Circe ran down the sidewalk alongside the winding road of a suburban neighborhood, spewing out puffs of frosted breath and foul language.
"Damn it!" she shouted. "Where could she be?"
"She", being Morgan.
Circe had just come out of the Nettles House after meeting Benjamin who was pretty surprised to see her back so soon. He asked if something was wrong, but Circe lied and said that she had something of Morgan's that she needed to return.
"She wouldn't happen to be inside right now, would she?"
Circe really hoped she was, but to her dismay, Benjamin answered, "No. She did come back, but then quickly left after asking me some questions. I would've thought she'd have gone home by now."
Unfortunately, Circe had no idea where Morgan lived. And neither did Benjamin.
After getting Morgan's phone number from him, Circe left. But of course, as soon as she tried calling, she got a recorded message saying the phone was not in service. There could be plenty reasons for that. The phone could be off (Yeah, right. No one turns off their phones these days). Its batteries could be dead (Also impossible, Circe knew, because Morgan was seen plenty of times carrying around at least two portable chargers.). It could be broken (Circe really hoped it wasn't, because that would be a really, really bad sign right now). Or it was out of service range.
Circe stopped.
"That's it! The viewpoint!"
This all started at the viewpoint. Doubtlessly, the whole hillside was searched from top to bottom. But being a stubborn idiot, Morgan was sure to check it out for herself anyway.
But the viewpoint was on the very outskirts of the city, much further away than Chinatown. Reaching there by bus and on foot would take AT LEAST an hour. But Circe had no choice. All she had was twenty dollars, not even close to enough to afford a cab ride. She could only hope she could reach Morgan in time before any vampires do.
**********
The vampire boss whipped around faster than Morgan could blink. But suddenly she stopped, the tips of her claws just shallowly sunk into the collar of Morgan's coat. A second passed and then the vampire zoomed backwards high into the air, tearing the coat's collar in the process. She crashed through tree after tree, after tree until she hit one thick and sturdy enough to endure the impact.
Despite the pain to her back, the vampire boss landed on her feet on the ground. She looked up at her followers and their captive. Even from far away, the dumbfounded looks on all of their faces was as clear as day. Realizing that none of them had caused her impromptu flight, she quickly straightened up and looked around with angry eyes.
"Who did that?" she yelled. "Where are you? Show yourself!"
There was silence for a moment. And then someone whistled from afar.
"I'm impressed," echoed in a young woman's voice. "Even for vampires, a crash like that must hurt a lot. You must be a lot sturdier than most to be standing after that."
The vampire boss spun around, ears strained, but she could not pinpoint where that voice was coming from. And the only thing she could smell with her super-nose were herself, her followers, Morgan and the nature around them. Nothing else.
"Stop hiding, coward!" she shouted.
Laughter came from all around, as if the mysterious woman was everywhere, in all directions, all at once. Wind from afar, white swirled towards the spot between the vampire boss and the rest of the people gathered, picking up particles of snow along the way. Round and round the gusts went around each other into a funnel of white that looked almost like a great, big tree taller than any in the local wilderness only to pop like a balloon.
Morgan felt a burst of cold air slam into her. She and the vampires holding her all fell to the ground, seated on the mud as they stared in paralyzing fear at what had appeared before them.
As strips of snow dropped down and faded around it, a large human-shaped figure floated over the ground, shrouded from head to toe in black fabric that was tattered and torn to strips at the edges. It looked as if the personification of Death itself had appeared before them all. No wonder that Morgan and the vampires found it so frightening.
"Who's hiding?" said the figure.
The vampire boss, the only one unimpressed by the ominous being looking down on her, responded with a scowl, "Who else but you? Do you take me for a fool, witch? Do you think I don't know a puppet when I see one?"
"For the record, it's not a puppet," said the woman. "It's an Egregor."
"Whatever it is, it's not scaring me!" shouted the vampire boss.
Again, the witch laughed. "Oh, it's not meant to scare you. Just distract you enough for me to catch you off-guard."
The figure lifted up its hand which, when the sleeve of its robe dropped down to the elbow, was revealed to be just blackened bones. With its fingers, it made a loud snap and suddenly, all the other vampires flew straight up into the air before being flung over to their boss's side. Unlike their boss, the vampires went splat on the ground either flat on their stomachs or on their backs. Morgan was the only one left where she was.
Once she realized she was free, she thought about running away. But before she actually could, the witch spoke to her. "If you're going to run, my dear, might I suggest you run that way?"
The bones shrouded in black pointed left.
"Just keep going straight and you'll be back at the viewpoint."
Morgan looked where the Egregor pointed and hesitated.
As if the witch read her mind, she added, "You're not going to find what you're looking for here. By now, he's long gone from this place. My recommendation: get back to the other witch. She is your best bet at finding that which is most important to you. You understand who I'm talking about don't you?"
Morgan nodded. There aren't a lot of witches in her life, so it was pretty easy to guess."
"Now go."
"Hold it!" shouted the vampire boss. "Do you really think I'll just let you go that easy? Any of you?"
"You have no chance and you have no choice," said the witch. "You should be grateful I showed up when I did."
"And why's that?" the vampire boss asked scathingly.
"Don't you know who has come to this city?" asked the witch. "A very dangerous man from far, far away is here on a mission. He is notably tolerant of Shifters, but he won't turn a blind eye to the slaying of innocent girls. He would have slaughtered you all if I had not stopped you."
The vampires all looked at one another, alarmed. But their boss continued to glare at the floating cloaked figure. "I don't believe you," she said.
"Really?" the witch inquired. "Not even as you sense him approaching? Come now. Surely, you can smell it. The stench of blood and death. It is the kind of scent made permanent after countless killing, decades of killing if not centuries of it. He is sure to notice the ruckus I just made and will want to see what is going on for himself. I don't need to tell you how bad things will get when he sees all this."
"She's right," one vampire whispered to the boss. "I can smell blood, the bad kind of smell, getting closer and closer."
The vampire boss gave her underling a glance. She could see the nervousness in his eyes, but she remained defiant. "It's just one man! We outnumber him. I'm sure we can handle him."
"Maybe you can," said the witch. "But some of your followers will surely die. Can you live with yourself if even one of those under your care perish?"
Once more the vampire boss looked at her underlings, before throwing one last glare at the floating set of black robes.
"Fine," she said. "We'll back off."
She threw a glare at Morgan too.
"Let your little wolf friend know that he and all his little wolf buddies will get what they deserve. Count on it."
She turned her back to the floating black phantom and Morgan, and began to walk away. Her followers all stepped to the side to let her through before walking closely behind at her heels. They left at a steady pace. But when Morgan blinked, they all vanished as if everything that just happened was a dream this whole time.
"You okay?"
Morgan jumped. She looked and saw the black robes beside her. It was close enough for her to see under the hood. A skull stained greenish black stared back at her.
With a yell, Morgan jumped, fell and planted her rear on the mud. She didn't care and slid across in a frantic backwards crawl.
A woman's chuckle came from the floating black robed skeleton.
"Sorry, sorry," said the witch's voice. "I nearly forgot how scary this guy looks."
White wind gathered around the Grim Reaper and coccooned it, before popping like a balloon. The skeleton contained in black robes was no more. Floating in its place was a slender woman in a black ball gown with tight long sleeves and frilled cuffs. Velvet black gloves covered small, delicate fingers while a domino mask covered a pale white face. The eye holes of the mask were covered by black glass, hiding the woman's eyes from view. Her lipstick was also black, as was the wide-brimmed hat that hid her hair and the whole back of her head.
"Better?" she asked with a smile.
It was loads better than the skeleton, thought Morgan. She answered with a nod.
"Good," the witch said, pleased. But then she frowned with concern and asked, "You're not hurt anywhere are you? I hope I caught that demoness' claws in time."
"Oh, um, yeah," said Morgan. "I'm fine. Your timing couldn't have been more perfect. Well, actually, I'd have liked it if you showed up a little bit earlier."
"Quite the honest one, aren't you?" said the witch. "Since it appears you are unharmed, I will call this a job well done and be on my way."
"Wait!" Morgan cried.
The witch had turned but stopped. "You heard what I said, didn't you? Someone will be here soon. Don't worry. He will keep you safe. Despite what I said, he is a good man, and a perfectly good gentleman."
But Morgan shook her head. "That's not it. Well, whoever you were talking about earlier sounds absolutely terrifying. But more importantly, you're a powerful witch."
The witch chuckled. "I'm flattered, but I wouldn't call myself very powerful."
"But you're still a witch," said Morgan. "And by the look of things, a lot better at witch stuff than Circe. You'll be way more helpful than she is. Please, help me find Roger."
With this witch's help, Morgan though, finding Roger will be a snap.
But to her utter disappointment, the witch shook her head and said, "I'm afraid I can't. Even if it's to help you, what I did was a big no-no. I will be in very big trouble if I am caught. I have to lay low until the heat dies down."
"But-!"
The witch cut Morgan off. "I'm sorry, but I have to go now. I definitely can't have that gentleman catch me."
"But you're okay leaving me with him?"
The witch shrugged. "Like I already said, he's a gentleman. He'll keep you safe. I can't promise he will help you either though, seeing as he is what you would call a monster hunter."
Morgan blinked. "A monster hunter?"
The witch nodded. "I did say he's killed before. That's what monster hunters do to monsters. Most people would see that as a good thing. But for people like Roger . . . well, I don't need to explain anymore, do I?"
No, she did not.
“I gave you this advice already, but let me give it to you again,” the witch continue. “Stick to Circe. I know it will be hard to believe, but I guarantee as long as you stay with her, you will find Roger.”
She was right that it was hard for Morgan to believe, especially after Circe had already proved how UN-helpful she was.
“Now, I really must be going,” said the witch. “I wish you luck, Morgan. Farewell.”
“Oh, wait!” Morgan cried out. “I still don’t understand. How is Circe going to help me find Roger? At least tell me what she’s supposed to do!”
The witch didn’t answer. She fled down west, looking more like she was gracefully gliding than she was running. White currents of air cocooned her and when it disappeared, so had she.
