The Witch and the Tower

The pitter patter of the cold cascading rain clashed with the dark prayers of twelve severed heads showcased on a worn, grey bookshelf. A purple energy lit the apartment living room from twenty-four empty eye sockets. Five purifiers, garbed in their plain, black and dull blue uniforms scurried about the cramped domicile in search of clues under the watchful gaze of their captain. John Pastor, the newest member of the squad watched the severed heads, animated by darkcraft, continue their prayer. There were pictures of the family left in a neat collection clean of gore next to the macabre show.

Studying the pictures, John found that many of children did not resemble the parents. A grim realization came to John as he counted the members of the family. Twelve heads on display, but there’s thirteen people and a dog in these pictures. A chill settled in his veins as he wondered what could have happened to the thirteenth member of the family - a girl of eight years by the look of her. John felt the predatory gaze of his superior fall on him.

“Have you find anything?”

John turned in a stiff motion to address his commanding officer, “It would appear that whilst most of the family has been killed, a child and a dog are missing.”

The captain grew silent as he weighed John’s words.

“Captain, if the witch has taken the child…”

“I know. We can’t let it feed, the full moon rises later tonight.”

Narrowing his eyes, John pondered how they could find their quarry. The murders occurred early this morning, if they tried to flee on broomstick then they would have been spotted. The only other way out would be one of the exits on the ground floor which have sanctified cameras and wards, Using their darkcraft would set every security system off. John’s eyes widened. “Sir, the witch never left. It’s living in the building, hiding amongst the other tenants.”

The captains mouth pulled into a deep scowl, “Then we have our suspect hiding amongst thousands of people spread across more than a hundred floors and only thirty men to search them.”

John wished they could call in reinforcements but knew that the purifiers and enforcers were stretched thin as it was. It didn’t matter, they would just have to make due with what they had.

One of the other purifiers, a man by the name of Matthew Goodfellow, on the team entered the living room from the first of two bedrooms and saluted the captain.

“Anything to report?”

“There’s no sign of forced entry, sir. And no sign of unnatural entry anywhere in the apartment either. I’d wager that the witch knew these people and had their trust.”

“Sir,” John began, “if that’s true then that means this wasn’t a random attack, the victims were targeted.”

The captain’s hard, pale blue eyes fell on the pair. “Goodfellow, notify the building’s security, tell them to put the entire building on lock down and prepare everyone they have to serve as support teams.”

“Support teams?” John didn’t even hide the disbelief in his voice.

“They’ll need to make up for what we lack in manpower.”

“They’re going to get killed!”

Matthew Goodfellow scoffed, “it’s the risk they took when they accepted the position.”

Shooting a sharp gaze towards Matthew, John said, “these men deal with criminals, they weren’t trained to handle a witch hunt.”

“It is in times of great crisis and challenge that mankind has proved themselves of our Lord’s love. Have faith in our brothers in arms.”

John bowed his head. “What would you ask of me, sir.”

“Call up the arsenal.”

Turning on his heels, John made for the living room window as Matthew stepped out of the apartment. He flipped the lock and slid the large glass panel to the right. Rain poured into the apartment and pelted John like icy stones. He pressed the screen of his watch with his thumb. The watch glowed green in response. Wind ripped into the apartment that stood seventy floors above the ground, threatening to knock John off his feet. John scanned the view for their vehicle. It was dark out, and the storm had only made the night darker. If it wasn’t for the lights from other buildings, he wouldn’t have seen them at all. Within twenty seconds the bright headlights of their carrier cut through the shadows and the engines drowned out the rain as it hovered up to the window.

John held his watch close to his mouth and yelled over the noise, “deploy arsenal!”

The side bay of the large, angular vehicle opened with a ramp extending through the open window into the living room. There was a large, black case waiting inside their carrier. John took hold of one of the case’s handles and gave a strong tug. The massive case pulled free and rolled into the apartment with ease. He followed the process with several smaller cases filled with ammunition.

Once again John yelled into his watch, “ground!”

The ramp retracted and the bay doors closed as the carrier returned to ground level. John was quick to shut and lock the window. Before he could move for the weapon case a piercing alarm sounded as thick, heavy, steel shutters worn down by decades of neglect slid over the outside of the window.

A prerecorded message delivered by a feminine voice muted the sirens, “All tower residents and personnel, this is not a drill. Please remain in your domiciles and comply with all security requests and orders for your continued safety. Again, this is not a drill. Please remain in your domiciles until otherwise noted and may the Lord bless you all.”

John took a deep breath and nodded to himself. The tower is cut off from the world until the witch has been found and executed.

The flick of the latches sounded as the captain opened the container. “Hurry up and grab your weapons. We can’t allow this creature to devour a child and grow stronger.”

John turned and join the squad around the case full of weapons and ammunition. Of the weapons being eyed by the rest of his team three were shotguns, two carbines, and a pair of large, silver plated revolvers. Everyone else snatched their weapons and began to dig through the other cases to load their weapons, belts, and magazines. John approached the revolvers and laid his hands on the two pistols to offer a silent prayer. When he finished he pulled the revolvers from the case and joined the rest of his team crouched around the cases of various rounds. He opened the break action of both pistols and loaded rounds into the five empty spaces in each cylinder.

“I still don’t see why you use those old pieces of junk,” Matthew said as he loaded shells into his shotgun.

Flipping the breaks shut, John smiled. “Blessed rounds annihilate anything polluted with darkcraft and a weapon that can deliver those rounds is all I need, anything more than that is just vanity.”

“You call it vanity, I call it pragmatism.” Staring at the new man on the team, Matthew cocked his head. “You’ve never killed a witch, have you?”

“We killed two witches before, you know that.”

“No that’s not what I mean. We’ve apprehended witches and burned them, but you’ve never had to put one down.”

A silence came over the group, though everyone kept themselves busy with their weapons, they were all listening.

Standing, John slide the two pistols into the empty holsters at his waist. “What are you getting at?”

“A holy man turned purifier. But we’re all holy men here, doing the Lord’s work. The difference is we’ve been doing this long before you turned away from preaching.”

“Goodfellow, Pastor, that’s enough.”

“The Lord provides us with what we need,” Matthew said, patting his shotgun. “Better to utilize his gifts than to spurn them, especially when it’s all of our lives on the line.”

“Goodfellow,” the captain shouted. “Take four enforcers and head to the top floor to begin your search.”

Matthew saluted, “yes, sir.”

John watched the others depart for their assigned floors. “What floors will we be taking, sir?”

“You’ll be taking the ten floors below ground level. I’m staying on this level.”

“I’m being sent to the basement?”

The captain nodded. “It’s unlikely you’ll bump into anything. In truth I’m not worried about the ground level or anything below it. It’s unlikely our prey lives too far from the victims.” The captain motioned to the door, “go on, get moving.”

John saluted and left the small apartment. Eight enforcers, clad in thick, black body armor and wearing visored helmets that hid their faces stood ready in the hallway of the massive apartment tower. The artificial lights were oppressive on John’s eyes, leaving a dull ache as his pupils adjusted to the pure white halls and flooring. He blinked then addressed the men, “four of you with me, the rest wait for the captain.”

Flanked by enforcers, John made for the elevator. The basement floors are the closest to the building’s security. They’re also smaller than the rest of the floors. The last level of the basement is maintenance and electrical so there’s only nine levels we have to worry about,

The group squeezed into the compact box that was the elevator and made the long descent to the ground. They would have to take the stairs from there to reach the basement where adulterers, addicts and many other dregs of society were housed. The dregs were not allowed to use the elevator and thus, there was no need for the elevator to go to the lower levels. Their comings and goings were also monitored, and the stairwell to the lower floors were locked behind a heavy, metal door. In truth it was more like a prison than an apartment complex. There was a soft ‘ding’ as the elevator came to the main floor. As the doors slid open, the makeshift squad exited and turned left towards the stairwell, their heavy, combat boots squeaking as they made contact with the black and white floor tiles.

As the five men approached the metal door, they were greeted by a member of the building’s security. He was a young, perhaps only fifteen, judging by the thin, patchy beard covering his pale, pimple ridden cheeks. “Are you the purifiers?”

“I am,” John said, “we’ll be investigating the lower levels.”

The boy nodded. “We already have a group of ten down there already. If you hurry, you’ll probably catch up with them.”

“I’m sure they’ll be grateful to see us.” John motioned to the door.

Nodding, the boy punched a code into the keypad on the wall next to him. There was a deep groan and and a whine as the door unlocked and swung open. A rush of musty, moist air rushed into the open. Through the doorway John could see large orange and brown marks on the walls from where paint had flaked away and had begun to rust. John stepped through and was followed by the four enforcers.

“I’ll be closing the door behind you,” the boy said.

John had already begun walking down to the lower levels, “That will be fine. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again once we’ve completed our sweep.”

The groups only way back to the surface was sealed and locked as they descended down the steps. Aside from the monotonous drone from the lights whose panels had yellowed from age and neglect there was only silence to accompany the men.

John had lost himself in thought as he wondered what the witch would look like. The two we had apprehended appeared to be normal women, but it was just a façade. Memories of the day he set aside the Lord’s book and took up the gun began to flood his mind. He had been giving a sermon when one of the creatures had entered the building, slaughtering men, women, and children at prayer. The hunched figure had hobbled in, hiding the rotted, boil covered face under a black hood. The witch had struck when one of John’s flock had offered a sympathetic hand. What will this one look like? Perhaps not as sinister as it hadn’t used darkcraft beyond making a mockery of it’s victims.

Before he could take another step, darkness ensnared the group. John’s right hand shot to the handle of gun. Freezing in place, he waited, not even drawing a breath. The enforcers flicked the switches to the lights on the sides of their rifles.

“Purifier,” an enforcer spoke, “what are your orders?”

“We’re to head for the maintenance level, we’ll intercept our prey there. The building should be switching to emergency power shortly.” John drew his pistol. Not that it will help much, we’ll be trapped here until the door above us is cut open. The elevator will be out of commission as well so the others won’t reach us for a long time.

The stairway began to glow with a dull, red light as emergency power returned some semblance of life to the tower. The thunder of gunfire and screams echoed below the five men.

Adrenaline surged, John felt his heart pound in his chest. “The security team!”

The group rushed down hundreds of stairs. There were more screams from the floors that they passed by. As the men ran by the last apartment floor, the door shot open. John and the enforcers turned and aimed their weapons at the opened entrance.

A young woman with shoulder length blond hair, clad in old, moth-eaten clothes stood in the doorway. Her hand covered her blood soaked shoulder. The veins in her body glowed purple under her pale skin. She looked to the group with tear stained eyes. “Help me. Everyone’s gone mad. My neighbors, they’re tearing each other apart! My father… He had been drinking water from the tap when his body began convulsing. When I came to help him, he bit me.” The girl fell to her knees and began to weep. With a sudden energy, her body began to convulse. She looked to John, “please, help me.”

“I’m sorry.” John aimed his weapon and pulled the trigger.

The girl’s body, saturated with darkcraft, began to turn to black ash. A cacophony of screams and guttural roars filled the air.

John turned to the enforcers, “take a defensive position. There’s only two ways to free these people from what’s affecting them, death or killing the witch.” The face of the creature who slaughtered his flock flashed in his mind. “I’m going to end this.”

Two of the enforcers trained their weapons down the hallway of the open door in front of them whilst the others aimed to the stairs above. John raced down to the final level the sound of gunfire filled the stairwell. He could hear brass hit the ground next to him.

They don’t have enough bullets to hold off everyone down here. I’d better hurry.

John slammed the door to the maintenance level open and rushed in. The hiss and grinding of ancient machines drowned out the battle on the stairs. John slowed his advance as he went deeper into the maze of machines, pipes, and rooms. The lighting was sparse in comparison to the stairs. Shadows took shape and danced into nothingness.

Stepping into a room on his right, John stood before the water tank for the building. Illuminated by the red light, John could see a canine figure floating in the water. That explains the water and those afflicted with darkcraft. Half the building might be affected by now. The sooner I find the witch the better.

John backed out of the room and continued towards the main generators. Turning left, he found himself in a hallway filled with dead maintenance workers. Blood stained the walls and ceiling. John swallowed, and moved through the mess. He came to the generator room door. Heart pounding, he extended his hand towards the handle and froze when his fingers met the cold metal. John took a deep breath then entered the room. What remained of one of the security teams was strewn across the floor of the room. John’s eyes darted from once side to the other. The only other living soul in the room was a little girl who looked no older than eight or nine. Her back was to John as she was crouched over one of the bodies.

The girl peeked over her shoulder, “Who- who are you?”

John continued his frantic search of the room as he took slow steps towards the child. He noticed an open vent towards the back of the room. John cleared his throat, “My name is John, I’m a purifier.”

“What’s a purifier?”

“We get rid of monsters, like the one that did this.”

John was only a few steps away from the girl when she said, “but, I did this.”

Silence filled the room. John’s blood turned to ice in his veins. The girl turned to face him. Her eyes were inky, black pits under her messy brunette bangs. The child had yellow razors for teeth and claws to match.

John couldn’t believe the sight before him. It makes sense, witches experienced childhood just like people. But to see a child-witch, it shook John to his core.

The child eyed the gun in John’s hand then, letting out a piercing screech, leapt into the air.

Damn. John moved too late to fire his weapon. He dove to the blood soaked ground. He felt talons tear through his body armor, just missing the flesh of his back. He turned to aim again, the child was nowhere to be found. There was a shuffle above him. John looked up in time to see the witch dropping on him. John raised his weapon and fired. The child witch recoiled from the round. Fingers and nails fell to the floor next to John. The witch recoiled, nursing it’s ruined hand as it howled in pain.

John leapt to his feet. He watched in horror as the witch raised the bloody stump that remained of it’s hand and stabbed it into a nearby corpse. The witch retracted it’s wounded hand to reveal it’s missing fingers had been replaced with sinuous cords with claws at the ends of them.

She looked at John and screamed once again.

John muttered a small prayer and fired the remaining rounds into his target, turning the small child-witch into a pile of black ash. He holstered the weapon and took comfort, no matter how small it was, in the lives that he saved