Moonshine Wizard

by Phillip Drayer Duncan

  Bert said, “I heard them as I made my way down the cave. I don’t think he had his fangs in long before I got there.”

  Arthur nodded. “You did good, Bert. You probably saved her life.”

  “What he did,” Larry said, “was violate a direct order from Carter. What’s the status of the damn suck heads?”

  “They’re dead,” Bert replied. “All but one. Their newest addition wasn’t feral yet. He’s unconscious. Still in the cave.”

  “You killed them all?” Barry asked from the ground. “You? By yourself?”

  “I didn’t have much of a choice. But no, not really. They turned on each other. I only killed a few of them.”

  Any one of these three wizards could’ve eradicated the nest of vampires without breaking a sweat. That wasn’t the case for Bert, or at least that wasn’t how they saw it. Bert was still a pup in the wizard world. His powers were child-like compared to the three wizards around him. In all actuality, the vampires might’ve taken him down if he hadn’t been able to convince them to turn against each other. It was a risky gamble, but he couldn’t wait while the poor girl was being eaten alive. Not when there was something he could do.

  “I think she’ll be all right,” Barry said. “I don’t think he injected her, just drained.”

  Experienced vampires, such as the one calling himself the Count, could control themselves when feeding. They didn’t just randomly run around turning every person they bit into a vampire. They could control it, and feed on people without infecting them. This meant the girl would remain human. The wizards would get her wounds treated, then help her forget, or misunderstand, what’d happened to her. People didn’t really want to know the supernatural world existed, so it was easy to convince them their horrifying experience was something else entirely, or that it never happened at all.

  “Then I guess my part in this is done.” Bert shrugged. “I’m going home.”

  “The hell you are, Waylon,” Larry said. “Not until Carter gets here. He’ll want to speak with you.”

  “No,” Bert replied, walking away.

  “That was an order!” Larry yelled.

  Bert turned and smiled at Larry. “In case you forgot, I’m not a deputy. I’m freelance. Or as you always call me, a mercenary. I don’t have to take orders from you unless we are on the job, and guess what... The job’s done.”

  Larry glared at him. “Carter isn’t going to be happy.”

  Bert chuckled. “When is he ever?” He turned and started walking again, then glanced once over his shoulder and said, “See you, Arthur.”

  Arthur shook his head. “See you, Bert.”

  Chapter 2

  Bert was jarred around as the tires of his dingy Blazer bounced through potholes on the old driveway, which was filled with big fat baseball-sized rocks, not gravel like a normal driveway. At some point in history someone had laid a small amount of concrete here and there. It may have helped at the time, but now it was busted up and only served to make the ride even worse. He always said he would get around to fixing it sometime, but sometime just never showed up.

  The field was even worse. The grass was grown up tall and desperately needed some care. No one had cut it in at least a year. At waist height, it was past the point of being mowed.

  There was a small trail where vehicles had driven along the wood line many times. Bert followed this trail, further crushing down the grass that desperately attempted to grow on the path.

  The moon reflected off his windshield as he drove, and he glanced up into the cloudless star-filled night, taking notice of the big white moon that always seemed to be staring back at him. It was near midnight at this point, but that was still early. He was more of a night person anyway.

  The Blazer was an old 77 model, rusty and faded. It was hand painted in the classic forest camouflage. The majority of the vehicle held together pretty well, considering its age and wear. Of course, it had a lot of help from zip ties and duct tape. This included one of the back windows, which was held in place with a generous amount of tape. Another of the back windows was a simple sheet of clear plastic. Bert had a piece of cardboard there originally, but it was starting to get cold, and the broken heater wouldn’t keep the vehicle warm, so he needed to keep in what heat he could. Fortunately, the engine tended to run warm and some of the heat came into the cab. The windshield had a large web crack running all the way across. The covering for the headlight on the passenger side had been replaced with the plastic from a two-liter of soda. A little piece of the old label still flapped when he drove. The license plate was duct taped on tight, and he didn’t figure it would ever go anywhere. He didn’t like to think the Blazer looked like a piece of junk, but rather, a battle worn tank.

  Looks weren’t everything, though. The engine was old, but had been well taken care of, and ran almost like new most of the time. It was the original engine, a 6.6 Liter 400 V8. It had power, and when it got going it had speed. It guzzled so much gas Bert sometimes felt personally responsible for climate change. Because of its powerful roar and its less than charming looks, it had been properly named the Beast.

  His home was built in the corner of the field with its backside to the woods. It was a fairly small home, but Bert didn’t require a lot of space. It had two bedrooms, one bathroom, a living room, and a kitchen.

  As he approached he noticed several vehicles parked in front of it, most of which he recognized. He couldn’t remember having plans. It was common for friends to come over on the weekends to drink beer, but this was an unusually large crowd.

  He jerked the Beast into park with some effort, growling as the transmission groaned. Then he turned the key and the roar died with a sigh. When he pulled the door handle he didn’t hear the click, so he let go then pulled it again. Still no click. He decided the name ‘The Beast’ was definitely appropriate. He shook his head and said to his vehicle, “You suck.”

  The vehicle didn’t answer, but the door handle continued not to work. He grabbed the window crank and used all his strength and body weight to get it turning. With a shriek the glass began slowly making its way down into the door, inch by inch. The window was almost down far enough for him to stick his arm through when it started to stick. He applied more pressure but the nob wouldn’t move.

  “Oh, come on!” He leaned up, took a deep breath, and then threw as much weight as he could into turning the crank. There was a snapping sound and the nob broke off completely. With the nob no longer supporting his weight he fell forward, his head pounding against the metal steering wheel. The horn sounded lightly then teetered out with a whine. Apparently, it wasn’t working anymore either.

  He held his breath for a moment to calm himself, then lightly touched his head. The knot wasn’t forming yet, but it was tender.

  He glanced over at the window. It had come down another inch or so. He slid his arm through and reached the outside door handle. Hoping for luck, he pulled on the handle and breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the click that would allow it to open.

  Finally, he hopped out, glad to be free from the prison of his vehicle. He glanced at his staff and sword in the seat. He could easily throw on a simple spell to conceal them from human eyes, but he knew Sharp would be curious to see what was going on inside. Bert decided it would be suitable to leave him sitting in the Beast alone, in retribution for the ‘jackass’ comment.

  As he walked toward the front door he heard mumbled voices, laughter, and music. Apparently, he was hosting a party he either didn’t remember, or hadn’t been invited to. He sighed. So much for a lazy night.

  He opened the door and entered his small home. People were everywhere. Some were stumbling around and laughing. Others were sprawled out on his couch. The majority of the noise came from the kitchen. Beer bottles, beer cans, and various other forms of trash were scattered around. All of the ashtrays were full, and the smoke couldn’t have been thicker if the house were on fire.

  His entrance was greeted with joy and various greeti
ngs were thrown in his direction. His friend Neil, a tall, skinny man, peered at him over a cigarette. Determining his eyes hadn’t deceived him, he stamped out his butt, lazily pulled himself off the couch, stumbled over to Bert, and threw his arms around him in a hug. He managed to slur out, “Hello Bert.”

  “Hi Neil,” Bert said with a chuckle. “Having fun?”

  Neil was a fairly handsome man, but neither Bert nor anyone else would tell him that because he never needed help feeding his ego. Beyond that, he wasn’t nearly as handsome as he already believed himself to be. He was taller than Bert, but thin as a twig with a little muscle on his frame. His boyish face was what he called charming, but most people thought his droopy eyes made him look like a stoner version of Lou Diamond Phillips. His hair was dark brown, and his skin had a dark tan shade which showed his Native American heritage. Neil claimed he was part Cherokee and several other tribes Bert couldn’t pronounce and wasn’t totally convinced were real.

  Neil wore brand new jeans which looked expensive, despite being pre-faded and torn. His shirt was a silky black button up that looked even more expensive than the jeans. He was all about some fashion statement that nobody seemed to appreciate. He’d say he only bought expensive clothes because they were the only ones that fit.

  Neil strolled around with a lackadaisical approach to life. This mentality carried him through hard times, but could also hamper his progress. He was often too proud to ask for help and too stubborn to admit when he was wrong. Once set on the path, he wouldn’t allow himself, or anyone else, to convince him differently, even if that path ran head on into a bus.

  Neil was also a wizard, but he rarely practiced magic anymore. He worked a full-time job as a deliveryman. He hated it with a passion, but with a wife and three kids to feed, he couldn’t give it up. This also meant he didn’t have time for wizarding.

  “Yup,” Neil stammered out, “we been waiting for you to get here.”

  “Have you?” Bert chuckled. “I can definitely tell.”

  Neil hiccupped. “Yeah.”

  Neil’s wife, Katie, a short blonde, promptly came over and grabbed him. “Honey, leave poor Waylon alone. He just got home!”

  “But...but...but I miss my friend!”

  “That doesn’t mean you have to put him in a stranglehold as soon as you see him.”

  Bert smiled. “It’s all right. It’s good to see you too, Neil. No little ones tonight?”

  Neil made an audible sound of glee and said, “Nope!”

  His wife glared at him and said, “No, we dropped them off with their grandparents. And, might I add, just for your special night!”

  “Special night?” Bert asked.

  “Uh, nothing,” Neil said. “So, let’s get you a beer, sir!”

  “All right,” Bert replied, curious about what she’d meant.

  They worked their way through various other friends and acquaintances, stopping here and there to say hello. As they approached the kitchen Bert realized why everyone was packed in there, though he still hadn’t figured out why so many people were in his house in the first place. Kevin and Jim were playing their guitars and singing, and people lined the perimeter of the kitchen to watch.

  Kevin was in the middle of a song as Bert entered the room. Upon spotting him, he stopped and said, “Bert!”

  Kevin was just a little taller than Bert and a couple of years older. He was broad shouldered and a little stocky, with long dirty blond hair he proudly let dangle to his shoulders. He also sported a goatee. As usual he wore light brown pants with a brown colored shirt. Kevin always favored earth tones for some reason. He dressed casually nice, but didn’t overdo it like Neil.

  Kevin was Bert’s go to guy for fixing things. The energy wizards manipulated to produce spells could interfere with electronics and mechanical devices. Small parts, springs, etc. could all be affected by the magical static. Even modern firearms would occasionally malfunction in the presence of a power wielding wizard. But Kevin’s wizard abilities were different than most. He didn’t affect magical energy the same way, which allowed him to get up close and personal with all the stuff Bert and the other guys broke. He also was especially adept at creating spells that would hold in place and nullify magical energy. This, along with the fact Kevin was a mechanic, was the only reason Bert had a working vehicle at all.

  Kevin’s face was generally very serious, almost to the point of looking angry, but when he was drinking he always bore a giant grin.

  “I see you have your perma-grin on tonight,” Bert said, smiling.

  “Yup!” Kevin agreed. “About time you got here!”

  The crowd roared their agreement. Bert shrugged at them. He certainly wasn’t about to say he was out fighting vampires while they were destroying his house.

  Jim had also stopped playing and chimed in, “Yeah, jerk!”

  Jim was tall and had a dark look. He was also a few years older than Bert. His hair was jet black and he wore a full but well-trimmed beard. He also wore thin-framed glasses. He had the look of someone that was used to wearing glasses, as if his face wouldn’t look right without them. His build was fairly average, neither skinny, fat, nor muscled. His clothes were casual and he wore a white fitted baseball hat, a brown long sleeve shirt, and some faded jeans.

  Along with his height and dark beard, Jim had a very deep voice that many people found intimidating. It only took getting to know him to realize he was about as mean as a teddy bear. Jim was always finding a way to make people laugh. He had a silver tongue which could convince a wise man that an extremely dumb idea was the best course of action. Then he would happily sit back as the devil’s advocate and enjoy the show.

  Jim was also someone Bert credited for having more common sense than the average person. He rarely found himself in stupid predicaments, but when he did his girlfriend was always around to document and share with others.

  “So, what’s this all about?” Bert asked.

  Kevin cocked an eyebrow at him and grinned. “You don’t know?”

  “No.”

  “It’s your birthday party! Or at least it was until you decided to not show until it was halfway over. There are people leaving!”

  Bert was dumbstruck for a moment before it came to him. His birthday was only a few days away. He’d completely forgotten.

  Someone handed Bert a beer as Kevin held his up own and said, “Here’s to you, bud!”

  Everyone in the room joined in on the toast. He knew he had Kevin to thank for this. Kevin was not only his roommate, but also the only one of his gang of friends he still saw on a regular basis.

  Bert was surprised Kevin had been able to get this many people to show up. His eyes scanned the room. He was extra surprised to see his friend Robert, and his friend Hunter along with his wife Allie. Robert gave him a simple nod and started working his way through the crowd. As he approached Bert he said, “Kevin said I had to stay at least until you showed up. I really have to run, though.”

  Bert nodded. “I completely understand. I’ll walk with you.”

  Bert and Robert worked their way back through the crowd and headed outside.

  Robert had several years on Bert, but his experiences in life had made him look even older. This was a fact Bert exploited at Robert’s expense regularly. Robert had been a full-time soldier in the Hand of Magic. He still swore it was the worst decision of his life. Most wizards never experienced the training, much less the combat, of a wizard soldier. He would never talk much about his time in the wizard army, but it hadn’t been a good experience.

  He didn’t practice magic much anymore with a wife, kid, and a full-time job, but the few times Bert had seen him in action, he’d been impressed. Bert had met Robert by doing jobs for Carter. For a while Robert helped with issues that came up, such as the vampire den Bert had faced earlier that night. Robert had a real problem with authority and being bossed around, so eventually he stopped even that. Anymore, his only involvement in the supernatural world was living vicariously
through Bert.

  Robert was a bit taller than Bert, and though he didn’t keep up with his training, he hadn’t let his build go completely to waste. He sported a little bit of a beer gut these days, but he didn’t seem to care.

  He was also an extremely competitive individual, with an intense demeanor. He wasn’t shy about being abrasive when he felt it was called for, and he didn’t get along with most people, but he and Bert had always remained close. In the summer months, they went fishing together, usually several times a week.

  Once they were to Robert’s truck, and no one else was around, Robert said, “So, what was the hold up tonight? Did you have trouble?”

  Bert told him about the vampires.

  Robert shook his head. “This time of year is extra special for the crazies. Sorry bud, don’t sweat it. Sounds like you did good. Don’t worry about Carter’s goons, dipshit Larry and douchebag Barry. Those two are morons. I don’t know how Arthur puts up with it.”

  Bert chuckled. “I don’t know, either. I’m not worried about it. If I hadn’t acted when I did that girl would be dead. I can’t really see how Carter can throw too much of a hissy, but if he does, well, I still get paid.”

  It was Robert’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, he’s a real asshole. Anyway man, happy birthday.” Robert got in his truck, lit a smoke, and looked back out the window. “Listen man, I know you don’t need me telling you, but be careful out there.”

  “I am, Robert. I know it’s a crazy time of year.”

  Robert shook his head. “No, there’s something else. I don’t know what it is, but I can feel it. I haven’t been out of the game that long. Something is brewing, Bert. Like I said, I don’t know what, but if I know you, you’re going to end up right in the middle of it.”

  Bert didn’t know what he meant, but he wasn’t going to disregard his advice. “I’m not completely reckless. I help where I can, but I know my limits. I’ll do my best to stay out of whatever it is.”