The Witchfinder Wars (7 page)

Then I laid down on my bed and looked at the
ceiling and wondered what would happen to us all. Thoughts chased
themselves around my head when what I really wanted was to shut
down and just sleep, just forget; but I couldn't. So I kept
thinking of stuff, useless stuff, crazy stuff, anything to keep my
mind off of the image of a big pile of dirt and rocks sitting on
top of Dad.

Orphans. Me and the twins were orphans. I
wasn't going to let Joselyn and Jacqueline go anywhere else; not my
sisters. We all had to stay together. Grand would stay with us, I
knew, and there was lots of money.

I guessed so anyway. I never asked Dad how
much he made or how much he had or even, really, everything WFG
Ltd. did. I knew from some research I did for a school essay. WFG
was into alternative power, research hospitals, clinics and all
sorts of other things. Multi-national conglomerate; the definition,
I guess, of a company which did a lot of different things all over
the world.

There was the rest of the Hopkins family. I
had an uncle and an aunt on Dad's side. Uncle Clay—Esmund
Claybourne Hopkins—was next to my Dad in age, and he had a son just
a few months younger than me named Kinsey, called Kin, as well as
twin boys who were about my sisters' age. I couldn't remember what
the twins' names were, but I was pretty sure Uncle Clay's wife was
dead. Our paths hadn't crossed much in the last couple of
years.

Dad's sister was named Emily, and she was
married to a guy named Charlie Franklin. They lived in Australia
with all their kids—seven, last I heard—on a big sheep ranch. I
think they call them sheep stations down under. We'd visited a few
years back; rode horses and stuff. Fun.

I wondered if anything would ever be fun
after this.

A knock at the door.

I ignored it.

"Tommy?" Grand called. "Tommy, we need to
talk. I've got some things I need to tell you."

"I really don't feel like it right now,
Grand."

"I'm sorry. Neither do I. But this is
important."

I sat up on the bed and my head started
swimming. Not surprising. I couldn't remember the last time I ate,
and I saw by my bedside clock it was almost midnight. I stumbled to
the door and unlocked it. Grand almost drifted inside, like she had
lost about a hundred pounds in the last few hours and was about to
float away. I had a sudden impulse to grab her and hold her down,
before I lost her too.

I did take her arm and lead her to the
biggest chair in my room, the one near the window seat. I settled
her into it before sitting on the floor in front of her with one
leg bent up and the other twisted under me.

I waited while she wiped her eyes with a
handkerchief.

Then she did it again.

"What is it, Grand?" I asked after a
little.

Grand leaned toward me.

"Tommy, your Uncle Clay is on his way."

I nodded. "Okay. What about Aunt Emily?"

Grand looked confused for a minute, like
she'd forgotten she even had a daughter, much less one named Emily.
Then she shook her head.

"No, Tommy, Clay's not coming because of
your father's death." She gave a funny, hollow little laugh. "Well,
yes; because of your father's death, certainly. But this isn't the
gathering of the clan for the funeral or whatever the original
Hopkins did when one of their own died. This is business. The
family business."

"I get it," I said, even though I didn't.
"Uncle Clay is something or other in WFG and he's coming here to
take care of some business stuff, right?"

"Not exactly." Grand wiped her eyes again.
Her handkerchief looked like she'd used it to wipe up a spilled cup
of water, it was so wet. "Tommy, what did Spenser," she stopped and
sniffed hard, then continued, "what did your father ever tell you
about WFG?"

"Not very much, Grand. Oh, I've looked WFG
up and I did a report on it in ninth grade, so I'm not a complete
dummy about Dad's company. Why?"

"Tommy," said Grand, all kind of solemn,
"you're the next in line. You're going to take over the company
now. Remember: There's always a Matthew Hopkins in charge of WFG
Ltd."

"Whoa! Wait a minute, Grand!" I slid back,
like she was threatening me with a knife or something. "I'm still
in high school, remember. Heck, I won't even be eighteen for five
more months. How can I attend board meetings and, and..."

I stopped, mostly because I wasn't really
sure what Dad did, or what any director of a company did, for that
matter.

Grand was shaking her head, slow, back and
forth.

"I tried talking to...your father, many
times. I told him you needed to know more, that it wasn't fair to
you to keep you in the dark about WFG. He kept saying, 'There's
plenty of time' and changing the subject. I should have made him. I
should have put my foot down and insisted. But he...you know how
much he suffered when he lost your mother, Tommy. But you don't
know everything. He—he almost went insane from the shock, the
pain." Grand wiped her eyes again and I scrambled up to find her a
fresh handkerchief. When I sat back down, she continued, "He loved
her so much, Tommy, so much. And, I think, in many ways...he blamed
himself for her death."

"But, she died, I mean, when the twins were
born," I protested. "I don't know the, uh, medical stuff, but I
know Dad. Mom would have had the best medical care in the
world."

"She did," Grand nodded. "I think it was
more Spenser felt WFG took too much of his time, time he could have
spent with her...and his children. So, after her death, he went a
little...crazy. Oh, not locked-up-in-a-mental-ward crazy, I don't
mean that. It was like he hated the company, but he felt tied to
it. He wanted, he kept searching for, options, for other
alternatives, but the history of the Hopkins family was too strong.
He had to continue as director; he had no other choice. And he knew
that, eventually, you would have to do the same. But he didn't want
you to know...things. And now, to find out this way. It's just not
fair; it's not fair to you at all, Tommy."

"Grand, you're scaring me a little." I
laughed, to show I didn't mean it, but I did, kind of. "Okay, I'll
be on the WFG board and sign some papers and wear a suit to a
couple of meetings. Then someone else can take over. No big deal."
Then I remembered what Grand had said at first and felt a little
better. "Uncle Clay! That's why he's coming, right? To take over
WFG?"

"Tommy, dear," Grand said, "what does WFG
stand for?"

"Way Fantastic Gigantic?" I asked, trying to
cheer her up.

Or maybe myself.

"No, Tommy." Grand reached out and took my
head between her two hands; they were cold, so cold, so I put mine
on top of hers. "You know very well, Tommy, WFG stands for Witch
Finder General."

I laughed. "Grand, sure I know that. I did a
report, remember? It's a cool name, I'll grant you, but it doesn't
mean anything."

Grand shook her head. "But it does, Tommy.
It does. Witch Finder General. That's what WFG does; they find
witches. Find them, capture them, drain their power into
lodestones, and then sell the stone."

"Grand, listen, I'm almost eighteen," I
said, and for what seemed like the first time in my life, I was
almost angry at my grandmother. "Those are fairy tales. WFG deals
in energy, sure. But the company certainly doesn't get it from
witches. That's just not possible."

Grand shook her head slowly back and forth,
but all she said was, "I told Spenser. I told him. And now it's too
late."

Chapter Five

Anya

The dancing flames made the world a prettier
place. All the lines were blurred, brightened.

But I was melting.

For only a second, I wondered why the people
gathered around to watch looked as if they were the ones who were
melting instead of me. That second passed as I pressed back against
the rough wood holding me upright and prepared myself for
death.

I refused to show them any sign of my fear.
But I hoped they couldn't see me well through the flames. That they
wouldn't notice how white my face had gone against the fire
encircling me now.

"Annie!

A voice broke through that I would recognize
anywhere, though I'd only heard it for the first time that day.

Tommy...

That's when I started screaming. Not for him
to save me. It was too late; I knew I was going to die. A part of
me almost wished for it. No, I didn't want him to save me. I wanted
him to stay back. To keep away from the flames sure to engulf him
if he came any closer.

I could see him as clearly as I had earlier
in the day. His blonde hair disheveled; his face flushed from
running.

Running. That's what he was doing now.
Running straight toward me. Toward the fire.

The curious thing was the cord wrapped
around his chest, a cord sparkling in the light of the flames. A
thick shining silver cord, stronger than any chain. And I
recognized it. I followed the length of it and groaned as I saw
where the other end was leading him.

The other end was tied around me. Not to
hold me to the wood, but separate from the other restraints.

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

The words melded into screams again as I
warned him away from the funeral pyre. Crying out for him to stop,
telling him the flames weren't hurting me as much as they would
hurt him.

My screams cut off as he closed the distance
between us, crushing his lips against mine. It was then the world
disappeared and I forgot everything. The flames, the fear for him;
even the audience of melting people watching the destruction of
something they could never understand.

***

I woke up gasping against the scent of smoke
that seemed to slip through the thin veil keeping dreams separate
from reality. The pale blue numbers on my bedside clock announced I
was running late. I got up, rushed to straighten the room before
starting on myself.

The bruises were already starting to fade
but I threw on a long sleeve shirt to hide them. The mirror told me
all was decent, but I froze before I could turn away.

Tommy was there. Behind me. His eyes filled
with a sadness I couldn't comprehend.

"Tommy?"

I leaned forward to the glass and the image
it captured. He seemed to watch me as I studied him in turn, taking
in the details I hadn't seen yesterday.

The thick blonde of his hair contrasted
against the light bronze of his skin. His long arms were wrapped
around his chest as if to hold onto something precious. I wondered
if something had happened to make him seem so fragile despite the
strong athletic build and a frame much taller than I.

I continued to examine the image until I
could no longer avoid looking at his face. The look of utter defeat
clouding his blue eyes echoed across to my own the moment I saw
it.

I smiled sadly at him.

"It's gonna be okay, Tommy."

I knew if I turned, he would vanish as
quickly as he had appeared. So I held my place for as long as I
could stand the look in his eyes. It wasn't long.

My first response was a desire to run down
the hall and grab Evie so she could tell me I was going crazy. That
the image of a person couldn't appear behind me, reflected in a
mirror, when there was no one there. But I knew what I wanted would
never happen. She would praise me for such a premonition, claiming
it was a sign from the Goddess instead of the shattered remains of
a dream best forgotten.

That damned dream...

I tried to explain it away as a product of
Jordan's threats the day before. That my mind was taking the event
and turning it into more than it was. The problem was I knew
better. I knew what the cord in my dream meant for Tommy. I knew
what it meant for me.

The magic in my thoughts and words the night
before had become a reality. I had bound him to me, bound him
though no circle had been cast nor any herbs burned. I tried to
push the thought away, until anxiety took hold of my throat and
closed it.

Oh Goddess...what have I done?

I knew I should stay away from him until I
could figure out how to undo the magic which had been cast. But I
didn't know if I could do it. My treacherous heart told me not to
do anything in haste. Wait, see how he reacted before confirming
the magic was working.

If he wants anything to do with me in the
first place...

***

The first thing I noticed when I reached the
classroom was the somber mood everyone was in. The whispers around
me explained why Tommy's seat was empty.

Spenser Hopkins, the patriarch the town had
depended on to make the depression go away, was dead. The
newspapers carried the story of a landslide. His journey here had
become a trip he would never return from and, with his loss,
perhaps, the hopes of what WFG Ltd. could have done for the small
town of Manning were also gone.

I remembered Tommy's face in my mirror this
morning. Or at least the sadness in it.

Anger hit then as I looked at the faces of
those who were mourning the loss of the man who had come to save
them. They didn't care it was Tommy's father, the same boy they had
all fallen over just the day before.

It's all about the money. That's what they
want. It didn't matter who gives it to them. Just as long as it
happens...

A selfish fear threatened to overcome the
anger, and I wondered if I was any better than they were as the
questions taunted me.

What if I don't get to see him again? What
if he has to leave?

I shook the thoughts away. I could still
find a way to say thanks for what he did for me the day before.
Maybe I could do something to show him I didn't care about what
could have been.

Then I have to leave him alone. I have no
choice.