Eighteen
It was a sad dawn. Half of the witch-hunters had been killed, the rest were sporting various degrees of injury. No one had escaped unscathed. Word filtered through of similar results across the country. The MMC was in tatters.
Astley Manor had been converted into a makeshift headquarters for the MMC. After all, it was famous for housing and protecting seven generations of witch-hunters. No one wanted to face the fact that no protection had yet stopped the Shadow Witch.
Hunter limped through the busy rooms, noting that everyone was bruised, and sporting cuts and bloody bandages. But they were alive. That’s what counted. They’d given some of the rooms over to casualties and the doctors and nurses they’d dragged in. Others had been designated as control and communication for the remaining rabble of MMC staff and witch-hunters.
Hunter was looking for someone in particular. James had come into his own over the past few hours, fielding calls, making arrangements for medical care, and keeping track of everyone.
Hunter found him as soon as he got chance to. “James, I still haven’t been able to get in touch with Sophie.”
It was true, since returning to Astley Manor that morning they had been trying to locate every witch-hunter - even 1st gens. Hunter had been trying Sophie’s mobile and her mum’s number all morning, both without success. In the present climate, and with Sophie’s recent run-in with the Shadow Witch, this was very worrying.
James checked his watch. “You’re right, there should’ve been contact by now. I’ll have a couple o’ witch-hunters up there swing by her mum’s, check it out.”
A witch-hunter came up, interrupting them. “Mr Astley, we’ve managed to track the Shadow Witch’s movements.”
Oh yes, even when James was the most competent person in the room, because it was his house and he was famously a 7th gen, everyone turned to Hunter as their general in this time of war.
“Go on then, give us the summary.”
The witch-hunter shuffled his papers nervously, obviously too dependent on coffee. “The Shadow Witch struck us, er, the UK headquarters first. Then every European and the two African divisions within the next three hours. They report similar outbreaks.
“Then when night hit America, the Shadow Witch attacked their MMC, then Canada, Mexico, each South American division.
“We’ve warned the eastern MMCs, and Australia. But what they’ll be able to do…” The witch-hunter finished, then stood there somewhat awkwardly.
“It seems impossible - one witch hitting every country in the world in 24 hours, and still being able to attack us back at the prison.” James muttered. “How though?”
“Did you never wonder how Father Christmas did it?” Hunter asked bitterly, taking out his frustration on those around him. “It’s a Shadow Witch, remember, magic without limits. I think she is very much capable of disappearing from one place and reappearing in another. And I think she can move others too - back at the prison I saw the witches retreating into a shadow and vanishing. And remember what Steve said - that the shadows grew and wrapped around when they took…” Hunter broke off, but after a deep breath continued. “That’s how she was able to get into Steve’s house, the MMC, how she took over Sophie - all those amulets, wards, protections are nothing to her. Because she can become nothing.”
When Hunter finished, his pulse raced with the excitement of the revelation. Wait, excitement, shouldn’t it be fear? But, whatever, he knew he was right, he had to be.
“But, if nowt can stop her, she could attack here.” James voiced, trying to sound calm.
“No, I don’t think so.” Hunter replied, then hesitated, glancing at the witch-hunter that still hovered with them. “At any rate, they’ll have to find us first. Can you check on the PM and royal family?”
The witch-hunter jumped was caffeine-heightened nerves. “We managed to relocate them before the witches hit London.”
Hunter frowned, the man really didn’t get the hint. “Then go help organising our forces.”
They watched the man slink off. “Well?” James asked quietly.
Hunter led off to a rare quiet spot in the house, James fell into step beside him.
“I think Astley Manor is safe.” Hunter confided in a quiet voice. “After all, Old George was linked with the last Shadow, and the Manor was never attacked, even after he eliminated her. I think the house has had more protections built in than anywhere else - the stones for instance. The fact that no witch has ever attacked the Manor.”
“And you couldn’t say this in front of t’other bloke?” James asked, completely unsure of why his friend was being so secretive.
Hunter shrugged. “There’s something going on around us that I don’t understand, and I have a feeling it’s something that’s no good. Something the MMC won’t like, even if it aids us.” Hunter shook his head, he didn’t know how to describe it. “Besides, I don’t want to raise false hope, I don’t want the witch-hunters thinking they are safe, now that they are here.”
*****
The next few hours passed in a haze of activity and breaking news - none of it good. Australia fell, despite the positioning of a small army at their MMC headquarters. Japan fell; China; Russia; India - with the witch-hunters nearly completely destroyed.
Reports came in from the battles that were still going on, with varying degrees of failure. But one thing was becoming clear, for some unknown reason, even when the witches were winning against the witch-hunters, they all pulled back like obedient troops and disappeared.
Which meant that this was only a brief calm and something worse was in store.
*****
“Astley!” A 5th gen witch-hunter called out. Hunter struggled to remember the man’s name as he walked over.
Short bloke, looked about fifty, had the same stubborn air about him as old Brian had. Anthony Marks, that was it.
“I’ve just had the Americans on the phone. They’re blaming us for the worldwide uprising of bound witches.”
“What?”
Marks grimaced. “They claim that we failed in our duty to protect the Key.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Hunter replied, angry now at their American cousins. “The key could have been anywhere in the world, in the deepest jungle, or buried in Antarctica for all we know. How can they blame us?”
“Because somehow their Council knew where it was. It was placed under heavy protection with an English member of the MMC - Mrs Charlotte King.”
“What?” Hunter’s voice came out louder than he’d meant, several people looked up at the shout. But Charlotte, his Charlotte? He couldn’t believe that she had never told him. But then, if she’d confided in him, Hunter would never have allowed her to take on the role of Key Keeper, it would make her a target for every witch - it had made her a target. The Shadow Witch, had she known and planned all this.
“Hunter.”
Hunter looked up at the witch-hunter, but it wasn’t he that had spoken. James came up behind him.
“Hunter, Sophie’s missing. I’ve just had a call from a couple of our guys. They went to her mum’s house in the Lake District, neither Sophie or Bev were there. They said there was no sign of a struggle or foul play.”
Hunter had feared that this would happen, he’d been expecting it, he realised. He was tied to the Shadow Witch, and on top of all the violence and chaos, she was systematically attacking him where it hurt most.
“Where are you going?” James demanded as Hunter marched off.
“Where do you think? I’m going up there.” Hunter replied, pulling on a coat and checking for car keys.
“Hunter, you can’t. They might be waiting for you.” James reasoned, then stopped, realising that particular argument wouldn’t stop him. “Let some other witch-hunters go up and trace them.”
Hunter looked at James ruefully. “I’m not sending anyone anywhere that I wouldn’t go first. Besides, no one can feel the traces of magic better than me.”
James grabbed his arm to stop him leaving, Hunter tried to shrug him off and got the surprise of mild James throwing him with some force back down the hall.
“Look, I know you’re a bloody hero, we all do.” James said angrily. “But it’s tough shit, because right now you’re the only man that can lead us. Sending people into difficult situations and trusting them is part of leadership. Get used to it.”
The two best friends stood facing one another in silence.
“Don’t try to compare this James.” Hunter eventually spoke. “Because I’m not going to let the Shadow take Sophie, and I’m the only one that can bring her back.”
As he said it Hunter knew that it was the truth, it wasn’t just his ego, he actually believed that he could bring her back alive.
“Nothing you can do or say will stop me, James. I’m going, and I’d prefer not to have to break your nose to get there.”
At first it seemed as though James wasn’t going to move, but then he stepped aside, grabbing his own coat.
“No, you’re not coming. It’s too dangerous, and I need someone in charge of this place.” Hunter argued immediately.
“Shut up, or we will fight. Someone’s gotta keep you out of trouble. Besides, next to the rest of the witch-hunters here, I’m a useless 1st gen. Let’s go.”