Charlie Sullivan and the Monster Hunters: Witch Moon

by D. C. McGannon

  “This one is How Monsters Invented Latin, and Other Magickal Languages. I want you all to study this one together, and then read these other books separately. Charlie, for you I have A Compendium of Spells and the Uses of Magic.”

  Lisa looked at Charlie questioningly, mouthing the word ‘magic.’ He nodded vaguely.

  “Darcy, for you my dear, Theories on Enchanted Swords, Ward Amulets, and Other Weapons Against the Dark. Nash, you get A Modern Bestiary—”

  Nash looked at the large, dust covered book. “You call that modern?”

  “—and Lisa, as you have so luckily shown up, for you there is Practical Uses for Odd Gifts In and Out of Battle.”

  “I’ve already read it,” said Lisa. “Good book.”

  “Have you now? Then you can switch with Darcy.”

  “I’ve read all of these, Loch.”

  Loch narrowed his eyes. “Good for you, girl,” he said, sounding disappointed. “Way to stay ahead of the game. Since you’re doing so well, you can help tutor the others. Now, we shall go see our visitor, who has so kindly spared you from the obstacle course.”

  “Not sure ‘spared’ is the word,” Nash mumbled, looking at his homework.

  Darcy skipped up the steps after Loch. “We have a visitor?”

  “Yes. He’s been in one of the parlors for the last ten minutes, waiting on all of us, so I’m told. Your mother is keeping watch over him. She says he looks worse for the wear, but that he refuses to rest until he sees the ‘Monster Hunters that defeated the Dark Prince.’”

  The group of four paused, wondering what a stranger would want with them.

  They made their way through the Key’s hallways—now familiar to the young Hunters—and to the main parlor room. Elizabeth Witherington, Priest, and Chen sat or stood around the room sipping down cups of hot cocoa or tea. Despite having become friends with the Monster Hunters, Priest and Chen were both still mysteries, centuries out of time after being held in captivity by the Dark Prince. Dräng passed the Hunters in the doorway with a small stack of dirty dishes. Presumably he had been at the Key for a while, probably having used the ley lines—pathways of magic connecting portals to the Otherworld—to arrive at the Key before Charlie and Lisa, even though they had left Lisa’s house first. He smiled toothily at them as he took the dirty dishes to the kitchen.

  The curious Hunters found the visitor quickly, no doubt helped by his loud snores. A young man sat slumped at a small table in the parlor with a bowl of soup and a plate of half eaten bread next to his head, as well as an uncapped bottle of water, nearly empty. He was athletic but had weary lines on his face, despite being young. His nose looked like it had been broken once or twice before. His clothes looked like something that had been caught in time—way back in time. Now they were ripped in places and stained with mud, sweat, and blood. No one recognized him from being around town.

  Loch strode over to the young man and shook him gently by the shoulder. “Boy, you wanted to see me?”

  When the visitor did not stir, he shook a little harder, repeating himself. When a third attempt proved necessary, Loch raised his voice.

  “Boy! Wake up!”

  The young man stood with a yelp, fast awake, knocking over the water bottle and the dish of soup in the process. He righted the already emptied dishes and tried to compose himself, mumbling. Looking around with wide eyes, he noticed Loch standing there and—although it must be said Loch was never a glorious vision to wake to—jumped back a little.

  “Oh,” he said. “Oh, you must be the Keeper of the Key.”

  Loch nodded, extending his hand. “That would be me. My name’s Loch.”

  The visitor took his hand, shaking it rapidly. “Wonderful to meet you, Loch. Very good, very good.”

  “Right,” said Loch after the visitor continued to shake his hand. “And your name is…?”

  “Forgive me. I am Derrick.”

  “Derrick. That’s Charlie, Darcy, Lisa, and Nash. I’m assuming you already have talked with Elizabeth, Priest and Chen. Please, sit. You must be tired after your journey,” he added drily.

  Derrick chuckled, his face turning white, and sat heavily into the chair. Dräng came in to mop up the soup and collect the dishes, which seemed to disturb the young man, but he spoke to the group, his accent blatant and a little hard to understand.

  “The plane ride was a new experience for me, but that wasn’t the problem.”

  “And what was the problem? Do tell.”

  Derrick’s face blanched again. “Faoladh. They chased me halfway across the country, it seemed. I rode a full day and night in the saddle just to evade them. It…the ride killed my horse.”

  “Faoladh?” asked Lisa. “Like, werewolves?”

  He nodded gravely. “Aye! Straight from the pit, those beasts.”

  “But I thought faoladh were good wolves?”

  He shook his head. “There are no good wolves left in Ireland.”

  Charlie noted the look on Lisa’s face. She was looking at the newcomer, but her eyes told him she was far away in thought.

  Loch saw it too, but he had to deal with the matter at hand.

  “Why would wolves be chasing you, Derrick?”

  “Well they’ve been very active lately, attacking people frequently for food. But, in particular, they didn’t want me to get here.”

  “I see. And you are here because…?”

  Derrick wiped his mouth with a handkerchief and pushed his bowl away, all business now. “I am a messenger, from the village of Drakauragh.”

  Loch and Priest, at least, seemed to stir at the name of Drakauragh.

  “What’s your message, Derrick?” asked Priest, who stood by the fireplace. The firelight cast heavy shadows on his lined face.

  Derrick reached for a muddy saddlebag on a chair next to him and pulled out a beat up scroll of parchment. Standing again, Derrick cleared his throat and squinted at the paper. He began reading:

  To the Monster Hunters of Hunter’s Grove, from Dunwick Sol of Drakauragh.

  Dear friends, this message is written as a plea for your help. Our village Drakauragh is being ravaged by foul creatures of dark origins, led by a witch mistress whose name I wish to neither speak nor write. I write to you because of your recent and astounding defeat of the Dark Prince, and also because I understand you have dealt with this witch before in the aforementioned victory over evil. News travelled into our village easily enough, but we cannot leave for fear of the beasts in the surrounding area. We are trapped. I beg you, come to our aid with haste. The next full moon, known to us as the Witch Moon, will give the witch and the beasts at her command power and means to take Drakauragh for their whims. By the time the Witch Moon rises, our town will surely be doomed without your help.

  In hopes of your hasty arrival, I pray for your safe passage through our treacherous land.

  Dunwick Sol

  When the message was finished, Loch held out his hand and Derrick passed him the cracked and muddied parchment. He silently read over it again, twice, as the others waited and thought to themselves.

  “The witch queen…as in the Sagemistress?” asked Darcy. Derrick flinched.

  “Aye,” said Loch, abruptly rolling up the scroll. “That would seem to be her.”

  There was a moment of hesitant silence in the room as they all considered what was being asked.

  “Will you go?” asked Derrick.

  “The next full moon is in just five days,” said Elizabeth. “They can’t possibly…”

  Loch looked at Elizabeth Witherington, then at Charlie and the others. “They can. It’s just within the scope of possible, but they can.”

  She began to speak, to reaffirm that these children—that her daughter—could not possibly make the journey that quickly and be expected to deal with the likes of the Sagemistress. But the Huntress inside he
r stopped her. It had to be done.

  “The Sagemistress was freed after the varcolac’s defeat,” Loch continued. “We knew that would happen. Now it’s time to clean up the mess. This is what I’ve been preparing you for.”

  Charlie forced himself to step up, ignoring the nervousness deep down. “Then,” he hesitated, hoping he was making the right decision. “We’ll do it.”

  Loch placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It will be dangerous.” He wanted them to go, but at the same time he felt uneasy about sending four teenagers off to Drakauragh.

  Nash crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway, nonchalant. “We’ve been in dangerous positions before. And besides, we already dealt with her.”

  “No you didn’t. Not like this. She’s been around since before humans started keeping track of things. Under the varcolac, the Sagemistress’ powers were weakened. Stifled, to keep her in line. Now she’ll be regaining her old strength, and she’s probably got the numbers of two covens under her leadership—at least.”

  “Witches haunt Drakauragh,” Lisa said. Everyone looked to her. “What else? You said werewolves?”

  Derrick shifted uneasily. “Wolves, yes, some miles out of Drakauragh—on the way into the village, actually. Some boggarts. Some of the ugliest faeries on God’s green Earth. The witches, though, are the worst.”

  “I’m up for the trip,” she said, barely hiding the anxiety in her voice.

  “I say we go,” Charlie reiterated. “We didn’t shy away from facing the varcolac, and I don’t think we should shy away from this just because it isn’t our town that’s in trouble this time.”

  Darcy looked to her mother. Elizabeth Witherington, though reluctant to let her daughter go straight into a place that was known to be more sensitive to supernatural forces, nodded her silent approval. Her daughter was, just as she had been in her youth, a Hunter.

  “What about Dad?” Darcy whispered.

  “I’ll stop him from wringing his hands.”

  Darcy smiled thankfully. “Then what are we waiting for?”

  They all looked to Nash.

  “What’re you all looking at me for? As if I’m gonna stay here and let you have all the fun!”

  The adults in the room nodded grimly. Loch cleared his throat. “Guess that means no homework. I’ll talk with each of your parents, just to make sure. You’ll need to get ready and pack light for a journey. Drakauragh isn’t simply a place you take the bus to. And you, Derrick, should get some rest. You’re welcome to a warm bath and whatever else you need to feel at home.”

  “Thanks for that, sir.”

  Priest shifted his position from the fireplace. “Loch, a word with you?”

  “Certainly. You four, I had Dräng set lunch in the kitchen. Elizabeth, Chen, you’re welcome to hot dogs, if you haven’t eaten yet.”

  As Charlie and the others headed for the kitchen—a regular hang out for the group, since that first time they entered the Key—Chen whispered to Mrs. Witherington, “Hot dogs? What are these?”

  Priest and Loch watched them go. Derrick started to snore at his place at the table.

  “Boy must be tired,” said Priest, gruff but sympathetic.

  “Let’s talk upstairs so we don’t disturb him,” said Loch.

  In the kitchen, Dräng was wearing an apron and mittens to keep the sizzling grease from burning his arms or bare belly. It was comical, seeing an impish little creature dressed in a chef’s attire.

  “Hot doggies, ready for eating!”

  He pushed forward six plates over, each piled with five or six hot-dogs.

  “Um, Dräng?” Lisa prodded. She had spent the most time with the former Chief of Assistants, and she knew his quirks better than anyone else at this point.

  “Yes, Lisa?”

  “Where are the buns?”

  “Buns?” He patted his backside, sounding highly offended.

  Nash called out from the other side of the kitchen. “Got ‘em. Catch.”

  Charlie caught the bag of hot dog buns and began to distribute one or two to everyone.

  “Those are buns,” Lisa whispered to Dräng. “And typically we only eat one or two hot dogs per serving.”

  “Ohhhh,” Dräng cooed.

  “Hey, I don’t mind,” said Nash. He outfitted each of his six hot dogs with a bun, ketchup, and mustard. Darcy scrunched her nose, ever the one to mind her etiquette, and politely removed five of the extra dogs from her plate.

  Chen picked up two of his, without buns, and examined them. “And we eat these with droppings?”

  Elizabeth laughed. “With toppings, you mean.”

  “Here, try some of this,” Nash said and tossed a bottle of ketchup across the bar, causing more than a few heads to duck. Chen reached up with a lightning fast hand to catch the bottle.

  “So you kids are ready to do this?” Elizabeth asked. The light mood grew a little heavier.

  Charlie swallowed his mouthful and nodded. “I think it’s the right thing to do.”

  “How far are you willing to go for the right thing?” she asked.

  Life paused for a moment. Each of the four remembered the friend they had lost in Liev. Lisa tried very hard to keep back the tears.

  “To the end,” she answered quietly.

  “We were pretty good at it the first time,” boasted Nash, trying to lighten the mood.

  “It’s more than being good at it,” Darcy said, a touch philosophical in the presence of her mother. “We’re the Monster Hunters of Hunter’s Grove. It’s what we’re meant to do.”

  Mrs. Witherington waited before pressing on. “It sounds like you might run into a pack of wolves along the way. Are you all…okay with that?”

  They all muttered accordingly.

  “These hot dogs,” asked Chen, “they aren’t really dogs are they?”

  Entering an old room used for storage, filled with things like antique tables, mirrors, etc., Loch closed the door behind him and grabbed two dusty chairs, swinging one around and sitting in it.

  “What’s on your mind, Priest?”

  It felt strange to Priest to be addressed in such a manner. Loch was the authority in Hunter’s Grove, and he respected that, but Priest was the older man—older by the mark of a few centuries. Times had changed, and Priest felt completely out of time and place.

  Priest hesitantly took the seat Loch had set for him, then looked the scruffy man in his eye. “Drakauragh. What do you know of it?”

  “I know it’s a sensitive location for supernatural activity.”

  “Aye, you could say that. Drakauragh was feared even as far back as my day.”

  Priest leaned forward.

  “I may have been stuck in the Otherworld for longer than most men live, but I can tell you one thing: Drakauragh is a dangerous place, Loch. Those children, they can’t just go deal with the Sagemistress like they did with the Dark Prince.”

  Loch sat back with a breath, frowning but nodding. “I understand. That’s why I want you to lead them.”

  Priest recoiled in shock. “Me?”

  “That’s what I said, yes.”

  “Why are you not going? You’re their mentor.”

  “The Dark Prince chose this place for a reason. You know what purpose I’m talking about.”

  Priest blanched. It was the reason he and Chen had been captured in the first place. “I do.”

  “Just today,” Loch continued, “Fish and Dink found the mutilated remains of animals scattered from the woods to the street. I’m afraid some new threat is already here, in Hunter’s Grove.”

  Priest crossed to the window overlooking the Key grounds. “I can’t even find my way through this blasted house! I am in no shape to lead a group of juveniles into battle.”

  “But Drakauragh was, if I remember, your post.”

&n
bsp; “How…how would you know that?”

  “I know my history, Priest. But never mind that. The land and the witches of the Sagemistress are things you should be familiar with. Your experience would greatly help my students on this journey.”

  “Inis Fáil—Ireland, as you call it now—was my homeland. She’s changed, no doubt, with time. Just like everything else has.”

  “She has. But not by much. Drakauragh itself has hardly been touched by modern civilization, and much of the land around it remains country and rural areas.”

  Loch stood up and tried to smile reassuringly.

  “You’re right that they can’t just go in and kill the Sagemistress, lickety-split. Charlie’s a good leader, but he’s only a boy, and I won’t be able to go with them on this venture. They need your help.”

  Priest was quiet for many moments. He was lost in this new world, and he felt useless floating around Hunter’s Key like he had the last few weeks. Perhaps, if he got back to some semblance of work and routine as a Hunter, then his life could have meaning again.

  “Aye. It will be my honor.”

  Later on that night, an event was happening at the Vadiknov house. If one listened from outside, two raised voices could be heard trying to talk over each other. Lisa was breaking the news to her parents—or trying to, at least.

  “Mama, I have to go!”

  “Nyet!” cried Mrs. Vadiknov, her Russian accent becoming more pronounced. “No, no, no. I lose your brother, I don’t want to lose you next.”

  She crossed her arms stubbornly. Lisa looked to her father and back.

  “They need me there with them. We’re a team!”

  “So? They can learn to work without you as a team.”

  Lisa looked at her father again, desperate. Mr. Vadiknov had been very quiet since the beginning of the conversation, sitting in his rocking chair and stroking Tsar, one of their cats. She was tempted to tell them her ulterior motive for going, but she could not. Instead she maintained the other, and still truthful, reason that she wanted to go: That she was a Monster Hunter, and this was her duty as part of a team, and as a friend.