Charlie Sullivan and the Monster Hunters: Witch Moon

by D. C. McGannon

  Derrick nodded gravely. “Yes…I was.”

  Maurie looked at the horizon before them. This road to Drakauragh might have been the safest way, but it was still wrought with danger. There were stories told of the banshees and the dearg due and the other monstrosities roaming the country of late. And of course, there were the wolves.

  “Alright, boy,” she said with a scowl. “Carry on.”

  The land changed. Where it had been beautiful and serene, it now became rough and threatening. The marsh seemed their only route, lined as it was by sheer rocks to their northeastern side and a wild forest to their right. The forest was, according to Derrick and Maurie, not a place where any human wanted to get lost.

  Maurie had instructed them to dismount and move in single file to lead their horses through the muck.

  “Step only where I step,” she said firmly.

  Their feet sloshed and sputtered in and out of the mud, which sometimes threatened to drag them down to a suffocating grave. Nash patted his horse, whispering gently when it began to panic. The others tried to follow his example.

  Only Dräng seemed at home here. The little monster plodded happily in the muddy earth, like a toddler playing in a puddle. He caught Lisa once as she tripped on something in the mud, perhaps some vile type of vegetation or a corpse.

  “There is something behind us,” Chen stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “I can feel the energy. It’s only just appeared—it’s not like the other thing following us.”

  They knew better than to turn around and gawk. Charlie’s eyes shifted red as he glanced over his shoulder casually. He smiled as he saw.

  “Well, this one at least is not a monster,” he said.

  “Well, what is it, boy?” called Maurie impatiently, tugging at the tip of her glove. “We don’t all have those gogglers of yours.”

  Charlie’s smile slipped. He knew she wouldn’t take what he saw very well. “It’s Aisling,” he called back.

  Sure enough, a dark cloud appeared on Maurie’s face.

  “What is she doing here?” Lisa asked with an edge.

  “Somebody’s about to get an earful,” Nash whispered.

  There was much grumbling from the head of the line as Maurie processed this. She eventually called out, “Pay her no mind for now. Let her think she’s sneaking around successfully. As soon as we’re out of this blasted marsh and on a good stopping ground, I’ll deal with her.”

  Even Priest shrunk away from her words. Although her tone wasn’t directed at any of them, it felt as if Maurie was their grandmother, scolding them. Nash grinned, seeing the snappy spirit of his mentor Mrs. McBranson in the old Huntress.

  He pulled up short as Darcy stopped in front of him.

  “What’s the hold up?” asked Lisa from behind them.

  Nash shrugged.

  “I don’t know,” said Darcy. “But it looks like Maurie has her hand up. Wait, I think I see it. Look.” She pointed to the right of their narrow line. A large orange cat had crossed their path, and was strolling forward. It watched them with a bored look from under a small, gangly tree.

  “Is that what I think it is?” asked Lisa.

  Clambering on top of Lisa’s horse, Dräng peered above the group of humans and gave a small squeak.

  Ahead of them, Charlie turned back so they could hear him. “It’s a boggart.”

  Dräng laughed, but it sounded more like another squeak, forced and nervous. “Not just a boggart.”

  “Leave us be,” they heard Maurie call to the cat. “We have no business with you or your ken. We wish you no harm and wish you not to harm us.”

  “Silly human,” muttered Dräng. “Shouldn’t attract attention. Boggarts are meanies.”

  The cat hissed at them, swiping at the air, but got off its haunches and walked past the tree farther into that part of the marsh.

  Still, Chen tensed next to his horse. From his position right in front of Charlie, he spoke low, but clearly, to them. “Be ready, my young friends.”

  “There are so many,” said Charlie in awe.

  Atop the horse, Dräng shook. “Bad, bad, bad! Lots of uglies in their minds.” He jumped down into the marshy ground, hands glowing faintly as he packed some mud into a ball and whispered some sort of monster spell over it.

  “Shhh. Quiet, Dräng,” Lisa hushed.

  “So many what?” Darcy asked, a tinge frantic. “What are you talking about? What do we need to be ready for?”

  “Boggarts. You can’t see them?” Charlie asked, assuming they could not see the monsters’ true forms “I thought they had all disguised themselves as cats.”

  Nash rested one of his R.I.G.G.s on his right thigh. “I don’t see anything.”

  “What are they doing?” asked Lisa.

  Charlie raised his eyebrows in surprise. “They—they’re leaving. They’re not going to attack?”

  “Sometimes it is better for both enemy parties to abstain from fighting,” Chen said. He nodded in approval, looking at Maurie. “Our guide is wise to know this.”

  Dräng fell over in relief. “I take it back. Very smart human, old lady is. Maybe it is I who is the silly one.”

  “We all knew that,” Lisa said, crouching next to her little friend.

  Charlie absorbed what Chen said, wondering if he would have had the guts as a leader to call out to the boggart like Maurie had.

  A crop of sickly-looking trees lay ahead of them. At first they were eager to reach the trees, as it might mean a place with ground solid enough to rest, but they approached carefully, keeping in mind what might dwell in the trees. Maurie looked back to Charlie and Chen.

  “You lads sense anything up ahead that I should know about?”

  Chen closed his eyes as Charlie’s clouded over red. After a moment, they both shook their heads.

  When she reached the trees, Maurie stomped around for a bit and seemed satisfied with the ground’s stability. She waved the party forward.

  “We’ll stop here for a bit,” she said. “You all rest your feet now. I’ll be back in a moment.” And she set back out without her horse, taking a different path.

  “I feel sorry for Aisling,” said Darcy.

  The others looked at her in surprise.

  “You feel sorry for someone?” said Nash, feigning to choke on the sandwich he had pulled out.

  Darcy gave him a disparaging look and continued. “We were in her shoes not so long ago. Only our parents didn’t have a chance to stop us. Aisling didn’t get to make her own choice.”

  Priest peeked out from under his hood at her. “Apparently, she did. She should have respected her grandmother. Our number should be sufficient to take care of this witch problem. No use in wasting time or putting her life in danger just because she wants to see some adventure.”

  “I agree,” said Derrick. “That girl has no clue what Drakauragh is like. If she thought a wolf eating her farm animals was bad…”

  He let the unfinished statement speak for itself.

  Darcy let her arms drop next to her sides and frowned as she noticed a slight lump at her hip. She reached into her left pocket and pulled out a scrap of notebook paper. Curious, she unfolded it, reading to herself silently.

  See me, green monster, do you see?

  Light as a white feather, running and free.

  Chase me, black monster, try to catch me.

  Now where, blue monster, where could I be?

  Tugging the Ward Amulet from her jacket, she smiled, whispering, “Mom.”

  No one paid attention as she walked a little way off from the camp, although Nash did jump up when he heard her squeal.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, running up to her.

  Darcy whirled around, grinning. The last time she had used one of her mother’s poems to unlock the power of the Ward Amulet, it had leveled the
playing field and allowed them to fight their way into the Dark Prince’s castle. Pulling it by the serpentine chain, she tucked her Ward Amulet back under her jacket. “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “Then what was all that about?”

  “All what?”

  “You squealed!”

  Darcy sighed. “Don’t worry about it.”

  She walked back to her sleeping bag, leaving Nash to look up at the sky with exasperation. Looking back at him, she curtly reminded him, “And I don’t squeal.”

  It was half an hour later when Maurie and Aisling came to their camp, Aisling’s black horse in tow. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were downcast. She waved a little at the group watching her.

  “Alright,” said Maurie, “let us continue then.”

  “Will you not rest?” asked Chen, looking concerned.

  “I will not,” she replied. “We need to continue.”

  Priest stood, his hands raised a little. “Surely you and Aisling are weary at this point. We can spare a few minutes.”

  “That was half of an hour gone. It is already noon time—we must get through this marsh before the sun sets. We cannot afford to lose any more time.”

  “I’m sorry, grandmum,” Aisling whispered, her face downcast.

  “As you should be. But never mind it. You’re here now as you wished, now prepare yourself for the hardship and let us move on.”

  No one questioned her any further. They all got up and packed away their snacks, getting ready for their feet to be pulled at and half-drowned by the marshy path.

  After another hour of walking, the ground solidified a bit. There were large pools of water to their right and left, and some scattered on their path here and there, but the path had hardened and widened enough that they could walk side by side now. They did so, talking lightly among each other and taking what comfort they could in not being spread out and exposed in a narrow line. Ahead, they could see the jagged and sheer wall of rocks ending, and knew that this is where they would make their first big change of direction on their journey.

  “I think I miss home now,” said Darcy after stepping in a shallow pool. She kicked a slimy string of moss from her boot. “Ireland was nice. Now it’s kind of gross. And creepy.”

  Aisling, who had been limping along on sore feet, now stood tall. “We have our good and bad, as I’m sure every place has,” she said, sounding offended. “You’ve only seen a small part of Ireland.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Lisa, “it isn’t your homeland, it’s Darcy. She just complains about everything.”

  Darcy stuck her tongue out, saying, “I do not.” She didn’t offer any other argument, though.

  Aisling smiled. “I can see your friendship is strong. That must be what defeated the Dark Prince.”

  Charlie looked over his shoulder. “You don’t have many friends, do you?”

  Aisling’s eyes widened, then she glanced away, looking over the marsh. “I have a few friends in town,” she said raising her chin a little.

  Truth be told, what she had were acquaintances. She rarely ever saw people her own age, and those that she did regarded her and Maurie as loons. They, of course, didn’t really know the truth about monsters.

  Charlie, thinking he had offended her, stammered. “I—I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I just meant…”

  Aisling smiled. “It’s alright. At any rate, I’m glad to have met you all,” she said, looking at Charlie.

  “We all like you, too, and stuff…,” said Lisa, “but maybe we should focus on the road. Look, we’re falling behind the old people.”

  Which they weren’t, but nobody argued with her.

  Nash and Darcy glanced at each other with raised eyebrows and smiled. Dräng caught the exchanges between everyone and giggled, muttering under his breath, “Humans having sweeties for each other. Funnies, indeed.”

  Before long, the shadows lengthened, and what little warmth the sun afforded them was quickly replaced by a dank, eerie chill from the marsh waters. A slight wind would pick up from time to time, causing a few of the Hunters to shiver.

  “Should we stop?” Priest asked Maurie, as their feet met mushy but otherwise solid ground. He meant it as a question, but it was also something like advice or opinion.

  Panting, she nodded. “Yes. We’ve made good progress for the day. Let us rest.” She waddled over to the side, allowing others to pass her, and nearly fell to her seat. Aisling rushed to her side.

  “Are you alright, Gran?”

  “I am fine, child.”

  What sounded like a woman screaming in anguish and horror washed over their campsite.

  Darcy drew her sword, trembling. “What was that?”

  Maurie held her hand up, cutting her off as a second and nearly identical cry came. Lisa watched with understanding as the old Huntress shared a look of dread with Priest. Dräng’s ears went limp, and his pupils seemed to shine like an animal’s as he peered into the darkness.

  A third cry sounded, much closer to the camp. Everyone was startled into half-action. They each drew weapons or merely jumped in place, ready for a fight. Only Maurie sat still.

  Several moments passed, but nothing happened. Finally, Darcy could not help but repeat herself, jarring people back into motion.

  “What was that?” she asked again, as Priest, Chen, Nash and Derrick started eating jerky prepared fresh by Aisling.

  “Banshee,” said Dräng, ears still lowered.

  “We’ve heard banshees before,” said Darcy, slightly impatient. “They didn’t sound quite like that.”

  “This time it was different,” Lisa said in a near whisper. “It wasn’t an attack. It was—”

  “It was a warning,” said Maurie, grim faced. “Or more likely, a foretelling. A banshee that cries three times tells of someone’s death.”

  Priest frowned, lowering his hood. “We will keep a good watch tonight. I’ll take first watch,” he said.

  Charlie waved from where he stood patting down his horse. “I’ll do second,” he said. “I don’t sleep much in the middle of the night anyways.”

  Everyone stood looking at each other for a moment, feeling as if anything might jump out at them from the marsh. Maurie was the first one to move. Standing up, she waved a still-irritated hand at Aisling.

  “Well, since you’re here, make yourself useful, girl. Help us make a decent dinner. But…don’t use a fire. Not tonight.”

  Aisling nodded, getting supplies from her saddle as well as Maurie’s. They ate a cold dinner that night, and slept only because they were exhausted, and not from any feeling of safety or comfort.

  Lisa woke with a start, feeling eyes on her. She realized she was shivering, the air damp and cold, and pulled her knees to her chest to warm up. Beside her, Dräng whimpered in his sleep, only his ears visible from his sleeping bag. She looked around for what had woken her, seeing nothing in the dark.

  Her eyes adjusted. For a moment, her heart skipped a beat. In the marsh, she thought she saw Liev—a figure of white—but then it seemed like two white dots in the air. She blinked, and saw there was nothing there but a silvery mist swirling in a dance atop the night air. A gnawing, hollow feeling grated at her insides.

  Wiping the tears from her eyes, she saw Charlie sitting nearby, watching the marsh neutrally. He glanced at Lisa when she stood.

  “See anything?” she asked, sitting down next to him.

  “Trails of magic, mostly. There have been a few things—living things—roaming around, but nothing that’s taken an interest in us.”

  “No wolves?”

  He looked at her with a hint of concern, shaking his head.

  Lisa glanced at the camp out of the corner of her eye. Everyone seemed to be asleep.

  “At dinner the other night,” she said, “there’s something you hid from the rest of us. Something
you saw with the Sight. And on the plane ride here, you saw something then, too. What are you not telling us?”

  Charlie sighed, avoiding her eyes. “I didn’t see anything on the plane. Just a glimpse of Miss You-Know-Who. I think.”

  “That’s not what I asked,” said Lisa. “I asked what you were hiding from us.”

  “Why do you think I’m hiding anything from you?” Charlie asked defensively.

  “Because the last time you forgot to mention something to us, it turned out to be about my brother being cursed for death!”

  The air between them became sharp and cold. Charlie’s eyes started to well up, and Lisa realized she said something she shouldn’t have. Liev’s death was not Charlie’s fault, although she sometimes wanted to blame him for it. She knew, though, how much her brother’s sacrifice still haunted him. Lisa reached out softly and placed her hand on Charlie’s shoulder.

  “Charlie… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

  He didn’t answer. He wanted to, but he couldn’t. Charlie felt what he thought was a strain of magic course through him at Lisa’s touch. He wondered if it was her gift, or his feelings.

  Charlie reached down and plucked a blade of thick grass and wrapped it tightly around his finger. He allowed his thoughts to escape him for a moment. He was confused. But still, he recognized this feeling. Lisa’s voice brought him back from the blade of grass.

  “I just want to make sure we aren’t missing anything this time. That we’re all on the same page.”

  The silence actually felt painful to Lisa. After a while, she gave up and went back to her sleeping bag, and curled up. When Nash got up to take Charlie’s place, she was just starting to drift, still feeling guilty.

  Not long after that, Nash was screaming at everyone to get up. The wolves had come.

  Chapter 4: The Hunters, Hunted

  Donnie Wickles heard the scratching at the window by his bedpost, then felt cold, wretched fingers grab hold of his shoulders and give a good shake.