?”
Sophie, eyes wide with panic, her gaze roving over him in slow understanding as she tried to shake off the images. “Just a dream.” She muttered, forcing herself to be calm. “Just a dream.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Hunter asked.
“No.” Sophie replied shortly, lying back down.
Hunter sighed. “It might help.” He insisted. Yes, it might help him pass the hours until dawn, when he no longer had to pretend to need rest and bed.
Sophie looked at him in assessment. “It was nothing, it…” She broke off, unable to shake the possessing dream. “Fine, the truth. We were at the graveyard, like today, and the Shadow Witch was waiting at the gate. She was wearing Death’s garb and called to you. I begged you not to go, but you walked through the gate with your head high and your stupid pride. Then, knowing that you were dead, and I alive - in the dream I was distraught, I… I…”
Sophie stopped, struggling to find words to express her feelings. “It was a physical, inescapable pain. And I hated you for making me grieve your death.”
Hunter remained quiet for a while, taking in this open answer. “It was just a dream. Probably set off by the funeral today.”
Sophie frowned, forever fighting with herself, and building up the courage to say what was on her mind. “I don’t want you to fight the Shadow Witch.”
“What?” Hunter laughed, surprised by this sudden, ludicrous request.
“You don’t have to go up against her. There are a hundred other witch-hunters that can face her.” Sophie argued, in a quiet voice that was already defeated.
“Sophie, don’t be ridiculous. How can I turn my back on the biggest threat of our time? I’m one of the best witch-hunters out there, if I don’t stop her, who will?” Hunter argued back, logically.
“But if you face her you will be killed.”
Hunter hesitated in his response, feeling a faint wave of foreboding. He shrugged it off. “That was nothing but your dream, Sophie. I may actually survive this thing, trust me.”
Sophie propped herself up on her elbow in a sharp movement, her whole body emanating anger. “No, it’s not just my dream, Hunter. Why don’t you listen to me? I’ve seen inside the mind of the Shadow Witch, I’ve seen how she wants your death above all others, how she’s imagined it a hundred different ways. She is your Death and you march proudly and stubbornly towards it.”
Hunter was temporarily silenced by this revelation. “You never said -”
“It never seemed important.” Sophie bit back. “But does it make you reconsider?”
“No.” Hunter replied quickly.
Sophie hissed in disgust and rolled away from him. She lay still for so long that Hunter began to think that she’d fallen back to sleep.
“You awake, Sophie?” He eventually whispered.
“Yes.” She snapped, remaining stubbornly turned away from him.
“Sophie, this is who I am. I cannot turn away from this fight, it’s against my nature.” Hunter said seriously. He reached out and stroked her back gently, frowning as she flinched away from him. “You wouldn’t love me if I were any different.”
The scene seemed to freeze. Neither of them had mentioned the ‘L’ word, nor even allowed themselves to think it in their most private thoughts.
“You’re right.” Sophie replied, finally turning to face him. “How I wish you were any other man right now, one not cursed by the Shadow Witch. If you should die, it would cut me down also.”
Sophie reached out, her hand tracing his face, committing his features to memory. “Promise me you won’t die.”
Hunter smiled, then pulled her close to him, lips brushing her hair. “How I wish I could promise that.”
Held close in Hunter’s arms, Sophie slowly fell back to sleep, gentle and dreamless. Hunter sighed, the same foreboding reawakening in him, that all this was a temporary happiness.
“I am afeard. Being in night, all this is but a dream, too flattering-sweet to be substantial.” He muttered to himself, unable to smile at the fitting words. Ah, was all this a premonition of the end, rushing up to greet them.
*****
Sophie dragged her bag down the wide main staircase, she hated getting Charles to carry her stuff when she could do it herself.
Hunter glanced out the window, checking for her taxi. “You’re sure about this? The MMC can send someone.”
Sophie dropped her bag by the front door. They’d already been over this. “I know, but I need to do this. If the Shadow Witch goes after our families, I want to be the one to protect my mum.”
They had no idea where the witches would hit next, and it was logical that anyone connected to Hunter and Sophie were in danger and should be protected.
“I could come up with you.” Hunter said, pulling her close.
“You have enough to do here.” Sophie argued, pushing him away.
Hunter turned to pick up a small wooden case, about the size of a shoebox. He pressed it into Sophie’s hands. “Now, the protective amulets will work best in the furthest four-”
“Corners of the house, and as many doorways and windows as they’ll cover.” Sophie finished impatiently, taking the heavy box. “James has already drilled me on this.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” Hunter apologised. Suddenly interrupted by the sharp blast of a car horn outside. Well, here as her taxi, come to take her to the station. “I’ll miss you.” He said seriously.
“Good.” Sophie replied, finally deigning to smile and kiss him lightly before lugging her stuff to the waiting car. She opened the door then stopped, turning to look at Hunter with those fierce eyes. She hesitated, as though she wanted to say something, but in the end just frowned and got into the car.
Hunter watched as the taxi pulled away down the gravelled courtyard and then off down the long drive. Sophie was right, there was work to do, and she had been trained well over the past six months, she’d be ok.
James was waiting in the library, and it was easy to see he was annoyed. Hunter couldn’t blame him, it must have been awkward working around Hunter and Sophie lately.
“She gone?” James asked gruffly.
“Yes. Anything to report?”
“Nothing new.” James sighed, “All authoritative figures in Britain are under MMC security, America and Europe are following suit. Russia’s still not on board.”
James handed Hunter some papers. “As for our own work, a name popped up. Sara Murray, she was the 1940s Shadow Witch. Born 1916 in North England, died 1945. No known descendants. Sorry it’s nothing useful.”
Hunter flicked through the papers, taking in only a few words. What was the point? So far, being better informed had not helped them against the witches. What was the Shadow Witch waiting for?
“Never mind.” Hunter muttered. “When are we next on duty?”
“Thursday. We’re on rota along with John Ward for seven days on Downing Street.” James replied.
“Right.” That was better, being out there, even if they weren’t prepared. “But James, this time no swearing at every politician you meet.”