Witch Hunter: Into the Outside

by J. Z. Foster

  Richard licked his lips, not completely certain, but shook his head anyway. “Not necessarily. He saw us going there and then he reacted. There is a new outcome from what he saw before, and divination magic is draining, especially if he’s weakened. But I get your point. We should get moving.”

  “Then what do we do?” She turned her gaze to the pages of the book. “How can we stop him from seeing where we’re going?”

  Richard nodded and pulled a small plastic sheet from his satchel. He had pencils, pens, and chalk. “We’re going to have to ward the van.” He slid the van’s side door open and stepped out onto the slick wet grass. He took the chalk and glanced at his book, then traced the same patterns he saw in the sketches of the book, large circles with smaller lines and circles inscribed between them. In fifteen minutes, he had a spiraling web of lines and shapes across the side.

  “What the hell are you doing to my van?” Ted finally made his way over to him, more curious than annoyed. Beth only sat back to watch.

  “I’m warding the van to keep prying eyes out. He’s been watching us. Maybe not our present selves, but our future whereabouts in brief pieces. He’s trying to counter us.”

  Ted groaned. “Well, I hope he saw me taking a piss over there at least.”

  Richard slid his fingers onto the sanctified jewelry that still hung from his neck. “I don’t think he can see me.” He held it up for the others to see. “It blocks me from a lot, but he could be tracking either or both of you. It’s best if you stay inside the van as much as possible.”

  “Where did you get that?” Ted reached out to touch it.

  “I was told that the iron bits wrapped with silver you see here were once nails used to crucify saints. It’s really old. It repulses almost anything they can throw at you. It keeps your mind clear. I didn’t believe that until today. I didn’t believe any of this. How could any of it be real?” The admission nearly made Richard slip back to his former, less confident self. “Until today, it wasn’t real. I wasn’t real.”

  “But look what you’ve done, Richard!” Stepping forward, Beth took his arm. “You’ve saved us several times over, and you’re still here with us. We believe in you.”

  He nodded his head, and though exhausted, he felt a surge of pride. “You two better get in the van.” He did his best to hide his feelings. The idea that someone was glad that he was around made Richard ready to take on the worst the witch had to offer.

  Richard finished marking, leaving the gray news van now with wide, strange symbols scribbled across it. When inside, he pulled some pouches from his bag. “I can mix up something too that will help obscure you from magicks. It’s not a complete failsafe, but it’ll at least make it more difficult for him to find us.”

  Richard worked with what he had, which happened to be two old coffee cups Beth and Ted had from the morning. They dumped the leftover coffee out the window and Richard mixed things there—a sprinkling of holy water, a taste of Chamomile, a sprinkle of Devil’s Shoestring, a thin-sliced Galangal root. Then he poured something from the unlabeled vial—a thick, black substance, that didn’t pour so much as ooze out.

  “Is that Chamomile? I drink that before I go to sleep every day. You’re saying some witch’s brew has things you can buy at a grocery store?”

  Richard finished pouring and stirred everything together. “You’d be surprised what you can do with everyday items. You know, with duct tape and a little salt, I could make a barrier that even a friggin’ zombie couldn’t cross.” He offered the drinks to Beth and Ted.

  Ted was hesitant; he just stared into the thick, green liquid. “Now, this does what exactly? It’s not going to give me the shits, is it?”

  “No, it’s just for protection. It will only last for the rest of the night, though. It doesn’t eliminate his ability to see you so much as camouflage your aura. It’ll make it much harder for him to find you.”

  Beth methodically described the contents of her drink before downing it in a single gulp, and Ted followed suit shortly after. Wincing heavily, they both began to cough and hack.

  “Richard, it tastes terrible!” Beth barely choked the words out.

  “So I’ve heard.” He grimaced.

  “You’ve never even tried it yourself?” Ted looked annoyed as he turned to spit out the window; a sludge of black tar-like spit hit the ground. “You better be right about this!”

  “Well, we should be fine for a while to plan our next move.” Richard shrugged his shoulders.

  “Which is what?” Beth said. “Gathering something to fight with? You talked about needing something ‘pure.’ I guess components for another incantation?”

  “Yeah, but that’s the hard part.” Richard tapped his chin. “I don’t have anything like that with me, and I don’t know where we can get it.”

  “Can’t we oil your knife up with puppy blood and call it a day?” Ted asked earnestly.

  “Gross,” Beth slapped his arm with the back of her hand.

  Richard sighed. “Yeah, I don’t think that’d work anyways.” Richard turned to stare at the inside of the van, his mind working out the puzzle.

  What can we use to fight it?

  “Well, maybe the wight was right.” Ted shrugged. “Who is up for food?”

  “Really, Ted? You want to eat?” Beth looked at him in disbelief.

  The wight perked its head up at the suggestion. A horrific-looking expression of joy spread across its face. “Feasting would be the proper course of action, giving you more feeble humans time to rest and deliberate our next undertaking.”

  “Yeah.” Ted nodded and gestured to the wight. “See, he’s got it.”

  “Do we have time?” Beth glanced from them. “Richard said we were on the clock. Are we just burning time?”

  “Damn, Beth,” Ted said with clear frustration. “There will be plenty of witches to kill after we’ve had something to eat. Am I the only one that’s just completely drained?”

  Richard spoke up, “It’s not a bad idea. I mean, what else can we do right now? Of course, we couldn’t bring you into an all-night diner or anything,” he said, pointing his finger at the wight. “We could bring you out a steak or something though.”

  “We saw an all-night diner off the exit on the way in, right Ted?” Beth asked with a glance at Ted. “How about we get over there, catch something quick, and fill up our tank.”

  Ted agreed and they set out. Ted pulled the van out from the grass; it wasn’t long before they pulled into the diner. The wight had to be convinced to wait in the van. Richard had to explain to the wight several times how upsetting it would be for others if it stepped out, even if it wasn’t trying to eat them. In the end, being under Richard’s authority, the wounded wight had no choice but to remain in the van.

  “There will be ample portions of both the ham dinner and coke of cola as you have described, yes?” The wight had stuck its entire head out the van door to speak. “And a filling of browns well-hashed?”

  “Yes, yes. But only if you’re quiet!” Richard tried to give it as serious a look as he could.

  They hadn’t gone far before Ted began to complain. “I hate that guy. I mean I do. I really, really do.”

  “You just hate him because he tried to take a bite out of you.” Richard rolled his eyes.

  “And that’s not a good reason?”

  Beth cut in. “By that reasoning, though, Ted, we should be pretty pissed with you. You did try to shoot us both.”

  “It’s not the same thing!” Ted shook his head in disbelief.

  Just the thought of that made Richard rub the back of his head where Ted had hit him. A lump was forming.

  The diner was a dive truck-stop with a half-dead, flashing light to tell everyone it was open twenty-four hours a day. Just behind the dirty windows a crooked sign with plastic letters advertised the best waffles in the state.

  A small collection of old men and tired waitresses milled about, and they all looked up to drink them in as they stepped insid
e. Richard and the others’ clothes were roughed up, and there were more than a few bloodstains. Beth’s hair had seen better days, and Ted’s eyes were turning a shade of red. Despite all this, Richard wore a heavy grin along with his bruises, his matted hair, and the satchel that he refused to part with.

  A waitress who was well into her sixties brought them menus once they had found their seats. She hesitated before she spoke. “Rough night?”

  With a polite smile, Beth lied. “We’re making a documentary on Bigfoot.”

  “I see. Well, call me when you’re ready.” She turned and walked quickly back to the counter.

  Richard cleared his throat and placed his menu down. “Is anyone going to think badly about me if I get a milkshake with pancakes?”

  Chapter 13

  “Let me stop you right there, son.” Minges held up a hand. “This is goin’ down a sleepy angle here. You don’t need to be telling me about milkshakes with your pancakes, I assumed as much anyways.”

  “I was building up to something! I was trying to cue you in on how close we were all getting, how we started out that day as just oblivious to this other world, but now we’re planning a witch hunt. Don’t you think that shows our emotional state? That’s something other people need to know—we can do this, they can do this.”

  “Son, you’re laying on that crazy a bit thicker than needed right here.” He waved his hand. “Preaching to the choir right now. I think we need to cut to the meat and potatoes, yeah?”

  “Like what? You want to know what happened, so I told you.”

  “Well for one, you didn’t elaborate too well on that ‘black unlabeled liquid’ you fed out to everyone. Come on now, let’s hear it, you were dosing everyone up on some funny juice, yeah?” He slapped the table, rattling it against the ground. “No need to be hiding it right? Told you before, they’re gonna get you a toxicity test. We’ll see it. Lemme hear the name.”

  “I don’t know what it is—part of the kit they gave me when I headed out.” Richard shook his head. “Really, I don’t know.”

  “I see. Them pupils don’t look too bad neither, so’s I can tell. Maybe you was just eating a little tar then. You certainly wouldn’t be the first junkie to go eating some tar thinking it’ll get ’em high.” He shook his tired head and fanned himself with his hat. “Well, what happened next? Anything exciting or just ya’ll sittin’ around eating pancakes?”

  “Well…” Richard let that trail off and didn’t pick it up again.

  “Well?” Minges prompted him.

  “Well, I was at a bit of a loss for what to do next. If you want to fight a witch, you have to be ready for it. Especially if it’s powerful.”

  “Mmhmm?” Was all the lawyer responded with.

  “They can be brought down just like anyone else, but they have protections, enchantments, and wards. If the legends are true, and at this point I’ve got no reason to suspect they aren’t, you can’t break through them so easily. You need precise ingredients, components, to cut through their barriers. You need something unblemished, something uncorrupted. I guess that’s where the stories of the virgin sacrifices come from.” He trailed off to look at the wall.

  “That so?” Minges raised an eyebrow and leaned in.

  “What?”

  Minges cleared his throat. “Are you unblemished?”

  “What?” Richard said again.

  “You have many lady friends?” He winked. “I think you’re gettin’ what I’m layin’ down.”

  “What!” Richard shook his head. “No! I’m not a virgin. I’ve had tons of sex.”

  “Really?” Minges said, ever the skeptic.

  “Well, at least twice!”

  “At least twi—” Minges shook off the confusion. “You know what, it’s of no mind.” He rubbed his temples and gave an exhausted sigh.

  “No, no. We were thinking more toward flowers or other herbs, but the ones that work are impossible to get here. Really rare stuff—Ghost Orchid, Parrot’s Beak, Middlemist Red.” He nodded. “That last one only grows in two areas of the world, and one of those is a greenhouse in England. They used to grow it there to supply the witch hunters of old Europe, you know? Before they all went kind of, uh, crazy and killed a lot of normal people.” A nervous laugh bubbled from his throat.

  Oh man, I’m not building a good case, am I?

  “Yeah, yeah, I see.” Minges nodded, hurrying things along and seemingly not interested in a history lesson. “So, what then? You drive over to the gas station then and start beating people’s brains in?”

  Richard scoffed and shook his head. “I didn’t kill anyone! And no, we didn’t go to the gas station yet. We didn’t leave. And I came up with an idea.”

  “Oh yeah, eh?” With casual interest, Minges asked, “What’s that, son?”

  Richard looked like he wanted to hold something back. He took a deep breath and puffed out his cheeks. “Well, we needed a bit of advice, so I might have called for a little suggestion.”

  Be careful. Be careful.

  “Quit being so damn vague, son. Let’s hear it.”

  Richard nodded and the words spilled out as if a dam had finally broke. “I found a passage in the book that lets you contact something from The Outside, the place where spirits dwell. I called in a spirit to hopefully get some hints. I didn’t know what would happen. I mean kids try and do it all the time with Ouija boards and things don’t always answer! You can’t compel something to speak with you. All you can do is knock. How the heck would I know what would happen? How could I possibly know that something would actually listen?”

  “What did you do?” Minges leaned in with anticipation and licked his fat lips.

  “You don’t just get to talk with the things in The Outside. It doesn’t work that way. I thought it did, but you’re not just knocking on their door, you’re opening your own.”

  “Yeah, don’t worry. It’s not a big deal. It’s not like you’re letting them into our world or anything.” Richard snickered as he stuffed another forkful of pancakes into his mouth. He only halfway finished chewing before he spoke again, “Trust me, my fourteenth-level wizard uses a similar spell all the time. Basically, you ask a question and you get an answer. That way we can ask what we should be using, right? So we can get an edge.”

  This’ll be cake. If it even works at all.

  Beth swallowed a piece of egg before she spoke in hushed tones over the tape recorder. “Is it really that simple, though? We just call it in here and then ask it a question?”

  “I’m a little concerned here too.” Ted cut in. “What does it get out of this trade?”

  “Not sure, honestly. We can’t be sure it will answer us. Most the time they don’t. Worth a shot though, right?”

  Definitely worth a shot.

  “Richard, this thing isn’t going to potentially try and eat us, is it? I’ve already had two occasions where things tried to eat me today, and I’m not looking for a third,” Ted said, staring and holding up two fingers. He shot a glance at Beth. “I’m pretty sure it’s going to try to eat us.”

  “No, nothing like that! It’s not anything like that. It’s like…” Richard rubbed his chin. “It’s like a squirrel, yeah, like a squirrel that is disembodied, answers your questions, and lives in The Outside.”

  “Richard, that just...” Ted closed his tired red eyes and shook his head, clearly exhausted. “That doesn’t sound like a squirrel at all. Does this thing at least have a tail or something? Squirrels eat nuts and live in trees. They don’t float around or answer questions.”

  “I said like a squirrel!”

  “Wait,” Beth jumped in. “What’s The Outside?”

  “Oh, I’m no expert or anything.” Richard searched the table for some way to illustrate his thoughts. Finally, he held one hand out flat over the surface of the table. “See this?” He asked with a shake of his hand. “This is us, this is where we live. This is our realm, or dimension, Earth, whatever you want to call it.” He held out his other
hand, an inch above and parallel to the first hand. “This is The Outside. Things exist here, not quite in our world, but looking in. A lot of religions have names for it; we just call it The Outside, though.”

  “Well, see.” Ted snapped his fingers. “See, that might be like a squirrel then, it’s outside the window. You should have led with that.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Richard agreed. “That does make it sound more like a squirrel.”

  “Okay, so we call this disembodied squirrel and ask it where we can get a weapon to fight the plague warlock?” Beth lifted her shoulder as if to ask if that was all. “I guess it’s as strange as anything else we’ve run into tonight.”

  “This can’t be that easy, Richard.” Ted scoffed at the idea. “Nothing tonight has been easy.”

  Richard squinted his eyes and wiped some dirt from them. “No, really, it’s not that hard. I think.” He slid his fingers into the worn satchel and pulled out the leather-covered tome and opened it with care. He pointed a finger at a section. “See? You say a few words and that’s it. If the sprite, or spirit, or whatever, wants to answer, then it does. Nothing big. Probably won’t even work.”

  “No.” Ted shook his head. “No, you’re wrong. It won’t be that easy, there’s no way.” He banged a hand against the table, jarring the napkin dispenser and saltshaker. “That squirrel is going to try to eat us, I know it.”

  Richard gave him a blank look and a shrug. “You have a better idea?”

  “Ted, are you our expert now?” Beth smirked before she forked another piece of egg.

  “Well, I’ve got an idea or two.” Ted licked his lips and leaned in to the table. He held silent for a moment, adding emphasis to what he was about to say. “See, we’re going to go find a priest, right? We’re going to have him bless some bullets or a knife or whatever, you know, whatever that kind of shit is that they do. Like the thing they do to kill vampires, right? But let’s be honest, shooting something is easy, but who wants to actually get into something’s face and stab it? Anyways, we bless some bullets. Then we find Mister Plague-Face and, well, that’s that, right? I’m sure that’s in your book somewhere.” He snapped his fingers and pointed at the book. “Find the part about shooting things in the face.”