Dark Hallows II: Tales from the Witching Hour

by Mark Parker

  “Dude, I don’t know,” Tyler snapped. Shit. How was it so late already?

  “I was just asking. What’s up your butt anyway? You’ve been in a bad mood all week. Is it because of Chemistry? Don’t mind Mr. Murdock, he’s—”

  “It’s not because of that old buffoon.” Tyler looked down the hallway, toward his bedroom door. Muerte’s absence continued to make his stomach turn. He’d spent hours painting and repainting the Osorno demon. His dad must’ve taken it to prove a point.

  “Then it’s something—”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Tyler turned his attention back to the living room. “You sure it’s that late?”

  “Positive.”

  Outside the bay window, a white light pulsated, bringing the dark sky to life. A low rumble followed, shaking his mom’s wind chimes with a tinkle. The branches of the oak tree on the front lawn bowed with a sudden gust of wind, taking with it the faded oranges and reds of the autumn leaves.

  “And in a bit of odd news perfect for this Halloween night, Greg Dawson, CEO of DarkStorms Entertainment, the company behind the multi-million dollar video game enterprise known as Netherlands, was arrested earlier today in his Silicon Valley home, in connection with a bizarre string of animal sacrifices that were apparently tied to rituals that other members of Silicon Valley’s elite…” Rob Boblin, Channel 11’s graying newscaster, said as the screen flipped to a video of Greg Dawson—clad in a black suit, sunglasses, and hair slicked back into a ponytail—being escorted out of his mansion, a gothic-styled home with two brick towers built into the façade.

  “What? Ain’t no way.” Jared jumped off the couch, spilling the remnants of his popcorn across the hardwood floor.

  “Be careful,” Tyler said, knowing his parents would kill him if they found popcorn grease on the floor.

  “Man, I’m sorry. It’s just this,” Jared whined, immediately falling to his knees to scoop up the snack.

  “Animal sacrifice and rituals? Can you believe it? I mean, the guy is creepy and all.” Tyler watched as the officers led Dawson, whose face adorned a blank expression, to their police cruiser. A sudden smirk crossed Dawson’s lips as he disappeared into the backseat.

  Tyler had to admit part of him was intrigued at the news.

  “Actually, I can kind of believe it. I read his autobiography and watch his YouTube channel. Guy is bizarre. He talks about the occult and these witches and old pagan things. Mom hates it when I watch it. Have to wait for her to go to sleep.”

  “Why do you think he did it?” Tyler remained transfixed on the screen as the police cruiser drove off, the broadcast ending in a basketball graphic as the goofy sports reporter appeared.

  “How am I supposed to know that?” Jared huffed as he stood up, clutching the popcorn bowl and pulling down on his Goblin Army t-shirt. “He’s just rich and weird.”

  “You looked at his YouTube channel. Was it some kind of demon ritual? Kind of ironic that he did it tonight of all nights,” Tyler said, finding himself intrigued by the news. Another flash of lightning illuminated the cul-de-sac, once again outlining the skeletal tree.

  “I already told you, just goofy stuff about Satan and Lucifer and all. Stuff you shouldn’t mess with,” Jared’s voice trailed off slightly. “Don’t tell me you really want to know about it.”

  “The guy’s a genius. He’s made a lot of money with the game. Just curious if you think there’s more to it.”

  “No. He’s just a sicko. Lots of sickos are rich.” Jared flipped the channels until an overplayed horror movie captured his attention. It was the same one they watched year after year, the one with the resurrected pirate demon. “Let’s just ignore all that.”

  “Ain’t no ignoring what we just saw. I want to know more,” Tyler insisted, picking up the remote and turning off the television as the walls shook from another bout of thunder. “Something tells me you know more.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Jared threw up his arms and slapped them back down at his sides.

  “No, I’m not.” He stared into Jared’s eyes, taking two steps toward his best friend. His mind wandered elsewhere, somewhere he never felt before. “Tell me.”

  “You’re acting weird…”

  “No, I’m not.” The depths of his imagination manifested with anger. “I just don’t like it when my best friend lies to me.”

  “I’m not lying. Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

  “Tell me—or leave.” His arms tingled, the hair on his forearms standing on end.

  “You’re obsessed.”

  “Screw you.” Without another thought, Tyler shoved Jared’s bird chest, causing him to fall to the floor with a thud. Jared whimpered as he clutched his arms. Tyler’s anger subsided as his muscles relaxed.

  “Asshole,” Jared said, still holding his elbow, while struggling to his feet. His face turned to a scowl. The two had been friends since kindergarten. Sure there’d been fights, but this felt different to Tyler.

  “Dude, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” Tyler said, remembering the one time he saved Jared from Nick’s scorn.

  “It hurts.” Jared pulled his arm closer to his body, keeping his head down, almost ashamed of his presence. His elbow had already swelled to the size of a golf ball. “I think I need to get to the doctor.”

  “Listen, I’ll get some ice. Then we can play some Netherlands or—”

  “No, I’m just going to go home.” Without another word, Jared headed for the front door, not bothering to look back at his friend.

  “Bye...” Guilt set in as Tyler watched Jared disappear into the coming storm.

  ***

  “It’s got to be around here somewhere.” Tyler shuffled through his army of demonic figures, searching for Muerte. He’d already been through the collection once since Jared left, looking under his dresser, bed, and computer desk. The practice seemed a little more morbid considering Dawson’s arrest, the images haunting him as he studied each figure, reciting their stats, special attacks, and uses.

  “It’s not freaking here!” Tyler plopped onto his computer chair, his tail sinking deep into the almost non-existent cushion. He buried his face in his hands and leaned forward. Like earlier in the evening, his demon army stared at him, mocking his efforts. Somehow, each twisted face appeared more diabolical than he last remembered. “Damn it, Dad.”

  Just as he uttered his father’s name, his smartphone lit up with a vibration, revealing the word “Dad” on the screen. Tyler immediately jumped at the chance to solve the mystery.

  “Dad?” He asked, feeling a slight hint of relief, knowing his parents were on the other end.

  “Ty-Ty,” his mom’s words slurred through a cloud of static.

  “Mom?”

  “Yes…honey. I’m here.”

  “Where’s Dad? I have to ask him…”

  “Dad’s driving, honey. We’re heading…there soon. Bad...with lightning.” His mother’s voice continued to cut in and out, not that she would make sense anyway.

  “Can I talk to Dad?”

  Another boom of thunder, this one loud enough to rattle the dining room’s chandelier down the hallway, shook the house. Then there was nothing.

  “Damn it.”

  Tyler attempted to call back several times, each time receiving a dial tone for his efforts. For once, he actually wanted his father home, or even for Jared to have stayed, which reminded Tyler he needed to find out how he was doing. He knew damned well Jared’s parents wouldn’t take him to the hospital this late, not with his little brother and sister at home.

  He spun on his chair and stared at his computer’s blank screen, brushing his pinky finger along the mouse to awaken his monitor. The Netherlands welcome screen popped on, complete with the window of his clan’s chat list. He recognized a couple names, but none he regularly accompanied.

  Then there was Darren, who always seemed to be logged on.

  “Good to have you back!” Darren’s voice spoke through the computer’s speakers
. “Care to join us?”

  “What?” Tyler whispered to himself, remembering that he’d turned off both his headset’s microphone and the computer speakers. He formed the habit after his dad yelled at him for waking him up several times during work nights.

  “I said, care to join us,” Darren’s monotone voice—deader than usual—answered.

  “Where?” Tyler looked out his bedroom window, hoping to see his parents’ familiar headlights barreling down the cul-de-sac.

  “I’m on the Plains. I found a way to beat the invasion.” Darren’s words immediately dissipated the fear creeping into Tyler’s subconscious. He forgot about Muerte, Jared, and his parents. Maybe Darren had a use after all.

  “How?” Tyler placed on his headset and rolled his chair closer to the computer desk.

  “Meet me by the Red Oak. I have some items I can give to you, but know that it’s going to require a sacrifice.”

  “Sure, sure,” he answered without thinking of the words.

  ***

  Tyler’s electronic journey to the symbolic Red Oak—the marker for the entrance to the Midnight Plains—took a short time from his respawn point. He made sure to spend the last of his paltry gold on healing potions before venturing out. And, as he expected, much of the online chatter revolved around Dawson and his arrest.

  Tyler attempted to query about what’d happened. He received answers ranging from Dawson being a Satan worshipper to using it as a promotional tool for the launch of The Witching Hour expansion—which had completely escaped Tyler’s mind. Most people didn’t seem to care, rather, focusing their attention on gathering to open the portal at midnight.

  Tyler looked at his digital clock as he spotted the tip of the Red Oak. 1:30 a.m. Late.

  “Where are you guys?” He muttered, looking out the window again in hopes of seeing his parents drive up. The windowpane welcomed his attention by rattling with a gust of wind. Dark clouds rolled forward, expanding outward like Jared’s popcorn, capturing the energy of the unseasonable lightning storm.

  “Over here,” Darren said, pulling Tyler’s attention back to the screen.

  “Where?” he asked, as he spotted a lone figure—an unrecognizable race—standing beneath the glowing amber leaves of the Red Oak. “That you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought you were an orc?”

  “You made it faster than I would’ve imagined, even for a devout player like yourself.” Darren skipped over Tyler’s question.

  As Tyler approached Darren’s new character, he realized he’d seen the race before. He immediately looked down at The Witching Hour expansion box and spied the tall, gaunt features of the creature painted on the front of the box. A slight pinch of jealousy caused Tyler to wince. He’d wanted to be the first.

  “Wait, how did you become a Nether Creature already?”

  “I was resurrected in the darkness.”

  “How?”

  “By my resurrection, of course.”

  “No, that’s not what I mean. The expansion doesn’t go live for another hour. How did you pull that off?”

  “Jared’s online.” Again, Darren ignored the question.

  “What?”

  “He’s online. I’m sure he’s already made it halfway across the Plains, but I fear he’s too weak, not devoted enough to the cause, unlike yourself.”

  “How? I don’t see his name.” Tyler scrolled through the clan list. Sure enough, Jared’s name popped up. “I knew it. Hey, Jared.” Tyler half-yelled into the microphone, only to see a cross icon next to Jared’s name. Jared had muted him. “Son of a bitch.”

  “You’re going to need more powerful magic if you intend to succeed tonight.”

  “Like what?” He made a mental note to yell at Jared the next time he saw him.

  “Blood magic.”

  “Blood magic? But I’m not a high enough level.”

  “Not if you are willing to sacrifice…”

  “Sacrifice? Like what?”

  “Your loved ones. Those who you cherish the most will be able to give you blood magic.”

  “Dude, you’re sounding weird.”

  “Then you won’t be necessary. We won’t go.”

  “No, no, no. I want to go!”

  “Then maybe we could start with Jared? If we catch up to him, perhaps, we can sacrifice him?”

  “Are you serious?” Tyler crossed his arms, thinking of the proposition. “He’s going to be pissed if I loot his character.”

  “It’s the only way to be granted blood magic and open the portal.”

  “Sure, whatever, fine. He’ll just respawn.”

  “Oh, no, this is quite permanent.” Darren laughed. “They can’t come back from this. No one will.”

  “You know…whatever. I hate the fact that he’s a thief, always sneaking around in the shadows, while we do all the work. Maybe he can come back as a new race with the expansion. It’s a weird night anyway, with what happened to Dawson and all.”

  “Yes, he was indeed the first to cross over, the first to realize the sacrifice.”

  “Whatever you say, boss,” Tyler answered, dismissing Darren’s ramblings as par for the course.

  ***

  With the help of Darren’s Nether Creature, the two advanced farther across the Midnight Plains than their entire party had throughout the entire week, slicing through barbarians and two villages Tyler had never encountered before. He had to admit, the graphics were phenomenal, almost lifelike, and the towns were eerily familiar.

  He made sure his Osorno demon drank enough blood to prepare for whatever blood magic Darren talked about during their journey, which was in itself weird.

  Darren proved a fount of knowledge about Dawson, even down to knowing Dawson’s graduation year. Through the flurry of mouse-clicks and manufactured computer screams, Darren sounded like a zealot of Dawson, praising the video game creator’s efforts to open up a new way of thinking through the Netherlands. He claimed it would help humans “evolve” into a greater species—and opening the “portals” through the game, would usher in a new era for humankind.

  Tyler dismissed the monotone explanation as nonsense, too intent on watching his Osorno demon gain strength as the two sacked the next human town, killing off most of its inhabitants. He was engrossed with the new towns, his attention pulling away from the computer screen only when the lightning storm outside flashed again, or the wind howled, snapping a tree branch outside his bedroom window.

  They climbed a hill where a pulsating red portal extended across the horizon and throughout the forlorn landscape, revealing a foreign land that Tyler did not know. Other players gathered to their left and right, waiting for The Witching Hour’s grand reveal.

  “We’re here,” Darren said, his tone slightly escalated, as if he’d run down the stairs on Christmas morning.

  “We are?” Tyler rubbed his eyes clear of sleep and looked over at his smartphone. 3:00 a.m. How is it already three o’clock? Where’s Mom and Dad? He chugged his second energy drink of the night, wondering why it wasn’t working.

  “It’s open…It’s time.” Darren’s Nether Creature extended its branch-like arm toward the foot of the hill, where a gathering of stone homes flickered with candlelight.

  “That’s right!” Tyler shouted, remembering the 3 o’clock launch. His parents’ whereabouts and his need for sleep were suddenly a distant memory.

  The streetlight outside Tyler’s window sparked with a flash of electricity, and then faded to black, sending their entire cul-de-sac into total darkness. One by one, his neighbor’s homes mirrored the streetlamp’s fate, until the entire street was eclipsed by the Halloween night.

  With a click and sputter, the rumble of an engine vibrated to life across from Tyler’s house. Fortunately they had a generator. There would be no loss of power once he fired it up.

  A smile of satisfaction crept across his face, knowing that all of his friends at school would be far behind in the expansion because of the power outa
ge.

  “Are you prepared?” Darren’s robotic voice asked.

  “You’re damned straight I am.”

  “We need to find Tyler’s thief. He’s hiding in the town somewhere.” Darren’s character started down the hill, where some of the stone houses went dark.

  “Wait…wait…” a hint of uncertainty crept into Tyler’s voice.

  “What is it!?” Darren growled.

  “Are you sure we have to kill him, I mean his character? He’s worked pretty hard for it. He’s at Level 26, you know.”

  “Then you are unwilling? What fun would that be?”

  “I mean, can I still become a Nether Beast?”

  “Not without sacrifice. Dawson would have it so.”

  “Dawson…” Tyler muttered. “Ok. Sure. Fine. He already said he doesn’t need that annoying thief. Maybe he’ll create a better character next time.”

  “Good, then follow me.” Darren’s Nether Beast took off like a hyena, bounding down the side of the hill, along with the other eager characters who’d ventured across the Midnight Plains, their reward to be the first to explore the heralded Witching Hour expansion.

  The demon horde spread throughout the dirt roads of the unnamed town, overpowering the wayward humans who’d found themselves a target of evil’s onslaught. They, too, would become Nether Beasts—at least according to Darren, because of their sacrifices.

  “Down, this way!” Darren instructed, flying through an alleyway that led to another part of town the other characters had yet to plunder. Again, the layout seemed somewhat familiar, but at 3:00 a.m. Tyler’s imagination had grown wild. “Tyler should be in there.” Darren’s beast pointed toward the house at the end of the dirt road. “How had he’d gotten to this part? Never mind...”

  The two characters approached the wooden doorway where the sounds of footsteps echoed through the computer’s speakers. Tyler was indeed inside. Maybe I should call and tease him? Tyler laughed to himself. Get him back for spilling popcorn and calling me obsessed.

  “Are you prepared?” Darren asked, his Nether Beast backing away from the door. “It should be locked. Use the blood magic I gave you to open it.”