When the van slowed down enough, Lisa threw the door open and jumped out. She had to backtrack along the road a little, but it wasn’t hard to find Dräng. He stood twirling in the road, eyes open too wide.
“Dräng? What’s wrong?”
“Lisa? Is you?”
“Yeah.”
“Can’t see. Bright lights, eyes burn.”
Lisa almost laughed despite herself. “Sorry Dräng, you just looked at the van’s headlights with your night vision on, probably. I’ll carry you. We need to hurry.”
“I smell blood,” he said as she picked him up like a toddler. “Something bad happened.”
“Yeah, something bad happened.”
When Lisa climbed back into the van, Aisling freaked out.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “Why are you bringing that monster in here?”
“Chill, blondie. Dräng’s a friend.”
“But—”
“We can explain later! Dying guy in the back.”
Aisling floored it, her initial shock overcome—for now.
“Who is blondie?” asked Dräng.
“Don’t call her that,” Lisa whispered. “It could be considered rude.”
“But you…”
“How are your eyes?”
“I see foggy people.”
Before long the van passed through an open gate and the road smoothed out a bit. The fog cleared up just enough to see an old mansion. The Hunters immediately compared it to Hunter’s Key.
Where the Key was messy and looked like a purposely built train wreck, this place was neat and clean, with stables and a well-cared for garden on the side. And unlike the Key’s foreboding, moody presence, this place felt sad and, despite the grazing horses, lonely.
“Start getting him into the house,” Aisling said. “I’ll get help.”
Aisling ran into the mansion, past a surprised butler, leaving the front door open. Warm light poured out, guiding them in as Priest and Chen went up the stairs backwards trying to keep the pilot’s head above his feet, which Nash held carefully in front of himself. The pilot moaned, and they talked to him encouragingly.
Charlie, Darcy, and Lisa watched, feeling useless as they waited to move up the steps.
They had just entered the house and been greeted by the servant—a tan, grey-haired man—as an old woman began to hurriedly descend the stairs. She was small and hunched over, with curly white hair, a mousy nose, and sharp green eyes. Those eyes lingered on Dräng for a moment, but quickly shifted to the pilot.
“Take him to the dining room,” she said, her voice ringing down the stairs, as she pointed to their left.
Aisling came back down the stairs, heading in the same direction. They entered a large room that held a long table lined with dozens of chairs and pristine china. Aisling pushed it all aside, scrunching up the white table cloth and making tea cups, delicate plates, and forks and knives all clank and ring against each other.
“Put him here,” she said, pulling chairs out of their way. The old woman appeared, rolling up her sleeves and pulling on a pair of leather gloves and latex ones on top of those. She told Aisling a list of things to fetch to help the dying man.
“You children,” said the woman without turning around, “make yourselves at home in the parlor across the hall. You will only be in the way here.”
Passing Priest and Chen and Aisling, the Monster Hunters were guided from the scene by the butler and to the room she described, where they waited.
“Can I fetch anything for you?” asked the man. “Warm milk, tea, water?”
Charlie shook his head while the rest stayed silent.
“Right, then. My name is Marcus. Please call if you should require anything.”
“I tried to warn you,” Dräng said to Charlie. He could apparently see just fine now. “Hoped you would see me with the Sight.”
“I know,” said Charlie. “But it was too late.”
“I am sorry. Hopes the bloodied human does not die for my short notice. When I travelled through the ley lines, nothing seemed wrong. I could find no other monster but me. Then witches found me and wolves chased me.” Dräng shuddered at the memory.
“What happened then?” asked Lisa.
“They lose track of me. I am very slippery,” he said with a devilish grin.
The Hunters knew this to be true. Dräng had even escaped Loch’s superior tracking skills, before Dräng had accepted them as allies.
“After that,” he continued, “I followed them, knowing too late they meant you harm. I tried to contact you with mind, but that is not my strongest gift.”
“It’s okay,” said Charlie. “You did good. It was my fault for not understanding it right away.”
Dräng shook his head slowly, looking at the rug beneath him. “I have a bad feeling here. Witches and wolves up to bad plots.”
They each drifted into a somber stasis, looking out the window into the overcast sky, or staring at, but likely not seeing, the small bookshelf by the fireplace, each with their own thoughts heavy on their minds.
“Come on,” said Priest from the doorway, making them jump. “Dinner is set. I’ll show you where you can wash up.”
“The pilot?” asked Charlie.
“He’s alive. Asleep, and not well, but he should be okay.”
The scout entered the den, tail tucked between the legs. The other wolves lined his pathway, guiding him to the Alpha wolf. They also wanted to know what had happened, and where the scout’s stronger companion was, but the Alpha came first.
A low growl echoed through the cave, and the scout tried to speed up. Finally he came to a black hole in the cave and stood there, his head lowered. The Alpha prowled forward from the inky darkness on all fours, circling the scout.
He was not a cruel pack leader. He was the most violent of them, and the most ferocious, but he gave his wolves their fair share, and he did not harm them unless they challenged his role as Alpha. Very few wolves had done so.
Still, his pack showed the appropriate fear when addressing him.
The Alpha barked, indicating the scout should speak. They carried on a conversation no human—not even most monster races—would be able to understand.
The entire pack bristled at the news of their lost brother, and the current safety of the young Hunters. They were a threat, and the pack would not be satisfied until that threat was nullified.
The Alpha snarled an order, one that set them to howling. A handful of wolves gathered, ones who had been there when the Hunters had stormed through the Otherworld. The Hunters would be weaker now, on Earth, but no chances would be taken. These wolves would be ready.
The Alpha stepped to the front of the small team. He would be there to see the Hunters fall. He repeated the order, this time louder, more ferociously. It was a simple order.
Kill.
They entered a smaller dining room—for which they were thankful, not wanting to dine with the sleeping, bloodied pilot—where the old woman stood at the head of a smaller, well-worn table. Aisling stood beside her quietly, smiling at the group as they walked in.
“You are younger than I’d imagined,” said the old woman, looking them over with a keen green eye. “My name is Maurie McHugh. I am to help guide you all to Drakauragh. You four children must be the Monster Hunters of Hunter’s Grove, you two the prisoners of the Dark Prince, and you…the former servant of the Prince, whom I have heard only a little about. Which leaves you, young man. You must be Derrick. Please, sit. We will acquaint ourselves better over a hot meal.”
They sat, followed by a chorus of scooting chairs and unsure etiquette.
“Tell me, you are the one they call Priest?” Maurie asked, looking at the old Hunter.
“I am he.”
“Would you kindly say grace over our food then, Priest?”
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br /> He nodded, after some hesitation. It had been a long time since he had invoked a prayer. But his God was unchanging, unlike his world. Everyone at the table bowed their heads, even Chen who was not of this faith but who respected his comrades.
“Father in Heaven,” he prayed, “we thank you for this provision. Bless it, and honor our efforts toward the task that lies ahead of us. Bring us home. Amen.”
Knives scraped across plates as the eight of them cut into their steaks, a meal cooked by Aisling and served by Marcus. Maurie and Aisling, as it turned out, lived on a large plot of land with numerous herds of cattle and sheep, as well as a stable full of horses and an extravagant garden full of herbs and vegetables. Everything they ate was tended to by Aisling and Marcus. Priest and Chen nodded appreciatively, complimenting the meal.
Dräng, for one, merely stuffed his face as politely as he could manage, both starving from the journey and enjoying the food.
“Do you like it?” asked Aisling. After a moment of awkward silence, Charlie looked up from his plate and realized she was asking him.
“Me? Yes. It’s very good.”
Aisling beamed at him. Lisa glanced between the two, narrowing her eyes, a gesture that Darcy caught and caused her to smile.
“Are you really a priest, Priest?” Nash wondered aloud. The thought that the name was literal had not crossed his mind until the man had prayed over their meal.
“Aye. I was, at least. I would travel around to counties that needed me, and I’d, well…take care of monsters and their respective results under a faction of Hunters that were sanctioned higher up in the Church. I…there was a time when I no longer answered to those men, but set out on my own.”
“My family told stories of you when I was a young girl,” said Maurie. “They said your real name was lost in your legend.”
“I wouldn’t say legend,” Priest said with a cough. “But it is true. People took to calling me by my craft.”
“I always thought that priests were guys with robes who just meditated all day,” said Nash, stuffing his mouth with potatoes.
“Those are monks, Nash,” Lisa said with a roll of her eyes.
“Yeah, well, I mean I didn’t think priests went around slaying monsters, okay?”
“Many of us did, back then.”
“Like the monks of my land,” said Chen. “They were respected spiritual leaders, and peaceful. But they were not so passive as to lay down and die when their temples were invaded by jiangshi. They were warrior-priests. Your people no doubt felt the same way about monsters.”
“Aye.”
Maurie nodded. “A great-grandfather of mine several generations ago was a priest and a Hunter. He was part of the Council, as well. Many in my line have tried to carry on in his footsteps.”
The Council was something Loch had talked about, but only briefly, to his pupils. It was the governing body of the Monster Hunters around the world, if the words governing body could be used. The Council was small, with no more than six members worldwide at one time. Rarely did they ever meet, and only to make the most important decisions.
All four of them suspected that Maurie was on this Council. It was, perhaps, why Loch had contacted her specifically.
“I’ll be going along with you all,” said Maurie, “so I’d like to know what type of Hunters you are.”
“You are going with us?” asked Priest. “I was not aware.”
“Drakauragh is my responsibility. Unfortunately, time has caught up with me, and this new, old foe…I’m no longer certain I can hold my post.” She looked them in their eyes, honest and bold, and not hiding her regret. “I hope you don’t find it too prodding a question, but what are your gifts?”
Aisling leaned towards her grandmother, a guarded look in her eye. “Charlie has the Sight,” she whispered.
“Yes, Loch told me you have the Sight, boy. My son was afflicted with the same. Wasn’t pretty, what he went through with that gift.”
Charlie’s face darkened. “I can imagine.”
“Aye, I bet you can. It’s a useful gift, to be sure. But I want to make sure you don’t die of insanity, as he did.”
Charlie noticed how Aisling stared at her plate, okay on the outside, but not on the inside.
“Now, what of you others?” asked Maurie.
The four teens looked at each other a little awkwardly before Darcy offered to go first.
“I can walk through walls, or I can become hard, like a rock.”
“I’m sure that is very useful in certain situations.”
Nash grinned. “I shoot lightning bolts out of my feet when I stomp.”
“Ah, I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of such a gift. I’d love to see it—”
Nash stood up eagerly.
“—not in the house, of course. And you, young lady?” she asked Lisa.
“Well, I have this…energy, I can use to bind monsters with. My brother had it, and we were stronger when we used it together, but….”
A few tears threatened to fall, but Lisa managed to keep them in. Maurie nodded understandingly and gave the girl her space by changing the subject.
“What about you two?” she said, looking back and forth at Chen and Priest.
“My gift comes merely from my training,” said Chen. “My master taught me how to control the energy flow that is around us.”
Everyone looked at Priest. He looked back at them for a moment, then reached under the table and drew a large sword.
“I don’t walk through walls or shoot bolts of whatnot. But I can still give any monster a run for their money, I’ll tell you that.”
“Of that, I have no doubt,” said Maurie. “And finally, what about you, little monster?”
The table grew a little quieter. There was no insult in her words, but those who did not come from the Key certainly seemed on edge around Dräng.
Dräng looked up sadly from the plate he had been licking. He sat straight in his seat, wiping his mouth with a napkin primly. “I was the Chief of Assistants to a bad, ugly Greater,” he said, sounding a little ashamed, a little glad. “I have many gifts that can help.”
Maurie nodded, looking approvingly over the group.
“What about you?” Darcy asked Aisling, trying to be friendly.
Aisling looked at her meal, her cheeks glowing a little.
“She does not have a gift,” intercepted Maurie. “At least not yet. I shall tell you all about myself. I have learned other gifts over my lifetime, but the one I was born with was Mors Tāctum, the Death Touch. Like the Sight, the Death Touch is a dark gift. It’ll give you your fair amount of trouble until you learn to control it.”
“How does it work?” asked Darcy.
“Oh, you touch something and it becomes weak or ill. Others with the Mors Tāctum have used it with greater potency, but I’ve never actually killed anything with my gift except for flowers. I was never allowed in the garden after that. It’s a cruel gift on its user, because you have to make sure it’s always under control.”
She looked at Charlie, who was listening intently. The leather gloves still covered her small hands, and they spoke to him of a life lived with care as a necessity. He looked into his water, contemplating his own difficult gift, when a sudden pain behind his eyes knocked him back against his chair, where he slumped in his seat.
“Charlie?” somebody cried. “Charlie!”
The witch looked into her pool of black water at the humans, four of which intrigued her.
“This is what you wanted me to see?” she asked, looking up from the water.
The wolf in the corner nodded, its hackles raised.
“Inconsequential,” she said. “I already knew of their coming. They are children, and the others are broken old fools.”
The witch looked at the bloodstained charts laid out on the stone tab
le in front of her. On it was the lunar cycle. Highlighted in blood was a picture of the full moon—it was coming soon.
“Still, they are a minor threat. The Dark Prince underestimated them, and I shall not. Your Alpha is ready to deal with them, yes?”
The wolf stood on all fours, his eyes level with hers. He barked in the affirmative.
“Very well. I trust he is capable of dealing with them. And your new pack member, has he turned yet?”
It shook its maw.
“A pity. He would be of great use to me against these Hunters. As soon as the turn is over, bring him here so I can complete it.”
The wolf began to growl, but stopped at a raised hand from the witch. She felt someone else’s eyes seeing through hers. She chuckled, looking at her reflection in the black pool. Instead of her reflection though, Charlie looked back, his eyes red.
The Sagemistress whispered something old and the boy was shut out from her mind.
A clap on his shoulder brought him back. Priest stood over him at the dinner table. “Are you alright, boy?”
Charlie looked up in a daze. The edges of his eyes were red—red beyond being simply bloodshot. “Yeah… Just… I don’t know.”
“Speak, boy. What is it?”
“I don’t know. I saw water, black water and a map or…no, a chart of the moon. Then my head felt like it was on fire. I think it was the Sagemistress.”
The room tensed at the name. Charlie closed his eyes, remembering other details. He remembered the pseudo-conversation between the witch and a wolf, and its implications. He glanced at Lisa and decided not to tell her, concerned about what she would find in pursuit of her brother.
And yet, he couldn’t leave the country with the possibility that Liev was still alive. Until now, Charlie had believed it was his fault that Liev had died. That guilt hung over him every day. He would atone for that without dragging the others into it.
Maurie was watching him carefully. Charlie got the feeling that whatever the Sight did to her son still haunted her. Aisling, too, watched with wide eyes. Had it been her father that was driven insane? He wondered if he would die a madman as well.
Charlie Sullivan and the Monster Hunters: Witch Moon Page 5