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Sharon’s Note: Car chase! I’ve always wanted to write a car chase! Warning: Author having too good a-time.

---

Ruben pulled me towards his car. I tried to pull away, saying that we needed to call the cops. This protest quickly died when another black van came around the corner. Then I was dragging him forward until he dug in his heels to stop me from passing his vehicle. 

 The car was small and sporty. It peeled out in a sharp arc, causing the van to slam its breaks to stop from hitting us. The passenger side door and side rolling door opened, and two black-clad forms, twins to the ones that had snatched Katy, jumped out. They stalked towards the car with long, odd strides like stop motion puppets, then Ruben stomped on the gas. The tires screamed, and the figures lunged forward, trying to grab the bumper. All they got was a handful of smoke.

As we sped away, I watched in the rear-view mirror as the men jumped back into the van. I buckled in and asked, “This thing is fast, right?”

“Oh, yeah.” Ruben’s smile curled into something that was almost obscene. I was flattened against the seat as somehow, we accelerated even more. 

Faster than I would have thought possible, the van careened around the corner, hot on our trail. I squeeked, “Oh god, they’re going to catch us.”

“No,” Ruben chuckled maniacally, “They’re not.”

Our mad dash through the city started in earnest. I lost track of the hard turns. The screech of tires and blaring car horns assaulted us from every side. Somehow, the van kept pace with us through the labyrinth of the city, actually sideswiping a little hatchback rather than lose speed. When we crossed the last overpass at the edge of town and hit open highway, suddenly Ruben’s car could use its full speed, and we quickly left the van behind.

My heart was hammering, and my coffee wasn’t sitting well in my stomach, but I was alive, and it felt great. “So, where to now?”

“Now, after we drive around some to make sure we lose those morons, we go and follow up on my lead.” Ruben’s breathing was heavy as he was coming down from the adrenaline. “The only way we’re going to actually be able to beat these guys is to find out why they’re after us. I obviously found something out when I talked to this contact, and I must have told it to you. If we find out what it was, then we’ll have some leverage over them.” 

“Do you think Katy’s going to be ok?” I asked, hesitantly. 

He was silent for a long moment, before shrugging. “Maybe? They wiped our memories, but didn’t hurt us. Maybe that’s all they’ll do to her.”

“Yeah. Yeah sure.” I swallowed hard to keep from tearing up and changed the subject. “So, who are we going to go see?”

“Well, I don’t remember his name, but I know the facility he was in. I’m hoping one of the nurses will know who I talked to last time I was there.” Ruben was staring hard at the road.

“So, he’s at a hospital? What’s wrong with him?” I cocked my head to the side.

“I don’t know exactly but um . . . it’s a psychiatric hospital.”

“Our best hope is a crazy guy?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

Ruben nodded, looking resigned. “Yep.”

---

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Sharon’s note: Kids, am I right? Warning: One bad word and a sympathetic situation.

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“Shut up!” Sunny wailed. 

“The monster under the bed’s gonna eat your face!” Jimmy crowed, and tore across the living room to avoid his sister’s wrath. 

She tried to run after him, but she caught her toe on the carpet and fell face first. Rolling to her side, she wailed, “Mom! Jimmy’s being a jerk.”

“Leave your sister alone.” Susan, their mother murmured, not bothering to look up from her textbooks on the table. 

Out of his mother’s line of sight, Jimmy faced away from his sister, pulled down his pajama bottoms, and waved his behind at his sister.

“Mom!” Sunny bellowed. “Jimmy’s waving his ass!”

“Hey, language!” Susan snapped her head up to glare at her daughter. Of course, by the time she looked at her oldest child, he had pulled up his pants, and was literally batting his eyelashes to look innocent.

His mother didn’t believe him for a second, but she was tired. Giving up for the night, she barked, “Bed!”

Both children forgot their squabble and united in an effort to whine their way out of bedtime. Susan was having none of it, and eventually herded them off to their perspective bedrooms. With blessed silence decending upon the house, she took her book to study in bed. 

When she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore, she put the book on her nightstand and turned off the light. Staring into the dark, she asked, “Was I ever that much of a brat when I was a kid?”

“Oh, yes.” A voice from under the bed chuckled. 

“Quiet, you.” Susan kick the side of the bed with her heel, causing the monster to laugh harder before she turned over to go to sleep.

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James’s Note: In this episode, I will admit to a bit of introductory exposition, but hopefully it is fun and witty exposition. We also learn a little about what a Witcher Man is, although it’ll be a few more episodes before we learn what it really means to do this job.

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The look Damien gave me indicated that he thought I was a waste of money, but he was too loyal to Wolfgang to contradict him out loud. To be fair, my rates are pretty high. At least when I make people pay in cash, anyway. In my defense, a lot of times I don’t make people pay at all, so the jackasses I don’t like have to pick up the slack. 

The wolves would be paying in cash because they had plenty, and besides, they already owed me a couple of big favors. Their money came from the tithe the pack members had to pay to the alpha. The favors they owed me came from a couple years ago when one of their pack had gotten into a tiny little altercation with a local vampire and sorta cleaved his head in two with a piece of scrap iron. This rendered the admittedly foolish vampire into an odd smelling pile of dust, and almost started a war. 

With the vampires howling for blood (both puns intended), Wolfgang asked for my help. With a judicious application of bribery, calling in favors and my knowledge of archaic vampire customs, I was able to make peace. The transgressing werewolf got off light, only having to make a very generous blood donation to the vampires, since werewolf blood seems to be a little like vampire meth.

“Alright, you talked me into it,” I said jauntily, popping up like a jack in the box and grabbing the keys to my Mini, “but I’m driving. No offense, but wolves either drive like old ladies or NASCAR drivers on crack, so I’ll follow you.” 

Damien stared at me for just a second, before shaking his head in resignation. “Fine,” he said, “I’ll text you the address on the way.” He turned and was almost out the door when I shouted, “You know you really shouldn’t text and drive.” 

He stopped, almost visibly had a small brain aneurysm, then proceeded out of the office without turning. Feeling quite pleased with myself, I whipped around my office, gathering everything I might need to bring along. Most of it was already in my messenger bag, which I grabbed. It contained all the bits and bobs I needed to do magic, as well as a few gizmos and concoctions I had prepared so they’d be ready to play rock and roll. 

The contents of the bag were pretty varied, considering the wide variety of magics I practiced. That’s sort of the defining characteristic of a Witcher Man. I’m a magical generalist who studies everything from alchemy, shamanism, and druidism, to demonology, necromancy, and blood magic. 

It’s those so called “dark arts” that give Witcher Men their fearsome reputation. Even though the “big bag of tricks” magical style is what screams “Witcher Man” to most people, it’s not really what the job is all about. I learned to be a Witcher Man from my father, and he taught me that what makes the Witcher Man is having an answer for every situation. It might not always be the best answer, but Witcher Men always find a solution. That’s why we are sort of the all around problem solvers for the supernatural world.

Sometimes, it also means we’re the last resort.

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James’s Note: A lot of my writing is inspired by old folk songs. This one is based on sea shanties. I always love it when an author can write something new that, if you didn’t know better, you’d swear was a traditional song. “The Hanging Tree” from The Hunger Games is a great example.

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I took a walk down by the sea,

Loly, loly, lee

I took a walk down by the sea

and asked the Sea to marry me.

Oh good golly look and see

Loly, loly, lee

“I’m too wealthy,” said the Sea,

Loly, loly, lee

“I’m too wealthy,” said the Sea,

“Half the world belongs to me.”

Oh good golly look and see

Loly, loly, lee

“I’ll bring you precious jewels,” said me.

Loly, loly, lee

“I’ll bring you precious jewels,” said me,

“From mountains high above the Sea.”

Oh good golly look and see

Loly, loly, lee

“What care I for mountains?” said the Sea.

Loly, loly, lee

“What care I for mountains?” said the Sea.

“One day they will fall to me.”

Oh good golly look and see

Loly, loly, lee

“Oh, I will never leave,” said me.

Loly, loly, lee

“Oh, I will never leave,” said me.

“and dwell forever by the sea.”

Oh good golly look and see

Loly, loly, lee

“But I’m unfaithful,” said the Sea.

Loly, loly, lee

“But I’m unfaithful,” said the Sea.

“Ask the sailors lost to me.”

Oh good golly look and see

Loly, loly, lee

“Is there no way that you’ll have me?”

Loly, loly, lee

“Is there no way that you’ll have me?”

“And be my love,” I begged the Sea.

Oh good golly look and see

Loly, loly, lee

“Come drown beneath my waves,” said she.

Loly, loly, lee

“Come drown beneath my waves,” said she

“And always you’ll belong to me.”

Oh good golly look and see

Loly, loly, lee

I took a walk down by the sea,

Loly, loly, lee

I took a walk down by the sea

and that’s the last they heard of me.

Oh good golly look and see

Loly, loly, lee

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---

James’s Note: This micro fiction is actually the story that inspired what may someday become a short story collection. It’s all about the strange little things that keep the world safe. Just like a certain spider you may have heard of.

---

“Iron Bane! Iron Bane!” roared the monstrous army, their cries shaking the heavens. The ranks were filled with pooka war dogs, troll berserkers, knocker siege engineers, and countless other nightmare soldiers.

Their Master, the Faerie Lord Rothar, Iron Bane, thrust his spear into the air in time with their chant. Finally, he slammed the butt of his spear into the hillside with the sound of cracking thunder. The army fell silent as he addressed them.

“For too long have we waited! For too long have we languished, trapped in Faerie, barred from the human world! The world they stole from us!”

The Faerie Lord pointed with his spear at the glowing portal on the ground. It was ringed by the glowing ghostly shapes of toadstools. “Now, at last, the fairy ring is open. We will pour through this portal like a tide of death. I have seen into their world. They have built cities bigger than ever before, and bred in numbers unimagined. We shall crush their cities into rubble, and hunt the humans like the swine they are!”

The army went wild, their roars deafening. Just as the lord was about to begin his invasion, the portal began to pulse. Rothar looked on in horror as he saw something was going horribly wrong.

The army began to riot, as they saw the glowing translucent toadstools disappearing. The portal collapsed in on itself, vanishing in a blinding white flash.

The fairy lord fell to his knees, and cried out in anguish as his invasion of Earth was defeated before it had even begun.

On the other side of the portal, a mother and her young son were going for a nice walk in the  park on the hill. Willie, who had just turned six yesterday, was chasing after his new puppy, who may have been part terrier, but was probably mostly mop.

At the top of the hill, he had seen a huge ring of toadstools. He knew those popped up sometimes after it rains. He thought they were called a fairy ring, but he couldn’t remember where he’d heard that. So, he did exactly what any child his age would do and began attacking them with a vengeance.

His puppy, knowing how these games were played, merrily pounced them as Willie sent mushrooms flying with every kick. Just as he was thoroughly decimating the ring, his mother called him back over.

“What were you doing?” she asked quizzically.

He gave her a sunny smile. “Kicking over a mushroom ring.”

“Why were you doing that?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know, Mom. It’s just what you do.”

“You know you’re a strange child, right?” his mother said with a fond smile.

“Yep!” he exclaimed,, grinning as though this were the highest of praise.

He and his mother, puppy in tow, headed back to the car, oblivious to the fact that they had just saved the world.

Lucky for us, the world is full of strange children.

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James’s Note: In this episode, we learn a bit about werewolves. In the Witcher Man world, you get all sorts, from the Lon Chaney wolf man to the giant dire wolf types. There might even be stranger things creeping around the shadows. You’ll have to follow the story to find out what they are.

---

The scene showed an alleyway that had probably been disgusting before it was splattered with blood and gore. Judging from the ancient food waste moldering in every corner, I really hoped it wasn’t behind any restaurant I had ever eaten at.

The central figure in all the pictures was the corpse of what had probably once been a white male in his forties. It was torn into several pieces and while it was just my expert opinion, I’d have bet that a lot of the bits that humans generally have were absent. 

From the tooth marks, which were enormous, I’d also have bet that they were currently making their way through something’s digestive tract. However, the really interesting bit was the four deep, uniform furrows that bisected the upper torso. 

Damien pointed to the photo that was a closeup of the victim’s chest. “Since Wolfgang insists that you’re an expert on all creatures both natural and supernatural, I’m sure I don’t have to remind you of a basic fact of biology. Wolves don’t have claws.”

As much as I hate to admit it, the overcompensating bastard had a point. Damian’s type of werewolf couldn’t have done this, at least not without tools that would be more at home in a butcher shop. Yes, there are different kinds of werewolves, just like there are different types of ghosts, demons, and vampires, not to mention the miscellaneous undead. Don’t even get me started on zombies, but I digress. 

While there are technically a smorgasbord of wolf like monsters out there, most of them are so rare as to be unheard of. Damian’s species is what you might call the common werewolf, although not to their faces. They spend most of their time pretty close to human, except they could hit like a delivery truck hauling protein bars and heal as if they had access to starfleet technology.

On the full moon, they turned into especially large wolves, although that is a little misleading. They’re really just the size most people think wolves are, rather than the substantially less impressive size most wolves actually are. They’d tip the scales about even with a really well fed Great Dane whose owners love him a little too much. 

The full moon is the only time they can change, and the change is mandatory. They mostly keep their human minds, although I have it on good authority that the wolf mind sees the world a little different. For one thing, the smell centric world view can make things really interesting. Luckily, in human form they only had human senses. 

Of course, no matter their form, silver is the Grim Reaper incarnate for werewolves. Not only does it halt their crazy healing, it’s toxic. It’s not quite as toxic to them as some movies make out, but a silver bullet lodged in their flesh will slowly give them a type of blood poisoning that looks a lot like a human dying of infection as the silver starts corrupting their cells. 

There are other ways to introduce silver into the werewolf body. I’ve had to use a few of them, although a werewolf dieing of a particularized silver injection is not something I’d wish on anyone.

“Whatever did this is obviously not a wolf”, Damien said haughtily, “I think it’s just some other kind of shapeshifter, like a bear, or tiger, but we’ve searched our territory extensively and can’t find any sign of it. Wolfgang thinks it might be something stranger, so he wants you to investigate. He’s willing to pay your exorbitant rates.” 

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Sharon’s Note: So I wrote this on a dare from my husband. I haven’t written poetry since high school, so if it’s bad, blame him. Warning: Potentially emo poetry.

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 She couldn’t get up 
when the world made her fall,
so she got to her knees 
and started to crawl.

Pain shook its head 
with a pitying frown
“It would be so much easier 
if you’d just stay down.”

“No one would blame you 
if you were to stay.
If they were you, they’d 
take the easier way.”

“I would blame me,” 
She growled to her Pain.
“Because this is my court,
 and you do not reign.”

“I’ll not bow my head 
to something I feel.
It’s me that you serve, 
and to me that you’ll kneel.”

“Many submit,
if they feel they can’t win.
If you were to fight,
where would you begin?” 

Wiping the blood 
with the back of her hand,
she fought to her feet 
and made herself stand.

With tears in her eyes 
she braced with her heart,
And declared to her Pain,
 “So here’s where we start.”

 

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Sharon’s note: Sometimes you have to make a choice between something you want to do, and a friend. Sometimes you choose wrong. Warning: Bad things.

---

I was missing time from Friday night to Sunday morning. Ruben was missing an entire week, from Monday to Sunday. That wasn’t the only dissimilarity. People had seen him during his missing time, and had he only disappeared off the map since the same Friday night I had. While he had also had a headache Sunday and Monday, but no nose leech had appeared. The headache had gone away without incident. 

He also didn’t have my phone.

“So why did you want to meet?” Katy wrinkled her nose. “You could have said told us over the phone that you had nothing to say. You had my number, and it would have saved everyone the drive.”

“Because I didn’t want to say anything over the phone, in case it wasn’t safe.” He leaned forward so he could lower his voice.

“What are you talking about?” Katy looked horrified. “God, you’re a conspiracy nut on top of everything else.”

I didn’t say anything, because as he mentioned things not being safe, my eyes happened to drift across the street. There was a black van with windows too dark to see through parked next to Katy’s car. It was the same one that had nearly hit us earlier. 

I jumped when Ruben addressed me directly. “You see it, don’t you? The van? One’s been following me since Sunday. I’ll bet one’s been following you too. Something’s going on.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Katy scoffed. “There’s more than one black van in the city. You. Are. Crazy!”

Ruben shrugged. “Maybe, but there’s something going on.”

I spoke before Katy could. “I know. I . . . I’ve seen some things. What do you think we should do?”

A mischievous grin split Ruben’s face. “I have one more lead. A friend told me before I came here, that last Tuesday, during the time I’m missing, I went out of town to visit a guy. It had something to do with the legend I was researching.”

“What legend were you researching?” I leaned forward, eager to finally get somewhere.

“I don’t know.” He admitted. “Not only can I not remember, all my notes are missing. My computer turned into a brick and anything on paper is gone too.”

“This is nuts. You’re both crazy. There are no people in black vans running around, stealing stuff for your blog. You probably were just high off your ass, and gave whatever you had to Beth, so now neither of you remember. I am so done with this. Come on, Beth. We’re leaving.” Katy got to her feet and walked a good two yards before she realized I wasn’t following her. She said again, “Beth, come on.”

“Sorry.” I shook my head. “I’m staying to figure this out.”

Just staring at me for a moment, Katy seemed split, but I wasn’t surprised when she spun silently on her heel and walked away. We hadn’t been friends for months, after all. That was my fault. Too much partying, and a stupid night with her boyfriend that had cost her both of us. I’d never been anything but trouble to her. That was my fault too.

  “So, what do we do?” I asked Ruben again, not having a right to the sinking feeling in my stomach as I watched over his shoulder. 

Ruben replied, but I didn’t hear, because as Katy approached her car, the door of the black van started to open. The rolling side door was on the opposite side of the van from Katy’s car, so as she walked between, she wouldn’t have seen. An arm all in black reached out of the door and grabbed the top of the van. A second later a body was hauled up, looking like a zombie swat member as to crawled across the roof of the van.

“Hey, Ruben . . .” I began, interrupting whatever he was saying, but everything that happened next went so fast, I never found out what I was going to say next.

Another black form shot out of the passenger door of the van just as the first skittered across the roof like a lizard. The first grabbed Katy by the arm, and hauled her up and away, dragging her across the top of the van then inside in less than two seconds. The second form grabbed the keys from where Katy dropped them, and hopped into her car. Both vehicles peeled out, almost in sequence, and rushed away, tires screaming.

Shooting to my feet, I screamed, “Katy!”

---

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James’s Note: The adventures of the Witcher Man continues. His interaction with the werewolves is based on the novels I keep reading were all the werewolves are involved in screwed up, abusive relationships. His opinions are my way of calling them out.

---

It’s not that Damien’s display of toxic masculinity wasn’t impressive. Even in his completely human form his teeth almost seemed a bit, well, toothier than you would expect from a true homo-sapiens. The faint gold tint to the eyes was also a nice touch, although he was probably counting on the whole “stronger than a roided out Austrian” thing to put the fear of wolf into me.

 Yeah, that wasn’t going to work. I had been mauled by scarier things than him.

Judging by the vein on his forehead preparing to go full Vesuvius and the characteristic “prelude to an ass-whooping” eye bulge he was performing, I decided I better head this off before he did something we’d both regret. I dropped my feet to the floor and leaned forward. 

“Look Damien. You can can the lupine machismo. We both know Wolfgang has declared me off-limits. You’re big, bad, and have especially large genitals. Good for you. Unless you’re ready to have a throw down with your Alpha over breaking his edict, why don’t we just cut the crap and you can tell me what he needs my help with.”

Yes, their Alpha’s name really is Wolfgang. He’s German, so it might even be legit, although I wouldn’t bet a testicle on it. He also really had given me “definitely not a chew toy” status, although that was about half owing me favors, and half unspoken fear of what I might do in retaliation. Nobody really wants to piss off the Witcher Man.

The little demon on my left shoulder kinda did want to him to try something, just so I could educate him in the finer points of humility. But, as the annoying little bastard on my right shoulder would no doubt point out, perforating him with six or so rounds of silver .357 magnum would surely cause me some kind of political problems down the line. Also, it would probably be bad karma.

Unfortunately, that last part isn’t me being sarcastic. In my line of work, when evil can at times be weighed and measured, the state of your soul weighs on your mind a bit.

Damian’s face went through a complex series of contortions and spasms as he damn near decided to kill me anyway. Luckily, murder finally lost the battle and he sat back down. Trying to salvage some remnant of dignity, he straightened the collar of his spotless black polo shirt. Between that and his fashionable black jeans, he looked such the perfect image of a bouncer that I had an unbearable urge to give him a fake ID. 

Finally composing himself, Damien said, “I’m here because there have been two murders in our territory. Normally we wouldn’t care, but these were obviously humans who were killed by something that wasn’t. Our problem is, these killings are a threat to secrecy and what’s worse, all the other city leaders are convinced it was a werewolf that did the killing.” 

I stroked my woefully underdeveloped (read non-existent) beard. This seemed like it might get interesting. “And what makes you so sure it wasn’t one of your wolves?” I asked. In response, Damien took a folder from his briefcase and laid it on my desk. I opened it to reveal a series of gruesome crime scene photos.

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Sharon’s Note: Not all that that is scary is bad. Warning: 😉

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“So, how is he doing?” The nurse asked. Her eyes were wide, and she put a hand to her chest.

“He’s . . . “ The doctor’s voice trailed, and he looked back towards the door he’d just come through. His voice took on an airy, puzzled tone. “He’s absolutely fine.”

“Oh the poor. . . wait, what?” The nurse was pulled short in her well practiced spiel of pity.

“He’s fine.” The doctor repeated, still puzzled, but his voice more sure. “When he was picked up, the team reported that he was shaken, but basically alright. When we got him into holding, he was responsive, articulate, and he even asked if he could have some coffee.”

“Maybe,” The nurse ventured, “Maybe we were wrong, maybe he didn’t see. . .”

“Oh, he saw.” The doctor waved his hand back and forth. “I asked him. He looked into the Abyss.”

“But why wasn’t he afraid? Why wasn’t he broken like all the rest?” The nurse hugged herself. “Did it not look back this time?”

The doctor shook his head. “Oh, he said that it looked back, alright. He’s also pretty sure it winked.”

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