Moonshine Wizard

by Phillip Drayer Duncan

  “Not since the feud between the Hatfields and Mccoys, has anyone made a bunch of hillbillies interesting, and that’s just what Phillip Duncan did with Moonshine Wizard.”

  —Jason Fedora, The Truth of Betrayal

  “Witty, action-packed, and never one to shy away from the unexpected. Phillip Drayer Duncan is not to be missed.”

  —J.H. Fleming, Rhythms of Magic

  “Duncan’s brief, punchy chapters are flip-inducing as the eyes devour the words and demand the fingers to turn, turn, f*cking TURN! Echoing James Pattersons’ short-chapter, fingers-on-fire writing style, Duncan’s storytelling keeps it coming, maintaining reader interest with whatever awesomeness is currently unfolding as well as with the exciting promise of what’s around the corner, on the next page, in the next chapter.”

  — Kristofer Upjohn, Horror is Art

  Sign up for the Phillip Drayer Duncan Newsletter to receive a FREE digital copy of Catalysts, a collection of 3 stories from the Blade Mage & Moonshine Wizard series. With as much content as a full novel, this collection includes:

  The Generic Mage (The Blade Mage Series)

  The Last Great Blade Mage (The Blade Mage Series)

  The Hunt for the Dark Wizard (The Moonshine Wizard Series)

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  Also by Phillip Drayer Duncan

  The Blade Mage:

  The Blade Mage

  Of Song and Shadow

  The Memphis Knights

  Rebels and Outlaws

  Swords and Dust

  The Moonshine Wizard:

  Moonshine Wizard

  The Distilled Shorts Collection:

  First Job

  The Ogre & The Primates

  A Sword Named Sharp

  Hunting one Like Us

  The Monster Beneath the Bed

  The Hunt for the Dark Wizard

  Assassins Incorporated:

  Assassins Incorporated

  Assassins Incorporated: Rehired

  Copyright © 2013 Phillip Drayer Duncan – First Edition

  Copyright © 2020 Phillip Drayer Duncan – Third Edition

  All Rights Reserved.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without prior written consent of the copyright holder, except for the use of brief quotes in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living, dead, or otherwise, or resemblance to the names of people, places, or organizations, are the either product of the author's messed up imagination, or coincidental. While the copyright for this work of fiction remains with the author, Happy Omega Publishing, LLC assumes all legal responsibility for this publication and the literary work of fiction it contains.

  Paperback ISBN: 9798642748947

  Publisher: Happy Omega Publishing LLC

  Cover Art By: German Creative

  Interior Illustration: Tammy Hawkins

  Interior Photography: Phillip Drayer Duncan

  Edited By: J.H. Fleming

  A Note from the Author:

  If you wish to support your favorite authors, the best way is to buy their books brand-spanking-new when you can afford to. If you can’t afford to, then this author supports you buying used books. In which case, you can still help your favorite authors by raving about their books to your friends and family. If you can't afford to purchase at all, feel free to stop by PhillipDrayerDuncan.com, where I usually have some FREE content available. And if there's a title of mine you really want to read, but just can't afford it, feel free to reach out through my Contact page and we'll see if there's something we can do.

  PhillipDrayerDuncan.com

  Happy Omega Publishing

  Chapter 0

  He prayed a second death wouldn’t claim him. He prayed to no particular god, because if there was a god, he’d damned him long ago. He prayed simply because in his first life that was what he did when he was afraid. Now in his second life he prayed to no one, hoping simply to not die again. He wasn’t a well-educated man on the matter of death, but he was fairly confident if he died again it’d be final. He’d narrowly escaped his trip to Hell once. He didn’t believe he’d be so lucky twice.

  The hunter’s moon glared at him through the trees, the chilly autumn wind nipping at his neck. The dark forest around him served as the catalyst to his terror. From every side he felt eyes were upon him, watching his every move and waiting for an opportunity to strike. In each shadowed corner loomed the possibility of an interloper. With each trembled step, he swore he could hear something behind him. He found himself swirling around to face whatever foe may be hunting him only to snarl into nothing but darkness.

  An owl let out a soft hoot and he stumbled. The knots in his stomach tightened and he suppressed the urge to vomit. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, shivers running down his spine. He wanted to stop. He wanted to drop his package and run. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He couldn’t allow himself to give in to fear.

  He kept his feet moving, pushing ever onward. He always felt this way after a hunt. The adrenaline rush carried him right through it, the pleasure of taking down his prey a sweet savor in his mind. The power he felt over his victims gave him a sense of domination he’d never known. After the hunt the adrenaline wore off. Each time as he returned home he wondered if they knew yet. Was he being followed?

  The only thing that kept him going, the only thing that kept him together, was he knew someday he wouldn’t have to be afraid. One day, he’d be powerful like the others.

  The chilly autumn breeze ripped across his face like razors. He thought once again about pulling his hood up tightly around his head, but he feared it’d dampen his hearing. In a way, he was glad he was cold, with shivering hands and a bright red runny nose. These were symptoms from his first life. Soon enough, as he too transitioned into a being of power, the cold wouldn’t bother him anymore.

  He glanced back over his shoulder again for any signs of pursuit. There were none, but the woodlands were thick. Even if someone were following him he doubted he’d see them. His night eyes weren’t particularly strong, and the Ozark Mountain forests were thick enough for a man to disappear and never be found.

  He’d have to rest soon. The large bundle was heavy, and he’d traveled a great distance this evening. He wasn’t a large man, and he certainly wasn’t an athlete; he was scrawny and malnourished. His greasy hair hung to his shoulders in rank clumps. His facial hair grew in oily patches, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d bothered shaving. For that matter, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d showered. His pale white skin hid under layers of dirt and soot. He looked like a drug addict and a bum, which conveniently enough, was exactly what he was in his first life. He’d been about to end it all when they found him: when they gave him a second chance. They gave him a reason to live. They gave him a purpose.

  He stepped over a big rock and grunted, dragging the bundle over it as well. From the bag came a yelp of pain, followed by sobbing. He dropped the sack and spun around. “I told you to keep your damn mouth shut!”

  He kicked the bundle squarely in what he guessed was the girl’s mid-section. He smiled as he heard her gasping for air. That will show her, he thought. Instead she cried louder. He shook his head in frustration and grabbed the bundle again.

  Her muffled voice pleaded with him, “Please...please!”

  He shook his head, regretting not having gagged her, and with a grunt, commenced dragging her.

  She continued her plea with, “What do you want from me?”

  His laughter was a decaying raspy sound. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  “But, but, I’m not even very pretty!” She was wailing now.

  H
e chuckled at her. “It’s not about sex.”

  That was a lie, but he was trying his best to overcome his human nature. That was also why he hadn’t shot up today, a decision he was very much regretting.

  “I...I don’t understand,” she said through the tears.

  “Like I said, you will soon enough.”

  “Why? Why are you doing this to me?”

  He spun around and dropped his face next to where hers was outlined through the material. Close enough she could smell his putrid breath slithering into her nostrils. It had an inhuman stink of death and decay. She gagged and tried to pull away. He wouldn’t allow it.

  His face still inches from hers, he said, “Because we need to eat, too!”

  Not understanding, yet in fear for her life, the girl began crying harder. He slapped her face. The impact was muffled by the soft material between his hand and her skin, but his point was made.

  He was close to home and he wanted to get the girl quiet before he arrived. It wouldn’t look good if he showed up with his victim screaming bloody murder. Thinking about that reminded him how afraid he was again. Looking all around for any signs of a pursuer, he began moving toward the cave, his eyes still scanning the forest around him.

  ***

  When he finally arrived at the cave he was ready to drop from fatigue, but the hunger kept him going. He wound through the long slender corridor until he came out into the large cavern. There was a small fire burning in the middle of the floor, seven people in rags huddled around it. They looked like a band of bums sitting around a campfire, or maybe even cavemen in their disheveled attire. Appearances didn’t matter to them anymore, except for the leader, who stood out by wearing an old, faded tuxedo. He had grayish hair and a plain face. All eyes turned to him.

  The man stood before his leader, staring nervously at the floor, for he wouldn’t dare meet his gaze. The master appeared to be around fifty years of age, but from the stories he occasionally shared with his underlings, they knew he was much older.

  “Have you completed your mission, Randy?” his master asked.

  Randy was his human name, given to him by his worthless parents who’d abandoned him to the streets when he was a child. He hated that name. When he’d completely undergone his transformation, he’d no longer have need of a human name. Until then, he was still Randy.

  He dropped to his knee. “Yes, my Count.”

  He shivered as he felt the Count’s eyes peer down at him. He was a low life druggie who’d never accomplished anything in his life, but now he served the most powerful man in the world. He served the one and only mythical Count Dracula, and when the Count rebuilt his army, he’d be right there with him. He may even get to be a general. The Count had told them his armies had been destroyed in a great war. Since then he’d been in hiding, but now he was slowly rebuilding. He chose his subjects carefully. It had to be a slow process, and they couldn’t draw attention to themselves, for the Count had many powerful enemies.

  “You are late, my child,” he said.

  Randy chanced a brief glance up and blurted out, “My apologies, my lord.”

  “Apologize not only to me, but to the entire family for keeping them waiting.”

  He felt himself trembling. “I apologize, my brothers and sisters.”

  They stared at him but didn’t reply. Most of them didn’t speak often. Some of them never spoke at all. They were the ones who’d been with the Count the longest. Perhaps they didn’t feel the need to communicate like weak humans anymore, and never let out more than a growl. They were terrifying individuals and he knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that they’d take great pleasure in ripping him to shreds. He was in the Count’s favor, though, and they obeyed his will without question.

  He still couldn’t figure out what it was the Count saw in him, or why he’d chosen him. Randy had never amounted to anything in his life, yet here he was. The loyal servant of a living god.

  The Count reached down and grabbed Randy’s chin, tipping it up toward him, and said, “You didn’t feed on the prey, did you?”

  “No my lord, she is as you commanded!”

  “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

  “No, my lord! Never!”

  His hand came to rest on Randy’s shoulder. “Then you have done well, my child.”

  Turning to the others he said, “Let’s see what our little brother has brought us for dinner.”

  Several of the vampires moved to the bundle and began untying it. But as she was revealed, they backed away uneasily, casting sideways glances at one another.

  They turned and faced the Count. The Count’s brow lowered as he walked over to girl. He looked down at her and she stared back in undisguised horror. He helped her into a sitting position as she continued crying and trembling. He gently stroked her cheek and wiped a tear away.

  “How old are you, my dear?” he said in a calming, friendly voice.

  “Six…sixteen.”

  He smiled at her and stood up, slowly turning and walking back over to Randy.

  Before he knew what happened, Randy was lying on the floor and staring at the ceiling. His face hurt from where he’d been punched and he became acutely aware of a pressure on his throat. He looked up to realize the Count had a foot planted squarely on his neck.

  “You imbecile! How many times must I tell you to never take a child? It won’t take them long to notice this young one is missing, and then they will have search parties out looking for her. We take only the old. They don’t care about their old.”

  “I know, my lord...” he croaked, struggling for air. “But you said we’d be leaving tomorrow and...”

  “And what?”

  “And I wanted to bring you a special gift!”

  “Indeed?” the Count’s hungry eyes turned on the heavyset female.

  Randy continued, “And she’s perfect. Young and fat. Her meat is tender!”

  The Count licked his lips, still staring at the girl. “When did I command you to think?”

  “You didn’t, my lord.”

  “And yet you decided to take it upon yourself to do just that.”

  “I’m sorry, my lord!”

  “Sorry? You’re sorry? Sorry doesn’t keep our enemies from finding us, you wretch!” The Count spun, facing the others. “Sorry will not keep us alive. Sorry will not keep us hidden from our enemies. Do you think I jest? There is not a creature alive powerful enough to challenge me, but you, my children, are not yet powerful enough to survive in the open.”

  He was silent for a moment, staring at each of his followers before continuing. “Someday...we will roam freely. Our enemies will bow before us, and we will destroy any who oppose us. We will raise them like the mindless cattle they are, and feast on only the most tender and healthy. We will have the pick of the litter. We will be kings and we will own this land. But, for now, we must be careful.”

  They all bowed to him in unison, for he was their god and his word was law. They lived and died by his hand. Randy was thankful to still be alive. He knew it could’ve meant his death, but he’d also known it could mean a special place at the side of his lord, and that was worth the risk.

  The Count continued speaking as he walked back toward the girl. “Now then, my brethren...let us dine.”

  The circle closed around the girl and she was shoved to the ground. They laughed and licked their lips, excitement coursing through their bodies. She began crying again, trembling in fear and begging them not to hurt her. This only further drove their desire to consume her. Her terror was exhilarating, and it filled them with a sense of power, a sense of domination.

  Randy stared at the scene, his stomach growling impatiently. The Count would go first. He always went first. One bite on the neck and he’d get his fill of the human’s lifeblood. When he was done, the others would literally tear the girl to pieces. Randy would get his turn last, for he was the lowest member of the group. He’d be left with scraps and bones to clean.

  The Coun
t grabbed the girl and pulled her to him. He leaned toward her face as if to kiss her, but instead his lips went to her neck. Long canine teeth showed for a flash before they disappeared into her soft skin. The girl’s eyes went wide with shock. Her lips quivered and tears ran down her cheeks. Her skin paled as the Count began to drain her lifeblood.

  The Count pulled away, lifting his bloody chin from her neck. He turned her face to his and met her eyes. With confident pride, he said, “Fear not, my child, for your lifeblood, your body, is being sacrificed to feed gods. You are feeding a dynasty.”

  Pride surged through the Count’s followers. Randy smiled again, feeling at home for the first time in his life. He believed his master. Someday they’d be kings! Someday they’d bring back to life the dynasty of the one and only Count Dracula.

  But from somewhere up the cave an unfamiliar voice echoed down to them. A young man’s voice, which dared mock his master’s words. “Gods? A dynasty? Well, that’s just precious.”

  The vampires turned to face the unknown entity who dared insult their master. Randy was excited to see how his master would handle this threat, but what he saw did not bolster his confidence. The Count backed to the cave wall and looked around as if to find an escape route. Fear clutched him. Whatever was coming down that narrow cavern made the one and only Count Dracula tremble in fear.

  His stomach tied in knots as he awaited the approach of this powerful being. The soft footsteps got closer and closer, echoing quietly in the cavern. A lifetime passed as he waited to see what would come.

  Randy wasn’t sure what he expected, but the man who approached their fire certainly wasn’t it. What stood before them was a young man in his mid-twenties. He was broad shouldered and on the short side of average height. He was well muscled, and had a stout look, if not slightly overweight.