“The ones who cast spells.”
He winced at that. “All of the groups cast spells and even make potions. Witchbreeds have psychic abilities to boost whatever it is they do.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Big oh.”
“What about Warlocks?” she asked.
“Mundane term for practitioners. Wizard, warlock, sorcerer, etcetera. They all fall under the five categories… Witchbreed, Witch, Cunning, Sim and Malum.”
That was good to know, but it left her wondering something. “So, who created this list?”
“A descendent of Margaret Aitken.” He said that so matter-of-factly that she felt like an idiot she had no clue who that was.
“And Margaret Aitken is who?”
“One of the Witchfinder General’s flunkeys back in the Seventeenth Century. A vindictive bitch who saved her own ass by accusing innocent people of being witches and watching them literally burn.”
“That’s awful.”
“Yeah, but in the end, she burned, too. Sadly, not before she killed a lot of innocents.”
“And so this Margaret came up with the first list?—”
“No,” he said, cutting her off. “Even though the Witchfinder General and his group were discredited and disbanded in the seventeenth century, some of them continued on with his mission to rid the earth of witches. That group is still around today, causing problems and looking for those they deem witches to punish and expose. About five percent of IA cases every year deal with their current pain-in-the-ass membership preying on someone. Either an innocent or an actual witch.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Their current members assume the names of the original cast of clowns. Matthew Hopkins, Christian Caldwell, Margaret Aitken, John Godbold, John Cotta, John Stearne, Roger Nowell and Henry Chauncy. So we have no way of knowing how many of them there actually are. What their real names are or were, etcetera. All we know is that someone claiming to be Aitken’s descendent wrote their training manual called The Hexenhammer.”
“You mean the Malleus Maleficarum?” The Hammer of the Witches. “I thought Heinrich Kramer wrote that.”
“The original one, yes. Kramer was a nut job who was disavowed by the Catholic church and most anyone with a brain. But two hundred years later, the next group of idiots came along and decided to expound on his work. So, they wrote their own operating manual, Hexenhammer, or what should have been rightly termed Hexenhammer II, The Age of Anti-Enlightenment.” He glanced at her as he stopped at a light. “I can send you the PDF, if you want.”
“Sure. Sounds like a good, fluffy bedtime story.”
“Just make sure you have your Chucky doll nearby for cuddling when you get scared.”
She laughed. “Where are we going?”
“Washington Av.”
Since she wasn’t that familiar with Savannah yet, she had no idea what kind of neighborhood they’d see.
But given the fact that the man’s name was Senechal Villan, she was expecting something less than stately. Something definitely spooky.
She couldn’t have been more wrong as they pulled into a ritzy neighborhood and stopped in front of an impressive mansion. One that was reminiscent of an old German or Tudor-style home. Mostly brown brick, it had gingerbread trim and a very Alpine feel. Nothing spooky about it.
Other than the possible price tag.
“Nice house.”
Luke didn’t comment as he turned the car off. “Were you expecting a trailer?”
“Not sure. Trish lives in an adorable 1920s bungalow. I guess I assumed he’d be in something similar. Definitely wasn’t expecting a multimillion-dollar mansion…with brass bird feeders.” Which was an elegant touch on a well-manicured lawn. The upkeep on the lawn alone was probably more money than her rent. “What were you expecting?”
He shrugged. “Wasn’t expecting anything. I keep an open mind. One thing my past has taught me…never judge. The man who looks fine and upstanding is probably a wife-beating pedophile who cheats the IRS or worse, and the biker who makes people tremble at his approach is just as likely to be the one who donates his spare time to homeless shelters or other humanitarian causes. The Malum come in all shapes and sizes.”
