The first time I returned was two weeks ago, when I was absolutely sure that no Hunters were on my trail. I’d killed the fast one and lost the rest. I was fairly certain that they wouldn’t expect me to return. After all, there would be no point in me coming back and it would be stupidly dangerous. Given that logic I was expecting there wouldn’t be many Hunters at the cottage. Wrong! There were twelve. I think they were using it as a base from which to try to find Mercury. There was a magical cut in space that she used to travel to her real home. A cut like the one Gabriel and I used to get to the cottage from the apartment in Geneva. My father said that Hunters could detect cuts so I guess that by now either Mercury has destroyed the cut to her real home or the Hunters have found the way through and Mercury is dead too. And if Mercury is dead then I’ve no idea what will have happened to Annalise. But Mercury wouldn’t be careless, or slow, or weak. I think she’ll have destroyed the cut, covered her tracks well so this valley is a dead end for the Hunters as well as for me.
That first time I came back to the cottage Clay was here and in a foul mood, shouting a lot. Jessica was with him. She has a long scar from her forehead across her nose and cheek where I cut her—or rather where the Fairborn cut her. Clay didn’t seem to mind that, though; he and Jessica still seemed to be an item. He put his arm round her and kissed the tip of her nose. At one point he came close to the forest edge, hands on hips, legs apart. He seemed to be staring straight at me. I was well hidden and he couldn’t see me but it was as if he was waiting for me.
I came back to the cottage again a week ago. There were only six Hunters left and I expected Clay to be one of them: I thought he knew I’d come back but he wasn’t here. Instead I had the pleasure of seeing Kieran. And there was a different atmosphere this time. The remaining Hunters were sunbathing, laughing, messing around. It was almost like a holiday camp, except these are Hunters and they’re never on holiday. They definitely didn’t look as if they expected the son-of-you-know-who to turn up.
I studied Kieran: he was stripped to the waist, his hair was sun-bleached, his face ruddy brown, and his body huge and heavy with muscle. He’s almost as big as Clay. They’d set up an obstacle course of logs and climbing frames, ropes and a crawl net. Despite his size Kieran was always the fastest and he mocked the others for being slow. When it came to the sparring it was clear that the girls were beginners. Kieran’s partner was good; Kieran, excellent. Still, I reckon I could take him in a straight fight but his Gift makes it much trickier as he can become invisible. One of the girls seemed to be able to set things on fire and another could send out bolts of lightning but they were both pretty weak Gifts. I couldn’t work out what Kieran’s partner or the other girls could do.
Hunters are mainly women but there are a few skilled male witches. They only recruit the strongest and fittest, partnering males together and females together. I’ve never heard of Hunters being anything other than British before now but two of the girls weren’t. They spoke some English, but to each other and sometimes to Kieran’s partner they spoke in what I think was French. As far as I know the White Witch Councils in Europe have never trained Hunters and never hunted Black Witches like they do in Britain. Gabriel told me that here in Europe the Whites and the Blacks each kept to their own areas and ignored each other, and Hunters were only used in extreme circumstances to track specific witches, my father being one of them. If they’re recruiting local White Witches it seems to be a sign that Hunters are expanding their operations.
I watched them all day. I knew I shouldn’t have. I knew I should have been at the cave waiting for Gabriel but I couldn’t tear myself away. I watched Kieran shout at his partner and remembered the day he and his brothers caught me, cut me, tortured me. I’m more shocked now by what they did than I was at the time. I was fourteen, small, a kid. Kieran would have been twenty-one then, and he made his younger brothers join in, made Connor put the powder on my back, joked about it, joked at their weaknesses as much as mine. And he didn’t just cut and scar me but branded me too: B on the left side of my back and W on the right. And that’s what I am: a Half Code, half Black, half White, not belonging to either side.
And now I’m back a third time. I’ve approached the cottage from above, through the forest. The sun isn’t over the mountain peaks to my left but the sky is light. I’m not sure why I’m here but I won’t stay long. I just want to check on things one last time.
The cottage is built high on the steep valley wall, on the edge of the forest, with an open meadow of grass below. Most of the valley is covered in forest, though the high ridges and peaks are above the treeline and the gray rocks hold some snow in sheltered pockets even in summer. At the top of the valley there is permanent snow and the glacier, and from that runs the river. The river is far below the cottage and can’t be seen from there but still it can be heard: its roaring is constant.
I pad down to the edge of the trees. There are no sounds except for the buzzing in my head that their mobile phones set off. The buzzing is faint, though. Not many phones. Not six. Two, I guess. Both in the cottage. So they must have pretty much given up on Mercury and they think I’ve gone and am not dumb enough to come back. But guess what? Here I am.
It’s properly light now.
I really should go.
But I can’t face sitting at the cave, waiting for Gabriel, when he has to be dead. Yet I want to see Gabriel and I promised him I’d wait, as he promised me, and I know he’d wait more than a month and—
The latch of the cottage door rattles and a Hunter steps out.