Fire Girl (7 page)

‘Close the door,’ he rumbled. ‘You’re letting the heat out.’

Hazel did as she was told and stood in front of the desk, her mind worryingly blank.

‘Well?’ he said, scribbling in a ledger with a feather quill that looked tiny clutched between his fat fingers. ‘What do you want?’

I’ll try being polite
, she thought. ‘If you please, I’d like to take a look at the execution list.’ Not sure what to do next, she dropped a curtsy.

‘Would you now?’ the man said, laying down the quill and carefully blotting the parchment. ‘And why does that blood-soaked list interest you?’

‘Well, Mr . . . ?’

‘
Captain
Price.’

‘Well, Captain Price,’ Hazel said, her mind whirring, ‘I wish to make sure that the witches I, er . . . denounced received the justice they deserved.’

‘Hazel,
really
?’ came a squeak from just next to her ear.

Price looked Hazel up and down, pursing his mouth as if he’d eaten something sour. ‘One of Stearne’s informants, are you? The purge is over. Can’t you let the dead rest
in peace?’

‘No,’ Hazel said, trying not to wilt under the man’s disgusted gaze. ‘I must see it, to put my mind at rest.’

‘Too bad. There is no list.’ He waved his hand over the paper-strewn desk. ‘And there won’t be one until I collate all these reports, and that’ll take days.’
He grabbed a chicken leg from a plate and took a huge bite. ‘It’s enough to make me lose my appetite.’

‘No list?’ Hazel said.

‘No list,’ he repeated, discarding the stripped bone into an upturned helmet. ‘Tell me who you denounced – I may well remember their fate.’

Hazel was about to say Mary’s name when a terrible thought struck her.
What if Mary survived the purge? What if the Witch Hunters never found her? If I mention her now, they’ll be
sure to try and hunt her down.
Fluttering with panic, she stared at Price with her mouth still open, trying to think of something to say
.

‘Well?’ he said. ‘I haven’t got all night.’

‘Rose and Meg,’ she blurted. ‘The woodsman’s family. Both witches, I believe.’

‘Ah yes. I remember.’ Price sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes. ‘What a scene that was. Well, you’ll be pleased to know that they were the last two people to be executed.
Happy now?’

‘Yes, sir. I’m glad justice has been served. Goodnight to you.’ Hazel’s cheeks flushed with shame as she slunk out of the office, closed the door and slumped against the
wall.

‘So . . .
that
went well.’

‘Shut up, Bram,’ Hazel hissed.

‘Come on, there’s no point dwelling on it,’ the mouse replied. ‘You had to tell him something to keep Mary’s name a secret.’

‘Did you see the look he gave me?’ Hazel’s voice was shaking. ‘He thinks I’m as bad as the Witch Hunters.’

‘Well he’s hardly blameless, is he? He and his men helped in this awful business.’

Hazel stamped her foot. ‘It was all for nothing. We still don’t know what happened to Mary. Or where to find her –
or
Ma.’ She held back a sob. ‘I just feel
so
stupid
.’

‘At least you’re admitting it now,’ Bramley said, tucking himself more firmly into Hazel’s hair. ‘Oh come on, little witch, don’t cry,’ he added,
hearing Hazel sniff. ‘Let’s go back to the woods and try and get some sleep. Things will look better in the—’

‘Shush,’ interrupted Hazel. ‘There’s someone coming.’

‘Fire. That’s the answer.

Roast ’em down to bones and fat.’

Witch Hunter Captain John Stearne

B
ramley ducked behind Hazel’s ear just as a boy wearing a pea-green coat, velvet waistcoat and mud-spattered boots materialized out of the
darkness. He was striding up the stairs so quickly that he only just stopped in time to avoid knocking Hazel over.

‘Evening, miss,’ he said, touching the brim of his tricorne hat.

Hazel guessed he was about fifteen – although never having seen a boy before it was hard to tell.

‘Er, good evening,’ she said, recovering from her surprise.

‘I’d get off the streets if I were you,’ the boy said. ‘It’s not safe for a young girl to be wandering about on her own.’ Doffing his hat again he dashed up
the steps and barged into Price’s office. ‘Now listen here ...’ he started. The door banged shut.

Hazel backed down the stairs as a crescendo of shouts and crashes drifted through the windows.

‘Let’s get out of here, before
we
get involved,’ Bramley said.

‘But I want to see what’s going on.’

‘Stop being so reckless and—’

Price, red-faced and furious, flung open the door and strode out of the gaol with the boy, sans hat, struggling under his arm. ‘The fine to release your master has just doubled,’
Price bellowed, hurling the boy down the stairs and kicking his hat after him. ‘And don’t come back until you have it.’

Hazel stared slack-jawed as the boy jumped to his feet.

‘You great, fat
oaf
,’ he said, hopping from foot to foot. ‘That’s my best hat, and how
dare
you manhandle me? Don’t you know who I am? You’ll be
seeing me again and when you do, I’ll—’

Price slammed the door and the boy deflated.

‘Hello again,’ Hazel said.

The boy brushed himself down and tried to apply some shape back to his hat. ‘I apologize for the unseemly nature of our reacquaintance but, as you may have noticed, I have just had a
disagreement with Captain Lard-Bottom in there.’

‘Do you always have that effect on people?’ Hazel asked, strangely alert to the boy’s cheekbones.

He gave her a lopsided grin. ‘I think I just caught him at a bad time.’

Hazel took a step towards him. ‘Are you hurt? That was quite a fall.’

‘A mere stumble. I’m made of pretty stern stuff, you know. Allow me to introduce myself.’ He bowed and threw another smile, which, for reasons Hazel couldn’t quite
understand, made her heart flutter oddly in her chest.

‘Why are you blushing?’ Bramley whispered. ‘You don’t
like
him, do you?’

Hazel ignored him, wishing he’d shut up and let her think.

‘My name is David Drake, apprentice to Mr Titus White,’ the boy continued, straightening up and jamming his hat back on his head. ‘And before you ask, yes,
the
Titus
White.’

Hazel looked blank.

‘Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of him?’ David asked.

‘Who’s he talking about?’ Bramley whispered.

‘I’m afraid not,’ Hazel said to David. ‘Who is he?’

David looked wounded. ‘Why, he’s only the most celebrated Witch Finder of his generation. I thought everyone had heard of him. I suppose his glory years may be behind him, but still
. . .’

‘Witch Finder?’ Bramley squeaked. ‘That’s trouble we don’t need. Make your excuses and get away. He’ll have your head on a spike as soon as he finds out
you’re a Wielder.’

Hazel knew Bramley was right. This boy who seemed so handsome and charming could well be a killer. She glanced at the smouldering pyres and cold fear ran through her.

‘A Witch Finder?’ she said, forcing herself to sound enthusiastic. ‘How exciting!’

‘It can be,’ he said, hooking his thumbs into his belt and smiling complacently.

‘Travelling around seeking out witches must be very rewarding,’ she continued. ‘I bet you have loads of interesting tales to tell.’

‘Er, yes . . . loads.’ His smile wavered.

‘He’s hiding something,’ Bramley whispered.

Hazel agreed. ‘Tell me what happened here,’ she said, sweeping her arm around the square. ‘Did you help to round up witches for this purge?’

‘Actually . . . er, no,’ he replied. ‘A purge like this is government business.’

‘Ah,’ Hazel replied. ‘So what
do
you do?’

David puffed out his chest. ‘We are freelance Witch Finders, independent traders, the best in the business. Knights of the road helping those in need.’

‘That sounds very impressive,’ she said. ‘So are you here on business?’

David deflated. ‘Well, unfortunately, unforeseen circumstances have made business difficult to pursue.’

‘Oh?’

He nodded towards the gaol. ‘The boss has got himself arrested again. He’s locked up in there.’

‘What did he do?’ asked Hazel.

‘The usual. Got drunk and into a fight.’ David sighed. ‘He’s plagued by dark moods – black dogs, he calls them. They always lead to trouble, and it’s always
up to me to get him out of it. He’s squandered our savings so I can’t pay the fine to release him. My father warned me against taking up with Titus, and I’m beginning to see
why.’

‘Hazel, come on,’ Bramley muttered. ‘These two sound like a right pair. Take your leave and let’s get out of here.’

But Hazel was busy weighing risk against opportunity. A professional Witch Hunter was her mortal enemy, but also someone who might know how to track a demon – which was the best possible
way of finding her mother.

‘You’re about to do something reckless, aren’t you?’ Bramley hissed from behind her ear. ‘I can tell.’

Hazel thought of Hecate in the clutches of the demon. She knew that had it been the other way around, her mother would have stopped at nothing to save her. Taking David’s arm, she guided
him under the eaves of a smithy.

‘Tell me, David,’ she said, leaning close and lowering her voice, ‘what do you know about . . . hunting demons?’

David’s eyes widened. ‘The thought of hunting demons was why I became Titus’s apprentice in the first place. The fame, the glory . . .’

Hazel gripped his arm tighter. ‘Then you’ve dealt with them before?’

‘Not
exactly
.’

She let go of his arm and frowned. ‘What do you mean, not
exactly
?’

‘Well, I’ve read a lot about them,’ David said.

‘You mean you’ve never even seen one?’

‘No – but that’s not my fault.’ He kicked the ground. ‘Freelancers like us haven’t been allowed to hunt witches or demons since the war ended. Only Lord
Cromwell’s official Witch Hunters can do that.’

‘Come on, Hazel,’ Bramley whispered. ‘This boy’s no use to us. He wouldn’t know a demon if it stood up in his soup.’

As surreptitiously as possible, Hazel gave Bramley a poke to shut him up. ‘So if you can’t hunt demons or witches, why call yourself Witch Finders?’ she asked.

‘I told you, before the war Titus was the most famous Witch Finder in the land. But under Cromwell everything’s changed. I’ve been Titus’s apprentice for a year now, and
do you know what we’ve been doing in all that time?’

Hazel shrugged.

‘Investigating ghost sightings.’ He shook his head in disgust. ‘
Ghost
sightings. The number of nights I’ve camped out in graveyards as the boss got drunk and fell
asleep. And the indignity doesn’t end there.
Oh
no! We’ve sometimes had to stoop to scare-crowing. And me, the son of a duke. No witches. No demons. No glory. And all because the
boss won’t join the Order of Witch Hunters.’

‘Why not?’

‘Titus hates Cromwell. Fought against him in the war. The Order wouldn’t take him even if he wanted to join.’

‘Can’t you leave him and go your own way?’ Hazel said, trying to ignore Bramley as he nipped at her ear.

David shook his head. ‘Of
course
not. The bond between master and apprentice is sacred. If I broke it, I would prove myself to be less than a gentleman. I may be destitute, I may be
penniless . . . but I still have my pride.’

‘It sounds like you can’t help me.’ Hazel sighed.

‘Now wait a minute,’ David said. ‘I don’t believe this is a chance meeting. I think providence has thrown us together for a reason.’

‘I’m not sure . . . ?’ Hazel said, wondering what ‘providence’ meant.

‘I can help you, I promise,’ the boy exclaimed. ‘Will you give me a chance?’

Hazel looked into his wide blue eyes and something inside her melted. ‘Well,’ she said at last, ‘I suppose I
could
give you a chance.’

‘This is a mistake,’ Bramley squeaked.

David clapped his hands. ‘Marvellous! A proper job at last.’ His face turned serious. ‘By the way, it’s probably best not to mention demons to the boss, for now
anyway.’