Charlie Sullivan and the Monster Hunters: Witch Moon

by D. C. McGannon

  Then Charlie remembered where he had seen it before. The Blind Boy’s memories.

  Charlie shivered, and wondered if the Blind Boy wasn’t the only monster created in that tragic night. He hoped none of the other villagers had turned into vengeful spirits that haunted the woods now.

  “Will big sister be alright?” he heard Dräng ask.

  “She’ll be fine,” Aisling said. “She just needs to rest.”

  “Which is too bad, really,” said a voice from outside the hut.

  Charlie jumped to his feet, spear in hand.

  “Don’t bother,” said a woman as she stepped into the doorway. “I’m here to warn you, not to attack you.”

  She lowered a black hood, revealing a face that was young and handsome, but filled with malice.

  “Who are you?” asked Charlie. He felt Dräng and Aisling step up behind him, forming a defensive wall.

  “Carman. I lead the coven next to the Sagemistress.”

  “Then why don’t we kill you right now and get it out of the way for later?” asked Charlie, itching to charge forward. He was getting tired of witches and the trouble they brought.

  Carman laughed shortly. “As if you could. But no, as I said, I’m just here as a messenger.”

  “Then what’s your message? Get it over with and go away.”

  She smiled darkly. “I like your anger, boy. But I digress. I’ve come to tell you to go home.”

  Charlie shook his head. He’d been through this before, at a place called Witch Island. “No.”

  “The Sagemistress told me you would say that, and I must say you don’t disappoint. But this isn’t a simple chance she’s offering, this time. I’ve already sent my son to your pathetic little human town to destroy everything that you love so much, everything you left behind to come and stop us…. Everything that you’ll never see again. Although, I must say, my son Dub is a bit slow when he travels through ley lines. If you leave now, you might just get home in time to die with the rest of your friends.”

  “There are Hunters there stronger than we are.”

  “Ha! Stronger they may be, but there are only two. Oh yes, I know how many there are. I know their names, how old and tired they are. They won’t be enough to stop the likes of Dub. Your choice.”

  “Dräng,” Charlie called over his shoulder.

  “Yes?”

  “Go find a ley line. Get to Hunter’s Key, warn Loch and Mrs. Witherington, and help them.”

  Charlie could hear Dräng’s ears flopping as the little monster nodded. “Okay. But, what about Drakauragh, and you and big sister and everyone else?”

  “We’ll be fine, Dräng. Don’t worry about us. Everyone is coming home alive, this time.”

  Carman watched dispassionately as Dräng jumped through tall grasses and a broken window, disappearing into the forest.

  “Are you so sure that was a good idea?” asked the witch. “Who do you think told us how to get into Hunter’s Key?”

  “That’s ridiculous,” said Charlie. “I know how you monsters work. You lie and pit us against each other, so can it. I’ve heard it all before.”

  Carman laughed and raised her hands, feigning defeat. “I admit, you’ve discovered the bleak truth of all us monsters. We’re liars and thieves, and so on. What’s interesting to me is that you’ve forgotten that Dräng is a monster, as well.”

  “He’s proven himself—”

  “Against the Prince, yes, I’ve heard. He sided with humans to escape his slave master. How heroic of him, escaping his own bonds,” she said sarcastically. “You’ll see. Just watch.”

  Charlie ran forward, his spear aimed for the witch’s heart. He thought it struck, but Carman laughed, seemingly dissolving from her heart outward. Birds flew out of her as her form dispersed into the air.

  “I like your anger,” she said again before her head turned into three crows and flew away.

  Charlie cursed, slamming the spear’s point into the ground. He stood there leaning against it for a moment, forcing himself to inhale deeply and slowly.

  “Charlie?”

  He sighed and pulled the spear out of the ground, turning to face Aisling.

  “Can you really trust Dräng?” she asked. “I know he’s your friend, but he’s a monster.”

  “He’s been a better friend to us than most humans,” Charlie answered. “We can definitely trust him.”

  Aisling nodded, still looking unsure but wanting to believe him. She watched Charlie as he sat down next to Lisa, marveling at all he had already faced in life.

  “Get some rest,” he said. “I’ll take first watch.”

  Carman flew into the crooked house, her form congealing from a flurry of flapping wings and cawing beaks, as the coven watched.

  “Well?” asked the Sagemistress.

  “It went well,” Carman said. She looked for her sons in the room full of witches. “Dub?”

  A young boy, looking no more than five or six, stepped forward. “Yes, mother?”

  “Follow the brownie. He’ll show you the way into the Key, and then you two can wreak all the havoc you want.”

  Dub smiled. “Yes, mother. May I spread the sickness?”

  “Destroy everything you wish, my love.”

  Dub nodded, grinning, and ran out of the crooked house, untied shoelaces trailing from his small, worn shoes. He skipped along the dirty street of the Otherworld’s version of Drakauragh, the purple sun shining down on him. Dub found a burial mound and dove into the hole, travelling through the ley line until he sensed Dräng’s presence.

  And then they were on their way to Hunter’s Key.

  Chapter 6: The Pack

  Lisa sat up in a room that smelled like grass and mold. After a few moments of looking around, she realized why.

  She had a pounding headache, her clothes were wet, a strange paste was stuck to her arms where her jacket sleeves had been rolled up. It was on her forehead, too.

  Disoriented, she tried to understand what was going on and how she had gotten here, when she saw someone standing just outside of the room—or hut, she realized—leaning against a spear.

  “Charlie?” she asked, throat sore.

  He spun around, looking as if he hadn’t slept in days. He walked inside, pushing grass out of his way as he did.

  “Lisa? You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

  “I don’t know, like I’ve been run over by a truck. What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

  Charlie scowled. “You shouldn’t run off on us like that. We’re a team. We stick together.”

  “There’s something I need to do. Alone,” she said, matching his scowl. She stood up—legs threatening to give out again—and crossed her arms indignantly. “What’s it to you?”

  “Everything!”

  They both stood there, a little shocked.

  Aisling poked her head in through a window long smashed out. “What are you two fighting about? I thought you’d be happy she was awake,” she said to Charlie. Then she looked at Lisa. “And you should be resting?”

  “What’s she doing here?” Lisa asked, more bluntly than she intended.

  “She’s the one that saved you,” said Charlie.

  Aisling came around from the window and walked in, shrugging. “I wouldn’t say saved. I don’t think you would’ve died. You would’ve been in pretty bad shape, though.”

  “Well, thank you,” said Lisa. She looked around for her backpack, found and shouldered it. “Now I need to go.”

  “Just like that?” asked Charlie.

  “Yes, just like that.”

  “Fine.”

  “Okay.”

  Lisa marched out of the house and looked around at the other dilapidated buildings, realizing they were in the ruins of some old world village. Feeling the eyes of Charlie
and Aisling on her, she shook her head and found the sun, then marched in the direction she thought was west.

  When she heard footsteps following her, she turned around to see both Charlie and Aisling following.

  “What are you doing? Go back and help the others. The full moon isn’t that far away.”

  “It’s quicker to get to Drakauragh this way,” said Charlie. “And we’re coming to help you.”

  “You don’t even know what I’m doing.”

  “Looking for Liev,” Charlie said. “I’m not dumb. None of us are, Lisa.”

  “Are you going to try and stop me?”

  “Why would I?”

  She blinked away the moisture welling up in her eyes and nodded. “Thank you.”

  Charlie wanted to say don’t thank me, but couldn’t. He just kept walking, marching ahead of her, Aisling right behind.

  “If we do find him,” Charlie said, “how are we going to deal with the wolves?”

  “I haven’t gotten that far yet,” said Lisa.

  “I might be able to help with that,” said a voice no one recognized.

  The three young Hunters turned, drawing weapons and erupting with black energy. In front of them stood a young woman looking only a year or two older, dressed in a midnight blue cloak and hood, a red scarf thrown about her shoulders. She smiled at them sweetly. Her black eyes seemed familiar to Charlie.

  “Are you a witch?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I am.”

  “Then why would you want to help us?” asked Aisling.

  “It’s a trap, obviously,” said Lisa.

  “Oh no, please don’t think I’m a friend to the Sagemistress, now. We used to be quite close, but not anymore.”

  “And why should we believe you?” asked Lisa.

  “I can prove it. I know what it is you’re attempting to do. Keep going as you are. When you need my help, I will appear to you.”

  “We don’t want your help,” said Charlie. “We’ve had enough of witches.”

  She smiled, stepping back into the trees. “I am no mere witch,” she said, her form blending with a shadow and vanishing.

  “What should we do?” asked Aisling.

  Lisa looked at her. “What do you mean?”

  “If it’s a trap, should we go another way?”

  “We don’t have a choice,” said Charlie. “We’re short on time as it is. Whatever she’s got in store, we’ll just have to deal with it.”

  Every bone in his body hurt, and riding horseback wasn’t exactly helping. Nash grimaced as his horse trotted over the rocky terrain that the ground had become. There were natural stones, but also large bricks of stone. Here and there leaned something that might have been a turret or, if it were smaller, a column. It looked like they were traveling through remains from an old fort or castle, lost to time.

  “You okay?” Darcy asked next to him, voice barely audible.

  A flood of colorful adjectives and words came to Nash’s mind to describe how he felt, but he simply shook his head. He wasn’t the only one who could complain.

  Chen had a broken nose. Priest, a cracked rib. Darcy had a horrible cough and was still feverish from Maurie’s Death Touch, as well as the hard rain the night before. Maurie herself swayed in the saddle, not injured so much as exhausted of energy and willpower. She had coughed up blood for a few hours after their ordeal with the kelpie. Only Derrick seemed to be in good health still, although he, Nash thought, wasn’t exactly the most useful person if a monster jumped out and waggled its ugly face at them.

  Wounded and miserable as they were, the group of Monster Hunters had attempted to wash themselves in the enchanted lake, hoping for their wounds to be healed as the kelpie’s had. The only thing they got, though, was wet.

  In answer to Nash’s meaningful silence, Darcy grimaced and nodded knowingly.

  “How much farther?” Chen asked, riding up next to Derrick.

  “There’s still a ways,” he said. “We’re quite off track of where I’d been. I never crossed this rocky path. But I know where Drakauragh is, and it’d be a straight shot from here.”

  “You’re sure, lad?” asked Priest.

  The young Irishman nodded.

  A tall stone wall stood to their right, blocking their way north. The eerie feeling of being watched erased any sense of peace they found in the quiet morning.

  Finally, they turned the corner of the wall, which ended in crumbled ruin. The uneven rocks beneath them gradually smoothed itself into a grassy field, and Nash looked to the sky, mouthing the words thank you.

  Up ahead, Priest said loud enough for everyone to hear, “Blast it all, and burn it, too.”

  In front of them, that wonderful grassy field that had soothed Nash’s mind was littered with mounds over five feet tall. They were spread as far as the eye could see in every direction ahead. Granted, the eye was limited by a light fog that still hung in the morning air, but not limited enough to comfort them.

  “This is bad land for us to travel over,” said Chen. “I sense much pain and sorrow here.”

  “Agreed,” said Priest. “These are burial mounds. We should find another way.” He looked to Maurie. Still unwell and too tired to speak, she nodded her assent.

  They went right first, as that should have still brought them closer to Drakauragh, travelling between the rocky ruins and the burial field. The field of mounds seemed to go on forever. After an hour of riding this way, they decided to turn back and try the other direction. Even though they sped their horses into a trot and rode for three more hours, there was no end to the field.

  “More enchantment?” Maurie asked, slumping in her saddle. Nash brought his horse next to her, afraid she might fall off at any time.

  “It’s most likely that you’re right,” said Priest. “But if there’s naught that we can do to get around it, we’ll just have to go through it.”

  “Go through that?” asked Derrick. “But all manner of faerie folk live in such mounds! It would be suicidal.”

  Priest sat up in his saddle, the fatigue seeping into his voice. “Lad, we tried! It’s obvious that the witches are having their way with us. All we can do is beat them at their own game.”

  He trotted forward a bit, then turned around on his horse, looking at everyone seriously.

  “There’s no telling what will happen if we set foot among these faerie hills,” he said. “But right now, we don’t have much of a choice. Here’s my only hope: Keep your horse from stepping so much as an inch onto any of these mounds. Do you all understand?”

  Darcy and Nash nodded with the others solemnly.

  They spread out in groups of two. Nash and Darcy to the left, Priest and Maurie in the middle, and Chen and Derrick to the right; pairs spread out through the field of burial mounds.

  The going was slow, and tense. Not one of the Hunters felt calm or at ease, not even Chen, as the mounds sat like land mines all around them.

  Darcy was the first one to sigh in relief when they could see enough through the mist to the end of the field.

  “That was horrible,” she whispered to Nash.

  “We’re not out yet, Darcy. Don’t let your guard down. Doesn’t it seem strange to you that the end is in sight already? Why would anybody bury people in such a thin strip of land?”

  No sooner had he spoken when a man pushed his way through one of the mounds of dirt, clawing out of the ground and gasping for air. Only he wasn’t exactly a man, and he didn’t need the air. The jagged tear that encrusted his neck with a necklace of blood made a whistling sound as he inhaled and exhaled.

  “What is that?” asked Darcy, her voice cracking.

  Two more of the burial mounds erupted, this time revealing a headless man and a woman with no eyes. She smiled with teeth as long as fingers.

  “Sluagh,” muttered Priest. “Sp
irits of the dead that couldn’t pass on, taken in by faerie kin and given to the devil. I’ve dealt with a few in my time. Never this many, and surely not together like this.”

  “It’s because of where we are,” Maurie said. “These ruins of this old fort was no doubt their home. What monster took them all to their graves, I wonder…” She trailed off, falling from her horse. A bony hand flew out of the ground, grabbing her coat and dragging her toward the mound it inhabited.

  Grunting in pain as he moved his cracked rib, Priest swung his sword downward, cutting the sluagh’s hand off halfway up the forearm. He jumped from his horse and tried to pick Maurie up.

  The group of Hunters rode through the mounds now to regroup around Priest. Darcy released a couple of arrows into the sluagh, but they were already dead and didn’t seem to care about crossbow bolts sticking from their shoulders and stomachs.

  As the others held them back, Nash got off and helped Priest to lift Maurie high enough to roll her onto Priest’s horse. Priest tied her horse to his own.

  “Strategy?” asked Chen.

  Priest chuckled. “Against sluagh? Outrun them.”

  A woman’s laughter, harsh and bitter, filled the air.

  “These you can’t outrun, my dear holy man.” She spat the title out like a rusty nail.

  The sluagh stopped their gnashing and movement, bowing their heads at the sound of the disembodied voice.

  “And to answer your questions,” she—whoever she was—continued, “I am the one responsible for the destruction of this little fort, and my sons killed all of the humans so foolhardy to build close to our land.”

  “You are a witch?” asked Priest.

  “Not just any witch, holy man. I am equal to the Sagemistress. Now, it is time for you to meet your fate. Watch the ultimate spell lain upon this field.”

  She cackled as bodies and sluagh began to slide together, some rising from the ground between them. Soon two pillars stood, made completely out of the undead, but more continued to come, savagely throwing themselves onto the pillars.

  The Hunters watched in a fascinated horror as the pillars became something very much like a pair of legs, and the bodies above formed themselves into a torso and giant, club-like hands. A head and a face complete with a gaping mouth made out of legs bending this way and that, and two giant, hollow eyes formed on top of its shoulders.