Witch Hunter

Witch Hunter

Ronald N. Goulden, MBA, PMP

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2010 Ronald N. Goulden, MBA, PMP

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover design by bobooks

ISBN: 978-1465822970

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Other Books by Ronald Goulden

Preview - In Defiance of Death

Coming Soon- A Time of Uncertainty

Chapter 1

Jack groaned softly, flexing the tired, aching muscles of his shoulders. While wearing a gun may seem glamorous to some, it had long since lost its glamour for him. The weight of the long barreled .357 magnum revolver pulled on his shoulders.

His fingers caressed the reassuring solidity beneath the nylon windbreaker where the big gun nuzzled his left ribcage. He unzipped the windbreaker to permit some of the steamy perspiration to escape while providing better access to the gun if he needed it.

The closet where he had hidden for almost an hour was becoming stuffy; as much from his stale breath as from the accumulated dust. His arrival was apparently the only disturbance the closet had known for years.

Jack Mitchell watched the dust motes dance across a tiny beam of light. "I hope I don’t sneeze...I’m allergic to dust. He smiled as he thought, Sneezing was what all of the movie heroes did in situations like this."

As he had done countless times in the last hour, he peeked through the small hole in the closet door. This tiny hole was the only source of light within the closet. He had laboriously carved the opening in the door with the point of his knife. Through this small aperture, he confirmed that the store clerk still stood by the cash register.

He watched her take money from the customer while expounding the benefits of ginseng over papaya juice for one condition or another. He had heard so many similar conversations in the last hour that they began to run together. "Never get a job in a health food store."

After the customer left, the pretty clerk returned to a pile of cans on the floor. The cans were randomly arranged on the floor as if someone had knocked over a display of some sort. This was exactly what had happened.

Jack smiled to himself. "I’d waited until the clerk was busy at the register and bumped into a display of canned diet supplement, then darted around the corner before the cans crashed to the floor. In the resulting confusion, I stepped into the closet that would provide a view of the clerk as well as any activity around the front door and cash register."

He passed the time by watching the clerk as she knelt down to clean up his mess. Almost immediately, he found himself distracted from the view of the young woman by the arrival of a woman striding regally through the door.

Jack sucked in his breath and he felt tightness in his chest at the sight of the woman. She glanced around the store, letting her gaze caress the door separating her from Jack. Feeling sure that she sensed him, his right hand edged toward the butt of the big revolver.

He sighed in relief as the strikingly beautiful woman turned her head toward the clerk and demanded imperiously. Susan, what’s been going on here while I’ve been away? You’re hired to mind the store...not rearrange it.

Jack heard the young woman respond nervously, obviously intimidated by the woman addressing her. I... I’m sorry, ma’am. A man was here earlier who knocked over the display of Diet Fast while I was waiting on customers. I hoped to have it cleaned up before you returned.

Jack felt pity for the girl as he saw the older woman brush her long fiery red hair out of her face. She leaned forward slightly as she placed her delicate hands on her hips. Her chiseled jaw tensed visibly as she prepared her tirade against the young woman. Jack tuned out her words, opting to admire her perfect form instead.

"She doesn’t look the fifty four years I know she owns. I suspect there’re other years that I knew nothing about." Her straight hair was fire red and reached almost mid-calf. The blazing hair and coal black eyes gave her a very intimidating, cultivated appearance enhanced by her haughty demeanor that screamed raw power and assurance.

"I’ve got to admit the years have been kind to Yvette Dubois... or at least Satanism has. By my estimation, she’s well over fifty years old and possibly far older, but she had beauty of face and figure that many younger women envied. Her looks are coupled with a worldliness and maturity that few men could ever hope to resist. She’d married many times in the past, but I doubt she had ever divorced... that’s not her style. Jack remembered the last time he had seen Yvette and his reason for coming back to see her again. Years earlier, I’d been a member of her coven. I’d been young and foolish and pursued Satanism as a quick route to power. It had proven to be a short cut to hell. She had taught me much about magic and sex. Witchcraft itself is a very feminist religion. Many of the rituals involved explicit sexual acts. Satanism goes far beyond that. I liked the witchcraft, though Yvette leaned toward the darker Satanism."

A popular series of Science Fiction movies actually explained the dichotomy of witchcraft rather nicely. Witchcraft was the good side of magical abilities and took much longer to master. Satanism was a fast-track to power, though it ultimately corrupted and controlled the user.

Over time, many of the rituals and ceremonies Yvette used began to take on unpleasant aspects. Some of those involved symbolic sacrifices. After the ceremonies, her conversations dwelt upon the advantages of using the living for the sacrifices. "When she proposed using a dog as a sacrifice, I knew it was time for me to walk my own path."

Jack’s attention was suddenly diverted by Yvette’s wrap up speech. ...rest assured that any damages will come out of your pay. Now, go home and get some rest. I will expect you to come in an hour early tomorrow on your own time to clean up this mess.

Jack felt his blood surge slightly, "What is this... a spark of compassion from Yvette? Why is she letting the girl off the hook until tomorrow? I may have hit it lucky and arrived here on a night when she plans to have a black mass. This may turn out to be better than I thought. If I can delay her enough, she may get anxious and be more willing to give me the needed information. She may cooperate with me, just to get me out of here before her coven arrives."

He kept his eye glued to the peephole as Yvette locked the door behind the young clerk. She waited a few moments, then unlocked the door and pulled the shade down; turning around and striding directly toward the closet.

As her hand reached for the door, his right hand grasped the butt of the big gun. "She’s entirely too dangerous for me to take any chances. I’ll have to shoot her without any hesitation. She’s like a wild predator, not to be trusted. Her beauty masks the horrible evil within."

She then turned slightly to her left and opened a neighboring closet door; completely blocking his view. He listened as she rummaged through the contents of the opposite closet. Jack frantically strained his ears to determine the object of her search. "Knowing her, it could be something as innocent as a hairbrush or as ominous as a shotgun."

He controlled his breathing, lest she hear and decide to investigate. "In the narrow closet, I don’t have room to rapidly draw my weapon, if necessary." He relaxed slightly as her footsteps faded toward the front door.

He heard the front door open as Yvette hailed the visitors. Go on downstairs; I’ll be down in a moment or two. There’s live entertainment, so you shouldn’t find the wait too boring. Help yourselves. He listened as several pairs of feet padded across the tile floor of the store. Soon, the tone of the footsteps changed to a muffled sound. Jack assumed that the visitors stepped onto a carpeted surface.

His attention returned to Yvette as she pulled an object from the closet. He started breathing again when he heard her footsteps fade into the distance. "I’d fully expected to hear the accompanying click of a safety being released from a gun. He smiled at the foolish thought. Yvette wouldn’t stoop to the use of a firearm; she had her own special set of weapons she’d use. In her opinion, those weapons were far more effective than mere fire and lead."

He waited a few moments before judging it safe to open the door and get a breath of real air. He pulled the big revolver from its resting place under his left arm. Cautiously, he eased the door open a fraction of an inch at a time.

He was ready for trouble; the big revolver cocked and ready in his hand. There was no more nervousness, he had decided upon his course of action. "If there’s anyone in the room when I step out, they’ll die. I’ve killed countless times in the past while in Viet Nam, and afterward; I can again."

Slowly, under his cautious urgings, the gap between the door and its frame continued to grow. When the gap was no more than three inches wide, the door stopped moving with a light clunking sound. Jack was exasperated, "The door should have moved; it opened freely when I entered the closet."

"Nothing had changed in the hour he had been in there except..." Jack pressed his eye to the carved peephole. All he could see was the door of the other closet that Yvette had neglected to close.

He stuck his left hand out the door and stretched his fingers until he could touch the obstructive door. Through the peephole, he could see the other door move slightly under his fingers.

He kept probing until he could determine the problem. "The other closet door’s caught behind the doorknob of my door, effectively making me a captive in the closet." He gently rattled the door in frustration, hoping to dislodge the other door. However, he had no success; the door was thoroughly lodged behind the doorknob.

Shit. He muttered under his breath. He leaned his back against the closet wall, thinking to kick the door open. As he braced his arms against the wall, he realized that the noise from such action would be too loud. "It’d bring the coven on me in no time, not to mention being turned over to the Saint Louis police. Since I’m carrying a concealed weapon, the St. Louis police would not think kindly of my presence in Yvette’s place of business."

He then briefly thought about punching through the door and pushing the offending door out of the way. Again, the noise from that maneuver would also be too great to risk. "Shit. Shit. Shit."

He holstered the big gun and extracted a small dagger. Using this, he attacked a portion of the door near the doorknob. Soon, he had a square hole carved in the door big enough to accommodate his hand. Jack re-sheathed the dagger and reached through the hole he had made in the door, pushing the door of the opposite closet away from his door.

Stepping into the darkened room, he paused briefly as he let his combat senses adjust to the larger room. When he felt relatively comfortable, he edged forward.

Beneath his feet, he heard human voices chanting in the basement. "The ceremony had begun."

"Since her entire coven is present, my plans of quietly getting information from Yvette are ruined. Now I’ll have to try a bolder plan." He stepped through a curtain and into the carpeted landing.

The darkness within the room was intense; he could not see a thing. He navigated the room by memory, gained from a stolen peek behind the curtains before the young clerk eyed him curiously. Continuing to edge forward on cat feet, his progress was impeded by something that gave only slightly. The object gave the impression that it would not continue to give under his pressure.

Not remembering any type of obstruction in the store that met this description, he explored with his hands. He immediately wished that he had not. The immovable object was obviously a very large and powerful man, placed there as a guard. "I forgot she’s very security conscious when she’s holding a black mass. She has a taste for huge guards."

Jack was not a large man. He was five feet eight and a hundred sixty pounds. However, what he lacked in size, he made up for with unrelenting ferocity. "I’ve yet to meet a man I fear."

While Jack was not an irresistible force, he did have years of training in the martial arts. He had also learned some very helpful tricks while in Viet Nam; including the ability to think on his feet, or in this case, in the air.

The large guard had lifted him completely from the ground with one hand. In his surprise, Jack dropped his gun. A part of his mind focused on where the weapon had landed. "I might need to recover the weapon quickly and don’t want to waste time searching for it in the darkness."

Knowing there was another equally large hand out there waiting to finish him if he did not act quickly; Jack lashed out with his right foot and heard his opponent grunt with pain. In spite of this, he felt the grip on his throat tighten. Jack began throwing punches into the face of his attacker as he thrashed his body about to avoid any punches from the big man.

Jack knew his punches were landing effectively. He had been trained to punch through bricks and he felt the man’s face rearranging itself under his powerful punches. In spite of this, the man still stood and the crushing pain in Jack’s neck remained undiminished.

Jack’s ears rang from lack of oxygen. Knowing he had to gain some respite soon or he would be dead, he stopped punching and grabbed the supporting hand with both of his. He then threw his feet out and up.

The centrifugal force and torque of the maneuver broke the man’s hold on him. It also nearly crushed Jack’s windpipe. Jack fell to the floor gasping in pain for air.

Through the waves of blackness, he sensed the big man reaching for him. From his position on the floor, Jack lashed out with a wild side kick and heard the sound of his opponent’s knee snapping. Jack rolled out of the way of the falling man and leapt on the man’s back as he fell to the ground. Jack immediately applied a choke hold on the man to stifle any screams of pain.

For long moments, Jack maintained the pressure on that man’s neck. The huge man’s struggles to rid himself of Jack dragged the pair from one end of the room to the other. Jack never relaxed his hold on this giant of a man.

Occasionally, Jack would kick the man’s damaged knee. He hoped to make his opponent pass out from the combination of pain and lack of oxygen.

Finally realizing that this would not work, Jack released his hold on the man’s neck. As his opponent gasped for air, Jack struck the side of the man’s head repeatedly with powerful knife-hand strikes.

Feeling the skull cracking under his blows, Jack rolled the body from him and tried to catch his breath. "This is turning out to be more of an ordeal than I expected."

Jack tuned all of his senses to probe the darkness around him to ensure there were no more guards. Satisfied that he was now alone, he groaned softly to himself as he staggered to his feet.

Nearly exhausted, he limped to the alcove where the chanting seemed to emanate. He paused long enough to recover his big pistol and place it in its holster. He leaned forward with his hands on his knees, trying to breathe.

As he silently gasped air into his starving lungs, Jack imagined the scene that was being enacted in the room behind the drapes.

He had participated in similar masses with Yvette countless times before, many years ago. When he was with her, she was just beginning to lean toward Satanism. Her masses were rituals and nothing had lost its life.

I’m sure Yvette had grown far beyond that.

Having regained control of his breathing, Jack edged toward the drapes separating the alcove from the stairs to the basement. He listened for several moments before gingerly easing the fabric aside.

Seeing a second small landing behind the curtains, he quickly stepped through them. He stood quietly on the landing, listening. Below him, he could see part of the basement room.

There were two people in his immediate line of sight. Both wore dark brown robes with concealing hoods. "I know from experience that the witches would soon remove the hoods and robes."

"Soon, they would express their fealty to Satan in an obscene parody of sex. Knowing Yvette, he expected to find four men and eight women in her coven. She liked her men to be satisfied after her rituals."

Jack knew, without looking, exactly where Yvette would be. "The two people I see would be the apex of the mystic circle. The other members of the coven would form the balance of the rough circle."

"Yvette will be directly opposite those in my line of sight. In front of Yvette, will be a symbolic altar bordered by black candles. Behind her will be a brazier burning incense and casting an eerie light on an image of a goat-like Satan."

"Yvette will probably be nude, she’s very proud of her body. In her left hand will be a chalice of red wine; at least I hope it contains wine. In her right will be her Misericord, the dagger that’s the source of all of her power. I know there had been thousands of spells and incantations cast over that Misericord by now. It represents the focal point of all of her power; without it, she’s virtually helpless."

The Misericord is a thin-bladed medieval dagger originally used to give the death stroke to a fallen knight. However, the witches adopted the weapon and used it as the repository of their power. That was where the image of a ‘magic wand’ came from.

He was in a precarious situation. By any standard, only a fool would interfere during an actual black mass. "The coven members will be in a state of near frenzy and barely controllable."

"However, I’ve already killed one of their members. I can’t wait for the ceremony to end and have them report me to the police for murder. I just need to step down the stairs and get what I need from Yvette."

He stepped forward quietly and leaned forward to confirm his predictions and evaluate his chances against the coven.

He immediately wished that he had not. "Yvette’s progressed by quantum leaps in the twelve years since I’d last seen her." He pulled himself back quickly and leaned against the wall of the landing. His breath came in ragged gasps and his eyes watered profusely as the bile rose in his throat.

His predictions had been accurate except that the symbolic altar was now a large butcher block table. The chalice sat empty at the end of a blood trough built into the table.

On the table was the nude body of a young girl Jack judged to be in her early teens. She was bound hand and foot, spread eagled on the stained surface of the butcher block. Yvette’s left hand tightly gripped the girl’s blonde locks, baring her slim neck, situated directly over the blood trough. The dark stains in the blood trough spoke all too clearly that this girl was not the first to sample Yvette’s hospitality.

Jack had to assume that the young girl would die very shortly and that she had probably been raped multiple times by the members of the coven, both male and female. "What a terrible way to lose the innocence of childhood."

Fortunately, the young girl appeared to be unconscious. "At least she’ll be spared from the indignities offered by the coven."

The chanting was reaching a feverous crescendo, "I have to do something soon or the girl will die." However, his immediate urge was to run outside and get violently ill.

Despite his years in Viet Nam, the thought of human sacrifice turned his stomach. The decorated veteran found himself nauseated by Yvette’s actions.

"The proper thing to do would be to get the police. However, would the cops believe me when I claimed to have witnessed a human sacrifice? Being a gun wielding man in a black windbreaker who admitted to breaking into a local shop would hurt my credibility; not to mention that I’ve already killed someone in the other room."

Jack was enough of a realist to know that he did not have time to go out and get sick, nor could he do the proper thing. So he took a breath and muttered to himself, You’re getting too damn old for this Errol Flynn crap. He vaulted over the banister.

He hoped to land with his knees flexed to absorb the impact of the landing; allowing him to execute a jumping sidekick against the man who would be on his left.

Upon landing, he twisted his left knee, sending a lance of pain up his leg. He tried to shrug off the pain as he threw a punch at the surprised man’s face while falling to the floor in agony. Jack ignored the pain and lurched to his feet, punching again.

The punch went wild and his opponent counter-punched with a blow that should have shattered Jack’s ribs. But, the heavy pistol was still concealed under Jack’s windbreaker.

The man’s punch landed squarely on the big gun. There was a loud scream as the man’s wrist and hand broke when the fist slammed into hard steel. The blow was heavy enough to stagger Jack against the wall, gasping for breath.

One thing Viet Nam taught its survivors was how to recover quickly. Jack had survived two hard years in the thick of the jungles of Southeast Asia.

A second man approached as Jack executed a powerful, sweeping front kick to the groin. He followed this immediately by a crushing elbow strike to the man’s head. Jack leaped over the falling man and executed a jumping, spinning back kick into the face of the third man. Jack blocked the punch from the fourth man, neatly breaking the man’s elbow in the process.

One of his previous opponents had regained his feet and attacked again.

Jack countered with a flurry of punches to the face; ending with a low, roundhouse kick that produced a satisfying crack of the knee joint.

One of the female members decided to try her hand against Jack. He quickly chopped her into insensibility, pressing his advantage and gaining Yvette’s side in three quick strides.

At first, Yvette stood paralyzed by the shock of a stranger breaking into her mass. Then she chose to wait as her coven dealt with the intruder.

The shock of recognition prevented her from cutting the throat of her victim. She was in the same position when Jack reached her side as when he leapt over the banister. "I’ve always believed in shock value."

Without hesitation, Jack punched her squarely in her beautiful face with his left fist. As she staggered from the blow to her face, he grabbed the hand holding the Misericord.

While she tried to regain her balance, he grabbed her flame-red hair with his free hand and spun her around.

The shock and pain forced the woman to release her hold on the Misericord; she screamed in pain as the knife fell to the floor.

Jack retrieved the knife and wrapped the fingers of his left hand in Yvette’s long, red hair. Back off. If anyone makes any move I don’t like, I’ll cut your mistress’ head off. He placed the edge of the knife to Yvette’s pale throat for emphasis.

The coven paused, looking to their mistress for guidance.

You know me Yvette; you know that I don’t bluff. If they come near, you’ll be the first to die and meet your lover in hell. Tell them. He jerked on her hair with a force that threatened the roots, making her wince in pain.

She got the message, Listen to him. He’ll do what he says. Let’s hear what he wants. We can always deal with him later. She smiled in spite of her fear and pain, This is one of the two I told you about. The ones who thought they were too good for us... the ones on whom we released the Gromig. The Gromig removed one of them almost immediately, but apparently this one has endured.

The coven shifted uneasily. Those who could do so regained their feet and watched the pair with rapt attention.

"A moment of distraction is all they’ll need to charge me."

Yvette shifted her head slightly to glance at her attacker. I thought you were dead long ago. No one can withstand the attentions of a Gromig. You shouldn’t have walked out on us... you were very good. If you hadn’t left, you might even now be a part of this. Yvette rolled her eyes toward the young girl who was beginning to struggle on the altar. Yvette stroked the young girl’s thigh. Jack tugged on Yvette’s hair to make her stop.

Jack devoted most of his attention to the coven. "I know Yvette well enough to know that her words are messages and instructions to her coven. She’s directing them through her conversation with me."

Well, Yvette, you’ve come a long way. I thought human sacrifice was taboo to all of the covens since the days of Aleister Crowley. You’ve given new meaning to the word, obscene.

She laughed through the pain in her scalp. Sacrifices have always been a part of witchcraft. Symbolic sacrifices have limited effectiveness; they can’t compete with the real thing. Many senior witches have returned to the old ways. We have embraced Satan again. Only through Satan can one achieve full power and magnificence.

Jack risked a glance at the young captive. She was obviously coming out from under whatever drug they had used to keep her manageable. Miss, you’ll be all right, just stay calm. Think of this as just a bad dream.

The young girl looked at him with glazed eyes, but he thought he saw a hint of rationality starting to form in those eyes.

He removed the blade from Yvette’s neck long enough to cut the bonds holding the girl to the table. "I hope I won’t have to deal with a hysterical teen ager and a coven of witches. But, that’s a chance I’ll have to take. The girl will have to leave with me after I get the information I need. If I leave her behind, she’ll die."

The uninjured coven members remained in place; giving no indication that they had any desire to do anything other than watch the intruder in their midst, unless Yvette gave them the command to attack.

Jack allowed himself a grim smile as he glanced at the sacrifice. "The young girl’s rapidly returning to the concept of reality. Her nudity has just become apparent to her." He smiled to himself as she tried the classical maneuver of concealing all of the private parts with two tiny hands.

Noting the girl’s embarrassment, Jack wrapped Yvette’s scarlet locks around the razor edge of her Misericord. If you even sneeze, you’ll lose twenty years of hair. That would be a pity, now wouldn’t it, Yvette?

Standing behind her, he forced the coven mistress to kneel; applying pressure to the top of her shoulder, close to her slender neck.

Once the witch had reached a full kneel, Jack grabbed the rich green robe abandoned by the exhibitionistic coven leader. He tossed the robe to the girl, Here, put this on.

The dazed teen-ager quickly obeyed and slid from the table to shaky legs.

He shot a brief glance at the girl to determine if she would be stable in the current situation. "So far, the young girl appears to be under control."

Stay where you are and we’ll get you out of here safely. I have just a little bit of business to attend to here.

The girl nodded as she hugged her arms close to her tiny body.

Jack returned his attention to the beautiful witch. I need to know where the door is, and I need to know now. Kneeling behind the beautiful witch, Jack threatened her hair with his right hand. He fought the urge to slide the blade across her throat.

Yvette was concerned; her hair was one of her major beauty features. She was very vain about her hair and her beauty. What do you intend to do at this ‘door’, whatever that is? Her tone was transparently mocking.

Quit your stalling Yvette. You know as well as I do what the door is; it’s a geographical location where the wall between our world and the other is very thin. The thinness is the result of some kind of gravitational effect, or of some ancient sorcery.

He continued, Whatever the cause, it is very easy to open the door at these locations. There are several of them throughout the world. However, there are only two in North America that are constantly in an almost open state. These need only a few words to open them. Those two places are New Orleans and here, Saint Louis. The resulting psychic power of the residents of the two cities keeps the doors in a constant state of flux.

He moved his wrist in a threatening manner. That’s why you’re here in St. Louis; to be close to that power.

Yvette laughed, Ah Jack, you learned your lessons well. What do you intend to do when you find and open the door... will you go through it?

She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, No, I don’t think so. You lack the courage for that. She smiled seductively as she spoke.

Save your taunts, Yvette. I’m not a fool...going to the other side would destroy me. Where’s the door? He listened for any sign of movement from the coven members.

She smiled maliciously, Very well, this might prove to be interesting. You fear crossing through the door...but just opening the door will destroy you. The door is just off Hampton Avenue, at the Peres Drainage area.

How do I recognize the place? He eyed the witches as they shifted slightly.

She laughed, You’ll know; it’ll reach out and touch you. However, you need the proper words to open the door, and for that, I will trade you for some information. I want to know your purpose for seeking the place of power.

Jack pondered this for a few seconds, seeing no threat from giving her the information, he decided to tell her the truth. For twelve years, I’ve been haunted by something of that I’ve only just learned the name. I need to destroy this Gromig, or at least send it back to its own world. I’ll find happiness at some time in my life. However, I can’t find it with a supernatural bogeyman hounding me all the time. I’ve paid my price for insulting you and walking out of your coven twelve years ago. I plan to live my life free of your punishments...and I intend to send your Gromig home.

Yvette laughed musically, So you don’t like the company of my little pet? I’ll give you the proper words and incantations to open the door to the other side. Soon, we’ll see if you can manage to force the Gromig through the door. For twelve years, it has been free on Earth. It’ll take far more than your petty abilities to push it through the door.

She laughed musically in spite of the threat presented by Jack. And as for paying your price; you haven’t begun to pay. She glared at him. I will determine when your debt has been paid. I determine the price, not you.

We’ll see, Yvette... the incantation. Give me the incantation. He flexed his wrist slightly for emphasis. His injured knee throbbed horribly. "If I stand around much longer, I won’t be able to walk out of the basement."

She winced as he tugged at her hair. Remember back twelve years ago when we first communicated with the second-level ethereals? Do you remember the incantation? That’s the same incantation you’ll need to open this door. I hope you do remember...I can’t give it to you in its entirety in the presence of my coven. They might be tempted to use it against me.

Jack strained his memory, reciting the incantation in his mind. It was relatively simple. Yeah, I remember it, Yvette. If you’re lying to me, I’ll be back. Think about this Yvette...you don’t want to see me again. He glared at her ominously.

To his surprise, the beautiful redhead laughed pleasantly. Oh, but I do want to see you again, Mr. Jack K. Mitchell. If you survive the place of power, I absolutely guarantee we’ll meet again. The next time we have a reunion, I will be the one to hand out the surprises. There will be no defiance of death for you.

He shrugged his shoulders and looked at the young girl. Do you think you can walk out of here if I help you?

She nodded as she pushed herself away from the table. Jack assumed that there were enough of Yvette’s drugs still in her system to account for the calmness of the child. "Her calm will fade all too soon."

"She’ll probably need therapy for the rest of her life after what’s been done to her in preparation for this night. The events she’s witnessed just in the past few minutes would seriously disturb most children."

OK Yvette, this young lady and I are going to leave now. Since you are so set on our meeting again, I don’t want you to forget me. Let’s give you something to remember me by. With a violent wrench, he twisted the knife through the witch’s scarlet tresses; hurling her to the floor. She fell heavily and painfully to the hard concrete.

He hurriedly bundled up the five feet of red hair and tossed it into the brazier behind him. The hair disintegrated into a foul, gray smoke from the heat of the fire. He spun and with a powerful downward motion, buried the Misericord into the surface of the altar with all of his might. The blade sank several inches into the table top.

Yvette found herself torn between her loss of hair and possible damage to her Misericord. Priorities set in as she scrabbled to her feet and lurched toward the butcher-block table. The satanic dagger was far more important than hair. Hair could grow back; the Misericord was irreplaceable in a normal lifetime; even though she was not constrained by normal lifetimes.

Jack offered the teen ager a supporting arm as he drew his big gun out from under his windbreaker. Tell your coven to be wise. I call the gun Death Maker. If they’re foolish, I’ll show you why I call it that. He smiled invitingly, hoping they would give him that opportunity.

With a supporting arm around the girl, Jack limped toward the stairs. The inactivity after the battle had allowed the knee to stiffen. The question of who was supporting whom was entirely academic.

Moving past the angry witches, Jack made a point of threatening them all with Death Maker’s dark ugly mouth. At a sign from Yvette, they parted to let the couple pass.

When the pair reached the stairs, Yvette hailed him. You know, that’s obscene, giving a name to a gun. She smiled sweetly, You don’t need the weapon...you’re free to go tonight. Tomorrow we’ll release a new evil upon you and the little whore in your arms. You are doomed, Jack Mitchell.

Robbing her of her hair made her his lifetime enemy. "I’ll have to eliminate her threat tonight or never know any rest."