by J. C. Hanna
“This is Branna,” Amy explained. “She’s a thousand-year-old witch. Timmy no head, over there, is a vampire. But I’m guessing that you worked that out already. You know? From the whole face thing? Oh, and the teeth.”
Trisha tentatively nodded yes.
Amy turned to Branna.
“I assume he will not be the last?” Amy asked.
“No. There will be more. Many more. We should get out of here.”
As they moved to leave the shop, the body and head began to smoulder. Amy and Trisha looked at the smouldering corpse with mild alarm; Branna was entirely nonplussed by the smoke as it materialised; thinly at first, and then thick and menacing. The remains burst into flames. Within seconds the flames were gone.
“So, that really is a thing? I couldn’t be sure when we left the park,” Amy said.
Trisha looked hard at Branna.
“Wiccans kick ass,” Trisha said, excitedly.
They left the shop.
Chapter Thirty-six: Twenty-five Days Until Amy’s Death—Part Two
Amy, Branna and Trisha hurried along the busy sidewalk, away from the shop. When they got to the end of the block, Trisha suddenly stopped.
“What about the store?” she spat. “I didn’t lock-up.”
“What about not having your throat ripped out?” Amy retorted.
They quickly placed distance between them and the dead vampire. They stuck to the crowded streets. They eventually arrived at an outdoor basketball court not far from Amy’s apartment.
“What are we doing here?” Amy asked.
“The sun,” Branna said. “Low buildings and plenty of sunlight. We will be safe here, for now.”
“Why not go back to my apartment? Why don’t you just magic us to safety?”
“They will look for you there. They can move around in the shade. That’s how he got to the shop without bursting into flames. Your apartment building isn’t safe. They could be there already. Once inside, they can move about freely. I have been using magic all day, protecting you. I need a little time to recover.”
Branna walked off to the side of the court and she sat down on a bench. Amy and Trisha followed her. As the three girls perched on the bench in a moment of awkward silence, Trisha began to rub at her left forearm. Branna abruptly grabbed Trisha’s arm. The witch whipped back the sleeve of Trisha’s top. There were two puncture marks, but no blood.
“Hey!” Trisha protested.
“He bit you,” Branna remarked, solemnly.
“It was just a nip,” Trisha explained.
Branna let go of her arm.
“What is it?” Amy asked, uneasily.
Branna sighed, glumly.
“If they bite you and you drink their blood, you turn. If they just bite you, then you die, or… You can become something much worse than the creature that we just defeated.” Branna said. “It takes longer. Sometimes years. But you will turn.”
“Well don’t go sugar-coating it!” snapped Amy. “What could be worse?”
Amy stood up. She took hold of Trisha’s arm and inspected the wounds.
“Those that turn after drinking the blood of their sire fall under the influence of that demon. It instructs them how to blend in with humanity; how to feed, how to hunt, and how to control their base impulses. If they turn without drinking the blood, then that connection is never established. The creature that emerges is a pure demon. All influence, control, and humanity are gone. An uncontrollable killer that is stronger and harder to destroy than the others.”
“There has to be something that you can do,” Amy pleaded. “We have time?”
Branna shook her head. Trisha was more confused than frightened by the dire prognosis.
“Unless…,” Branna started. “Unless you are a witch. Are you a witch?”
Trisha’s face twisted with deep thought.
“I once tried casting a love spell. Does that count?” asked Trisha, hopefully.
“I’m afraid not. But it doesn’t matter,” Branna said. “It is too late. They are already here.”
As she finished speaking, the sun dipped below the surrounding buildings. It felt as if the entire city had fallen silent, in dreadful contemplation. From every approaching street and alleyway, figures streamed towards their position. Amy turned to run. She assumed that her companions were in the process of doing the same. As she did so she felt something warm and wet spray across her left hand. She slowly raised her hand and examined it. Blood covered her fingers. As she turned around her breathing quickened and the sound of her heart pounded inside her head. Trisha lay slumped on the ground. Branna stood over her body with a bloodied sword in her hand. Amy moved towards her friend.
“Run!” Branna screamed.
As she screamed, Branna’s face began to ripple and contort. Amy came to a juddering halt as Branna’s full vampire form took shape. Terrified, Amy turned and she began to run. Her legs weakened and her feet got tangled. She twisted her body awkwardly to protect herself from the fall. It was an overwhelmingly unsuccessful effort. Her head hit the clay with an unforgiving crack. The impact rendered her unconscious at once.
Several hours passed before Amy returned to the real world. She was lying where she fell. As the recollection of the moments leading up to her unconsciousness returned, she jumped to her feet. Branna had gone. Trisha’s body had gone. The vampires had gone. Amy cautiously moved to the place where Trisha had fallen. Under the poor lighting from the surrounding streetlights, she could just about make out a dark stain. It was real. Branna had killed her friend.
All thoughts of danger left her mind as she began to walk towards her apartment. When she reached her building, the corridors were empty—not uncommon, given the lateness of the hour. In a daze, she took the elevator to her floor. She sat down in front of the television. She regarded her friend’s blood on her hand with a deep sense of emptiness.
“It is time to leave,” Branna said, in a low, almost bashful tone.
She had appeared behind Amy from nowhere. Amy turned around slowly. She was not frightened. She was angry.
“I am not going anywhere with you. Murderer,” Amy hissed.
“She was already dead,” Branna said. “She was worse than dead.”
“She looked pretty alive to me; before you took your sword to her!”
“We do not have time for this. I will explain everything to you, soon. You will understand why I had to do it. I will show you why I had to do it.”
As she finished her statement, Branna paused for a moment, before moving towards Amy in a flash. She grabbed Amy by the shoulders. Amy felt the same sensation that she had experienced in Central Park on the night of the attack. A punch to the gut, and then the feeling of being wrenched backward, out of reality. Her body and mind went into a spiralling freefall.
Chapter Thirty-seven: Twenty-four Days Until Amy’s Death
Amy sucked in a long breath of warm, moist air. Her legs began to tremble, and then weaken, until they finally buckled. Halfway into a collapse, a jolt of adrenaline returned her strength, wits, and stability. She whipped her head from side to side as she grabbed wildly at the empty space around her. As her eyes quickly acclimatised, Amy realised that the darkness that had enveloped her was not a result of Branna’s magic—it was simply night-time.
The ground that she was standing on was uneven and hard. As she ventured a little to her left, and then backtracked to the right, the surface beneath her feet changed—short, dense, vegetation on either side of a plant-free, rocky surface. She was standing on a rough track that was on a slope. On either side of the track, there were pine trees—on one side the trees banked upwards, and they fell away sharply on the other side. She felt certain that she was standing on the side of a hill.
Amy jumped when a hand came down firmly onto her left shoulder.
“We have to go,” said Branna, in a whisper. “It isn’t far.”
“Where are we?” Amy asked. Her voice instinctively matched Branna’s quiet to
ne.
“Ireland,” Branna said, simply.
Branna removed her hand from Amy’s shoulder, and then she began to walk away from her. Amy burst forward to catch up with her. As if anticipating Amy’s questions, Branna laid out an explanation without being prompted. She continued to speak in a whisper.
“We are almost at the sanctuary. It is less than half a mile down the track.”
“I assume with all the hush, hush, that there is some danger between here and there? Vampires?”
“No. Much worse. Teenagers.”
“Huh?”
“There is a group of teenagers camping by the entrance to the sanctuary.”
“And? Can’t we just walk past them?”
“They don’t know that they are camping next to the gateway to the sanctuary. If we pass through to the other place in front of them, they will tell others.”
The short time that it took for them to walk to their destination gave Amy an opportunity to think. The magical trip from New York to Ireland had displaced the horror and anger that she had felt before being transported. Some of that anger began to return, but it was becalmed somewhat by the oddness and uncertainty of the moment.
“Maybe you can cut off their heads?” Amy hissed. “You are all about the easy answers.”
“If they are demon possessed murderers, then I might just do that.”
“And if they are innocent shop assistants, minding their own business?”
Branna stopped. Amy mirrored her movement.
“In a few minutes, you can get as angry as you like with me. When we are safely inside the sanctuary, I will explain everything to you. I will answer your every question. But for now, be quiet.”
Branna moved off, with Amy reluctantly trailing behind. By the side of the track, a short distance ahead of Amy and Branna, a small campfire burned brightly. Four youths sat around the fire. Amy was struck with confusion when Branna confidently approached the teenagers.
“So much for keeping a low-profile,” Amy murmured.
The group turned to Branna as she closed in on them. Two boys smiled widely as Branna approached. Two girls fixed stern expressions of suspicion and annoyance. Amy’s blood iced-up as Branna drew her sword. The youths got to their feet. The tallest of the boys continued to smile. He walked out from the group to greet Branna.
“Nice blade,” he chirped, in a lilting Irish accent. “What’s it from?”
“You will pack up your stuff and leave,” ordered Branna.
The boy continued to smile.
“Nice,” he said. “I love to roleplay.”
Branna expertly swung the blade through the air, bringing the steel to a stop a hair’s breadth from the boy’s neck. Amy rushed to Branna’s side.
“Is he..? You know? Bite, bite, bite?” Amy asked.
“No. He’s just a child in the wrong place. An irritating child, at that.”
The rest of the group joined their friend.
“Look, girls,” continued the youth. “It’s a nice night, and it’s a big forest. Why don’t you head on now and find yourself somewhere quiet to play with your sword?”
Branna whipped the blade away from the boy’s neck—it generated a high-pitched whistle as it moved. The blade arced through the air and came to a stop with the tip in the fire. With an expert flick of her wrist, the sword lifted a short piece of burning wood out of the flames. The sword moved again; much faster than before. The airborne piece of wood exploded into hundreds of smouldering splinters that showered the group of friends. They moved through instinct to shield themselves from the hot rain. As the last of the smouldering wood hit the ground, the talkative youth lunged at Branna. The sword moved as if it was a part of her, and it came to a sudden halt in front of the youth’s face.
“You crazy b..”, spluttered the youth.
“Witch,” Amy interrupted, through a forced smile. “She does like to stay in character.”
Amy took up a position between Branna and the youth. She moved the blade away from the boy’s face. Branna allowed Amy to guide the weapon with her delicate touch.
“This one is a bit mad,” Amy explained. “You best do as she says. I’m not saying that she will do anything as crazy as cutting your head off, but...”
Amy flashed a knowing look at Branna, before continuing.
“But if she gets too sword happy, I can’t rule out an accident.”
The boy stepped back.
“Come on,” he said, to the others. “This is getting weird. The old cottage isn’t that far.”
The group gathered their belongings with careless haste, before scuttling away from the swordswoman. They glanced back nervously from time to time as they headed back in the direction that Amy and Branna had travelled. Branna watched the group intently until they were nothing more than four shapeless blobs of grey in the distance. Finally, the group vanished into the darkness as they rounded a bend in the track.
Branna walked across to the fire. She held out an open hand above the flames—the fire instantly died. She closed her hand into a tight fist and then flicked it open—the cold fuel and enclosing rocks exploded with a gentle pop. No trace of the campfire remained. Although Amy was amazed by the display of magic, she dressed her face in an unimpressed mask.
“This entrance?” quizzed Amy.
Branna turned towards a flat, rocky surface next to them—the same rocky face that Rufus had stepped through more than 1500 years before.
“It’s behind that?” Amy asked.
“No,” Branna said. “That is the entrance. We will pass through it.”
Before Amy had time to probe further, Branna stepped forwards. The rock face shimmered as Branna vanished. Amy paused for a moment.
“And why not,” she said, with quiet resignation.
Amy cautiously walked forward. She instantly disappeared into the rock.
Chapter Thirty-eight: Amy’s Death—Part One
Every cell in Amy’s body tingled with pleasure as she passed through the magical barrier. An intense golden light surrounded her for the duration of the brief journey. She held her breath tightly until it finally exploded from her lungs as she appeared on the other side. The bright light from a rising westerly sun illuminated a vast paradise. From the point of elevation on which Amy stood, she looked out across a landscape of ancient dark green forests, wide rivers filled with cornflower blue water, and grassy, flower-speckled planes. She turned to Branna.
“Is this Heaven?” Amy asked, in a sincere whisper.
Branna smiled.
“Heaven on Earth, perhaps,” Branna answered.
The expression of wonderment on Amy’s face quickly gave way to one of confusion.
“The sunlight,” Amy said. “Why aren’t you… You know? Bursting into flames? You are a vampire; or did I imagine that?”
As if completely disinterested in her own question, Amy once again turned her gaze to the beauty stretched out before her. There was no aspect to what she was witnessing that did not please her—tranquility in its purest form pulsed through her body. The dark greens of the treetops and lush meadows; the deep blues of the sky, mountains, rivers and the sea. The complex perfume from a multitude of flowers that filled her nostrils. The warmth of the backward moving sun, tempered by a barely perceptible, cooling breeze.
“What is this place?” Amy asked.
“Some call it Arcadia. To others it is Eden. Or Avalon. I call it home,” Branna said, wistfully.
Amy returned her stare to the scene before her. Across a sea inlet, in the distance, stood a lonely mountain. It was black and crowned with an angry swirl of storm clouds. In an instant, all the good feelings left Amy. She pointed at the mountain as she turned to Branna.
“What’s that?” Amy asked.
“That is why you are here. When I first arrived in this place, it was completely dead. The evil that once covered this land was defeated and pushed back to that mountain. That evil has slowly regained strength. It is once again waging war, in th
is place, and in the other place; the world from where you came.
“The vampires?”
“They are merely the first wave. The foot soldiers of a large and terrible army. For thousands of years, we have been preparing for a battle against the darkness. The final battle.”
“End of the world, kind of deal?” Amy quizzed.
“Precisely. The battle has begun. In this place, and in your world.”
“I still don’t understand how I can be of any use in this battle. I can’t fight. I can’t do magic. I am missing all the skills needed for this rumble. I do sarcasm really well; but I’m guessing that won’t be enough?”
“Rufus will explain your role.”
“How about you explain it to me; now?”
Branna sighed.
“I could try to explain it to you, but you wouldn’t believe me. And to be perfectly honest, I don’t understand it myself. One thousand years have passed since I left your world to come here. Every time I think that I am beginning to comprehend this land, and what it truly represents, I find more questions to ask.”
“Totally helpful,” Amy said, with annoyance. “Well, the sooner we can have a sit down with Rufus, the sooner I will get some answers. Where is he? If I’m the big, I am, that you say I am, then I would have thought that he might have made the effort to meet with me when I arrived?”
“He is waiting for us in the town. The answers to your questions are there.”
“That simple…eh? Stroll on into town. No, enchanted forests? Psychotic vamps? Stinging nettles?”
Branna smiled warmly.
“None of the above,” Branna said. “Just a leisurely walk through some beautiful countryside, and then a short boat trip across a very scenic river. If you want mortal danger, you will not have long to wait. For now, enjoy what this place has to offer.”
