by Mac Flynn
The backpack at my head was hard, but softer than the ground and log. I leaned my head against that.
And that's when it squirmed.
CHAPTER 2
I let out an ear-piercing and body-piercing shriek and jumped to my feet. Everyone wasn't far behind. Marge stood and held out her already-lengthened claws.
"Come and get some!" she snarled.
Erik and Greg whipped their heads left and right. I pointed my finger at the bag.
"Something's in there!" I yelped.
Marge noticed where I pointed. She dropped her arms to her sides and glared at me. "That would be our food," she retorted.
"Something alive," I rephrased.
Erik frowned and stepped towards our bag. He reached out his fingers to touch the bag. Something shifted inside the bag and the whole thing toppled to the ground. Erik shoved me behind him and I saw his own hands transform into long, thin claws.
The bag shifted. We tensed. One of the flaps of a small pouch moved. A dark shape crawled out. I heard something click behind me and the beam of a flashlight illuminated the bag. Greg had snatched it from his own bag. The shadow stopped and blinked at us. We blinked back.
It was a bat.
"Remove the light," the bat demanded.
I furrowed my brow. Bats didn't talk, and that voice sounded familiar.
"Methuselah?" I guessed.
The bat stretched its body and changed into a black shadow. From the shadow emerged Methuselah in the pale, cold flesh.
Marge's eyes widened for a moment before they narrowed. She leaned down and growled at the undead.
"Vampire!" she snarled and made ready to jump.
I jumped between Marge and the vampire, and held out my arms. "Wait! He's with us!" I told her.
Marge whipped her head to me. "With you? A vampire's with nothing but their own kind."
"Nonetheless, he is with us," Erik insisted. "He assisted us in escaping Market Island."
I turned to Methuselah. "And we left you on Captain Black's boat. What are you doing here?"
"You left me nowhere," Methuselah argued. He brushed himself off and glanced down at the bag at his feet. "I procured passage in this bag and have followed behind you."
"How did you know to hide there?" Erik questioned him.
Methuselah smiled. It sent shivers down my spine. "Cassandra's son would not miss a chance for a more exciting adventure," he commented.
Erik raised an eyebrow. "You profess to know a great deal about my mother." His eyes flickered to Greg, but the servant didn't meet his gaze. "Some other time you must tell me how you became so fascinated with her. For now I would prefer you not hide near our foodstuff, or anywhere else where we do not know where you are."
"It was merely a matter of convenience. The sun would have burned me," Methuselah explained.
"A pity it didn't. . ." Marge muttered.
Methuselah ignored her and looked to me. "We made an agreement."
I blinked at him. "What agreement?"
Methuselah gestured to the night sky. "The day has tired me and I need sustenance."
I felt the color drain from my face. "Oh, that agreement."
"I also was a part of the agreement," Erik spoke up.
"And I," Greg chimed in.
Methuselah sneered at them. "I do not wish for your blood. Hers will do."
"Um, you won't take too much, will you?" I asked him.
"Enough to sustain me," he replied.
"So are we talking a quart or a pint?" I persisted.
Erik held his arm out between the vampire and me, and glared at Methuselah. "If you demand the blood of my house than surely I will do. My mother's blood runs through my veins."
Methuselah looked Erik up and down with narrowed eyes. "But you are soft and filled with the disease that curses this land, while she-" he nodded at me, "-she holds your blood, but in a pure state. I wish to know such blood before her time on the islands ruins the sweet flavor."
I noticed Erik's arm shook and his eyes narrowed. "Are you implying that I-"
"You have nothing to do with what I speak, boy," Methuselah snapped. "Your touching her does not taint her."
Erik frowned. "Then to what are you speaking?"
"I am speaking of the fog and its ill-effects," Methuselah explained.
"The fog protects us," Erik argued.
"If that is all you know then you know nothing," the vampire commented. Methuselah seated himself on our log and righted our bag.
Erik swept up to him and stood over our 'guest.' "If I am so ignorant than enlighten me."
"Master, we have precious little time remaining to rest," Greg spoke up.
"Time enough for something as important as this," Methuselah countered. He turned his attention to Erik and searched his face. "You know the fog protects your people, but the curse of barrenness of female progeny that smothers your lines is connected to the fog."
"I know of this," Erik argued. "The curse was in retaliation for a lack of payment."
"Then you know that the barrenness extends beyond your bodies to your land?" Methuselah questioned him.
Erik started back and blinked at the vampire. "To our lands?"
"What are you jabbering about?" Marge spoke up.
"I am speaking of the ruin that eats your souls and your bodies," Methuselah replied. "It is the same ruin that destroys your fish, your fields, and your lineages."
Marge snorted. "What a bunch of hogwash. There's no curse over them, just some bad years."
Methuselah chuckled. "You doubt a curse on your islands when you are cursed with a barrenness of women?" Marge frowned, but didn't argue.
"How are you so sure this is true?" Erik asked him.
"Because I have seen more years than you can comprehend, and I recognize a curse when it exists," Methuselah insisted.
I held up my hands. "Wait a sec. You said the fog and the barren curse were connected, right?"
"That is correct," he concurred.
"So if Blackwood changes one then will he change the other?" I guessed.
"Yes."
"So if he, say, expands the boundaries of the fog, does that mean that wherever the fog will go the land will die?" I persisted.
"Yes."
I looked to Erik. "I think our problem just got bigger."
"And more imperative that we travel onward this night," Erik agreed. He snatched the bag and swung it over his shoulders. His eyes flickered to Methuselah. "Do you know these woods?"
Methuselah shook his head. "Two centuries ago, perhaps, but not this day."
"Then stay at our rear and listen for trouble," Erik commanded him.
Methuselah frowned and stood. "I have followed you to be entertained, not ordered."
"I won't be of much amusement if I'm dead, so I recommend you protect our rear flank this night," Erik insisted. He turned to Greg. "Lead on."
"I will go no further without sustenance," Methuselah refused.
"Then you will go no further. We will regroup on our return back to the boat," Erik replied.
I barely saw Methuselah jump at me, but Erik wasn't caught so unaware. He pulled me behind him and swiped at Methuselah. The vampire leapt backwards away from my mate's claws and landed a few yards back. He stood in a crouched position and snarled at Erik.
"You made an agreement, son of Cassandra," Methuselah snarled. "Keep to it."
Erik held up his arm and sliced through it with the clawed fingers of his other hand. Blood flowed from the wound and dripped down his arm onto the ground.
"Master!" Greg yelled.
"What the hell are you doing?" Marge snapped.
"You'd better not get an infection," I scolded him.
Methuselah straightened and grinned. "At least Cassandra taught you some self-sacrifice."
Erik didn't get a chance to reply before Methuselah leapt forward and grabbed Erik's arm. He sank his fangs deep into Erik's wound. Erik started back, but Methuselah wrapped one of his arms aroun
d my mate and kept him near. The blood flow down his arm ceased. Every instinct told me to jump at them and separate the pair, but there was something mesmerizing about watching the feeding.
Also, it only lasted a few seconds. Methuselah lifted his head and showed off his blood-stained lips. He released Erik who stumbled back. Greg and I rushed forward and caught him before he fell.
Methuselah slipped his tongue out and caught a few loose drops of blood on his lips. His lips curled back in a sneer. "Ruined," he commented.
"Because of the fog?" I guessed.
"Yes." He used the back of his hand to wipe the remainder of the blood from his lips and fling the droplets to the ground.
Erik steadied himself on his legs and waved us away. His narrowed eyes turned to Methuselah. "Why are you so concerned with our destruction? What does a vampire care if a clan of werewolves vanishes from the earth?"
Methuselah dropped his arm and tilted his head back so he looked down his long nose at us. "I am not the monster you take me for, boy."
"Then do you know how to break this curse you profess to know so much about?" Erik questioned him.
Methuselah shook his head. "No."
Erik pursed his lips together. "Then can you tell us where you gained this information? Surely not from mere observation."
"Where I obtained my information is my own business," Methuselah replied.
"Your own business?" Marge spoke up. She marched up to the vampire and stuffed her fist under his nose. "You're trying to tell us that we're dying, and where you're getting info to help us isn't our business?"
"If your current goal is to stop one of your kind from breaching the fog then it is unimportant to you," Methuselah commented.
"He is right, my Master," Greg spoke up. "Are we to go or stay and argue the point?"
Erik scowled at Methuselah, but turned away from him and looked down the foggy forest path. "We will go, but once this trail has ended-" his eyes flickered to Methuselah, "-we will discuss other matters." Methuselah didn't acknowledge the pointed glance, and Erik turned to Greg. "Lead on."
Greg bowed his head and hefted his backpack over his shoulders. We followed in single file down the foggy road with questions on our minds and a heavy weight of responsibility for all the islands on our shoulders.
CHAPTER 3
We marched down the path in sullen silence. Marge, who walked in front of me, occasionally glanced over her shoulder and shot a glare at Methuselah who showed no signs that he noticed her. Erik walked behind me and ahead of our undead acquaintance.
I half-turned to him and looked over his wounded arm. He clutched the wound in his other hand. "How you doing?" I asked him.
"It's nearly healed," he assured me.
"And you're not going to faint on me?" I persisted.
He managed a small smile and shook his head. "I'm fine."
I glanced past him at Methuselah. "So how often are you going to need to make a meal out of somebody?"
"Once every two nights," he replied.
"So no snacking in-between?" I added.
A sly, crooked grin slipped onto his lips. "Only if the need arises."
My face fell. "So does that mean we'll be the snacks or someone else-" My side collided with Marge's back. She stumbled forward and I slipped off her and tumbled into the brush to the side of the path. I floundered for a second before Erik pulled me out. I whipped my head to Marge. She'd stopped rather suddenly. "What's the big idea?" I questioned her.
She nodded at Greg. "He stopped, so I stopped."
Greg faced the trail ahead of us and nodded. "We have reached the end of the trail."
I looked past him at the path. It did stop abruptly in front of a thick patch of brier bushes. There was a small clearing like before, but without the comfortable fire and logs. There was a stand of tall rocks on either side of the trail, but nothing to show people traveled along this part of the path.
Marge frowned. "I'm sure the men must have kept going."
"Perhaps they did, but we will have an easier time searching for their trail when we have had a proper rest," Erik suggested. He shrugged off his backpack and settled himself on one of the rocks.
"I could go for some food," Marge agreed.
"Then I will supply such as I can," Greg offered as he removed his own backpack.
"That's music to my ears," Marge commented.
Greg and she dug into his bag for food while I settled myself on a rock near Erik. My eyes flickered over to Methuselah. He stood on the path and stared straight ahead at the end.
"I don't think it's going to get any longer with you staring at it," I teased him.
"Perhaps it will," he enigmatically replied.
I rolled my eyes and turned to Erik. His lips were pursed together and his eyebrows were bunched together. He didn't look like talking was what he wanted. I shifted on the rock and something inside my cloak caught my attention. I reached into my coat and pulled out a strange bag. The contents jingled a little like dried stones, and I recalled what they were. I held the little bag out to Erik.
"Why do you think your mom gave me dried beans?" I asked him. The bag had kept them dry during our fun in the water.
He shook his head. "I cannot fathom, but she is more familiar with traditions on the islands than I."
A thought struck me and I grinned. "So we might be able to trade these things for a cow or upgrade to some magic beans?"
Erik blinked at me. "Magic beans?"
My mouth dropped open. "You're not going to tell me that with a library that large you never read Jack and the Beanstalk, are you?"
"I must confess I am," he admitted.
I turned to Greg and pointed at Erik. "You brought him up wrong, Greg," I scolded the old servant.
He glanced up from the bag and bowed his head. "I am sorry to hear that. How could I have improved my efforts?"
"By telling him some good bedtime stories," I suggested. I waved my hand at Erik. "He doesn't even know Jack and the Beanstalk!"
Greg smiled. "I see. I will have to remedy the situation when we return to the Den and find a good book of fairy tales."
Erik's lips turned down. "Isn't it a little late for those?"
"As the old saying goes, my Master, 'better late than never,'" Greg commented.
I snorted at Erik's unhappy face. The beans jingled in my hand and I looked Erik over. "So what about what your mom gave you? That book?" I asked him.
Erik's eyes widened and he searched his cloak. He pulled out the book and turned it over in his hand. "How strange."
I scooted to the end of my stone and closer to him. "What is?"
"The book shows no signs of water damage," he revealed.
I shrugged. "Maybe it's got a good plastic cover."
He ran his hand over the cover and shook his head. "The cover is leather."
"Maybe it's made from a duck or something, but what's in it?" I persisted.
"I have no idea. The only peace I've had in which to read it was while I was in the Braille," he mused.
I snorted. "Just our luck, but open it now. We've got time." I gestured to the brier patch in front of us. "The path isn't going anywhere."
Erik chuckled. "I suppose not." He opened the cover and read a few of the first pages. His smile slipped off his face and his eyebrows crashed down. He flipped through more pages and his eyes swept over them.
I stood and moved to stand beside him. "What is it?" I asked him. I inspected the pages and saw they contained words written in a bold, cursive hand. The blocks of text were interrupted and surrounded by a few hand-drawn pictures. "Is this some sort of recipe book or something?"
He shook his head. "No, this is the business diary of a witch."
"Business diary? What's that?" I questioned him.
"It is where a witch who sells her services records her fee and task," Erik explained. He flipped through the pages faster than I could read, but stopped at a chapter with a particularly large chunk of texts. There was a
map to accompany the record. The map showed a large lake with a multitude of islands.
I pointed at the map. "Isn't that-"
"Wolf Lake," he agreed.
By now we had Greg and Marge's attention. They abandoned their plan for food and joined us by the rocks. Even Methuselah forsook the path and moved over to us.
"So what did this witch have to do with Wolf Lake?" I asked him.
Erik's fingers glided over the map. "Everything." His eyes swept over the page and he stopped at the last paragraph of text. He looked up into our curious faces, and his eyes were wide and wondering. "This is the business diary of the witch who created the fog and cursed us."
There was silence among us for a moment. We stared back at Erik with surprised, disbelieving eyes.
"You're pulling our tails, aren't you?" Marge asked him.
He shook his head. "No. The very date and spell are written here, as is the curse she performed when payment wasn't received."
"Wow, a thorough a witch to write that down," I quipped.
"Does it say anything about undoing the curse?" Marge questioned him.
Erik flipped through a few pages and shook his head. "Nothing."
Marge frowned and half turned away. "Then it's no good to us. We already know about what she did."
I furrowed my brow and tapped on the open pages. "But how did your mom get a hold of her diary?"
Erik snapped the book shut and stood. His eyes flickered to Greg, and the old servant turned his face away. "That is a very good question." He moved to stand in front of Greg, and the older werewolf kept his eyes averted. Erik held the diary in front of Greg. "Did you know my mother held this in her possession?"
Greg shook his head. "I cannot say."
"Do you know where she found this book?" Erik persisted.
"I am bound to secrecy, and cannot say," Greg repeated.
Erik grabbed Greg's collar and pulled them face-to-face. His yellow eyes shone bright in the dim light. "If you know where she procured this then tell me."
"I'd like to know, too," a voice spoke up.
Everyone froze except Methuselah. He was already still, and stayed that way as our heads turned this way and that as we tried to find the source. Erik caught sight of something at the end of the trail and released Greg. I followed his gaze and my eyes widened.
