Moonshine Wizard

by Phillip Drayer Duncan

  When they returned to Carter’s office most of the other wizards took off. Bert hung around and visited with Arthur while he waited to get paid. Carter made him wait a while. It was to be expected, but he didn’t care. He had bills to pay.

  As far as information was concerned, it seemed the local Hand was a dead end. But once he had cash in hand, he used Arthur’s desk phone to call Falcon’s cell.

  “Sup dawg?” Falcon replied.

  “Any chance the Beast is fixed?”

  “Sure is. You going to bring the van back?”

  “Um,” Bert said, realizing he hadn’t told Falcon about the wreck. “You might want to report it stolen.”

  “Was it stolen?”

  “Sort of. It’s not on another planet,” Bert said, then added, “sorry, man.”

  Falcon laughed. “Hey, no sweat. Why do you think I gave you the crappiest rig in the fleet?”

  “Right,” Bert replied. “Hey, would you do me a favor and not tell Farrah?”

  He laughed and said, “We’ll see. I’m closing up the shop. I’ll leave the Beast on the street with the keys under the seat. Hope it doesn’t get stolen.”

  “Thanks,” Bert replied. “I’m heading that way now.”

  Bert told Arthur thanks and headed for the door. The big man grunted a reply, his face buried once more in his book.

  When he hit the street, Bert was surprised to find it was already dark. Time flies when you’re having so much fun. Whatever, he thought, the day had been a bust anyway. He just wanted to go home, and hoped Lilith was still there.

  He walked down the sidewalk and merged onto one of the more populated Eureka Springs streets. It wasn’t the town’s busiest time of year, but there were still tourists milling around. Several of the bars were packed and music drifted out into the street.

  “Bert, I think we’re being followed,” Sharp said.

  The sword could be a real jerk, but Bert trusted him. Sharp always had his back.

  “All right, I’ll cross the street. Let me know if they follow.”

  He stepped across the street and kept walking.

  “Yup, we’re being followed.”

  “Damn. Okay, what does he look like?”

  “Well, he looks like a guy.”

  “Really? That’s the best you can do?”

  “What do you want from me? He’s wearing a brown jacket, glasses, and has his face covered.”

  “Very helpful.”

  “Well, he looks just like the guy down the street in front of you.”

  Bert glanced up and saw a guy matching the description a few paces down the street. He looked like a character from an old black and white detective movie. Bert couldn’t make out a single distinguishing feature behind the trench coat, hat, and shades.

  “Damn,” Sharp said. “Two of them. I bet there’s more.”

  “Wow, thanks for the positivity, buddy.”

  Bert turned to cross again, but came up short when he saw another identical man watching him from the other side of the street. This one was reading a newspaper, but, as if to assure him he matched the other two, he lowered it so Bert could see the hat and sunglasses.

  He was surrounded.

  “Told you,” Sharp said. “Weirdos in trench coats always come in packs.”

  “Can this day really get worse?” Bert asked.

  “Yup,” Sharp replied. “They’re all walking toward you now.”

  Sharp was right. They were closing in on him.

  Bert turned around again and saw there was a dark alley beside him. It was either fight in the busy street or head into the darkness.

  “You do realize that’s a trap, right?” Sharp asked.

  Bert didn’t bother responding. Of course it was a trap. They were practically herding him toward it. But in the alley there was less chance of a civilian getting hurt when the fighting started. Besides, he was getting used to having the odds stacked against him.

  He stepped into the alley and ran. It was dark, and he couldn’t see the other side yet, but he could still hear the low hum of bar music and a cat hissing somewhere up ahead. In the low light, he saw a dumpster and decided to use it for cover. It was likely the best option he’d find.

  Poking his head out, he glanced back and was surprised he couldn’t see the busy street he’d come from. He couldn’t see anything. Just blackness. It wasn’t that dark out, and he hadn’t run far. Surely he should be able to see the streetlights.

  “What the hell is going on?” he asked Sharp.

  Sharp didn’t answer. A strange feeling washed over him, like he was dreaming. Like he could just lie down, and this would all be over. As though he would wake up in a few hours and find himself comfortably snuggled in his blankets. His eyelids drooped. The hard pavement seemed soft and his knees felt weak.

  His mind reeled. Something wasn’t right. Taking the only logical course of action, he slapped the piss out of himself. It did the trick. The sleepiness dissipated and he realized he was leaning against the dumpster. Forcing his feet to hold his weight, he drew his staff and tried to convince himself he was ready for anything.

  Ready for anything except creepy laughter. Unquestionably the creepiest laugh he’d ever heard. It tore through the darkness and filled the alley like a stench. His stomach tightened in knots, and if he’d eaten recently, he’d have vomited. It was a sickening sound that couldn’t be human. It made the hair on the back of his neck rise and sent shivers pulsing down his spine. And it didn’t seem to come from one direction, but everywhere, all at once. Or maybe, he thought, it’s inside my own head.

  He did his best to ignore it and looked forward again. The alley in front of him grew darker. Like a living thing, the blackness crawled toward him.

  “Dammit, Sharp! Can you hear me?”

  Again, there was no response. He turned and sprinted down the alley. Still the darkness grew. He felt it gaining on him, like it was about to swallow him whole. The bar music was gone now, along with the hissing cats. He couldn’t even hear his feet as they pounded the pavement.

  What terrified him most, though, was the fact he couldn’t sense the magic being used. The magnitude of this spell was beyond anything he could dream of conjuring. He should’ve been able feel the magic energy at work all around him, but he couldn’t. Not only was the spell next level, but the caster was able to block him from even sensing the magic at work. As Sharp would’ve pointed out, if Bert could’ve communicated with him, he was totally screwed.

  As the darkness enveloped him he tried to call a magical light to his staff as Carter had done in the cave. Nothing happened.

  Blindly, he barreled forward. It didn’t matter. He had to keep moving. Had to escape the darkness before whoever was behind it caught up.

  From somewhere he thought he caught the faintest whisper of his name. He thought it was his imagination until he heard it again, and replied, “Yes?”

  The response was barely audible, but he knew the voice. It was Sharp.

  “Why can’t I hear you?”

  “This is big, Bert,” Sharp said, his voice a little clearer. “Whoever is behind this is more powerful than you can possibly imagine. You need to run, and don’t stop for anything.”

  Taking Sharp’s word at face value, he ran like he’d never run before.

  Then the ground was no longer beneath him and he fell. Time froze as he prepared for a rough landing. He expected broken bones and a lot of pain. Instead, his feet landed on something soft that sank in, then shot him up back up like a spring.

  Laughter rang through his head again and he immediately summoned a protection spell.

  Still flying, he said, “What the hell, Sharp?”

  Sharp screamed back, “I don’t know!”

  Still expecting a rough landing, he forced as much energy into the defensive spell as he could, creating a magic bubble around himself that would attempt to push away from any object near him. It wasn’t strong enough to push the ground away, but it’d softened the blow w
hen he landed.

  Amazingly, he landed on his feet in and dropped into a low crouch. Still shrouded in darkness, he reached down and felt the ground beneath him. It felt like concrete, but wet. Strange.

  He dropped the magical bubble and water hit him from all sides, leaving him submerged. He swam toward the top, clawing for the surface. He needed air.

  When his head broke the surface, he gasped, sucking in a deep breath as laughter echoed through his head once more.

  Then he heard a door open and a man’s voice yelled, “Hey! What the hell are you doing? Get out of my pool!

  A swimming pool. Of course. He should’ve known from the chlorine burning his eyes.

  Bert swam toward the side and started pulling himself out.

  “Damn porch light is out again! You better get the hell out of here! I’m calling the po–”

  The man’s words were cut off in a blood-curdling scream. Over the screams, there was the distinct sound of bones snapping and flesh being torn.

  He pulled himself out of the pool and started toward the noise, dripping wet but ready to kick someone’s teeth in. But the sounds ceased.

  There was a thud, presumably the man’s body hitting the ground.

  Bert struggled against a shiver, telling himself he was just cold and wet, not afraid. Who was he kidding? He was scared senseless. Pissed too, but terror was the prevailing emotion for the moment. And then there was light. Bright searing light, blinding him. He put his hand over his face as his eyes slowly adjusted. It wasn’t that bright after all. In fact, Bert realized, it was just the porch light the man had mentioned. Apparently, he’d been a victim to the darkness as well.

  And something much worse. The man’s body, or rather, what was left of it, lay on the ground near the door. Bert had seen his share of dead bodies, but nothing quite like this.

  It looked like the man had been chewed up and spit out. Like a lion’s chew toy. Just a bloody carcass with very little skin, save what hung in bloody strips. His stomach was lacerated from end to end, intestines dangling out and dripping blood on the ground. His face was the worst, though. It looked like his skin had been peeled away, leaving ragged tendons and muscle pumping blood out. One eye was missing, but the other hung from the socket and dangled against his cheek.

  “I can’t believe you got me wet,” Sharp said.

  Bert gave a slight jump, unprepared for Sharp’s voice to be back to its normal volume.

  “Seriously,” the sword continued, “I’m like a priceless antiquity. I better not rust.”

  “Are you seeing this?” Bert asked.

  “The dead guy?”

  “What kind of monster could do that?”

  “You mean metaphorically? Or do you actually expect me to give you a list?”

  Bert ignored him and turned around, surveying the area. It was a fairly small backyard surrounded by a privacy fence. Beside him was the swimming pool and behind it was the trampoline, which apparently he’d landed on, explaining the bounce. The backyard ended at a sheer rock wall that ascended twenty feet or so. And that, he assumed, is what he’d fallen from. In Eureka Springs, a lot of houses were built on the side of hills, and having a cliff behind your house wasn’t uncommon, especially in the downtown area.

  He let his eyes drift around the yard once more and realized that beyond the privacy fence, in every direction, was absolute darkness. And he still couldn’t hear the bar music or any other sound. The darkness flowed around the fence as though it were a living thing, everywhere except by the gate. As if it were a sign reading, ‘right this way, dumb ass.’ That was where they wanted him to go.

  The smart thing would be to run. To jump the fence and plow through the darkness. Maybe he could break through. Maybe he could get away. But as his eyes drew to the corpse again, he knew he wouldn’t run.

  As if reading his thoughts, Sharp said, “You aren’t seriously going to walk through there, right?”

  Bert didn’t reply. He knew there was no hope of defeating whatever foe had laid this trap, but, he was still alive, and maybe, just maybe, they didn’t want him dead. Why go to all this trouble just to kill him? If he could find out who, or what, was behind this, he could report to Uncle Tony, or even Carter if he had to.

  “I can’t walk away,” Bert said, not sure who he was trying to convince. “Look what they did to that man.”

  “So, instead you want to add your corpse to the collection? Think, jackass!”

  “I am.” He pointed at the man. “I’m thinking this guy was brutally murdered so someone could scare me. Well, they got their big ole wish. I am scared, but with a side of extremely pissed off.”

  “You’re right,” Sharp said. “They killed him to scare you. And you should be scared. Whoever is waiting on the other side of that gate is more powerful than your fat little piggy brain can fathom.”

  “Well, if that’s the case, there’s no escaping anyway, right?”

  “And I don’t guess you thought about trying to run? Trying to get out from under the net they have over you, and then, I don’t know, call for help?”

  “Net?” Bert asked. “What are you talking about?”

  Sharp sighed. “Sorry, I forget I’m working with a child who doesn’t do his homework. They have a net over you. You can’t call for help, and even if you were capable, you can’t teleport. You’re cut off.”

  “Well, how big is the net?”

  “Big. Almost a mile in every direction. This is ridiculous. No one, and I mean no one, should be using this type of magic against you. No offense, but you just went from Jr. High football to playing quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys, or, maybe like, an actual good NFL Team.”

  “There’s no way I’d make it a mile before they caught me. Any better ideas?”

  “Do more cardio?”

  “We’re going through the gate,” Bert said, gripping his staff.

  “All right, then,” Sharp said with feigned enthusiasm. “Let’s gut these bastards.”

  Bert was almost to the gate when he heard a wet, throaty growl behind him.

  “Uh, oh wow,” Sharp said. “Hey, um, you might want to turn around.”

  In fact, Bert was pretty sure he didn’t want to turn around. He complied anyway.

  The corpse was moving. Not just moving, but getting to its feet. Bones cracked and tendons popped as it rose, but it did rise. Blood and bits of flesh dripped from its body. Its intestines dragged on the ground between its legs. The dangling eye seemed to be staring at him as it opened its mouth in a wide grin, displaying a row of razor sharp teeth.

  “Um, Sharp,” Bert said, “what in all of the fucks?”

  “Uh, yeah,” Sharp replied. “It looks a bit hungry.”

  “What the hell is it?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Well, can we kill it?”

  “I...I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “I mean, it looks pretty damn dead already.”

  “Dead things don’t just...” Bert waved his arms, trying to find the words. “He’s too animated to be dead. Unless he’s a zombie. Are zombies real? Kill them with a headshot, right?”

  “Zombies don’t grow razor sharp teeth. Name one zombie flick where that happens.”

  “Well, I don’t know this shit. You’re supposed to be the expert!”

  The creature charged. Even with its intestines dangling behind it, it moved incredibly fast.

  Bert dove out of its path and decided it probably wasn’t a zombie. He’d never seen a zombie, and in truth, he couldn’t remember if he’d learned about them in wizard school, or if he was just pulling info from the movies he’d seen, but they were usually depicted as being slow.

  He jumped clear as it dove for him again. It crashed through the wooden fence instead, throwing up a shower of debris and disappearing into the darkness beyond.

  “You know, I think I’ve got it,” Sharp said, a little too smugly for Bert’s taste.

  Be
fore he could ask, the creature reappeared, bounded over the fence, and tried to pounce him again. It howled like a rabid dog, blood flying from the corners of its mouth.

  Bert fired a force spell directly into its face, sending it backward, tumbling end over end. It hit the concrete with a wet smack. As it tried to rise one arm snapped at the elbow, bending backward at the joint. Howling again, it snapped the arm back in place.

  “Okay, well, that’s a handy trick,” Bert said. “What the hell is it, Sharp?”

  “It’s a blood ghoul!” he said, and this time his enthusiasm wasn’t fake. “How cool is that?”

  “A what?”

  “Wow. I really wish you’d study once in a while.”

  “That’s what I have you for. Are you going to answer the question?”

  The creature was back to its feet, glaring at him hungrily.

  “You know, now that I think about it,” Sharp said, “we should probably leave.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that’s a freaking blood ghoul! And don’t worry about the dead guy. There probably wasn’t a man at all. Just an illusion. So, let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “So, blood ghouls are bad?”

  “Yes, Bert, blood ghouls are bad. Kind of neat seeing one and all, but in case you didn’t notice, it shrugged off your attack like it was nothing.”

  “I know. I was hoping you’d come up with a better plan.”

  “I just did. I told you to run.”

  “That’s an option I’m taking under careful consideration,” Bert said, watching the blood ghoul. It hadn’t attacked again, but was just staring at him. “In the meantime, why don’t you tell me what this thing is capable of?”

  “Well for starters, it’s capable of ripping off your obnoxious head.”

  “Well, that’s pretty obvious.”

  “Bert, these things are really powerful, and almost indestructible.”

  “So, someone reanimated a corpse and turned it into this thing?”

  “You don’t reanimate a corpse and turn it into a blood ghoul. They are living creatures you damn, dumb, ignorant bastard.”

  Bert stared at the blood ghoul. “That thing is alive?”

  “Yeah, they feed on flesh. If they get a regular supply they look more human, but when it’s starved, like this one, they start falling apart, lose intelligence, and get mean as hell. The question you should be asking is, who the hell is powerful enough to keep one of these as a pet?”