Witch Hunter (23 page)

grass is too low to offer cover. The only trees are in the

distance, but if we’re fast enough we might make it.

I grab Fifer’s sleeve and start towards them when I hear

it. Softly at first, then louder: the unmistakable thundering

noise of horses, their hooves pounding through the mud.

Whoever’s coming, they’re close. We won’t make it to the

trees before we’re spotted.

Fifer grabs my arm and yanks me to the ground.

‘What are you doing?’ I say. ‘They’re going to see—’

‘No, they’re not.’ She reaches into her cloak and pulls

out a long silk cord with three knots tied in it. I recognise it

immediately: a witch’s ladder. Witches use them when they

need to perform difficult or time-consuming spells quickly.

Their energy and power are stored in the cord, and they’re

released whenever a knot is untied. Blackwell showed us

what they were in training, how they worked.

I suppose he would know.

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Fifer yanks a small tuft of grass from the ground and

starts to untie one of the knots from the cord, her fingers

trembling as the sound of the hooves grows louder.

‘Enlarge.’ She flings the grass into the air. The

blades expand and shoot upward, forming an enormous

overgrown hedge. It’s at least four feet high and ten feet

long. The grass is so high it curls over on itself, thick enough

for us to hide under.

We crawl beneath it, pulling our cloaks and bags tightly

around us so they can’t be seen from the road. In the

distance, I see them: four men riding under the king’s

standard. Fifer watches them, wide-eyed. We both go still

and wait for them to pass.

They don’t. The horses slow to a canter, then a trot, then

stop completely, less than fifty feet from us.

‘I’ve had to piss for miles!’ grumbles one man. I hear his

feet splash in the mud as he dismounts his horse.

‘Hurry up and have done then. Nothing here is

stopping you.’

‘I’m coming, too,’ says another, slipping from his saddle.

The two men make their way across the field, heading

in our direction. They march straight up to our hedge, stop,

and proceed to unbutton their trousers. Fifer grimaces;

she looks horrified. I smile a little. I can’t help it. Pissing

men don’t bother me in the slightest. I was the only girl

among twenty other male witch hunters. I’ve pretty much

seen it all.

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‘So what do you think?’ one guard says.

‘Dunno,’ says the other. ‘Ten more miles, maybe?’

He shakes his head. ‘Bloody Stepney Green, middle

of nowhere—’

‘Not that. I’m talking about her.’

Her. They’re talking about me. Fifer shoots me a look.

She knows it, too. I stare at the guards through the hedge,

willing them not to say more.

‘Aye. But I wouldn’t worry too much,’ the guard

continues. ‘D’you really think Pace would send us if there

was any chance of her being there?’

Fifer’s expression turns to confusion.

Shut up, I plead silently. Shut up, shut up…

The other guard looks doubtful. ‘If you say so.’

‘I do. Look, she can’t be in three places at once. And if

you ask me, Stepney Green’s the least likely of all.’

Three places? Where else does Caleb think we are?

‘Even still. You’d think they’d at least send a witch

hunter with us.’

‘What for? You don’t think we can take a little girl?’

‘She’s not just a little girl.’

Fifer narrows her eyes at me. I shrug, as if I hear this sort

of thing every day. But my heart is pounding so hard it’s a

wonder they all can’t hear it.

‘She’s dangerous,’ the guard continues. ‘Who knows

what she’s capable of now that she’s with Nicholas Perevil.

I say we search the place as we’re supposed to and get out

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of here. If we find her, we’ll let Pace take care of her.’

‘You don’t have to tell me twice.’ The men button up

their trousers and turn to walk away.

I breathe a sigh of relief. That was close, I think.

Too close.

‘Hard to believe, isn’t it? That she’s a witch hunter and a

witch?’ He tuts. ‘Blackwell ought to be more careful about

who he recruits next time.’

Damnation.

I look at Fifer. She stares back at me, her expression

blank as a fish’s. I open my mouth to say – I don’t know

what – but she turns away, either in fright or disgust.

Probably both. She sits, unseeing, unmoving, as the

two guards join the others in the road. They mount their

horses and ride away, kicking up a fountain of mud in

their wake.

Damned bigmouthed idiots! I should have taken them

out when I had the chance. Well, it’s too late now. Nicholas

won’t be happy that Fifer found out about me, and neither

will George. Where is he, anyway? I’m going to need his

help managing Fifer when she snaps out of this daze she’s

in. She’s still staring blankly through the hedge. I slide out

from under the hedge to look for George. The second I do,

she pounces.

‘You’re a witch hunter!’ She shoves me to the ground

and jumps on top of me. ‘A goddamned witch hunter!’

‘Fifer! Stop!’ She’s hitting me now, punching my arms,

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my stomach, my face. I can’t fight back, not really. I’ll just

hurt her. Or worse, I’ll kill her. I grab her wrists to try to

stop her, but she yanks away and slaps my face and rakes

her fingernails down my cheek.

‘I could kill you! I will kill you! You—’ She lets out

a string of obscenities so blistering and outrageous I

actually start to laugh. Until she grabs a hank of my hair

and pulls. Hard.

I let out a yelp, and for a moment I forget I’m not

supposed to fight her. I grab her shoulders and fling her off

me. She tumbles into the grass, but she’s up in a flash,

cuffing me across the head so hard my ears ring. I jump on

top of her, and we start rolling around on the ground, both

of us slapping and pulling hair and screaming.

There’s a streak of movement in the distance, and

suddenly George is there, standing over us with a horrified

expression.

‘Oi!’ He hops around us, dodging our flailing bodies.

‘What the hell is going on?’

We keep fighting.

‘Would you two stop? Stop it, I say!’ George takes me by

the waist and pulls me off Fifer. She jumps up and flies at

me, her hands spread like claws. I catch her wrists, and the

three of us stagger around, reeling like drunkards in a brawl

before tumbling headlong into the hedge.

‘Peace, for God’s sake!’ George shouts, prying us apart.

‘What the hell is going on?’

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Fifer scrambles to her feet. ‘She’s a witch hunter!’ She

lunges for me again, her hands tightened into fists.

George grabs her before she can get to me.

‘What are you doing?’ she shrieks. ‘Go and get John!

We’ve got to kill her. Right now! He can, or you can. Or I’ll

do it myself!’ She pulls out her witch’s ladder.

‘You can’t kill her,’ George says.

‘Yes, I can!’ Her fingers fumble around a knot. ‘I’ll curse

her into a thousand pieces—’

George yanks it out of her hands. ‘D’you want Nicholas

to die?’

‘What?’ Fifer looks horrified. ‘No!’

‘That’s what will happen if you kill her. She’s the only

one who can find that tablet. You know that. So it shouldn’t

matter to you what she is. Witch hunter, demon, she could

be the devil for all you care.’

‘She is. She is the devil.’ Fifer seethes. ‘And you,’ she

rounds on George, jabbing her finger at him. ‘You’re awfully

calm about this. So help me, if you knew she was a witch

hunter and didn’t tell us…’

George and I exchange a rapid glance.

‘You knew,’ Fifer whispers. ‘You knew and you didn’t

tell me. Why? How could you do that to me? Or John?’ Her

eyes go wide. ‘Nicholas—’

George holds up a hand. ‘He knows. Of course he knows.

I didn’t tell you because he told me not to. Didn’t see any

reason for you to know.’

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‘No reason?’ Fifer screeches. ‘No reason to tell us she’s a

vile, lying, barbaric bi—’

‘Fifer.’ George raises his eyebrows.

‘You don’t really believe she’s going to help us, do you?’

Fifer says. ‘She means to run us in circles long enough for

Nicholas to die, then turn us over to her friends!’

‘I’m not going to do that,’ I say.

‘She’s not going to do that,’ George repeats.

‘I don’t believe you,’ Fifer says. ‘I don’t believe her.

I don’t believe any of this.’ She’s pacing back and forth,

shaking her head. Finally, she stops. ‘I’m telling John.’ She

turns and heads for the road.

‘No,’ George grabs her sleeve. ‘We keep this among us.’

‘No!’ Fifer says. ‘He needs to know. Do you know what

he’ll do if he finds out?’

‘Aye. I do know. Which is why he can’t.’ Fifer opens her

mouth to argue, but George shakes his head. ‘The main

thing is finding the tablet. You know that. Right now, we

can’t afford it to become about anything else. If we tell him,

that’s exactly what will happen.’

Fifer doesn’t reply.

‘Look, when we get to Humbert’s, you can write to

Nicholas,’ George continues. ‘Ask him yourself. He’ll tell

you the same thing.’

‘Why would he keep this from us?’

‘He has his reasons.’ George holds the witch’s ladder in

front of her. ‘Do we have a deal?’

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Fifer lunges for the ladder, but George yanks it away.

‘Fine,’ she rages. ‘It’s a deal.’

‘Good. Now wipe that murderous look off your face.

Here comes John.’

I look over the hedge and see him coming towards us in

a slow run. He’s completely coated in mud.

‘Oi, man. What happened to you?’ George says, looking

him over.

‘Jumped in a ditch.’ John wipes his face with his sleeve.

‘Nice hedge,’ he says to Fifer. She shrugs and doesn’t reply.

‘Those guards, they’re headed the same way we are. I

suppose they’re looking for us.’ He looks at each of us in

turn. ‘Did you hear them say anything?’

None of us reply.

‘I could have sworn I asked that question out loud,’ John

says wryly. ‘Fifer?’

‘Oh, don’t ask me! I don’t know anything!’

John raises his eyebrows. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

‘Everything! Nothing! I don’t know!’ She gives her

witch’s ladder a little shake. ‘It’s just… I’m upset because I

had to use one of my knots. I only have three. I didn’t

want to waste it on something so stupid.’ She gestures at

the hedge.

‘It’s not stupid; it saved you,’ John says.

‘It doomed us!’

‘Don’t be such a tragedy queen,’ I say irritably, rubbing

my scalp. It smarts from where she pulled my hair. ‘So you

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used a knot. You can make another at Humbert’s.’

Fifer glares at me, and without a word, she stalks off

towards the road. George hurries after her.

I look at John. ‘What was that about?’

‘Fifer didn’t make those knots – Nicholas did,’ John

replies. ‘She’s not quite powerful enough for that yet. He

was going to make more, but…you know.’

‘Oh,’ I say. ‘That’s too bad.’ I can see how those knots

would come in handy.

But it’s good to know Fifer isn’t as powerful as she

pretends to be.

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Another hour passes, and the sky begins to grow dark. The

rain that has dogged us most of the day has turned back

into snow, coming at us in gusts and swirling around our

feet. Eventually we reach a crossing, the road splitting into

two lanes. One is wide and well paved, leading into town.

The other road is barely that – footprints in an expanse of

knee-high grass that looks as if it’s been walked on maybe

twice in the last month. John checks his map again and, of

course, that’s the road we take.

The snow falls faster and harder, and what little path we

had is swallowed by snow and darkness. Every now and

again I catch a flash of red in the sky, blinking in the

darkness like a crimson star. Spook lights, I suppose; we

must be nearing a bog or a marsh of some sort. I just hope

we don’t have to cross it. While bog spooks aren’t dangerous,

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they are very irritating. They’ll make you play a thousand

stupid games before letting you cross the water in peace.

I’m too tired to deal with that right now.

Finally, we come upon a series of hills, each steeper than

the last. I lose my footing on the icy ground a few times, so

John walks beside me, holding my arm to keep me steady.