Twenty
They walked silently along a well-lit corridor. With the thick carpet beneath their feet and passing expensive cabinets and paintings it looked like they’d been brought to a very posh house, maybe even a manor. Hunter didn’t know what to make of it, but he could hardly blame the Shadow Witch for wanting a luxurious set-up.
The lead witch opened a set of double doors, looking back at the prisoners with a poisonous smile.
They were taken into a large room. Black curtains were pulled across the large windows, the room lit with an ostentatious chandelier. There were long tables arranged in a horseshoe. Sitting around the table were at least twenty witches, looking very much like a civilised council - which was probably down to the suits that the majority were wearing, although the burn marks were not common in most boardrooms. All heads turned at the entrance of the witch-hunters.
Hunter could almost see the magical aura that bristled threateningly, at the same time he read the victorious feeling in their shining faces and quickened breath.
“Ladies and gentlemen. George Astley VII, as promised.” A quiet female voice spoke, barely above a whisper.
Hunter looked at the speaker, sitting in a position of authority at the top table. She was the only one to wear a cloak, the dark material oddly mobile about her tall figure, the heavy hood filled with impenetrable shadow. Finally they were face to face with the infamous Shadow Witch.
Hunter gritted his teeth against the whole irritating stereotype of the situation.
“But you are not supposed to be here.” The Shadow Witch said softly, raising a pale hand to indicate James.
“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that.” Replied James daringly.
The whole room scowled at him, but let him be. They waited to follow the lead of the Shadow Witch.
“You wanted me, you got me.” Hunter spoke up, “Now, I will only ask once. Give Sophie back to me.”
The Shadow Witch stood up suddenly, and every eye was on her. “She is already here.”
The Shadow reached up, and slowly slid the hood back, the dark shadow thinning to reveal the haughty beauty of Sophie Murphy.
Hunter felt a physical blow at this revelation and he heard James gasp behind him.
“Release her.” Hunter breathed, his voice barely audible.
The Shadow Witch gently shook her head, “Not this time, Astley.”
Hunter dared to look her directly in the eye. Her eyes… they were not clouded like the last time, instead they shone with familiar gold-flecked hazel depths.
The Shadow Witch smiled, “It’s all over. The witchkind have won, the hunters are destroyed. There is no longer a need for disguise. So look, Astley, on the face that brought your downfall and curse your every mistake.”
“No, you’re lying.” Hunter stood, heart pounding. It was all a trick, the Shadow Witch must have something yet to gain by possessing Sophie again.
There was a titter of laughter and scornful muttering broke out amongst the present witches. They were silenced with a single motion from the Shadow Witch.
“Why do I need to lie, Astley?” She asked innocently, “I have achieved my every desire. I have returned my fellow witches to their former glory. In fact, you join us on the night of our greatest achievement yet, perhaps you noticed a little power loss.”
Neither witch-hunter responded, but the Shadow Witch didn’t seem to expect an answer and continued.
“Yes, you can thank the Americans. Their MMC has been experimenting - unwisely, I might add - with magic stolen from witches. They managed to create a weapon that we would never have dreamt of. Used in a specific way, it could be directed to permanently disrupt every piece of technology, and with a little magical aid from me, it worked on a global scale.”
Hunter thought back to the blackout, how he’d perceived something magical, yet distant and untouchable.
“Er, you expect us to believe that? ‘Cos unless I’m mistaken this place is blazing with electric lights.” James said suddenly, looking up at the gaudy chandelier.
The surrounding witches bristled at this, but the Shadow Witch just looked at him curiously.
A wave of power swept the room, blasting James off his feet and dashing him against the wall. He hit it with a sickening thud and slid to the floor. Hunter went to move, but strong hands held him in place.
“He doesn’t learn, does he?” The Shadow Witch said coldly. “Tell him when he regains consciousness that there are more than enough witches here to light a few bulbs.”
“Why - why destroy technology?” Hunter asked, struggling not to react.
“Because the Witches Council wished it so.” The Shadow Witch replied willingly, looking at the faces of her associates. “The witches of today possess as much magic as they ever did. So why do we no longer inspire fear and worship, why are we ridiculed and cast aside as myth and fantasy? Because of the ‘general ignorant public’ as you so perfectly put it once. They are all so clever, so all-knowing, swallowing every story the MMC gives them.
“We have tried for generations to gain power politically, by mortal means. Yet witch-hunters persecuted all witchkind. So our new aim was to take the world all in one go.
“Imagine the fear and chaos when suddenly the world was plunged into darkness. There was no communication, suddenly no answers. It is in this chasm of disorder that those blessed with magic can step into their rightful roles above the ignorant and powerless masses.”
There was a general cheer and a spatter of applause as the Shadow Witch finished speaking, the group of witches high on their recent victory.
“You’re mad.” Hunter muttered.
The Shadow Witch looked at him with an achingly familiar coldness. “Mad or not, we have won Astley.”
“So what, you brought me here to do the clichéd gloat before killing me? Or do I get the option of watching you destroy everything first.”
“I destroy only to create the world how it was meant to be. God Himself would do the same, if he existed.” The Shadow Witch replied with cool logic, then half-smiled. “You have no idea how good it is to say all this openly after months of pretence and hiding around you.”
She broke off, suddenly seeming to notice the rest of the room, hanging on her every word. “Take them away, I shall see them tomorrow.”
She sat down and the two witch-hunters’ audience was over. Hunter was shoved out of the room, while the unconscious James was carried by two male witches.
And it was back to the dull, empty room.
Hunter had been pacing the room for a while, when James finally groaned and opened his eyes.
“Wha’ ‘appened?” He asked groggily.
“The Shadow Witch threw you against a wall. How many fingers do you see?” Hunter peered at him carefully.
“Three.”
“Close enough.” Hunter helped him sit up, he back against the wall.
“Next time, remind me to stay quiet around her.” James said, gingerly rubbing the back of his head. “Oh, they took off the handcuffs, that’s nice.”
Hunter sighed and sat down next to him.
“How bad is it?” James asked.
“Bad.” Hunter admitted, thinking it an understatement.
“What are the witches planning to do?”
“Take over the world.”
“Oh, that is bad. Did the Shadow Witch give a bad guy speech?”
“Oh yes, very impressive and clichéd - shame you missed it.”
The two friends fell silent. It was James that spoke first, and this time he was much more serious.
“What about Sophie? You don’t really think that she is the Shadow Witch - surely she’s just possessing her again.”
Hunter sat, looking quietly into space. The Shadow Witch was an evil entity. He wanted so much to believe that she was tricking them, that perhaps she needed to possess someone as the only way of taking physical form. That would mean that Sophie, his Sophie, was innocent and had loved him.
But there had been something about the witch, the clarity of her eyes and something else that made cold dread stab deep into his soul.
“I don’t know, I honestly don’t know.” Hunter finally replied.