The Witchfinder Wars (27 page)

"Of course, child. We can help you here.
Give you the life you deserve, not the one you started out with.
Tell you what. Go ahead and eat. I'll go get your paperwork ready
and then we can introduce you to the other girls."

"I was wondering if there were more.
It...it's so peaceful here."

Again, the Goddess was with me. Making my
voice soft. Vulnerable. The woman pulled me into a hug once more
before standing.

"You poor girl. Of course there are more
just like you. Some worse. Course, we can't offer much, but we can
help."

A wink and she was gone. Leaving me to the
food that was turning my stomach at the thought of my lies. It
seemed like such a disservice to Ivy's memory, to Evie, to tell
such lies. But I had to survive. If there was nothing else, I had
to make it through this.

I took two bites of the sandwich, but my
stomach protested when the food reached it and I had to stop. I
threw the rest of it away and washed the dish before Stephanie
joined me once more with a stack of papers in her hand.

We sat down together as she explained them
to me. This was a charity, dependent on the grants and donations
made by both the government and local companies. I would be
expected to pay back only what I could, when I could. Their
services would teach me how to get a job, get a new identity, and
stay hidden from anyone who would be searching for me.

The pen was in my hand and I was signing
Evie's name before I realized it, filling out the blanks with
fictitious information that would create my new persona. It wasn't
until I handed the pages back to Stephanie I realized I had been
successful. The Witchfinders wouldn't find me here. I would learn
how to make it back to Tommy's side, and then never leave it again
if I could help it.

My new life. My new beginning. All serving
to take me back to the one I loved. The one who made me whole.

My Tommy.

Bonus: a free excerpt from
Book Two of
The Witchfinder Wars:
Deception

Chapter One

She was running.

I knew it. And I knew exactly what Anya was
trying to escape from. But I couldn't shake the belief I could do
something to bring her back. It was the dream of finding her which
kept me going during the day, but the horrors filling my sleep told
me exactly why she needed to stay gone.

My family, my company, WFG Ltd., would kill
her, had already killed her mother and her aunt.

And there was nothing I had been able to do,
nothing I could do to stop them.

But I damn well was going to try.

I pulled my car into the parking lot spread
out in front of what had been an old brick mill building dating
back to the late 1800s. It was now the brand new WFG-sponsored
Manning Municipal Clinic. I was here to visit my father. The
newspapers and police told us he had died in the rockslide on
Interstate 40, but now, I knew better.

I walked up the steps, opened the door at
the top, and smelled the unmistakable odor of hospitals; a
combination of alcohol, disinfectant, and sadness. The thick wooden
floors original to the old mill had been sanded smooth and covered
with a clear coat which still let the grain and more than a century
of stains show through. I walked past rows of chairs to the
ultramodern glass-and-chrome front desk, my sneakers making a soft
shushing sound against the ancient wood. Even they were trying to
keep quiet.

The receptionist behind the desk was short
and thin, her dark hair drawn back so tight I expected it to
scream. She was dressed in a subdued grey tunic and pants, standard
WFG issue, and her nametag said
Carla Nivens
. She gave me
one of those hospital soothing smiles, like she was glad to see me
and sorry I had someone sick, all at the same time.

I leaned on the desk. "I'm Tommy Hopkins," I
said.

Her smile changed to one shouting 'rich guy
owner of the place in the house' and she leaned over and whispered
in the ear of a chubby bleached blonde also in grey. Then the thin
one stepped around the desk and gave my arm a consoling pat-pat
like I was a friendly dog.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Hopkins," she murmured, kind
of low and secretive even though, since there was no one else in
the big waiting room but us three, I didn't really see the need.
"Come right this way, sir."

We went through double glass doors as I
followed her down a long corridor, her own grey sneakers silent
while mine continued to shush. The hallway we entered was also a
combination of old and new: ancient wood floors and sheetrock walls
painted a cheerful pale yellow. Overhead, the ceiling arched so it
was almost like walking down a tunnel. Since there were no windows
and the lights grew dimmer as we walked, this impression grew
stronger and stronger, until I expected to smell dank water and
hear chains clinking as ghosts walked the underworld.

Whoa, Tommy. This is a modern clinic, even
if the building did start life almost a hundred and fifty years
ago.

I knew why my mind was wandering like this.
I still didn't exactly believe my Uncle Clay when he said my dad,
clinging to life after a horrible accident, needed my girlfriend
Anya's witchy-woo powers to bring him back to full strength.

Yes, you heard me right. Welcome to my life.
Heir to the Witchfinder General. In love with a witch. It was so
much like a bad romance novel I would have laughed—if it didn't
hurt so damn bad.

The receptionist made a couple of turns, and
we passed doors open and closed. At first, there were a good many
people around, some in white, most in grey, but as we made more and
more turns, I saw fewer faces and finally none. We did one last
left turn into a short dead-end corridor with a mirror taking up
the whole end of the hallway.

I towered over the woman in front of me as I
examined us both getting bigger in the mirror. I could see my
blonde hair sticking up in all directions—pretty much normal and
not due to the bunch they'd had to whack off to fit the bandage
which I'd just recently discarded. My face looked older somehow;
pale and drawn. Especially in comparison to the red cheeks of my
guide.

"Just one minute, Mr. Hopkins, sir," she
said apologetically.

"Not so much of the
sir
, please. My
name is Tommy."

She blushed. I could see in the mirror the
rest of her face now matched her cheeks. "Yes, sir. I mean, yes,
Tommy."

She stopped so abruptly I almost ran into
her. She reached up with her right hand and laid it against the
shiny glass, like she was going to push it over or something—which
would have been quite a trick, seeing as how the mirror was at
least nine feet high by six wide.

But it turned out to be a trick after all. A
soft hum and I saw movement reflected behind us. I turned. A wall
was sliding across at the end of the short hall, blocking the
entrance. I turned back, and the mirror had slid aside as well.

"Okay," I said. "This is just too cool."

She giggled. "Yes, it is, isn't it…Tommy.
You're to go to the central desk, right down there, see?" She
pointed down the hall in front of us. "Someone will be there to
take care of you. After you pay your visit, someone will bring you
back out to my desk. Good afternoon. I look forward to seeing you
again."

She turned and walked towards the wall
behind us.

I stepped forward, and must have broken some
kind of electric beam or something, because the mirror slid to
behind me. Only, on this side, it wasn't a mirror at all, but glass
so clear it was almost invisible. I watched as the wall opened in
front of her and Carla walked back into the main hallway. Then I
realized I'd forgotten to tell her thanks and started forward.

Naturally, I bumped my nose on the glass,
hard enough to bring tears to my eyes.

Oh well. It had been one of those days…

***

It started out weird just this morning when
I woke up with the sound of Anya's voice whispering my name in my
ear. The belief she was there was so strong I shot up, glancing
around my room. It took my feet hitting the floor before I realized
it had been a figment of my imagination. I just wished she was here
so strong my mind was playing tricks on me.

Grand—that's my grandmother, Katherine
Hopkins—had been spending time at the clinic with my dad, though
she refused to let me go thanks to my headaches, a result of a
concussion. She wouldn't even let me go to school so I could tell
the authorities I was quitting. She'd been interviewing tutors for
me so I wouldn't get behind, but she felt—and I certainly
agreed—school wasn't where I was needed right now. I'd felt fine
physically for over a week now, but one does not argue with the
Grand.

She came in while my sisters and I were at
breakfast. We hadn't told Jos and Jax—they're twins, twelve going
on thirty—anything about Dad yet. Grand gave me a nod and sat down
at the table with us.

"Aren't you girls going to be late for
school?" she asked as she poured coffee. "Pass me the sugar,
please, Tommy."

I passed the white bowl while the girls
whined but hurried to finish their cereal.

"We've got gym today," Jax said. She stuck
her tongue out at her sister. "I'm
infinitely
better at gym
than Jos is."

Jos ignored her as she gathered up her
books. Then she turned and said in a confidential tone, "Yes, you
are. But I'm better at math. Come on, Jax, we've got to go. The
bus'll be here in four-point-seven minutes!"

"Bus?" I asked Grand after the girls left,
Jax whooping and Jos looking pained.

Grand shrugged. "They didn't like going in
the limo, so I gave them permission to ride the bus. They seem to
enjoy—"

"Being normal?" I interrupted.

Grand smiled but said nothing as she
buttered the toast our chef Brent had just brought in and put down
in front of her. She waited for him to leave and then asked,
"Tommy, are the headaches gone? No more nightmares? Is your head
truly better?"

"As good as it's ever been, I guess." I was
still having both the headaches and the nightmares, but I didn't
want to give Grand something else to worry about. "How's…I mean,
did you see him? He's still okay? Still…alive?"

She didn't say anything for a minute, just
eyed the selection of jams and jellies before choosing peach
preserves. As she spread a spoonful on her toast, she said, "I go
almost every day, you know. And I see…someone. I'm not sure if it's
Spenser, to be honest. I do not think your uncle would lie to us,
of course."

Sure, she didn't think Clay was lying. Grand
was smart, and she knew her son better than anyone; after all, he
was her son.

But ever since I'd found out our chauffeur
Ray was working for my dear uncle, Grand and I had both decided to
be careful what we said.

"Of course not," I agreed. I winked at her
and reached for a piece of her toast.

She slapped my hand.

"Ow!"

Sally, who's been our maid ever since before
my mom died, came in with the mail on a little tray. "Still some
late sympathy cards, Mrs. Hopkins, and a few letters. Good morning,
Tommy."

I grinned at her as Grand began to separate
her mail.

"Morning, Sally. The girls giving you much
trouble?"

"No more than usual," she said as she pulled
the door to behind her.

"Well, I guess since the doctor has turned
me loose, I should think about school too," I said. I got up and
stretched, wondering what it would be like to visit the school I'd
attended for such a short time, the school where I'd met Anya,
especially now after all these weeks away, and all I'd been
through. Would they still be talking about the fire at the old
Blanchett place, and the deaths of Ivy, Evie and, for all they
knew, Anya? I didn't know if I could stand hearing about any of
those things, not and keep my sanity.

It was one reason I hadn't been in any hurry
to go back and get my things. I still planned to attend college,
but the private tutoring would make sure I didn't get behind. I was
hoping getting back into a regular routine would help me manage my
longing for Anya.

Fat chance.

"Tommy."

Grand sounded upset.

I sat back down. "Yes, ma'am?"

"I've got something for you." She handed me
three small pieces of grubby paper, each of them folded up into a
square. My name was on the front of all of them.

I knew the handwriting. My heart began to
pound as I unfolded them and glanced at the dates at the top, then
put them in order. The first one was dated three weeks ago. I began
to read:

September 10

Tommy
—

I hope this letter finds its way to you. You
put so much faith in your Grand, I had to do so as well. These last
few weeks have been hell for me. I'm sure for you too.

Please, please don't worry. I'm fine. Safe.
Finding a way back to you.

Please be safe while I'm gone. I couldn't
make it through this if I didn't know I could come back to you.
Because then, all purpose would be gone.

Promise me you'll burn this. I know about
WFG, Tommy. I don't—no, I can't—care about your connection to them.
My heart won't let me. Just do this—burn this—so they can't find
it, and you won't be in more trouble too.

With all my love,

Anya

I tucked the paper, a paper I had no
intention of burning, into my pocket and began to read the second
one:

September 17

Tommy
—

They are keeping me busy here. It kills me I
can't tell you where I am—who I'm with. I know it's for their
protection as well as mine. They hide broken women in plain sight.
Like they are doing for me now.