“I’d like a hot cocoa,” Charlie said, breaking the ice.
“One for me, as well,” said Nash, who was really just there for the food.
Tavern took their orders and put some distance between him and the group by running to the kitchen. No one prodded Darcy for clearer insight as to what had happened last night, or how exactly she had gotten the necklace.
Drinks came out and they each sipped their preferred beverages silently. The table was round, forcing them to look at each other, which was a bit uncomfortable. They had snuck into dark forests together, they had trained to hunt monsters together, and they’d even faced Darcy’s father together, but being friends was still something of a new, strange concept.
Nash grunted, nodding his head toward something. A dark scowl was brewing across his face. The others turned to see what he was so upset about.
Donnie Wickles walked toward them, hands shoved in his pockets.
“Uh, hi. Can I sit?”
“No,” said Nash.
“What do you want?” asked Darcy, a bit roughly.
“I just want to talk. And to say…that I’m sorry. Can I sit?” he asked again.
They exchanged glances with each other before settling on Charlie, who blushed at having the other four staring at him. What did they expect him to do?
Then Charlie remembered what Loch had told him…about how the others looked to him.
“Sure,” said Charlie. He fiddled with his napkin, uncomfortable about how the others were suddenly more at ease with Donnie’s presence.
Donnie grabbed a chair from the next table and spun it around to sit.
“I’ve noticed how you guys hang out a lot lately.”
“I wouldn’t say a lot,” said Darcy. “Maybe just the past week or so.”
“And I saw how you all went up to Hunter’s Key.”
They stiffened.
“So?” asked Lisa. She narrowed her eyes, trying intimidation.
“I don’t want trouble,” Donnie said, lifting his hands. “I just…you know my uncle went missing. You know, when it started happening. His name was Robert. Uncle Rob.”
Charlie looked at the others and leaned forward. “Yeah, we know.”
“I thought he was crazy. Uncle Rob was always talking about old ghost stories and monsters. I thought he just wandered off one day and…. It wasn’t right, talking down about him, and the other people who’ve…”
He looked between Darcy and Nash.
“I’m sorry.”
Darcy lifted her chin, trying to act disinterested. In truth, she was trying not to cry.
“That’s all you came here for?” she asked.
“No,” said Donnie. “I know what you’re trying to do. And I want to help.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Liev, before Lisa nudged him.
“My uncle…before he was taken, he told me stories about monsters, and the people who dealt with monsters. He told me how some of those people had powers. Like I said, I saw you go up to Hunter’s Key.”
He looked pointedly at Darcy, and then they all understood. He had seen her use her gift.
Four pairs of eyes looked accusingly at Darcy.
“I just want to help you guys. It sounds like fun, and maybe a way to fix what I’ve done wrong.”
“Fun?” asked Charlie. He shuddered at the months of terrors haunting him every night. “So you’re not afraid to die.”
Donnie faltered. “Well, n-no, of course not. I mean, we’d all jump in front of a bullet, right?”
“And you’re not afraid to fail?” Charlie continued. “You’re not afraid that if you lose—if you mess up and get killed—that all the people who are left behind would suffer, because you failed?”
Donnie looked at the five faces, their solemn expressions, tinged with sadness. They looked older, more mature than the classmates he knew.
“I don’t know what all you’ve seen us do, but apparently you don’t have the full picture. This isn’t fun anymore, Donnie. You want to help? Go home. Stop pushing people around at school. And pray that we don’t fail, and that maybe we’ll come back alive.”
Taken aback, Donnie stood—and kept standing for a moment. Were they really afraid of dying? Was it really that bad?
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, okay.”
Donnie turned and, with a final look over his shoulder, walked out of the restaurant to school.
The waitress, Mary, came over and loaded their table with five breakfast plates fit for a feast. A feast eaten in silence as Charlie’s words hit home.
Ghostly shapes drifted through the air and over the water, wailing in their peculiar way as they left the shore of Banshee’s Stay to cross to the Otherworld’s mainland.
On the opposite side of the Otherworld, a horde of cats skulked out of the steamy Boggart’s Marsh.
Near Blood Castle, pale rusalkas ran for the filthy moat to join their Grandfather Bilibin—the wodnik—lurching on long legs, greenish hair flying behind them. They dove in the water before their hair could dry. A host of flaming, green eyes peered out of the watery muck.
In the Graveyard, the Spirit Tree stretched and creaked, rustling in the absence of wind.
Howls filled with angst drifted from the Wolf’s Lair, pensive and bloodthirsty, spreading across the entirety of the Otherworld, inciting eager and disturbing chuckles from the darkness of Demon’s Gorge.
Inside his black castle, the Dark Prince felt their anticipation, watched their excited movements across the Otherworld.
He sat back in his throne and waited.
He was ready.
Loch was expecting them. His car sat idling on Frederickson Street, purring impatiently.
The drive up was somber, quiet. They were already nervous, and Loch’s silence wasn’t helping. No one spoke. In fact, only when they had entered the War Room—Loch’s secret study—did Loch turn to look at them. He opened his mouth to speak, a worried expression on his face—until he spotted the necklace Darcy wore.
“What?” she pressed, seeing his brow furrowed.
“I take it that necklace belonged to your mother. Didn’t it?”
“Yeah. She, um, she was a Monster Hunter.”
“Oh, I know. The Key was her post. It’s just…your mother had a very good reputation, but I never knew she had a Ward Amulet.”
“What’s a Ward Omelet?” asked Nash. His mind was still on food.
Lisa rolled her eyes. “Amulet.”
“Not just any amulet,” said Loch. “There are very few Ward Amulets that exist in the world, each crafted with certain magic properties.”
Darcy was infused with excitement. “So you can tell me how to use it?” she said.
Loch frowned. “No. I’ve never seen a Ward Amulet, Darcy, only read stories about them. I’m sorry, but that’s a riddle you have to solve by yourself.”
Noticing her dejected demeanor, Loch patted her on the shoulder.
“Loch,” Charlie said, remembering how somber the old man had been on the way up, “is something wrong?”
“I’m afraid something is wrong. Yesterday that little scab escaped, and he stole the varcolac’s diary.”
The room went cold as each took in what Loch had just said. That diary, they knew, was key to the varcolac’s plan. If the Chief of Assistants—Dräng—had escaped with it, they had lost an advantage.
“What’s worse,” he continued, “something came through the gateway last night. It was one of the Greater monsters, an erkling. Luckily, I saw it before it saw me.”
“You killed it?” asked Lisa. She and Liev were the only ones who knew what an erkling was, so they were impressed.
“Naturally. But that’s not the point. Point is, some of the Greater can now come through.”
Charlie understood. “So you’re saying we need to go soon. Like, today.”
Loch stood there for a second, mouth open, before h
e shut it and nodded. It felt wrong, sending them into the Otherworld when there was so much left to teach them. But there was no other way.
“I’m ready,” said Darcy. It shocked everyone, even though they had all expected it after the night before. Each and every one of them had spent last night as their chance to say goodbye, but it was hard to take the next step.
Liev looked at his feet, uncharacteristically serious. “I’m ready, too.”
Lisa nodded once after her brother.
Nash patted Charlie on the back, who looked at Loch.
“It’s okay,” said Charlie. “We can do this.”
Loch turned away for a second, pretending to look at the door to his security room. Really, he was hiding his guilt at not being able to take care of this himself. This was his job, not theirs. And their chances of coming back were slim.
He turned back to them. “Not yet, you’re not. The Otherworld is dangerous. You’ll need better ways to defend yourself. Follow me.”
He took them to a far wall, previously unnoticed. It had been transformed since yesterday. Now it held several racks—running floor to ceiling, standing close together—full of weapons.
“You’ve been busy,” Liev remarked.
“I’ve been working on this since last night,” said Loch. “Take your pick. But don’t go hog wild with it! Take too much and you’ll weigh yourself down.”
Eagerly, they examined spears, swords, crossbows, clubs, and daggers. There were other items, odd contraptions like a strange potato-gun, homemade grenades, and modified, unstable-looking firearms—Loch’s shotgun not included.
The weapons all looked very rustic, all handcrafted. Each was crafted to fit a Hunter’s needs—made of monster slaying materials like silver, iron, and special types of wood, with the occasional strip of duct tape. Odd weapons, for odd targets.
Loch noticed the way the teens stumbled awkwardly over the weapons.
“I, uh…don’t suppose any of you have had weapons training. Ever been out to a shooting range? Taken fencing lessons, at the very least?”
They looked at him like he was wearing meatloaf.
Didn’t kids play with dangerous things anymore? This lot looked afraid to attack butter with a branding iron.
Loch sighed and started pointing at the different items.
“Each of you should take at least one dagger. They are small and lightweight. Still, I’d take a longer weapon like a sword or spear. For you girls, I’d suggest a foil. They’re lighter than swords….”
Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying we’re weak?”
Loch glared at her. He picked up one of the homemade grenades. “And each of you should take some of these. Just be careful, they can be dangerous.”
“So glad you let us know that,” Lisa said.
“But not like you think,” he said, ignoring her. “They aren’t made for human warfare. These are filled with bits of iron, salt, silver, and garlic—some generic Monster Hunter staples. Still, I wouldn’t stand next to one after you pull the pin.”
Nash and Liev raised their eyebrows with obvious interest.
“A Jack-of-All-Trades in Hunter weapons, huh?” Liev remarked.
“Aye, you could say that. And this goes with it.”
He picked up an old-timey gun—a grenade launcher with a barrel that looked like a bronze trumpet. Something that might have travelled from the 18th Century, complete with flintlock and all.
“I like it,” Liev said with his most mischievous grin.
“I thought you would,” Loch said, grinning himself. He showed Liev how to load it, how to cock it and gave him a few tips on aiming.
Nash felt left out—it was the only grenade launcher—but Loch had something special in mind for him. He heaved one of the potato guns up. A thick, hose-like tube was attached to it, running to a bulky black vest that Loch put on.
“Nash, m’boy. Take a look at this. We call it the Salt Machine Ultrageous Grapeshot Gun. S.M.U.G.G. for short.” He giggled to himself; indeed, he snorted.
The group of young Hunters watched their mentor with concern.
“If anybody carries this into the Otherworld,” he said seriously to Nash, “it should be you.”
Darcy wrinkled her nose. “S.M.U.G.G. That sounds like something old people would come up with. Wait, did you come up with it?”
Loch glared back. “When you’ve fought monsters decade after decade, you’ll appreciate a sense of madness, too.”
Holding the S.M.U.G.G., Loch spun to face the other side of the room where a stack of old chairs stood. From the vest he took a canister the size of a salt shaker, which contained deadly salt grapeshot, and loaded it into a chamber on top of the gun. Then he pressed a button on the front of the vest and the tube tightened, emitting the hiss of air pressure building, and pulled the trigger.
THOOSH! BUD-aa-BUD-aa-BUDadadadada…
From the top down, the stack of chairs exploded in a cloud of salt and splinters.
“See?” Loch yelled over S.M.U.G.G.’s racket. “Simple! Load, aim, fire! Now if the boys upstairs could learn to make them a little smaller!”
“And quieter!” Liev added helpfully.
Loch punched the on/off button on the vest and the S.M.U.G.G. whirred down happily. He held the Weapon of Chair Destruction out to Nash, who took it gladly, immediately buckling on the vest and swinging the barrel around experimentally.
Lisa and Darcy each took a crossbow, more accurate than the boys’ firearms, but not terribly difficult to master. They listened as Loch gave instructions on how to load, aim, and fire.
Charlie examined the weapon racks, which held cultural items from all over the world. Only one thing caught his eye.
It was the spear from the East Garage. It was thin, but made of sturdy wood. The head was silver, and a ball of iron had been welded on for the bottom.
“All of these nice weapons,” said Loch from behind him, “and you choose that thing?”
“It was yours, wasn’t it?” asked Charlie.
“A long time ago, yes.”
Charlie nodded. “Then it’s good enough for me.”
Loch’s heart felt as if it would rupture. He patted Charlie on the shoulder and turned to the rest of the room to keep from getting too sentimental.
Finally, Loch felt satisfied they had the weapons they needed. It wasn’t enough—they weren’t enough—but it would have to do.
“Good,” he said, ignoring the doubt in his gut. “Everyone have a foil and a dagger? I don’t want anything that close to you, but anything can happen when dealing with monsters. It’s best you’re ready for as much.”
After that, they began the walk through Hunter’s Key. The walk was ceremonial, almost. Like a funeral march.
Eventually, they came to a short hallway with a cast iron door. Beyond it lay the backyard of the Key; the same garden they had seen from the Teeth Wing Tower. It was expansive, stretching out in a hallway-like passage. Well into the winter, it was dry and brittle; colorless, and hauntingly beautiful
Charlie saw it first, because he was looking for it. That small bridge, scuffed with peeling white paint, revealing the brown wood beneath.
There were heavy rivets in the wood at the foot of the bridge, as well as a dark brown stain. The ground leading up to the bridge had deep marks in it—claw marks dug all the way through the snow. Interestingly enough, a dragon-like gargoyle stood next to the bridge in a fierce battle position. Charlie did not remember seeing this gargoyle from the tower the other day. Had Loch moved it there since?
But something else commanded his immediate attention. It did not take long for his eyes to change to complete seas of red. Above the bridge, he saw what the others could not: The gateway. As before, it was a black light, shaped like mist. The pink energy containing it was only barely visible.
Their time was up indeed.
The bridge crossed over a slushy, half-frozen river, d
isappearing into the trees on the other side. The air seemed to grow colder the closer they got.
“I’m afraid this is where you go on without me,” Loch said.
Nobody had realized he had stopped walking, and now stood several paces behind them with his hands behind his back, a sad smile on his weathered face. “I wish you the best of luck, all of you. I wish I could go with you, or rather that you didn’t go at all—”
“It’s okay,” said Darcy. “We understand. None of us hold this against you.”
There was a unanimous nodding of heads.
In the last two days, all of them had come to respect the curmudgeonly old man. And they could see, despite his put-on grumpy demeanor, he cared about them, too.
Loch looked at the ground. Then he lurched forward, suddenly remembering the one thing he had forgotten to give them.
“Charlie, wait!”
“Yes?”
Loch pulled a small black box out of his jacket pocket. It was the same box he had locked in his desk drawer just days ago. He beckoned Charlie to come closely for a private conversation.
Loch passed the box to the boy. “Inside—don’t open it! Inside is a…mirror of sorts. A looking glass, if you will.”
“A mirror?”
“Yes….”
His voice grew quiet, and the others could not make out what was being said. Only when he stood up could they hear his last words, a bit of good news to their ears.
“With this, you’ll have an advantage the first Hunters didn’t. But whatever you do—and this goes for those blockhead friends of yours as well—you must not look at the mirror yourself! The mirror is facing the bottom of the box, just so you know. Do you understand what you have to do?”
Charlie nodded gravely. He could imagine well enough what would happen if he looked into the glass, and he did not need any more dissuasion than that.
“Good. Now off you all go. And God go with you!”
“What was that about? What did he give you?” asked Liev, forever intrigued with trinkets, gadgets and such.
“A way to stop the varcolac. But it’s dangerous,” warned Charlie. “Don’t worry about it, for now.”
Loch watched as Charlie Sullivan, Nash Stormstepper, Darcy Witherington, and Lisa and Liev Vadiknov stepped up to the bridge, side by side. They all exchanged glances before setting off across the bridge together. Crossing over the river, they walked proudly and with purpose.
Charlie Sullivan and the Monster Hunters: The Varcolac's Diary Page 15
