The Witchfinder Wars (15 page)

"Damn it, Tommy! Let it burn! Don't let them
get you too!"

Then he was there, scrambling up to meet me.
Those hands of his wrapping around me as his lips found mine to
connect us. The cord binding us together recoiled until it was
nothing more than a single unit to hold us, one against the
other.

I had to let him go. It wasn't fair to him
if I stole him away from the life he was supposed to lead. My tears
slowed while the heaviness in my eyes allowed sleep to take
over.

The darkness descended.

As it hovered over me, I let him go.

***

Nothing had ever been as beautiful as the
field where I found myself. Nothing of the earth, at least. The
soft green grasses tickled my feet with each step as the flowers
lining my path parted with the simple brush of my hand. It was
peaceful here. Quiet. I was sure somehow, I had died during the
night.

The field flowed into the banks of a river.
I walked to the place where a woman waited and stopped only when I
had reached her side. When she turned and smiled, it took my breath
away.

The woman was older than I was, but younger
than Ivy and Evie. Her pale blonde hair was pulled away from bright
blue eyes that glistened in the moonlight reflected from the water.
The skin on her exposed arms shimmered when they reached for me. I
went into them as if I belonged there.

Welcome, child
.

The voice from my head. I recognized it as
soon as the silver bells tolled, and with it, the Goddess. My arms
released Her as I bowed before her.

"Great Mother..." I whispered.

The goddess I had been taught to worship
chuckled as She ran her fingers through my hair. She sat down on
the grasses next to me.

Sit here with me, Anya.

My motions were awkward and unsteady next to
her fluid grace. Her beauty left me breathless, so I was sure my
notion of dying had not been accurate. The grasses beneath us
became like small living things when I looked downward. I wasn't
worthy of this.

Why is that, Annie?

I looked up to her in puzzlement. The
question was a loaded one. To answer would have taken forever.
Forever is exactly what She had, but I did not.

"Forgive me..." I muttered, casting my eyes
away from Her loveliness.

Why do you question your abilities so?

My mouth opened but nothing came out of it.
In the real world, I could have given her a million reasons. Here,
there were none. This was a place created by magic, so my denials
of it were futile. She waited until I found some way to respond,
some way to answer, useless though it was.

"Because...magic is of the mind. It's
in
the mind, Great Mother. You can't touch it. Can't see
it." I shrugged as the grass moved against my fingers. "You can
only feel it and hope for the best."

Ah...I see.

The glorious creature smiled despite my
doubts.

But if you don't believe, then why do you
continue to come to me?

Again, I was silenced. I felt like a child
who had been caught doing something she shouldn't. So I stared at
the waters of the river beside us instead of meeting Her eyes.

It doesn't matter, child. You are mine, as I
am yours.

Her arms opened up and She pulled my head
down to rest against Her shoulder. There was too much peace here to
cry, but I wanted to. It was too much, too easy to be forgiven.

We sat in silence for a while before She
spoke again.

Things are changing fast for you, Annie. I
want you to listen.

I nodded. This was something I already knew,
something I had known for some time, but had not wanted to admit.
But I still wasn't sure if I wanted to hear it.

You will come to believe. Your spell tonight
has triggered events now far out of your control. Your mother is
right to want to keep you, but her heart is not where it should be.
Be wary of their plans, child, your mother and her twin. Don't be
convinced when they say they know what is right for you.

She laid Her head against mine for an
instant before standing. I wanted nothing more than to be held by
Her again. She began to walk away, then turned and smiled at
me.

I can't keep this from you, Anya. Your
spell tonight did not work. I cannot grant your wish to set him
free. Tommy Hopkins has been bound to you since both your souls
were created. There is nothing you, or he, can do to change that.
Bound forever and forever shall ye be. Things are changing for him
too, child. Too fast for either of you to really understand. But
you will forgive him. You'll see
.

Those words were the last She left me with
as Her stately form glistened and blended into the moonscape. I was
alone in the beautiful place of my dreams with nothing more than
the echoes of her voice to comfort me.

Chapter Ten

Tommy

Clay had moved into and taken over my Dad's
office about five minutes after he and Kinsey arrived. At first it
had bothered me, a lot, but after all, Dad had never used the
enormous room, or seen it even, at least as far as I knew. So I
tried to forget about it, not let it get to me. One good thing
about traveling around a lot; I don't allow myself to get too
attached to things I can't take with me. Houses are places to live,
that's all.

I paused in the doorway.

"Come in, Tommy!" Clay's deep voice boomed
out at me from across the room. He was lounging in a massive chair
behind the long desk.

He'd made some changes, even though he
hadn't been around much due to those mysterious 'emergencies' he
kept getting called out on. The floor-to-ceiling shelves behind the
big mahogany desk, empty when I'd first seen the room, were now
stuffed and cluttered and overflowing with files and metal boxes
and computer disks and books, lots of books, some of them new but
some of them looking pretty old. To the right of the door where I
stood were rows of tall filing cabinets, back to back, all shiny
black but dinged up like they'd been moved around a lot. The room
reeked of Clay's cigars and I could smell an underlying hint of
whiskey and some other odor I couldn't identify.

There was no one in the room but Clay, or at
least so I thought. But when I entered and walked to stand behind
the chair he pointed out to me, opposite the desk, Kinsey came out
from between a row of the cabinets. My cousin had a grey folder in
his hand, fat with papers, the WFG Ltd. logo on it in a darker grey
surrounded with thin lines of gold and black.

"Kinsey." I nodded. "Haven't seen you
lately."

He looked at me without saying a word or
even acknowledging that I'd spoken, and I wondered how we could be
related. Clay had the usual Hopkins coloring, blonde hair, blue
eyes, just like Dad, me and the girls, but Kinsey was dark, hair,
skin and eyes. Especially his eyes; they were so brown they looked
black, which made the white surrounding them look almost
fluorescent. He had a long narrow face and a high, narrow forehead
and his hair was buzzed so short I could see his scalp.

"How are you, cousin?" he said finally, with
a tone that states, as clear as can be, 'not that I care'.

"Fine. Considering."

I took the seat opposite Clay and looked at
him.

He looked rough. His face was redder and his
eyes were more bloodshot, and I couldn't see even a hint of Dad in
him now, much less Grand. I'd never met my grandfather—he'd died
right around the time my dad got married—but I wondered if he'd
been like Clay.

"We've got a lot of things to discuss,
Tommy," Clay said as he leaned back in his expensive chair. Even
though it was almost new, I could see burns crisscrossing the sleek
leather armrests. "Your father was woefully lax in his job."

"My father was an excellent director of
WFG," I snapped, trying to hold down my anger.

"Oh, yes, the company grew and made money on
his watch, that's for sure." Clay waved his hand, the one holding
an unlit cigar, around like 'growth' and 'making money' were
incidentals instead of the reason a business, any business,
existed. "WFG has been around for centuries, did you know
that?"

"WFG Ltd. was started by the son of a man
called Matthew Hopkins—the son's name was Matthew too—in 1666, in
London," I said. "I've read the histories. I did a report on the
company for a school project in ninth grade."

From behind me, I could hear Kin snicker.
"Ninth grade," he murmured, as if it was some sort of esoteric sect
he didn't understand or believe in. ''Really."

"Ah, yes indeed, the history of the company.
I've got an idea. Why don't you tell me what you discovered in your
research, Tommy?" Clay dropped his cigar in an overflowing ashtray
and leaned back.

"Okay," I said, wondering where this was
going. "It's not a pretty story, but I'm sure plenty of businesses
and companies have had just as murky beginnings. Hopkins—the first
Matthew Hopkins, the father of the guy who started WFG—was some
sort of minor official, maybe a lawyer or something in the town
government, in Colchester; that's in the southwest of England,
right on the coast. He got the money that allowed his oldest son to
start WFG when there was an outbreak of witchcraft in the area. Of
course, Hopkins Senior reported the outbreak himself, so you can't
help but wonder a little if it was all a set up. Anyway, Hopkins,
assisted by an associate named John Stearne, created a position for
himself called Witchfinder General. Kind of flashy, but I'm sure he
impressed the locals while he hunted down harmless old ladies and
brought them in for questioning. Naturally, everyone he arrested
was found guilty—"

"Naturally," Clay said.

"—since he tortured all of them to make sure
they confessed. I think there were eighteen or twenty hanged, and
some more died in prison, from the effects of the torture probably.
Matthew took everything they owned, plus his salary, which was
plenty. The whole deal only lasted a few months. Funny thing was,
though, one of the so-called witches cursed him and he died in pain
just a couple of years later."

Clay cocked his head sideways. It was not a
good look for his double chin.

"Cursed him, and so he died? Sounds like
you're a believer, Tommy."

"In witchcraft? You've got to be kidding
me!" I smiled at the thought, but the smile felt kind of uneasy on
my face. Suddenly, I remembered Jordan and his crew teasing Anya,
calling her witch.

No. No way. In this century?

"No, there aren't any witches; never were,"
I continued, "but Hopkins sure made out like a bandit. Still, seems
like he learned his lesson. He left all his money to his son
Matthew, with orders to 'seek out and recompense those I have so
sorrowfully wronged' so he maybe wasn't such a bad guy after all.
Then the second Matthew took the money with him to London and
started up a business doing all sorts of things, buying and selling
and trading, a business that became WFG Ltd. about two hundred
years later. The records state he actually followed up on some of
the families of the women his dad had murdered, so he must have
been a pretty decent guy himself. WFG is still going strong; still
helping people; still making tons of money; end of story."

I wiped my hands together like I was
brushing them clean.

"It's an interesting way to start a company,
I guess."

"What does WFG do now, Tommy?" Clay asked in
a questioning tone, as if he had no idea and really wanted to
know.

I sighed. I didn't enjoy being patronized, I
wasn't enjoying this little game, but he was my uncle and Grand's
son, so I owed him at least a little respect.

"One of the most important projects is the
clinics. WFG builds clinics and hospitals in all corners of the
globe," I began, sounding even to myself like one of our
promotional brochures.

"Yes, we do. But how does WFG pay for those
clinics and hospitals, Tommy?"

The guy was really getting on my nerves, but
I played along. "WFG is constantly researching, looking for the
newest and best sources of clean, sustainable, renewable power. We
help revive towns that have lost their main industries, just like
this town, Manning. We're one of the largest multi-national
businesses on the planet, with yearly revenues in the trillions of
dollars. And we're still a family-owned business in this era of
takeovers and mergers, and we've got the quaint and charming saying
'there's always a Matthew Hopkins in charge of WFG' which is why
one of my names is Matthew."

"And we hunt witches," Kinsey said behind
me.

"Sure. Ha. Ha. Just like the original Matt,
right?"

"No, not just like him," Clay said, and he
actually looked serious. "We've gone a little more high tech than
looking for the devil's mark or throwing them into holy water to
see if they float. Witches. Let me define that term a little for
you, Tommy. And no; I'm not kidding," he said when I opened my
mouth to speak. "Not kidding in the least. However, I am shocked
your father never told you any of this."

"My father was sane, unlike some of his
relatives I could mention," I said through gritted teeth.
"Apparently, you guys are both about a sandwich short of a
picnic."

Clay just grinned. "Now, Tommy, don't be
insulting. Your grandmother taught you better manners than that,
I'm sure. Witches do exist, and WFG has been seeking them out for
over two hundred and fifty years now. You could say, in fact, WFG's
money and power are based on witchcraft."

Behind me, Kinsey laughed, a nasty little
sound that creeped me out.

"Uh huh," I said. "Have you guys had your
meds checked lately? I think the dosage might be off a little."

"Let me clarify a few things, Tommy," Clay
said in a tone like he was trying to explain nuclear physics to a
puppy. "WFG does all the things you've said, yes. We help out a lot
of people. But the most important thing we do? WFG finds witches.
We take them into protective custody so we can siphon off their
amazingly dangerous abilities—and they do have them, Tommy, don't
you doubt it—to create that 'clean, renewable, sustainable' energy
you spoke of so movingly. We tap into a vast power source and use
it; we study them and we take the information they've tried so long
to keep hidden so we can share it with the whole world, instead of
having it in the hands of a miserly few. WFG does a lot of good on
this old planet, Tommy. I know you agree with that. Jobs,
medicines, energy that won't destroy us with its by-products. We're
a good, strong, ethical company, Tommy. And you're going to be
running the company soon, very soon."