Moonshine Wizard

by Phillip Drayer Duncan

  He wore tennis shoes, old faded jeans, and a gray thermal undershirt with a simple black t-shirt over top. His brown hair was cut short and messy. It looked like he’d just crawled out of bed. He had a scraggly goatee and the rest of his face hadn’t been shaved in at least a few days. He fell just short of handsome, with a face that lacked many distinguishing characteristics.

  In one hand the man carried a long wooden staff, which he had slung over his shoulder lazily. Strapped across his back was what appeared to be a sword in a straight scabbard. The handle of the sword was carved in what looked like black ebony. He couldn’t see the carvings from that far, but the bottom of the hilt was a dragon’s head.

  He stood in front of them nonchalantly, as if he were taking a stroll through the park. If the man felt any danger from having walked into a nest of vampires, he sure didn’t act like it.

  The Count tried to back away, but the cave wall stopped him. His face twisted in horror and he stammered out, “You...you are not welcome here!”

  “Oh?” replied the young man with a shrug. “Then I’ll leave.”

  The Count didn’t speak.

  The man nodded toward the girl and continued, “But she’s coming with me.”

  There were growls all around. The man grinned.

  The Count cried, “But we have to eat!”

  The man ignored this comment and looked the Count up and down. “Why are you wearing a tuxedo?”

  The Count, realizing he was losing face in front of his underlings, regained his composure and said, “Your kind isn’t welcome here! Leave now!”

  “Are you...?” The man laughed.

  The vampires growled, muscles tensing as they prepared to pounce.

  This was one of the strangest things Randy had ever seen. He’d been surprised to find out vampires were real, but it didn’t strike him as too crazy. He was happy when he was asked to join them. But to see a twenty something year old man come strolling into a nest of vampires led by the Count himself, and to be giggling… It was too much.

  Another strange thought struck him. Maybe it was just the intensity of the situation, but he could swear the room had felt different since the man entered. He couldn’t exactly put his finger on it, but the air felt thicker and heavier, with a static quality to it. His hair stood on end like he’d just run a balloon over it. The fire seemed to burn a little brighter, but he passed it off as a result of the growing tension.

  The man calmed his laughter and looked back up at the Count. “Are you really doing the whole Count Dracula bit?”

  The Count glared at the man. “You need to leave now!”

  “Not only are you playing the Count Dracula role, but you actually sold it well enough in that cheap ass tux for these schmucks to believe you!”

  The man shook his head.

  The vampires looked at each other, a little unsure of themselves. Randy didn’t know what to think.

  The Count seized the opportunity. “My people are not so simple as to fall for your deceits, Death Bringer!”

  “Death Bringer? Now that’s a new one,” the man said. Then he looked at their feet, pointing his staff at a large pile of human bones sitting in the corner. “That’s a lot of human bones.”

  He wasn’t smiling anymore.

  “We will kill you if you don’t leave this instant!” threatened the Count.

  The humor disappeared from the man’s face. What took its place was a coldness that left Randy feeling more than a little frightened. Chills ran down his spine. It now felt like a breeze was blowing through the cavern. Every hair on his body stood at salute. Maybe his imagination was running wild, but it seemed like the man’s eyes were glowing.

  “What have you done here?” he asked. “You lied to them. You told them you’re Dracula, that they should worship you. You turned them into vampires illegally. And then, to top it off, instead of just sucking the blood, you had them feed on the flesh.”

  “But—”

  “You probably told them they weren’t ready to sustain themselves on just blood, that only you could, knowing full well that any vampire who ate a diet of flesh would become a mindless savage beast.”

  “There wasn’t enough for everyone! I didn’t know—”

  “Really? That’s the card you’re going to play?” The man smiled at the Count. “And you also knew the consequences of your actions. Tell them. Tell them what you’ve done to them.”

  The Count yelled, “No, I won’t!”

  “Then I will,” the man said. He looked around the room at each of them. “This vampire is not Count Dracula. He’s just a vampire. He’s nothing special. He thought he was, so he decided he didn’t have to play by the rules.”

  He paused momentarily to let it sink in. Randy didn’t want to believe this man. He wanted very much for it to all be a lie. But he’d noticed some of what the man spoke of. The oldest members of the group were the most savage, rarely spoke, and the Count had told them they couldn’t sustain themselves on blood.

  The man continued, “The kicker, though, is the part he never told you. When a vampire eats nothing but flesh, especially when they are first changing, they can’t come back from the road of savagery. Humans, vampires, every other species, and the authorities from the Hand of Magic, agree on the only solution.” He spread his arms and sighed. “Your master has condemned you all to death.”

  They turned and faced the being they worshiped as their lord. The great Count Dracula. He trembled in fear, screaming, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  The vampires stood, unsure of what to do next. One said, “You lie.”

  The man looked at the vampire, shrugged, and said, “Perhaps, but I don’t think you believe that.”

  Some of them growled at their master. Others growled at the ones growling at the master, as if in his defense.

  “The irony, of course, is that because of what you’ve turned them into, they can’t stop themselves from what they’re going to do to you.”

  “Please,” the vampire who wasn’t Count Dracula said. “I’m sorry! I’ll let you take me into custody!”

  The man just stood there, silently watching.

  “You have to protect me. That’s your job, isn’t it? As an agent of the Hand of Magic, you must protect me!”

  “Just like you protected them? Just like you protected all the people you’ve murdered?” the man replied. “I’m not actually a card-carrying member of the Hand of Magic. More of a consultant, though admittedly some have called me mercenary, or even bounty hunter. I don’t mind bounty hunter. Has a nice ring, you know? So anyway, I’m going to have to go with...nah... You built this boat. Sink in it, fuck head.”

  The volume of the growls grew until it was hard to hear over the humming echo it created within the cave.

  “Please! They are going to kill me!”

  Before the would-be Count could speak again, one of his followers pounced. The vampire landed on his master, teeth bared. Another, more loyal follower, sprang to his master’s defense. Within the blink of an eye the vampires were tearing each other apart.

  The young man turned toward the girl. She was out cold.

  He looked back at the fray of vampires, and so did Randy. A few of them had remained loyal to the master, but most turned against him. It didn’t appear that sides mattered now, though. At the bottom of the pile was the vampire they’d called master. His screams were far louder and more horrifying than the screams of any of the victims they’d killed.

  The air in the room became even thicker. Every hair on Randy’s body felt like it’d shoot across the room. He looked at the young man again, who held the staff in front of him parallel to his body. The blank wood now had symbols from end to end, glowing in bright blue light. Sparks and electricity flowed around the man. The craziest thing was his eyes, which were glowing now, practically bursting from their sockets with neon blue flames.

  The hilt of the sword could be clearly seen now as well. The eyes of the dragon were glowing bright blue just
like the man’s. The ebony dragon’s head remained the same, but the carvings were changing. From this distance, it was hard to make out details, but it appeared the handle of the sword was constantly changing between carvings of various battle scenes. Randy had never seen anything like it.

  One of the vampires on top of the pile noticed the young man and turned to face him. As he prepared to attack the young guy pointed the tip of his staff at him. As the vampire pounced a ball of white light outlined in blue shot from the staff and punched into his body, carrying him back to the pile. The whole heaping pile of vampires lit up in a ball of white light. It arced in every direction as if it were lightning, and as the bolts hit near Randy’s feet he realized that was exactly what it was. His body shook and he fell to the floor, numb all over. He’d been hit with a tazer once while trying to steal a woman’s purse. This was much worse.

  It was over in a moment that lasted a lifetime. On the ground now, Randy looked up to see that most of his brothers were no longer moving. Three of them were on their feet, however, and they surrounded the young man. Surely at least one of them would kill him, he thought.

  They charged.

  The young man pulled the sword from the sheath. The blade gleamed in the firelight as he put it to work. He swung it behind him, slicing the first of his brothers in half, as though the sword were swinging through mere air. He then swung it back around to the front, decapitating the next with equal ease. The third, realizing his peril, turned to run. The young man shook his head and shoved his staff between the fleeing vampire’s legs, tripping him. Before he could crawl away the man was above him and brought the sword down straight through the vampire’s back.

  Randy watched in horror as the last of his brothers died screaming. The sword had cut through their flesh effortlessly. It was as if there hadn’t even been flesh and bone where the blade struck. He swallowed deeply, not sure what to do. Not sure what to think. He was angry. He knew that. A part of him wanted to last out. To try to kill this man. He didn’t think he could, but he sure wanted to try.

  The man walked over to the pile of bodies. Raising his sword, he ran it deep into the pile of dead vampires, making sure they were in fact dead. Then his gaze fell on Randy, who dragged himself to his feet.

  The young man pointed his staff at him. “And then there’s you.”

  “What about me?”

  “You haven’t been with them long.”

  “So, that means you save the weakest for last?”

  “If I was planning on killing you, you’d be dead,” the man replied with a careless shrug.

  “You’re not going to kill me?”

  “Well, that all depends on you.”

  “How so?”

  “You’re not a vampire, but you will be soon. Because you’re not completely a vampire, the fact that you’ve eaten flesh hasn’t completely distorted your mind. You get the option to live. Of course, breaking the habit of eating flesh is tough. It’s like trying to kick a nasty drug addiction.”

  “I wasn’t ever very good at kicking my drug habits.”

  “Most people aren’t.”

  “I don’t understand any of this,” Randy said, a bitter taste in his mouth.

  “You can feel sorry for yourself, or you can make a decision. Life or death.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Me neither.”

  “You’re a bastard.”

  “Yes I am.”

  “Well, what happens if I choose to live?”

  “There are other vampires who will help you through your transition. You’ll find yourself a place among them, much like you did here. But you will never kill another person, so long as you live. You will never eat flesh again. If you can live with that, you’ll come outside with me. If you can’t, then you’ll attack me.”

  Randy wasn’t sure what to do, but he knew how much he’d come to love the hunt, and how much the taste of raw human flesh had grown on him. He’d been nothing before the Count took him in. Hell, he’d been trying to commit suicide. They’d offered him a new life. And it’d all fallen apart in seconds. Now he was back where he started, and he didn’t know if he could go on. The man was right. It was just like the meth addiction he’d struggled with. He knew he couldn’t beat it.

  “I can’t...” Randy pleaded, looking down at the floor. “Just kill me.”

  The man swung his staff, hitting Randy in the head. It cracked against his skull with more force than his master’s fist. He went down clutching his head in pain. The staff came down again and again.

  He tried to roll away and stammered out, “Wouldn’t it be quicker to use the sword?”

  The man stopped for a second and looked down at him. “Yeah, it probably would be...if I was actually going to kill you. Now move your hands so I can knock you out.”

  “What?”

  But the staff came down into his vision. Pain seared through his brain, stars filled his eyes. He began losing consciousness. The last thing he heard before he passed out was the man’s voice. It sounded like he called him a moron, but he couldn’t be sure.

  Chapter 1

  The cave was silent. The floor was lined with bodies, but none moved. He held still for a few moments, scanning the floor and listening.

  Then he slid his sword back in its straight black scabbard, glancing at its handle as he did so. The small fire let off enough light that he could see the intricate carvings change into a mosaic of the battle which just occurred, adding a new story to its collection. He attached both the staff and sword to his back.

  A voice spoke into his mind. “Fine Bert, I guess you didn’t get yourself killed. I still say it was an asinine idea to come in here alone.”

  The voice couldn’t be heard outside his own head. He wasn’t actually crazy, or at least he didn’t think he was. The voice belonged to his sword. He wasn’t exactly sure it was alive, but it certainly had a personality. It could speak into his mind, and he could communicate back the same way.

  “We’ve been through worse, Sharp,” Bert communicated back silently.

  “That doesn’t make it any better, jackass.”

  He ignored the sword, but knew it was right. It had been a dumb decision, but if he hadn’t moved when he did the girl would be dead, if she wasn’t anyway.

  He walked over to check on her.

  ***

  A cool breeze hit Bert’s face as he exited the cave. The trees around him swayed and groaned. Leaves fell gently from branches, soaring lightly to the ground like miniature parachutes. The ground was full of dead foliage from this year and the years past. Autumn was certainly in full effect in the Ozarks, warning all living things that winter was just around the corner.

  His eyes were well adjusted to the darkness from the cave, and that, along with the bright hunter’s moon staring down at him, made it possible to see. He was thankful because bearing the full weight of the unconscious female between his arms was challenging enough without the added concern of elusive forest debris.

  This time of year was a pain for those who lived in the supernatural world. He glanced up at the moon. Cursed Hunter’s moon. They said the crazies came out for a full moon, and they were certainly correct. It wasn’t even full yet, and already rogue vampires were running amuck.

  Through the trees he heard voices and moved toward them. Before he entered the clearing, he heard a man say, “If that idiot got himself killed I’m going to laugh.”

  Another male voice responded, “Perhaps if we went into the cave we would find out and, you know, stop that from happening.”

  The first voice responded, “No, we have our orders. I’m not sticking my neck out for that worthless idiot.”

  A third man’s voice entered the conversation. “Yeah, Waylon’s nothing but trouble. We’d all be better off if he weren’t around. I mean, he makes moonshine in his spare time. Who does that? It’d save us the trouble from having to put him down ourselves one of these days.”

  Bert stepped into the clearing, bu
t they didn’t notice him yet. They were referring to him by his first name rather than Bert, like his friends called him.

  The man who’d been defending him said, “Look guys, I know you don’t like Bert. You’ve never made a secret of that, but he must’ve had a reason to go in there alone. He wouldn’t have just gone running in. You know he’s smarter than that. We need to find out what’s going on.”

  The man’s name was Arthur, and of the three wizards standing there, he was the only one Bert could call a friend. He was a mountain of a man, weighing around four hundred pounds, and standing a little over six feet tall. He had a friendly face and a large baritone voice. He wore wire-rimmed glasses, a blue collared shirt, and tan slacks. He was exceptionally intelligent and a fairly powerful wizard. He was also very dangerous, as were the other wizards standing with him.

  They were named Larry and Barry. Larry was tall and thin as a rail. Barry was short and fat. They were both in their late thirties to early forties. Larry had a wiry rodent face with a ridiculous mustache. Barry had a fat, unpleasant face which seemed to meld disgustingly well with his balding head.

  They were both deputies of a sort in the local branch of the Hand of Magic. Arthur was a junior deputy, so his word didn’t carry much weight with those two. They were second in command only to their boss Carter, the self-proclaimed local sheriff of the supernatural community. Bert didn’t know if the Hand of Magic had actually given Carter the title, but he did have the authority. Along with many people in the supernatural community, they detested Bert with every fiber of their being.

  Larry said, “No, absolutely not. We aren’t going in until Carter gets here. If Waylon is a vampire chew toy, that’s his damn pro...”

  They finally noticed Bert approaching.

  “I’m fine,” Bert replied. “I’m not sure about her, though. She needs medical attention.”

  “Set her down,” Barry said. “I’ll have a look.”

  Bert complied and laid the girl gently on the grass. Barry took vitals and assessed her bite. Bert didn’t credit the two with any more intelligence than they’d been crediting him, but they did have their uses. They were far more powerful with magic than he, and were both trained to handle these types of things.