*****
It was the morning after the night before. That’s how they described it, wasn’t it? That period of time when rash, passionate actions were shown by the harsh light of day, provoking regret, guilt, and possibly embarrassment.
Hunter awoke early to a still-darkened room. He felt oddly calm, as though the stress, grief and rage of the last two days had, if not dulled, been pushed back to a more manageable perspective.
Hunter shifted his body slowly to sit up. In bed next to him Sophie was still sleeping soundly. He watched her for several long minutes, even in the half-light before dawn she was beautiful, and there was something softer, more serene about her face while she slept. He supposed it had to do with her chill and sharp intellect being reserved for dreams and out of his reach.
He moved slowly so as not to wake her, slipping out of bed and pulling on any old clothes before going downstairs. The rest of the house was still sleeping and as Charles hadn’t lit the morning fires yet, the Manor was cold.
Hunter made his way to the kitchen for his first cup of coffee. He sat at the counter, nursing the steaming mug. He waited for the regret to kick in. In general Hunter enjoyed women and never worried about hurt feelings, he never hung around long enough. But Sophie was, well, a friend - and in a moment when he’d been mad with loss he had used her.
Although ashamed about the circumstances, he didn’t regret it, nor did he want to scarper. He hated to admit it, but everyone had been right: he wanted her, cold, unyielding, frustrating Sophie.
Strangely he did feel guilt. That after professing to love Charlotte for so long, he suddenly dared to have a new focus in his life when he should be concerned with mourning.
It was over an hour later when Hunter gained company. Sophie hovered in the doorway.
“Morning.” She said quietly, for once looking completely uncertain.
“Morning.” Hunter echoed.
Sophie made herself a drink then sat opposite Hunter, her gaze averted. They sat in an increasingly uncomfortable silence.
“Look.” Hunter finally started. “I wanted to apologise. My behaviour yesterday was unforgivable; I should never have taken advantage of you like that. I’m sorry.”
“Oh.” The single sound was the only reply Sophie could muster. She stared down at her hands, frowning as per usual.
‘Oh’? Hunter was used to much wittier and informative responses from Sophie. He didn’t like not knowing where he stood with her, he’d rather face her anger than try to be sufficed with a little ‘Oh’.
The silence grew and Sophie offered nothing more, her face dark with her private thoughts. Oh dear, this was uncomfortable, bordering on embarrassing. Hunter didn’t deal with that sort of thing, especially when work was likely to be involved. If Sophie didn’t want him, Hunter would have to rethink this living and working arrangement.
Sophie stared into her the steaming coffee, her fingers gripping the mug so tightly that they were turning white.
"That's fine. I understand that you just needed a distraction. So glad to prove useful." She finally answered bitterly, her eyes snapped up to him, cold and furious.
Hunter was a little shocked by her response and sat quietly, his early morning brain trying to catch up. And poor Sophie took his silence as agreement. She sighed, muttering something beneath her breath and sliding off the stool, only thinking of taking her coffee to the privacy of her own room.
"Is that really what you think?" Hunter asked, standing up to block her way out of the kitchen. "That you were just convenient and distracting?"
Sophie reluctantly met his gaze, her anger fading and replaced by what had caused it - fear of the unknown.
Hunter reached out, gently catching her by the arm to stop her from bolting. "I'd never dare think so low of you, Sophie. In fact, the truth is that I think about you more than I should, and I am only sorry that it took the shock of hallowe'en to make me act."
Sophie just continued to stare up at him, her breath increasing in rate, as her eyes dilated as her agitation grew. Obviously Hunter's new answer was no more welcome that his previous one. But then it was suddenly as if she made a decision, to take the risk and the consequences. Sophie leant in closer towards Hunter and kissed him hesitantly.
Sensing that she was no longer about to hit him or storm out, Hunter kissed her back, pulling her in til he could feel the warmth of her body and -
And then he pulled back sharply, swearing and shaking his hand where he'd spilt the hot coffee she'd been nursing so protectively. Hunter shook his head at how smoothly that had gone, then chuckled at an afterthought.
"James is not going to like this." He said guiltily, not wanting to think how uncomfortable his best friend would be feeling. Hunter smiled at Sophie, taking her hot drink from her and setting it firmly on the side before trying that kiss again.
Fifteen
The next few days were a blur. There were the inevitable visits by the MMC. They questioned Hunter and James over and over about Hallowe’en. Poor Sophie had been grilled by several ‘experts’, trying to understand the Shadow Witch; whether Sophie was in danger; even whether Sophie was dangerous.
The Council had finally been scared into action, pulling people off mundane tasks and setting them to research and defence. When they came to Astley Manor with a long list of work for the resident witch-hunters, Hunter set his mother on them; they got the hint and didn’t come back.
Hunter wasn’t ready to face the world and didn’t have the energy to survive it. He would happily have disappeared into nothingness. Only his new closeness to Sophie made him want to live.
Then one morning Hunter, Sophie and James finally left the Manor, all three dressed in black. It was a cold November day, with the first proper frosts of the year. Hunter felt Sophie shiver and he held her closer as they all stood in the graveyard, a silent crowd gathered, their breath fogging over the prayers.
It wasn’t that long ago that they’d all been standing over another funeral, when Brian’s death had seemed the worst thing to ever happen.
The crowd slowly departed, people stopping to say their own goodbyes, and to console the inconsolable widower. Hunter looked up. Steve stood by the graveside, his tall, thin figure swamped by the heavy black coat, his eyes so red from crying.
“Steve, I’m so sorry.” Hunter said, finding himself walking up to Charlotte’s husband.
Whack! Hunter recoiled in shock as timid Steve punched him squarely in the face. Through watering eyes, Hunter saw Steve rub his sore knuckles.
“You have no right to be here Hunter!” Steve shouted, ignorant of the other mourners that turned and stared. “It’s all your fault - you got her into witch-hunting, you were supposed to protect her. Leave. If I ever see you again, I swear I’ll kill you.”
Hunter was dragged away by both Sophie and James. He shouldn’t have expected anything else from Steve. But now that Charlotte was laid to rest, Hunter was ready to get back in the action. Everything would work out, it had to, especially when he had James and Sophie still with him.