Chapter 11
The black vehicle drove slowly along the road. It passed through the main centre of town and continued onwards. Neither of the two women spoke during the journey, Indira only occasionally raising her voice to bark directions, Prentiss following them without question. They came to a dirt road, the entrance obscured by masses of over hanging branches. If one didn't know it was there, then it would be the easiest thing in the world to overlook.
"Stop the car here." Indira said quietly. "We go up on foot."
Prentiss obeyed, turning the car around and gliding to a stop at the side of the road. Indira held back a tree branch and Prentiss stepped forward.
They walked into a forest, big, willowy trees standing sadly on all sides, their branches loping over to brush the ground. The dirt road stretched in a straight line up into the distance, narrowing into nothing more than a path. The afternoon sunlight left dusty impressions on patches of grass, the blades of which were browning and tough. Indria started forward, her heels leaving tiny circles in the dust. Prentiss followed after.
"What is this place?" Prentiss asked.
Indira looked at her and smiled.
"A Sanctuary."
They walked in silence for a while. It was a sad place, Prentiss thought. Pretty enough to look at, but there was something floating in the air, something that spoke of loss and grief. Prentiss shivered and decided to speak.
"So what are the consequences of this going to be? Telling 'Muggles' about your world, I mean."
"I'm not sure." Indira answered slowly. "But it will be bad. Extremely bad. Usually, if you wish to make a disclosure of this kind, you have to fill out about a million governmental forms. These have to approved and all this other carry on. We didn't really have time to fill out the forms and, in any case, I don't know if they would've been granted."
"The American Magical Government and The Salem Institute of Magic aren't on the best terms." she continued in response to Prentiss's questioning look. "At the start of this year, we allowed a Muggle parent onto our board of governors. We felt it would better represent Muggle-born families. But the education minister isn't happy about it. He thinks it would complicate things, which it might. But the government has no real power here. That's the main thing they hate. Sometimes they can work with it, but recently they've been looking to put us under observation. However, they need an excuse for that."
"And a dead student on your doorstep is the perfect ammunition." Prentiss nodded sympathetically.
"Yes." Indira sighed. "And breaking secrecy laws is just the knife twist in the wound. God, that was a tactless thing to say."
She shook her head and folded her arms across her chest. A patch of light fell across the path and the dusky spotlight hung around them like a halo. Indira closed her eyes and let the warmth splash across her face. The witch's face illuminated, Prentiss saw many lines that hadn't been immediately obvious when they'd first met; this woman was older and tireder than she appeared.
The pair spent at least ten minutes walking up the path, the road where they had left the car getting further and further away. The sun was low, the darkness soon would take its place. Prentiss hoped they would return before that point. They came to a clearing and the presence of life became visible. There were many old, wooden cabins lined up in a row, slanting roofs hanging over small porches and chipped, green window sills. A fire smoked away in the centre, a large pot cooking something. People, of all different ages, walked about; a woman tended to the pot, a younger boy cutting up vegetables; two men carried stacks of firewood, placing them beside one of the cabin walls; children played with what looked like marbles and an old lady sat on a porch, rocking back and forth in a wicker chair, smoking a long pipe. It looked like a holiday site, with no magical connections what so ever and then Prentiss saw something. The land began to rise up a little way after the last cabin. Perched on the hill were rows of boxes. Made of a dark coloured metal, they were held up with heavy looking bolts. Gigantic, thick chains laced around them, sealed with an imposing padlock. They stood, like grey soldiers, looking down on the encampment below.
"What are those?" Prentiss asked, staring up at them.
"Prisons." Indira replied. "No longer in use, thanks to the Wolfsbane potion, but they serve as a reminder."
The mood seemed to switch when the women walked into sight. Everyone seemed to tense and look up, as if ready to run. Prentiss fell into step behind Indira, who seemed to be okay navigating her way around. She gave a polite nod to the woman with the pipe and then turned and walked up to one of the cabins, giving the door a quick rap with her knuckles.
"Enter." a gruff voice called and Indira pushed the door open.
A man sat at a desk, writing on a piece of parchment, a quill in his hand. He had greying black hair that went down to his shoulders and a shadow of a beard on his chin. His clothes were dusty and shabby, many seams making them look as though they had been shredded and then re-sewn. His deep brown eyes slowly looked up as his visitors entered and let the door shut behind them.
"Indira," he said, inclining his head in her direction, "and Companion," nodding at Prentiss.
"Lyall Hemming, this is Agent Prentiss." Indira said.
Prentiss stepped forward and held out her hand, which Lyall took and gave a firm shake.
"You're a Muggle?" he asked, an eyebrow raised.
"Yes, how did you know?" Prentiss said.
Lyall gave a wry smile and said, "few wizards will shake the hands of wolves, my dear."
"Present company excluded." he added, offering them a seat and turning to look at Indira inquiringly.
"We'd like to ask you some questions, if you don't mind." Indira said, lowering herself onto the chair. "It's about the death up at the school."
"The child?" Lyall asked. "I've heard. A terrible business."
"Can you account for everyone's whereabouts two days ago?" the witch asked.
"I'm their leader, not their keeper." Lyall responded. "But I don't imagine anyone was away from the site."
"It was a full moon that night." Indira said quietly.
"What are you saying?" Lyall said, two different notes in his voice; one teasing, the other defensive and dangerous.
Indira stared at him, her eyes not blinking. "You know what I'm saying."
"Then say it."
Indira sighed. "Were there any incidents-"
"Did any of my lot get lose and savage a kid to death, you mean?" Lyall said angrily. "We all took our medicine, Indira, give us some credit!"
"I do." Indira said coldly. "You know I do."
"Sorry." Lyall said, massaging his temples. "I did the checks. Everyone was inside and on Wolfsbane. It couldn't have been anyone from here."
"Well, have there been any strangers hanging around the area?" Prentiss asked.
Lyall shook his head. "We're the only werewolves around here for miles. Trust me."
"There's a high chance that this has nothing to do with werewolves." Indira said kindly. "I shouldn't worry."
Lyall took them to the edge of the site and told them to keep him posted. Indira sensed his need to prove their innocence and hoped that she could cross them off the suspect list. She put her hands in her pockets and began to walk back to the car.
"So what do you think?" she asked Prentiss.
"I hope it wasn't any of them." the agent commented. "But the M.O says otherwise. And he was pretty quick to defend them."
"That's just habit." Indira said softly. "When people always think the worst, you have to be ready to fight for yourself.
"You're very ready to fight for them." Prentiss commented.
"They need people to be on their side." Indira whispered. "I lived next-door to a boy with Lycanthropy when I was a child. People would cross the street when he played in the garden. I don't think he understood why back then. He was just a kid but they abused him for it, like he had a choice, like it wasn't destroying his life and that of his parents. Fear inflamed by ignorance. They treated him like it was their problem and didn't even stop to think how it effected his life."
"What happened to him?" Prentiss asked.
"He killed himself." Indira replied. "On his seventeenth birthday. His parents moved away after that, but I saw the way they cried. They lost their son and all everyone could think about was how they didn't have to worry anymore. How the monster was gone. It was sick. He was seventeen."
She wiped a tear off her cheek. His name had been Michael and he had been her friend. He had been clever and funny. He was exceptional at potions and played every musical instrument known to man. And all anyone else could see was the threat he posed every full moon.
"They'll get a fair trial with us." Prentiss said, putting her hand on Indira's shoulder. "Come on."
And they went back to the car, Indira holding the memory of a friend and Prentiss with a dawning sense of responsibility.