Page 27 of The Neighborhood Ghost

The word echoed through Hugo’s mind. He tried to think what would make him so special as to be pulled in here. He couldn’t answer. His arcane knowledge, while growing, wasn’t as extensive as Alice’s. Hugo’s thoughts turned to Alice.Maybe Alice was the key.

“What if she’s using me to get to my fiancée? She’s a witch. Maybe she’s trying to lure her here?”

“Your fiancée is a witch?” Thaddeus said with a giddy glee. “Small world. I was a witch hunter.”

Hugo’s heart sunk, or at least the sensation coursed through him. His voice grew deeper and quieter. “What do you meanwitch hunter?”

“It is sort of how I got here. I grew up in a magical family. My father was a wizard. My sisters were witches.”

“So, you were a wizard who hunted other magick users?” Hugo said, narrowing his eyes to focus only on Thaddeus.

“I was no wizard,” Thaddeus barked at Hugo, moving forward to tower over him.

Hugo didn’t flinch, hardly intimidated by Thaddeus’ larger size. Their eyes locked into a battle of who would blink first. Hugo clenched his fists, ready to strike should the two come to blows.

Thaddeus’ voice grew louder and sharper, placing an emphasis on the end of his sentences as he said, “I was not granted such gifts. No. Those gifts were bestowed on the unworthy. The unkind. Those who did not deserve it. I was good enough. I was deserving. I should have had powers, but no. I was denied it!”

He backed away from Hugo, storming off to the railing. He slammed his hands down and leaned forward. His shoulders and arms stretched out broad to prevent himself from tumbling over. Thaddeus’ voice softened. “I could not have arcane powers because while the father could pass it on to their daughters, onlymothers could pass it on to all children. My mother had no such power. My father fell in love with a non-magick user and sealed my fate.”

Hugo unclenched his fists and moved closer. He placed a hand on the grayish, wood railing and turned to view Thaddeus’ face. His eyes were nearly shut, lips pursed, and eyebrows scrunched forward. The visible, telltale signs of hurt, anger, and bitterness—all sensations Hugo had experienced and knew far too well. His knuckles grew whiter as Thaddeus gripped the railing tighter.

He carried on in a hushed tone, “My three sisters teased me. They tormented me. Told me I was lesser than them because they carried the gift and I did not. I was deserving as much as them, yet they rubbed it in my face. I ran away from home. I encountered a group of witch hunters. I joined them. Learned their ways. They taught me. They gave me purpose. As though I was deserving.”

Thaddeus let go of the railing and stood tall, shoulders pulled back and chest puffed out. A prideful, boisterous tone came to his voice as he said, “One by one, I hunted them down, starting with my sisters. I had an anti-magick wand. It zapped the powers from a witch and tormented them with pain in their final moments.”

The memory of Alice tied to a tree in Wildgrove Park flooded back to Hugo’s mind. The black twisting wand which drove her to the near brink of death. His breathing quickened, each breath shorter than the last.

“I used an amulet to burn them from the inside. I burned so many of them. I was good at it. I gave no mercy,” Thaddeus said as he held his hand aloft. He curled his fingers as if he were still holding it.

Hugo balled his hands into fists once again. His mind replayed the images of the jewel-encrusted amulet hanging fromAlice’s lifeless body. Striking at the center with the black anti-magick wand. A roiling rage rose within Hugo, matched by the roiling clouds above. A surge of adrenaline pulsated through his body, or at least the sensation of adrenaline. His fists shook. Anger and fear coursed through him as if he held Alice’s lifeless body, unsure of how to help her, once again.

Lightning crashed and thundered throughout the land. Three knocks rang out.

Thaddeus said, “I tracked one witch down to the new world. Sometimes, innocent people got caught up in my crusade, but it did not matter. Doing my job, getting the target, was all I cared about. Finding those unworthy of holding such power and eliminating them.”

“You’re mad,” Hugo interjected.

Thaddeus shot him a glance, while still holding out his hand. His eyebrows furled and pointed inward. A slight curl to the left side of his lip revealed his brown, stained teeth.

“No, I am not mad. I was exacting justice on an unjust world.” He dropped his hands. “I knew one such woman. She was innocent, but she helped me to find the real witch hiding in the woods. In my drive to destroy the witch, I became sloppy. It led to my death. I still remember it like it happened moments ago . . .”

Thaddeus kickedopen the door of the witch’s hut. Josiah Newes and the witch he sought stood over the body of Johanna Newes, the latest victim to the amulet of witch’s fire. He held out the twisting, black anti-magick wand. With a flick of his wrist, a black bolt shot out from the end and struck its query.

The witch twisted in agony, letting out a shriek. She fell to the ground, hunched over, and wallowed in pain. Her tangled, gray hair covered her face.

“Willow!” Josiah cried out. He bent down to tend to her wounds, but he found none.

Thaddeus flicked his wrist again, and another black bolt emerged from the tip of the wand. It struck Willow once again.

An ear-piercing shriek filled the tiny hut. “Why?” she asked.

“Willow Thornbrush, you are hereby guilty of practicing witchcraft and sentenced to death by order of his majesty King William the Third to be executed by a Knight of the Setting Sun,” Thaddeus shouted. The thick soles of his leather boots echoed off the hardwood floor as he approached her prone body. He walked with the grace and ease of a stalking predator, savoring every step and moment until the end.

“Get away from her,” Josiah yelled. He stood, struggling to pick his older body up off the floor. He armed himself with a handmade broom. He rushed Thaddeus, ready to strike at him, but Thaddeus was well prepared.

He caught the broom handle with his open hand and yanked Josiah toward him. He tossed aside the broom handle and, with one seamless motion, gripped and constricted the attacker’s throat. Josiah choked as Thaddeus tightened his grip.

“I gave you grace once to mourn the dead. I might not be so generous next time,” Thaddeus snarled. His fingers squeezed once more, nearly crushing his windpipe.

---