*****
The offices of the Oxford Branch of the MMC hardly stood out. There was very little to differentiate between them and the other boring buildings that neighboured it. James had offered to take the recent deposits of files and amulets, but Hunter had insisted on doing it. After that last witch, James was still burnt and concussed. It was rather funny really, Hunter noticed that whenever good old James got concussed his Yorkshire accent got so bad that you could hardly understand the poor bloke. Besides, Hunter wanted to drop in and see Charlotte.
He knocked on the door and went in. “Hey, I brought flowers.”
He handed over the bunch of yellow roses and looked at Charlotte with concern. She was always beautiful, but there was a strain in her face and she emanated tiredness.
“I - I came to see if you’d found anything?” Hunter asked, jumping straight to the point.
“Oh Hunter, they’re lovely.” Charlotte replied, taking them and breathing in the fresh scent. But then she shook her head. “I haven’t found anything. I’m sorry, but I haven’t had the time. We’ve had more bound witches to process this month than… well, than ever. Executions are down and bindings have shot up.” She frowned and gently stroked the petals of a flower. “And we’re short staffed. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Diane was killed, along with her family. She didn’t turn up for work on Monday. They found her in the family home. Rick and little Josie, too.”
Her eyes teared up, but she blinked them away. Everyone died, it was just a question of when.
“Oh, I didn’t mean that the short-staffing was the worst thing. I meant… You know what I meant.” Charlotte added, feeling worse the whole time.
“I’m sorry.” Hunter murmured, feeling useless.
Charlotte closed her eyes and took a deep breath, settling her nerves. “We all know the dangers of working for the MMC, we know what we’ve signed up for. But sometimes you forget, just for a moment you forget and become attached to someone…”
Hunter watched Charlotte as she purposefully kept her eyes focused on the flowers, the timid nature of her voice only confirming how close to tears she was. Noting the redness around her eyes, Hunter wondered how many times she had cried for her colleague today.
Hunter felt a stab of guilt at how easily Charlotte acknowledged the danger they were all in. It wasn’t a lie that, if she had never met him, she would be a valued lawyer somewhere. She never would have heard of witches and the Malleus Maleficarum Council.
Instead, she had joined the Oxford offices, and over the last few years Hunter had to watch her ascend to an important position. Hunter had wondered whether the quick ascension was only due to the Council realising what a bright star they had with Charlotte; or were they trying to mollify him.
“The funeral is on Friday, will you be there?” Charlotte asked, breaking his train of thought.
Hunter inwardly winced. He hated going to funerals, especially as there were so many in their line of work. They didn’t help anyone, it was only one more occasion to feel awkward on.
Hunter could probably get away with not going, no one would dare openly say anything about his absence. But his absence would be noted, the famous Hunter Astley, unable to respect the passing of one of their own.
“I’ll try.” He finally answered, less than convincingly.
Charlotte’s normally soft brown eyes were a little colder as she regarded him, a slight pout to her lips. “I’ll text you and James the address.”
Getting James involved was a threat. It was only one level lower than threatening to involve his mother.
Hunter grimaced, trying again. “We’ll be there.”
He stayed for a short while, then made his excuses and left. He could fight, kill if need be, but he couldn’t face sorrow. Not even when one of his best friends needed his comfort.
Five
The call came just past midnight. Hunter set off immediately, picking up James on the way. They roared along the empty roads at 90mph, screw speed cameras and police, they had to get there.
Less than an hour later they screeched to a halt, both breathless with fear.
Hunter had been here only a month ago, but Brian’s house was unrecognisable. The garden was all torn up and half of the house had fallen down, the rest was charred and still steaming.
Someone ran up as they saw them approach. The man was white-faced. “Hunter Astley? I’m Mathew Jones, 3rd gen.” His voice cracked and he held out a shaky hand.
Hunter dragged his gaze away from the ruins. He shook hands, his actions robotic. “Brian?” He barely managed to ask.
The other man shook his head.
Hunter felt as though he had suffered a physical blow to his chest. Yes, it was a dangerous life and they were all living on borrowed time, but how could Brian be gone? He was the strong one, the survivor.
“Th-there was a girl.” James finally spoke up, forcing his voice to steady. “An apprentice, Sophie.”
Mr Jones got a hold of his emotions again. “Yes, she’s alive. The ambulance took her away an hour ago. A few minor injuries, she was very lucky.”
“What happened?” Hunter asked.
“We don’t know for sure. Must’ve been a big coven, to do this much damage. Hopefully the apprentice can tell us more. I‘ll take you both to the hospital with me, if you want.”
Hunter nodded. Yes, they should go to the hospital, see Sophie. But first, Hunter went up to the house. A couple of MMC staff came to warn him it wasn’t safe (as if he needed telling), but let him go in, lending him a torch.
The blast must have been something fierce. Its source in the study, there was nothing left of this part of the house - walls, furniture, books - they were ash alike. Hunter stood amongst the rubble, the place throbbed with magic. Who the hell had this much power?