They were coming. Anne could hear the angry shouts of the mob, led by that monster Matthew Hopkins, claiming to be doing the Lord’s work. With so many deaths of both the townsfolk and their livestock, they’d readily accepted his accusations of witchcraft. All she’d done was walk by Richard Edward’s pasture, quite innocently on her way home after visiting her husband’s grave, and when one of his cows had fallen as she passed they’d taken up the fearful, hate filled cry of ‘witch!’.
She’d panicked then and fled the town, seeking refuge in an abandoned old cottage where she hoped they wouldn’t think to look for her, but now they were coming and there was nowhere left to run. Not unless she wished to brave the River Stout, but she had grown to fear the water after her Robert had drowned.
Alone and afraid, Anne could hear them drawing closer and fell to her knees to pray. Her ankle throbbed angrily from when she’d twisted it during her flight. The struggle onwards had all been for nought. She was under no illusion as to what would happen when the mob caught her; the self proclaimed Witchfinder General had worked them into such a frenzy that she doubted she would even make it to a trial.
“Mercy Father, please grant me mercy, let them see my innocence.”
No reply was forthcoming as the mob kicked open the door. She whimpered and began to beg the townsfolk instead, all those she’d grown up with. Her pleas fell on deaf ears as she was seized by two of the men and dragged roughly outside.
***
Matthew was already convinced of her guilt. She would hang for her crimes, her and all the rest of her wretched coven. He had no love of women, and witches were the worst kind. They were surely to blame for everything through their accursed Devil worship, for how else could such evil have befallen him, a man of God? Perhaps if he rid the town of their kind, God would see fit to free him from the curse they had placed on him, a curse he had taken great pains to hide from his fellow townsfolk, for they must not turn on him. One man alone could not accomplish this great task he had taken upon himself, so he had spread the word of this devilry, playing the town of Manningtree until the others began to see the ‘truth’ in his words and thus lent him their support. So it was the witch hunt began, and the hangings soon followed.
Unbeknown to Matthew, the real prize had met in School Wood, gathered round a fire. The coven did not fear this man, who had yet to hang a real witch, though they pitied the poor women he paraded through that farce of a courtroom.
“What news, sister?” Elizabeth asked their leader.
Margaret Moone stirred as if returning from some deep trance, fixing her gaze on her sisters. “Matthew’s hatred has risen to new heights. It is time we put a stop to this, for the sake of women everywhere.”
“And risk outing ourselves to save the life of one woman?” Rebecca scowled.
Margaret held out her arm as a raven appeared in the gloom. Her familiar was careful not to hurt her as he landed, and she stroked him as she talked. “The mob come for Anne Leech this night, I have seen it through the eyes of Blackwing. It is in our power to save her and this we will do. These women are all our sisters and they do not deserve such cruel fates.”
“Yes sister,” the others murmured, though somewhat reluctantly in Rebecca’s case.
A spasm of pain shot through the old scar on Margaret’s cheek. “Fear not, I will not ask the six of you to sacrifice yourselves. Tonight this task falls to me, for we have unfinished business, Matthew and I.”
“What must we do?” Elizabeth said.
“I ask only for the combined magic of the coven to grant me the power to put a stop to the Witchfinder General. Chant with me,” their leader bid them, picking up the ceremonial blade which lay at her feet. “The hunters must become the hunted, if poor Anne is to escape unscathed. The time has come to summon them.”
“But if we do this we reach out to the blackest of magics,” Elizabeth gasped. “Sister, is this wise?”
“Dark times call for dark acts,” Magaret said. She had been purely a white witch once, only working white magic for the good of others. But there were some things only dark power could accomplish, and the darkness of others had driven her further and further into the dark arts. “It is time.”
***
Before the mob could drag Anne any further, a fire sprang to life. A fierce blaze burned on patches of ground in and around the mob, the clothes and hair of the two who’d seized the innocent woman catching fire. Yet the flames never touched Anne herself, as if an invisible barrier protected her. Anger turned to panic and Matthew knew he had to rally them or risk losing his supporters to fear.
“Our faith protects us from witchcraft!” he bellowed with all the religious fervour of a true believer. In truth he no more shared in the faith of Christianity than the witches did, no matter how much he told himself he had become a man of God. But he had to keep up the pretence for himself as much as the other townsfolk. “Suffer not these Devil worshippers to walk the Lord’s earth, and He shall protect us from their Devilry!”
“See how the flames cannot touch the witch!” Prudence shouted, hoping to earn Matthew’s favour. His abstinence from female company further proved his holiness in her eyes, and it only served to draw her closer to him. She believed God had brought the two of them together, if only he could see the support she would lend his crusade through marriage.
“Prudence speaks true, see the proof of her witchcraft!” Matthew yelled. If Prudence had known the real reason he did not seek to lie with women, she would lose all interest in becoming his wife. His impotency was only the beginning of the curse that had been laid upon him, and it had merely strengthened his hatred.
“The witch summons her familiars!” a man shrieked in fear, as a growl sounded to their right. “It’s the beasts that killed William and his livestock, and all them others earlier this year!”
In the gloom a pack of huge wolfish dogs with glowing red eyes could be seen, advancing towards them. The creatures lunged into the mob, just as a demonic figure riding a Hellish sabre-toothed feline beast charged towards them, wielding a sword made of Hellfire. The mob broke and began to flee, the last of their courage deserting them, screams of fear and pain filling the night. But the targets of these demonic forces were not random. They were bound by Margaret’s will, and only those she and her coven had named were snatched in the jaws of the Hellhounds and the demon’s mount, or cut down by that unearthly blade. After all, most of the townsfolk were not truly to blame for the horror of the witch trials, the cruel few leading astray the many. Matthew was glad to see that stupid whore, Prudence, ripped apart by one of the canines, ridding him of her tiresome pursuit of the heart he did not have to give.
Blinded by hate, the Witchfinder General strode towards Anne, undeterred by the flames and the Hellish creatures. The two who’d been dragging her had fled, desperately trying to put out the fire spreading over them, only to be snatched by the Hellhounds. Between the flames and the teeth of the beasts, little of their flesh would remain untouched before their mortal remains were left to rest in pieces.
Anne lay sobbing wretchedly on the ground. She didn’t understand what was happening, and she was too terrified to try and flee. Matthew grabbed her arm and forced her to her feet. The other townsfolk might be deserting him, but he would not turn away from his duty, and no pact with demons was going to stop him.
He dragged Anne away from the commotion, behind the cottage. She began to panic as she realised where Matthew intended to take her, but though she struggled with all her might, she was no match for the strength of his hatred.
At the edge of the River Stout he forced her to kneel, letting go of her arm to grab her hair instead.
“Anne Leech, you stand accused of witchcraft,” he intoned almost gleefully. “The penalty for which is death. May your sins be washed by these waters, and may God have mercy on your soul.”
Anne screamed and struggled as he forced her head down into the cold, dark river, but no matter how much she clawed at his arm he was as unrelenting as stone. Matthew felt that sense of satisfaction that came from sentencing the death of others, the only grim pleasure left to him in this life.
“Let her go, Matthew!” a voice commanded behind him.
The Witchfinder General froze at the sound of the voice he’d never expected to hear again.
“You,” he said, turning to face Margaret. He released Anne, his hatred now focussed on this woman who dared return from the past to interfere with the present. “Back to repay me for the scar I gave you all those years ago?”
“Foolish man. Who do you think cursed you?”
“You never had that kind of power,” he sneered. “And what of it, if you did? It has only served to drive me as I embraced my destiny to bring justice to all those harmed by witchcraft.”
“Yes, I see now the error of my ways, but I intend to correct my mistake this very night. I wanted you to suffer in your cursed life but not at the expense of the countless women who have died because of us. I see now I should have delivered you straight to Hell and the eternity of torment that awaits you there.”
He laughed. “You have grown delusional if you think you can kill me, woman. I am a servant of God now, and I will fear not witches or demons!”
“Believe what you will, but did you really think I would forget those three years of abuse, husband? Near enough a decade has passed; it is time we finished this.”
That cruel glint entered Matthew’s eye. “Then let us finish it, but first I will finish your sister witch.”
“You will not harm her!” Margaret cried, though she made no move to stop him. Matthew was so focussed on drowning his victim that he never noticed the demon appear behind him, still mounted. Suddenly his world went black.
“Don’t kill him,” Margaret commanded. “Bring him to the town square. I will be there shortly.”
The witch went to Anne, who was still rooted by fear, coughing and spluttering after Matthew’s attempts to drown her.
“Manningtree is not safe for you anymore sister,” Margaret said kindly, helping the other woman to stand. “You must leave this place. Seek out my coven in School Wood if you have need of shelter. They will take care of you.”
Anne thanked her and limped away. Margaret sent a Hellhound to see her safely to the others, before making her way back into the town where she knew the townsfolk would now be cowering.
***
Matthew awoke to find himself surrounded by the mob he had once commanded. It seemed now they were under her spell. Ignoring the throbbing in his head where the demon had knocked him out, he started to rise.
“Now they will see you for the cold hearted predator you truly are,” Margaret said quietly. She began to chant and Matthew was forced back down to all fours. He tried to fight it as he had so many times before, but as ever he was powerless to stop his curse taking hold, especially with the witch calling to it. When finally he was able to rise, the crowd gasped at his twisted, reptilian form. The lizard man hissed angrily, baring his fangs.
“He’s the one who’s been killing people!” one man shouted.
“Sorcerer!” another cried.
Anger overrode fear and the crowd surged forwards. In the chaos that ensued, Margaret took the opportunity to slip away from the mob, out into the night, leaving the Witchfinder General to suffer the same fate and humiliation he’d subjected so many innocent women to. The demon rode to meet her at the edge of the town, holding out his hand. She accepted it and let him pull her onto his Hellish mount. After all, such power as she’d learnt to wield came at a price, and it was time to settle her debt.
