Awethology Light

by The Awethors

K S Marsden

  Copyright 2015 K S Marsden

  All Rights Reserved

  Kristen - Witch Hunter

  One

  The finish line was coming into view, and she kept running. Kristen’s feet pounded along the all-weather track, and her breathing was as steady now as the last eight-hundred meters. She felt that she could sprint the remaining distance without too much effort, but her coach had drilled her on pacing. Pacing, pacing, pacing—the word echoed with her every stride.

  Kristen loved running; it was the only time that she could switch off from all other stress and focus on the purely physical task.

  There was a scattered cheer from the other gathered athletes as Kristen crossed the line. On training days like today, they all tried to support each other.

  She walked until her pulse returned to normal, glancing over her shoulder to watch the next runner come in, red-faced, a gap of thirty second between them. The girl shot Kristen a dirty look, before starting her own cooldown.

  “Well done, Kristen,” Coach Radcliffe called out as she walked over. “I do believe you’re even faster than last year.”

  “Thanks, Coach.” Kristen grinned, grabbing her water bottle and bag.

  “You’ll be a shoo-in for County. And I know it’s early, but I could see you on the Olympic team.”

  Kristen paused to take it in. “Thanks, Coach!” she repeated, before bouncing away to her friends.

  “Kristen, that was awesome!” her best friend Hazel piped up. “All that training we did over the summer paid off.”

  Kristen felt an arm wrap around her waist.

  “I should hope so—you didn’t have any time left for me.” A handsome face and two big, gentle brown eyes gazed down at her.

  Kristen twisted and pushed her ex-boyfriend away.

  “What? I’m not allowed to congratulate you now?”

  “C’mon, Chris, you know this is an important year for me,” Kristen said, rolling her eyes.

  “We’re all seniors this year, Kristen,” Chris reasoned. “Everyone else seems to have time for a social life. For dates.”

  “I’m not everyone else,” Kristen smirked.

  “Don’t I know it,” muttered Chris, crossing his arms. Thanks to his football training, his muscles were defined, even beneath his loose jersey. “You’re still coming to the party tonight?”

  Kristen rolled her eyes at the reminder of the adolescent ritual of the school’s Halloween party. It was a holiday that her family had never celebrated. Dr. Davies refused to let her daughter out of the house or partake in anything remotely halloweeny. And her husband never argued for his stepdaughter to do what many considered normal.

  This year was going to be different. Kristen was old enough to have a say in what she did. It also helped that Hazel had been bullying her for the past few weeks until Kristen conceded and even bought an outfit. And it had been Hazel’s continued bullying that meant Kristen really, really had to go tonight.

  “Yes, she’s going,” Hazel piped up, grabbing Kristen’s arm. “I’m picking you up at seven.”

  “See you tonight, Chris,” Kristen said, pulling Hazel away to the field gates.

  Hazel twisted to look over her shoulder, and sighed. “Remind me again why you two aren’t together anymore?”

  Kristen refused to say anything but pinched Hazel’s arm.

  “Hey! Come on, you were Kris and Chris; everyone wanted to be you,” Hazel continued, rubbing her sore arm.

  Kristen sighed. “I’m not the same person. I couldn’t remember any of the reasons we were together…”

  Two

  The townhouse was quiet when Kristen arrived home. Clearly her stepfather wasn’t home, and her mother was still sleeping after a late shift. Kristen liked these moments when she could be completely detached from the mad world.

  She showered and was finishing drying her long, blonde hair into natural curls when her mom came in. The sight of her messy, blonde bed-hair and pale pink dressing gown was very familiar to Kristen. The only thing missing was a steaming mug of coffee.

  “You look nice, sweetie,” her mom said with a yawn. “What’s the occasion?”

  “There’s a school party tonight,” Kristen replied drily, tightening her own bathrobe and reaching for her makeup bag.

  Her mom frowned, looking very confused. “On a Monday night?”

  “It’s Saturday, Mom,” Kristen said, rolling her eyes. “Go get your coffee, and we’ll talk.”

  Kristen knew that is was useless trying to get any sense out of Dr. Davies before her caffeine fix. Especially, after a night shift at the emergency room.

  Annoyingly, even when she first rolled out of bed, her mom was beautiful. On days like this, when Kristen put in the effort, she was able to take after her. Her grandparents always said that Kristen was the image of her mom as a teenager.

  Kristen glanced up as her mom returned, precious coffee in hand.

  “I’m sorry. I lost track of time.”

  Kristen shrugged. “S’fine. Have any exciting cases last night?”

  Her mom snorted. “Nothing I’m sharing with you. How was training today?”

  “I’m on the first team for the next meet. It was a breeze,” Kristen said, sitting up straighter. She could be modest later—she had earned this!

  “Oh, well done, sweetie. Do you want to go out for dinner tomorrow to celebrate?” Her mom asked, giving her a careful one-armed hug that didn’t spill her coffee or flatten Kristen’s curls. “Did you think any more on trying out for the hockey team?”

  Kristen rolled her eyes at the old argument. “We both know I’m not a team player, Mom.”

  Her mom shrugged. “But I had so much fun on the hockey team when I was at school, and your gym teacher said you could excel at any sport…,” her mom trailed off, knowing it was pointless to continue.

  Kristen smiled up at her reflection in the mirror.

  “It’s the thirty-first today, isn’t it?” her mom asked, her brow furrowing as she caught up. “You know how I feel about Halloween.”

  Kristen looked up with pleading eyes. “Come on, it’s just a party. It’s at school. What could possibly happen?”

  The older woman sighed at the old argument. “There are a lot of strange people out there, and they only get stranger on Halloween. You know how many more inpatients we get in the emergency room every year on this night.”

  Kristen half-turned away before her mom came out with the same old stats.

  “Look, Mom, I’m seventeen now. I’m not gonna put myself in danger. Hazel will pick me up at seven, and we’ll be home by eleven—way before midnight.” Kristen sighed bitterly. “Which is when the migraines will kick in and spoil the fun, anyway.”

  Dr. Davies looked down at her lovely daughter, her eyes bright with pity at the mention of the migraines that had tainted the last four years of her life. She put down her coffee mug and gently wrapped her arms around Kristen’s shoulders.

  “You know it’s just because I love you and I worry about you.”

  “I know, and I love you too. But you need to trust that I can look after myself.” Kristen forced herself to smile. “Besides, I’ve just proved that I can run faster than ninety-nine percent of people!”

  “OK, you win,” her mom conceded, raising her hands in defeat. “Just make sure you show your costume to your dad. He’ll be so disappointed if he missed you.”

  Stepdad, the word immediately rose in defense. Derek and her mom had married when Kristen was five years old, and he was a good father-figure, but Kristen still struggled to think of him as simply “Dad.” Not that she ever told her mom or Derek.

  “Deal,” Kristen stated. “Now shoo. I need to finish getting ready. Hazel is picking me up soon.”

  Kristen checked her image once more in the full-length mirror. The black and pink dress was quirky, but Kristen thought she pulled it off in a punk rock style. She grinned. At seventeen, she was supposed to be concerned with looking a little sexy; but
she was as giddy as a little kid on her first Halloween!

  Still in shock that her mom had agreed to her going out, Kristen grabbed her hat and left her room.

  Her mom glanced up as Kristen came into the lounge, quickly surveying her daughter’s outfit and frowning.

  “A witch?”

  “I know it’s not very imaginative, but it is my first time.”

  Dr. Davies attempted a smile at her daughter’s humor. She stared down at her coffee mug, debating whether to say something.

  Before she had a chance, the front door flung open and her husband came in, dropping his briefcase in the hall and looking up with a smile.

  “Look at you! You managed to convince your mom, then?” He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. “I’ve gotta get a photo.”

  Kristen groaned dramatically but duly posed with the broom she was sure she was going to lose by the end of the night.

  Derek looked over to where her mom hovered. “Rachel, let’s get a photo of you two.”

  Dr. Davies shook her head and went to walk past them, when her husband put his hand out to stop her.

  “I don’t condone this, so I’m not going to encourage it.” She pulled away from Derek. “There are things out there…I won’t be happy until she’s home.”

  There was a sharp beep of a car horn, and Kristen checked her cell to find a missed call from Hazel. “Gotta go. I promise I’ll be home safe by eleven.”

  The school grounds had been transformed by the school council and their minions. Plastic skeletons and crepe paper set the standard of the scene.

  Kristen loved it.

  Ghosts, vampires, and other witches milled about, talking and laughing above the spooky background music filtering over the PA system. The classrooms were all open with teachers and other semi-willing victims manning games and challenges. The hall provided food, music, and a balloon-covered dance floor.

  Kristen spotted a six-foot zombie, who stopped staggering and walked over to her in a very human manner.

  “Hey, you made it.”

  “Hi, Chris,” Kristen said, already looking for an excuse to say goodbye. “Have you been drinking?”

  Chris shrugged. Behind the makeup, it was hard to notice his slightly glazed eyes. “A bunch of us are going to the party at Ministry after this. Are you in?”

  She sighed, meeting his gaze. “No, Chris. Stop asking me out, stop moping over me, and stop stalking me at school. We are over.”

  “Kris, babe…” Chris touched her arm and tried not to look too hurt when she snatched it away. “I understand you need space and want to concentrate on track, but we were so happy last year, and you said yourself I didn’t do anything wrong…”

  Kristen put her hands on her hips and glared up at him. “So let me see if I’ve got this right—I want personal space, and I want to concentrate on my sport. But my reasons don’t count because you want to date me. Why—because you’re the guy and I’m only the girl? Am I not allowed to want to be single ‘cos I’m attractive?”

  Chris raised his hands defensively. “Whatever. There’s no talking to you when you’re like this.” He backed away to where his friends gathered.

  Kristen bit her tongue. She had plenty left to say, but Chris was doing as she wished and was backing off. She turned and immediately walked into someone.

  “Coach Radcliffe, sorry!” Kristen cringed with embarrassment as she steadied the older woman who wore some plastic fangs as the bare minimal concession to Halloween.

  “I hope you’re not starting fights, Miss Davies.”

  “Nah, just putting some boys in their place, Coach,” Kristen replied, without quite hitting the right amount of humor.

  Coach Radcliffe grunted, eyeing Kristen for a while before making up her mind. “Close enough to trouble, which means I can rope you into being my assistant. No arguments. You’re helping me with the haunted house.”

  Kristen smirked. She was sure it was a chore nobody volunteered for, hence the arm-twisting. But she was keen for her first taste of a haunted house.

  “If you insist, Coach.”

  She followed Coach Radcliffe to the math department and went through the classroom door that the coach held open for her. Suddenly, a pungent cloth was forced over her mouth, stifling her scream. As Kristen breathed in the fumes, everything started to fade.

  Three

  Kristen groaned, her head pounding and her mouth dry. Wherever she was lying was not comfortable; it was cold and hard. She shifted and felt a surge of panic when she couldn’t move her arms. Kristen opened her heavy eyelids and slowly focused on the movement of people in the flickering candlelight.

  “She’s coming round already,” an unfamiliar male voice drifted by.

  “I used the sedative potion you gave me. Obviously you didn’t make it strong enough.”

  Kristen strained to look behind her, startled by the sound of Coach Radcliffe’s voice.

  “Or she’s even stronger than we’d hoped.”

  “I did say she was the top athlete at the school.”

  Kristen didn’t have to see the coach’s face to know that she was bragging.

  “Wh…wh…,” Kristen tried to push words through her numb throat.

  Those around her ignored her.

  “Almost midnight,” murmured the stranger, brimming with excitement. “Celeste, sharpen the knife. Cole, prepare the talisman.”

  “What about my payment?” came Coach Radcliffe’s voice.

  “Shut up, you mundane fool. You will get it when all is done,” the man who was clearly in charge snapped. “Now, go sit down and keep out of the way. Halloween is too important this year for you to screw up.”

  Kristen caught sight of a beautiful young woman, testing the blade of a knife as she gazed dispassionately down at Kristen.

  Kristen quickly dismissed the notion that this might be a distasteful prank and realized she was in a lot of trouble. She pulled again at her bonds. They creaked but did not give. She wriggled her feet and almost sighed with relief that there was some slack in them. All she needed was the right moment to get her legs free.

  “Give me the knife, my love,” the man purred, holding out his hand to the beautiful woman.

  Oh crap! Right moments were running out!

  Before Kristen could react, she cringed against the powerful wave of a headache. She took a few steady breaths, tears of pain leaking from the corners of her eyes. Chanting voices drifted past the thrum of the headache. Was it coincidence that the two seemed to beat in time?

  Kristen tried to rise above the chanting and, suddenly, everything became clear again. The pain hadn’t gone, but it was shut away.

  She looked up to see the leader leaning over her, both of his hands gripping the handle of the blade, ready to drive it into her heart. As Kristen pulled one foot loose, a new voice called out, “By the Malleus Maleficarum, I charge you to stop…”

  She didn’t wait to find out what was happening. Kristen took advantage of the leader’s distraction and kicked him in the kidneys.

  The woman, Celeste, let out a scream—how dare this girl attack their leader! Kristen twisted to deliver a kick to her face, but with a speed and strength that her tiny figure shouldn’t have possessed, Celeste knocked her leg aside and caused the whole table to topple over. Kristen screwed her eyes shut and braced as the table slammed into the floor, the impact reverberating through her very bones.

  Kristen grimaced with the pain of new bruises. She moved and found one of the ties on her wrist had loosened in the fall. There seemed to be chaos and noise around her and no one was paying her any attention.

  No matter how she twisted, she couldn’t undo the knot tying her right wrist to the table. Kristen glanced around and noticed the knife, lying abandoned on the floor. She stretched out with her legs and nudged it carefully in her direction.

  Cutting herself free, Kristen bounced onto her feet, moving the knife into her strongest hand. Celeste was crumpled in the corner. Kristen
couldn’t see if she was alive or not, but a more pressing matter distracted her.

  The leader was still standing and, as though sensing she was about to cause trouble, he turned to face Kristen. He frowned at the blonde girl, obviously not seeing her as a threat.

  He raised his hand and Kristen felt the air ripple. “Stay” was his single command.

  Yeah, like that was going to happen. Kristen went to move but found the air viscous and unforgiving around her.

  Content with his work, the leader turned back to the real threat, those that dodged in the shadows. He saw a gun raised, and he countered with a wall of fire that appeared as if by magic but was fierce and real.

  Kristen gasped and then realized that the only thing holding her still now was her own shock. Without hesitation, she flipped the knife in her hand and swung the blunt handle at the base of the leader’s head. There was a soft crunch, and the man dropped like a stone.

  The flames that had reached six feet or more suddenly stopped, leaving smoking residue behind.

  There was movement as three people stepped out from the shadows, dressed ready for a fight in combats and black stab vests, the thick padding adding bulk to their torsos. The military gear didn’t slow them down, as they moved into the space; all three aimed their guns at Kristen until their leader raised a hand.

  “Are you OK, miss?” asked the man, moving slowly forward.

  Kristen looked at the unconscious body at her feet and noticed two others across the room. “Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” she snapped.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Kristen Davies,” she answered, raising her hand to push back her loose blonde hair, before realizing that she still held the knife. Kristen suppressed a shudder at the sight of it, channeling her nerves to snap at the strangers, instead. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Alan Thomas, and my colleagues, Shania and Eric North. Don’t worry. We’re here to help. We’ve been tracking these witches for some time.”

  “And you expect me to believe that you—” Kristen broke off from her defensive tirade as she processed what the guy had actually said. “Witches?”

  He nodded, waiting for the reality to sink in. “Eric, check them.”

  The man to his left obediently moved away to check the fallen.

  “Witches? You can’t be serious,” Kristen insisted. “What psycho sacrifices people just because it’s Halloween?”

  “As I said—witches. They are real, Kristen, and a very dangerous breed.”

  “You’re telling me,” Kristen muttered. “They were strong, so strong. And I couldn’t move…”

  “Hey, Thomas. Cole’s dead,” Eric reported back, breaking the tense atmosphere. “Celeste and Dean are unconscious. I’ll get them bound. Shania, can you call it in?”

  The woman nodded and pulled out her cell, walking away to get reception.

  “Kristen,” Thomas said, regaining her attention. “I need to know, did you know any of these people before tonight? How were you taken?”

  “Um no…I mean, the only one I recognized was my coach. Hey, where’s Coach Radcliffe? She isn’t a…” Kristen broke off, hardly believing she was about to say the word, much less entertain their crazy story. “A witch too, is she?”

  Thomas shook his head. “No, she’s human. She’s in restraints outside. We think she may be responsible for other disappearances linked with witch sacrifices. Trust me. She’s going away for a long, long time.”

  Kristen took her time to process it all. “Human? You mean witches aren’t?”

  Thomas shrugged. “They’re a subspecies. They look human, but that’s about it. They use magic to many a dangerous end, and when they need a power fix, they drain the life from human victims…It’s our job to stop them.”

  “So what are you? You’re not like another subspecies are you?”

  Thomas chuckled. “We’re witch-hunters, working for the Malleus Maleficarum Council. And we’re human—although some of the hunting families have gained a few perks.”

  Thomas checked his watch and then looked up to Kristen again. For the first time, she noticed his blue-green eyes, soft and so deep.

  Thomas coughed and Kristen blushed, realizing she was staring. “Sorry, they witch-roofied me. I guess I’m a bit out of it.”

  “Well, drugged or not, you handled yourself well tonight. It was very impressive, and the way Dean’s spell didn’t affect…never mind.”

  Kristen shrugged. “My mom insisted that I learn to defend myself and signed me up for jiu-jitsu when I was six. I guess after all these years, it finally came in handy. Not that I’m saying I wanted to get attacked sooner, I just meant…what was I saying?”

  “I think you’re saying you have a concussion,” Thomas replied, the corner of his mouth tilting in a distracting smile. “I can give you a ride home.”

  “Ah, I don’t think so, I can get myself home.” Kristen retorted, not about to get into this very strange man’s car, a lesson her mom hammered into her. She went to step away and had the fleeting realization that the adrenaline was leaving her body, as her knees buckled and the room started to spin.

  Buckled up in Thomas’s car, Kristen rested her head on the cold window and watched the street lights flick by. She hadn’t exactly accepted Thomas’s help, Kristen grated with the idea that she’d collapsed; she was far from a damsel in distress. She sighed loudly—seeing as she was stuck in this car, she might as well make the most of it.

  “What happens now?” she asked quietly.

  Thomas glanced over at her before returning his attention to the road. “Now, you go home, get some sleep, go to school on Monday, and get on with your life.”

  “So you want me to forget about tonight?”

  “I think it would be healthiest if you put it behind you. Trust that the Council will see that justice is done.”

  “But there are witches in the world!” Kristen waved a vague hand. “How am I supposed to ignore that?”

  “Because it’s the safest option.”

  “But what if I could help?” Kristen insisted.

  Thomas gave her a doubtful look. “You’re still just a kid.”

  “I’m seventeen,” Kristen said defensively. “Besides, you said I did good against those witches.”

  “Kristen, I don’t doubt your ability, but…hunting witches is dangerous. There’s a constant war between the witches and the MMC. It’s death and it’s pain.”

  Kristen fell silent as Thomas turned down her street, only speaking to let him know which house was hers. It was past one a.m., but the lights were all still on. Kristen’s gut twisted, and she was suddenly more fearful of facing her irate mother than the witches.

  Thomas put on the parking brake and leaned past her to pull a card out of the glove box.

  “If you need anything, here’s a number to call in the MMC. They can provide counseling if you wish.” Thomas eyed Kristen, noting the complete lack of shock on her face. He scribbled quickly on the back of the card before handing it to her. “And here’s my direct line. Just in case.”

  “Thanks,” Kristen said, feeling the word was very much insufficient. She took a deep breath and let herself out of the car. Every step toward the house felt like a step closer to reality.

  As she took her keys out, the door opened to reveal a very worried-looking Dr. Davies.

  “Kristen, thank God, you’re home safe!” Rachel pulled her daughter into a crushing hug, before her relief gave way to anger. “Where the hell were you? I don’t set many rules, Kristen—you’re two hours late! I’ve been calling all your friends—what am I supposed to do when they all tell me you’re missing?”

  “Rachel, sweetie, let her get a word in,” Derek said gently, although by the look on his face, Kristen could tell that he was far from forgiving her.

  “I’m sorry,” Kristen said, backing away from the parents and making for the stairs.

  “That’s not good enough. I want to know what happened,” her mom snapped.

&
nbsp; Kristen paused. She didn’t want to drag her mom and Derek into her new, mad world. Her mind shifted to something that was true. “There was this guy…,” she said, caught by the memory of blue-grey eyes. “I lost track of time.”

  Derek didn’t look impressed, but her mom seemed somewhat relieved that her daughter had simply been acting like a typical seventeen year old girl—easily distracted by a handsome boy. Not that Thomas was a boy; he had to be ten years older than her.

  “Well…don’t think this is over,” Dr. Davies said, the strength of anger no longer in her voice. “We’ll be discussing your lack of responsibility tomorrow.”

  Four

  A few days later, Kristen sat in English class, safely near the back where she could get away with paying next-to-no attention. Her mind still labored on that evening—her first Halloween and she had almost been sacrificed by witches but was saved by a secret organization. Kristen had, of course, googled them as soon as she awoke on Sunday but found nothing beyond some very ancient history. The only reference to the Malleus Maleficarum was a fifteenth century how-to for hunting witches. There was no mention of a Council.

  Kristen turned the card over in her hand, her fingers tracing Thomas’s number. She should be more scared by the fact that she was nearly killed and that magic was real, but instead she felt an intense desire to know more.

  She pulled out her cell before she lost her nerve and texted. “I need to see you ASAP. Kristen.”

  A couple of minutes passed before there was a responding buzz. “I’ll pick you up after school. Thomas.”

  Kristen heard a huff behind her and looked over her shoulder to see a gruff-looking Chris.

  “Hmph, stalk much.” Kristen muttered as she stuffed her cell away.

  Later that day, Kristen sat perched on the school wall, watching the cars pass with growing nerves. She was going to insist that Thomas take her seriously. She wasn’t a kid and, deep down, she knew that this was the right thing to do.

  “Hey, Kristen, ready to hit the shops?” Hazel asked, popping up by her elbow.

  “What?”

  “Shopping…,” Hazel repeated, waiting for the memory to click with Kristen. Hazel frowned, concerned that the normally sharp Kristen was being this flaky. “Remember, you were gonna help me find a birthday present for my horrid little stepsister.”

  “Oh crap! Sorry I forgot.”

  “Well, you’re here. Let’s go.”

  Kristen winced. “I kinda made plans.”

  “What?” Hazel looked very hurt. “What could be more important…?”

  She trailed off as a car pulled up on the curb and Thomas rolled down a window. “Hey, Kristen. Jump in.”

  “See you tomorrow?” Kristen asked, hoping that Hazel would take this at face value, that she was simply a terrible friend that was bailing on her in favor of a guy.

  Trying to set aside her guilt at not sharing the truth with her best friend, Kristen got into the car.

  “You’re looking brighter,” Thomas commented.

  “Yeah, I’m getting into your car as a conscious decision this time,” Kristen said with a wary smile. “So where are we going, Mr. Thomas? To your Council?”

  “Not yet. I’m not officially signing you up for anything until I’ve got an idea of what you can do. We’re going to my studio,” Thomas replied.

  After a short drive downtown, they pulled up outside a nondescript building. There was a sign by the door that read Alan Thomas: Martial Arts. Kristen looked curiously at Thomas and followed him to the first floor, which revealed a large open space with lots of light coming through the full-length windows.

  “You teach martial arts?” Kristen asked.

  Thomas took off his coat and tossed it aside. Kristen couldn’t help but notice that his navy jersey did little to hide his trim figure.

  He rolled up his sleeves, looking at his studio fondly. “Witch-hunting pays pretty well, but I wanted to give something more to the community. I can’t tell them about witches, but I like to think I’m giving them the skills to defend themselves.”

  “You really are one of the good guys, aren’t you?”

  Thomas smirked and changed the subject. “So who did you train with?”

  “Mike Chang.”

  Thomas nodded. “He’s a good guy. Right, let’s see what he’s taught you. Shoes off.”

  Kristen grinned, kicking off her sneakers and joining Thomas on the large, worn training mat. This was something she felt comfortable with; this was what she knew.

  “Right, let’s see what you’ve learned,” Thomas said, taking up a ready pose.

  Kristen followed his lead as he went through some basic movements. She flowed from one block to another with ease.

  “Good,” noted Thomas. “Your technique is clean, efficient. Let’s step it up.”

  Without giving her time to refuse, Thomas upped his attack. The blows were strong, and he moved faster than anyone Kristen had ever seen but his accuracy and control never faulted.

  Kristen kept up at first, moving back and forth across the mat, trying to throw him off balance. But as Thomas kept up his relentless attack, she began to falter. A few of his blows got through her defenses. Pushed beyond her limit, Kristen lashed out, her fist connecting with Thomas’s shoulder.

  Thomas immediately stopped and stepped back, breathing heavily and frowning at the girl. “You’re strong.”

  Kristen struggled to catch her breath and was very aware of the clothes sticking to her sweaty skin. “Yeah…I’m stronger…than I look.”

  Thomas gave her an odd look. “You’re stronger than I am,” he said quietly as he moved across the room. He opened up a cupboard and pulled out a couple of bottles of water. He tossed one over to Kristen, who gladly drank half of it before replying.

  “Not to brag, but I am the school’s top athlete. I’m heading for the Olympics and everything.”

  Thomas twisted the bottle in his hand, struggling to find the right words. “No, Kristen, you don’t understand. I’m not…not your average person. Do you remember that I said some witch-hunters have certain gifts?”

  Kristen narrowed her eyes. “Vaguely. I was drugged at the time.”

  “The MMC has long known that when a person fights witches, their descendants gain certain traits that make us more effective. With each generation, we get stronger and faster. We have an inborn immunity to some magic, and we can sense magic being cast.” Thomas took a deep breath.

  “So what, everyone in the MMC is walking round with superpowers?” Kristen asked, trying to get her head around the bigger picture.

  Thomas shook his head, trying to hide a smile at her choice of words. “No, not all. There are 1st gens—men and women with no witch-hunter blood in them—that take up the fight. We try and keep the witch chaos out of the public eye, but there’s always a steady stream of new recruits. The 1st gens don’t have any inborn gifts. As much as I admire their bravery, they are too much of an easy target and always have to stick with a higher gen. Their children are 2nd gens; but it’s only at the 3rd generation that the gifts start to show themselves. My family has been fighting witches for a hundred years. I’m what’s known as a 4th gen.”

  “And what exactly does that translate to?” Kristen interrupted. “You’re not about to tell me you’re some immortal being?”

  Thomas snorted. “No, I’m very much mortal. But I’m strong and fast. There are a few 5th and 6th gens, and I heard there’s even a 7th gen in the UK—they’re the only ones more powerful than me.”

  “So?”

  “So, my point is—what is so special about you?”

  “Aw, you think I’m special?” Kristen asked, batting her eyelashes playfully.

  “You’re only seventeen, and a girl, yet you’re stronger than me. Plus you were able to defy Dean’s spell when he tried to control you…” Thomas eyed her carefully. “Are you sure you don’t have witch-hunter blood in you?”

  “Alan Thomas, now you’re just teasing,” Kris
ten replied, crossing her arms. “I wish. My mom’s a doctor, and Derek is a lawyer—admirable but mundane jobs. I bet they’d freak to learn the truth about witches.”

  “It was a long-shot anyway. The Council keeps strict tabs on witch-hunter bloodlines…,” Thomas trailed off. “Derek? Not ‘dad’?”

  “He’s my stepdad. He married my mom when I was five. Before you ask, no, I don’t know who my dad is. My mom won’t tell me, and my grandparents are as clueless as I am,” Kristen said huffily, making it clear that this topic wasn’t up for discussion.

  “But what if he’s a witch-hunter?” Thomas asked. “It would help explain everything.”

  “Please, drop it.”

  “Do you ever get migraines?” Thomas asked.

  Kristen froze, looking up at him warily. Had he researched her medical history? She shrugged, playing it cool. “Everyone gets headaches.”

  “Do they happen more frequently at sunset or midnight? Do they happen every Halloween? Every summer solstice?” Thomas asked. “They are the times that witchkind is most active. Witch-hunters detect any spell-casting within a small range—and in the untrained it can be mistaken for a headache.”

  “I think you’re making all this up,” Kristen argued.

  “Kristen, you came to me for answers. I’m sorry if they’re not the ones you want,” Thomas replied gently. “Look, I’ll train you if you want. And…I know it’s not my place, but I think you should talk to your mom. Even if you could get a name, it would be a start.”

  Kristen stood quietly, feeling dazed. She wasn’t sure quite what she was expecting from Thomas, but an interrogation over her absent father wasn’t it.

  “Can I drive you home?” Thomas asked, stepping closer.

  Kristen moved quickly away. “No, I’ll get the bus.”

  She grabbed her shoes and bag and left, avoiding Thomas’s gaze. Who was he to say that she might be a valued witch-hunter progeny? Her father was nothing to her—he had never been there, and she had never wanted him. Now she was supposed to believe that the one thing special about her—her athletic ability—was only because of his DNA? What did she have left? Surely she was a straight-A student because her mom was smart…oh please, God, she hoped that she could at least hold onto the idea that she’d inherited her mom’s brain.

  The long bus ride home seemed to take no time at all, her thoughts turning in constant circles. By the time she got to her house, things weren’t any clearer.

  When Kristen got into the hallway she almost walked into her parents, who looked about ready to leave, keys in hand.

  “Are you OK, sweetie?” her mom asked, instantly recognizing that something worried her daughter.

  “I need to speak to you, Mom. It’s important.”

  Dr. Davies looked meaningfully to Derek. “Can you go for the groceries without me?”

  “Sure.” Derek glanced between the two tense women. “I’ll pick up extra ice cream.”

  Dr. Davies waited for her husband to leave before she spoke. “OK, what did you want to talk about?”

  Kristen walked into the lounge and lowered her aching body onto the couch. “I want to know about my father.”

  Dr. Davies’s breath hitched, and she took her time to sit down before replying. “He’s never been a part of your life, sweetie. I don’t think digging into ancient history is going to help you now.”

  “But you don’t understand, Mom,” Kristen stressed. “I need to know about him. I’m changing, and there are things about me that only he can explain. Things I…I can’t tell you, and you wouldn’t believe anyway.”

  “Oh, Kristen,” her mom sighed, refusing to meet her eyes. “I just wanted you to have a normal childhood, a normal life!”

  “Wait…you know? About…”

  Rachel looked up, her eyes glistening with tears. “Witches?” She wiped her eyes, trying not to smear her mascara. “It all happened so long ago. I was in my last year of medicine at Cambridge in England. It was Halloween—there wasn’t as much hype about it back then, and definitely not in the UK, but I went out for a few drinks with my classmates.

  “On my way home, I was accosted by two men—I only had time to register fear before everything went blank. I woke up in a room filled with candles. There was a scuffle, as witch-hunters came in to stop them from sacrificing me.

  “One of the witch-hunters took me to an all-night café to make sure I had a drink and wasn’t in shock. He explained everything and then swore me to secrecy.

  “I struggled with the knowledge that there were witches out there, so one brittle day in November, I marched up to his house and demanded to help. From then on, when I wasn’t studying, I was his secretary, writing up all the details of his work, making official reports to his Council. I learned so much. I was awakened to the danger posed by witches. I confess that it scared me.”

  “That’s all well and good, but what about my father?” Kristen demanded, her ears turning red at her own nerve of speaking to her mom this way.

  Rachel picked at a loose thread on her cardigan, her blue eyes lost in the past. “I’d been working for him for about a month…he would have never made a move; he was twice my age, and I swear there wasn’t a caring bone in his body. Besides, he wasn’t the type to get distracted by a pretty girl. But I thought myself in love with him. He looked like a marine with his short-cut hair, broad shoulders, and muscles that…well, you never would have guessed he was well into his forties. And he had this aura around him, that he was confident and strong and would always keep me safe.”

  “What happened?” Kristen asked quietly.

  “We became a couple, and for a few months I was deliriously happy. The honeymoon period.” Rachel sighed and gave a bitter smile. “But as that wore off, my fear of this life fighting witches started to bubble up again. The more time I worked for your father and the Council, the more aware I was of the dangers. Did you know that they have a thousand 1st gen witch-hunters? Did you know this translated to only having a hundred or so 3rd gens and a handful of higher gens? The average life expectancy is less than fifty years, and any witch-hunters who make names for themselves are painting targets on their backs!

  “The day after graduation, I found out that I was pregnant. Suddenly, everything became clear. As much as I loved your father, I couldn’t imagine a future with him and I definitely couldn’t hand over my child to the witch-hunters. You have no idea how tenacious the Council are in keeping track of bloodlines and future fighters. There is no choice with them. It is mandatory for the sons and daughters of witch-hunters to sign up to serve them.”

  Kristen sat silently absorbing this new history, trying to ignore the emotions that were threatening to boil over. She had never seen her mom look so utterly defeated, but she found it difficult to pity her.

  “Screw the Council, Mom. You mean to tell me that my father doesn’t even know I exist? All this time I thought he didn’t want me, and instead it was just you running scared! I can’t believe you were so selfish!” Kristen’s voice gradually raised, and she jumped from her seat.

  “Kristen, sweetie, I did it all for you. So you could have a normal life,” her mom pleaded.

  “Bul—”

  “Kristen Anne Davies, watch your language!”

  Kristen grabbed her bag and swung it over her shoulder. “I can’t stay here, I have to get out.”

  “Where are you going to go?”

  Kristen shrugged. “I’ll crash at Hazel’s if I have to. I just need some space. I’ll see you tomorrow after school.”

  Kristen marched to the door and then paused. “Can you at least tell me his name?”

  “Brian. Brian Lloyd.”

  Five

  Kristen thought about going to Hazel’s house, her best friend would be totally fine with her staying. But Hazel’s parents would do that thing where they played devil’s advocate and tried to make Kristen realize that whatever was going on, her mom likely had her best interests at heart. Was that some top-secret clause in
Parent Club? To support other parents?

  Kristen walked down Main Street until her ride arrived.

  “Hey, you OK?” Thomas asked as she got in.

  “Yeah, you know, just finding out my whole life is a lie, but whatever.” Kristen shrugged. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Well, after everything I’ve dropped on you these last few days, I figure I owe you.”

  They drove in silence, stopping by an apartment block. Thomas pulled out his keys and led the way up to the third floor.

  “Come on in,” Thomas invited. “Sorry it’s a mess. I wasn’t expecting guests. The fridge is empty, so we should probably order a pizza. You’re a bit young for beer…hot cocoa?”

  Kristen smiled, thinking a beer would be perfect right now. “Yeah, cocoa sounds great.”

  Later, as they relaxed on the sofa, a half-eaten pizza on the table in front of them, Thomas finally found the courage to broach the important subject.

  “So…what did you find out?”

  Kristen sighed, brushing back a loose strand of blonde hair. “My mom lied to me my whole life. She knew all about witches and knew my father was a witch-hunter. She was a coward and ran away.”

  “But you found out who he was?”

  Kristen bit her lip. “Just a name—Brian Lloyd.”

  Thomas sat straighter. “Brian Lloyd? From the British MMC? You’re kidding me—he’s a 5th gen and famous around the world.”

  Kristen pulled her knees up on the couch. Her capacity to be shocked had been well used up today. She felt like she couldn’t react to anything more.

  Thomas leaned forward to grab his bottle of beer. “You know what this means?”

  “My Christmas card list is longer?”

  Thomas ignored her humorless comment. “It means you’re a 6th gen. Do you know how rare that is? Or what the MMC would do to get their hands on you?”

  Kristen cringed, remembering everything her mom had said, the fears she had expressed. “Look, I don’t want to involve your Council. Not yet, not until I’ve figured all of this out. But…will you still train me?”

  Thomas smiled at the uncertain but hopeful blue eyes. “Sure, I guess I can understand that. It’s a big step to take. I’ll have to fit it around my witch-hunter duties, but yeah, I’ll get you trained up.”

  Kristen tried to stifle a yawn, but Thomas spotted it anyway.

  “I’ll get you something to sleep in. You take the bed. I’ll grab the spare blankets and take the couch.”

  Kristen took the offered cotton pajamas and disappeared into the bedroom briefly to change.

  “The pants are too big, but I’ll make do with your shirt,” she said, holding the grey pants in hand and wearing nothing but the loose grey shirt that hung comfortably to her thigh.

  Thomas gawked for a moment at the leggy teenager and then turned away, his cheeks reddening.

  “Why, Mr. Thomas, are you blushing?” Kristen teased, less-than-secretly pleased that she’d caused such a reaction.

  “Get yourself to bed, Kristen,” he replied tersely.

  “I didn’t realize you liked me like that. You know, it’s perfectly natural to be attracted to someone,” Kristen said, perfectly calmly. “To be honest, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your eyes all week.”

  Thomas turned, his grey eyes warming as he realized they were mere inches apart. “It might be natural, but it is inappropriate. You are effectively a minor in my care.”

  “I’m seventeen. That’s hardly a kid,” Kristen replied, reaching out and tracing the skin of his arm with the tips of her fingers.

  Thomas grabbed her wrist to stop her. “And I’m ten years older than you.”

  “Perhaps I like older guys…” Kristen looked up. They were close enough to kiss. Her heart thudded and her mind raced with possibilities. She couldn’t ever remember feeling like this with Chris.

  Thomas pulled away, breaking the spell. “You need to go out with people your own age.”

  Kristen groaned with frustration. “Alan Thomas, you…fine. I’m going to bed.”

  Kristen stomped away into his bedroom, being surrounded by his things hardly helped diffuse the situation. She climbed into the soft double bed and checked her cell: three missed calls from home and a couple of texts from Hazel and Chris.

  Kristen quickly texted Hazel, so she knew not to worry and then lingered over the message from Chris. They had broken up months ago, but this was, firstly, a guy that was not afraid to be interested in her, and, secondly, was her own age.

  With Thomas’s rejection still stinging, she texted Chris to meet up after school on Friday.

  Kristen tried to put the awkward silences that made up breakfast at Thomas’s apartment behind her.

  She’d called home and left her parents a message to say that she had been fine staying at Hazel’s, and was on her way to school. It was weird to be using that cover again. Last year, Kristen had always said that she was with Hazel when she wanted to stay the night with Chris. At least to begin with, but it turned out that her parents were relatively OK with their then-sixteen-year-old daughter sleeping with her boyfriend. They trusted her to be careful.

  Kristen didn’t think they’d be quite as understanding with her staying with a twenty-seven-year-old witch-hunter.

  Six

  The date seemed to be going well. Kristen sat in the movie theater, gazing up at the big screen. The film was the latest trying to satisfy the post-Twilight vampire demand. But beyond the fact there was a really hot guy with fangs starring in it, Kristen couldn’t tell what the plot was about.

  I wonder if vampires are real too…, she thought idly as another interminable romantic scene played out. Would she have to rethink and relearn everything she thought she knew? Witches were real, but what about demons, werewolves, spirits, sprites, imps, ghosts…everything her mother had ever mentioned in an innocent fairytale.

  She supposed she should ask Thomas the next time she saw him. If they were still on speaking terms, that is. She still couldn’t believe what a fool she’d made of herself…Kristen took a deep breath, grimacing. No, tonight she was here with Chris. She shouldn’t be wasting any thought or energy on Alan Thomas.

  All too soon the credits rolled, and Kristen had to go back to trying to be interested in what Chris was saying.

  “And the part where he turned against his master, that was so cool,” Chris rattled on, his enthusiasm negating any need for Kristen to answer. “I mean, you can hardly tell it’s CGI…”

  Kristen linked her arm through his and let him lead her to his car. If she was being very honest, she had missed this, just being with someone, feeling connected and a part of normal life. Even before all the witch nonsense, the summer had been a little lonely.

  At the car, Chris leaned in and gave her the briefest, gentlest kiss on her lips and then opened the passenger door, holding it open for her. Kristen smiled and slid in.

  On the journey home, they chatted easily, catching up on (almost) everything that had happened. Chris was excited about a football scholarship that would keep him in New York, and they batted around some of the options Kristen had ahead of her. Kristen sensed that Chris wouldn’t mind at all if she accepted a local offer, too.

  She shook her head and looked out the window, immediately frowning. “Chris, this isn’t the way back to my place.”

  “I know. It’s a surprise,” Chris said, concentrating as he turned onto Fourth Street.

  They drove along silently, before pulling into a very familiar and very quiet spot.

  “Do you remember? This is where we came last year when we were ready to be serious,” Chris said as he put on the parking brake. “I know we’ve been apart for ages, but I want you to know that I can’t imagine my life without you.”

  Chris twisted in his seat, reaching out to gently cup her face. He moved in close enough to kiss. “I think I love you,” he murmured, just before their lips met.

  The panic Kristen felt at his sudden declaration was
quickly subdued by his kiss. There was familiarity and desire as Kristen responded, her fingers running through his thick hair.

  His hot breath and pulse seemed to kick up a gear as Kristen felt his hand move purposefully over her hip.

  Suddenly snapping out of it, Kristen shoved his hand away and pulled back. “I can’t do this, Chris.”

  “W-what? Why not?” Chris stroked her cheek. “I’ve really missed you, Kris.”

  “It’s Kristen,” she snapped. “I never liked my name being shortened. And I’m not doing this because it’s just too much too soon.”

  “Kristen…we used to sleep together all the time,” Chris said, frowning at her nonsensical argument.

  Kristen pulled back further, her brows raised questioningly. “So you think just because we used to have sex, you have the right to jump straight back into it? I think you should take me home, Chris.”

  Chris hesitated, unsure what to make of her reaction. “No, I just think part of you has forgotten how much fun it used to be.”

  Kristen ignored him, putting her seatbelt on. “Take me home.”

  “But, Kristen, we’ve come this far,” Chris replied, moving his hand slowly and seductively from her knee toward her thigh.

  Kristen snapped and grabbed his hand, twisting it off her leg.

  Chris’s sharp scream was loud in the small space of the car. Kristen looked at him warily as he cradled his arm.

  “What the hell was that?” Chris snapped. “What have you done, you crazy bitch!”

  Kristen bit back a smile. “Watch your language. You should get that checked out. I might have done some damage.”

  “You think?” he hissed.

  “C’mon, give me the keys. I’ll drive you to the emergency room.”

  “This car is brand new,” Chris argued.

  “Then don’t tempt me into banging it into something,” Kristen countered. “Or I could leave you to get your own sorry ass to the hospital.”

  Chris swore beneath his breath and reluctantly switched places with Kristen.

  The emergency room was reasonably quiet when Kristen drove up. She held the doors open for the scowling Chris, torn between leaving him to deal with this on his own and staying to watch him suffer.

  “If you sit over there, dear, a nurse will be with you shortly,” the bone-tired receptionist said, pointing toward a curtained booth.

  A familiar face soon came along. “Kristen, honey, I haven’t seen you for ages! Rachel’s on break at the moment. Do you want me to go get her?”

  “Maggie! No, it’s fine. I’ll catch up with her later at home.”

  “OK, well let’s see to your boyfriend,” Nurse Maggie said with a teasing smile.

  “Not my boyfriend.”

  “OK, OK. Well we’re gonna get you strapped up and off for an x-ray.” Maggie pulled out a clean bandage. “So how did you do this, playing football?”

  “Umm…sort of—”

  “Ha, not likely. He got handsy and I put him in his place,” Kristen interrupted, crossing her arms.

  Maggie glanced at the boy that dared upset her Kristen. She didn’t say a word, but tugged the bandage firmly.

  Chris yelped and shot a look at Maggie. “Hey, you did that on purpose,” he growled, nursing his half-bandaged wrist.

  “Oops,” Maggie replied, wide-eyed and very much innocent.

  Kristen snickered, suddenly feeling very fond of Maggie.

  There was the buzz of her cell phone in her pocket, quickly followed by her Royal Blood ringtone blasting out.

  “Honey, you’re not supposed to have that in here,” Nurse Maggie warned.

  Kristen saw Alan Thomas flash up on the screen. “Yeah, I’ve got to take this,” she said apologetically, leaving the curtained area and hitting answer.

  “Thomas, hi.”

  “Kristen, thank God I got through. Where are you?”

  Kristen stepped out into the cool winter air. “I’m at the hospital. You sound worried. What’s up?”

  “What? What happened?”

  “Nothing. I went on a date with a guy my age, just like you suggested, and I kinda broke his wrist,” Kristen said dismissively. “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

  The silence from Thomas’s end dragged on before he finally spoke. “There’s a witch uprising. The British MMC have confirmed the existence of a Shadow Witch.”

  Kristen felt a chill across her spine at the very sound of it. “A what?”

  “A Shadow Witch.” Thomas repeated, stress coloring his voice. “A witch whose magic is without limits. The last time one rose up, she put an end to the Dark Ages and destroyed societies worldwide.”

  “So that’s bad…”

  “It’s worse. We got news half an hour ago that the Shadow Witch has declared war. She has broken the walls of England’s most secure prisons and released hundreds of witches with one drive—revenge. She’s already done the same in Glasgow, Paris, Madrid…we know she’s working her way here. It’s only a matter of time before she attacks.”

  “You’ve got a few hours, right? For her to fly from Europe?”

  “No, Kristen, she’s not like other witches. She’s nothing we’ve ever seen before. She can vanish into shadows and reappear anywhere. Which means she could appear at any time.” Thomas took a deep breath. “All witch-hunters have been ordered to their nearest prisons—I’m driving up to Blackrock now. Hopefully being proactive will save us from the same fate as the Brits.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The word is that the British MMC knew the Shadow Witch was coming, and practically handed her the key to releasing bound witches around the world,” Thomas said bitterly. “They were arrogant enough to think that it was secure. And now their MMC has been decimated.”

  “Fine, well, sign me up. I can drive over and—”

  “No,” Thomas interrupted. “No, I need you to stay where you are.”

  “I can help,” Kristen argued.

  “Look, I know you want to, and I know that this is what you were born for, but you’re not an official witch-hunter and you’re not even trained,” Thomas broke off and Kristen could hear the sound of an indicator in the background. “The truth is I can’t go into the biggest fight of our lives worrying about your safety.”

  Kristen gritted her teeth, feeling incredibly useless. “OK.”

  Thomas breathed an audible sigh of relief. “Right, next I need you to warn your mom. There’s gonna be a lot of casualties coming in, and Rachel has the most knowledge about us. She’ll know what to do. Keep safe.”

  “Yeah, go…kick witch ass,” Kristen said lamely.

  Thomas laughed and hung up, leaving Kristen with a dead line.

  “Come back to me,” she murmured, before going inside to find her mom.

  Seven

  Kristen couldn’t remember the last time she was this tense. Waiting around and doing nothing when she knew that something bad was happening made her so short-tempered that her mom sent her to pack emergency bandages. The mundane task helped to occupy her but not much.

  In the early hours of the morning, Kristen had fallen asleep in the doctor’s lounge. Then, all hell broke loose. There was a stampede of feet and gurneys as every person hurried to the front of the hospital as casualties arrived.

  The walking wounded helped move their more-injured colleagues before they allowed themselves to be taken aside for their own abrasions.

  Kristen stood from the side of the reception area. Her mom darted about, giving orders and doing everything she could. Kristen had never seen her face such a challenge at work, and it was like watching a confident stranger on a mission, rather than her flaky mom.

  Kristen continued to watch as the flood of injured witch-hunters became a trickle and quickly stopped. There had only been about fifty people when they had been anticipating much worse.

  Kristen moved through the less-seriously injured patients, keenly looking for a familiar face. Her hope wavered and she moved on to the beds that wer
e crowded with doctors and nurses doing their best in the emergency. At the very far end, his perfect face so covered with contusions that Kristen could barely recognize him, she finally found Thomas.

  “Thomas,” she gasped, panicking as he gave no sign of knowing she was there. Kristen looked up to see Nurse Maggie at his side. “How is he?”

  Maggie sighed and moved toward Kristen. “Not good, honey. He’s lost a lot of blood. There’s damage to his spine, but we won’t know how bad it is until the swelling goes down.”

  Kristen sat on an uncomfortable hospital chair, watching Thomas sleep. They had moved him to a private room as soon as he’d been stabilized, and Kristen hadn’t left his side.

  Kristen had gotten the full story when her mom came to find her about midday, and Rachel had heard it from the various witch-hunters she had treated.

  They hadn’t stood a chance.

  The Shadow Witch had returned the powers of every single bound and vengeful witch and unleashed them on the witch-hunters, beating them back.

  Then, as though she were simply bored with the concept of war, the Shadow Witch had swept the other witches up, and spirited them away. Which left the few surviving witch-hunters to piece themselves back together and retreat.

  So many had died. Kristen knew she should be thankful that Thomas had returned, even if he was a little worse for wear.

  There was a groan from the bed, and Thomas shifted. Kristen was immediately on her feet, next to him.

  “Thomas, you need to relax and stay still. You’ll pull your stitches.”

  Thomas’s eyes fluttered open and fixed on Kristen. “Hey, you did as you were told,” he croaked.

  Kristen found tears springing to her eyes, her nerves making her control waver. “Damn it, Alan. Staying away was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’m so glad you’re back.”

  Thomas smiled, and reached up to gently stroke Kristen’s cheek, but as he moved to balance himself, he froze.

  “I…,” he broke off, terrified to say it aloud. “I can’t move my legs.”

  Kristen bit her lip. “There was swelling—once it goes down the doctor says you might recover full use of your legs.”

  “Crap.” Thomas collapsed back on the bed. Tears threatened to leak from his eyes. “Um, Kristen, I need you to…get me a full report of survivors. We need to plan where we go from here.”

  Sensing that he wanted to be alone right now, Kristen nodded and obediently went to leave. She paused at the door and glanced back at him. “I’ll be back soon. I’m not going anywhere.”

  It was midafternoon the following day, and Kristen was hunting down her mom with a peace offering. She found Dr. Davies making her rounds and handed her the steaming cup of coffee that she’d bought from an actual coffee shop down the road.

  “Is everything OK, sweetie?” her mom asked, savoring the smell of freshly-ground coffee.

  “Yeah, it’s all just…overwhelming.” Kristen bit her lip. “I’ve been meaning to say—last night—you were awesome, Mom. I—I’ve never seen you like that, but the way you took control, and…”

  Dr. Davies blushed at the compliments. “Can I have that in writing?”

  “You know what I mean,” Kristen said, flustered. “And look, about the other day, I’m really sorry I lost my temper. I really had no right to snap or call you a coward; you are definitely not a coward.”

  Dr. Davies looked down at her daughter, worried by this unusual show of emotion. “What’s brought this on?”

  Kristen sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s knowing all those people died and that this is much bigger than whatever is going on between us.”

  Dr. Davies pulled Kristen into a hug, careful not to spill coffee on her. It scared her that her daughter was acting so mature. She just wanted to keep her little girl safe. “Kristen, I love you, and I am so sorry for keeping the truth from you. I promise, whatever you decide now, I will support you.”

  Kristen felt a wave of emotion, and the world stopped around her…only the world didn’t restart. Kristen gasped at the headache that she was quickly learning for magic casting. Before she had a chance to panic, she realized that it was faint, so far away she could barely detect it. What the—?

  There was shouting coming from the wards.

  “What’s happening?” Kristen asked as her mom pulled away.

  Dr. Davies rushed to the nearest patient who lay comatose, the machine that normally clicked and whirred happily as it kept her alive, was silent.

  “She’s failing,” Dr. Davies shouted as she hit the alarm.

  Nothing happened.

  Rachel hit it again, distressed. “Kristen, get out. Get help,” she shouted to her daughter as she started to manually keep the comatose woman’s heart beating.

  Kristen dashed out to find the ward in mayhem. Everything electrical had shut down. But how? What could have possibly done it? And why?

  Kristen walked down the corridor, dodging the nurses and interns who were racing between lost causes.

  “The witches…the witches…”

  Kristen looked to find a young woman with a bandaged head, sitting and hiding behind the nurse’s post.

  “Are you OK?”

  The woman looked up at her, eyes bright with fever. “The witches…they’re coming.”