Charlie Sullivan and the Monster Hunters: Witch Moon

by D. C. McGannon

  He woke up, sliding up against the wall, pulling the covers closer as if they would protect him. The room was silent; cluttered but empty of anything that could be scratching or grabbing. He brushed the hair out of his eyes and tried to lie down again when he heard a rhythmic tap on his window. It was lazy at first, a playful but tuneless clack, clack, clack. He sat up again to watch the window with horror. Nothing was there.

  The tapping picked up its pace, and Donnie recognized the rhythm of the Funeral March.

  Come outside, something voiceless told him. I need your help.

  With shaky legs, and not really knowing why, Donnie slid out of bed. He tiptoed slowly to the window, peering out into the puddles of streetlights that lit up the snow. A form stood just out of the light, raising a hand to wave at him.

  Donnie stepped away from the window with a gasp, sliding against the wall so the stranger would not see him. He peeked to the side, and something like a hot breath fogged up the glass. And although there was nothing visible there, something drew a smiley face with sharp teeth in the condensation. Donnie slid down, hoping that no one—or nothing—could see him from the window.

  Then a beam of light flashed across his room, casting a giant, horned shadow across Donnie’s bed. There was a loud growl and the shadow vanished like smoke, and the beams of light swept from side to side as if they were searching for something. Donnie cowered, sneaking farther into a shadowy corner as the light grew bigger and brighter, accompanied by the sound of feet crunching through the snow. There was a pause, then the light shifted and Donnie heard something like a muffled hammering.

  The hammering stopped, the light turned away, and the footsteps started up again, getting quieter as they moved away from his window. After a few more seconds of shivering in the cold shadows, Donnie crept back to the window on his knees. He was just in time to see those two eccentrics, Fish and Dink. He watched, confused and more than a little scared as Fish picked up the remains of a dead animal—or at least what looked like it—and stuffed it into a trash bag that Dink held out. Donnie ducked down as they passed, peering over the window ledge as they turned the corner, sweeping their flashlights through the neighborhood.

  Remembering the hammering, Donnie looked up. A branch of some weird plant hung there, just over his window.

  Donnie’s eyes narrowed, and his mind began to work. What was going on?

  The horses whinnied and stamped the ground, pulling against the stakes they were tied to. A horde of red eyes gathered in a semi-circle, coming for them. Darcy glanced behind their camp, hoping for a way out, but a pair of too-big white eyes watched them from the darkness there. They were different from the wolves’, but that hardly mattered right then.

  “We’re surrounded,” she gasped.

  Dräng whined, “Outnumbered.” He bent down and started making fist sized chunks out of dirt.

  “We’ve been outnumbered before, and that was by an entire army,” Nash said, trying to console them.

  “We were in the Otherworld, then,” she countered, pulling out her crossbow. “We were stronger.”

  “There are more wolves here than last time,” Lisa said. She didn’t say it out of fear. Her voice was a steely tenor that was reflected in the way she stood. She held her dagger at the ready in her right hand. A black tendril of energy hung from her left like a whip, heavy and writhing with anticipation.

  The others avoided her eyes. They were afraid of what they would see within.

  Behind the others, Charlie tried to hold off the tremors that caused his legs to shake. He gripped Loch’s spear—his spear—with an intense fervor. Here, somewhere in this pack of wolves was the beast that killed Liev. He would avenge his friend, redeem himself.

  Even so, he knew he couldn’t undo the damage that was already done.

  The mist of red eyes began to lope forward.

  “Here they come!” said Charlie, moving in front of his friends. The older Hunters gathered as well, willing to die to protect the next generation.

  Suddenly, Dräng shrunk to the ground, an intense pressure creeping up his back. He looked over his shoulder with one giant eye. “Behind us!”

  “We know!” said Darcy. “They’re everywhere.”

  “No, there’s something behind us! Something worse.”

  But his warnings were hardly heard.

  The first wolf reached the dull firelight, and the pack was nearly upon them. The group of Hunters braced themselves and swung their weapons. Nash’s lightning bolts flashed through the darkness, and Charlie’s spear jarred against something hard—whether it was fur covered torso or claw or tooth, he wasn’t sure. A wolf clawed through Darcy as she phased on the spot, and another had its paw speared by the tip of Priest’s heavy blade.

  Dräng didn’t fight the wolves, though. He crouched, frozen in fear, watching the thing approaching from the other direction.

  And before the battle between wolves and Hunters had truly begun, a tangible blackness rose over them from behind, like an awakened behemoth. It fell upon Hunter and wolf alike, rushing past their legs, the turbulent wind howling through their ears. The air was filled with the smell of smoke and ashes, burning their eyes and noses.

  A heavy presence chilled them to their bones, filling the minds of the Hunters with memories and emotions that were not their own. Anger, hatred, pain. Fire. Murder. Loss.

  Dräng felt himself being watched in the darkness. Out of fear, he found Lisa’s leg and clung to it, and sensed the black thing—whatever it was—become very curious at his friendliness with the humans. It passed him by.

  In the black smoke, the group saw little other than the flashes of fire here and there. But smells and sounds filled the air, causing them to huddle down on the ground and grit their teeth. Sounds like the smacking of bodies thrown aside, the careless snapping of bones, and fire that roared and crackled to life. Smells such as singed fur, blood, and fear.

  A hurried howl mixed with a dozen other yelps and cries. The Hunters knew that the wolves were retreating, although they did not fully understand why.

  The murky blackness withdrew into itself, imploding into a small ball before them with all the violence of some atomic explosion’s beginning. Behind the chaotic form, they could hear the pack’s panicked running. A few of the wolves were still on fire leaving simmering trails in the marsh, while a few pulled their dead or wounded pack mates away from the dying firelight.

  In the darkness, Nash, Lisa and Aisling dropped their weapons and knelt next to a figure convulsing on the ground. It was Charlie. His eyes were completely taken by the Sight.

  I’m sorry, said a young voice. Before them was a small and fragile figure of a young boy, completely made of the black smoke. He was featureless, except for two glowing white eyes, inhuman in their size. The ghostly figure pointed at Charlie. His mind seems more sensitive to my presence. He’s living in my memories.

  “What are you?” asked Darcy. “Why did you help us?”

  A feeling of malcontent pressed down upon them. The boy’s eyes pulsed and rippled with agitation.

  I hate the wolves, and the witches that control them. I hate witches. I hate the wolves. The Sagemistress threatens my forest with her monsters staking their territories. I want you to succeed in killing her. For now, you have to live. But I’ll warn you. Never again get so close to my woods.

  Aisling stepped forward tentatively. “I know who you are. You’re the Blind Boy. You terrorize lost travelers but guide children to safety. Y-your mother was a wi—”

  Be quiet!

  Aisling fell back. She wasn’t sure if her legs had simply given out, or if she had not imagined that shove against her shoulders.

  Yes. It’s true my mother was a witch. It was her fault I was born a wretch. Her fault that we were murdered. She cursed me to live, as she and my father died.

  The ghostly figure of the Blind B
oy looked them over, resonating with contempt and fury. His eyes, blank lights that they were, settled and softened on seeing Charlie, who was trembling. The hate in the air calmed. Charlie gasped and sucked in a painful breath, his body settling.

  I will go now, before my presence causes him any more harm. Kill the witch, or the children of this land will suffer under her evil. Children are not meant to suffer.

  He looked over them once more before dispersing into the air, the black smoke trailing off towards the forest.

  “We should move,” said Aisling. “Keep moving. Maybe it’s safer to sleep when it’s daylight.”

  “Don’t be foolish, Aisling!” Maurie scolded her granddaughter. “The wolves won’t come back tonight, and the likelihood of another attack happening here by any lone monster, with such violence still lingering in the air, is small. This is the safest place we could ask for rest.”

  “Y-y-yes, grandmum.” She knelt down, where Nash and Lisa were tending to Charlie.

  “How is he?” she asked.

  Nash shook his head. “He’s asleep. Probably fine. The Sight gives him a hard time sometimes. I need to go talk to Priest about who’ll take the next watch.”

  As Nash left, Aisling glanced at Lisa. She noticed how concerned the black haired girl looked, her jaw taut, brow furrowed.

  “You’re really worried about him, huh?”

  Lisa looked up, as if surprised Aisling was there.

  “What? Oh, no I…yes. I am.”

  Aisling nodded. She stood and moved a respectful distance away.

  After a while the camp died down. Nash sat on a damp rock that he found, listening for anything else that might try and sneak up on them. Most everyone else was asleep, but Lisa had brought her pack to sit next to Charlie. He was still fast asleep, having never woken, exhausted from his seizure.

  “I don’t blame you, you know,” Lisa said to him, quiet so as to not wake the others. “If anybody is to blame for Liev’s… It’s the Prince, not you.

  “I used to think it was your fault, though. And Liev’s fault. How could he just leave me like that? And how could you let it happen? It wasn’t right for me to think that way, but this isn’t exactly something you just get over. I lost my brother and my best friend. I had to blame somebody.”

  Lisa leaned over, closer to Charlie’s ear.

  “Now it’s my turn, though. If I don’t try right now, it will have been my fault that Liev’s not here. He’s not dead, Charlie. I just know it. And I’m going to prove it.”

  Lisa looked over to Nash, making sure his back was still turned to her. She looked at her horse but thought better of it. Where she was going was no place for a horse, plus it would cause too much commotion. Then she shouldered her pack and hurried past the bundles of her sleeping comrades, fleeing into the darkness.

  Aisling had said something earlier that caught Lisa’s attention. Something about the smoky spirit of vengeance they had met being a guide for lost children. Ignoring his earlier warning, Lisa ran directly for the woods where the Blind Boy made his home.

  Charlie woke to a medley of his own cracking bones and weary muscles. He groaned and sat up, massaging one side of his pounding head. A few images still flitted through his mind. An angry mob, a burning house, and a wave of smoke killing every last soul that stood with torch or weapon in hand. He shivered at the memories the Blind Boy had left him with, the raw feelings of pain, hate, and even fear that still invaded the spirit all these centuries later.

  Charlie stood and stretched. The sun had not come up yet. Still, he felt he couldn’t sleep anymore.

  He saw Darcy tiptoeing around camp and walked over to her, legs still sore. He waved to her, but lost his smile halfway through “good morning.”

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, seeing the worry on her face.

  “I can’t find Lisa. I’ve been on watch, but I just realized, I don’t see her sleeping bag or her pack anywhere.”

  “It’s okay, we’ll find her,” said Charlie, his stomach sinking. He looked over his shoulder to where the wolves had made their retreat. Something in his gut told him she would not have gone that way. It was the same direction they were headed, after all.

  Walking through the sleeping bags, Charlie eventually found Derrick. He shook him until the young man’s eyes cracked just enough to frown at Charlie.

  “Where do the wolves live?” he asked.

  Derrick frowned even more, confused. “Why would you—”

  “Just tell me. Please.”

  “They…they usually attack us from the west. That’s all I know.”

  Charlie shook his head, looking up. “But last night they attacked us from the east. They…”

  He trailed off as he realized the west was blocked off by a thick line off trees, signaling the end of the marsh. The woods went on quite some way in both directions.

  “They can’t go through that spirit’s territory,” he muttered. “They went around. Oh no. Lisa!”

  Charlie stood up and briskly walked to gather his things, leaving Derrick boggled and groggy on the ground.

  “What is it?” asked Darcy. “Do you know where she is?”

  “I think I know which way she went.”

  Charlie walked to Lisa’s empty spot on the ground and shook Dräng’s shoulder. The little monster’s eyes flew open, and he seemed to hyperventilate for a moment before getting up.

  Darcy frowned. “Where—”

  Charlie cut her off, helping Dräng up. “Listen,” he ordered, “tell Priest and Maurie not to worry about us. Just keep on going. We’ll catch up with you. Hopefully.”

  “What is wrong, Charlie?” asked Dräng.

  “I’ll tell you on the way.”

  “Wait, Charlie!” Darcy called, but he and Dräng already started jogging away. He didn’t turn back.

  Aisling sat up, rubbing her eyes. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  Darcy pointed, speechless.

  “Is that Charlie?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is he doing? Drakauragh’s the other way.”

  “Lisa disappeared. He’s going after her.”

  Aisling was silent for a moment, then she sat up and began rolling up her sleeping bag.

  “Wait, what are you doing?” asked Darcy.

  “I’m going with him. I can help.”

  “Not you, too!”

  “Tell grandmum to keep on going. I’ll be back.”

  “Yeah, that’s already on my to-do list, thanks to Charlie. You can’t be serious Aisling?”

  “They’re your friends, aren’t they?” Aisling asked. “Don’t you think they need all the help they can get?”

  Darcy stamped her foot and watched helplessly as Aisling ran off to catch up with Charlie. Despite her irritation, she prayed silently that they would find Lisa, and that they would all come back alive. Behind her, some of the adults stirred in their sleep. She did not look forward to them waking up.

  Lisa stopped ten minutes into the woods, turning to lean against a tree and catch her breath.

  Why have you come here? A young voice cried, enraged.

  Lisa gritted her teeth against the pressure in the air. The smell of smoke, burning wood and flesh choked her, stinging her lungs. His presence was more powerful here, she realized.

  “I need…I need to ask you something.” She turned to find his white eyes glaring from the trees. The rest of him swirled without definition, chaotic tendrils and swirls.

  I TOLD YOU NEVER TO COME CLOSE TO MY WOODS AGAIN, AND YOU CAME STRAIGHT HERE?

  “It’s my brother,” said Lisa, the sudden pain of his anger bringing tears to her eyes. It was all she could do not to fall to her knees.

  Her words started pouring out.

  “The others don’t believe me, but I know he’s still alive. And he’s like y
ou, trapped by a curse. If I don’t save him now, then he will live with that curse forever.”

  The Blind Boy’s anger seemed to diminish a little, his form drawing in on itself to become less like a cloud of angry insects and more like a boy. Lisa gasped at the air, even if it was clearer only by a margin.

  What does that have to do with my woods?

  “You can tell me where he is,” said Lisa.

  The Blind Boy’s eyes squinted, which was terrifying. What exactly is he cursed with.

  Lisa forced herself to stop trembling, daring to look him straight in the eyes. “He was cursed to die a thrice death. And he did die. Poisoned, drowned, and bitten. By a wolf. The Alpha Wolf.”

  The air vibrated with the Blind Boy’s sudden explosion of anger, shoving Lisa against the tree.

  HE IS OF THE WITCH’S WOLVES.

  “Just like you are your mother’s monster!” she cried.

  The force of her words brought the Blind Boy’s childlike anger to a halt. He stood there, wide eyed, expressionless; alien but so very human.

  “You didn’t ask to be cursed, did you? Well neither did he! But it isn’t too late for him. There is a Curse Eater not far away. If I can get my brother there before the full moon…he can still be saved.”

  Silence flowed between them as the Blind Boy seemed to look through Lisa.

  The wolves have a lair to the west of here. When you clear the trees, look for a stone cave. But beware of the Lesser monsters in these woods. I do not bother them, and they do not bother me, but I cannot say they will treat you as a guest. Now go. Save your brother from the misery of a cursed and undying life.

  Lisa nodded. “I will.” She took off, legs not propelling her forward fast enough. The Blind Boy watched her go, then turned his head as he felt another presence enter the woods.

  “Why are you following me?” asked Charlie. His eyes were fully red so that he could see where to safely jog in the marsh. Dräng panted as his little legs worked beside him. “You should go back.”