Witch Hunt
Authors: Devin O'Branagan
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Horror, #Occult
“
Witch Hunt
has a riveting storyline that will keep you turning the pages late into the night. O’Branagan has skill at developing characters and suspense.”
— Rocky Mountain News
“A superb examination of the corrupting influence of power: political, social, economic, religious, and sexual power.
Witch Hunt
works well on several different levels, and the story comes very close to being a modern religious and political allegory.”
—
2AM Magazine
“
Witch Hunt
is an outstanding book which grabs you right from the beginning.”
—
Midnight Zoo
“O’Branagan is a very talented writer, and the only problem with her work is that she doesn’t write fast enough! Very highly recommended ...”
—
New Leaf
“
Witch Hunt
is an entertaining novel, steeped in metaphysical detail and filled with witch and spiritual lore.”
— Locus
Also by Devin O’Branagan:
Devin O’Branagan
Cornucopia Creations, Ltd.
First Edition of
Witch Hunt
published 1990 by Simon & Schuster’s Pocket Books
Second Edition of
Witch Hunt
published 2010 by Cornucopia Creations, Ltd.
German edition of
Witch Hunt
published 1993 by Heyne Verlag
Turkish edition of
Witch Hunt
published 2012 by Dogan Egmont
This novel is dedicated to all those souls who have been, and continue to be, persecuted in the name of religion.
First Witch
:
When shall we three meet again,
In thunder, lightning or in rain?
Second Witch
:
When the hurlyburly’s done,
When the battle’s lost and won.
—
Shakespeare
, Macbeth, Act I, Scene I
Summer
Montvue, Colorado
Preacher Alexander Cody was afraid. He hadn’t been afraid since Afghanistan — when he rescued an American diplomat held by insurgents. But God had claimed him in his moment of fear, and, from that time on, he had never been weak of spirit again — until now, on this airplane.
His wife, Rachel, sat in the aisle seat next to him, holding their baby daughter Eden in the crook of her left arm. She sneaked her right hand into his, and it wasn’t long before the sweat from their palms became intimate. Embarrassed by his own evidence of fear, Cody stared out the window at the night sky and tried to avoid her gaze, but once she managed to capture it in the glass’s reflection and give him a wan smile. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t return her attempt at solace. Instead he averted his eyes and prayed, promising God the sacrifice of anything — even his delicious lust for Rachel — if only He wouldn’t let the plane crash.
The plane recoiled from the fury of the wind with another explosive shudder, and the cabin lights blinked, then failed. Cody gasped at the sudden darkness, and muffled screams filled the air.
There were sixteen passengers on the short red-eye commuter flight, which had originated in Colorado Springs and was headed to Montvue, Colorado. Cody and Rachel were in seats that faced Alan and Curtis Hawthorne. Cody knew them to be father and son, both of Montvue’s most prestigious law firm, Hawthorne and Hunter. Cody was glad that the darkness now shielded his haunted face from the view of these important men. He had a reputation to protect. It was his reputation that allowed him to reach so many people and spread the Lord’s truth.
Alexander Cody had been in the Special Forces in Afghanistan, where he barely survived an explosion that resulted in years of skin grafts, plastic surgery, physical therapy, and, most of all, pain.
Cody ran his hands over his face. The scars were no longer visible — the surgeons had actually turned him into a handsome man — but he knew how he looked beneath the mask. He would never forget.
It was when he had returned to Afghanistan as a
CIA
operative that the miracle happened. There, in the first field action he had seen since his injuries, he froze with terror. In that moment of inner blackness in the Afghani desert, he had — for the first time in his life — reached out to a higher power, and it claimed him. He found God, and everything changed.
Now he was the most successful Christian preacher on television, the Internet, and in bookstores. He was one of God’s chosen. So why, he wondered, was he so scared?
The captain’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “Ladies and gentlemen, Captain Cassel again.” His voice sounded hearty and reassuring. “Don’t panic, we’re doing just fine. There’s no denying it’s a hell of a storm — these Rocky Mountain showers tend to hit unexpectedly and be a bit rugged — but I’ve flown through worse, no problem. We’ll be landing at Montvue in about five minutes. Sorry there aren’t any lights for you ladies to fix your faces by. Captain out.”
The tension relaxed somewhat.
Generally peeved by the whole situation, Cody decided to file a formal complaint with the airline about the captain’s use of profanity.
The cabin lit up from without. The flash of lightning illuminated Curtis Hawthorne’s calm face. How could this man — whom Cody had heard wasn’t the slightest bit religious — not be as frightened as he?
Darkness returned.
“Aunt Glynis told me at breakfast that she dreamed of the Salazar curse,” Curtis Hawthorne said.
There was a moment of silence.
Alan Hawthorne’s voice was gruff. “Glynis is imaginative.”
“Dad?”
“Yes.”
“I love you.”
The plane began to descend.
The lights of the landing field were blurred by sheets of rain, but Cody felt a wave of relief when he saw them.
Another streak of lightning appeared out of the night sky, and Cody watched in stunned horror as it struck the right wing of the plane. The
bright light triggered a flashback to the explosion he had survived. For a split second he smelled burning flesh.
The jet trembled from the blow, a crash of thunder drowned out the sound of the engines, and the plane started to rock. Bile rose in Cody’s throat, adrenaline surged through his body, and a sense of unreality flooded him. “God, this can’t be happening.”
Shrill cries filled the cabin.
The rocking became more pronounced, and one of the wings hit the ground. Cody’s perception of reality shifted to slow motion as the jet casually flipped over.
Secured to his seat, he clawed at the air in a vain effort to halt events. The high-pitched whine of the engines and the sound of crunching metal filled his ears. Hand luggage sailed past his head. The runway lights illuminated the cabin with an eerie glow, and he watched as Curtis’s head slammed up against the cabin wall and dark blood splattered. Next to him, Alan’s seat buckled, and Cody imagined he could hear the old man’s back snap as his body twisted. Rachel, her face glistening with tears, clutched the baby to her bosom and kept yelling Cody’s name, but he couldn’t respond.
The inverted jet skidded down the runway shrouded in a veil of sparks any one of which Cody knew could start a fire. Fire was the enemy that lay in wait for him, eager to complete the kill it had attempted before. He could already feel its eager tongue licking his face once again.
After what seemed like an eternity, the plane’s movement ceased. There was a moment of silence within the cabin, and then it was filled with chaos. People shrieked in terror, fell from their seats, and scrambled to find a way out. Cody unhooked himself from his seat and dropped to the ceiling beneath him.
“Help us!” Rachel was unable to release herself because she was clinging to Eden, but Cody didn’t care. He just wanted to get out before the fire started … before the hungry beast ate him alive. The other passengers watched in obvious disgust as he pushed an old man out of his way and dodged for the emergency exit across the aisle, which now rested under the wing of the plane. Someone was already there, trying to open it, and Cody pushed him out of his way as well. He tried the latch, but it was jammed.
“Alex, help us!” Rachel’s voice was desperate.
Ignoring her, Cody made his way to the front of the plane and tried the door to the cockpit. It was locked from the inside, and the pilot didn’t respond to his pounding.
He raced back to Rachel’s seat and reached up underneath it, fishing for her hard, carry-on suitcase.
“Why won’t you help us, Alex?” Rachel struggled to open the seat belt with one hand while trying to hold on to the squirming baby with the other. She kicked at his head, but he dodged her.
Cody found the case and slammed it against the window. He heard something crack and grew hopeful, but then realized it was the suitcase, not the glass, that had broken. A sob escaped him.
Curtis, apparently dazed from his head wound, released himself from his seat and lowered himself to the floor. His father’s chair dangled in the air, and Curtis made a move to release him.
“Don’t try to get me down. My back’s broken.” Alan paused. “The plane’s going to explode, son.”
Cody spun around and looked out the window, following Alan’s gaze.
Fire!
His sobs intensified when he saw the flaming engines.
Rachel whimpered.
Curtis moved to her and released her seat belt. He guided her and Eden down, then sank to the floor. “Dad … my head … I don’t know how long I can stay conscious, but I’ll keep the flames at bay. Can you help?”
“I’ll try,” Alan said.
Even in the midst of his terror, Cody registered their strange exchange. He crouched down and hugged himself as Curtis and Alan began to chant strange, unintelligible words. His sobs quieted as he became mesmerized by the sound of their two voices. He looked up and saw that their chanting also captivated Rachel. He glanced out the window at the engines and saw the flames ebb.
Cody felt as if he were floating. The noise and commotion of the other passengers faded away. He wondered if he were dying. He felt a strong presence of warmth and love, a sense of comfort and reassurance. “I love you, too, Mommy,” he whispered before losing track of time.
A loud pounding outside the hull startled him. Someone had arrived to help. He jumped to his feet. He could see no rescue vehicles yet, but it looked like people had driven out from the small terminal. He rushed past Rachel and Eden and ran to the emergency exit door. “It’s jammed!” he yelled at them through the glass. “The door is jammed!”
One of the men ran to a car and removed a crowbar from its trunk. He returned and pried at the door from the outside.
Cody looked around. Curtis was now chanting alone; his father was unconscious. As his voice became noticeably weaker, the flames outside grew stronger. The correlation struck Cody, and a different kind of fear filled him. Curtis and Alan had actually been controlling the fire. How could anyone do such a thing? What were these men? They could only be in league with the Devil; Satan’s servants, using his vile powers in an attempt to save themselves. His breath came in labored gasps.
He thought about his own pitiful behavior. Why had he been such a coward? Had these people cast a spell over him and stolen his faith? That would explain it. Rachel saw and heard their sorcery. She would understand what they had done to him. He hyperventilated. He had to escape.
The Hawthornes seemed to be in the possession of infernal, supernatural abilities. Their powers were more than human beings had the right to possess. The angel Lucifer had been damned to hell because of his willful imitation of God; how much more heinous a crime to be a mere human being daring to do the same?
In that moment Cody made a vow to God that, if he survived, he would uncover the truth behind the Hawthornes’ sorcery and reveal it to the world. He would succeed, because God had given him that power.
The emergency door opened. Before Cody fled, he looked back and saw Curtis slump into unconsciousness. The flames instantly billowed up into the night air.
Eleven passengers managed to escape the wreckage before the plane exploded.
