Halloween story 2018

This is the whole Halloween Story

written by

Mr. Nobody, Niro, Koofer, Coolallosaurus, @kurben, @alexandra , Chris Keenan, Alizesmom , Gazman, nomik, Ebdim9th , Tery.
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The Cabin

Chapter 1
by Mr. Nobody

The road through the woods was rougher than Paul remembered it. The SUV bounced over rises and into wide, but mercifully shallow potholes, with the result that he, Sherry and Mikey were jostled and thrown against their harnesses without mercy. Of them all, only the boy seemed to be having a good time.

‘I thought you said your uncle really looked after this place?’ Sherry complained. ‘If the cabin’s anything like this “road”…’

Paul kept his faint, fake smile plastered to his lips, but said nothing. In truth, he shared the same fears. He remembered Uncle Dave taking a lot of pride in keeping everything just so. Paul had even helped out on occasion, during those long summers when his mom had sent him to New England so she could take a break from being a lone parent and breadwinner. Whatever had been the case then, there didn’t seem to be an awful lot of pride on display now.

It came as a surprise, then, when they rounded the final bend and saw the cabin and outbuildings laid out before them. No one would have guessed they’d stood empty for the best part of two years. At least from the outside.

Paul pulled into the large, doorless garage and came to a stop. With the engine off, the only sounds through the open windows were the susurration of wind through the trees, some hesitant birdsong, and the sound of water lapping against the lake shore.

‘Listen to that. Beautiful, isn’t it?’ he said, turning to Sherry and smiling.

‘Sure is, Dad,’ Mikey said, unclipping his seatbelt and bouncing out the door. ‘Holy ****! I mean, wow!’

Sherry didn’t smile back. ‘Yeah. Wow,’ she said, getting out. ‘Come on, kiddo. Let’s see what it’s like inside before we get all carried away.’

Paul sighed. It had been a long and difficult journey, and he knew Sherry didn’t travel well. Add in her displeasure at some of the ‘lake cabin’ stories Paul had told Mikey along the way and it was little wonder she was in a foul mood. He hoped it’d pass.

Inside, the cabin was more or less as Paul remembered it: large living area, kitchenette with a window looking out onto the garage, front windows overlooked the lake, hallway to the right. The only difference was the air smelled damp and stuffy.

‘Bedrooms and bathroom are down the hall. Big one’s ours, Mike.’

‘Cool!’ the boy said, hurrying away to check out his new room.

Sherry was checking out a couple of shelves half-full of books; thrillers, true crime, some horror, none of them new. Most of them were mildewed or completely rotten.

‘Please don’t tell me we really have to stay here,’ she said, so he said nothing. ‘That’s what I thought,’ she muttered, and followed Mikey down the short hall.

*

Several hours later, Paul stood out on the front deck, a mug of coffee in his hand, gazing out at the lake. The books, seat covers, curtains and most of the bedding now lay in a heap behind the house, replaced in a whirlwind of activity that carried the name Sherry Holt.

It was a shame she didn’t like it. He had hoped she might, at least once she was here. Maybe she was too much of a city girl at heart.

He shook his head. Tough. The cabin was their home now. It had to be. Lay-offs from the best-paying place in the state and an already overstretched set of finances did not good bedfellows make. Selling up and moving on had been the only option, and since Paul had inherited the cabin after Uncle Dave’s disappearance…

He sipped his coffee and tried to think of something else.

A dog started yapping on the far side of the lake, the sound carrying clear across the water, high and increasingly excited before cutting out.

‘It’s just the wendigo, boy,’ Paul muttered, smiling. ‘Or maybe it’s Old Sam Whatever, who drowned his wife and boy in the middle of the lake. Could even be –’

Rough barking and a howl cut him off. What the hell had that been? It had sounded like…

‘A wolf? Here?’

Farther into the surrounding forest, sure, but…here? And wolves didn't bark...did they?

The howling started again. It still sounded some distance off but Paul could have sworn it was closer. Too close.
When the wolf howled for a third time, closer still, he ditched the remaining coffee and headed indoors. He made sure to lock and bar the door behind him.


Sherry did not like the cabin but she would have to make herself comfortable for the time being. They were almost broke and the part time job she once had couldn't do much more than pay the rent. Paul had inherited the house from his uncle. The place wasn't too bad once you cleaned it up and let
in some fresh air. It was only that she feared the nightmares coming, which she had every time she
had to move since childhood. No spell could do the trick. She had even tried to create new ones
back in college. She was young back then and she would not give in so easily. Paul seemed not to
know about her anxiety and her witchcraft. She did not know if he did not want to know or if he
couldn't cope with it. She had packed "The Book of Spells" in her private box, though.

Mikey liked the idea of inhabiting the old room of his father. He hoped to find some things which
once belonged to his dad as a child. For some reason uncle Dave had always kept him away from the
cabin. Uncle Dave was somehow scared that Mikey could get lost in the woods or drown in the
lake. His Dad has not been that afraid of it and Mom did not know about this. "It's
a secret Mikey" had his Dad told him, "Do not scare your mom." Mike had nodded and rolled his eyes
but obeyed. Now he was looking at the old books on the shelves in his room. Mostly children books
like "The Giving Tree" or "Grimm’s Fairy Tales" but then his look gazed upon one without an
imprinted title. Mike took it, it felt lighter then it looked like. He opened it: "The stories
and Sagas of Rockwood". He knew had to read it, but his mom would probably take it away from him
the second she saw it, so he took a quick look around and hid it in his moving box. It was just
then that his mom had to stand in the door and asked if he was any hungry. He was, so he followed her
into the kitchen where they started cooking spaghetti Bolognese.

While cooking they started to make a list of things they needed to get from the grocery store.
They could not go there very often because it took them an hour each way. They had to
plan for more supplies than if they were in the city where the next Costco was just 10 minutes away. That was when
Sherry and Mikey heard the barking and howling from outside. It sent down shivers down Sherry’s
spine but she tried to make a brave face for Mikey who watched her closely. "Just a dog or
something, Mikey nothing to fear.” Mikey replied: "Okay." Then Paul entered the
kitchen. "What’s for dinner?”

Mikey couldn't wait to go back to his room to read the book he had hidden. Meanwhile Paul and
Sherry made plans for the next day, which included some grocery shopping and a little hike through the woods.



Darkness falling on the cabin combined with the long voyage left all three tired after their long day and ready for bed. As such, nothing seemed unusual about Mikey rushing back to his room, closing the door, and apparently getting ready for bedtime. Sherry checked on Mikey before retiring herself. Mikey asked if he could sleep with the small light next to his bed on, and Sherry replied that it was fine. He usually slept with a night light in his room, and there did not appear to be one there. That combined with her apprehension about the new environment made the light seem like a good idea. She made a mental note to get a proper night light when they were at the store tomorrow.
As soon as Mikey heard his parents’ bedroom door close, he grabbed the old book. It felt heavier than he remembered it feeling before dinner. He opened it, and noticed that there were several blank pages at the start, before realizing that he had opened the book upside down as there were no distinguishing marks on the cover. Opening the book the proper direction this time, The title page of "The Stories and Sagas of Rockwood" stared at him in an old script. Their current location of Rockwood, Vermont led him to believe that this was a book of local tales, however when he turned the page, there was a map of what appeared to be Europe, though the borders outlining all the countries seemed to be wrong. The title of the page was “Die Geschichten und Sagen von Waldstein: Formicairus Buch VI”. The map had a star in a country he had never heard of before called Bavaria, and the name “Waldstein” was next to the star. Underneath the map appeared the name “Johannes Nider” As he turned the page, he was startled by another round of howling coming from outside.

The first half of the book seemed to be filled with repeating pictures of the new and full moon on a 6x8 grid on each page. The first picture was of a new moon, dated 31 July, 1438, and he wondered why these went so far back. As he flipped through to see how far the phases went, he noticed how old and frail the pages felt. After a few minutes of skimming through the repeating pictures with continuously newer dates, there was another round of howling just as he flipped to the last page of the moon phases. The last picture, half way down the page, was a picture of a new moon dated 09 October 2018, just two weeks ago today. Mikey heard the door to his parents’ bedroom open, and he quickly hid the book.

Sherry was in the in-between state of being awake and asleep, cuddled in Paul’s arms when the last round of howling snapped her awake. She swore that she heard blood curdling screams mixed in as well, but she shook that off as being dream induced in her semi-conscious state. Paul was a notoriously heavy sleeper, and he groaned, rolled over, said something about crackers and basketball that made no sense as he quickly returned to his light snoring. She got out of bed, having a sinking feeling that she should check on her son. She quietly went into his room so as not to disturb him if he was sleeping.

“Hi mom,” Mikey said. “Is everything OK?”
“You know I have a hard time sleeping in new places, and the wildlife isn’t helping.” She replied. “I’m going to make myself some tea. Do you want any?”
“No thanks. I’m getting sleepy now. See you in the morning.” Mikey fibbed. As much as he wanted to continue reading the book, he knew that his mother’s insomnia had foiled his reading plans, at least for tonight.

Sherry went to the kitchen and searched through the cabinets. Though she had brought some chamomile tea with her, to make a proper dream tea, she also needed peppermint and mugwort. Though she found a bit of peppermint extract of indeterminate age, her desire for mugwort was her “welcome to rural America” moment. She opened her “Book of Spells” as she waited for her tea to steep, and flipped through it to see what other items that she should add to her rapidly growing list of things to get on her forthcoming trip to town.



The kitchen was growing warm with the slow boiling kettle. The co-mingling of heat and sleep deprivation made Sherry dreamy. As she sunk down, face first, into her open spell book the piercing scream of the kettle jolted her awake. Sherry jumped up, still half asleep, and fumbled for the wood handle of the kettle. She didn’t want the noise to wake Mikey or Paul.

As she lifted the kettle off the burner, Sherry felt a vibration underfoot, as though a giant was outside. She paused, kettle in hand, imagining the tremor to be an earthquake. For a minute she wondered if Vermont even had earthquakes and whether she should wake Mikey and Paul to get them under a doorway, just to be safe.

The trembling grew worse, moving from a slight vibration under her feet, up through her calves, and now making her whole body feel woozy and wobbly as though she had had too much to drink. She was ready to run to Mikey and Paul when suddenly, an enormous object crashed against the kitchen door. Sherry dropped the kettle back onto the burner, and stared, frozen in horror at the door. The heavy oak bulged slightly inward, making a horrible, solid “thwack” that echoed through the kitchen. Just as suddenly as it appeared, the “thwack” died away, leaving only the shriek of the kettle.

Sherry felt the tremors under her feet grow faint as whatever hit her door retreated. She tried to think or move, but neither her brain nor limbs fired off an action signal. Only her heart seemed to be doing anything, beating in heavy, rapid succession. When she and Paul first started talking seriously about moving to Rockwood, Paul began teaching her the basics of surviving in the country. A roadside emergency kit with enough supplies for her and Mikey, a map, and to watch out for deer.

“Why deer?” she asked one weekend when Mikey was at his friend’s home and she and Paul were out hunting for free moving boxes. Having lived her whole life in various cities, the extent of Sherry’s wildlife knowledge stopped at pigeons and squirrels in the park.

"You catch a deer in your headlights," he said, "and they’ll freeze up, and you’ll run right into it.”

“Are deer really that stupid?” she asked.

“No, not stupid at all. The headlights flood their whole vision, make ‘em blind, and it’s the blindness that makes them freeze. Imagine having sight one second and then, pop! you’re blind. You’d freeze, too.”

Sherry felt like the deer now. Blinded and letting some awful object come hurdling towards her family. She closed her eyes, trying to get either her body or mind to do something. As the kettle’s panicked cries seemed to grow louder, Sherry felt the vibrations under foot again, gradually increasing in intensity until a jolt knocked her feet from under her and she landed butt first on the wood floor. The moment she landed the creature hit the door. Sherry could hear the oak moan in agony at the weight of this second assault.

Landing on the floor woke Sherry from her deer-in-the-headlights panic, and she scrambled to her feet toward the kitchen counter and grabbed the heavy Maglite Paul found while cleaning out Dave’s junk drawer. She and Paul had joked the thing was better suited as a brick than flashlight with its weak, yellowed bulb. She gripped the handle and walked towards the door. The vibrations were dying underfoot, which gave her a short window to prepare for whatever was outside.

“Mommy?” a small, tired voice cried. Sherry’s blood ran cold. Mikey was standing in the kitchen.

“Mikey, go get daddy,” she said, trying not to let her voice betray her fear.

“Mommy, what’s wrong? Why is the teapot crying?” he paused and looked at her, then the flashlight, “Where are you going?” his voice trembling, “Mommy, where are you going?”

Sherry could feel the vibrations getting closer. “Go get daddy NOW!” she said, “Tell him I need him and then you go back in your bedroom, lock the door, and STAY in there.” Mikey looked at her, his eyes growing slick with tears, “NOW, Mikey, Now!”



Paul came stumbling into the kitchen, still half asleep.

”What did you want? Mikey said that...”

”There is something out there! It almost broke down the door!” Sherry interrupted.

”Broke down the door?” Paul rubbed his eyes while trying to wake up. ”What do you mean?”

”I'm telling you it almost got in!” she yelled.

”Calm down! You're almost hysterical! Tell me slowly what happened,” he said and hugged her. Then she told him. Paul looked skeptical.

”Are you sure you didn't dream it? I mean, there are no big animals around, you know. At least not any that would try to break down doors. Perhaps it was a bird that flew into the door?”

”It was no blasted birdie. It was heavy!”

”OK, OK. I'll go out and take a look. It's no problem.” he said and started for the door.

”Wait! Take this with you” she said and handed him a baseball bat that Mikey had brought with him.

Paul felt a bit foolish holding the bat but decided not to argue. ”OK” he said as he opened the door.

Outside Fur had a bit of pain in his shoulder. That door had been harder than he thought. Fur had seen them arrive. As long as Fur could remember that house had been abandoned, and that little one looked just the right size for a good meal. The elders in his tribe had told stories so he knew that people had lived there before. The Tribe usually kept away from humans if possible but Fur didn't think these three looked dangerous. Now Fur waited behind a tree and studied the scene and wondered what to do next. He knew they would have to do something before the phase of the werewolves strength passed. With his big yellow eyes he saw that the door opened and a man holding some kind of stick came out. Fur reacted instantly. He melted into the background and was invisible to any human.

Paul stepped out and looked around. He didn't see anything strange. Sherry just dreamed he thought. She is even more of a city girl than I imagined. He saw some trees, their car nearby, and nothing else. He didn't even hear anything. It was completely still as if the forest and their inhabitants waited for something. Suddenly, something rushed him. He didn't see it approach but he felt its impact and he was suddenly on his back with something large looming over him. He screamed and dropped the bat and raised his hands against whatever it was on top of him. He managed to see two very big yellow eyes and then he felt teeth drive into his upper right arm. Blood gushed out and then he felt two massive jaws tear away a big chunk of flesh from his arm. He screamed again and with his left arm, he hit a fur covered body that was full of muscles. Then he felt a rain of small objects thrown at him. Most hit the creature above him but some hit him. It was forks and knives of different sizes. “Sherry,” he thought. “She is the best.” Then he fainted.

Fur had run away when the things with sharp edges started flying. He wasn't hurt. He licked his mouth that was covered in blood, licked it off and savored the taste. He found a last bit of flesh caught between two teeth and swallowed it. Now he knew that the tales were true, human flesh is a delicacy. He saw a woman drag the man inside again and thought of his tribe. So much good food here for all, not just him. But he wondered how to keep them here. Fur got an idea. If the car doesn’t work, they couldn't leave. He crept over to the car and slashed all its tires, then went back into the forest to tell his Tribe that food has arrived.

When Paul woke up he was on the sofa, his arm was bandaged and Sherry looked down on him.

”Are you OK?”

”I'm alive thanks to you”

They agreed that Paul had to get to a hospital.



Mikey was scared. Real scared. He helped his mom as much as she would let him. Once his dad was bandaged and on the couch; he thought he might be able to go back to his room. Mikey wanted to read that book some more, he knew somehow it was important and might even help the three of them.

Paul and Sherry were a bit nervous, but relieved, Mikey was in his room. They needed to talk. They both agreed that it wasn't safe to leave the cabin until daybreak, that thing could be anywhere lurking, waiting for them. So they decided to wait. Sherry already knew what it was. The way it charged the cabin and attacked Paul. That damn thing was a werewolf and it was waiting and planning its next move. She knew they would not be safe until daylight came. It was only shortly after 1:00 a.m., it was going to be a long night. Paul was dozing off; he had lost so much blood. She was worried about him and annoyed she couldn't do more for him. She took one last look at him to make sure he was resting and then went to their bedroom and opened her private box. At the bottom was her great grandmother's necklace: A Gothic cross, made of silver with engraving on it she didn't understand. Inlaid on the cross were 7 emeralds. She put it around her neck and fastened the clasp. It was the only Amulet she had and Sherry hoped it would be enough to keep them safe from the evil she could feel all around her.

Mikey too had dozed off reading the book, but he was jolted awake by the sound of glass breaking. He started hollering for his Mom and already heard the screams coming from the living room: guttural screams of terror and pain. Then, the sounds suddenly stopped.

“Mikey, stay in your room! Barricade the door!!” his Mom shouted at him as she ran by him. When she got to the living room she could hardly believe what she was seeing. A huge wolf was on top of Paul, or what was left of him. Blood and pieces of flesh dripping from the beast's jaws. It was in a frenzy. Her husband fixated on her eyes -- his were filled with a mix of fear yet resolve. Paul was dying and he knew it. He loved his family, had he shown it? Had he said it enough? He wasn't sure. Things were getting hazy and he knew he didn't have long to live. He died apologizing for bringing them to this hell hole. At that, the beast reached and swiped at Paul's chest in one motion, and ripped the heart from his chest. It looked around with triumph as he held it high in the air, catching the droplets of blood with its long tongue. That's when he spotted Sherry. She stood there in horror, tears running down her face. Fur thought he would have two of these tasty delicacies to take back to his Tribe. Then it spotted the cross around the female's neck. Where, how did she get it? Did she find it or maybe that nosey old hag he had killed many years ago had given it to her. Fur had looked for that cross for a long time after the old lady was dead. She was a smart one though, she must have already passed it on. A low growl came from deep in his throat, his eyes narrowed. Another day and I will return he thought as he threw what was left of Paul over his shoulder. Never taking his eyes off this human, he backed away slowly and then he was out the door into the darkness.

The Tribe had been very angry with him when he returned earlier with no food. They were going to be pleased to see him this time.
Paul never had the chance to tell Sherry what he saw. As he lay there, dying, he looked up at the beast atop him. Paul could not take his gaze of the beast's face. You see, there was a shadow --- a shape within the wolf's features and it was human. It was his Uncle Dave...



Luke eyed the lycan scurrying from the cabin. Though the stench of blood was unmistakable, he also smelled fear emanating from the werewolf, which he hadn't expected. Watching Fur make his escape to the safety of the woods, Luke summoned his centuries of experience while contemplating his next move. Approaching the cabin he could hear the sobs of the boy, however there were no shrieks from the woman. He sensed an unusual strength about her, the kind of inner fortitude humans rarely possessed.
Luke had been here before, in the 15th Century, when an epic battle against the Lycans was waged by himself and his long deceased partner Zane. Zane was an intensely loyal warrior who met his demise that fateful day, sacrificing himself for the cause of good, and for Luke. The memory still haunted him. Though possessing innumerable skills attained thru many lifetimes, Luke was not immortal, he just didn't age. He remained at his peak mentally and physically, in perpetuae. He knew the evil the lycan tribe carried out and his inner radar had led him to this site. A place where in the past good had triumphed over evil. It was his mission to see history repeat itself.
As Fur increased his pace back to the lair, an unfamiliar and unsettling feeling enveloped him. He was a lycan, a ruler. His entirety had been spent as a conqueror and this intuition of fear was entirely unknown. At a time when he should be relishing meeting his brethren, relaying his fresh kill and the prospect of more, he couldn't shake the look in the girl's eye. More unsettling was the emerald amulet, a source of power Fur didn't want to ponder. He skulked back toward the lair's safety, the taste of the human's fresh blood not providing its usual euphoric state.
Sherry should have been a mess. Her devoted and faithful husband had been a heap of flesh on a remote cabin's floor before being dragged into the woods. Her son had witnessed his father's gruesome death firsthand, surely a nightmare of which counselling may never be able to repair or mend. Quite to the contrary however, as Sherry held her son in her arms a steely resolve set about her entirety. She had always retained an inner strength, but upon bearing the amulet things were clearer now. It was as if her purpose in life had been set before her eyes, plain as day. Internally she vowed to not let Paul's death be in vain. While unsure of the details, she knew the fight that was before her was to stem the evil that was encircling her and Mikey.
Luke slowly appeared in Sherry's periphery. Startled, she shielded Mikey from the unknown danger and scrambled to cover, such that it was in the rustic dwelling. Sensing her panic, Luke calmly called out to Sherry, his ancient drawl slow like an 1880's American gunfighter.
"I'm not your enemy. I think you know that inside. You've no reason to fear me," Luke stated flatly.

Sherry didn't speak for a long time. Luke sensed her strength and instantly knew they would stand together in this battle. Sherry was a warrior like Zane, she just didn't realize her gift until this moment.

"How do I know you? We've never met, but I feel as if we're connected. Why are you here?"

Step by step Luke laid it out for her, Mikey wide eyed as he listened. Sherry somehow knew every word this man spoke was the truth, as unbelievable as the tale was. Luke detailed portions of his long history that led him to this point in time, intertwining his destiny with Sherry's.

"We've got work to do. The lycans will be back, and soon."

The werewolves had worked themselves into a frenzy. It had been ages since this tribe had been challenged, but upon Fur's news of the woman and her powerful amulet they knew they would need their combined strength to survive. Additionally, they sensed, they KNEW Luke was lurking. Revenge for all their kind this interloper had slain was now within their reach and blood was the only acceptable outcome. Dawn neared, and they would rest. This nightfall, they would attack without mercy.

Putting her overwhelmed son to sleep, Sherry joined Luke on the porch. Silently they scanned their woody domain, each pondering each other and what lay ahead. The daybreak provided a chance for them to formulate their plan. Tonight would be their war. Destiny awaited.



But Mikey wasn’t sleeping. When he was sure his mom and the man were busy he grabbed his flashlight and the book. Surely there was something there that would help him avenge his daddy. He opened to the beginning and slowly flipped through the pages. Moon phase after moon phase seemed to be all it contained. Frustrated, he slammed it closed. As he did a thin envelope floated down to his lap.

Sherry and Luke watched the rising of the sun. The sky was a brilliant mix of differing shades of red that seemed incongruent with the events of the past night. Luke watched as a single tear escaped Sherry’s brilliant green eyes. The new sun made it shine. But something else was glistening as well. It was then that he noticed the amulet. He discovered that after all these centuries he could still be surprised.

Despite knowing they were safe during daylight Luke offered to keep watch. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d go without sleep and he hoped it wouldn’t be the last. Besides, he had a lot to think about. After token protest Sherry shambled off to bed. She checked on Mikey and was relieved to see him sleeping with his hand tucked under his pillow.

Several hours later Mikey woke. The first thing he did was retrieve the letter from Uncle Dave. He read it again although the opening was already committed to memory. “The blasted thing bit me. I’ve started hearing its thoughts and memories. It’s calling me. Please, God, I don’t answer.”

Sherry rose at noon resolved to remove Mikey from the danger and then to stand with Luke. Luke was at the table holding a mug of her long forgotten tea. She stopped abruptly realizing that Mikey wasn’t there. Surely he wasn’t still asleep. Moving quickly, she snatched open his door. The sunlight flowed through the window as a breeze played with the curtains. On the floor, a piece of parchment fluttered.


Grasping the windowsill, she peered through the window. “Not you too Mikey,” she thought, “I can’t lose you both.” She sank to the floor sobbing and Luke was beside her instantly, silver steel bared.

“He’s gone, why would he leave the cabin?” she pleaded, mostly to herself.

Luke quickly scanned the room; his old eyes noticed the yellowing piece of parchment. He snatched it up, read it quickly, then read it again. He focused on the last few lines of the old letter “...I don’t want to go outside but I’m burning up, the bite is throbbing, drawing me outside, back to that old lumber mill, I should never have gone in but I couldn’t ignore the cries...”

Luke knew that had to be the lair, he had been drawn to this area but couldn’t pinpoint the exact location of the tribe. Some tribes would keep a victim alive hoping that their cries of pain and anguish would lure good Samaritans.

He hunkered down beside Sherry, placing his hand on her shoulder. He spoke softly but firmly “We need to move now, I think I know where he’s going.” He rose and held out his hand, she grasped it tightly and pulled herself up. “No more tears,” she thought as she strode out of the bedroom ahead of Luke.

Luke had placed some of the contents of his large backpack on the kitchen table. Sherry was drawn towards a large crossbow and a quiver of bolts, some with silver tips. She grabbed the blackened oak handle and lifted, surprised at how light it was.

Without a word, Luke grabbed one of the standard bolts and showed her how it was loaded. He opened the front door of the cabin and pointed at an old wooden crate by the fence at the end of the garden. Sherry stepped into the doorway and raised the crossbow to her right shoulder.

Luke grinned as like a natural she took a breath, held it, closed her left eye and slowly squeezed the trigger. The bow string twanged, the bolt flew through the air embedding itself in the top right corner of the old crate.

As Sherry turned to Luke he said “I pointed at the middle of the crate but I suppose that will have to do.” Sherry smirked and held the crossbow out to Luke, he pushed it back towards her. “Keep it, I have plenty of other trinkets.”

Luke packed his gear and said “Time to leave, he can’t have gone too far, I can track him, and then maybe we can find that mill.” Sherry gasped as something long forgotten burst back into her mind, “I can track him even better than you!” she ran to her room and grabbed the private box given to her by her grandmother.

She opened it up on the kitchen table, took out the spell book and flicked to the page she was looking for. “What is it?” Luke asked. Sherry jabbed a finger at the page, “A maternal tracking spell, just after Mikey was born when we were still in the Hospital my grandmother placed a small dark blue stone on his forehead and whispered some words in his ear, for a split second he was shrouded in a faint blue aura. I thought it was tiredness and painkillers but it wasn’t! She told me to keep that stone with me at all times”

Sherry felt around in the box for the small felt pouch that she hadn’t touched in years. She opened the draw string and took out the small dark blue stone. Glancing at the page in the spell book she filled the kitchen sink with water, dropped the stone in and read the words on the page. The room seemed to get darker for a moment and then slowly a small blue tentacle of mist trickled out over the sink and spilled onto the floor, it picked up pace and headed out the door. Sherry shouted at Luke as she ran out the door “Follow the mist!” Luke couldn’t see any mist but took her at her word and started moving.

An hour later, Sherry still leading the way they trudged through some deep underbrush, they hadn’t spoken a word to each other. Luke turned to her, “What do you know of the Cross you carry? How did you come to own a Wolfssegen?” He knew by her face that she didn’t know the word. “It’s a charm against wolves, hundreds of years old from Bavaria”

Sherry opened her mouth to reply but before she could answer they heard branches cracking just up ahead...


Sherry had a feeling that Luke was more than he proclaimed himself to be. Ancient werewolf hunter who had faced off with the likes of Fur in the past was a useful comrade, but who was he, really?
It did not matter for the moment, because she needed to cast a powerful protection spell. It was almost instinct: she rummaged through her bag, grabbing every possible magical item that she might need: she needed a small cast iron cauldron, which she procured from her bag. She sifted through her array of wax candles and selected a black one. She quickly grabbed a piece of parchment paper and began to write words on it, while fondling the amulet around her neck, and channeling its power.
After casting he ritual circle, she lit the black candle and pricked her finger with a knife. Using the blood from her finger and a thinly whittled stick, she drew a pentacle on the parchment. Beneath it she wrote:
Goddess, I seek your help in banishing this negativity from my life
She thanked her personal triple Goddess, Tess. She allowed the candle to burn out.

She had cast a protection spell through the most powerful goddess she knew. Now it was time to take matters into her own hands. Her son Mikey, the love of her life, being missing filed her with a new kind of power, fueled by magical maternal instinct and a keen awareness of the ancient battle she was being drawn into.
“Why should I trust you, you’re not human either!” Sherry exclaimed, backing away from her trusted companion.
This is too much, I have to find my son now!!!
Sherry breathed deeply, hoping to catch the scent of one of the vile beasts on the chilly autumn air.
First, she would need to slay the enemy beside her: the tall, handsome, smooth talking and debonair Luke. He was surely not to be trusted.
Somehow her ancient memory stirred. Vampires and werewolves have been pitted against each other in the fray for centuries word wide, and it has not changed throughout history.
The chain holding her amulet was silver, and on the ground, she found two wooden sticks, perfect for forming a crucifix.
She held the chain and cross and aimed it at her companion, expecting him to at the very least run away, if not shrivel up and die as monsters of lore should.

Luke looked at her with sober and solemn grey eyes. He winced slightly at her weapons. He put a hand over hers, the one holding the silver, and his other hand enclosed the one holding the wooden cross.
She drew back in fear, but Luke simply leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, pressing her hands to her heart. She dropped the wood and the silver.

“You want the truth?” Luke began “Okay, you are right. I am a vampire. I am a historical opponent of the Lycans or werewolves, as you call them. Your magic did not work against me because I have taken steps to protect myself as well. There is an ancient battle both worldwide and in this little New England forest between the sovereignty of power: Lycans (werewolves) versus vampires. This began in Europe, hundreds of years ago and has continued as we all have made a home in North America.

Sherry realized that the vampire was holding her hand, and it felt comforting and warm. Her maternal instincts took over.
Snatching her hand away, she screamed “Where is my son????!!!!” “He is all that matters now.”
Luke took Sherry’s hands in his, risking a slap. She allowed him to pull her closer and stare deeply into her green eyes.
Luke had never felt this level of warmth and connectedness toward another being, let alone a human. It was a surprising feeling and made him want to burst. He couldn’t understand why his heart and mind were insisting that he follow this potentially dangerous woman to help her.
“I can smell him” answered Luke
Follow me this way.
Sherry grabbed every possible magical weapon she had available, as well as the gun. She quickly asked for blessing from the gods and goddesses and ran after Luke.

Luke spread his arms, and suddenly they turned into beautiful wide, black wings. The black wings billowed like queen sized sheets on line with the North wind blowing.
He flew above Sherry, toward the center of the ancient New England forest where little Mikey was bound to be, with his werewolf captors. Would they kill him or would they turn him?
Would it matter?
Sherry reached up to Luke, and he swooped down and grabbed her hand and held her to his chest. The wind chilled her body has his magnificent wings flapped forward toward her child, and the great battle that was about to take place.


Luke whispered in Sherry’s ear, sensing her heart beating frantically away like an engine of creation, ‘clear your mind, wipe away your panic, I can smell him, but like you said you had a better way, focus on the blue line in your mind, and then look for it below”. To clear his own mind for the task ahead, Luke focused his mind by praying to his own god, his maker Einar, who had taken him as a monk from a monastery in England the Vikings had raided, turning him after taking Luke as the highest form of treasure from Lindisfarne, that is, the Holy Island, in 793. They followed the age of the Vikings from England to the siege in Paris in 885, onto Burgundy. They scaled the walls the siege engines failed to bring down, but even two vampires weren’t foolish enough to take on entire cities, and though Einar, technically a Viking had no desire to win their wars for them. So, they didn’t sneak to any gates and throw them open, either. They went on raids of their own, after all, Luke had so much to learn about being a vampire more than a Viking, although the experience itself was certainly still worth having. Along the way, and across the centuries Luke turned a witch-hunter named Nider who used to burn the daughters of Satan (as he saw them) on the Devil’s Table on his castle grounds, and a former pirate named Zane, who thought all his days of adventure, on the high seas and otherwise, were behind him. During all of those times, from the era of the Vikings in Europe forward to the 1800's and colonialism, Luke and Einar took to the seas more and more, venturing farther than the Vikings they sometimes sailed with, to the New World to confront the werewolves there, and a Native American witch who cursed them with a storm, wrecking their ship and forcing them to rely on being picked up by a Viking explorer, Leif Ericson, in humiliation. Further along their path, the witch-hunters Nider used to run with were all turned by a werewolf they were after, found and overcame him, and staked him to his own Devil’s Table, to lie in the sun all day long until he exploded, after all, a vampire could take direct sunlight for a little while, but then they’d have to go to ground for days to recover. Zane died avenging Nider, but that’s another story. Now, Luke and Sherry were approaching the lumber mill, where the blue light and the vibrant scent of the living, both human and animal, led them.


As Luke and Sherry lit down near the mill, they could hear growls and screams. It sounded like the werewolves were fighting. What if Mikey was in there? She started for the mill but Luke held her back.

"Let me." The vampire was ready. He'd waited 600 years for this.

A rustling in a nearby pine caught their attention and, to Sherry's eternal relief, Mikey dropped down out of it. He ran to his Mom and grabbed her in an intense hug. Sherry didn't care how her son was safe, just that he was. Another series of screams from the mill caught all of their attention.

Sherry stood paralyzed, Mikey clinging to her, as Luke charged the mill and the Lycans he had hunted for so long. This would be the final battle.

Sherry racked her brain. There had to be a spell powerful enough to help. She closed her eyes, tried to ground and center and think. As she did a voice whispered in her ear. Sherry listened carefully...

"Mikey - go get some dry pine needles and sticks. Help me build a fire."

She reached into her bag, grabbed her lighter, Kneeling at the shore of the lake she took the kindling Mikey brought her, built it up and, hands shaking, lit it.

"Get more, bigger pieces, We have to get this going fast!"

The sounds of the battle were terrifying but Mikey did as he was told. He found a pile of mill leavings and filled his arms, delivering the seasoned pine to his mother.

"Good job!" Sherry fed the fire until it surged. "Now I need you to keep it going, okay?"

Mikey nodded and knelt by the fire. Something big was coming. He felt it.

Sherry was less convinced but she trusted the voice of her Grandmother. Reaching into the bag, she grasped a blue calcite crystal. As she brought it out, an inner fire gave it life. She gazed out into the lake where its titular rock outcropping stood sentinel, looked up at the brooding clouds, the fire to her left, the gleaming crystal in her hand. She touched the cross at her throat and intoned:

Spirits of this place, I call you!
Spirits of Air, Water, Fire, Earth
Come to us in our time of need!


She felt the cross tingle and, obeying the voice in her ear, heaved the crystal into the lake. She repeated the invocation. Then she remembered a song --

Fire of the Heart, Fire of the mind
Fire on the wind, Fire out of time
Fire like a sword, Fire like a shield
Fire to the core...


The lake was churning now, the clouds moving in tandem. The fire rose into the sky in a whirlwind and suffused the mist with a blue glow. Sherry continued to sing as the emeralds in her amulet gave off their own eerie brilliance. She heard Mikey's voice join her own. And still the maelstrom grew. Sherry watched in awe as its blue flames bent towards the old mill and the unholy creatures within. Then she suddenly remembered.

"Luke!" She shouted above the roar of the flames, "Get out!"

The vampire looked up as the flames touched the mill and the wolves realized what was happening. Their howls of pain and rage drowned him out but Sherry saw his lips, saw him shake his head.

"GO!" the ancient being shouted.

Grabbing Mikey by the hand, she turned away from the mill and the swirling, blue inferno it had become. She turned at the edge of the woods to see the building collapse as the holy fire turned it, and everything inside, to ashes. Saying a brief prayer for Luke she turned and took her son back to the cabin.

Chapter 13
By Tery
-- Epilogue --


Sherry sat on the porch of the cabin, a mug of tea in her hands. She watched the autumn sun rise over the lake, turning the surface to gold. She and Mikey lived in the city again but the cabin stayed in the family. She and Mikey came here for weekends and vacations. Sherry had done some redecorating, of course... The last thing she'd done was to hang the emerald cross above the fireplace, both to protect the place and so they would never forget the man who had died to save them.