The drive was long and tedious. I kept my eyes on the road, Alfie read his book, Alex hummed to the radio and Florence stared out the window – each of us near-silent as the tyres rumbled on the tarmac. We reached London mid-afternoon and, after a short bathroom and coffee break, headed for the address given in the journal, as directed by Alex.

The house was located just south of London, further towards the countryside than the city. We had been stuck on a narrow road for quite some time, hidden between tall walls of heather and thorns, until we turned left into a set of open iron gates and along a gravel driveway passed a striped, mowed lawn.

Florence's jaw dropped and Alfie nearly lost his book beneath the car seat as the house came into view. It was not your typical English upper-class home, and had instead been built like a modern American manor, spanning three floors made of squared glass and painted white bricks. Although the sterile glass-cage aesthetic was not to my tastes, it was evident that this man had a hefty sum sitting in his bank, holding onto far more than even a Sentinel could make in a lifetime.

"This," gawked Florence, "is where the hunter lives?"
"Ex-hunter," Alex clarified. "Though, most choose retirement homes more humble than this."
I pointed at the building, catching the daylight as it bounced off the glass. "This, Alex, is the opposite of humble."

All four of us exited the car, eyes pinned on the entrance of the house. It resembled a temple at the front; white, glossed and decorated with rectangular marble columns that guarded the door. We passed the garden, Florence and I sneezing at the cut grass. Alex pressed the doorbell and I reached for the pocket my crossbow had been folded into. Dad's old friend or not, we didn't know Leopold Hopkins.

The door opened a fraction. An old man, short and round, answered with a frown. "I am sorry but Mr. Hopkins is not accepting visitors today."

He tried to shut the door but Alex wedged his foot in the gap. The old man's eyes widened more in challenge than fear. "We need to speak with him," he said. "It's urgent."
"No exceptions. Could you please move your foot, sir?"

Florence piped up. "We drove for two days to meet Mr. Hopkins. We are not leaving without speaking to him." I straightened up, putting in effort to hold back a beaming grin at her defiance. As long as she did not hold that attitude with me, she could keep it.
"I don't care how long it took you to get here. No exceptions."
"Not even for us?"

I pulled down my collar, showing him the mark of the hunter, recognisable to all who knew of us. Even if only a hunter for a few years, Leopold would know what it was. His aged features softened.
"Names?"
"Erika Lupine. This is Alex Arwood and Alfie and Florence Mullein."
He sighed in defeat. "Come in."

The entrance hall – yes, entrance hall– echoed with our footsteps as we filed in. I rotated as I walked, marvelling at the golden chandelier that draped down like willow branches above the matching broad staircase. Alex whistled.
"Damn."

Alfie cleaned his lenses as if making sure we were all seeing the same thing. "How does Mr. Hopkins have the money for a house like this?"
The old man blinked. "Leopold... has this ways." His moustache twitched. "I am Robert, by the way."
Florence smiled. "Nice to meet you, Robert."
Robert raised his brows. "Hm."

I almost laughed at his not-so-obvious lack of a 'likewise' or 'and you' but managed to bite it back. The man hated us already, it seemed, and did not like to be bothered, especially by a group he thought of as no more than children.

Robert gestured to the staircase. "If you would..."

Abstract art of bold colours decorated the upstairs walls as Robert led us to the back of the house, passed glass cabinets of books and ornaments, but no photographs. I peeled my eyes for any indication that Leopold was still hunting but found none. The books were mainly celebrity autobiographies, cookbooks and a single dictionary; the ornaments nothing but modern clocks and porcelain statues of flowers, birds and bats, none possessing any colour whatsoever.

At the edge of the house, Robert stopped us. With a small order to stay where we were, he went inside, closing the wooden double doors behind him. I didn't see anything through the small gap he pushed through.

"He can't be a hunter," Alex whispered. "He... he can't be!"
"An ex-hunter that's certainly doing well for himself." I checked the door for any sign someone was listening.

It was unheard of for hunters to be this rich, especially retired — Diana was an example of that — so his line of work had to have changed and prospered in recent years. Alex's father had even said in his journals that Leopold would not disclose the line of work he was pursuing. Hunting was not what one would call 'legit' work, but whatever granted him this sum of wealth in recent years must have stretched beyond it.

That, or he was incredibly lucky.

"There's doing well for yourself and then there's this. I don't like it." Alex glanced over his shoulder and flexed the arm his gauntlet was strapped to.
"So he has money." Florence shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with it. In fact, it's a bonus."
"Typical Florence," Alfie tutted. "If anyone sees her gold digging, stop her."

The door opened fully – Robert not in sight.

I shivered and led the others inside. Everything in the room was rock solid but ready to crack at the same time, all surfaces made of white marble like the exterior columns. Our boots groaned on the marble floor as we followed the trail of shadow to a long scarlet loveseat bathing in front of a wall of glass, burning in the sunlight. A silhouette glanced over his shoulder, wine glass dangling over the back of the chair, until he heard us approach. Drink splashing, he jumped to his feet and strutted towards us.

"You!" He pointed at me, the flared sleeve of his burgundy robe waving. "You are Chris's girl. And you." He turned to Alex. "You, sir, are Tommy's."
Alex and I exchanged a look. "We are," I said. "You knew our dads."
He was slim for a hunter. Not well built with experience like Alex, even though Alex had only been hunting for a handful of years. "You both look so much like them. What's your name, sir?"
Alex cleared his throat. "Alex."
"Alex." Leopold nodded as if approving the name. "You're a handsome one, aren't you? And look at them shoulders!" He whistled. "Tommy trained you well."
Alex shifted, clearly uncomfortable at being examined like a show-pony. "Thanks."
Leopold chuckled. "And look at you." He clasped my face in a way that made me reach for my crossbow. "Fawny hair, pretty face, blue eyes and – oh! That glare. That's it!" He threw his head back in laughter, swiftly letting me go. "Chris and Emily's daughter for sure! Erika, right?"

I nodded. The eyes were from mum; the glare from dad, evidently. The fact that he brought mum up at all was a shock to me. Not many people spoke of her. They didn't dare to.

I hated the social aspect of hunting. It was a rare but delicate business, and found that I already did it better than dad, though I still bore his mutual dislike for it. However, whether I liked it or not, it was needed if we were to get further in our investigation.

"We're sorry to visit you uninvited, Mr. Hopkins," I said.
He shook his head. "Please, call me Leopold. And don't apologise. Your dads were some of my closest friends."

He gestured to the leather loveseat and the four of us piled on, Alex and I centring the twins. Leopold pulled forward the stool from a ruby-red piano that shone in the sunlight. I could see Alex's fingers twitching atop his knees.

Leopold sat down and smiled. "What can I do for you?"
Alex nodded for me to speak. I drummed my fingers on my knees in thought. Any wrong wording could make Leopold expel us from his home, leaving us with nothing. We were his old friends' children -- he didn't know us personally.
"Chris and Tommy have both been taken. By witches. A cult led by a woman named Kate." Leopold had paled. He knew her. "The Cult of Chimera. We think you may have been involved in a ritual of some kind that they are interested in. You're our only lead."
The ex-hunter had slipped his hands into his dressing-gown pockets. "I see."
"We don't know anything about the ritual," Alex continued. "And we're desperate. Anything you can tell us about it would be a huge help."

Leopold was staring at the floor. Flashes crossed his dark brown eyes in a series of blinks that made him sweat more and more. He snapped from his daze. "Robert, would you get us some tea?"

Robert – who I had not noticed standing at the door – bowed his head and left for the kitchen, which I presumed was downstairs. I would have opposed the tea but we would not get anywhere without being polite. I begged Florence to keep her mouth shut with my stare alone. If anyone was to say anything wrong, it would have been her. She dipped her head — she understood.

"He'll just be a minute," said Leopold. "I'll have your tea soon."

Alex didn't even try to mask his frown. Leopold was avoiding the topic far too desperately; whether he did not wish to discuss the ritual again or he was covering for something. The twins had learned to keep quiet and Alex was taking too long in debating whether or not to question him further, so I spoke.

"Leopold, thank you, but we didn't come here for tea." Alex sent me a warning look. Be careful, he was telling me. We would get nowhere being rude. "We're on a countdown that's getting shorter by the minute and lives are at stake. The reason we're here is that we don't even know what we're up against. I mean, look at us. We just want to find our families."
He closed his eyes and exhaled. Then, shaking, he stood up. "I don't know anything about the ritual. I just did what Katia and Christopher told me to do."
A lie. "Katia?" I quizzed.
"She led the opposition against the Cult," Leopold replied, wringing his hands. "I was barely involved. I didn't know anything."
"Then why move away?" Alex challenged. "If you knew nothing about the ritual, why leave your friends behind – friends that you cared so much about?"
Leopold gestured to his surroundings; the loveseat, the private bar in the left corner, the overall estate. "I was better suited to business. Ask your parents, I was a god-awful hunter."

I wanted to ask how he started out. How, in twenty-seven years, had he gone from an aspiring hunter to a successful businessman? What was his game? However, I knew that was irrelevant to the task. Knowing his private affairs would not help dad or the other hunters in any way.

Leopold took a sip of his wine. "I left hunting behind long ago." It sounded more like an excuse than a statement. "Honestly, I never thought I'd hear from any of them again since you were born." He pointed to me with his glass.
"Dad told you when I was born?"
"The truth is, I was hoping to be godfather." He shrugged, scrunching up his nose. "Freddie Mullein had that job but he only got a couple years of doing that."

Florence's hands balled into fists atop her leg. She was staring directly into Leopold's eyes, waiting for another joke about her resting father. Hunting accidents were a common cause of death among our kind. We thrusted ourselves into danger every day, knowing every morning could be our last, yet Uncle Freddie's death hit the family while we were already weak, kicking us while down. Dad was transitioning from searching to grieving over mum, Ollie was young, the twins still just children and I had not begun training. Freddie's death did not just leave the twins without a father. It left us all without stability and made us vulnerable.

As Florence opened her mouth to retaliate, my eyes burning with silent orders, Robert returned. "Tea."

I should have thanked him for saving us from Florence's temper alone.

"Thank you, Robert. Put it on the table," Leopold said.

Robert did as he was told and set the silver tray on the glass coffee table before us with a clang. Out of courtesy rather than my own interest, I poured myself and the others a cup each. Alex filled his own with three spoons of sugar, the sight of it making my throat dry.
"Don't judge," he whispered.

Leopold ran a hand along his stubbled chin. Unlike dad's it was entirely dark without a single spec of grey or white. Despite being old friends, he was much younger than dad, and presumably Alex's father as well. The ritual may have been one of his first hunts and it put him off the job for life; he could have even been younger than the twins. If the ritual was what Alex and I predicted, I wouldn't have blamed him.

As if reading my mind, he said, "How many hunts have you been on, Erika?"
I counted. My first was a ghost, then another ghost – vampire, werewolf, demon, werewolf... "I've lost count," I admitted. He looked to Alex as if the twins were not there.
"And you?"
He shrugged. "Same answer."
"You're both so young." He put down the wine glass and took both of our free hands. "Please just drop this. Take these two," He nodded at the twins, "and get somewhere safe. Get as far away as you can."
He was acting so aloof earlier, now he grew fearful. He must have known we weren't leaving until we had answers and tried to scare us into leaving. I narrowed my eyes, heart beating against my chest. "From what? What are you afraid of?"
His eyes glazed over. "Her."
Alex's voice quietened almost to a whisper as breath hitched in my throat. We were right, after all. I almost felt proud of us for sussing out the ritual's function, but dreaded the answer all the same. "The Witch-Queen," he said.
Leopold jumped back away from us. "You know."
"It was a theory. You just proved us right." There was a faint hint of a smile on Alex's lips. We were massively screwed at the prospect of an immortal witch-queen being resurrected, but at least we were right. A bonus, I supposed.

Thoughts spun around in my head. I had seen witches before. Powerful ones. Those of high ranks rarely ever spoke to hunters unless there was a grave issue involving a member of their coven, but even your average witch was born into immense power. Imagining the strength a witch-queen – not a lord, not a lady, not a leader – a witch-queen could harness... it made me dizzy. If she was allowed to return to this world, she could kill us all with a single sigh.

"What do the witches plan to do?" asked Alex. "How does the ritual work? How do we stop it?"
"I..." Leopold's eyes jumped from Robert then back to Alex. "I don't know."
"You're lying." Alfie, who had stayed quiet and unmoving for the entire conversation, was now glaring directly into the eyes of the cowering ex-hunter. "You know what this ritual is. You just don't want to tell us."
"Now listen here, young man—"
"Don't call me 'young man' to undermine everything I say. You're hiding something."

Alfie may have been fearful of spirits and demons, but the experience of one was enough to disintegrate any anxiety around humans. Mortals were nothing in terms of power when compared to the supernatural.

I took a sip of my tea and a tingling sensation ran across my jaw, a feeling I would attribute to the first gulp of liquor before a night out. Leopold watched me do it and crossed one leg over the other.

He dismissed Alfie's criticism and cocked his head with interest directed towards me.
"Erika, how old is your brother now?" An odd question. I didn't imagine Leopold had any idea I had a brother but, then again, many hunters knew of what happened to my mother, and Ollie was a big part of that. Maybe ex-hunters got word of it too.
As though automatic, I answered, "Fifteen."
"Not old enough to stay on his own, I presume. Who is he staying with?"
"My aunt... Diana."

Florence cocked her head and mouthed why are you answering him? I couldn't reply. It was just the truth.

"Now, Erika. Dear, sweet, Erika." Bile rose in my throat at his description. "Where would Diana's address be?"

My head grew heavy. Without even thinking about it, with zero hesitation, I told him. The words fell from my lips like butter and I shocked myself as much as the others. Panic shot across Alfie's features and Florence's jaw dropped. Of all the information we were given, Diana's address was never to be revealed. It was a safe house for our family. A place to rest and replenish without a second thought to the dark world outside the front door.

And I had just given it up.

Leopold slouched back in his chair and grinned. "I now know where your brother is and how much effort it will take to collect him. Has he been trained yet?"
"No." Shut up!
Leopold nodded, laughing. "Good."

Robert shifted on his feet from the doorway, getting an almost nervous glance from Leopold.

"You best watch your words for the next few minutes, Miss Lupine. Because I've got you by the scruff of the neck. You never know what else you might give up."

His eyes gave it away. He looked into my teacup; a brief check to see if I had finished the drink. I had heard of truth serum's but never experienced or used one. At the realisation, I saw red. I flung the cup at the window; his head was too much of a risky target since he knew where Ollie was, but my anger had to go somewhere.
"Bastard!"
"That's not watching your words."
"You drugged me," I snapped.
"You would drug your friends' children?" Alex gawked at him, placing his full cup back on the tray far more delicately than I had. Florence and Alfie shared a nauseated look and did the same, their drinks untouched.
"I would drug strangers who have entered my home uninvited, yes."
"We've been honest with you!" Florence exclaimed. "What more can you want?"
Leopold swallowed. "You don't know what you're doing with this ritual. Go home."
"Not without our parents." An honest answer I would have given, even without the serum.
"Your parents are dead. There's no way you can stop it."
"Please. Just tell us what you know and we'll leave," Alex begged.
"Your own life is in danger too," Alfie warned. "We're trying to protect you as well as our families."
"I..." Leopold's countenance shifted and fear slipped through the cracks. I followed his eyes to Robert, who frowned at the ex-hunter's hesitation. They were both worried. "Get out of my house."
"Please—!"
"Get out of my house for your brother's sake," Leopold snarled, staring at me. "Remember: I now know where he lives."

We had no counter-argument to give. He tied our hands by using Ollie against us.

And now we had no leads.

"Alright." I sighed, holding up my hands. "We'll go."

I nodded for the others to follow my lead out the door, keeping an eye on Leopold for any sudden movements or change of heart.

"Essence of Candor only lasts fifteen minutes," Leopold called, lip quivering. "You should be able to lie your way out of anything you please after then."

Alex scowled at him before walking out the door while the twins kept their heads down.

"What a prick," said Alex as the door closed.
I glanced over my shoulder. Robert or Leopold were not following either of us down the stairs. "He's scared," I replied.
"Of the Witch-Queen?" Alfie followed me down, hand gripping the railing.
"No. Of--"

A camera in the entrance hall turned. Slowly, sure, but not subtle enough to do so undetected. I narrowed my eyes at the lens and ushered Alex, Alfie and Florence out the front door and down the steps towards the car where we would be safe.

Florence frowned. "Erika, who—?"

I pressed a finger to my lips. I would not answer her until we were safe, for prying eyes were watching – attentive ears readying to pick up the answer Leopold had told me without uttering a single word. And with the serum still in my system, I could not trust myself to keep my mouth shut after a simple question from Florence, fearful of revealing anything that could let our enemies know what I had figured out.

The witches had got to Leopold first.

I'm back! I apologise for the delay in this chapter as other works have had me occupied for the past couple of weeks. Are there any opinions of Leopold so far — will he help the hunters or cower to the witches?

As always, thank you for reading.

— Caitlin x