Free The Avenger 29 - The Nightwitch Devil by Kenneth Robeson Page B

“like this has ever happened in Nightwitch.”
    “Not in this century,” said Benson. An hour earlier, they had presented Storm with the thugs, identified themselves to him and, over his startled protests, left. Now, satisfied that the kick to Smitty’s head had done no lasting damage, they had returned.
    They had told Storm some, but not all, of what they had learned thus far. “Witches,” he said, sucking on the stem of his unlit pipe. “Them four rowdies you brought in for me to lock up, they sure aren’t witches and warlocks.”
    “They’ve simply been working for the cult.”
    “Witches,” repeated Storm. “Well, I have heard a few rumors ’bout something like that. In a town like this, though, you’re always hearing rumors.”
    “These were based on fact.”
    “I’ve got to do something, then,” said Chief Storm. “Some old-time practices and beliefs I could let be, but not witchcraft.”
    “I think,” said the Avenger, “the cult will cease to be, very shortly.”
    “You got more information about this than you’re giving out.”
    “Perhaps.”
    Storm said, “I checked up on you, Benson, I made a few phone calls.”
    “And what did you learn?”
    “That I might as well go along with you, play this thing your way,” said Storm.
    “By tomorrow,” said Benson, “I may have more to tell you.”
    Nodding, the chief said, “By tomorrow we’re probably going to have some government agents hanging around town. You know about that?”
    “Yes.”
    “So this isn’t all magic spells and broomsticks.”
    “It sure as heck ain’t,” said Smitty.

    The darkness turned to light. Then everything was black night again, and thunder shook the trees.
    “Nothing to fear, princess,” Cole assured Nellie. “They’ve got a whole collection of lightning rods on yon rooftop.”
    “Lighting’s never scared me,” said the little blonde.
    The rain was falling hard once again, battering down through the branches that interlaced above their heads.
    Taking the girl’s arm, Cole guided her through the wooded area that bordered the old McRobb mansion.
    Another flash of lightning illuminated the house, which loomed a hundred yards away from them. The mansion was enormous, thick with towers and turrets and spires.
    “Sometimes,” said Nellie, “I get the distinct impression that Richard Henry Benson doesn’t believe in the equality of the sexes.”
    “I’m sure he knows you’re more than equal, pixie.”
    “This job tonight, for instance. Obviously it’s going to be nice and safe,” Nellie complained. “All the fun, that’s going to be at the witch convention.”
    Cole grinned. “Don’t be pessimistic, Little Nell. We may find untold adventure awaiting us here in this pile of architectural aberrations.”
    “Dubious,” said the girl.
    They reached the edge of the woods. A half-acre of tall grass and a great variety of weeds stood between them and the house.
    After staring at the place for a moment, Cole said, “No signs of movement, not even a ghostly light.”
    “Everybody’s at the meeting,” said Nellie.
    “Let’s, therefore, be bold and walk right in the front door.”
    Nellie tugged the hood of her black raincoat tighter around her head. “Race you,” she challenged.
    The two of them went dashing across the weedy field, pelted by the rain.
    The blonde bounded up the wooden front steps a good ten seconds ahead of Cole. “Listening to you panting,” she said.
    “Merely subterfuge, pixie,” Cole replied. “I allowed you to win, but I wanted you to think it was because I was a bit winded.”
    “Unlikely,” said the girl. With hands on hips she was studying the oaken front door. The brass knocker was in the shape of a lion’s head. The huge doorknob also had the likeness of a lion upon it. “Fond of lions, the McRobbs must have been.”
    Reaching around her, Cole turned the knob. It moved. A gentle shove caused the door to swing silently inward. “Disappointing, no Inner