Charlie Sullivan and the Monster Hunters: The Varcolac's Diary

by D. C. McGannon

  The angry troll‌—‌the bone of his left arm severely exposed, chest and face blistered badly‌—‌lifted his great wooden cudgel and heaved it forward, where it flew head-over-end toward its antagonists.

  Nash and Lisa had dived aside immediately, but Darcy had not been so quick, having just shot another crossbow bolt into the six-armed monster.

  “DARCY!”

  Darcy looked up to see the cudgel flying straight for her. But it was too late. With a cry of fear, she turned and curled herself into a ball. There was a great crash as the wooden club splintered and broke around Darcy, flying past her in mangled pieces. Lisa and Nash stared, as did the angry troll.

  Darcy opened her eyes, realized she was alive, and stood up. She looked at the pieces of wood, better for nothing more than firewood now, and realized what had just happened.

  “That was‌…‌good,” she said, shaken.

  “How come she gets all the cool gifts?” asked Lisa.

  “Gifts!” cried Nash, inspired. “We have gifts!”

  He raised a foot and stomped. In the human world, Nash could stomp out a bolt of lightning. But here in the Otherworld, his gift was amplified, so it was not a single bolt that shot out from his foot, but an entire storm of electricity.

  Five raging, crackling bolts of pure energy danced with each other across the rise of the molehill, charring the nearer six-armed beast completely and flinging it backwards, electricity still sparking along its body. The troll was only grazed by the blast, but he was still flung backwards, unconscious at least.

  “Um, help?” Liev pleaded.

  Lisa, Nash, and Darcy looked to where Liev stood amid grenade-ridden patches of ground. Beyond him, a horde of strange and terrifying beasts approached.

  Charlie plunged his spear into the harpy for the sixth time, and the monstrous bird finally gave its dying breath and shuddered from horrible head to scaly toe before tumbling backwards into the water. Immediately, six pale rusalkas jumped out of the water, their pale-green eyes burning bright, and dragged the harpy down into the depths of the water.

  Charlie looked away before he could see what happened to the body next. He turned to see how his friends were doing and saw the army of monsters marching toward them. From now on, he decided to pay more attention to his gut feelings.

  “Come on,” he cried to the others, “this way!”

  Without questioning him, Darcy, Nash, and the twins all ran after Charlie, turning back every few moments to make sure the monsters were not on their heels.

  The Otherworld’s atmosphere let them run without breaking much of a sweat. They ran in retreat for a quarter of an hour. They had survived their first real encounter with the Dark Prince’s monsters, only to see the army awaiting them.

  Charlie knew the Monster Hunters would have to face that army, eventually. He had seen it in his dreams. For now, he just tried not to think of what else disturbed his dreams.

  The varcolac cursed by all the names of the old gods he could think of, crushing the wine glass in his hand into a wet, red, mound of dust. He saw from the eyes of select subjects as the fledgling Hunters had survived their first battle.

  But they had not won. Yet.

  He hastily commanded the gathering of monsters and beasts to let the young humans go. Perhaps they would go back home. Perhaps they would be foolish enough to try and cross the Otherworld by way of the Graveyard. Or maybe they would come up the long way of the island‌…‌past the Sagemistress….

  The varcolac quickly sent orders to his subjects, setting the trap.

  They ran along the other side of the Otherworld, back past the bridge, past the Basilisk Pit. They were not really paying attention to where they were going. Finally, only when their legs ached, they stopped.

  Looking around, they had no idea where they were. Darcy reached for her necklace.

  But there was no time for that. New lines of monsters closed in on three sides, with a river of water closing them off from behind. These were not simple groups of boggarts or giants, either. They were militant lines, chalk full of the Dark Prince’s minions.

  The Monster Hunters were completely outmatched here.

  Nash stomped once, twice‌…‌but the monsters were too far away, and too many. Charlie held his friend back, concerned about preserving Nash’s energy. Suddenly, an opportunity presented itself, which Charlie quickly shoved everyone toward. The boat was a trap, he knew‌—‌what else could it have been?‌—‌but the alternative was worse.

  There was a boat on the river, wide enough to ferry across maybe twenty people. It had the figurehead of a skull and was painted like a cold, empty death.

  They all jumped onto the boat and frantically searched for an oar.

  “A PAYMENT IS REQUIRED, FOR PASSAGE.”

  They all jumped, unnerved at the sound of that rasping, grating voice. A cloaked figure had materialized in the back of the boat. The others could not see his face, but Charlie could. He did not like what he saw under that hood.

  “PAYMENT, OR LEAVE.”

  Lisa shakily, but quickly, reached up to her right ear and removed her silver disc earring, and held a tentative hand out to give the ferryman his due. To their collective horror, the cloaked figure took the jewelry between two fingers of bone, and then reared back his head into the light. He placed the earring between his two skeletal jaws and swallowed before looking at Lisa. His eyes were empty sockets but for the faint glimmer of blue-gray fire.

  “THANK YOU.”

  The skeleton ferryman rowed them across the river, just as some of the monsters had begun to reach the riverbank. Once the beasts saw the fledglings were on board they turned and started to head for Blood Castle.

  It was an eerie ride across the waters, with a skeleton for a guide and Charlie staring into the waters like something was about to rise up and devour him. The five were very glad when the boat jerked to a stop on the bank of an island. Hastily, they each hurried to step ashore.

  “Where are we now?” Lisa asked, stretching her legs wearily.

  “Hold on, I’m trying to find out,” Darcy said, thumbing the sequence of colored gems on her necklace.

  “Um, where’d the boat go?” Nash asked.

  Sure enough, it was completely gone, like it had never been there in the first place.

  Liev looked over the water. “Creepy.”

  “I have to agree with you,” said Nash.

  “I have it,” said Darcy.

  They all turned to look at her. Darcy hesitated, staring at her map. Charlie nodded gravely, seeing the look on her face.

  “We’re right where he wants us,” he said.

  Darcy looked him in the eye. “We’re on Witch Island.”

  Chapter 10: A Witch’s Warning

  Nash looked immediately to the twins for their guidance.

  “That’s bad, isn’t it?”

  Liev and Lisa grimaced.

  “Well,” said Lisa, “it really depends. Witches can be dangerous‌—‌”

  “‌—‌deadly‌—‌” said Liev.

  “‌—‌but some aren’t very powerful. Let’s hope the one that lives here isn’t one of the stronger ones.”

  “The witch here is very strong,” said Charlie, seeing the magic that saturated the air. “And‌…‌I think there’s more than one witch.”

  They all looked warily at the woods covering the island.

  “Then yes,” said Liev. “It’s bad.”

  “Let’s circle the bank,” Charlie said. “Maybe we can find a way off this island without having to deal with anything‌…‌bad.”

  Even Darcy agreed this was a good idea‌—‌the least risky idea, anyway‌—‌and they all strode off along the curved shore of Witch Island.

  They did not get very far, though. Ahead, a line of trees overtook the ground, which had become higher and rockier. The tree line completely blocked their way around the island. Maybe the island had been designed like this; maybe you could not get anywhere without passing thro
ugh the spider webs.

  “I guess we go in anyway,” muttered Darcy. Charlie spared her one look before leading into the thicket.

  The ground was a mess. A thin layer of dirt mingled with rotten leaves, covering rocks and tree roots so that every so often someone would trip over the uneven floor. It was a frustrating journey.

  And when the whispering began, it became a terrifying journey.

  Many voices spoke amongst the dark trees‌—‌wretched voices and fair voices, voices soft, menacing, kind, and harsh, all of them barely audible. The five stared into the dark, looking for unseen faces.

  Were they being whispered to? Or perhaps whatever was out there whispered about them, or something completely irrelevant to them. They hoped it was irrelevant to them.

  But that hope was shattered as the five young Monster Hunters ventured farther, for the whisperings grew loud enough to hear.

  “She has the Amulet,” whispered one voice.

  Another one answered, “This one’s gift is….”

  While two seemed to say at the same time, “These two act as one, they are‌—‌”

  “Haha, look at this one!”

  Charlie was especially scared. For though he looked with his Sight, the witches remained unseen. It was the first time his gift had ever failed him. Shadows of fear and doubt seeped through his bloodstream, gripping his heart. Was he the wrong person to lead this group?

  Charlie shook his head, seeing a pale tendril of yellow magic reaching for him. It was the witches. They were planting doubt in his mind‌—‌he just knew it.

  “What weapons…? What gifts…?”

  “Fools, all of them, they will not‌—‌”

  “The Sagemistress says they might‌—‌”

  “‌—‌no, they are fools, you hear? Fools!”

  “Children, easy prey….”

  “No challenge, so disappointing‌—‌”

  “… tender, too, and tasty….”

  “Ah, look at this one, you see?”

  “Yes, we see him….”

  “He has the Sight, doesn’t‌—‌?”

  “Yes, the boy with the Sight….”

  “… the one the Prince wants….”

  “… their leader….”

  “He has led his friends astray.”

  Charlie began to run, as laughter faintly mingled with the whispering woods. It was a clear laughter, not like the other voices. He knew whose voice it was when the varcolac spoke in his mind.

  “Hello, boy.”

  He ran harder. His brow was sweating coldly, and his breath came in ragged gasps.

  “You failed to heed my warning, it seems. Have you figured it out yet, which of your friends will die that horrible, triple death? Would you like to know?”

  Charlie shook his head and clenched his eyes shut, immediately tripping over an upturned root. He crashed onto the ground…

  “There’s still time, boy. Just turn around, go home.”

  …soft, grassy ground.

  Charlie realized the voices had stopped. He opened his eyes and found he had just made it to the edge of a clearing. The others pulled him up and staggered forward a few paces to get away from the dark, mangled forest of horrors. They laughed with each other nervously, thinking they made another narrow escape.

  But then they saw the middle of the clearing. A large and crooked black house stood there, surrounded by a fence topped with flaming skulls. It took them a moment to realize the rest of the fence was made of bones, too.

  The front door opened, and a little old woman, hunched with age, stepped out. She took the porch steps carefully, causing the tea tray in her hand to tremble and rattle. From beneath her shawl, she looked at them with an electric blue eye‌—‌her right eye being blind. She looked at them and smiled, causing laugh lines to stretch over her crinkled face, revealing a mouth of pristine, straight teeth.

  “Welcome, children. I’ve been expecting you. Tea?”

  She held up the tray for them to see‌—‌full of tea cups, biscuits and sugar‌—‌and then began to set the tray down. Even though he knew she was a witch, Charlie worried she was senile and would drop it on the ground. But a black mist-like stream of magic flowed upwards, congealing into an intricate table right where she set the tray. Six chairs formed around the table in the same manner.

  And though Charlie could clearly see an air of magic about her, he did not see anything else. Unlike the boggarts, this old woman seemed to be exactly what she looked to be.

  Charlie looked at the tea.

  “No. We’re not here for tea.”

  “Sit, children. No harm will come to you.”

  “And we should trust you because…?” Darcy asked, hands on her hips. “No offense, but we don’t trust monsters, even if they’re dressed up like my grandma.”

  Something flashed across the witch’s face‌—‌irritation, yes, pride, yes, but it was more than just an emotion. Magic then? Charlie couldn’t put his finger on it.

  “Ah yes, the Huntress’ daughter. I can see her in you. It is a pity, what happened to your mother. You humans just keep throwing your lives away.”

  Darcy felt her legs begin to buckle. She fell backward, held up only by the twins.

  Charlie saw what the witch was doing to them. He tried to get a hold on the situation. “We don’t trust you, and we don’t have time for games‌—‌”

  “The Prince has requested that I turn you away from this fool’s errand peacefully, before more of us get hurt. That includes you humans. We will let you cross through the gateway without pursuing or attacking you.”

  “Can’t do that,” said Charlie. “You’ll come through the gateway and attack our town as soon as we’re gone.”

  “Yes and no. Hunter’s Grove will fall, but your families will be spared. Think what you might, but this is not a trick. I’m ready to swear by blood and magic.” A black dagger appeared in her hand, which she held to the skin of her left wrist.

  Charlie could see she was serious. If she swore an oath with magic, he was sure he could spot any sort of lie with his Sight.

  “I don’t get it. Why now?” he asked.

  “Your presence inconveniences him. You cannot survive this journey, although you can weaken his forces. Still, the Prince would rather you not kill so many of his ranks. Consider this a compromise.”

  “We know what he’s up to,” said Lisa. “We can’t let him resurrect the Ancients.”

  The witch laughed long and hard; it was a forced, lifeless laugh. Her face seemed to change again, almost like the ripple on a pond, and Charlie began to understand what he was seeing.

  “What you fail to understand,” said the witch, “is that the coming of the Ancients is inevitable. They will come. Whether now or later, by the Prince’s hand or by the hand of another. But if you turn back now, the Prince has offered to spare you, and to keep you safe while the Ancients take back the human world. It is a small price to pay for your lives. Each of your lives.”

  She looked at Charlie, sending a shiver up his spine. She knew. She knew about the thrice death.

  Was it true, he thought, that they could get out of this alive‌—‌all of them‌—‌alive?

  The others looked at each other. It was tempting. After all, they had to consider their families at home. If they failed, everyone else in Hunter’s Grove‌—‌and then the rest of the world‌—‌would die, consumed by the Dark Prince’s insatiable hunger and whatever horrors waited beyond him in the Ancients. However, if they accepted this offer some would at least be guaranteed to live.

  It was Nash, trembling, who spoke up first and cleared their senses. “So we act like cowards and you’ll let us live, while everyone else dies?”

  The witch’s face rippled again. “Did you not hear me, boy? The Ancients are coming and, when they arrive, your human world will fall. This is your only chance to survive under their rule.”

  The five shared glances that they understood easily. It was surprising how well t
hey had come to know each other, even now on the battlefield, with just a single look.

  “Sorry,” said Charlie. “But we’re not here for tea. We’re here to stop the Dark Prince.”

  The witch smiled, though it was not a very nice smile. “I thought so. Well then.”

  What happened then surprised them all, even Charlie. He should have been able to see the witch‌—‌really see her, for what she was‌—‌but her magic was strong and deceptive.

  The witch stood up, throwing the shawl from her shoulders. It evaporated in fire, along with the table, chairs, and everything on the tea tray. What stood before them now was not a small, fragile old woman, but a tall, frightening crone radiating with centuries of unnatural power. Her eyes, both of them electric blue now, glared with a look halfway between wisdom and utter madness.

  The Sagemistress pointed a long, taloned finger at them, and a line of witches marched forward from the trees. These were not the green-skinned, pointy-hatted characters Charlie and his friends had become used to in their childhood stories. These were warrior women wielding the powers hidden under that false sense of reality. They carried daggers and sickles, ready to end this fight here and now, on Witch Island.

  Darcy slung her crossbow forward, firing at the Sagemistress. It almost looked as if she had made the shot, but then they saw how the arrow floated in the air, directly in front of the Sagemistress’s forehead. The old witch smiled and plucked the arrow from the air. It turned to ash in her hand.

  Immediately, Lisa and Liev stepped forward, thinking as one.

  “I won’t be that easy to kill,” the Sagemistress said, looking at Darcy.

  “Who said anything about killing you?” shouted Lisa.

  The twins threw forward a net of white-black energy. It was the first time they used their gift in the Otherworld, and despite the distance, their net engulfed the Sagemistress. The witch screamed in fury.

  The entire island seemed to shudder as witches ran forward, daggers gleaming, sickles raised for the kill.