Jack Dalton, Monster Hunter, The Complete Serial Series (1-10): The History of the Magical Division

by T S Paul

  Looking over my shoulder I could see the man screaming at his hired help and berating whom I assumed to be his wife and son. I looked back at the local. “Nope. Not my circus or my monkeys. Help me out here, please.”

  Oak, Ash, and Thorn. That was what I was told would protect me. I had a couple of twigs bound together with a sprig of blackberry vine and an old nail in my pocket. Cold forged iron was a sure thing. The rest, not so much. I just needed to remember to not shove my hand in my pocket.

  The meeting place was several miles inside Klamath Park, along the river. Not on any of the maps I’d been given, the spot could only have been found with local assistance. Johnson couldn’t have been a help for this.

  It was something like you’d see in a European forest, if you could find one untouched, or from Salisbury plain. A small circle of dolmens surrounded a stone altar. I wasn’t part of any of the earth-based religions that had sprung up in the years since the big reveal, but as an FBI agent I was aware of them. According to Bradshaw, I was to lay an offering and say a prayer to whichever deity I wished and one of the people would appear. He claimed he himself had never done this, but his familiarity belied his own words.

  Patting my pocket, I approached the stones. Looking closer at them, I was reminded of pictures I’d seen of Stonehenge. That very fact was impossible! Dolerite was a type of rock formed around volcanos, but not something commonly found in this part of the world. Unfortunately, that was the complete extent of my geology knowledge. How they got here, set up like this, was a mystery to me.

  I laid an apple on the altar. Unable to decide who to pray to, I sent good thoughts towards the old man I kept running into. He was either a figment of my imagination or some sort of entity. Rocking back on my heels I looked around. “How long is this supposed to take?”

  “What is time to those who don’t age? You are but an acorn compared to an Oak,” a voice answered.

  Reverting back to my training, I used the corners of my eyes to search for glamours and hidden shields. The FBI might not have any magic users in it, but we did hire good consultants. Sensing rather than seeing someone to my right, I spun around to see a faint shimmer. “Even acorns can hurt if fired from the right gun. I know where you are now. Come out so we might talk.”

  “We don’t talk to humans. Your people are the destroyers,” the voice said from the opposite side of the clearing.

  “You’re speaking to me now,” I replied. “This won’t end now. You’ve taken it too far. Johnson will retaliate the only way he knows how. If you were trying to save the land, you’ve lost. Burning the house was the wrong move.”

  “Getting our point across is important,” the voice replied.

  “Only if the question is understood. His father started the project. Did you ask him to stop? The son was never told, if you did. You forget the shortness of our lives,” I explained. “If you are who I think you are, you won’t be able to fight him when he retaliates. Machines of iron will lay waste to the land and explosives will destroy it.”

  “This is our land and we are allowed to protect it!” A different, more forceful voice spoke close to me.

  Spinning around, I came face to face with who I assumed to be a Fae lord. Motioning to the forest and river, I spoke. “This is part of the United States now. You’ve had your chance for almost fifty years now to tell us about your people and ask for recognition. Why didn’t you?”

  “Who are you to dictate to me?” The elf pointed his finger at me. I expected to die right then and there. The mythical ‘elf shot’ was a doomsday type spell that had a 100% kill rate. My pants pocket warmed up suddenly and the amulet bag around my neck actually burned me.

  The elf gaped when I didn’t die.

  I’d forgotten about the old man’s charm, or it was the prayer I sent. The protection I seemed to be getting wasn’t going to make me start worshiping the one-eyed God any time soon either. I did appreciate it though and if given the chance would thank him. “Now you’ve attacked a government official. I’m actually trying to help you here. Answer me this. Are your people behind the Bigfoot vandalism? That’s my mission. To find the truth.”

  Jharak Forestbuilder waved his hand, canceling the now failed curse. “Argh! Human magick. I sense a God around you as well. The truth? You wouldn’t know the truth if it bit you. You humans will believe anything. Create belief in the unknown and you fall for it so easily.”

  I smiled at that. “Not if you step away from the myth itself. Opening gas caps and using sugar betrays the myth you’ve created. The Indians here won’t take the blame for the house. Not after the fire marshal writes his report.”

  Jharak snorted, “He won’t blame us. The people here wouldn’t dare.”

  “No, he won’t. But he knows the truth and it will come out eventually. Secrets are like that. Nothing stays hidden forever. I convinced him to call it faulty wiring or something similar. It won’t stop Johnson, though. He really does want a hunting lodge and resort built here, and he doesn’t care about the reservation or state park boundaries to do so. Unless you harm him directly…” I looked the Fae in the eyes. “Don’t plan on it. It’s my job to police you. If I have to level the forest for miles around, I will.”

  I gave the elf a speculative look, then asked, “What are you protecting so much?”

  “We came here before there was anything. Our job is to protect. This is a sanctuary for our people,” he replied.

  “Underhill or other?” I asked.

  Jharak’s eyes narrowed. “You know much for a human. Look past the altar and unfocus your eyes.”

  Doing as I was told, a city came into view. Above or below the ground, it was spectacular. Architecture beyond what man can even imagine. They did indeed have something to protect. If you ever dreamed of visiting Oz this might have been what you’d see. Glass towers that seemed to reach the sky joined with plants and trees not seen by humans, ever. Paradise on Earth.

  “So you see, then,” he said.

  “Contact your embassy and have them make a deal. Forget about your act of silence and whatever rules you feel you need to enforce. Johnson has far too much leverage in Washington for you to stand up directly against him. He doesn’t control me, but he could. Go to the president directly if you have to. He has the power to circumvent Congress through executive order. The Magical Act of 1957 gives you plenty of power. You just need to act upon it. If, and I do mean if, I tell Johnson of your people’s existence, he will do his damnedest to destroy you. He is a vengeful man,” I explained. “Dying for principal is stupid.”

  “Why help us?” the Elf asked.

  “It’s my job. Yes, I hunt monsters for a living. But I’m also supposed to coordinate with the paranormal communities. I might be one man but I’ve the entire government behind me,” I answered.

  The Fae lord shook his head. “You need to learn to lie better. Come see us in a century, if you still live. We will teach you.”

  In an instant the Elf faded from my view. Searching the area, I couldn’t find a single shimmer or trace that they’d even been there. Not even a footprint, big or otherwise.

  “Did we make a deal or what?” I asked into the forest. Utter silence was my answer. “Damn elves, I swear they’re worse than Vampires.”

  Hiking back to my van, I ran through the entire conversation. The notes I had on the Fae said they were tricksters, but I think they were being incredibly frank with me. It made me wonder just what was in that city of theirs that was so important. Whipping out my journal, I wrote down everything I could remember. It would help with my official report as well. Writing my reports and trying to explain the craziness of them took longer, much longer.

  For the entire drive back to the Johnson place, I considered my options. If they did go through channels, then I should try and slow down the doctor on my end here. Even though he held the high ground politically, I could report his mining and logging infractions with the Department of the Interior. Any report I made would add to the file
as documented infractions. It would help in the future. Without the Faes’ aid, though, I would be fighting an uphill battle all by myself.

  Things had changed since I had been gone. There was now a shiny new airstream trailer parked on the site, along with a bulldozer and work crew. Johnson himself stepped out just as I pulled in.

  “Hey! Did you talk to the tribe elders?” Johnson asked.

  I frowned. “Elders?” When I’d left, the man was red with anger and swearing up a storm.

  “Sure. You were going to spread the word about the hooligans that burned down the house. Had they seen them at all? Sheriff Mays and the fire marshal told me it was definitely arson. Who knew that escaped prisoners from Sacramento were hiding up here?”

  I felt myself blink a couple of times. What was happening here? “So no more Bigfoot?”

  “That old legend? Only out-of-towners believe that,” Johnson replied.

  I first rubbed my eyes, then my forehead. Somehow in the time it took me to drive from the meeting place to here they’d altered the good doctor’s memory completely. Did they now wish a treaty?

  “Do you still plan to build the lodge your father dreamed of?” I asked him.

  Johnson frowned at me. “That old plan? No way the Parks department would let me do it. How’d you find out about that?”

  I muttered a nonsensical reply about a rumor I’d heard that placated him. “Do you think the convicts were the source of the other vandalism as well?”

  “That’s what the sheriff thinks. I guess we didn’t need you after all, Agent Dalton. Sorry you made the trip up here.” Johnson shook my hand, dismissing me.

  What just happened? I asked myself that as I sat watching a bulldozer clear the house site. If the Fae could twist someone’s memory so much, why hadn’t they done so before? What was the purpose of dragging it out so long and letting it go so far? All I could think about was something one of my Academy professors had once said. Paranormal cultures might as well be alien, as much as we understand them. He meant humans, but I got the big picture. Even though I was raised by Wolves, partially, I didn’t completely understand them. Maybe you just had to be born that way.

  “Should I ask why?” Cenulf asked his lord.

  “No. Our Seers held the answer I searched for. This man is important and his ‘solving’ our problem is, as well. Erasing the matter should’ve been done in the beginning.” Jharak held up his hand to stop Cenulf’s protest. “’Twas done in my father’s time. It’s done. The humans will remember what they need to as will this Jack person. Are our people in place?”

  Cenulf bowed before his lord. “Of course. He won’t leave the valley with his memory intact.”

  “Warn your team. He is in possession of a very powerful amulet. They won’t be able to touch him physically,” Jharak commented.

  “They will accomplish the task or not return,” Cenulf stated.

  “It will have to do, then.” Jharak looked out at the river near the place of the meeting. “I have betrayed my father’s memory and contacted our brethren to the east. Promises will be made and treaties respected because of this.”

  Cenulf stayed silent. It wasn’t his place to correct or comment on what his lord was saying.

  None of what the Fae cared about bothered me. As far as I could tell, there was no Bigfoot and the Fae issue was solved. It was a huge question as to why bother in the first place if they had the power to just alter everyone’s memories like that. Why wait so long?

  Looking ahead of me, I could see brake lights. The tiny bit of traffic around me was slowing as I came upon a massive tree across the road and road maintenance chopping it up. Rolling down my window, I questioned the officer who approached.

  “Will this take long?” I asked.

  “Not that long. You’ll hardly remember a thing,” the blue clad officer replied. The sun was so bright it sparkled off the shiny buttons and badge of his uniform.

  “You’d be surprised…” I started to say.

  “…surprised.” I said. Blinking a few times, I looked out the front windshield. “Why am I on the side of the road?”

  Glancing up at the rearview mirror, I couldn’t see any traffic behind me. “What was I thinking about?”

  I looked at the map beside me and could see the route traced out in red, but it didn’t register why I was on it. Flipping up the center console lid, I looked at the safe contained inside. It appeared to be locked. My report and diary should be inside there. I always wrote in triplicate, filed the copies and put the original under lock and key.

  Spinning the dials, I opened it up and gave my journal a read.

  I might not remember it all, but the highlights were in my report. No one but Anastasia would see it, though. Stuff like this was why my job existed, after all. I checked my mirrors, put the van in gear, and pulled out onto the highway. There was a large FBI contingent in Seattle. I would head up there to file this. Something this hot couldn’t be trusted to the main office in California. Way too political and way too cutthroat, if my notes were to be believed.

  More than a thousand feet above me, up on a hill, a shaggy form stepped out of the dense woods. The creature’s soft brown eyes watched me as I researched my missing memory. Wiser than most living creatures walking the Earth, it missed very little. The Fae’s game was tedious at best and maybe it was time for the Elder Brothers to up their own game and break some rules. The so-called Paranormals needed to be brought to heel, regardless. Using Magick not seen for millennia, the creature transported himself to the hidden realm known as the World Species Council.

  The time of seclusion was over.

  Jack Dalton, Monster Hunter

  Book 9

  Untitled

  My name is Jack Dalton and I’m a Monster Hunter!

  “Jack, I need you in Washington as soon as humanly possible,” Anastasia informed me over the secure line.

  I was in San Francisco at the main FBI headquarters, wrapping up my reports. Every large office in America had a secure line to the Director’s office. They had to. As the country grew, so did the criminal element. J. Edgar Hoover liked to be on top of things at all times.

  “What’s going on there?” I asked her.

  “Trouble. Our investigative units responded to a series of deaths in and around the DC beltway area. We’ve got a serial killer on our hands here, and everything points to a Vampire doing it,” Anastasia explained.

  “How many Vamps are in your area, anyway?” She was the only one I’d ever met, outside of the guy at the Academy. He was supposedly the go-to guy for Paranormal interactions.

  There was a long moment of silence on the other end of the phone. “Two that I’m aware of, counting myself. Jack, you have to understand something here. Other than the Director, no one knows I’m a Vampire.”

  Now that explained a whole lot. In this country, Vampires were a rarity. Eastern Europe and Russia were their primary haunts, especially after the great Purge. If she wasn’t known…“Boss, that makes you one of the primary suspects.”

  “You think I don’t know that? The Director is on my side, but this is Washington. Backstabbing is almost an Olympic sport here. The Magical Division must be here to run the investigation if it is a Vampire. Get here as soon as you can,” Anastasia directed even as she hung up the phone.

  I stared at the receiver in my hand. It could turn into a Witch hunt if Ana was suspected of the crimes. And it would signal the death knell for any other Paranormals in government service. I needed to get moving.

  Finishing up my reports, I pulled out all the maps. From here, the fastest way east was Highway 50. Up through Sacramento and across Nevada, the highway followed the old horse and wagon trails. Not a lot of towns between here and Denver, Colorado. But if I was going to get there fast, it would have to do. For a moment, I considered catching a flight, but I’d have to leave the van here in California. I seriously doubted the guys at the semi-secret garage would build me another one so soon. Drive it was.
r />   Hunting Bigfoot had been a bust. Other than footprints and rumors I’d found nothing. It was too bad that Johnson’s house burned down, but faulty wiring will do that. Sitting in the file room, I tapped my finger to my lips. Something about the report in front of me wasn’t quite right though. Notes that I didn’t write were in my journal saying I did find something up there. But I had nothing to prove it. No pictures, notebooks, interviews, or anything other than the same reports saying there was no proof of Bigfoot or other creatures.

  “Screw it. I need to go.” I scrawled my name at the bottom and dropped the file in the outgoing mail. Copies would be distributed to the office here and in Washington, per procedure.

  Highway 50 was a nice scenic sort of road. Once I got through Sacramento and into the Eldorado National Forest, the traffic thinned out considerably. Looking at all the trees, it was really hard to believe that just a couple hundred miles to the South lay what the locals called the Demon Wasteland. Grinding the Demon advance to a halt… the army had held that from Salinas, to Fresno, to just outside of Las Vegas. Our world and the Demon Wasteland were the antitheses of each other. Anything the Demons touched was despoiled. Trees, cities, people, everything, were turned into mutated or twisted forms of themselves. Much of the area, even now, almost fifteen years later, was still under martial law. Fortunately, no one had seen a living Demon in about that long.

  Kachunk! Kachunk! Rumble, rumble, rumble. Kachunk!

  “…the hell?” Glancing down at my gauges told me absolutely nothing. The noises continued but weren’t as loud as before. Reaching out, I patted the dashboard of my trusty delivery van. “That’s a good girl. Please hold on so I can get you fixed.”

  I checked my mirrors and slowed down to a crawl while I checked the map. Stopping wasn’t an option; it might not start up again! I’d passed a place called Eureka, and it was too far back to return to. The towns of Ruth and Ely looked too far away to push the engine. I was screwed. Folding the map a couple of times, I scanned it for anything that might help me. A ranger station, military post, Indian reservation, something. Moving my thumb, I spotted something. Belmont Mill. A tiny speck on the map, it looked to be just a bit south of my position. Speeding up, I looked for a turn off or sign for one.