The Witchfinder Wars (16 page)

"No way," I said. "My dad told me I could go
to Oxford and study history."

"Of course you can," Clay said in a smooth,
oily voice, like he was offering a kid some candy to soothe him
right before the kidnapping. "You'll need a degree, it looks good
for the director to have some letters after his name, and history
works as well as anything else. We've got our own scientists and
researchers to do the dirty work, after all."

Kinsey stepped from behind me finally—and
man, was I glad—and tossed the fat folder he'd been holding in my
lap.

"It's time for you to get your hands dirty,
Tommy," he said. "Our instruments have been telling us for some
time there are witches in Manning. That's why Spenser moved you all
here, of course. And these are strong ones; really strong. It took
us quite a while, but we've finally managed to track them down.
We're going after them in just over forty-eight hours, and you're
going with us."

"Guys, guys, I get it, okay?" I opened the
folder and began to idly leaf through it, just so I wouldn't upset
them.

Because I knew, sure as Monday comes after
Sunday, that my uncle and his son were both nuts.

Then a glossy eight-by-ten in the folder
drew my attention.

A shabby old house surrounded by lush green
gardens. A gate in the fence around it. And just visible behind it,
an old barn looking like it was about to topple over.

I knew that house before I even turned the
page and saw the address.

I'd been through that gate earlier; I'd
walked down to that barn.

I wanted to throw the folder at my smug
uncle's face, or maybe hit my cousin upside the head with it, but I
didn't do either one. Instead, I folded it shut and placed it on
the edge of the desk in front of me.

These guys were crazy, but they also had a
picture of Anya's house. I had to be careful. I had to stay
cool.

And I had to find out exactly what their
plans were.

So I could stop them.

"Okay," I said. "You've got my interest.
Tell me more."

***

It was almost midnight before I got back to
my room, my head buzzing with information and my arms crowded with
books to study. It seemed WFG's pet scientists had designed some
sort of device to drain the power from these so-called 'witches'
and use that power to create immensely powerful primary storage
cells. Clay, with Kinsey as backup, kept on and on about how vital
these cells were to pretty much everyone in the world, and how glad
the 'witches' were to offer up their power for such a good
cause.

I kept nodding like I was buying into it,
but it sounded bogus to me. Who would give up her freedom to be
hooked into a machine that drained her? Nobody, that's who; nobody
who had a choice, anyway.

The WFG-sponsored clinics, like the one
already an operating concern in the old textile mill in downtown
Manning, North Carolina? Seems they were for real clinics, sure,
offering low-cost health care to local community—but they were also
created to be holding cells—Clay, of course, called them
'residences'—for the imprisoned 'witches.'

It was all bull, and I made myself a promise
to get some reliable information from some actual sane WFG
officials soon. I really, really wanted to talk to my uncle,
Zachariah, my dad's oldest friend; so far, though, no one had been
able to find him. But in the meantime, Clay and Kinsey were
dangerous; they had money and hired goons—I'd seen some of them
talking to Ray when I'd parked my car in our garage—and worst and
scariest of all, they were planning on doing something to Anya's
family.

Even as late as it was, I thought my best
plan would be to call the Manning police and just turn Clay and
Kinsey over to them. I picked up the phone beside my bed, looked up
the number and dialed it.

"Mannin' po-lice department. How can I
direct yo-uh call?"

"I, uh, well, that is—"

I paused because I heard a faint click on
the line. Hey, I'm no dummy; I've seen every James Bond movie,
twice. Either my line was tapped or someone was listening to
me.

I thought fast.

"Hello, my name is Thomas Hopkins," I said.
"I'm sorry for calling so late, but I just wanted to send the deep
appreciation of the entire Hopkins family for all the police help
during my father's funeral, and for the lovely flowers." Had they
sent flowers? Probably.

"Well, that's just so nice of you, Mistuh
Hopkins," said the voice on the other end. "We got the beautiful
thank-you card from Mrs. Hopkins, and the very generous check from
Mr. Clay Hopkins, but we sho do appreciate you gettin' in touch
personal. Now you call on us if you need anything atall, you heah
now?"

"Thank you kindly," I said and hung up.

The check from Mr. Clay Hopkins. That told
me a lot; it told me Clay had probably paid off the locals; it told
me I couldn't expect any help from the police, not in this
town.

It told me I was on my own.

And I had less than forty-eight hours to
stop the insanity.

I needed to get in touch with Anya, and
fast. But how? The house phone was tapped, I had no doubt, and
probably my cell too. I could go out to her place, but I was sure
to be followed, or there might be a tracking device in my car, or
they could trace my GPS signal or something.

I needed to tell her to watch out, to be
careful, but most importantly, to stay away from her house on
Sunday night.

Clay was going out there to get...well,
someone. Her aunt was an herbalist and her mom was a healer. My
uncle was going to take one or both of them and make them
'disappear'.

And he wanted me to go with him.

Right after he'd loaded me up with light
reading, he'd leaned back in his desk chair—the chair that should
have been my dad's—and said,

"It's time to get your feet wet, Tommy. It's
what we Hopkins have always done, ever since the first Matthew back
in the seventeenth century. We bring them in ourselves. Your father
wasn't good at it; he was a bleeding heart, too weak, too full of
fear. He tried to steer the company in a different direction, and
he thought he'd succeeded. Oh, sure, we cut back, way back, on
acquiring the hedge witches; the weak ones really don't pay off
anyway. But I've made damn sure we still go after the strong ones,
and we get them, too. Well, there's a strong one in Manning, and
we're going after her Sunday night, Kinsey and I and our regular
backup. And you're going with us."

A strong one
. I remembered the shed,
with all the bunches of herbs and candles. Anya's aunt must be the
strong one.

And I had to go help kidnap her.

Not that I wanted to. But Clay was
dangerous. He'd paid off the town police, he had all our phones
tapped, and he had I wasn't sure how many big beefy guys hanging
around and they were probably armed.

And I had Grand and the twins to worry
about.

I didn't think Clay'd hurt them.

But I wasn't willing to take the chance.

I paced back and forth across my room as it
got later and later, trying and discarding plans.

I had money, I had credit cards, I had a
car. I could take Grand and the girls for a ride in the country
Sunday morning. We could swing by Anya's house and get her, take
her with us. Grand wanted to meet her.

And then what? Go on the run with an old
lady, two eleven-year-olds and a girl with a witch for an aunt?
Clay would have the Manning police after us when I didn't show up
for his little raid, and even if he didn't call the cops, he could
probably track me on his own without their help.

I dropped onto the window seat and leaned my
head against the cool glass. What to do, what to do? I wanted to
run around in circles and scream. I wanted to grab Grand and the
twins up and leave for California. I wanted Anya right now, this
minute, so I could wrap my arms around her and tell her I'd keep
her safe. So I could feel her lips pressed to mine again.

I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe. I felt
around blindly, my eyes closed, and raised the window. I took a
breath of the fresh night air. A single bird call echoed through
the silent, empty streets of Manning.

I put my head in my hands as I tried to
think of something, anything, to do...

And naturally, with all this going on, what
did I do?

I fell asleep.

***

The sun in my eyes woke me up. I was stiff
and sore from falling asleep in an awkward position on my window
seat. I closed my eyes tight against the brightness.

All the things from the night before came
flooding back and I groaned as the weight of them hit me like a ton
of feathers, holding me down and smothering me at the same
time.

"Hey, dude! Good to see ya," said a voice. A
voice I recognized.

I opened my eyes.

Jordan stood below me in the front yard, a
pair of hedge clippers hanging from one meaty hand. His rusty truck
was parked across the street, and I could see saws and pruners in
the bed; a small trailer behind it held a lawn mower.

I had never seen anything so beautiful in my
life. I could have hugged him. And my mind worked faster than it
had ever done.

"Hey, Jordan! Busy at work, huh? Uh, about
time for a break, I'll bet? Hey, would you like to drive my car
around the block, and we can go get a soda or something?"

His face beamed up at me. "You mean it? Sure
thing!"

"Give me a minute and I'll be right
down!"

I threw on some clothes and raced down the
stairs.

Jordan was waiting out front, the hedge
clippers gone. "Can I really drive your car, man?"

"You bet!" I tossed him the keys, took his
arm and almost dragged him up the drive to where my car was parked.
"Jump in."

He started the engine like he was afraid I'd
take the keys away, backed out of the drive like he was driving a
soap bubble. "Where to?" he asked, a big grin splitting his face in
two.

"How about let's go get a soda. Is there a
drug store or convenience store or something close?"

"Sure, about a mile. Uh, I don't have any
change on me. I had to fill up my dad's truck on the way over."

"No problemo, my man," I said, feeling
better than I had for what seemed like days as we raced down Clarke
Street. "You find us a store."

He did.

And the store had phones. Nice, disposable,
untraceable phones.

I made the call, and talked to Anya.
Everything was okay—at least as okay as things could be,
considering my uncle and cousin were weirdos.

I was so glad to be doing something, I
didn't even argue when Jordan mumbled a while and then finally
asked me to attend a party that night. Why not, I thought. I've got
to get through these next few hours, next two days, before I can
see Anya again.

"So, whataya say, man?" he asked again when
we got back in the car, me cradling my new phone like it was made
of gold. "It'll be cool, really. You'll like my crew; they're great
guys. Some girls are coming, and we'll have beer. Say you'll come
tonight, okay?"

"Sure," I said. "Be glad to. What time and
where?"

He grinned as he maneuvered the car through
the streets back toward the house. "Six thirty, out at my place. My
folks are going out of town, so we're gonna hang out. Have a few
beers. Some girls'll be there too."

"Yeah, okay. Sounds good." I threw the phone
into the glove box as Jordan gave me the directions to his place.
It wasn't far, just outside of town. Even though I hadn't explored
much of Manning, I should be able to find it easily enough.

When we pulled back into the drive, I could
see Clay and Kinsey coming out the garage. Jordan, though obviously
reluctant, handed the keys back over and got out.

"So we'll see you tonight man?"

I caught sight of my uncle trying too hard
not to eavesdrop and I grinned, clapping Jordan on the
shoulder.

"Yeah, man. I'll see you then. Six
thirty."

***

Jordan's place was a little clapboard house
stuck out of a lawn trying hard to be an advertisement for his
dad's landscaping business. I pulled up and saw four or five cars
were already there; all of them I recognized from the parking lot
at school. I had never really been good at this kinda thing, this
social scene. But if Clay had anyone following me, they'd see
nothing but what I wanted them to see.

And I didn't want them to see me anywhere
near Anya.

I got out and waved at the guys hanging on
the front porch. The smoke from their cigarettes hung in the fading
twilight like a fog around their heads, and I fought the urge to
duck beneath it. One of them introduced himself as Michael,
grabbing my hand to shake his welcome, as I tried not to
breathe.

"Hey, man! Good to see you! Jordan's looking
for ya."

He grinned wider as a girl appeared beside
him. "Hannah, too."

"Hey, cutie!" The girl grinned and twisted
her arm around mine. "Come on, Jordan and the others are out back.
Let's go!"

I wasn't so sure, now, this was a good
thing. The girl's touch made me uneasy, somehow, and odd little
phrases started dancing through my head, like I was picking up some
weird radio station through the fillings in my teeth. "He's shy,
ain't that cute? Won't Jennie be jealous? I bet he's a good kisser.
Them arms of his are just so hard! Wonder what else I can make
hard? Wonder if...."

I started to pull away from her.

Then I glanced over my shoulder.

A big black Hummer sat against the curb
across the street. Okay. That made things a little different. "Uh,
Jordan said something about his crew," I began, still trying to
disentangle my arm from hers but not succeeding. "I guess you know
them all?"

"Honey, I know ever one a them boys, have
done since we was all in first grade together," she said. "Me and
my best friend Jennie done dated them all, and we're lookin' for
some fresh blood, if you know what I mean?"