Hunter and Prey Ⅱ

Suddenly, just as the masked wizard managed to destroy the last of the dolls, a deathly like silence falls upon the chamber. A cold breeze sweeps through the shop blowing out all of the candles except for one. There in the darkness of the room stood a door that had not been before.

Neither men move until the door swings open and a dark shadowy figure appears in the doorway. The speaker in a strangely African accented voice roared, "Abomination!"

The masked wizard chuckled as if honored by the statement. Slowly lowering his wand for the moment, he says, "Gatekeeper, you honor me with such a statement."

"Foul beast," Papa Legba hissed. "Your time will come."

"Never," the masked wizard confidently promised. "This is not the first time I have been told such words nor it will it be the last, and yet here I still am."

Turning to eye, the wane looking sorcerer, the masked wizard said, "It would seem that your fallen priest is almost dead on his feet. Your time in the world of the living is nearly up, Gatekeeper."

"Yes, so it would seem," Papa Legba sighed. "Foolish child, you should have fled."

The Rain Man chocked and spat out a glob of blood. "I'd rather die serving the spirits of old than to serve such an abomination! I will not make the same mistake twice!"

The masked wizard guffawed at the sentimental statement. "Such flattering words, I am touched by the emotional gesture."

"Enough abomination!" Papa Legba roared, before gently outstretching his hand. "Come child, it is time."

The Rain Man felt so very weak as he stumbled to the shadowy figure. Everything slowly dimmed until he fell forward and knew nothing more.

Papa Legba gently caught the priest which had served them so very long. Glancing up at the abomination, Papa Legba's lips twitch into a sneer. "We will see each other again, Abomination."

"I think not, Gatekeeper," the masked wizard sneered and purposefully turned his back on the spirit. The dead could not harm the living even with the exception to the rule, Samhain."

An angry cry could be heard from behind him as the masked wizard felt a cold blast of anger. Emerging from the shop, he did not look behind to know that the shop had vanished. It would simply cease to exist until another took the fallen priest's place.

"Don't move," a deadly voice threatened from behind him.

The orange stone masked wizard froze before slowly turning around ignoring the demand of the assailant. "Sanderson, potentate of London," the masked wizard said with pleasure. "It would appear you are late again. The sorcerer is no more."

Sanderson's wolfish eyes gleam with a hidden bloodthirst. "You, who are you?" Sanderson growled keeping his wand pointed at the masked figure before him.

"I am many," the masked wizard replied, "And we are one."

The old, weathered wizard slowly flashes an icy smile. "So be it," Sanderson said, and without any hesitation cried out, "Avada Kedavra!" A flash of green is seen as the stone masked wizard fell to the ground dead.

Sanderson fearlessly approaches the corpse to freeze at seeing a shadowy like mark emerge from the body and vanish into the night mist. Slowly kneeling down on the street, Sanderson removed the orange stone mask. There is a surprised expression on the deceased. The corpse is that of a hard-faced wizard with a protruding nose, Harold Minchum.

"Minchum?" Sanderson whispered in disbelief. "What is a ministry member doing here in the first place?"

With his mind whirling about, Sanderson recalls that strange like dark symbol in the air. Whatever Minchum was here for it was certainly not on behalf of the Ministry of Magic. Quickly pulling the left sleeve of the corpse, he finds the left arm bare of a skull with an intertwining serpent.

"Not one of that snake's either," Sanderson mutttered rather puzzled. "Then who's?"

The furrows in Sanderson's brows deepen. Minchum had recognized him, but that should be impossible, they moved in two vastly different circles. However, recalling Minchum's words, "I am many, and we are one," brought a chill down his spine. There was someone else hunting in his territory. Perhaps, it was time to make an example again reminding intruders of their place. He had been rather lenient as of late, he would best remind why he was the potentate of London.

With a grunt, Sanderson climbed to his feet and heard his knees pop. He warily shook his head and muttered to himself, "I must be getting old."

Always one to tidy up after himself, Sanderson points his wand at the corpse, "Evanesco," and vanished the corpse out of existence. Satisfied, he apparated away with a silent pop home.

He would have Hyde and Floyd begin their rounds again, but first he was going to have a hot bath. He had been bloody well running around the damn country for these last few months in search of the damn sorcerer. Of course, once he found the sorcerer, he was dead! But at least the wife would finally get off his back.

*

Elsewhere in a hurry shadows gathered. The hooded figures removed their cowls to reveal orange stone masks except for one with the pale stone mask of Zeus. The stone masked man in the middle of the circle says, "One of us is gone."

"Minchum," whispered a cool male voice. "Sanderson killed him without any hesitation."

"Then he knows nothing," concluded, the witch with a soothing voice.

"However, he did not see the mark," hummed a wizard with a dreamy voice as if drowsy.

"Be at ease" said the witch with a low voice. "We merely must plant evidence and information to convince Sanderson that is the work of the puppet."

"Yes, Sanderson hates the puppet," chuckled the cool male voice. "He dislikes any who enter his territory especially the busy little Death Eaters of the puppet."

"The sorcerer is dead, what now?" Barked, a witch with shrill voice that was normally weeping. "We cannot find another that matches the fallen priest's power."

"There is one other way," interjected, the voice of a youthful voice of a young female witch. She was the youngest of them, their newest appendage.

"What?" They said in unison.

"Anthropomancy," said the young witch. "If we can find a suitable sacrifice, we shall be able to find a clue to that which we seek."

"Yes, that will do so very nicely," breathlessly said the dreamy wizard. "There will be more potency during Samhain. However, what shall the sacrifice be? The wizards and witches of now are so careful with their children. It shall not be easy to steal a child."

"And what of a youth?" The witch with a soothing voice eagerly suggested. "Youths are so very easy to disappear."

"Not a student," the dreamy wizard instantly argued. "A recent graduate or one who was not permitted to attend Hogwarts. There are several families that still train their young at home."

"We know of one," said the witch with a low voice. "It shall be no trouble at all."

"Good," they chorused.

"The Dark Lord will return in two moons," said, the stone Zeus masked leader. "We will be able to move much more freely at that time."

"The Prince's?" They asked in unison.

"He will do his part," the masked leader answered. "However, we must wait before removing the rest."

"The Prince's will fall," declared the dreamy wizard.

"Yes," they unanimously declared.

"And what of the Hall of Prophecy?" Snapped, the witch with a shrill voice.

"I am working on that," interrupted a pleasant male voice. "My friend, Bertie Higgins oversees the personnel records, and has just hired a new employee. It shan't be hard to distract the new fellow and peek at the identity of an unspeakable and have one of them become part of us."

"Good, we are down one ministry member," growled the witch with a shrill voice.

"And what of Lestrange?" Asked, the cool male voice.

"He is quiet," hissed the shrill voiced witch. "But he and Dolohov have fought and at present are at odds with each other. It would be best if they tear each other's throats out."

"Yes," they all breathed out.

"We are in agreement," they all said. "Return."

Like trained marching soldiers, the orange masked figures walk into the mist and vanish in every direction including the white stone masked lead in the center. They all had jobs to do. And the sooner, the knots in their tapestry were removed, the sooner they could return to their glorious plans.