Page 44 of Witch

“Mother, father, you must stop this,” he pleaded.

“We cannot. We agreed to this,” said Michael. “I only wish I’d gotten you the help you needed when you were alive. Take your punishment like a man.”

There was no escaping his torture. No way for him to run or hide. These men would never allow it to happen. In order, from his first victim to his last, he was given the same brutal treatment that he’d delivered to each of the women. After each gruesome session of torture, his body was given the short gift of recovery, only to be tortured by the next spirit.

When they were done, he was carried to the boat, taken to the middle of the bayou, and thrown overboard, where the swamp claimed his body.

“You are free now,” said Matthew, looking at the ghostly images of the women. “Your families will know that they have peace.”

One by one, they disappeared in a haze of light and clouded mist, safe in knowing that they were given their redemption. When all that was left was the Robicheaux family, Irene turned to see that his parents were still seated.

“You can leave now, too,” she said quietly, taking the mother’s hand in comfort.

“How do we reconcile our own sin of not seeing this sooner?” asked Michael.

“You are parents, not mystics or magicians. You do your best, you pray that you get it right, and you let them take it from there. Good or bad, they have the freedom of choice for their decisions.”

“You seem to have done that well with all your fine children,” smirked Mrs. Hopkins.

“Well, I had a lot of help,” smiled Irene. When the image of the couple faded, Irene smiled at the men. “Y’all did good tonight. That wasn’t easy to watch, even knowing that he deserved every broken bone, every fiery brand, every painful episode.”

“Will those women truly have peace now, Pops?” asked Jean.

“They will, and so will all of you. Go home to your wives, to your families, and hold them tightly.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

There were no news reports about Marcus Hopkins. Nothing that told the world that a horrible evil had been removed from the planet. No one asked where he was. No one found his body. No one wanted the answers. They were happy in the knowledge that he had disappeared from New Orleans.

Each of his victims, the women who succumbed to his disturbed mind, was given a memorial in their hometowns and buried according to their personal beliefs.

The cellar of the mansion in New York was filled with cement, intended to block that memory and to never allow evil in or out of there again. The tours of the historic mansion would not wander there, nor would it tell the story of the deranged son of the Hopkins family.

They’d returned in time to see the children parading about in their Halloween costumes, each one cuter than the last. There was plenty of candy, games, cupcakes, and even bobbing for apples.

It was wholesome, pure, and filled with childlike wonder and play. The way it should be.

Within a week, the cases for the Gray Wolf team were completed, and the new Legacy team was ready to take over. When the briefing was done, they sat in the grove, drinking their coffee, watching as the younger men scrambled from one location to the next.

“I’m actually enjoying this view,” smiled Ghost.

“Same,” nodded Tailor. “I never thought I would, but this is fun watching them be overwhelmed for a while.”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” said Matthew. “There is a great deal to do.”

“Pops, what do you mean? We’re retired,” said Rafe.

“You are retired from employment. You are not retired from this earth. I have much that you need to help me with. The holidays are coming, and that doesn’t change just because I have moved on.”

“Well, we can help with the baskets and the toy delivery,” said Wilson.

“Come with me. All of you,” said Matthew.

He led them to one of the larger boats, all of the men boarding, and then another filled as well. When they were all moving slowly through the bayou, Miller frowned at his brothers.

“Pops, where is this taking us?” he asked.

“Our land. It’s all our land,” said Matthew.

They wove through the trees and the swamp, the bayou narrowing to a tiny inlet. At the apex of the land sat a massive warehouse. Matthew docked the boat and moved toward the doors, not saying anything. They all knew they needed to follow him.

Disappearing through the metal of the building, the doors suddenly opened, and Matthew smiled at them, opening his arms wide.

Like a huddled mass of bees, the men stood in the large doorway, staring at the scene. At first, they could say nothing. They took it all in, amazed at what they were seeing. Then, it was Trak that finally spoke, a very unlike Trak statement.

“Holy fuck.”