Charlie Sullivan and the Monster Hunters: The Varcolac's Diary

by D. C. McGannon

  Then he took a breath to calm himself‌—‌which only stirred up the dust in his lungs‌—‌and began to speak the words that would protect him from being spied upon by the boy’s developing gift of Sight.

  The children had all discovered their gifts, and now they had a true leader. The varcolac cursed in the dim light. He could not allow this to go any further.

  “Well, it wasn’t the grand tour,” Loch said, shutting the door behind the twins when they entered an expansive kitchen on the first floor, “but we’ll get to that later. Right now you need to know what mess you’ve all gotten yourselves into.”

  He looked over at Nash, who set Charlie on an available barstool. Charlie sat slumped over, but managed not to fall off the seat.

  “You, boy,” said Loch. “Go look in those cabinets over there. I assume you know how to make cocoa?”

  Nash glowered as he walked to said cabinets, pulling a giant jar of cocoa powder from the top shelf. “I have a name, you know.”

  “Oh you do? It really hadn’t occurred to me. What’s your name, then, boy?”

  “Nash.”

  “Parents only give you one name, eh?”

  “Nash. Stormstepper.”

  “Ah, yes, it goes with the attitude quite well. Who’s the boy with the eyes?”

  “Charlie Sullivan.”

  Loch nodded to himself. The five would need a leader. The boy with Sight would be the one. He would require extra training, extra guidance.

  “And you two.” He waved at the twins. “Who are you supposed to be, Paper and Ink?”

  “Lisa Vadiknov,” said Lisa.

  “Liev Vadiknov,” said her brother.

  “Twins. Joy. Alright, to get started‌—‌oh wait, and you are…?” he began, looking at Darcy. “Never mind.”

  With a huff, Darcy crossed her arms, struck a pose, and scoured off a look that communicated every word she was unable to speak at the moment, some of them undoubtedly quite colorful.

  “Alright, to get started, you five ninnies just walked blindly into the current residence of a Monster Hunter. That would be me. I’ve been here for a couple years now, looking for a monster, you see‌…‌I see you all caught yourselves one…,” he said, gesturing to the domovoi.

  He stopped and frowned, thinking to himself. They had caught a monster. They might survive this, yet. If only they could.

  He snapped out of his daze and continued.

  “I’m guessing you’ve managed to figure out this has something to do with the missing persons of the last couple years. Am I correct?”

  “We have,” said Liev.

  “Good. I’m glad you all aren’t completely ignorant. Now, this monster I’m after, it’s a tricky one. There’s a portal behind the Key, but I can’t get through. I’m not entirely sure what the monster is, though I have a hunch. If I’m right‌—‌and I pray I’m dead wrong‌—‌then this tomte here is one of the monster’s many servants.”

  “Tomte?” Lisa asked questioningly.

  “Yes, little miss. That’d be the thing you and your albino brother are holding between you.”

  “No it’s not. This is a domovoi.”

  Loch arched his gray eyebrows.

  “You know, I’m actually impressed you know that. You’re half right. It is a domovoi, if you speak Russian. But if you’re a Scot, it’s an uruisg. If you’re a Swede, it’s a tomte. Remember girl, just like humans, monsters appear in every region of the world. Different country folk call the same monsters by different names. Understand?”

  Beneath his makeshift blindfold, the Chief of Assistants curtly lifted his chin, unimpressed with any human’s name for what he was.

  “Now I’ve told you what I’m doing here, it’s your turn. What were you hoping to achieve by breaking into my house?”

  “We were coming to kill the varcolac,” said Lisa.

  Loch paled. “What varcolac?”

  Instead of telling him, Lisa just rolled her eyes and took the diary from her large jacket pocket and pushed it toward him across the countertop. The tiny Exsecrifer dragon was still curled up on the spine.

  Loch picked the book up, hands trembling.

  He knew, of course, what varcolac she meant. When he came to Hunter’s Grove, Loch knew the possibilities. But there had been a glimmer of hope the Dark Prince would never come back.

  While Loch read through the old, weathered pages of the diary, Nash served everyone hot cocoa in large silver goblets studded with rubies and other gems. He found them in one of the nearer cabinets. He even made a cup for Charlie, who he sat down next to when he finished serving everyone else.

  “I’m not sure he’ll need that,” said Liev, uncharacteristically solemn.

  “I can hear you,” Charlie said matter-of-factly.

  Everyone jumped at the sound of his quiet, distant voice‌—‌except for Loch, who was too immersed in the varcolac’s diary.

  “Thank you, Nash,” said Charlie, though his cup of hot cocoa remained untouched. He stared blankly through the stone-tiled floor, unblinking.

  Loch continued reading, flipping the crackling pages every other minute. Nash got up, restless and needing something to do. He found soap and a rag and washed out the hot cocoa pot.

  Charlie blinked. No one saw it, but the whites of his eyes had just started to reappear. His breathing had become a little faster; not normal, just less comatose.

  The Chief of Assistants squirmed next to the twins. They had let go of him, but he was sitting tightly between and just a little forward of them, so they could keep an eye on him. He rubbed his arms, which still stung mildly from their black-white bonds, and sniffed at their hot cocoa. He liked what he smelled.

  Tentatively, he raised one long finger and made a small, polite cough.

  “Eh, human,” he said in his thin voice to Nash.

  “Name’s Nash.”

  “Yes, silly me, yes…Nash…what is that, ah, lovely liquid? Be some left?”

  Loch snapped the diary shut. He walked over and ripped the jacket from over the Chief of Assistant’s head. The monster’s pupils shrunk in the sudden light. Loch grabbed the wet rag that Nash had been using and tried to wipe the bloody word from the monster’s forehead, but it did not work. The rag hissed and steamed, as if it had been placed on a burning stovetop.

  Loch threw the rag in the sink without looking and picked the Chief of Assistants up by his scrawny shoulders, shaking him roughly.

  “You! Scab. What’s your name?”

  The Chief of Assistants growled, shaking his head. Names were not something good to give Hunters. They could be used against a monster in many different ways.

  “You’ll tell me if you know what’s good for you! Or should I get out some salt? I know I have some in one of these blasted cabinets. Boy‌—‌Nash‌—‌do me a favor and look in that cabinet over there, will you? There should be‌—‌”

  “No! No! Dräng! My name…is Dräng…,” he panted, seeing Loch wave Nash off the search for salt.

  “Dräng, eh? You’re the one I’ve seen lurk about the grounds, aren’t you? And there are more of you, aren’t there? Don’t lie!”

  The Chief of Assistants hesitated before nodding morosely.

  “Tell me Dräng‌…‌your master, he wrote this diary, yes?” He waved the diary back and forth. “What’s your part in all this?”

  Loch knew what he was doing. For one, having Dräng’s name would make the little monster more inclined to answer honestly. Also, Dräng’s kin were mischievous creatures, but not inherently evil. Accusing him of being a part of kidnapping and possible murder would create a sort of guilt trip, which the tomte would be quick to show.

  Still, there was a grimace on Dräng’s face as he spoke.

  “I am the master’s Chief of Assistants! I am loyal! I keep records, I do errands, and I-I-I am only his assistant. I only mark the targets! It’s the Collectors who come and take them back to the master. Not me….”

  Just as Loch had suspected, guilt w
as evident in Dräng’s tone. And this tomte, he thought, could prove to be useful. After reading the diary, Loch knew these five young Hunters-to-be would need all the help they could get. And if the tomte was the chief assistant of the Dark Prince, then his knowledge of the Otherworld would be invaluable.

  Loch decided to try a new approach.

  “Tell me now, Dräng,” he said carefully. “Do you like what you do?”

  The Chief of Assistants stared at the man in horror. He knew the master was still listening. He wanted to tell the truth, that he hated marking the humans for such a fate‌…‌but what would the master do to him if he admitted that? His treachery would be a death sentence. And the master came from a family known for their inventive death sentences.

  Loch waited. “Well?”

  The Chief of Assistants sputtered once, then stopped and clamped his mouth shut. His jaw went up and down and up and down, soundless. Then he cringed.

  “N-n-n-no.”

  Instantly, the Chief of Assistants heard‌—‌no, felt‌—‌the master’s burning anger.

  “Well that’s good to hear. Maybe you can help us, yes?”

  The little devil did not answer. He was staring, defeated, at the floor. He pondered how much longer he would live, and if his death would be at all quick.

  Just then Darcy stood up, knocking her seat noisily to the kitchen floor. She grumbled through closed lips and pointed urgently, spilling some cocoa.

  Everyone looked and saw what she was pointing at. The varcolac’s diary was spewing rays of light between covers. Loch looked down and jerked it open, flipping it open. He stopped on the illuminated page. New words being written, their fiery glow lighting up the kitchen:

  I warn you, Hunter. If you continue prying into my private affairs, my hell hounds will be at your doorstep. Stay away.

  Loch stood there, staring at the page.

  The Chief of Assistants chose that moment to try to escape. Using a type of gift common to his kind, Dräng summoned a glow that spread over the twins’ chairs. The chairs suddenly slid several feet away from him in opposite directions, taking the twins with them.

  Quickly, he jumped from his seat, ducking under Loch’s grasp as he ran past. Dräng stomped on the Hunter’s toes and blasted him with a flash of light from his hand. Loch flew back a few feet.

  Then he paused in front of Darcy, acting like he was looking for the door.

  He knew exactly what he was doing.

  She tackled him, and Dräng fell easily under her weight. He bit deeply into her arm, careful not to swallow the blood.

  In shock, Darcy went intangible, and the little devil ran through her arms, his feet slapping hard against the kitchen tiles. A bolt of lightning flew just over his head and he was supremely glad the Stormstepper boy had yet to master his gift.

  Dräng was right at the door when suddenly his feet were lifted from the floor. He ran in the air, unable to move forward or backward.

  Nash helped Lisa, Liev, and Darcy pick themselves up off the floor before turning to see Loch. The old Hunter stood there, fist outstretched as if gripping the air. He was looking straight at Dräng. It was obvious why the small monster had suddenly levitated into the air.

  “I’ll be back,” said Loch. “Stay here, all of you. The Key can be dangerous for those who get lost easily. I’m going to go put this little scab in a place where he’s safe. Safe from his master, and safe from me!”

  He left them staring at each other awkwardly. Eventually they took their seats. Darcy tried to speak, found she could not, and gave up.

  “Hey guys,” said Charlie, his voice slow and creaky. Everyone jumped again, but he sounded a little more like himself. He looked at them; his eyes were almost normal again, except for the irises still shrouded in red. “What happened?”

  Nash shook his head, setting his mug down. “Man, you really gave us a scare, Charlie.”

  As quickly as they could, they took turns telling Charlie everything that had happened since entering Hunter’s Key. It was as much for Charlie’s sake as it was for theirs. He listened intently to Nash and the twins, trying to talk over each other all at once. Then he took the first sip of his hot cocoa‌—‌which was lukewarm, by then‌—‌before being bombarded with their questions.

  “What happened to you?”

  “Do you know, you’re eyes seem a bit red?”

  “Could you hear us or see us or anything?”

  Charlie shivered, staring at his knees. His irises were still red.

  “I’m not sure what happened. I mean, I guess I’ve got a gift after all. All of a sudden, I just started seeing things. Not like ghosts or anything, but I was seeing what someone else saw. Then I realized I was looking at myself, from your eyes,” he told Nash.

  For a tan Native American, Nash became very pale.

  “I think it was because you were closest to me. I saw what you saw.”

  Charlie shivered again, remembering what else he had seen. A vision of battle, and a death‌—‌just like his nightmares. But he was too afraid tell them. Maybe another time.

  “You looked like you were in pain,” said Nash.

  “You can’t imagine,” said Charlie. “It felt like my eyes were trying to squeeze out of my head and multiply. I was seeing what all of you saw, at once. It hurt, like there were too many people sharing my head.”

  His friends listened to him solemnly. None of their gifts had been painful to acquire. Truth be told, they were a little afraid.

  Darcy pushed a finger through the reddish brown counter experimentally, still amazed with her own gift, making sure it was still there.

  “And there was something else,” Charlie said, sitting up straighter.

  His irises had become a reddish brown, and his pupils were growing to their usual size.

  “It wasn’t inside the Key. I think I was seeing what the varcolac was seeing. He was sitting in this great big hall, sitting with a quill in his hand. And then everything got jumbled. He stood up and it was like all of the light had gone out. I think he knew. I caught a few glimpses after that but they were blurry, like he was trying to keep me out.”

  “That’s freaky,” said Nash from his place by the sink. “But‌…‌interesting, too.”

  Lisa sat forward. “The domovoi, Dräng, he said it was called the Sight.”

  “He was right,” said Loch from the doorway.

  That they were startled was an understatement.

  “It is the Sight. Quite a remarkable gift, and not one that’s found commonly.” He stared at Charlie, distant and lost in thought, making Charlie more than a bit uncomfortable.

  Loch was sure, now. Charlie was the one. The Sight was not simply a gift. It was a calling, of sorts. It certainly was not something one sought out. Many Monster Hunters considered it more of a curse. Either way, it was a powerful gift, only found in Hunters with great potential.

  He would have to teach the boy everything. He would have to teach them all, but the boy in particular would have to be carefully taught.

  “Alright,” he said, breaking away from his thoughts. “It’s nearly 10:30. You all should go home and rest.

  “Go home and rest?” snorted Lisa. “After all we’ve seen? I, for one, still have questions.”

  “Fair enough, but no doubt you’ve all had a big day, so go home and get your bearings. I’ll expect you all back here tomorrow. There is much to do, and not much time left to do it. So, tomorrow?”

  None of them agreed or disagreed, but he already knew the answer.

  “Come to Frederickson Street, tomorrow afternoon at 5 o’clock sharp. You all have some learning to do. I’ll show you the way out.”

  He led them from the kitchen down a hallway fitted with red drapery and dark redwood flooring, lit by pale candles. They came out a side door into what looked to be the Main Foyer, with two marble staircases that wrapped circularly from the bottom floor to the second, where they became a single stairway and led into some grand portion of the Key. Above t
he landing was a high-up balcony. A huge chandelier hung next to the balcony, directly above the indoor fountain, which was dry and dirty.

  There were many doors in this room, all of them closed or leading off into unseen places. But all of those doors would have to be explored later. Loch led them straight to the great double doors that gave entry to the Key. They were similar to high, arched doors that might lead into a castle. He opened one of the doors, proving to be stronger than he looked, and shooed them out and onto the steps, pointing them to the section of woods where they had originally watched him.

  “There’s a small hole in the gate covered by a bush. It isn’t far from where you all were last night. You all know your way down from there, don’t you?”

  They all looked at the woods a little sheepishly.

  “Frederickson Street, tomorrow. 5 o’clock!”

  They turned to go.

  “Oh,” Loch added, feigning forgetfulness. “And Darcy?”

  Darcy turned to look sourly at Loch.

  “You can speak now.”

  He shut the massive door before she could say anything.

  Chapter 6: That Which Was Hidden, Revealed

  Charlie was the first one to show up. He had worn sunglasses today during school, with a note from the nurse’s office saying that he was suffering from a bump on the head, making him a little “sensitive to light.” Mrs. Pinkerly was grievously unable to do anything when he had given her the slip of paper. It also meant she could not tell when he wasn’t looking at the board, or the floor, or her mismatched socks for that matter. Finally Charlie had the upper hand in Mrs. Pinkerly.

  He considered getting “a bump on the head” more often.

  Charlie jogged across Certifus Street until he was under the gnarled trees of Frederickson. Under cover of the trees, he took off the shades and found the black car waiting next to the road, dark and silent. Finding the door unlocked, he climbed into the front passenger seat.

  “’Bout time,” Loch muttered from the driver’s seat. He was looking in the rearview mirror, presumably watching for the others.

  Next came Nash, with Lisa and Liev right behind him. Lisa had the book on Hunter’s Key back in her possession, Charlie noticed, as they all piled into the back seat.