The Witch and The Hunters

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Page count: 6

Two days later....

"I got an owl today," she spoke as she and Dean settled down for the night, climbing into bed in their motel room in Durham, North Carolina, as they were going to start investigating the case of a possible ghost possession in the morning.

"When? I never saw an owl," Dean questioned, pulling her into him and feeling amused as she snuggled into him, seeking warmth like a kitten.

He supposed her behaviour made sense to him, after knowing why the feline traits appeared during sex, he had come to recognize that she was more feline in her mannerisms than he previously realised. She was fast. She was graceful. She was crafty. And she was affectionate, but when riled up she was fierce and she hissed and spit like an angry little kitten.

"When you went to get dinner," she shrugged. "It was from Kingsley."

"What'd it say, do you have a case?"

"No, it was to inform me that my presence is required back in England."

His hand paused in the movement of trailing his fingers over her back and under his shirt which she wore to bed. "Why?"

"I'm needed to testify against those that were captured during the battle, the MLE Department have finally finished processing those caught and they're now able to identify all those involved and trials are due to start. Whilst I'm back in England, I also need to call a quarterly meeting and participate in the training of some new possible recruits."

"When are you leaving and how long will you be gone?"

"He needs me back in England by the end of next week, and I should be gone no more than two weeks."

"Will you come back?" He questioned calmly, but Hermione could sense his true feelings. He was worried that she would leave him. That she might realise how much she missed her family and decide to stay.

"As soon as I can, I'll come back to you," she promised, placing a kiss to the underside of his jaw and settling back down against him.

~000~000~000~

Two days later....

"What the hell is a grindylow?" Dean frowned, sitting at the bench in the middle of the park in Huntington, West Virginia, surrounded by screaming and laughing children and their parents.

"A grindylow, they're better known as horned water demons."

"Well that's comforting," he said sarcastically and she rolled her eyes at him. Sam chuckled at them both.

"So, what's their deal?" Sam asked.

"They vary in size and they can grow up to five feet when they reach adulthood, their skin is a sickly green colour and their eyes are either white or yellow. They have horns on their head and octopus like tentacles, as well as long nails on their hands. I'm pretty sure it's what we're dealing with, although they aren't really seen in this part of the world, they're native to Britain and Ireland, so it's a mystery as to how they ended up here." She said thoughtfully. "And there isn't just one of them; they breed uncontrollably so there's likely to be thousands of them."

"Great," Dean sighed.

"In folk lore grindylows are said to have snatched children and dragged them down to the bottom of the lake or pond bed if they got to close to the water, drowning them and later eating their carcasses."

"Lovely," he commented and she slapped him on the arm.

"Don't be complaining, grindylows are only a level two."