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Chapter 23 - Visit to Swamp

After dealing with Fiona, the three members of the Witchcraft Council departed quickly.

Looking at Rai, Cordelia, and Madison beside her, Zoe exhaled in relief. "It went just like we expected. Fiona's gone. We should be safe now, right?"

"Only for the moment." Cordelia shook her head. "From what I know of my mother, the closer she gets to death, the more she'll do anything, Council or no Council."

"Yes. That is exactly who Fiona is." A voice cut in.

It was Myrtle, who had just left and now returned alone.

Rai and the others weren't surprised.

Everything that happened today had been planned by Cordelia and Myrtle.

As the vanguard against Fiona and as Cordelia's foster mother who had raised her from childhood, spending far more time with her than Fiona ever did, Myrtle was absolutely trustworthy.

"Time is tight. Before Fiona swings her butcher's knife, we have to move faster." Myrtle looked around at everyone, then fixed her gaze on Cordelia and said, one word at a time, "It's time to hold the Seven Wonders trial."

The Seven Wonders were Salem's highest test of selection.

Only a witch who passed the Seven Wonders was qualified to serve as Supreme Witch.

Cordelia hesitated. "But… they've studied for too short a time."

Myrtle shook her head. "When Fiona makes her move, she won't care how long they've studied."

Cordelia thought for a moment. "Let's hold off on the Seven Wonders for now. We should bring Nan back first."

Among the young witches, one was dead and another gravely injured.

Of those still alive, Madison, being ill, was out first, which left only Zoe who could even attempt the Seven Wonders.

They couldn't pin all hope on one person.

Cordelia looked to Rai. "Rai, could you run to the swamp and bring Misty back? Ask her to help revive Nan."

"No problem."

Rai, who had been quietly watching, flashed an OK sign as Cordelia called his name.

Myrtle did not object.

So, after a few quick words to Zoe and Madison, Rai drove off alone toward the nearby wetlands.

Outside the Academy.

Dragging a suitcase and wearing a stormy face, Fiona walked down the street.

A burly middle-aged man in a dark suit, more than a little like a beleaguered artist, appeared at her side and rasped, "Want to stay at the new place I just set up? Or I can go back with you and we'll kill all those witches together."

As he spoke, his hand brushed the axe at his hip.

He was the famed Axeman of New Orleans.

After his ardent confession to Fiona the previous night, she had used magic to pull him back into reality, freeing him from his permanent confinement.

Fiona first shook her head, then chuckled coldly. "Let that bitch Myrtle enjoy herself for a minute. She thinks she finally beat me? That she can topple me forever? How naive. I don't even have to guess right now; she's pushing my idiot daughter to choose the next Supreme as fast as possible. Fine by me. Saves me trouble."

"We wait. When the dust settles, I'll draw the net tight. As for now…"

Fiona abruptly stopped.

She had spotted a familiar man hovering uncertainly in a corner, eyes fixed on the Academy.

Hank.

Once her daughter's husband, now has a new identity: witch hunter.

A glint of cold light flashed in Fiona's eyes. She changed tack. "Since the Council wants me to solve the witch-hunter problem, perfect. I'll just handle one right now. Consider it a contribution I make, as Supreme Witch, to the sisterhood."

With that, she stepped forward, vanishing.

An instant later, she popped into existence right in front of Hank.

New grudges on top of old, she smiled at her startled, terrified son-in-law. "Hank, remember what I said would happen if I laid eyes on you again?"

"N… Aahhhh…"

A shrill scream split the shadows.

After a long moment, quiet returned.

To the crackle of flames, Fiona emerged, calmly flicking blood from her hand, murder burning hotter in her eyes. "And look at that, I've found you. The Delphi Trust. A pack of witch hunters, and you've turned it into a business and a big one."

"Excellent."

Unaware that a whole family drama had erupted near the Academy, Rai drove his beloved sedan toward the place Misty had told him she lived when they last parted.

On the road idly, one hand on the wheel, full-on veteran driver mode, Rai summoned the Grimoire of the Eternal Prison and flipped through the many new pages now thickening it, examining them one by one.

[No. 005]

[Name: Klute]

[Type: Voodoo witch]

[Status: Contained] [Ability: Slowing Curse]

[Notes: A loyal servant of the Voodoo Queen, keen to spread the Voodoo creed, was cut down not long after his work began.]

This was the witch who had ambushed him in a corner with a slowing hex; Rai had killed him and then put his corpse to use to mislead another witch into a humiliating death.

The next page was that unluckiest of witches.

Only by reading the Grimoire's entry did Rai learn anything about the young woman who'd died to two quick cuts without a flicker of resistance.

[No. 006]

[Name: Agassi]

[Type: Voodoo witch]

[Status: Contained]

[Ability: Corroding Arrow]

[Notes: A Voodoo witch with decent talent, but she spent most of her time doing hair; real combat experience is pitiably thin. Remember: screaming won't stop an enemy from killing you in one stroke.]

Then:

[No. 007]

[Name: Vargas]

[Type: Voodoo witch]

[Status: Contained]

[Ability: Craft Voodoo Dolls (Curse; Effigy)]

[Notes: A close aide to the Voodoo Queen and a master of voodoo-doll making. The effigy at the Queen's waist was her pride and joy. If she weren't aged and more inclined to gift her dolls to juniors, trust me, she would not have been easy to take down.]

This was the old crone Rai remembered best.

Inside the flesh labyrinth, counting the team-up with Zoe, he'd killed seven Voodoo witches in all.

Only she had taken the time and managed to hurt him.

Voodoo dolls are wonderful things.

Especially the effigy kind, they'll soak a fatal hit for you.

As for the cursing kind, Rai had just lived through that, but his mind slid, unbidden, to Queenie.

What a gift that girl had.

Rai once again felt the tug of longing.

Then, like a flashbulb, his brain served up an image of a three-hundred-pound "black princess" of a meatball. He shuddered hard and shook himself clear.

It wasn't about not being "man enough."

He simply couldn't.

A person has to have a line they won't cross.

Rai sighed, then flipped on through [No. 008], [No. 009], [No. 010], [No. 011].

All witches, but none came close to the old crone, not even close to Madison.

Say what you will about Salem witch numbers dwindling each generation.

They certainly couldn't match the Voodoo side's birthrate; over centuries, their headcount never dropped, if anything, it grew.

But on quality, Salem blew Voodoo out of the water.

Zoe had only been at the Academy a short time, yet once she awakened to communion, she could interrupt a full-blown Voodoo witch mid-casting. And she still wasn't Supreme.

You can imagine how high Salem's talent ceiling goes.

The Voodoo witches Rai cut down all had narrow kits.

Only the old crone's [Craft Voodoo Dolls] truly merited his interest.

[No. 009]'s [Falcon's Eye] wasn't bad either.

Voluntary pupil contraction, near-far focal shifts convenient for scoping a girl's roo… ahem, for long-range vision and spotting threats early.

Shame it didn't bundle night vision, infrared, or, heaven help us, x-ray.

Rai's eyes drifted back to [Craft Voodoo Dolls].

If nothing better turned up, once he saved enough Grimoire points, his third awakened ability could well be this.

No rush, though.

This time, he had contained eight witches for eighty days of free time.

Adding what remained from before, he had nearly three months off the clock.

If he could tie off the Fiona situation cleanly, he fully intended to relax and enjoy a round of capitalist sugar-coated bullets.

Work hard, play hard, that's the way.

Humming a tune, Rai drove on. Buildings thinned on both sides of the road, replaced by dense stands of trees.

Misty lived far out; for a long stretch, there wasn't even a road. You had to trek through the wetland and watch for bog traps.

Rai was deciding where to pull over.

Suddenly..

A figure shot out of the roadside brush, about to share a very intimate moment with the Chevy's front end. Rai stomped the brakes.

Tires screamed across asphalt.

The bumper kissed the hem of the figure's clothes and stopped.

Heart thumping, Rai stuck his head out and shouted, "Got a death wish? In a hurry to go meet the death?"

The person, collapsed on the ground from fright, brightened at his voice. "Rai? Is that you?"

Rai blinked, got out, and walked closer. It was Misty.

He hadn't even gone looking for her, yet she'd run right to him.

He hauled her up. "I was just on my way to find you."

"I was coming to find you," Misty said, breathless, a ripped net dress doing nothing to hide that figure, eyes still flitting nervously around.

No time for pleasantries, she grabbed his arm, urgent. "Hurry! Rai, take me away! Some very bad people are trying to kill me!"

"Very bad people? Hunting you?"

Rai frowned, and his first thought was that the witch hunters from the night before the most qualified professionals for that job.

He patted her trembling back. "Easy, Misty. With me here, no one is going to hurt you. You said people are after you. Did you see what they looked like?"

"No." Misty shook her head. "I felt something really bad and ran. Not long after, I heard noises at my place, then footsteps getting closer and closer. I was scared, so I thought I'd run to you."

"What a coincidence."

Rai glanced the way she'd come, then led her to the car and handed her the keys. "Know how to drive? If something feels off, take the car and go."

As an American teen who'd narrowly avoided being burned as a demon, Misty, of course, knew how to drive. She took the keys, puzzled. "What about you?"

Rai patted the pistol at his waist. "You can't hide forever. I'll go solve your problem. Consider it payment for the help I'm about to ask. There's a girl, died unlucky. We need you to bring her back."

"No problem," Misty said without thinking.

Then she got back out, took a deep breath. "I'll take you in. I know this place better."

Rai eyed her and smiled. "You sure it's not that you're scared to sit here alone?"

"…A little." Misty was perfectly honest, then added, "Also, I feel safer at your side. Rai, did something happen lately? Your life scent is stronger than ever."

Eyes bright, Misty leaned in, nose working eagerly over him.

When her pretty, grown-up makeup with that hint of youth started rubbing along his shoulder and both hands and both legs looked set to join, Rai cleared his throat. "Focus. You're being hunted."

Misty snapped back, not shy, just regretful, and peeled off him.

Then, under Misty's guidance, Rai led the way through thick brush.

With his current strength, as long as he wasn't facing a whole squad, a few people were easy.

"Thomas, you sure she ran this way?"

"Course. Believe in my tracking. In these swamps, I'm the number one hunter."

"That's for gators. Not humans."

"Same principle. Trust me, Glenn, people are easier than gators, sometimes."

Thomas hefted his shotgun, speaking to Glenn, his partner of decades.

Swamp hunters are a profession unique to this slice of New Orleans.

Because alligators breed too fast and unbalance the ecosystem, the government sells hunting tags so swamp hunters can cull them and sell the bodies.

Thomas and Glenn were big names around here.

Not only had they bagged lots of gators without a scratch, in this lawless patch, more than a few fellow "professionals" had vanished after crossing their path.

Hunting gators and hunting people, sometimes there's no real difference.

"Thomas, is that woman really a witch? I mean, are witches even real?"

"Of course! What young woman lives alone in a swamp? Only evil witches hole up in deserted places doing evil experiments."

"Or maybe she just likes the wilderness? I've seen plenty of people like that on YouTube, brains all scrambled."

"No! I'm dead sure she's a witch!"

Fear, disgust, and a lust to destroy flashed in Thomas's eyes.

"I saw it with my own eyes, her palm on a dead gator, and in no time, the gator was alive again. It's blasphemy! The Devil's work!" he said, trembling with righteous fury.

His hands might be soaked in blood, but that didn't stop him from being devout.

Glenn wasn't quite as devout; he shrugged. "Fine, fine. You sure you didn't see wrong?"

"Absolutely. On my honour as a hunter!"

"All right then. Let's kill her."

"But first, Thomas, give me a little time to enjoy the witch. She's quite the tempting little thing, isn't she?"

Glenn wore the smile all men understand.

Thomas knew his partner's tastes and didn't blink. "Suit yourself. But be quick. Consider it punishment for a witch."

"Exactly. Punishment! You're right on, Thomas."

"Of course…I've read…"

He broke off, body going still, arm up to bar Glenn. Then, out of nowhere: "Have you ever thought about what kind of punishment we'd get?"

"Huh?" Glenn stared at his partner's sudden weirdness. "What are you talking about, Thomas?"

"I'm saying… huh? Why was I saying that?"

Thomas looked blank.

Bang! Bang!

Two shots cracked.

A flock of birds exploded up, and Thomas and Glenn slumped, never to speak again.

Not far off, Rai dropped his mental nudge, lowered the M4 from his shoulder, and flashed an OK back toward Misty. "All done."

After last night's battle, he'd spent through all his ammo, but he'd looted more guns off the witch hunters' corpses than he had before; his morals were flush.

Up against two swamp hunters rather than the witch hunters he'd suspected, this was child's play.

Rai didn't know the witch-hunter command had been blown to bits by witchcraft the night before; headless, they'd already pulled out of New Orleans.

He brought Misty over to the bodies, eyed the neat holes in their foreheads, and gave himself a silent thumbs-up. "Know them?"

Misty thought, then pointed at Thomas. "I think I've seen him."

"Then you'll need to be more careful. Living alone in a swamp draws eyes. Remember, compared to the beasts, humans are far more dangerous."

Rai bent, took the shotguns from their hands, and passed them to Misty.

"Take the lesson. If you meet someone and feel bad intent, don't hesitate. Shoot."

"It's for your safety and for the planet's swelling population and collapsing ecological balance."

Rai put on a look of sacred mission.

"For a while, I was a fan of that purple potato guy(Thanos) who ran 'universal population plan.' But I'm not as selfless as he is. If I got to choose which half survived, all my people would stay. But others go. That'd be right."

"So I don't care who will die outside my people."

Misty gripped the shotgun and nodded like she was really taking this in.

She had her own take.

If all those animal-killing, ugly-hearted types disappeared, a lot of species wouldn't go extinct and might even thrive.

The world would be better.

With that thought…

Looking at the man who was a temptation in both mind and muscle, Misty couldn't hold back. She dropped the shotgun, leapt into Rai's arms, powerful legs cinching his waist, head dipping in for a hot, delighted kiss.

This time, Rai didn't refuse.

In the movies, after a big fight, doesn't the hero always kiss the beauty 360 degrees, no dead angles, full French?

But when Misty wanted more sky for a blanket, earth for a bed, the lady knight, mounting Rai, still stopped her.

Not to tease.

Nan was lying dead at home; everyone was waiting for him to bring help.

Indulging himself right now would be rude in the extreme.

Though disappointed, Misty climbed off him as told.

"I'll grab some healing mud," she said, kissed his cheek, and ran into her place.

Misty's home was a wreck. Thomas and Glenn had left things in shambles.

Her most beloved record player, though, was fine.

To Stevie Nicks's airy voice looping on vinyl, a buoyant Misty sang and danced as she deftly mixed clumps of tillandsia and alligator droppings, packing the grey-cement-like paste into a satchel.

Watching, Rai made a firm, final decision.

Absolutely, absolutely never let Misty use her hands.

Rai had left in the morning.

With the round trip and the time spent on two swamp hunters, it was around noon when he drove Misty through the Academy gates.

As the iron gate swung open, a stately, white, three-story house nestled in flowers and greenery came into view. Misty's eyes shone with curiosity. "What a beautiful place. Is it all witches inside?"

"Everyone but Cordelia is your age. You've met Zoe, Nan, and Madison. The one we're saving, Nan, is the only one you haven't met," Rai explained.

"Oh, and if your idol Stevie Nicks really is a witch, once we've brought Nan back, ask Cordelia about meeting her. I doubt she'd refuse."

"Really??"

"Of course."

Misty's eyes lit like stars full of hope.

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