Moonshine Wizard

by Phillip Drayer Duncan

  ***

  Bert power-slid up Hunter’s shitty driveway and came to a stop next to his trailer. As he hopped out of the Beast, Allie ran outside to meet him with their two little girls in tow.

  “How is he?” Bert asked.

  “I don’t know. He won’t let me call an ambulance. He just kept telling me to call you.”

  “Well, let me go take a look,” Bert said, unsure what else to do.

  Bert opened the door and stopped dead in his tracks. There was a crackling static in the air, raising the hackles on his neck. The sense was all too familiar. Magical energy. A lot of it, and it seemed to be emanating from his friend, flowing from him as he lay on the couch in agony.

  Hunter clutched his chest as though he were having a heart attack. His face was red, veins bulging from his forehead like they were about to pop. His blood shot eyes stared into space as tears streamed down his cheeks. He didn’t seem to notice Bert’s arrival, or Allie and the kids when they came in behind him.

  With each labored breath, his back pulsed. His shoulders seemed abnormally large, and… Was his forehead misshapen? It seemed slightly distorted, as though it were growing, or stretching.

  “Oh, shit,” Bert heard himself say, then with his mind said, “Sharp?”

  “Bert, get the kids out the house,” Sharp commanded. “Now.”

  Without question, he took Allie by the arm and guided her toward the door. “Take the kids outside.”

  Allie complied, Bert right behind her.

  “Where are your keys?” Bert asked as they made it to the lawn.

  “I, uh–” She pointed back at the house. “They’re inside.”

  He tossed her his keys. “Take the Beast and go to my house. Don’t come back until I call you.”

  “I can’t leave my husband.”

  “Allie, I’m begging you,” he said. “I need you to trust me.”

  “Are we in danger?” she asked. “He’s just sick.”

  “It’s more than that,” he said, answering her second question but not the first.

  She stared at him, unsure. “I’ll need the car seats for the girls.”

  “Uh, Bert,” Sharp interjected. “I sense a lot of energy coming from the house, and it’s–”

  “Shut up, Sharp!”

  Bert grabbed the car seats out of Allie’s SUV and carried them to the Beast, trying to figure out how to install them. Allie took over and began buckling the girls in.

  “Bert, we don’t have time for this,” Sharp said.

  Bert ignored him and let her finish, then held the driver door open for her.

  “I’ll call you as soon as possible,” he promised. “Just go.”

  “Do you know what’s wrong with him?” she asked.

  “I’m not positive,” he said, then added, “but you did the right thing. Now I need you to trust me. Go.”

  “Bert, please take care of him,” she said, crying. “I can’t live without him.”

  “You won’t have to,” he said, meeting her gaze. “Now go.”

  The Beast roared to life and she headed down the driveway. Bert turned back toward their home. From within, Hunter’s moans had transitioned into low growls.

  He wasn’t sure what was happening to Hunter. That hadn’t been a lie. But he did have a pretty damned good idea, and if he was right, then his last statement might have been a lie.

  Using his will and a little magic, he called out to Uncle Tony. There was no response. He waited a few seconds and tried again. Still no response. Then he practically shouted it. “Charles Anthony Pair!”

  “Yes?” replied the voice. “You need something?”

  “I need help.”

  “What kind of help? I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

  “In the middle of what?”

  “A goddamned war, kid. What do you need?”

  “My friend is in trouble,” Bert replied. “Wait, did you say you’re in the middle of a war?”

  “No, I said I was in the middle of a goddamned war. Something you wouldn’t know anything about because you’re barely out of diapers.”

  “Seriously, I need your help as soon as possible.”

  “All right, let me finish up and I’ll be there.”

  “Thank you.”

  Tony didn’t reply and the communication ended.

  Bert sighed, unsure if Tony would make it in time. His uncle would come, for sure, but if he was really caught up in a goddamned war, how long would it take? Longer than Bert had. He’d have to handle this on his own.

  He took a deep breath and stepped inside. The house had an eerie calm to it, and he realized Hunter was silent. That was peculiar. He gripped his staff with both hands, unsure how to proceed.

  “What are you doing?” Sharp asked. “Clowns weren’t bad enough? Do you know what that thing is? You need to tuck your tail and run.”

  “I know it’s one of my best friends, so we aren’t running.”

  “I don’t think you understand what’s happening here. The magical energy that’s choking your senses is not of the friendly variety. You are in over your big dumb head. Again.”

  “Is what I think is happening, happening?”

  “Yes, Hunter is turning into a–” He didn’t finish.

  Hunter rose from behind the couch, his clothes torn to shreds. His already muscular frame had become the silhouette of a professional bodybuilder, and he stood at least two feet taller. His biceps were bigger than Bert’s head, and still growing. His whole body seemed to be covered in fur, which grew thicker by the moment. His features were distorted, his nose taking the shape of a snout and his teeth growing long and sharp. Saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth. And his once blue eyes were now black as death and staring straight at Bert.

  “So, he’s a were-creature?” Bert asked, keeping his eyes locked on Hunter.

  “Oh, he’s a were-critter, but not like the garden variety canines who run the streets of Eureka Springs. This is the real deal, Bert.”

  “Wait, are you telling me he’s an actual werewolf?” Bert asked. He’d never seen an actual werewolf. Sure, he’d met lots of dogs, and even a cat or two, but never an honest to god werewolf.

  “No, not a wolf,” Sharp said. “And again, I implore you to run, moron.”

  “I’ve dealt with were-creatures before,” Bert said and began drawing magical energy.

  Hunter growled, as if he somehow knew what Bert was doing.

  “And now you’ve officially got his attention,” Sharp said. “Good luck, idiot.”

  “A moment ago you told me to run.”

  “That was when you still had a chance. Now you’ve pissed it off and you’re about to be its dinner.”

  “How the hell did it know I was drawing power?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because it’s a super powerful being who makes you look about as tough as a butterfly. Bert, read my nonexistent lips... This is the real thing. A true, honest to God, lycanthrope.”

  “Okay, but it’s still transforming. It’s not at full strength, right?” Bert asked, wishing he’d paid more attention to his lessons on mythical creatures. There was a local group of were-dogs he interacted with occasionally. They were tough puppies, but they couldn’t sense magical energy. He’d never met any were-critter who could.

  “Technically, but that’s not saying much,” Sharp replied. “Listen Bert, the were-dogs you know, well, the magic that lets them transform is diluted like a fruity mix drink. Sure, they can change into a dog. Big whoop. Neat for them, but they aren’t powerful. Their magic is old deteriorated weak sauce. But, the being staring at you like you’re a tasty sausage right now… It’s a true lycanthrope. The type of creature the stories are based on. Its magic is pure, like your moonshine. One hundred and eighty proof pure grain alcohol.”

  “Oh,” Bert replied, the concept finally sinking in. Perhaps Sharp was right. “So, on a scale of hipster mages to clowns, just how screwed am I?”

  “Well, I haven’t seen
a true lycan in over a hundred years,” Sharp replied. “Are you scared?”

  “A little,” Bert admitted.

  “Good, because it’s going to rip out your heart and eat it like a snack cake. Run or fight, you need to decide now. If you try to run it may pounce, but, maybe, just maybe, you can kill it while it’s still transforming.”

  “I’m not going to kill Hunter.”

  “Then you’re dead.”

  Ignoring Sharp, Bert focused on his friend. “Hey, Hunter. It’s Bert. Can you hear me?”

  In response, the lycanthrope roared, shaking the entire house.

  “Hunter, this is Waylon−”

  “Bert, stop!” Sharp said. “You’re just confusing it and pissing it off.”

  Bert ignored him. “Hunter, I’m Bert, your friend.”

  A look of understanding crossed its twisted face and a grin appeared on its distorted mouth. Bert sighed with relief. Hunter knew who he was. This might be okay after all.

  “Bert!” Sharp screamed as the beast dove across the room. It cleared the space between them in a single bound. Bert had been well trained, and only instinctive reaction saved his life. He instantly released a force spell which smacked Hunter square in the face, snapping his head back and hurling him back the way he’d come.

  As soon as he fired the first spell, Bert fired another, pulling the couch toward him. The idea was to catch Hunter on the soft surface as he fell. Instead, it hit the back of his legs and sent him twirling over the end. He landed behind it with a thud.

  “Nice shot,” Sharp said. “Now kill it!”

  Bert darted forward, jumped on the couch, and peered over the back. Hunter, the were-whatever-the-hell-he-was, shook his head and glared up at Bert with undisguised hate.

  “Yep, kill it now,” Sharp said. “Stab me through its heart and swing me through its neck.”

  “Sharp, I’m not killing—”

  Hunter dove at him from the floor. Bert jumped back off the couch and summoned a burst of energy to raise the couch into the air, between him and his attacker. Hunter hit it like a tackling dummy, slamming the airborne couch into Bert. He was knocked from his feet and flung against the far wall.

  His head swam, but he could see Hunter was still on his feet.

  Hunter attacked again. He didn’t have time to think, or even control the shot, so he just fired a raw energy spell. It hit Hunter in the chest and hurled him through the back door, snapping it like a twig as he passed through.

  Bert scrambled to his feet and ran after his friend. As he passed through the broken door frame he said, “Allie is going to kill me.”

  “Glad to see your priorities are in order,” Sharp said. “Now explain why you’re chasing that thing!”

  “Oh, shut up,” Bert said. “You’re nagging worse than my mother.”

  “Oh, well, forgive me for trying to be the voice of reason.”

  Outside, Hunter began circling Bert like a shark. While his friend maintained a wary distance, Bert drew energy. Running on only a few hours of sleep, after what had been one of the craziest days of his life, he was worn down mentally, magically, and physically. He couldn’t keep this up for long.

  Hunter growled and Bert began his next spell, smiling at the were-creature as he pulled all the moisture out of the air and ground around him, much as he’d done at the pool earlier. He’d hoped his grin might break Hunter’s confidence. It didn’t, and he charged.

  Bert fired, freezing the ground in Hunter’s path and turning it into a sheet of ice. Hunter was a big guy to begin with, but with the enhanced strength of a lycanthrope, he moved incredibly fast. At a full sprint, Hunter slipped, fell forward, and continued in a slide until his head smacked against a defenseless garden gnome planted in the grass. Hunter’s melon shattered the poor gnome, but the were-creature remained momentarily disoriented.

  Bert pushed the spell on, coating his friend in ice, trying to freeze him in place. He didn’t know if it would hurt him, but he also didn’t know if it would hold him, and he was all out of ideas save this one.

  Hunter struggled to rise, shattering ice as he fought to gain his feet. It crumbled, melting off his warm body, and creating a pool around his feet. And he looked pissed.

  “Nicely done, Abbas Ibn Firnas,” Sharp said. “Maybe remember to pull up and stall the next time you decide to jump off a mosque in the hang glider you just invented.”

  “Abbas might’ve wrecked that glider,” Bert said, drawing Sharp from his back. “But he did fly.”

  He hurled the sword into the ground in front of Hunter, sticking it between the shivering beast’s feet. Then he fired a bolt of lightning. Striking Sharp, the current traveled down the metal blade and into the puddle of water around Hunter’s feet. He summoned enough volts to kill a man, and if he’d hit him dead on, it might have. Or it might’ve blown off a limb. Instead, the volts spread evenly, zapping his whole body at once.

  Hunter fell to the ground and didn’t move.

  Bert eased his way over, ensuring Hunter was out cold, but not dead. He sighed as he realized his friend was breathing, and more, he was changing back to human.

  Chapter 16

  “I know you didn’t just do that,” Sharp said.

  “What?” Bert replied. “Get the Abbas reference? Yeah Sharp, that just happened.”

  “No, asshole. I was talking about the part where you used me as a goddamned lightning rod.”

  Bert chuckled. “Good idea, right?”

  “Good idea? Good idea? Bert, there are things you just don’t do to a friend.”

  Bert ignored him and dragged Hunter back inside the house, setting him against the overturned couch. He was still unconscious, but he was breathing steady, and what bruises he had were already fading.

  Now, he just needed to figure what the hell happened. Sharp had been right. The were-creatures he knew weren’t that powerful. Even in his weakened state, Hunter could’ve shredded them to pieces. And what about at full strength? He didn’t want to think about it.

  “What the hell is going on?” Hunter asked, one eye opened in a squint.

  “Honestly,” Bert said, sighing, “I don’t know.”

  “Did I...Did I just try to eat you?”

  “Yes, you did.” Bert shrugged. “No hard feelings, though.”

  Hunter grunted and glanced around. “My house looks like shit. Allie’s going to be pissed... Where is Allie? The girls? Are they okay?”

  He tried to rise but fell back down.

  Bert patted him on the shoulder. “It’s all right. She’s not here. I sent her to my house.”

  Hunter slumped back down and closed his eyes again. Bert took the opportunity to rummage through his cabinets until he found a jar of moonshine, his moonshine. He cracked the seal and put to his slips, taking a rather large and fiery gulp. Then he moved back to Hunter and offered him a drink. His friend also took a rather large pull then closed his eyes once more.

  Bert turned and started for the door.

  “Where you going?” Hunter asked.

  “Back in a second. I just need to talk to my sword.”

  “Oh, okay,” Hunter replied, too dazed to bother asking.

  Bert stepped out into the night air to confer with Sharp privately. That was silly of course, since they didn’t use actual words, but still, he didn’t want his facial expressions to give him away. Hunter had enough on his mind without having to wonder if his friend was schizophrenic. And, one of Sharp’s rules, his only rule, in fact, was that Bert wasn’t allowed to tell anyone he was sentient. If he did, the sword would bail, and Sharp’s wisdom, guidance, and badassery would be lost to him.

  “All right, you seem to know what’s going on,” Bert said. “Can you explain?”

  “I don’t know,” Sharp replied.

  “Yes, you do.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “You said, ‘Do you know what that is?’ That means you know.”

  “Well, yeah, I mean, it’s pretty obvious your friend
is a lycanthrope. That’s all I was saying.”

  “You’ve never acted that way about a were-creature before. Usually you make fun of them.”

  “That’s because they’re usually just furry and stupid.”

  “How the hell did Hunter end up with this?”

  “I don’t know, he’s not the one I’m stuck with every day. Why don’t you tell me if it’s true that the Galapagos tortoise farts sixty-three times per minute?”

  Bert paused, suddenly perplexed about tortoise flatulence. “Is that true?”

  “I don’t know,” Sharp said.

  “Are you trying to be funny?”

  “No, I am funny.”

  “Wait,” Bert said, pausing. “You aren’t still pouting about the lightning rod thing, are you?”

  “Hell yeah, I am! And I’m going to continue pouting until I receive a formal apology. You know, anyone else would treat me like a priceless treasure of beauty and mystery. But not Waylon Drake. No, he treats me like a goddamned lightning rod!”

  “Sharp, I apolo... I formally apologize for using you as a lightning rod. We good?”

  “No. You’re worse at apologies than you are at magic, or at making the move with girls. Why don’t you try to summon up a better one, and, while you’re at it, some better social skills too?” He paused for a moment, then added, “Fine. I guess I’ll help.”

  “All right. Well, this is above my head. I’ve never seen a were-creature with that kind of magical energy around it. Can you tell anything about it by that?”

  “Only that it’s very powerful and very old.”

  “Old? Hunter’s only a few weeks older than me.”

  “The magic, moron, not the were-critter. At full strength, he would’ve ripped you to shreds.”

  “What the hell should we do?”

  “Personally, and I’m just throwing this out there... Slit his throat while he’s weak.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Well, the next time he turns, and it’ll probably soon, he’ll go berserk and tear you apart, and who knows how many other people. We need to kill him while he’s down.”