The bounty’s location was Banyan’s Hallow, a small forgotten town in the interior of Florida. The provided information was minimal at best, not that this was new. According to the bounty there was a wild fae terrorizing citizens. The description given said it was tall dark figure that would attack people who crossed its path too late at night. The rest of the info had to be gotten from the bounty giver, Donald O’Mara, who worked for the local government.

The only feature that stood out in the one Road Town was the massive Banyan that could be easily seen from the edge of town. It was so big in fact that even Michael was surprised as he took a moment to observe it. The trunk had to be thicker than a house as the twisting canopy spread outwards into an ever-reaching umbrella above the collection of buildings. From the angle he entered at the tree’s vibrant green leaves glittered like jewels under the sun, but the moment he turned down the street toward their meeting spot, he could see that half the tree was damaged. Like Jekyll and Hyde, the hidden side was warped and blackened by the scars of fire. Whatever had happened had etched itself into the trunk in a painful display. Michael gave a slight wince at the sight of the damage.  

Close by the tree he found a little renovated wood panel house. It looked inconspicuous among the other residential building and Michael would have even missed it if not for Giselle’s black jeep that sat parked in the gravel parking spot out front. He parked next to her and saw a plain wooden sign that marked this as the Banyan’s Hallow Historical Society. Mirrored scrolling leaves flanked the words with a simplistic relief carving of a woman with branches in her hair leaned against the words.

This was the right place.

Taking a deep breath, Michael prepared himself for Giselle and headed in.

Giselle sat with her short clad legs crossed in the tiny front foyer of the house. Stacks of regional and home décor magazines covered the table next to her as flipped through the local paper, her impatient scowl nearly carved into her face. The sound of footsteps disrupted her as she looked up at him.

“Hey.”

With a nod, she sighed and put her paper down. “I’ve been waiting for 15 now. He still hasn’t come out.”

At first Michael thought this was aimed at him and he was about to protest. He had been quite fast once she gave him the call. But it quickly dawned on him that she meant this Donald guy as he just leaned back on his heels. “Does he know you arrived?”

Her glare told him how idiotic she thought his question was before she nodded. “Of course. I checked in the moment I got here and still haven’t seen him.”

As if on cue, the door on the other side of the room slowly opened as an older pale gentleman with dark black hair and soft brown eyes came out. His elegantly carved cane tapped along behind him as he leaned heavily on it, his left leg slightly limping with each step. Giselle fixed her disgruntled appearance. As much as she hated being made to wait, she knew half the job was building a friendly relationship. A shockingly youthful smile replaced her scowl as she walked forward to meet him halfway.

“Mr. O’Mara?” Her tone was light but professional, a far cry from the gruff and, at times, shrill voice Michael had experienced when he entered this world. If he hadn’t seen her acting normally a few seconds ago he would have thought Giselle had been replaced by a changeling.

“Aye, you’re Giselle Ortega?”  Mr. O’Mara offered his hand to Giselle as she firmly took it and gave a nod.

“Yes, we’re here about the bounty.” Quickly she pulled up the request as well as her hunting ID, Michael went to do the same, but the old man mostly ignored him for Giselle. Mr. O’Mara gave a satisfactory nod before he motioned for them to join him in his office.

A plain pale office greeted them. The small space was filled with little as a single white bookshelf framed the window and overlooked a sturdy desk that only had a few documents printed out on top. A water cooler hummed in the background as he gestured for them to take a seat in a matching set of chairs before sliding behind his desk.

“Thank you for coming out so fast. When Patrick said he had a friend who could help, I was afraid he was just playing with this old man’s heart.”

“Both of us are experienced hunters. We will be able to handle it.” With a straight back, Giselle pulled out a small notebook from her side ready to take notes.

“That’s good to hear. You already know the amount we’re willing to pay if this problem is resolved.”

“The listing said $5,000.”

“Correct. There is a chance for tip if it’s handled quickly.” At the mention of additional payment, Giselle became even more attentive as Michael watched the scene somewhat amused.

At the end of the day he found it way shadier than he liked, but at the same time the money was good and if things got too dangerous, he was not opposed to just running. The only thing was there was something around that made his skin kind of itch. Not like a bite or hives, just a slightly discomfort that ever so often would flare up. He hadn’t noticed it when he first entered the town, but now that he had time to sit it became somewhat distracting. Maybe he had gotten bitten by some no-see-ums while out with Alexander yesterday.  

“We’ve both read the information provided. But can you give us more details.” Giselle pressed on with her work.

Mr. O’Mara calmly answered each of Giselle’s questions. But as more details came forward the odder this beast sounded. From a variety of shapes to several different calling signs and marks, it felt more like a blind man had thrown a few darts at a board of fae descriptor than an actual creature. It wasn’t like Michael’s knowledge of fae was not all inclusive, but these characteristics fit everything from Hag to a Barghest. Hell, even it could even be a Chupacabra, he had heard it vacationed in Florida. Either way, the more he described it, the more uneasy Michael felt.

Giselle just nodded along. Occasionally she added her suggestions and ideas before all her questions were exhausted. Her last request was a tour around the town to view all the spots the creature had been seen in.

The old man’s attention never left Giselle; it was only when they were finally about to leave that he even gave Michael a slight glance because Giselle patted his shoulder.

“I’ll show you around our town.” Mr. O’Mara took the lead and they left the building on a golf cart around the back.

Even for an old small town, Banyan’s Hallow felt empty. It wasn’t quite abandoned. Buildings looked well maintained and there wasn’t any common signs of age and erosion which meant things weren’t allowed to crumble in Florida’s weather. It was just…empty.

Giselle seemed unbothered as she kept up her questions while she marked each location on a simple town map Mr. O’Mara had given her.

There was only one main street in this town. Both sides were filled with an assortment of small businesses that sat closed on the weekdays. Their goods could be somewhat seen through the glint of the glass. He made out a bakery, card shop and pharmacy as they cruised by. Everything looked relatively freshly painted as their wooden carved signs mirrored the one outside the Historical Building. The green scroll followed by some form of a lady’s figure in relief. But there was no business. No people. From the corner he saw a few citizens, but they quickly headed into the alley between buildings and disappeared from his sight.

“Where is everyone?” Finally, Michael spoke unable to shake the uncomfortable feeling. A series of red flags were going off and he couldn’t figure out what the whole picture was.

It took Mr. O’Mara a second to answer him as he had been chatting with Giselle who had taken shotgun next to him. The old man frowned and then sighed as if the question was pointless. “A lot of folk moved to live with their folks once the trouble starts. It’s hit our economy hard, that’s why we’re hoping the monster will be caught soon.”

A fine enough answer, but something still didn’t sit right with him as Mr. O’Mara returned to ignoring him in favor of Giselle.

As they reached the edge of town, Michael noticed a Milhouse close to the forest. It looked cartoonishly picturesque next to town as a large windmill leisurely spun in the breeze. Before Michael could ask, Giselle also took notice and asked. From what Mr. O’Mara said, it was an original feature left over from the town’s settling over a hundred years ago. There used to be a lot more farmlands and agriculture, but now the Milhouse was the only remnant and their Historical Society helped to maintain it along with the town hall, community center and their center town piece, the Banyan.

At the mention of the Banyan, their golf cart pulled up front of it. Hopping off, Michael approached the tree while Mr. O’Mara told Giselle about the numerous creature sightings that had been seen around the tree.

“What happen to her?” Michael rested a hand on the scarred trunk, a hint of familiarity chased away the itch he had felt. There was a clear beat of life even under the charred wood. With a little effort, he gave a bit of his energy to the tree and it responded in kind. The feedback was clearly that of a World Root as his heart soared. But he couldn’t prod any farther as he drew his hand back. Even if it was connected, the damage done to it was too extensive and the signal was weak. At best, this root would need decades to recover to a useful state.

“There was a fire a few years ago. It hit the park area hard. Luckily, we were able to get to it before anything else was damage.” Mr. O’Mara affectionately patted the tree. Then turned to them with the same unwavering smile he had worn this entire trip. “Do you want to hear the story of our town’s founding?”

The abrupt question made Michael instantly want to say no, but Giselle was far more curious as she thought it might have something to do with their mysterious monster. After all, old things could accumulate power and when that happened it was hard to predict what the outcome would be.

“Over a hundred years ago our town’s founder came out here to stake a claim on the open land. While traveling though the marsh, he came across a beautiful maiden in the shade of a banyan tree. It was love at first sight, but when he approached her to ask for her hand in marriage, she only said no. He persisted but she always told him no until a few years went by and she took pity on the fool. She revealed that she was not a woman but the tree that stood before him. Still the man was unwilling to give up his love. Even if they couldn’t be together, he could stay near her. But as time went by, he eventually found a human wife. But he never moved, growing his family in the shade of the Banyan where his first love lived. Eventually the town grew, and she became its patron. Normally we have all sorts of festivals to celebrate our history and our guardian, but with the young ones gone and our remaining citizens getting older, it’s been less vibrant in recent years.” Mr. O’Mara gave a dry chuckle before he patted the tree one more time and they returned to the cart. Neither hunter spoke as they thought about this maiden.

After experiencing the Boggart earlier, he felt that there was a chance that the Maiden was real and corrupted. After all that tree was a World Root. The Triplets were similar in some ways, they were offspring of the Mother Tree and there had been incidents in lower worlds were a World Root would gain sentience and eventually ascend to the Overworld.

Giselle was on a similar train of thought, except she thought it was a creature born from the belief in the lore rather than the tree itself. 

Either way the banyan occupied their mind throughout the rest of the tour. They ended back at the historical society building. The only motel in town wasn’t open so Mr. O’Mara offered his house for their stay since he lived alone and had plenty of room. Giselle again took lead and happily agreed since it meant they could save on lodging expenses.

What was left of the day was spent around town as they looked for people to speak with. But the few they found either avoided them or only repeated by Mr. O’Mara had said.

After the tenth time they had heard the same thing, Michael convinced Giselle gave up on their information quest for the day. The sun began to set anyway. She didn’t put up much of a fight as they found the old man’s house. It was a quaint little two-story cottage style house with light gray paneling and white trim. The lawn was well maintained with only a few hibiscus bushes in the front. The flowers had yet to bloom which made the whole thing feel manufactured. Like an image out of one of the home décor magazines.  

Mr. O’Mara was waiting for them with dinner already on the stove. Giselle happily dined and chatted with the old man about everything under the sun. It was a bit odd, but Michael passed it off as Giselle’s character setting evolving. Either way he just picked at the bland food in front of him. Eventually he had enough and excused himself to go bring in their gear and check their weapons. Mr. O’Mara had given them a room on the upper floor so as he set Giselle’s duffel on the bed, he pulled his own backpack into his lap.

He packed pretty light as he laid out his shotgun along with a collection of salt and iron pelts, his bowie knife, a handgun and a few more odd bullet types in case they ran into a rare type of fae. Besides that there was his jar of ground iron and salt, a scrying stone and wrapped present. He hadn’t noticed the little box before, but he knew exactly who put it in there.

“Sneaky bastard.” Michael smiled and opened the box. Inside was a cord bracelet, it looked quite regular under the lamp light. The light beige cording was woven with a line of black with a singular cowrie shell in the middle. Really it looked like any braided bracelet you could get in a gift shop in Florida. It was almost a shock the state’s name wasn’t written across the shell. But it wasn’t the form that mattered as he slid on the bracelet. Even if Hunter was anti-magic, the spells that had been woven into the novelty by passed this small world’s restrictions as he felt Alexander’s seal craft in action. The man must have finished it while he was asleep. It wasn’t his best work but given how little time Alexander had it was more than acceptable as Michael played with the shell.

Before Giselle came up, he went to call Alexander but found the other didn’t pick up. So, he instead took a picture of the bracelet on his wrist and texted him. Writing out a thanks, he was distracted when Giselle entered and collapsed on the bed. She didn’t even check her duffel as she rolled over with her boots still on. Michael had already figured he would get the couch, so he quickly washed up and sent a few more texts to update Alexander about what was going on as well as a good night.

Unknown to Michael, Alexander was currently under intense investigation that made picking up the phone impossible.

A/N

Author is just going to hide in a hole somewhere and die. While the husbands might not have shame, this little author is not so shameless. Not depicted: my various joking tangents when writing the smut. Chomp Chomp. Also, they do have a sex code. It’s important for avoiding any long-term problems. Rule number one: Always use lube. More will be revealed with time. On the editing front, this bitch ended up almost 6K. Jesus.