Twenty-four
Hunter felt like he’d only closed his eyes for ten minutes when he was suddenly shaken awake. His eyes snapped open and he bolted upright. Sitting on his bed was a familiar figure.
“James?” How long have I slept?”
“Um, dunno, ‘bout ten minutes.” He replied distractedly.
Hunter groaned, but pulled back his covers and started looking for his shoes. “Sophie’s here already? I had hoped we’d have more time to prepare.”
“What? No, she’s not here yet.” James replied.
“Then what…?” Hunter frowned at his friend, tempted to push him off the bed, roll over and go back to sleep. “James, you are a pain in the arse. What is this about then?”
James looked down at a book he held in his hands. When he spoke it was is a conspiring whisper. “The Benandanti. I knew I’d seen info on them in the library, so I went t’find it.”
Hunter sighed, but paid attention, his nerves sparking inside him. “Anything useful?”
“Depends.” James answered. “I’ve only flicked through, but it does describe some of their, ah, abilities. Eye witness accounts of Benandanti standing in front of witches: a feeling of a cushioning atmosphere that blocked all use of magic, forcing witches to fight by mortal means.”
Now that did sound promising, but Hunter still frowned. “If, if I’m capable of that, would it apply against a Shadow Witch - magic without limits? And does it say how it’s done?”
James paused, scanning through the marked pages. Eventually he shrugged. “No, no mention on how. You’ll have to work that out alone. As for bein’ up against a Shadow, I doubt the Benandanti ever met one.”
Hunter stared at the book unseeingly. “Do you think this is how Sophie worked it out?”
“Probably. She had open access to the Astley collection and library.” James replied honestly, sharing a portion of the guilt and shame.
“I think we can assume that, even with my questionable abilities, Sophie will be prepared. She’ll bring a small army of witches.”
James didn’t interrupt, but did wonder how Hunter could sound so sure.
“An army of witches.” Hunter repeated quietly. “And we have what, fifty witch-hunters?”
“Forty-three.” James corrected.
A pitiful number, sure to be crushed. They had personally seen thirty witches just in that house. Hunter didn’t doubt that Sophie could double or triple that within hours. Hopefully she’ll be impatient and come with only a handful of witches, rather than patiently mustering more.
“Why don’t we build our own army?” James suddenly asked.
“What, with forty-three witch-hunters? Or are you suggesting that the villagers of Little Hanting join in?”
James ignored his sarcasm. “No, I mean the actual army. They’ve gotta be on alert after the comms went down. If we get some troops here we’ll be winning on numbers.”
“James!” Hunter cut into his enthusiasm. “First of all, they aren’t witch-hunters.”
“But they are trained.” James argued.
“And numbers might not help against a Shadow.” Hunter persevered.
“But they’ll help, ‘specially if you knock out the magic.”
“And the closest base is nearly two hours away. Even if someone set off now, by the time the troops were kitted and mobilised, they couldn’t get back here for what, five hours. It could be too late.”
James shook his head, opening his book again. “Look, the Benandanti could travel in the blink of an eye. You could go tell them. Even if you can’t transport them with you, it’ll cut two hours off the time.”
“James, I am not Benandanti!” Hunter argued. Yes, things would all work out if he did have all these powers, but all he felt was bloody useless at this point.
“Just try, what’s the harm?”
The harm? He could be accused of witchcraft and cast out by the witch-hunters when they needed him most.
“Even if I can, it might not be soon enough. What if she attacks while I’m away?”
“Then you will survive to fight again and find a way to destroy the Shadow Witch.” James answered seriously. “Hunter, try, you’re our only hope.”
“I don’t know how.” Hunter continued to argue.
“Concentrate, I guess.” James said encouragingly. “Ah, if it works, I’ll keep an eye on the others. I think its best that they don’t know ‘bout this til necessary.”
Hunter stood up and instinctively closed his eyes. Feeling rather stupid he twisted his mind, trying to feel something, tingly, or warm and smothered like the Shadow.
“This is never going to work.” He muttered, opening his eyes.
“Just keep concentrating.” James suggested. “Picture yourself on base.”
Hunter took a deep breath and closed his eyes again. He remembered visiting the base when he’d first joined the MMC, he’d been to see the general, an open-minded, trustworthy man who’d been made aware of the witch threat and occasionally passed on witch-sightings and helped with some of the cover-ups.
Hunter could see clearly the general’s office, with the desk and walls decorated with photos and certificates. It all seemed out of reach.
“I feel stupid.” He muttered.
There was a faint click and a man’s voice came from behind him.
“Raise your hands and turn slowly to face me.”
Hunter’s eyes flew open, instead of his navy bedroom there were cream walls. He lifted his hands and span quickly to see the familiar office.
There was the crack of a pistol as the man fired at his hasty movements. Hunter’s eyes widened with fear and his heart leapt… but nothing hit him. He looked down, confused. A shining bullet hovered just inches from his chest. Stopped dead.
“Huh. That’s useful.” Hunter reached out to touch it. His finger brushed the metal, before he swore and snapped his hand back from the heat. Hunter frowned and stared at the little thing, then it dropped onto the floor.
Hunter looked up. There was a shocked middle-aged man standing behind a desk, holding a gun with impressive steadiness. It had been a few years, but he was still recognisable.
“General Hayworth.” Hunter stepped towards him, hesitating as he realised that he was barefoot. Bother, next time he’d have to remember to be fully dressed before attempting transporting himself.
“Sir, my name’s Hunter Astley, from the Malleus Maleficarum Council. We met a few years ago.”
“Astley? Astley, yes I remember.” The general glanced down at his bare feet with a frown. “We thought only witches appeared out of nowhere.”
The general half-shrugged and lowered his gun, obviously thinking he’d given enough explanation for having fired at the sudden appearance of a person in his office.
“It’s a long story.” Hunter admitted. “But I don’t have time to explain everything. We need your help. We know where the Shadow Witch will strike next, we just need an army to face her.”
The door of the office suddenly opened and a younger man burst in. He stopped, staring at the General and witch-hunter. “General, I, ah, heard a gunshot.”
“It’s nothing, Dawkins, return to your post.” General Hayworth replied calmly.
The young man, obedient but confused, backed out of the office, closing the door behind him.
“Sit down, Astley.” The general said, motioning to a chair in front of his desk. “As I was saying to Marks before the phones went down, the army doesn’t take orders from your MMC. In times of chaos we have to follow the proper channels, but-”
“But we don’t have time to follow the proper channels.” Hunter interrupted with frustration. “The Shadow Witch could attack at any time.”
“Will you let me finish, Mr Astley?” The General said patiently. “But, I understand that things have changed. Those that wrote the rules could not have predicted this. I also understand that the MMC may well know best. Yet my men are not trained to fight witches.”
“You can’t choose your enemies.” Hunter reasoned.
“No, but we are better defending than fighting.” The general mused. “Your Council does know best, I suppose. We will rally to your aid.”
General Hayworth walked over to the door and opened it. “Sergeant!”
Dawkins reappeared obediently. “Yes General?”
“I want the men armed and ready to leave in thirty minutes. Then return here.”
Dawkins blinked with surprise. “Yes General.”
The sergeant disappeared down the corridor to pass on the order.
“Thank you, General.” Hunter said as the general closed the door and returned to his seat.
“Don’t thank me yet.” He replied. “You have half an hour to explain this to me.”