CHAPTER THREE
The front door of the house opened.
"Mrs Campbell?"
"Yes?"
"Ian's Gang," Ian said proudly, Matthew stood behind him looking vaguely bored. "We're here to protect you."
"Mr Winchester?"
"Yes?"
"Ian's Gang," Steve grunted, pushing his way in, Banix and Scott following suit. "Shift, will ya?"
"Mrs and Mrs Sutherland?"
"Yes," the ladies chorused.
"We're here to protect your child," Robert informed them.
"Oh, good. Do come in."
Robert, Sarah and Philip were ushered in.
"Yeah," Philip scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Their child."
Sarah elbowed him one.
All the houses were set out in the same way (it was Maltby, after all) with the baby's room upstairs. The parents busied themselves elsewhere, leaving the gang members alone in various rooms of the house.
"So," Steve nudged Scott. "I hear you fancy our Sarah, eh?"
"What?!" Scott looked shocked, and then looked at Banix, betrayed. "You told!"
Banix shrugged. "He asked."
"I ordered you not to tell!" Scott snapped, outraged.
"He ordered me to tell," Banix commented disinterestedly. "You see my dilemma."
"You treacherous tin tit!" Scott barked.
"Never mind," Steve interrupted, clearly enjoying himself. "So you fancy her, so what? It's no big deal."
Scott relaxed. "It isn't?"
"No," Steve answered jovially. "Besides," he coughed, "it's not like you stand a chance, anyway."
"I don't?" Scott looked hurt.
"Nah, she's hot to trot for Ian, everyone knows that," Steve confided.
"Hot to trot?" Scott exclaimed. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Steve leaned forward confidentially, "that she'd like to be alone with him in a very hot shower."
"I..." Scott struggled to regain his dignity. "I don't think Ian sees her that way, though."
"No, I'm sure you're right, he probably doesn't," Steve nodded. "Mind you, if she crawls into his bed in the nude one night, I can't exactly see him turning her down, can you?" he exploded with laughter.
Scott glared at him and Banix, who for all his supposed emotionlessness, was currently doing a very good emulation of smirking.
Police Chief Steven Brick had joined Ian and Matthew at the Campbell's, in the study.
"You know," Ian began, "I've been thinking."
"Oh dear," Matthew sympathised. "Go and lie down for a while, I'm sure the pain will go away."
Ian ignored him. "There's something about these abductions, three every year..."
"What?" Steven pressed.
"It reminds me of an old Zakarian legend," Ian began.
"Oh no," Matthew groaned, "not an old Zakarian legend. Honestly, there's one for every occasion, isn't there? They're like greetings cards."
Ian continued to studiously ignore him. "It's a myth, a fairy story, really. About three witches who lived in the dark forest. No one ever saw them, except for one night of the year, when they'd come out, looking for an ingredient for their soup, the soup that sustained their immortality, the one ingredient they couldn't find in the woods."
"Which was?" Steven pressed.
Ian looked at him. "Boiled baby fat."
There was an uneasy silence.
"You Zakarians have some fuckin' sick fairy stories, that's all I can say," Matthew commented.
Robert, Sarah and Philip were waiting upstairs, in one of the rooms adjacent to the nursery, when the door opened. Sarah jumped.
It was a little girl, a fair-haired angel, about five or six, in pyjamas, carrying a book.
"Hello," Sarah smiled.
"What are you doing?" the girl asked.
"Waiting for God," Philip quipped.
"What's your name?" Sarah bent down to her.
"Sophie," the girl said shyly.
"Is that a book?" Sarah inquired. Sophie nodded. "What's it about?"
Sophie giggled. "Witches."
"Witches, hey?" Sarah cocked her head to one side. "Good witches or bad witches?"
"Bad witches," Sophie giggled, "They eat children!"
"That's pretty bad," Robert concurred.
"Shouldn't you be in bed?" Sarah asked kindly. Sophie nodded. "Well, maybe you should go back. I won't tell, I promise. Okay?"
"Okay," Sophie replied solemnly and toddled off back to her room.
Sarah shut the door after her, smiling.
Philip looked at her dubiously. "Don't get any ideas," he warned.
Sophie made her way back to her room. The window was open and someone was in her room. A woman with a black cloak, pointy hat and broomstick. The woman turned.
Sophie gasped.
"Don't scream," Esmeralda sneered, "or I'll turn you into a toad."
Sophie looked at her, wide-eyed. "Are you a bad witch?" she whispered.
Esmeralda advanced on her. "I'm a very bad witch."
Sophie's lower lip trembled. "Are you going to eat me?"
"Oh no, honey," Esmeralda assured, "I'm not going to eat you." She broke into a wide, repulsive grin.
"I'm going to eat your little brother!" she cackled.