Reign of Evil

“Right. We know what happened at Woking. In Penrith, an orphanage for displaced Nigerian children disappeared. It’s believed to be a highly localized F5 tornado which only damaged the orphanage, even though it was wedged into a tight little neighborhood.”

“What?” Ian shook his head. “An entire orphanage gone? Why aren’t we hearing about this?”

“It’ll be in tomorrow’s news. All of this has occurred only in the past seventy-two hours. There could be more, but these were the only things we were able to discover in the little time we had.”

“Continue,” Ian said.

“In Chipping Sodbury a local businessman and his associates were found ripped apart on the golf course. Owners of an Indian restaurant in Shapwick went missing. I’ve been there, by the way, and they have the best vindaloo. In Marlborough a local resident and his wife were found mauled on the bank of the Kennet River. In Penrith there were reports of a man being chased down the street by misshapen hounds, which the police are discrediting because they were called in at three AM by several drunken witnesses. In Notgrove the parish priest reported odd howls and the blowing of horns. There’s only three CCTV cameras in Notgrove, so there was no tracking. They all went fuzzy at the same time.”

Ian pointed to a spot southeast of London. “What about Bromley?”

“Saving the best for last. The body of MP Gordon Miller was found gored in a parking lot by a hotel. Looks like he’d spent the night with a local girl, then was killed when he went outside.”

“Are you telling me that we believe that the Wild Hunt killed a Member of Parliament?” Ian asked.

“I don’t think the Wild Hunt gives a shit about an MP,” Sassy Moore said. “They don’t even know what a parliament is.”

“How come we’re just hearing about this?” Trev asked.

“The Home Office has it under wraps until they can determine what caused the wounds.” Preeti frowned distastefully. “It was reported his insides were torn out.”

Ian nodded. “This might change everything. If we have a supernatural event or entity which threatens English sovereignty, then we need to be around to combat it.” He stood and grabbed the map. “I need to make a call. Wait here.”

After Ian rushed from the room, Sassy leaned back and crossed her arms. “You know what’s going on, don’t you?”

Everyone looked at her.

“The Wild Hunt is building itself. For some reason it’s not large enough.”

“Building itself? You mean like recruiting?” Walker asked.

She shook her head. “It’s long been held that the Wild Hunt only comes around when changes need to be made. It often comes back a mere shadow of itself, becoming stronger as the souls of its victims come to populate the Hunt. Some become hunters, others become stags, but most become hounds.”

“Wait.” Walker struggled to parse the information. “All of the victims?”

She nodded. “It was why we saw what we saw, the rush and rumble of a beast hunting. It was the connection to your fiancée.”

The knot in his chest turned to iron. “They’re using her soul?”

Her expression remained grim. “And those of everyone else they kill.”

“Why do they need their hunt to be so large?” Trev asked.

“It depends on what their endgame is. We still don’t know their motive.”

“We might,” Preeti said, interrupting. “It’s not something you would notice, most likely, but it’s something I hit on right away.”

“We’re all ears, sweetie,” the witch said.

“The businessmen in Chipping Sodbury were Jordanian. The wife of the man in Marlborough was Chinese and he worked for a Chinese bank. The MP was an outspoken proponent of immigration rights. The orphanage that just vanished was Nigerian run and operated. The owners of the restaurant were Indian. I’m sure once we discover what happened in Penrith and Notgrove, we’ll also see a similar trend.”

“All immigrants,” Walker said.

“We’re all immigrants in England,” the witch said. “More aptly, the victims were not Anglo or Saxon.”

“Or if they were,” Trev added, “they were in support of non-Anglo-Saxon activities.”

“What are we concluding?” Walker asked. “That the Wild Hunt is a supernatural white supremacist welcoming committee?”

The witch grinned. “You Americans have a way with words, but it’s as apt a description as I’ve heard.”

But Walker still didn’t get it. “Why would the Wild Hunt care? Do they even know who Indians or Jordanians are?”

“Don’t you get it? They’re a tool. Someone is using them,” Preeti said.

“The Red Grove,” Trev said.

“And until we can find one of them and ask, we’re going to be guessing at the endgame,” the witch said.

Ian entered the room. “We have a stay of execution.” He wore a satisfied smile. “I spoke with Lord Robinson—Deputy Minister of the UK Border Agency—and explained the situation.” Ian glanced at Walker. “I hope your team is going to be able to help, because the only way he’d accept my proposal was if I included them. Without them, we’re only two operators and not enough to make a real difference.”