The Caldwell Files

Witch Hunt - Chapter One

What the hell have I signed up for? I thought as I rode shotgun in probably the nicest car I had ever been in. Growing up in small-town mid-west, I was used to trucks or sedans, but this was a luxury car. Sleek and glossy black, the engine was quieter than I was used to, and it made me slightly uncomfortable not hearing the engine rev with the slightest press of the pedal. My arms were crossed firmly across my chest as I watched buildings pass.

Only minutes ago, we had landed in Chicago O'Hare in a private jet. Growing up, I had never been on a plane. I jumped on my first plane when I was eighteen, and that was a military cargo jet heading to an uncharted island in the pacific. I had no luggage aside from a toiletry bag and the clothes on my back. It was all I was allowed when I was headed to basic training. The private jet, owned by his organization, had a handful of armchairs bolted to the floor, a large screen mostly used for a briefing on their mission. But what confused him most was the stocked bar in the cabin, which his partner had made full use of on the way but never appeared to get drunk.

I looked over at the woman driving, who was supposed to be my mentor for the next year. She was older than me by several years, but you never would guess by looking at her. She was short, around five-foot, and slender, like she spent all her free time at the gym. Her seat was pushed up as far as it would go so, she could reach the pedals, but she was leaned back so she could barely see over the stirring wheel. Her blond hair was cut short, mostly for efficiency. She was dressed professionally, but a businesswoman who shopped only high-end. She always held her head high, and though he was much shorter than many other agents of her caliber, you could always feel her presence in the room.

She looked over at me and smiled. "Oh, would you lighten up, Caldwell? You look like you're about to give me a lecture."

I scoffed. "Maybe I am."

"This vehicle fits agency guidelines," She said, turning back to the road passing by at an alarming rate.

"Except for the price tag," I mumbled, turned back to the window.

Delilah laughed. "Listen, Rookie, I have been in this game for a while. I have standards."

"I noticed," I said uncomfortably. "Could you slow down a touch?"

Delilah looked at me with a mock confused look. "I'm going the speed limit."

There's no way. I craned my neck and looked at the speedometer on the dash. It read forty MPH. I looked out the window and watched as the buildings passed in a blur. Magic. I grumbled silently and focused my eyes on the dash. I had never been a fan of magic. Magic was unpredictable, dangerous. But it did have its uses on occasion, but in my limited experience, it can also be manipulated.

We sped through Chicago in the dead of night. The freshly fallen snow made the city look like a wonderland and seem quiet in the early hours. I admired the Christmas lights as we passed them for the brief moments that I could. I thought about home, the home he hadn't been to in three years since the beginning of his training. I made a mental note to do some Christmas shopping while away from the Island. I was sure I could find something for my sister and nephew in Chicago. The question became, would I have time after the mission was over?

We saw the flashing Red and Blue lights from a couple of miles away, and we closed the gap in a matter of seconds when we suddenly slowed down. I braced for the lurch that usually came with rapid deceleration, but it never came. I shot Delilah a look.

Delilah had her head turned toward the police boundary in front of what looked like a 5-star hotel. There were a few police squad cars sitting at the boundary. Two ambulances sat closer to the hotel, doors on the back wide open. One of them had a couple of uniformed officers standing nearby.