The Witch Hunter Read online

  “I got you a good piece, Sir, no rats have been at it yet,” she covered the goods back up and beamed at me.

  “Very good, girl.” I flipped a coin to her, and she quickly shoved it down the bodice of her old dress. “I will let you know if I require anything else.”

  Samuel rushed up to me carrying a bundle in his arms. “Sir, mother sent me with this dress. She said to tell you tis not proper for a man to ask another man's wife for her garments,” he was breathing hard, his chest pumping rapidly. “Father, she also said to tell you she wants the lavender silk she saw at the shop that you said we couldn’t afford.”

  Harold’s face paled. “Blasted woman always finds a way to get what she wants.”

  I chuckled and slid a few more gold pieces over the bar top. It was far more than the material would cost him.

  “Thank you for your kindness.” I tucked the dress under my arm. “Harold, could you please send a girl up while I’m working to make sure my guest doesn’t require anything?”

  “Not a problem, sir.”

  I rushed away from them both, anxious to return to the room and the lady waiting. I knocked gently on the door.

  “Hello?” She said softly from inside.

  “It is I, Matthew.” I heard her soft steps on the old rough floor and then the lock turned. I pushed the door open.

  “Turn your head please,” she requested as I entered the room. I turned my back to her as she hopped back on the bed and covered herself back up. “Ok, it’s safe,” she said.

  I laid the basket of food on the bed and placed the dress out before her. She tore a large chunk of the bread and shoved it in her mouth. She eyed the dress suspiciously.

  “I feel like I haven’t eaten in ages!” she said taking a bite of the cheese. “Aren’t you going to have some?” she asked me.

  “I have already eaten. This is for you.”

  She gulped the wine and nearly finished the bread off herself. I felt needed, like I was indeed, taking care of her.

  “Thank you,” she pushed at the dress with a finger. “You couldn’t find any pants?”

  “I didn’t want you to draw attention to yourself,” I said. “Only men wear trousers.”

  I wanted to tell her I would do anything for her. I wanted to express that I was at her beck and call, but that seemed strange even to me. I couldn’t imagine what she would think if I said those words out loud. So, instead, I simply nodded.

  “You can sleep here in the bed tonight. I’ll sleep on the floor in front of the door and make sure you are safe,” I told her.

  “Do you think I’m in danger?” she asked, lifting the cup to her mouth.

  “I’m not sure. If a witch did send you here, I can’t imagine why. I don’t want her doing you further harm though.”

  “She sent me here because she thought you would teach me a lesson,” she said quietly, gazing into her wine. “She was angry because I didn’t think you were totally evil for your part in the inquisition. She thought if she sent me here, you would think I was a witch and you would torture and kill me,” she looked into my eyes, making sure she had my undivided attention. “She said you tortured her mother and you made her watch.”

  “Is she from this time? My time?” I asked her. I felt like I was losing my senses to ask such a question.

  She nodded her head and her brown hair moved with the motion. “Yes. She said that she lived because it was believed that if her mother was killed, the evil spirit would leave her. Her name was Sarah Goodfield.”

  I remembered the name. Her mother was indeed tried for witchcraft and was put to death by the rough rope and the short drop. I was her confessor. I took the girl’s testimony against her own mother after she was brought in. It was I that held her back by both arms while she watched her mother lead up to the gallows and executed. “I didn’t torture her mother. But I was there. I was in charge. I sealed her mother’s fate and she was present as the sentence was carried out. I thought it was barbaric to have the girl there to witness such a thing, but others were calling for her death as well. I wanted to keep her near me to ensure her safety.”

  She moved the basket away after having her fill.

  “I am Taryn, by the way. Taryn Guthry.” She held her petite hand out for me to take. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Matthew Hopkins.”

  Chapter Seven

  Samantha

  Taryn wasn’t answering my calls or responding to my texts. I cupped my hands against the passenger side window and looked inside her car. There was no sign that she had come out here at all.

  I rushed back inside, side-stepping the hostess who tried to greet me anew. The professor was still sitting at the table, but his plate was now empty. The game had just ended, and had become aware that he was by himself. He looked around perplexed as if wondering where everyone had gotten to.

  “Sam? Did you find Taryn?” he asked me as I stormed up to the side of the table.

  “No, I didn’t. We need to call the police. I think she’s been kidnapped!”

  My hands were shaking at my sides and I was starting to go numb all over. Adrenalin was shooting through my body. He didn’t even look fazed by my words.

  He smiled and picked his phone up. “Let me just try to call her real quick.”

  “Don’t you think I have already done that. I’m not an idiot.” I slammed my fist on the tabletop. A woman sitting nearby gave a startled gasp and the lounge area fell silent watching me.

  “Is there anything I can help you with Ma’am?” a server asked me, no doubt noticing how distressed I was becoming.

  “No, you can’t fucking help me unless you know where my friend went.” She took a shocked step backwards, holding a large tray in her arms like a shield protecting her body.

  My ears rang with a sudden absence of sound. The room had stopped moving like someone had hit the pause button. The server was still standing in front of me with a terrified expression on her face. The people in the booths were as still as cardboard cutouts with food in their hands and mouths. The radio had ceased its upbeat country beats. I could hear my heart beating in my ears.

  “There is no reason to get yourself so worked up,” a voice said from behind me.

  I turned and faced the woman standing behind me. A satisfied smile played across her red lips.

  “You’re the one that was coming out of the bathroom earlier,” I spat at her. “Taryn said you were giving her problems at her lecture.”

  She laughed, the sound caused a ball of fear to roll around in my belly.

  “What did you do to these people?” I asked her.

  She shrugged at me. “They’re fine. I just stopped time so I could talk to you. They won't even know it happened.” She crossed one leg in front of the other and clasped her hands together.

  “What do you mean you stopped time? What are you some kind of witch or something?”

  “Yes.”

  “What the fuck, lady.” I was almost hyperventilating. “Witches aren’t supposed to be real. None of this is supposed to be possible. You need to start explaining right freaking now. Did you hurt Taryn?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t hurt her. She is simply learning a lesson. You won’t be able to find her. You should just give up and go home. Don’t get involved in something you couldn’t possibly understand.”

  “Ok, what the hell do you mean she is learning a lesson?” I stepped towards her, fully intended to make her tell me where my friend was. I would resort to force if necessary.

  She put a hand up, I felt her power wash over my body. I couldn’t take another step forward. My feet were glued to the floor beneath me.

  “No further,” she said to me.

  “Answer my question,” I demanded.

  “Ms. Guthry believed that the witch hunters deserved sympathy. What's worse is she believed that Matthew Hopkins himself was not evil. He was a monster.” Her eyes were blazing with anger.

  I swallowed hard, forcing my fear to take a backseat. �
�Taryn is the scholar, not me. I don’t know who that is, or what you're getting at.”

  “He killed my mother. But not just her, hundreds of other people lost their lives because of his beliefs. Your friend felt sorry for him. I had to sit there and listen to her paint this pretty picture of him but he was nothing but a devil. He doesn’t deserve to be romanticized.”

  “I don’t understand what he has to do with Taryn.”

  “She needed to see the error of her ways. She is learning what it means to be in the presence of true evil. I have sent her to the time of the Witch Hunter General himself, and she will see for herself what happens when you cross that man's path.”

  I gasped, bringing a hand up to my face. “You sent Taryn back in time? How will she get home? How long does she have to stay there?” I pulled against the magic holding me in place, but it was stronger than I was. “You bitch.”

  “Sticks and stones, love,” the witch laughed, watching me struggle against her supernatural hold over my body.

  I began to feel lightheaded. The room began to spin around me. The witch faded from my vision; her haunting green eyes were the last thing to fade away.

  Slowly opening my eyes again, I was sitting in the driver's seat of Taryn’s car. “How the fuck did I get here?” I asked myself aloud.

  The car was the only one left in the parking lot and the keys were in the ignition. The clock on the dash said it was one in the morning. How long had I been sitting here?

  “Don’t worry, Taryn,” I said as if my best friend was in the seat beside me. “I’m going to find a way to you. I'll save you. No fucking wicked witch is going to stop me.”

  Chapter Eight

  John

  I grabbed the end of the rope I had tied to the carriage and slung it over my shoulder. The old woman would go into confinement whether she wanted to or not. I drug her across the dirt road to the courthouse, face first in the dirt. I heard the sickening sound of her shoulder popping out of its socket as we reached the door. The jailer inside held the door and I kicked her in the ribs a few times to wake her up.

  “Come on! I’m not going to carry you, and you’re heavy too drag. Get up!”

  She regained herself, curling in a ball around her stomach and whimpering. “I can't walk anymore. Just leave me here to die.” I grabbed the rope that bound her wrists and hefted her to her feet. She screamed in pain as her body registered the shoulder injury but stayed on her feet. The jailer took the rope out of my hand to take her away.

  “Go on then. Go to your cell. I hope you enjoyed your nap in the dirt because you will not be sleeping again any time soon,” I looked at the young man holding the rope. “She does not sleep. Tie her to a chair and take turns keeping her awake.”

  “Yes Sir,” he responded.

  “Unless you wish to confess your sins now,” I said to the woman. She spat in my face. I pulled my hand kerchief from my pocket and wiped her spittle from my face. “As I thought, whore. You are a fool if you think I will not break you.”

  The jailer grabbed her by her arm and pulled her towards the back where the cells were located. “No please!” she cried out. “I’ve done nothing wrong, nothing! Please, just let me go home!”

  She pulled against the guard's strong grasp to no avail.

  “On second thought,” I said loudly. The guard paused and looked at me over his shoulder. “Perhaps I have a bit of time to spare with our witch.”

  “You want me to take her to the interrogation room instead then?” he asked.

  I closed my hand on the hilt of my dagger, sheathed, and attached at my hip to my trousers. “Yes, that would be splendid.”

  I took my time with the witch. I didn’t damage her though. Matthew would not have cared for that at all. After all, the interrogation phase had not yet arrived. Still, you do not have to leave marks on a person to brand their soul. She would be much more receptive to me in the future.

  It was time for an ale. I was still a bit angry with Matthew that he would put our work on hold for some woman. A woman he did not yet know anything about. He was acting strangely too. It seemed like the moment he laid eyes on her; he just went soft. He was the leader in our little operation. Once we had a list of names, he turned them over to me to procure their confessions. But we needed his skills to lead them to the gallows. He was a trained lawyer before we got our higher calling from the maker himself and those skills came in handy during their trials. He was the one to be feared. I could inflict pain, but he could make anyone believe they were guilty even if they weren’t. Not that any of them were innocent.

  I entered the inn through the ale house door and took a seat at the far end of the bar, hoping to be left alone. Harold, the barkeep, slid an ale down my way and nodded in understanding. He was aware I wasn’t one for conversation. Matthew usually handled all of the talking for us, but damn him, he was up with that harlot.

  She had been as naked as the day she came into the world when we found her. Perhaps he was taking advantage of that and putting her body to use on that rented bed of his. I hadn’t seen much of her, Matthew covered her so quickly, but what I did see suggested that she was in very fine form. Perfect for emptying one’s cock.

  I signaled Harold for another ale and he obliged me at once. “I saw your friend carry a woman up to his room,” he said to me with a crooked grin.

  “So?” I answered taking a deep drink of the bitter liquid. “Why is it my business if he takes a whore to bed?”

  “Whores usually walk themselves in,” he said, smiling at me. I sat the glass down and glared at him.

  He put his wet rag upon the counter and began smearing the dirty water around.

  There were two men at a table not very far from where I sat who seemed to be paying very close attention to our conversation. “Henry was in after you all returned here. He said you found her laid out in the middle of the road with not a stitch on her body. He said your boss was bewitched by her.”

  “Matthew Hopkins doesn’t get bewitched. He thinks she hit her head. But I wouldn’t be surprised if she were a witch.”

  One of the men close by asked me, “Since when do you take all your clothes off and lay on a road after hitting your head? Makes no sense, makes no sense at all. I think it’s much more likely that the girl is a witch herself. Sent to end your witch hunting career before you can stamp out her kind for good, she was,” he slammed his mug down and ale spilt over his hand. He licked his fingers off one by one. “I think you should lock her up with the rest.”

  “We can’t lock her up without a warrant. Her name isn’t one of the names we were given,” I said. “Although, if I could find a way to add it, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

  Harold spoke, “What’s her name then? Maybe someone here knows of her?”

  “Actually, I don’t know what her name is,” I said.

  The man with the spilled drink stood up. “Then how do you know you don’t have her name,” he asked pointedly.

  I tried to remain calm. They were getting too upset over the whole matter, and Matthew would be furious if they broke his door down, especially if he was having his way with her.

  “I guess we will all know more once she wakes up,” I told the men, attempting to quiet them down, at least for the time being.

  “Please keep us informed,” Harold said. “I don’t like the idea of a witch bedding down under my roof.”

  “I will.”

  I had no delusions that they would simply forget about her. With any luck, Matthew would have his fun with her, turn her back onto the street and let whatever happens, happen. But I knew better. He was raised by his father, James Hopkins, who was the vicar of St. Johns of Great Wenham, and he was raised according to the laws of the church. Because of that, if he didn’t suspect her of evil doing, he wouldn’t throw her out onto the street to fend for herself.

  I stayed in the alehouse for quite a while, listening to the conversations going on around me, until the sun finally began its descent beyond the trees and
I decided to call it a night. If only I had a nice warm whore to curl up with.

  I had to pass Matthew’s room on the way to my own. I raised my hand to knock but stopped short and placed my ear upon the door instead. I had hoped to hear sounds of rutting but the only sound I heard was Matthew’s gentle snoring. No doubt the fool was on the floor and not curled beside her naked body. I resisted the urge to pound my fists on the door simply to rouse them both from sleep. I wanted to kick the door in and drag her out by her long hair and throw her back into the street where she belonged, but I did nothing. I pushed my anger down. Tomorrow I would find a way to rid us of her presence and reclaim my associate. I would not have his brain muddled by her when so much of our job depended on him having his full mental faculties, engaged. I would protect him from the witch's wiles at all costs.

  My door was two down on the same side of the hall. I stomped my way down the hall and inserted my key into the lock just as the serving girl, Elizabeth, turned the corner. Now that’s what I needed to take my mind off Matthew and his woman. I had fancied her in the bar while I watched her serving the other men. The roundness of her breasts enthralled me. I could tell they were heavy beneath the bodice of her simple gown. They swayed like pendulums as she filled glasses from her pitcher. When she smiled at her patrons, I imagined that pretty mouth wrapped around my cock and it aroused me. Now she was within my grasp.

  “Is there something you need Sir?” she asked, noticing my eyes on her as she tried to pass.

  I blocked her way and backed her up against the wall. She stared back up at me with her hands at her sides. “As a matter of fact,” I started stepping closer to her. “I noticed, going through our documents today that your name is actually the last name on our list,” I lied very effectively.