Zoe's only wish is to be able to run barefoot through grass, but she knows it'll never happen. Ever since she was born, she's been unable to touch anything living without it instantly dying. It's a curse she would do anything to get rid of, but that...
I stopped and knocked on the door leading into Dad's office. It was utterly ridiculous really. It was Dad that had wanted me to come, but I knew better than to just walk in, even if I was expected, and I had no interest in being yelled at.
It took a full minute before Dad's voice told me to enter. Sometimes I wondered if he did that just to show off the power he had over me.
Most of the rooms in the house hid Dad's true profession pretty well, apart from the library. But not his office. The paintings on the walls were all of witches being killed in gruesome ways. The least horrible ones were hanging and burning, and to the more extreme ones there were of execution wheels and racks. I had learnt at a young age to not look at the paintings, as they always made me want to throw up.
There were also different old torturing instruments behind a glass. Several old amulets. And, of course, the picture frame with a lock of hair and date for all the witches Dad had killed. I avoided looking at that one as well at all times.
I knew that what my dad did was a good thing. Before I had even started going to school, both Dad and my grandparents had started to teach me about witches. They were evil, power-hungry, dangerous. They would kill and destroy without hesitation just to achieve their goals. So hunting them down and killing them was the right thing to do. The world would be a better place without them.
But seeing the proof of how many lives my dad had taken always made me uncomfortable. It had been lives, after all. Living, breathing people that no longer existed because of my dad. I often had to remind myself over and over that they had been evil as to not have the dark feeling in my stomach spread to my whole body.
"You called," I said and took the chair on the side facing the door of the large wooden desk. Dad sat at the opposite side.
"How's it going with finding information about the Forest Path witches?" Dad asked in a monotone tone but piercing eyes.
My stomach turned to knots. I hadn't fulfilled any of my responsibilities during the past week, not since I had met Zoe. "I... I've not been as effective as I'd hoped during the past week."
Dad sighed. "That's not good. You know I wouldn't ask you to look into them if it wasn't important."
"I know." I stared at my knees.
"Witches are evil incarnate. You know that. And as people that know about them and the horrible things they do, it's our duty to rid the world of them."
"I'll work harder on it," I said and prayed he wouldn't go into a longer speech. I didn't want to listen to the gruesome specifics of some spell I had yet to hear about.
He sighed. "You do that, but first I want you to find out the location of one of the Forest Path witches. Irena Silver is her name."
"Of course," I mumbled. I knew I should leave. He had said what he wanted to say, given me the task he wanted done, but there was a question I wanted to ask, though I was unsure I wanted to know the answer. Dad seldomly went after one specific coven in the way he had been going after the Forest Path witches. So there had to be something about that particular coven that made him so hellbent on getting to them.
"Is there something else?" Dad asked, scrutinizing me.
"I was just wondering... Is there something special about the Forest Path witches?"
I didn't dare to look at Dad. I knew that asking questions that could seem like I was questioning his judgement usually was a bad idea and I was expecting to get told off, so Dad's reaction surprised me.
He took a deep breath. "I guess it might be good for you to know. It might help you to properly understand to what lengths witches will go to kill and gain power."
I looked up and saw how Dad's eyes had gone tired. He ran his hand through his greying hair before starting to explain.
"There is this one witch that me and other witch hunters have been trying to find for a while now. We're not sure for how long she's been around. The earliest evidence we have found of her is from seventy years ago. She's very powerful and highly dangerous. She has managed to perform some sort of spell on herself, which makes it so that she can kill with a single touch."
I felt my mouth go dry. I knew, from all of Dad's teaching, about the horror that witches were capable of. How they, without conscience, sacrificed children for spells, destroyed minds, and could keep people just healthy enough to stay alive to use their blood over and over. How they worked to gain control over the world without people's knowledge. How they were filled with hate for everything except themselves and power.
A part of me wanted to know what the witch would have done to perform such a powerful spell. Another part of me knew that the knowledge would probably make me puke.
"She's who you are really after," I stated in a weak voice.
"Yes. But she's slippery. No one knows what she looks like or her name or anything about her, really. I've tracked the killings I'm sure she's responsible for and those indicate that she is a member of the Forest Path coven."
"So you are killing witches from the coven to hopefully flush her out?"
"They will probably send her after me and then I can get my hands on her."
I nodded.
"Now you understand the importance of this, I hope. We need to catch her."
"Yes, Dad. I'll make sure to find out where you can find Irena Silver by tomorrow."
Dad nodded and gave me one of his rare, genuine smiles.
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