Charlie Sullivan and the Monster Hunters: Council of the Hunters

by D. C. McGannon

  Charlie stopped inside the shadows of a doorway, and turned to look at Aisling. Everyone else stopped as well.

  “That isn’t all, though, is it?” he asked. “Why do you need bodyguards?”

  Aisling’s eyes scanned the dark passages around them. “Are we safe here?”

  “Nowhere is safe right now.”

  She nodded in resignation. “Someone tried to kill me.”

  “A witch?” asked Darcy.

  “No. A human.”

  Darcy frowned. “Who?”

  “We don’t know yet. I didn’t get a good look, but I did see the knife they swung at me. Marcus was there and pushed me out of the way—he fought off the attacker.”

  “There was a trace of a scent left when we arrived,” said Connor, “but it was too late. Whoever the trespasser was, they were long gone.”

  Charlie sensed more to the story. “You think it was a hunter? A council member?”

  She crossed her arms, holding herself. “I don’t know what to think. I do know that the attacker came the day after I was informed of the meeting. I had already been reading up on what it meant to be a council member. After that, though, I made sure to read up on the council members themselves.”

  “Can you help us, as well?” he asked. “Help us through this trial?”

  Aisling looked him in the eye, and Charlie couldn’t help but marvel at the strength he saw in her. “I’ll do the best I can,” she said, some of that Irish, country girl accent coming through.

  “We need it. Thank you.”

  “So, onto the West Wing?” asked Lisa. “We still need to look over that book, don’t we, Charlie?”

  “Right. We do.”

  “What book is that?” Aisling asked as they started along again. She quickened her pace a little to walk next to Charlie. Behind them, Lisa fumed silently.

  “It’s a long story. But I think it will help Loch.”

  “The Keeper of the Key? The one that my grandmum saw before she passed?”

  “If he were here, this would all be so much simpler.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “He’s stuck in a coma,” Lisa interjected. “While we were in Drakauragh, something attacked the Key. He was caught in the crossfire.”

  “I’m surprised I didn’t hear about that. I was under the impression he would be in the council meeting. I guess some news still doesn’t reach our little town. What is this?” she asked as they walked through a door and up a small set of wood steps.

  “The Main Attic,” Lisa said, glancing at the spiral stairs leading up into the ceiling. “You can get to almost any section of the Key from here.”

  Outside, audible only to them, a wind howled, and the Key moaned, irritable.

  “That didn’t sound happy,” Nash said.

  Darcy looked at Charlie, Lisa, and Liev. “Almost like yesterday. Only less ticked off.”

  “Happy? Ticked off?” said Connor. “You guys talk like the house has feelings.”

  The five Monster Hunters of Hunter’s Grove turned to look at the bodyguard, all of their faces serious as night.

  “It sort of does, actually,” Aisling whispered to her bodyguard. She turned to her American friends. “Right?”

  “Right—” Charlie began as he scanned the darkness with his Sight. What he saw through the enchanted walls turned his blood cold.

  It took him a moment to realize what he was seeing, and where. The small, childlike form again, dark and malicious. Pressing harder, he could see clearly through the walls—the thing was in Loch’s room.

  “Something’s in the Key!” he blurted, already running.

  They called after him, and ran to catch up with him, plunging through the narrow doorways along the way.

  “It was right here!” Charlie said as the first of them barged into the room. “I saw it. It was doing something to Loch. I’ve seen it hiding around the Key before, too.”

  “All right. Whatever it was, it’s gone now,” said Nash, trying to calm his friend down.

  Charlie was barely listening. He was examining Loch with the Sight. Looking for new magic, malicious energy, anything. “This thing ... I think it’s keeping Loch in this coma. Keeping him weak, unable to fight back.” He pulled the varcolac’s diary from his backpack, and the others gathered in closer, tentative.

  “Charlie, we haven’t talked about it yet,” Lisa reasoned.

  “What’s there to talk about? Last night, I found a passage that talked about something like this. There’s magic for keeping your enemies in a sort of endless sleep until you’re ready to deal with them.”

  The words he used seemed to chill the room.

  “What is that book?” Aisling asked.

  “That,” said Liev, arms crossed, “is the diary of the Dark Prince, the varcolac we faced in the Otherworld.” Tension weighted the air, and their souls. The two faoladh bodyguards looked even more on edge, feeling the Key’s disapproval.

  Peeking over Charlie’s shoulder, she frowned. “The pages are blank.”

  “Not with the Sight,” said Charlie.

  Lisa cleared her throat. “And did it say how to wake people back up who were affected by this ... black magic?” She feared the answer.

  Charlie nodded. “Yes. It did. You guys might not want to see the next part.” He took out his silver dagger, putting the blade to his palm.

  “Whoa,” Nash raised his hands, “hold on a second. I don’t think this is the way to go.”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “We work as a team, so we should all agree on a solution first,” said Darcy.

  “Or you all could stand back and let me do what needs to be done. This is what I’ve decided on.”

  They stared at him in shock. Aisling stepped closer to the door. “Charlie, can we talk? Alone?"

  Charlie looked at the others, realizing the hurt and surprise on their faces. He put the dagger away for the moment and walked out the door, his arrogance evident, following Aisling down the hall. They stopped at the Main Lobby, looking over the banister.

  “That’s dark magic in that book, isn’t it?” she asked.

  He nodded, looking down the hall.

  “The others are right. You don’t need to use this to save Loch. It’s evil. This can backfire on you in a big way.”

  “I don’t care what it is, as long as it can save Loch.”

  “There are better ways, somewhere. Ways that won’t compromise who you are.”

  “Who is that, exactly?” Charlie asked, leaning against the railing.

  “Charlie Sullivan,” she said with a comforting, confident, smile. “Leader of the Monster Hunters of Hunter’s Grove. Kind, and soft spoken, passionate. The boy who led in the defeat of an age-old enemy in the Dark Prince. The same who stopped a witch goddess from taking over Drakauragh. A man who I believe will change our society for the better as he grows.” She reached over to the railing, placing her hand on his. “I believe that, and I hope you do too. But how will you change, and how will you influence other monster hunters, if you turn down this path now?”

  “What other choice do I have? We’re out of time.” Charlie looked at her sadly, and Aisling couldn’t help but feel her heart flutter deep inside.

  “Then let me try something first. Please, Charlie?” She pleaded with eyes filled with honesty and compassion, and Charlie backed down. She squeezed his hand, affirming his decision as the right one.

  Charlie looked down to where their hands met. He pulled away, not wanting to, and looked her in the eyes. “If it doesn’t work, I’m using the diary.”

  She nodded in understanding, smiling bittersweet.

  They walked silent, awkward, back to the others, who waited with burning curiosity.

  Aisling approached the master hunter’s bedside, putting a hand on his deeply creviced forehead. “So this is Loch,” she whispered to herself. “Charlie, what does your Sight see?”

  Charlie looked at her, hesitant. He used his gift often, but he tr
ied not to face others when he did. He had grown cautious about allowing people to see his eyes.

  But Aisling nodded, encouraging him. Charlie let the Sight take over his eyes, not surprised to see the black mist that hovered over Loch had become thicker, swirling in angry vortexes, falling and rising in needle-like spirals to pierce him. He described what he saw as best he could.

  “Where is the magic strongest?”

  “Over his eyes.”

  Aisling lifted her hand, waving it over Loch’s face. “Quinn? And you too, Connor. I don’t think either of you want to take in too much of this alone.”

  “Aye, m’lady,” the older bodyguard said as they approached. Liev came closer as well, interested to see what his faoladh brethren would do.

  The hunters tensed as the two men underwent a controlled, but visible change before them—bodies becoming leaner, arms crooked, legs bent. The biggest change took place in their faces, eyes glowing silver-blue, and their teeth extending long and canine. Their faces and jaws lengthened into a frightening muzzle. Quinn’s beard became wild, tufts of fur spreading from it.

  “Not too far,” Aisling warned. “I still need you two as humans.”

  “Of course ... m’lady,” Quinn acknowledged again, his voice sounding warped and strained this time.

  “What are they going to do?” asked Charlie as the two men—wolves—bent down, teeth bared.

  “The faoladh hold a unique gift,” Aisling told him. “Unlike other werewolves around the world, faoladh are monsters that were created by a human curse. Created by a hunter centuries ago, to the dismay of many. They were given the ability to tear at the fabric of magic. Consume it.”

  “Like the Curse Eater?” Charlie asked, remembering that horrible time in Drakauragh when he had acted as a Curse Eater’s conduit to save Liev’s life.

  “No. Similar, but they devour magic itself. They can’t perform the Curse Eater’s ritual, or eat too much adverse magic like this. If someone would be kind enough to keep watch at the door,” whispered Aisling. “I would rather not have to explain why Quinn and Connor are here, or in this state, if anyone decided to barge in.”

  Nash walked backwards, peeking into the hallway. He stood at the threshold, wanting to see what happened to their mentor.

  Quinn engaged first, sniffing the air. He cringed at the repugnant aroma of the magic. Feeling the magic in the air, he lunged forward, teeth snapping, harsh and rapid. Darcy jumped.

  Quinn tugged at the air, struggling. He growled—making sounds a human throat certainly wouldn’t make—pulling at what looked to others like nothing.

  Charlie could see it. The inky patch of magic clamped between those sharp, angry teeth, which seemed to have their own kind of magic if he looked close enough. The sorcery ripped and frayed, shredding, scattering like an angry anthill.

  Quinn snapped it up, head back, like a dog might devour a slab of meat, as Connor took his turn. The younger faoladh was less comfortable, sensing just how bad this evil was. Even so, Charlie was surprised—and grateful—when he took an even larger chunk of the darkness in his jaws than his older companion had. He ripped it away, slurping it up. Both men looked immediately sick, and Aisling left Loch to place her hands on both of them.

  After a few moments they both seemed less ill, more human.

  “Can you teach me to do that?” asked Liev.

  The redheaded faoladh nodded, patting his brow with a handkerchief. “Of course. The Alpha should know what he is capable of.”

  Aisling sat down in the damask chair, weary. “What do you see now, Charlie?”

  “The blackness is still there, but it’s not as bad. It’s less powerful than it has been in weeks, actually.”

  She nodded. “Please give us more time. Quinn, Connor and I will do what we can for him while we are here. I don’t trust a royal’s dark magic.”

  Charlie wanted Loch to wake now, but as he looked at the others, he could see they felt the same way as Aisling. He nodded, relenting.

  Aisling smiled, grateful. “If you would excuse us now, I’m feeling a bit tired.”

  She stood, the effects of the magic evident on her. She looked frail. Charlie moved closer, in case she fell. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

  “I’ll be fine with some rest. My gift has not been an easy one to master. I just need to lie down for a wee bit.”

  Aisling and her bodyguards left, all three of them looking worse than when they had arrived, although whatever healing she had done helped the two faoladh.

  Charlie looked back at the evil swirling over Loch and wondered if the magic was more powerful than they’d previously thought. He felt less safe, whether in the Key, or in his own home, and he never felt alone. Even now, he felt like somebody was there with them. “We have to find that little monster running around. I’m not sure what’s worse—having that creature here, or having the council here.”

  Lisa huffed, “Well that’s a pretty dumb thing to say.”

  Everyone looked between her and Charlie, shocked.

  “The council has been around for centuries for a reason. They may not be the most pleasant people, but they exist for a reason. I would think we can trust them a bit more than whatever deviant monster is lurking here. Besides, your girlfriend is on the council now, so I don’t know why you’re so upset.”

  Charlie mouthed the world girlfriend before deciding to ignore the remark. “Why I’m upset? I’m not upset. I’m uncomfortable with demons and monsters and people who have the power to stop us from protecting this town, all coming and going as they please from what had been, until now, the safest place in the world.” He stopped to catch his breath, his tone becoming defensive, louder. “Why are you upset?”

  “I’m not upset,” Lisa snapped.

  Charlie and Lisa glared at each other, the silence deafening.

  “You know what? Apparently all I have are dumb things to say. I’m going home.”

  “Fine,” said Lisa. “I’m going home too.”

  “Fine!”

  The two glared at each other for another moment before turning away and—simultaneously—marching down different staircases. Realizing this, Charlie turned toward the Library, taking the long way out.

  Darcy, Nash, and Liev stood at the top of the Main Lobby, listening to the sounds of angry footsteps echoing, punctuated when Lisa slammed the front door with the energy of her gift, not looking back.

  “What ... was that?” asked Nash.

  “Attraction,” Darcy answered expertly. “And stress.”

  Liev sighed. “It’s getting late, those two are having a tiff, again, and we’re all stressed. Let’s call it a night.”

  Chapter 9

  Over the course of days, Priest, Fish, and Dink had searched Hunter’s Grove relentlessly, together and separately, bothering more than a few of the townspeople and the local wildlife. Elizabeth had asked the local police to investigate Chen’s disappearance, and gave up, finding no physical evidence of the man in town, or in any of the outlying areas. They went so far as to take a look at the old saw mill that lay north of Hunter’s Grove in an abandoned part of town.

  “Sorry, sir,” an officer in his late twenties told Priest. The young man stole a worried glance at Dink, who was busy tying fishing line around a dried lizard. “There’s just nothing for us to go on. If you ask me, this town has gotten all sorts of weird since, well, you know ...”

  Priest resisted the urge to grumble at the officer. Charlie Sullivan and company had become heroes for a while when they stopped the Dark Prince from destroying the town, but not long following, the people of Hunter’s Grove grew distrustful about anything operating outside the accepted boundaries of reason and routine. That included Dräng. Many considered the group’s ‘mascot’ to be some sort of goblin, and no one knew quite what to think of Priest and Chen. People just knew they were “not from around here.”

  “All right, lad. Thank you for your efforts.”

  The policeman dipped his head. “I ho
pe you find your friend. They ...” He hesitated. “Some of the boys at the station, they did say they saw a goblin or some nonsense out at the old mill.”

  Priest let out a harrumph. They were looking for a torturer of men’s souls, not one of the faerie folk. Several minutes later, he slumped against a tree outside the police station, exhausted from the mental toll their search was taking on him.

  “That’s one place we haven’t gone to,” Fish pointed out.

  Priest’s chin tilted upwards. “Where’s that?”

  “The old saw mill. They’ve looked, but we haven’t.”

  Dink pursed his lips, nibbling on one of the lizard’s crunchy toes. “Can’t say I wanna. That place has more ghost stories than the VHS section at the video store.”

  “Old biddies’ tales, Dink.”

  “Pffft. And who are we to be yakkin’ about those? Anyway, it’s a haven for local myths, but it’s also a good hideout. I used to play hide and seek there when I was a squirt.”

  “All right,” Priest said, nodding. “If there’s a chance Chen is there, I want to go.”

  After squeezing into Fish’s little red pickup truck—and after Dink had shoved a favorite cassette tape into the mouth of the truck’s stereo system that was as old as the ghost town they were headed to—they were on their way. Priest felt his gut clench as the last of the sun’s direct rays disappeared behind the hilltops. He had no interest in running into a demon that, or any, night.

  It was dark when they arrived, the single headlight of Fish’s truck revealing the abandoned area of town to be a dull muddling of browns and grays. Under the moon, a large, sprawling structure shared the silhouette of the nearest hill.

  Priest’s boots crunched the tall grass beneath his feet as they exited the truck. “Not sure I like this,” muttered Priest.

  “Might I suggest checking the buildings up here before we get into that mess of a mill?” asked Fish.

  “Aye.”