A heavy pat on the shoulder brought him back to the present, and Hunter turned to see James looking back at him with a similar pain in his usually light brown eyes.
“It’s really quiet. Where is everyone?” Alannah asked, looking around uneasily.
“We blinked…” Dawkins gasped out, trying not to retch. “They’ll arrive… in a few… hours.”
Ian smirked at the sight of General Hayworth’s right-hand man so disabled. “Maria and I will make a perimeter check. We’ll be back in half an hour.” Ian stated, volunteering for the walk. Well, it was better than huddling in the rubble of some building while they waited.
*****
The survivors came slowly, in dribs and drabs. Many had emergency vehicles and used precious fuel to escape the city, and they brought as many as they could with them.
Ian and Maria had found a disused theatre that might be big enough to house them for the night. With the help of James and Alannah, and the locals who awoke to all the noise, food and spare blankets were acquired; and a section of the theatre was cordoned off for first aid.
Hunter had managed to round up Oxford’s promising medical students. Despite the witch revolution, they were all here to learn, and still socialised in the same places they had when Hunter had gone to university here. The young meds had come willingly to the theatre, that was now full of people; soldiers, witch-hunters, and helpful locals.
Once the first mad rush of caring for the wounded, and organising the able-bodied had passed, Hunter stepped back to observe the place. Despite the injured, it was warming to see how his old town of Oxford rallied to help them. That was something the witches would never understand, would never overcome in their drive to control all – the average person could step up and do things they would never account for.
*****
Hunter tried to get a few hours’ sleep, then the next day he worked alongside Sergeant Dawkins to organise the troops. They would send those willing back to London, to be their eyes and ears, to make sure the people they left behind were not treated too harshly.
To the rest, they offered a chance to leave, to go home to safety. Or to go on with them to Manchester, to face the next fight with the witches. Hunter was heartened that nearly every man and woman immediately signed up to travel North.
Leaving Dawkins with the wiccan stones in case of emergency, Hunter took his team back to Manchester that very afternoon, to report to the General all that had occurred.
Eighteen
The notion that Manchester was the next target of the witches became a firm fact. For the past couple of weeks, ever since London had been hit on Hallowe’en, their wiccan spies had been running back with information. It was the first time all details pointed in one direction.
But this time, they were ready for them.
Nadira and General Hayworth had divided their forces into groups, bolstered by the volunteers from the city. Hunter looked over his group, noting how soldiers now outnumbered witch-hunters, after they had been targeted so fiercely by the witches. Both were outnumbered by the citizens of Manchester and the surrounding area – it was cheering to see so many step up to defend their city, their home.
Hunter was glad to see the familiar faces of his team in the sea of strangers. They sat together, outwardly looking calm and ready, a highly skilled team that was comforting to the rest that were new to battle. But Hunter knew them well enough now to see the nervous tells. James was twisting the gold ring on his right hand that blocked minor spells; Alannah sat polishing an already gleaming knife; Maria fiddled with the zips on her stab vest and jacket; and Ian – well, Hunter had yet to work out what nervous tick that man had, he was constantly calm and in control.
Hunter drifted back to his friends, causing them to look up.
“You sure about…” Alannah started. She coughed, and lowered her voice. “You sure about your plan?”
“Course he is.” James interrupted, then glanced at Hunter. “Aren’t you?”
“Already told you James, if you don’t feel confident, you can stay here and keep charge of the others.” Hunter replied, repeating an earlier suggestion. “The four of us can handle it.”
James snorted. “Yeah right, as if I’ve ever hesitated in following you into madness.”
Hunter just smiled in response, not sure James should be describing his leadership skills and plans as ‘madness’. At least, not in public.
Hunter was saved from trying to come up with a suitably intelligent reply by the sudden headache that accompanied magic and spells being cast. It was immense, almost over-whelming, and Hunter took a moment to tune it out enough to concentrate. He could see Alannah making the same mental struggle, as the other three just looked on expectantly.
“They’re here.” Hunter murmured. The witches had come. They were about a mile to the south, if his senses were correct.
Hunter was distracted by a sharp pain in his side. He pulled the wiccan stone out of his pocket, watching as the lump of quartz flashed hot, then faded back to its normal smoky colour. He held it up for the others to see, as proof that their allies were engaging.
“It’s time.”
Hunter turned to the masses, and shouted for attention. The chatter and general noise immediately died down, and everyone looked to him.
He took a deep breath, realising they were expecting some sort of glorious, heroic speech – because wasn’t that what he was to these people, a hero they had heard could do miracles and lead them to victory?
But Hunter’s throat closed up at the very thought.
“Let’s move out.” He shouted in a strangled voice.
There was a snicker besides him.
“Oh aye, very inspiring, Hunter.” James didn’t even try to hide his amusement as he watched his friend struggle over something so simple. “I hope that speech doesn’t go down in history – really shite final words.”
Hunter was tempted to retaliate, but he remembered his audience. They probably wouldn’t like to see the man they were trusting with their lives, beating a friend.
So Hunter turned and nodded to the rest of his team.
The hundred or so men and women picked up their arms and followed Hunter to the south, where magic was bristling so strongly, Hunter was surprised the 1st gens couldn’t feel it.
There was a blast of light to one side as they approached, followed by the screams of the spell’s victims. The ground shook with the strength of magic that ran across it, and the wind picked up, whipping through the forms and fields that had become the site of battle.
As they approached within sight of the witches, Hunter saw the illusions of monsters that were hastily thrown up to gain the witches time to bring out harder spells. Fire burst out on their left flank, as salamanders and fire-wrought creatures moved into existence.
Hunter threw up his shield, the illusions of monsters faded to nothing. The fire wavered, but having enough dry fuel to sustain it, it spread on.
The witches hesitated, seeing their spells falter, and knowing that the infamous Hunter Astley must be behind it. Hunter took advantage of the moment and led his fighters on, forcing the witches in close combat that served knives and guns better than magic.
Hunter cut a swathe through his opponents. His anger spurred him on, with each thrust of his knife, broken neck, or shot to the heart, he was avenging Anthony Marks, and countless other witch-hunters and innocents that had been caught in this rebellion. He did not spare a thought for the blood that coated his hands and arms, he ignored the cuts and wounds he gained as adrenaline surged through his body. But he was aware that he had pushed further than anyone else, and started to back up, enemies on all sides able to pick him out.
There was a gunshot, close enough that Hunter could hear it over the fray, and one of the witches before him crumpled to the ground.
A pat on his shoulder made Hunter start, but he turned to see James and Maria moving up to join him, Maria turning her gun to her next victim.
There was a
wave of magic so strong, Hunter was nearly knocked over. By the time he regained his balance, he recognised the swirling clouds overhead, and felt the now-familiar rhythm of Sophie’s magic. The wind picked up, and Hunter swore.
“Maria!” James’ voice cut through the noise.
Hunter turned to see Maria unmoving on the ground, and James dispatching the witch that had managed to take down their best gunman.
Hunter felt a renewed strike of magic against his shield, but he pushed it back with a mental shove, then knelt by Maria.
James was already searching for signs of life with shaking hands. He then gave a sigh, his shoulders drooping. “She’s got a pulse.”
James closed his eyes and muttered something to himself. If Hunter didn’t know him better, he would have sworn it was a prayer of thanks.
Hunter was distracted by something sharp cutting into the back of his exposed neck. He looked up to see wind-driven ice starting weakly, but gaining momentum. Cries of pain went up around him as his allies were forced to stagger back. The witches seemed immune from the sharp fragments, or at least were not the intended victims.
“Hunter, we need to move.” Ian barked as he ran up, Alannah on his heels.
“Maria?” Alannah’s green eyes were filled with fresh worry above a blood-stained cheek.
“She’s alive, she’ll be fine.” Hunter replied quickly, determined to keep positive.
James huddled over Maria, protecting her from the cutting ice. “Hunter, I can’t… I need to…”
Hunter put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I understand. Get her to safety. We’ll go ahead.”
James nodded and swallowed hard. He scooped up Maria, who stayed lifeless in his arms. “Good luck.” He said to the others, then began to jog in the direction of their backline.
Nineteen
Hunter stayed just long enough to watch James get to a safe distance. He was surprised to feel let down, this had been the first time that James had chosen not to be at his side to face life-threatening danger. Hunter grimaced at his own thoughts – James was not a coward, far from it. But personally insisting that he take care of Maria… he must care for her more than Hunter had guessed.
“So what now?” Alannah asked.
Hunter glanced from Alannah to Ian, they both awaited his next orders.
“We carry on as planned.” He answered with a shrug.
There was a flicker of fear from Alannah, but Ian just nodded.
“Right, let’s go.” The sergeant simply said, then started in the opposite direction James had taken – further into danger, instead of away from it.
Hunter hurried after him, then moved into the lead. Despite the fact that Hunter’s senses were nearly over-whelmed by the volume of magic and casting witches, Sophie’s magic rang out as a clear chord of power. With an unsettling ease, Hunter followed it towards the source.
He didn’t trust himself to blink them safely to her location, so they had to take the mundane route. As they fought their way through loose groups of witches, they came more heavily under attack. Hunter doubled the shield around the three of them, reluctantly letting his shield fade from the other fighters. He couldn’t possibly maintain both.
In a thick bubble of anti-magic, the trio pushed forward. Hunter was glad to have his two best fighters with his, as Ian floored a witch, and Alannah made sure he didn’t get up again.
Hunter could feel Sophie’s presence getting closer, and finally spotted her. Her witches had pulled back, as though even they could not stand to get close to her magic. Her long brown hair was half-falling out of a plait and she was dressed for combat, with the stab vest that Hunter had given her on top of a short, dark jacket and jeans.
Everything was muted, and everyone seemed to clear the space between Hunter and the Shadow Witch. A hundred yards apart, Hunter’s pulse raced with anticipation – it would all be over now.
Sophie stopped mid-spell and faced the witch-hunter. Without her support, the clouds and the wind settled and the ice eased off.
Taking a deep breath, Hunter started to move cautiously forward, Ian and Alannah flanking him. He was aware of the eyes that turned their way.
Hunter felt Sophie’s magic curling and preparing for release. Within a heartbeat, his own power reacted with it. A visible dome of energy crackled over them, and Hunter could only stare at it in wonder. Was this him?
“Astley!” Sophie snarled. “Don’t do this.”
Ah, she was pissed off, so it had to be his doing.
“I can’t stop it. Even if I wanted to, I would not.” Hunter replied. “Your witches are on their own, now.”
Her witches were powerful, but without the aid of their Shadow, Hunter hoped they could be overcome.
Sophie’s lip curled as she wildly looked around her for a point of weakness. Finding none, she suddenly became calm. She took a few steps forward, her movements achingly familiar.
“So… what’s the plan now, Hunter? Kill the big bad witch while she’s defenceless?” Sophie asked with a sigh, knowing how her lover saw her now.
“It has to happen, Sophie.” Hunter replied. “It’s the only way to stop them.”
Sophie gave a bitter laugh. “Oh, that you believe that! I miss your optimism, Hunter. So… will you kill me?”
Hunter fought to keep his expression neutral. “Me, or others.”
There was a flash of metal, as one of Alannah’s throwing knives whipped across the distance. Ian pulled out his gun and fired off half a dozen rounds.
Sophie raised both hands, and the bullets slowed and stopped in an invisible barrier. She looked surprised at the block, but her expression turned to pain, as the knife sank into her upper chest. Alannah, by mistake or design, hitting the weak point of her armour, near the neck.
Hunter steeled himself, as Sophie’s scream rent the air, and she dropped to her knees.
Sophie flicked her long brown hair out of the way, as it sought to escape, and her furious eyes focused on Alannah. “You little bitch!”
Sophie took a deep breath and grabbed the knife, wrenching it out with another scream. She gasped, and wiped a hand over the wound, where the blood flow was already ceasing and healing.
“Do you really think you can kill me?” Sophie spat, then turned the knife in her hand and threw it with all her strength at the shell-shocked Alannah.
Alannah’s eyes widened as she witnessed her own knife being used against her. There was the sudden movement of a huge bulk, who stepped in the way, and grunted as the knife embedded itself in his back.
Ian gripped Alannah tightly by the arms, and gave a reassuring smile, before he slumped.
Hunter’s breathing increased, his pulse speeding. His window of opportunity was closing up and everything was going wrong.
Sophie smiled, and waved a blood-stained hand. “Bye.”
Without thinking, Hunter charged towards her. Already her image was fading to the grey of shadows, but Hunter reached out desperately. He felt that familiar soft, warm nothingness, followed by the cold wind and hard ground beneath his feet.
Gasping, Hunter got his bearings. There was light and noise, and deafening magic a mile or so to his right. And directly in front of him was Sophie.
“You shouldn’t have come.” She said softly, pity in her usually cold eyes.
Hunter shrugged. “You didn’t give me much choice.”
He slowly removed a long knife from his belt, and watched as Sophie silently did the same. With an unspoken signal, they started to circle, each watching for weak spots in the other. Then they attacked.
Hunter was surprised at Sophie’s speed, but didn’t have time to marvel, as he followed up his attack with deflections and taking a step back that only intensified Sophie’s attack.
But Hunter wasn’t the best in the MMC for nothing, and caught a lapse in her guard and forced her to retreat in turn.
They both backed off to catch their breath, and Sophie took a moment to wipe blood from a new cut on her arm.
>
“You’ve remembered all your training.” Hunter remarked.
Sophie bit back a smile. “I had a good teacher.”
They came to again, the strike and parry patterns getting longer and more intricate.
“You were holding back on me before.” Hunter gasped.
“So were you.” Sophie countered, her hazel eyes flashing.
Sophie fainted to the left, then tackled him from the right, so that they both lost balance and fell to the floor.
Hunter felt the breath knocked out of him, and suddenly found himself on his back, Sophie straddling his legs to pin them down.
“Well now.” She murmured, looking down at Hunter, her gaze warming. “Join me, please Hunter. Together we can set this world straight.”
“After you destroyed it?” Hunter snapped back, bringing up his knife in a half-hearted effort.
Sophie easily caught his wrist, and pressed it to his chest. “No, after I destroyed the only reality you knew. Don’t mistake comfort and familiarity for something right. Please Hunter, don’t you want to be in a world free from all the wrongs you knew were in your Council? Don’t you want a world where you could be with me? With your son?”
Hunter stilled at the mention of his son. Where was he now? At home with his grandmother, while his mother went on her killing spree?
“Not at this price.” Hunter replied quietly.
Hunter gathered himself, and threw Sophie from him, he scrambled to his feet and glared at her. Hunter pulled out his gun and pointed it at Sophie’s chest for a moment, before reluctantly letting it drop.
“You saved me at Astley Manor, didn’t you?” Hunter asked. When Sophie made no effort to reply, he sighed. “Consider this a life for a life. Get out of here, Sophie. Take Adam and get away from this fight. If our paths cross again, I will kill you.”
Sophie stood, the colour draining from her face. She took a moment to weigh her options, then turned away from Hunter. The shadows thickened about her, and tendril-like wrapped around her form and claimed her. Then she was gone.
Hunter let loose a shaky breath. He really hoped he’d done the right thing. With a quick glance at his surroundings, he blinked back to his friends.
The Shadow Reigns (Witch-Hunter #2) Page 9
