The Witch Hunter Chronicles: Hunted
Chapter 20 - Learner’s Permit

“We need to rush the chopper,” Marc argued yet again. “We’ve got superior numbers and firepower.”

“I kind of like that plan,” Jordan agreed.

I knelt behind Jordan as the four of us huddled in the shadows of the roofing support of the exposed stairwell. He couldn’t see me roll my eyes.

There’s too much open space between us and the helicopter. The dude standing guard with the automatic rifle will have all the time he needs to sight us and gun us down one by one.

“Two semi-auto pistols and a freaking Derringer are in no way superior firepower against an M16 at fifty yards,” Lucía replied. “Plus, we may hit the gas tank or some other part of the helicopter that is necessary for flight.” She jabbed the air violently with those last words.

“Helicopters are pretty sturdy,” Marc said halfheartedly.

“You’re willing to bet our lives on that?” Lucía asked. Marc looked down at the ground. “That’s what I thought. We need to take the stairs down to the 1st floor and leave through the front entrance.”

“I think I like the Amazon’s plan better,” Jordan amended.

“I doubt we’ll make it down one flight before the terrorists or whatever are all over us,” Marc replied.

“He’s got a point there, too,” Jordan agreed.

The siblings both glared at Jordan. “What?” he asked defensively.

I’m going to have to do this myself.

I drew my dagger from the scabbard under my skirt and tossed it back and forth between my hands. It was about the size of a chef’s knife, but lighter, and apparently sharp enough to cut off a witch’s head.

This thing is perfectly balanced for throwing. Wait, how do I know that? Oh, who cares at this point. I’m pretty sure I can hit the gunman with this without damaging the chopper.

I’d thrown rocks before. And darts a few times. A football once or twice. Certainly not an oversized steak knife. This one needed to go the length of a basketball court. With perfect precision.

Great plan Kenz.

A smattering of gunshots from the stairwell stopped the sibling’s from continuing their circular argument. Either it meant Hugo was either under fire or already incapacitated. Regardless, we were out of time.

My friends looked up at me with confusion when I stood. I took a few deep breaths, and then before I could lose my nerve, I stepped around the corner of the enclosure and broke into a sprint in the direction of the gunman.

Don’t throw until I cover half the distance. Won’t even question how I know that. What’s that dude doing? He hasn’t even looked up.

The guard was in the same black outfit as the people that attacked us in the hallway, but his ski mask was pulled up like a beanie, and he had reflective shades covering his eyes. His rifle was resting on his shoulder with the barrel pointing behind him, and he was smoking a cigarette with his free hand.

I covered a quarter of the distance before he even noticed me, and then there was a moment’s hesitation before he responded. When his brain finally kicked into gear, the barrel of his weapon got caught in his wool cap.

He’ll want the barrel at center mass before he fires.

I covered another ten feet before the gun’s barrel cleared the cap and began its downward descent.

Now! Now! Now!

I let go of the blade and let my forward momentum carry me into a shoulder roll – just like I’d done a million times before in judo. I’d never done one at a full sprint after throwing a knife, so I was more than a little surprised that I was able to both nail the roll and come back up onto my feet in some semblance of a stumbling run.

How am I still alive?

The guard hadn’t fired a shot, and it took me a second to realize why. My knife had cleaved the man’s gun down the center of the barrel and had come to rest somewhere in the guts of the firing mechanism. He was still staring in disbelief at the ruined rifle in his hands when I crested the small set of stairs and dropped my shoulder into his chest – driving him backwards into the helicopter. The impact of his head on the metal siding of the helicopter made that hollow, clangy sound like banging two pots together. He collapsed to the ground so lifelessly that I thought he was dead. I checked the pulse in his neck and felt the steady thumping of a working heart under my fingers.

Why am I relieved that I didn’t kill a sociopath?

I stood panting with my hands on my knees as my friends arrived at full sprint. Marc was the only one smiling, and he looked away as soon as I noticed.

“Mackenzie Aibhilin Flynn,” Lucía yelled. “What the hell were you thinking?” Her eyes were wide, her arms flailing and there was a whole lot of color in her cheeks.

My full name means she’s mad. Why? It worked. And she looks on the verge of tears. Oh.

I resisted every sarcastic impulse and answered honestly. “I’m not sure I was,” I replied. “It was like I was told what to do by a memory. Or that I knew what I had to do. It’s hard to explain. I’m sorry I worried you,” I added, mostly in a mumble.

After a pause she sniffed and added, “I never taught you to throw a knife.”

“I think Sir Kay did,” I replied. “Whoever that was.”

“Arthur’s brother,” Lucía said quietly.

Judging by the look on Jordan’s face, his anger had already melted into relief. “Bro don’t do it,” I warned, but by the time the words were out of my mouth, I was already off my feet, wrapped in a bone-cracking bear hug.

“I just about had a heart attack when I saw you trying to start a knife fight with dude with a machine gun,” he said. “What kind of stupid plan is that?”

“He’s on the ground with a concussion and I don’t resemble Swiss cheese, so…” I croaked as my rib bones rubbed together.

“It was badass,” he added.

“Right?” I agreed.

“We don’t have time for this,” Marc said flatly. I tried to melt his perfect face with The Look but he was already climbing into the chopper. That said, he was totally right.

Jordan put me down and gave me a peck on the cheek.

“Big baby,” I said, but not unkindly. He smiled and shrugged. “Now make yourself useful, farm boy, and get my dagger free from the terrorist-dude’s gun.”

“As you wish,” Jordan answered appropriately.

Marc popped his head out of the cockpit and said, “Lucía, you said you could fly this thing, so I’m hoping your training was far more extensive than mine, because I’ve never done more than copilot, and I’ve certainly never learned how to take off or land.”

Lucía didn’t exactly answer. She gave a nod, but it wasn’t what you would call a confident nod – especially considering the sheepish look that accompanied it. Marc’s jaw dropped visibly. It would have been comical if we weren’t in an actual life-or-death situation.

After a few beats, Marc shook his head and said, “Unbelievable.” He was still shaking his head and mumbling to himself as he strapped into the copilot’s seat and began flipping switches.

“I’m the one that wanted to go down the stairs hermano,” Lucia retorted as she climbed in after him.

The argument continued as they pushed buttons and put on headsets.

Jordan handed me my knife and I slipped it back into its sheath. We climbed in back as the engine flipped on and the propeller began to turn.

I just survived a bunch of gun-toting hitmen and now I’m going to die in a helicopter crash on the way home. Worst day ever.

“Here goes nothing,” Lucía said as she pulled back on the stick.

It wasn’t the smoothest takeoff – I only had the one flight to compare it to, but the last pilot didn’t bounce the landing gear off the ground a number of times before finally lifting off – but we didn’t instantly fall off the side of the building either. Even grouchy-face Marc smiled as we cleared the lip of the building and continued to rise.

As we flew off, I turned in my seat and watched the roof for movement through the rear windows. After about half a minute, I saw a group of black-clad men reach the roof and stare up at us. I noticed one of the men was bigger than the others, and he had what appeared to be a sword in his right hand. My blade was back in my hand, though I didn’t remember drawing it.

“Kenz, what’s wrong,” Jordan asked. When I didn’t answer, he looked out the window and said, “Oh.”

As Galahad and his black-clad minions stared up at us, two black-haired women in flowing white robes came into view. One stood next to Galahad and rested a hand on his shoulder.

“I want to go back,” I said.

“We’re not going back, Kenz,” Jordan said softly.

“He deserves to die,” I answered.

“I know,” he replied, “but this isn’t the time.” He looked at my dagger and added, “Now put your knife away before you hurt yourself.”

“Fine,” I said. I re-sheathed the dagger after giving the whole lot of them the finger through my little window. I raised my voice and said, “Where we headed?”

“To get Mom,” Lucía answered matter-of-factly.

“We can’t go home, Lucy. It’s not safe,” Marc said, but now with the usual bluntness. “We need to go somewhere they won’t expect.”

“I just left Papá behind with a bunch of gun-toting psychos. I’m not letting them get Mamá too,” Lucía said. “We’ll pick her up and then go to one of the safe houses.”

Marc frowned but he didn’t argue. Instead, he pulled out his cell and powered it on.

I realize a mom and a cat aren’t on equal emotional footing, but I have exactly zero intention of leaving my precious orange furball behind.

I was in the process of formulating that statement into something that wouldn’t sound callous when Marc’s phone finished powering on and electronically blew up with a series of beeps and vibrations.

“Mom’s been calling,” he scrolled and added, “and texting.”

“What’d she say?” Lucía asked, craning to see his screen.

I’d tell her to keep her eyes on the road, except there literally was no road. Keep your eyes on the sky? That sounds stupid.

“Mom got word from Auntie Maria that the family was under attack,” Marc said. “She left with Mackenzie’s cat, the backup drives and all the guns she could fit in the backseat of the Audi.”

I breathed a sigh of relief and swallowed the lump that had slowly been forming in my throat.

I think the adrenaline’s starting to wear off, because I feel like I need a good cry and a nap.

“Where’s she going?” Lucía asked.

“The town of Almada, just outside, Lisbon,” Marc answered. “She’s meeting up with Maria’s side of the family.

“Then that’s where we’re going,” Lucía said resolutely.

Marc looked at the dials and snorted. “We won’t make it, Lucy. Even with a full tank of gas – which we don’t have by the way – Lisbon is hundreds of miles outside of the chopper’s range. We need to replace something closer.” He was quiet for a moment, and Lucía didn’t bother using the opportunity to argue. Once she looked at the gas dial, she must have known her brother was right. Finally, Marc said, “I seem to remember a safe house near the Sierra Moreno Mountains.”

Lucía’s face furrowed in concentration. “Was that where we panned for gold as kids?” Marc nodded and Lucía sighed. “Fine, pull it up on GPS,” she replied. She began to bank the helicopter, and the S on the dashboard’s compass spun to the top.

Marc grumbled at his sister’s command but did as he was told. Seconds later, he cursed loudly. “We’re going to be cutting it close,” Marc said. “Wasn’t the range on this thing seven hundred kilometers?”

“Six hundred I think.” That led to more cussing from Marc. I had to admit, the boy knew the finer points of English swear words. Lucía just shook her head. “One problem at a time, hermano. Call Mom so we can let her know we’re alive.”

Marc dialed and put the phone on the chopper’s Bluetooth speaker. Fran picked up on the first ring. “Are you safe? Is everyone ok? Who’s with you?” Her voice was panicked and breathless.

“I’m in the chopper with Marc, Kenzie and Jordan,” Lucía said. “We’re ok.”

“Oh, thank the Lord in Heaven,” Fran said. “Wait, where’s your father?”

Lucía opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Marc waited a beat before answering for her. “He stayed behind to buy us time to escape. I tried to get him to come with us, but you know how Papá is when he’s made up his mind about something.”

For a moment there was nothing on the other end of the line but silence, but before it stretched too far into the uncomfortable range, Fran said in a measured tone, “If you kids are safe, then he did his duty as the head of this family. In the end, there is nothing greater that can be said about a man.” Tears began to trickle down Lucía’s cheeks, and she wiped at them with the back of her sleeve. I leaned forward in my chair and put a hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

Marc quickly filled Fran in on the events of the morning, finishing up with an absolutely glowing description of my dagger throw. As he went into ridiculous detail about my body mechanics, Lucía looked at him funny, then looked back at me. I shrugged. When he began to tell Fran about our planned destination, she cut her son off.

“Quiet hijo. It’s probably better if I don’t know where you’re going at this point,” Fran said. “If I’m captured…” She let the thought hang in the air.

“All the more reason to meet up with us,” Lucía said.

“She’s probably safer far away from me,” I said quietly. Only Jordan heard me.

“I would love nothing more, dear, but I’m being tailed at the moment,” she said, conversationally – like it was a regular, everyday occurrence. “There’s been a black sedan following me the last four miles. Before that, it was a blue coupe and a motorcycle. They reek of amateurism, if you ask me. They’re about as subtle as a hammer.”

They probably thought they were tailing some clueless housewife. I almost felt sorry for them.

“Where are you?” Lucía exclaimed. “We’ll come to you.”

“We’re too far away, Lucy,” Marc reminded her in a soft tone. “Mom, call Auntie Maria and meet her in a crowded area.” His face brightened as he thought of something. “Oh, while you’re at it, tell her to get the cousins and set up a sting.”

“You think I need you to tell me that, chico?” Fran replied. “I’m the one that taught you about counter-surveillance. I could probably lose these fools in a school bus, but I’d rather wrap one up and bleed them for information. All I have to do is lead them in. Maria’s boys will bag-and-tag them.”

Marc approved, judging by the smirk on his face.

“Does she remind you of Batman?” Jordan whispered.

“Yeah, and the housewife facade is just her cover,” I said. Jordan nodded agreement.

“Just be careful Mamácita,” Lucía said.

“I will honey,” Fran said in a motherly voice. “And you keep Kenzie and Jordan safe. They’re your primary concern now.”

Lucía nodded and said, “I understand, Mamá. I love you.”

A lump formed in my throat again, and I tucked my legs up under me and hugged my knees.

None of this would have happened if it weren’t for me. I mean, I get it’s not my fault that some crazy witch cult wants me dead, but it doesn’t change the facts that people keep getting hurt trying to protect me.

We flew for ten minutes or so before Jordan finally broke the silence.

“Is our plan really to just hide from witches in some cabin in the woods?” Jordan asked. “That sounds like the start of a bad horror movie.”

“I don’t want to hide,” I replied. “I want to bring the fight to them.”

“We don’t know where they are,” Marc said. “And even if we did, it would be suicide to attack their headquarters. Besides, we need food, money, weapons, clothes… The safe house is really our only choice. We need to lay low for a while and wait for the family to reorganize. We can reach out when we know it’s safe.”

“He’s right,” Lucía said. “We need supplies. But we could always lay low in France. Like, say, near a certain citadel that might contain a priceless relic.”

Marc turned his head and stared. “You want to go searching for a magic sword while we’re on the run?”

“Wait, there’s a quest for a magic sword?” Jordan asked.

“Yeah bro,” I replied. “I guess forgot to tell you.”

“That doesn’t seem like something you should forget to mention,” he added.

“It’s been a weird couple of weeks,” I replied.

“Is it Excalibur?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Maybe?”

Most likely it’s just going to be a waste of time,” Marc stated. “But I suggest we table this discussion until we are safely out of the helicopter that’s rapidly running out of gas.”

“Speaking of,” Lucia said, “remind me again what the range is on this helicopter.”

Marc looked at the gas gauge, then tapped it with his finger. Then he sighed. “About thirty kilometers less than we need it to be.”