Hunters: A Trilogy (74 page)

Ken and Jane sat in silence. There wasn’t much they felt like saying anyway.

Five minutes later, Maggie was back and gave them each a black coffee laced with some liquor. Ken recognised the taste instantly. Its fiery kick, seemingly laced with honey, fetched some more tears to Jane’s eyes. She looked at Ken and smiled weakly. They sat with Maggie and sipped on their drinks in silence. George’s potion soon worked its magic and they felt the heavy blanket of despondency begin to lift, even if only a little. Ken felt as though he was able breathe again and began to try and figure out what the hell had happened.

Seeing his far-off look, Maggie spoke. ‘So, my dears,’ she said. ‘There we have it, a tragedy for you and a pain that must be almost unbearable, I would imagine…yes, unbearable at the very least!’

She smiled at them and Ken realised the truth behind what Jane had said about Maggie. She looked very much like George. She even sounded like him; Ken was just about to say as much, but was disturbed by the sound of the kitchen door slamming shut. They all heard the Harley Davidson as Tori kicked it into life; the exhaust noise rattling the window panes.

Ken looked at Maggie, watching as she shook her head and smiled.

She said, ‘It’s nothing to worry about, Tori has one final thing to do, one last performance to give, and then the current chapter of this whole sorry tale will be complete. Tomorrow there will be a brand-new day, you’ll see – a bright, shiny new day!’ She gave another sorrowful smile and then turned to gaze out of the window, staring into the darkness without further comment.

Ken didn’t see any bright new tomorrows on his horizon, in fact, he just felt like being sick. He sat in silence, listening to the sound of Tori as she roared away from the farm. He was wondering if he should just ignore the old woman, go and fetch some of his bigger guns and race after the girl. Wherever it was that she was going, Ken knew that it probably wasn’t going to be good.

It was whilst Tori hurled herself through the night that Maggie proceeded to tell Ken and his wife a few things, just a couple of points that perhaps they hadn’t thought of. She lowered her cup and looked at them. Taking a deep breath, Maggie told them how it was.

‘George is my father,’ she said. ‘And, as his wife was a mother to me, so am I to Michael and Tori’s parents. I am their grandmother – Tori and Michael are my direct descendants. We come from a place where time has a completely different meaning. I believe that my father has told you of this. He adores you, by the way. At this precise moment he is not in a fit state to address you. Your grief has been relayed directly to him and he has become quite ill, I am afraid to say. He is very old, even by our standards.’ Maggie looked at them, waiting to see if they had any questions thus far.

They had no questions for her. What would it possibly be they should ask, apart from everything, everything and nothing?

Seeing their response, Maggie said, ‘We have been fighting this Demon for centuries now. He appears in many different disguises, but throughout the ages he has always been there, pushing us towards some new catastrophe or another. Some refer to it as the Dragon!’ Her reference to that particular name, made Ken blink, at least twice.

Maggie continued. ‘This latest escapade, the one in which you have become embroiled, is but another of his little games. We don’t think that he, or it, is directly responsible for any of the events that continue to shape our existence,’ she said. ‘No, it is not like that at all – at least we don’t think so. It is more as though it simply hitches a ride along with whatever the latest cosmic event happens to be. It is a thrill-seeker, a trouble-causing, fairground hooker – it is the Darkness!’

She snorted and shook her head, saying: ‘In this world it has manifested itself as Red’s father…no, I apologise, that is not correct. The Darkness
found
a black hole in the soul of that poor, bereaved man. Found it and filled it. It is very good at that sort of thing! It travels between the different parallels and looks for trouble, as long as there is something, anything, to keep it occupied!’ Maggie rose to her feet, made her way over to the window and stood gazing out into the night.

With her back to them, they heard her say: ‘As soon as it became apparent this was to be the Demon’s new playground, that the Darkness had taken Jeremiah, we decided upon moving to this time in order to keep our eye upon things. I was dispatched to monitor the situation – to try and help Red whenever I could. It was useless, though, he was almost a prisoner on this farm. George told me to wait, wait and have strength, wait until he had found the right ones…’ she turned and looked pointedly at them. ‘So, I waited,’ she said. ‘But Jeremiah was beyond help, the Dark One had taken him, I saw it on his face.’ She shuddered.

Jane spoke. ‘Is it the Devil?’ she asked. ‘Is that what you’re telling us, Maggie?’ She looked towards Ken and he nodded at her in understanding.

Maggie turned and came over to them. She sat on the arm of Jane’s chair and leaned across to stroke her hair. It was a very parental gesture; Jane reached up and took hold of her hand. Maggie looked down at her fondly, saying: ‘Of that, no-one is really sure, we have been dealing with its misdemeanours for millennia and have become somewhat immune to any such thoughts. Its latest game, the one involving the Light Maker and your so-called leaders, their quest for power, the oil, and…and all of their other lies…’ she spat the words out, ‘…these things have kept the Dark One amused for a long time! However, unfortunately for us and for poor Michael, it has found itself trapped within Red’s father – Jeremiah. The man had become so needful of something, anything, to hold onto, that he appears to have captured part of the Demon within himself. It cannot escape and Tori will kill it this very night, only she can kill it, only we as a family have the power to resist its charms.’

She stood, gathered their empty cups and made her way into the kitchen. It was a few minutes before she returned with their fresh drinks. Maggie then proceeded to tell them of how the fun-seeking entity had become obsessed by the endless possibilities the human race had presented. The idea of a total catastrophe excited it, and the Demon had stayed around for much longer than was usual. She told them that it wanted to be there when the final events were played out in all their horror.

Maggie said, ‘What fun that would be for it, can you only imagine?’ She looked at them with the flicker of horror shining in her own eyes. ‘When it became aware of the fact that young Red was to play an inextricable part in the show, and that the boy was to be the link in all of this, it saw an opening and was unable to resist the opportunity. The Dragon saw that if it changed Red into the man who does those terrible things, then it would have opened the door to endless possibilities!’ She paused to take a sip of her drink. Then, continuing, she said, ‘The only problem it has, and one that it has never been able to fully understand, is the well-known fact that things don’t always happen the way we want them to, because fate has its own way of deciding things…’

Maggie explained that in every dimension they had been in, Red was always the key. Just as Jane had realised, they, too, had understood that it was he whom they needed to change. If they managed to do that, then all of the Dragon’s time and effort would have been for nought.

‘We have used many good people along the way to help us with our quest,’ she whispered. ‘Hunters such as yourselves, wonderful people who have willingly made great sacrifices in helping us to ensure the Dragon never quite gets his way.’ Maggie grimaced as she pushed on with her tale. ‘Unfortunately,’ she said, ‘it manages to enter the hearts of many people, slithers its way into their very being, then simply sits back and watches the terrible things that its occupation of the host causes. There is a little piece of the Demon in most people – it has a far reaching influence!’

Ken asked about Mike, he needed to know what had happened to him. He had to know just for his own sanity, he still had Mike’s blood all over his hands; the thighs on his jeans were black with the stuff.

‘Is he dead, really dead, Maggie?’ he whispered.

She looked at him sadly. ‘In this parallel he is, yes, I am afraid so, Kenneth. Very dead, and we must bury him soon for they are waiting for him,’ she said, smiling ruefully. ‘But, exactly as you saw before when you fought Red, what happens in one dimension has no say in other places. Michael has done some irreparable physical damage to Jeremiah. Red’s father is currently down at the apple tree, digging for hidden treasure, the fool!’ She rolled her eyes in despair.

Jane, her voice filled with hope more than anything else, said, ‘But, Mike’s going to be okay somewhere else, is that what you mean? He will be in some other place, happily doing what he always does, he’s just not here, is that what you mean? Tell us… please!’ Her face twisted with the sincerity of her plea.

It was then that Maggie gave them the first piece of good news they’d received for quite a while. With a smile – it was almost a grin, but not exactly, old ladies very rarely grin, especially ones who happen to be as old as Maggie – she lightened their load, even if only a little.

‘Oh yes, absolutely he will be!’ she said. ‘At this precise moment he is sleeping, but in a while he will wake up, wake up in a place where he imagines he has always been. This will all have been just a dream to him, a distant memory.’ Unbelievably, the old woman then proceeded to laugh. ‘Ah, my Michael, he always was such a handful!’ she said, happily.

She then told them that Jeremiah had been running from the Police for months, he had been involved in a brawl in some bar along the way, a man had been killed and Jeremiah had fled to the next county. In panic, he had pawned his pistol and then purchased a hunting knife, the one that Melias was in the process of expertly removing from Red’s huge chest. Eventually, the Demon within had called Jeremiah and he had begun to make his way back home, sticking to the back roads and small hamlets. Keeping a low profile, living off the land and his wits, he had made his way back towards them. His bad timing, or that of fate, was immaculate and had given them enough breathing space to allow the trio to have their way with Red. The portion of putrid hatred and anger which had begun to flower within the young man was effortlessly swept away by the intervention of his new friends.

Maggie informed them that Red’s father had actually been on the farm for three days now, sneaking up to the house at night and watching them, he had probably decided there were too many people there and so had hung back and waited until finally the opportunity presented itself.

It was an opportunity that was not to be long in arriving.

The old woman told them that Tori had decided to hitch a ride out to the farm, as she, Maggie, had been too busy. Tori had always liked the adventure of hitchhiking. She knew one of the neighbours would be along shortly and so, after waving goodbye to her grandmother, Tori had taken a long-legged stride along the road out of town. Maggie told them that she’d said farewell to Tori and had planned to be on the farm herself before sundown.

‘I told her to be careful, we all knew the time was coming,’ she said. ‘We knew Michael was going to have to give of himself, but we just didn’t expect it to be so soon…so soon, or so violent!’ Looking at them, the old woman seemed to age. ‘I hope to the high heavens that she is all right, she is so young and he is so powerful!’ she murmured, walking across to her chair.

After taking a seat and rearranging her gingham dress, their wizened matriarch looked up. With a faint and very bitter smile, Maggie said, ‘Well, let’s just cross our fingers, shall we?’ As she sat and smiled quaintly at them, Maggie was the embodiment of a typical, much-loved, grandmother.

It was hard to imagine her being involved in any of this.

Ken thought about that for a while, that and a few other things, too. However, foremost in his mind lay the desire to go and get some guns. But, it was not to be, not here and not now. Tori had a piece of fate to fulfil tonight.

Here in this parallel, she alone would unveil the Huntress within.

And when she roared, the blood would fly.

Mike’s sister roared from the barn and headed for the back gate. With her black hair flying and blue eyes blazing the young temptress, Tori, raced towards the Demon. She grinned into the dusk, using her left hand to make sure that Ken’s pistol was tucked tightly into the waistband of her jeans, whilst holding the throttle wide open with the right. The stains of Mike’s blood, which lay spattered on her shoes and legs, filled her soul with fire – it was a fearsome blaze, one that burned so brightly it would have been almost unwatchable.

Tori flew through the dusk, the motorcycle beneath throbbing in sympathetic urgency. Michael was with her, she felt his arms around her waist. His magic rode with her, together they fearlessly plunged towards the Dragon. She and her family had been through this scenario many times before, endured it repeatedly – fought it again and again. On more than one occasion they had lost the battle. Many times they had left a broken carcass behind as they fled a particular world with the Demon’s giggling laugher following them.

It wasn’t always about blood and death, no, on many an occasion it had been more about simply stopping the childish games the Demon liked to play. Red and the Light Maker were just the latest toys it had been amusing itself with. Well, this was one game she wasn’t going to lose. Michael had given himself to the cause, his was the ultimate Gift and Tori had no idea when or where she would see him again. She had lost him once more, but she would find him again, one day soon she would find him.

But for now she had two things on her mind, the Demon and Red. She would deal with them in that order, deal with each of them differently – her emotions for both men were also different, entirely different feelings altogether.

‘Love and hate,’ her great grandfather had told her, ‘are very similar emotions – the trick is learning how to use them, my dear.’