Witch Finder

This chapter returns to Gavin's POV:

The next thing I remember was opening my eyes and hearing a voice saying, "Awake already? I wasn't expecting that. Must be resistant to the powder."

My head felt fuzzy and for some reason I couldn't comprehend what they were talking about. I heard the words, but they didn't make much sense.

"Should we give him another dose, Captain?"

"No. Remember what happened last time we gave a dose too soon after the first one, Leeroy? The witch had convulsions and died soon after. Best wait. But you can give him the dominaltride now."

"Very well, sir."

I felt something sting my left arm, then I was slowly floating in a white realm. It was almost like flying, but not quite. From far away I heard the voices again.

"Is it true, sir, that this kid is your, uh, lost son?"

"Yes. The resemblance is rather unmistakable, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, sir. But what about the fact that he's . . .a warlock, sir?"

"A legacy of his mother's blood, no doubt," the voice said smoothly, cold with anger. "And one that I'm going to remove from him gradually. But for now, we stick to the low-grade dose of midnight mushroom, enough to keep him from accessing his devil-spawned gift and yet still be able to sense others of his kind."

"Like Trapper."

"Exactly. We need another witch finder, Leeroy. And what better way for my son to atone for his sins than to help us in our God-given work?" The voice came closer, and I felt a touch on my hair.

For some reason the touch made me cringe, but I couldn't escape it. My body was not my own any more. I was floating out of myself, drifting into the white dreamscape, where colors were muted and outlines sharper. Who am I? I wondered lazily.

"You're my son, Johnny Hawthorne," answered the first voice. "I'm your father, Captain Matthew Hawthorne. You were sick for a long time, son, but you're getting better now."

Okay. I could understand that. I felt odd, like my brain was wrapped in cotton wool. But at least I knew who I was and who he was. I felt a little better then. I was not alone, I had a family. A father.

"Where am I?" I tried to sit up, but a hand held me down.

"Lie down, Johnny. You're still weak and dizzy yet. You're in the headquarters of my work, in Salem."

I opened my eyes then, only to wince and yelp as the light him them. I quickly closed them. "Ow! The light, it's too bright."

"I know. That's from you being sick. Just relax, you'll be able to open your eyes soon, boy," said my father softly. He patted my shoulder. "For now listen to me. Are you listening, young man?"

"Yes sir," I answered, wondering if I was in trouble. I only got called that when I'd done something wrong by . . .someone I couldn't remember . . .a figure in black . . .but I couldn't for the life of me figure out what I'd done wrong. Maybe get sick?

"Good. My job, Johnny, is as a soldier. A soldier of God, on a holy mission. Do you know what that mission is?"

"Uh . . .to help people?"

"Very good." I felt myself blush with pride. I liked it when he praised me, it made me feel wonderful. I'd do anything for it. "I'm here to help people, Johnny. To protect them against the evil people in this world. I am an Enforcer, and my friends and I have dedicated our lives to fighting against the evil minions of the devil. Understand?"

"Yes sir," I replied. The words sounded familiar, I thought I'd heard something similar before, only I couldn't remember. Long ago . . .the memory made me whimper.

"Quiet, boy!" snapped my father and I shivered. His anger was like the crack of a whip, it hurt, and I flinched.

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm sorry I was bad." I babbled, desperate to alleviate the disapproval. "I'll be good."

"Of course you will, son," my father whispered. "Good boys get rewarded, bad boys get punished. And you're my good boy, aren't you, Johnny? You'll do whatever I say, like a good son?"

I nodded rapidly. "Yes, Father. Whatever you say." And I meant it. I didn't want to be punished. I was good, I knew how to obey my father. "Honor thy father and mother." I told him earnestly.

That pleased him. "Good, you've learned your Scripture then. At least Ferrous did something right. Now, Johnny, pay attention. I told you before that it is my duty to protect people from evil. We, the Brotherhood of the Shining Path, are here to make the world safe from those devil spawn that masquerade as human beings. Do you know who they are?"

"No sir."

"They are witches. And warlocks. They claim they have magic, and magic is evil, a tool of Satan. Our mission is to destroy them. I am a soldier of the Brotherhood and my holy mission is to hunt down witches and kill them, so they cannot pervert innocents with their heathen dark magic. God has commanded me, and thus I obey like a proper son. And you also. What is my mission, Johnny?"

I licked my lips, then I replied, "To hunt down witches."

"And kill them."

"And kill them," I repeated obediently.

"Good. Yes, we will cleanse the world of their foul taint. Together, you and I, son. What is our mission?"

"To hunt down witches and kill them."

"Excellent!"

I felt myself near to bursting with pride. I had answered my father correctly. I was a good boy.

"Thus does it say in Exodus 13:22, Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live. Repeat that, please."

"Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live."

"Yes, that's right, boy. Never forget that."

I promised I wouldn't. I never wanted to disappoint my father.

"Good, because if you do, you're bad. And what happens to bad little boys, son?"

"They get whipped," I answered, shivering.

"That's right. And we don't want that, do we, boy?"

"No, sir!" I cried, shaking. "No, no, please!" I didn't want to get whipped, it hurt too much. I didn't know how I knew that, but I did. Perhaps I'd been bad once and my father had punished me.

"Then what do you have to remember, child?" my father demanded.

"Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live."

"And what is our purpose, John Hawthorne?"

"To hunt down witches and kill them."

"Very good. Open your eyes."

I obeyed and this time the light didn't hurt. I looked up into the face of a man with dark hair and eyes. He was smiling down at me. I knew who he was. This was my father. My father, who I was to obey in all things, as the Ten Commandments said.

"You have been chosen, Johnny, by the Lord to help us in a very special way," he continued, still smiling.

"What way, Father?" I asked. I wanted very much to help. So very much.

"You, my son, will be a witch finder. You have a God-given talent to feel the witches. You will lead us to them, wherever they may be, no matter where they hide, so we can drive their presence from the earth for good and all. They are Satan's children and they must be destroyed. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." I responded, but some small part of me protested a little. It whispered that not all witches were bad. I quickly smothered that little voice. It would get me in trouble. Father wanted me to help him. I was his son, his good son, I would not listen to that nagging voice.

"Good. What is our motto?"

I repeated it again.

"And what are you?"

"I am a witch finder."

"Whose son are you?"

"Yours, Father." Again that annoying voice whispered that I wasn't only this man's son. Once I'd been the son of another . . .the man in black.

"That's right. My son. John Hawthorne. My little witch finder." He patted my head lightly. "I'm proud of you, boy."

I grinned up at him, utterly delighted.

* * * * * *

Father told me that I could get up in a few minutes and get dressed. He had given me a uniform like his own to wear, and I put it on proudly. He told me now I looked proper, like a true soldier of the Brotherhood. Then he brought me some food, a ham sandwich with lettuce and mayonnaise and chips. I ate them hungrily, I was starving. Then he gave me a can of Coke, only he poured it in a glass with ice and stirred it.

"Drink it all."

I sipped it. It tasted funny. "This tastes weird. I don't like it."

He glowered at me. "Do as I say, boy!"

I obeyed, even though the taste made me shudder. I knew better than to disobey. A strange feeling came over me after I'd drank the Coke. I felt lighter than air, yet heavier than iron. I kept seeing strange things in the air, owls with letters in their beaks, a strange cauldron bubbling, a small house with green trim. I knew that house, didn't I? But then the house vanished. I felt a pang of sadness. I had loved that house, it was my home.

I shook my head abruptly. No, this was my home. I squinted sharply, and this time the man in black stepped from the shadows. He was tall, with long black hair with a white streak on the left side. He seemed familiar. I could almost remember . . .but then he vanished too. I half reached out to him. I wanted him . . .he was . . .I needed . . .my thoughts fragmented and I clung to the one thing I remembered.

I was a witch finder.

I took a deep breath and looked up to find my father eyeing me curiously.

"How do you feel?"

"Fine," I answered. My head was fuzzy, but then it usually was.

"What can you sense with your gift, Johnny?"

My gift? Oh yes. I closed my eyes and concentrated. At first, I could sense nothing, and I panicked. What was happening to me? Then I heard another voice, soft as silk, whispering, Take a deep breath. That's right. Breathe, child, in and out. Ten times. Find your center and then open your mind. I found myself obeying and after I'd done what the silky voice said, I could sense, very faintly the presence of another with magic.

"I can feel something, Father."

He was instantly alert. "Like what?"

"A presence. It glows to my sight."

"A witch?"

I nodded.

Again he smiled. For some reason his smile made me shiver. "Very good, child. Finish your lunch and then we'll go and see what kind of witch you've found."

That was fine with me. I quickly ate the rest of my sandwich. Then I stood up. "I'm ready now, Father."

He gestured, and I preceded him out of the room.

* * * * * *

My witch finding sense led us to a tall red brick house close to the outskirts of Salem. Father drove the car, while I sat up next to him and directed him. My sense of the witch was like a glow in the back of my mind, I could find where she was like a game of hot and cold.

We parked about a block away from the house, then Father and I and five other men got out of the car. All of the men except me had guns with silencers on them. "Are you sure this is the witch's house, boy?"

"Yes, Father. She is here," I said with utter certainty.

"Well done. Now, we're going to play a little game, Johnny. I need you to pretend you're hurt. Fall on the ground and act like you're in pain. Make believe you've broken your leg. I'm going to go to the door and knock on it, ask to use the phone to call 911. This will make the witch come out." He paused. "Is there more than one witch here?"

"No. Just her," I said.

"Okay." He turned to his men. "Take your positions. When she comes out, make sure you've got a clear shot before you fire."

"We will sir," said one of the men.

They fell into positions behind trees and shrubs, melting into the background like shadows. I followed my father, then stopped right along the sidewalk and fell to the ground in a heap. I clutched my leg and started moaning and sobbing.

Father nodded in approval, then moved up the walkway and banged on the door. "Hello? Is anyone home? Please, I need to use your phone."

The door opened a crack.

"Who are you and what's the problem?"

My father motioned for me to continue with my fake act and I started crying louder, so she would hear me.

"Please, ma'am, I need to use your phone. My son, he fell down and hurt his leg. I think it's broken," my father lied, sounding anxious. "I left my cell at home and I'd really like to use your phone, so I can call 911. Please! It's an emergency."

"Oww! It really hurts!" I yelled at Father's hand motion.

She opened the door. "The phone's in the hallway. My name is Annie Richardson."

"Matthew. Thank you, I really appreciate this. Could you, uh, go and stay with him till I make the call? He's ten, and he's scared."

"Of course. I'd be glad to. What's his name?"

"Johnny."

My father entered the house and the witch stepped out onto the porch. She was around forty or thereabouts, with short brown hair and a suntanned face. She was wearing a red shirt and jean shorts with sandals.

I kept my head down and began to sniffle, like I was crying. I could feel her magic in my head, it glowed like fire to my senses.

She began to walk down the porch stairs, coming towards me. "Johnny? My name's Annie. Your dad's gone to call an ambulance, they'll be here soon to-" she halted in mid-sentence. "What the-who in Merlin's name are you guys?"

I glanced up to see her muttering a Shield Charm as the Brotherhood men stepped out from the trees.

"You are a witch, woman," intoned one.

"You are immoral, wicked, and unworthy of life," said another.

"Says who? Get the hell off my property." She lifted a hand.

"You are Satan's whore and you are not fit to live," spoke a third. "Thus saith the Lord."

Then they opened fire on her.

Her Shield Charm was no defense against the bullets and she fell slowly to the ground, blood spattering her hair and blooming like crimson flowers on her T-shirt.

My father came out of the house. "Get her inside, quickly."

The men obeyed, lifting the body and bringing it in the house.

Another dragged the hose from around the back and sprayed it at the grass, rinsing away the blood.

Yet another smashed a window.

"It'll look like a B&E," said my father, beckoning me to get up. "The local police will think she was robbed and murdered. But those of her coven will know otherwise. Good job, son. You did very well."

I basked in his praise. I was glad I'd made my father happy.

But at the same time another part of me wept inside and I did not know why.

"Come, son. Your first hunt was a success. Let us continue. Find me another of the devil spawn," my father ordered.

"Yes, Father." I said softly, and concentrated. "That way." I pointed down the street, back into the city limits.

We climbed into the car and I followed the burning glow back, as my father had commanded.

I found three other witches and a warlock for them before my father decided to call a halt for today. He patted me on the head and said I was a good son and a first-class witch finder. Then he said we would stay overnight in one of our safe houses, rather than return to the mansion.

"Lie low for a bit."

I nodded and we drove to a small nondescript apartment block. There we spent the night. Most of the men slept on the floor or the couch. My father got the large bedroom and he allowed me the other one. He gave me another glass of the funny tasting Coke before I went to sleep.

I tried to refuse, saying I wasn't thirsty, but he snarled at me and smacked me across the face. "Drink it. Now! Or shall I get the belt?" His hands moved to his belt buckle.

"No sir! I'm sorry!" I sobbed. "I'll be good." I drank the Coke.

"Good. Now get in bed. Go to sleep like a good boy or else." Then he spun me about and shoved me into the other room, giving me a hard smack on the bottom as he did so.

I sniffled, not understanding why he'd hit me that time. I hurried to obey, removing my uniform and taking the large T-shirt he tossed me. Then I climbed into bed.

"Stay here unless you have to use the bathroom, got me?"

"Yes, Father."

"Good, because if I catch you out of bed for any other reason, I'll whip your ass."

I nodded to show that I understood. He left then, and I could hear him talking with the other men.

I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. But I kept seeing the witch's face in my mind, and instead of feeling glad, I felt terrible. I didn't know why, I shouldn't feel that way. I had done what I was supposed to, fulfilled the command of my father and God Almighty. Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live. I repeated that over and over in my head.

I touched my face, it hurt where my father had hit me. I would try not to disobey again. I really hated getting whipped.

Eventually I fell asleep, and dreamed of the man in black, who held me and promised me nothing would ever hurt me again. But then he disappeared and I saw the witch I had found, falling to the ground to lie still forever, as well as the others we had hunted that day. Their eyes stared up at me, lifeless and accusing.

Traitor. You betrayed us, their voices hissed.

No! I obeyed my father, I shouted back soundlessly. I'm a witch finder. Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.

Then why do you? mocked the first witch. Whose son are you really?

I woke up with the pillow between my teeth, bile rising in my throat. I crept out to the bathroom and spat into the sink. My head was pounding and my stomach felt sick. I drank some water then went back to bed. I pressed my cheek against the cool pillow and cried soundlessly, though again I didn't know why. I fell asleep with tears drying on my cheek.

Well. what did you think?

Next: Severus infiltrates the Brotherhood.