In a breath, Michael slipped free.

His connection far from severed, but at that moment, he was not wholly Hunter Clarke. Instead, he lived within the man’s mind, a shadow that clung to the freshly formed being. These moments exemplified the odd nature of a world developer. An invader whose goal was to build something from nothingness. Both creator and victim to the unstoppable tide of convoluted time and space. He enjoyed this momentary contradiction before returning to his work.

Like a flicker across a pool, he sensed Brody’s approach. It was nothing too strong. A simple probe that Michael easily guided from a distance as he led them to the first memory.

Something old and near-forgotten. A scene made from emotions and a single point of focus. A not too uncommon theme of childhood memories. A decent choice in Michael’s opinion as he lazily watched the scene play out.

A mistreated PA system muffled and warped familiar Christmas music into a horrendous static that rang out in contrast to the shouts and screams of those who rode the few rides that made up the original Easterland. Still, for the 9-year-old Hunter, the half-busted lights and rusted metal were more fascinating than the maps and globes at home. Shelly had already run ahead, her destination the only roller coaster in the park. To Michael’s eyes, it was questionable at best with flaking paint and an under-prepared teenage staff. But to a child, it was exciting. Whether the entire place was a death trap did not matter.

Drawn in by the childish excitement, Michael walked alongside the kids until they reached the entrance of the ride. Yet before they reached the queue, he felt Brody move on. With a slight hesitation, Michael followed.

In the summer between sophomore and junior year, Hunter laid sprawled out on a beanbag chair in the hideout. The world twisted as wood panels and posters tangled and curled into abstract shapes. Finally, his eyes rested on Shelly, who swept the dust off the balcony before leaning on her broom. She stared down at her little bro and spoke, but the words melted into nothingness. A haziness softened the world around him.  Hot as hell and high as the clouds, Hunter continued to waver in and out of consciousness. Brody did not linger though and took Michael with him.

Again and again, Brody hopped through the collective memories that were Hunter. And with each move, Michael followed. Assigned the role of the passive observer, he had little desire to interrupt the deep dive. It was only when Brody brushed past a particular memory that Michael act.

The first meeting between Hunter and Neil was a common act for the husbands and, while cute, Brody didn’t need to know. Instead, Michael fed him one about a fae hunt. Nothing damning, but definitely a little embarrassing as Hunter tried to capture a water sprite in a water park.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed as Michael kept curating the vision. Anytime something with Neil came up, he would veto it and find a better replacement. Finally, after so many memories, Brody finally settled onto a recent event.

Nothing grandiose. A simple scene with two players as Hunter sat across from Mama Clarke. Once more Michael invaded the scene, sliding in to become a simple shadow perched upon the arm of her chair.

The conversation was forgettable as dialogue moved in and out of focus. Every so often Hunter would laugh along with one of his mother’s anecdotes before adding his own. If Michael could remember, the whole discussion had started with a mail-in they had received in the post. But as it was, he could not fully remember. Still, it was a pleasant scene as a sense of genuine warmth permeated the small interactions between mother and son.

Drawn into the atmosphere, it took Michael a second to realize that Brody’s presence wavered. Michael pulled himself together and prepared to resume control of Hunter when he felt something brush against him.

No, brush did not feel like the right word. He was not physical, yet the sensation was there. A light touch across his being.

Suddenly his mouth flooded with the taste of copper as the acrid scent of blood burned in his nostrils. Rushing blood and a pounding heartbeat filled his throbbing head before Michael had a chance to catch himself. A sense of panic and alien excitement made him tremble. Something had gone wrong. What, he wasn’t sure, but he could feel the memories he had cultivated threaten to collapse.

In a panic, Michael forcefully rejoined with Hunter to provide the support for the fledgling soul and stabilize whatever situation had just taken him. An uncomfortably thin sweat covered his skin as harsh waves of nausea turned into a thudding discomfort that rooted itself in his frontal lobe.

Unconsciously, he retracted his hands before he rubbed his temples. A sadly futile attempt to correct the problem. When the smell retracted and his heartbeat slowed, Michael opened his eyes.

The first thing he checked was the clock. Only a few minutes had passed, and everyone was still eyeing the two men intensely. Brody was the first to break the silence as he gave a small laugh.

“We have done you a disservice, Mr. Clarke.” With a nod, the tension of the room broke.

Michael could only glower. “So that’s all you needed? You saw enough of my memories?”

It took Brody a second to answer. He rubbed his pale palms together before giving an affirmative nod. “In my professional opinion, you are indeed Hunter Clarke.”

“Shocking, I know.” Michael gave a sharp smile then returned to his seat next to Ellen. “With this waste of time done, let me reintroduce myself. Hi, I’m Hunter Clarke. Twenty-Six, Male, and Human. Now can we put our collective intelligence together and try to actually solve this murder spree?”

There was silence once more. This time Giselle took the initiative and leaned over towards Michael. “I’d like to say I always believed you were you.”

Ellen couldn’t help to laugh before she pushed Giselle back to her seat. “Let’s look at everything again. Maybe there is something we all missed.”

The frustration did not leave, and the mistrust was palpable in every minor disagreement or alternative opinion. But the gathered people still worked the best they could on the two cooling cases. Richard spoke up from time to time. While no expert, he had gained some knowledge of the general cases because of its ties to the Kitt Clan Massacre. The Witches’ Council had at least confirmed that the murders shared the same method and magic. Unfortunately, any attempt to recall the dead was impossible as the souls were just gone. It also didn’t help that any potential documentation in Banyan’s Hallow had disappeared before the field units arrived to investigate.

Finally, the room came to one agreed conclusion. Whoever was behind this was an organized group. There was no way only one or two people could kill this many and easily clean up their evidence afterward. Especially when one of the victim groups had been a clan of wereleopards. But knowing that didn’t give them much. Motive, size, membership, they had none of it. Their best active lead was the fact the group still wanted to capture Neil. Though team tentatively added Giselle to the list after the realm incident.

Michael kept quiet, adamant in his opinion that he should not get involved. This was way beyond Hunter’s scope, though it did not stop Michael’s mind from roaming. He had a few theories, most were silly or did not fit the world structure as he knew it. But as another idea came crashing down because of Ellen’s stubbornness in the face of Richard and Oscar’s inflexibility, he finally threw one of his own out. After all, he was only there for the hour.

“Have you checked with any of the local Fair Folk?” Keeping within Hunter’s specialty, Michael had remembered the oddly aggressive fae cases he had taken on before the realm. From what he had read in the Archive, the fae were deeply tied to the magic of an area even more so than the witches.

At his suggestion, the conversation lulled. Not out of respect, but more shock that he had spoken up.

“No. Why would we do that?” Oscar frowned.

For once, Ellen slightly agreed with her rival. “The Fair Folk aren’t the type to cooperate with an investigation.”

Michael slightly nodded before sneaking a peek at the clock. He had fifteen minutes left. With a sigh, he continued. “I don’t know all the contact ya’ll have. Nor do any of you hunt fae normally, but the last few hunts I’ve taken that involved fae have been worse than I’ve ever handled. I even had a Boggart kill a dog.” Giselle scowled, but everyone else seemed confused. “It’s not normal for Boggarts to kill living things. On top of that, I had a group of Pixies nearly destroy an animal sanctuary and even had a Ballybog in someone’s pool. I’m sure Giselle can back me up.”

At the mention, Giselle slowly nodded. “Yea, I had a gnome call. Found that almost the entire nest had been killed by one of their own. Then I had a standard pixie relocation call only to nearly have the little thing rip my finger off.” The more she thought about it, the odder she found her recent hunts. She clicked her tongue. “But it stopped though. Right about a week ago. It’s one of the reasons I was on vacation.”

“After the realm?” Michael asked.

“About then. Everything calmed down, at least from what I saw.” She shrugged.

“Here’s a new lead then. Free to you. Why not check with one of the locals Fae Lords? I’m sure they’ll be able to tell you if there are any discrepancies with the magic of the region. Might be the solution you need.” With his suggestion done, Michael leaned back in his chair.

“Fay Lords…” Ellen hummed for a second, her face pulled into a stiff frown as she concentrated. “Based off the regions, central Florida is Cassadaga still. St. Augustine is held by Ponce. Hemming was the Keys. Gator hasn’t left the Everglades in over 40 years. I’m pretty sure Selkie and Key have finally settled the West Coast dispute. I don’t think anyone is in the panhandle at the moment and Skunkape-“

“He’s still going by Skunk ape?” Giselle cut in with a grimace. “He’s a fucking fae, not a sasquatch. He’s such an attention whore.”

“Giselle please.” Ellen glared at her fellow hunter before continuing. “Skunkape is over Southeastern Florida. There are a few more, but I’d have to research it.”

“How many Fae Lords does Florida have?” Hunter had never met any of these local rulers, so Michael had thought little about them. As for the fae lords he had met in his own past, they would not touch this nowhere little fragment of a world.

Ellen thought for a second. “Ten last I checked.”

“Is that normal?”

“No. Normally states have two to three except for places like Texas where there is more territory. They might have five.” Ellen already knew the next question as she continued. “Florida isn’t just a retirement destination for mortals.”

“I’ll call the Council and see if there has been any contact or complaints filed recently.” With a new potential lead, Oscar cheered up a bit. “Since the two sites were in the Central Florida region, I’ll have them prioritize those reports first.”

The conversation quickly picked up. Dedicated to their craft, Ellen and Oscar momentarily put aside their difference to devour the fresh lead. Even Giselle found a place to contribute as a veteran fae hunter. For Michael, however, he just watched the clock. The moment it hit the hour mark, he stood up. Before they could stop him, he said a quick goodbye and headed out.

Though, while he had left the conference room, he did not head directly to the parking lot. Instead, he continued deeper into the building until he found the infirmary. He had only said he would not attend the meeting for over an hour, but while he had been sitting bored in the conference room, he realized that getting a quick look over by Doc would do him some good. That way he wouldn’t have to come back to HQ for a while.

 

The infirmary was quiet except for the light tap of keys and soft snoring that came from a curtained-off bed. Alone at her desk, Doc lazily typed up another minor report about an injured hunter. The man had only lost a hand. It will regrow in a day. Yet still he had moaned through the entire treatment and put her into an agitated mood.

As Michael entered, he felt her sharp green gaze cut into him. In the few seconds it took him to reach her desk, she had already taken full stock of him.

“Quite lively.” She smiled, but a cool clinical air cut any friendliness.

Not taking it to heart, Michael nodded. “Expected me to be dead?”

“No, just back sooner than I expected.” Today she had pushed back her hair with a white headband, making her face even sharper. It was these unnatural features that made her look like a specter of the infirmary. She looked him over one more time before raising a nearly invisible eyebrow. “What can I do for you?”

“Thought I would get a quick check-up since I was tricked into coming here.”

 Doc didn’t question farther. It was more interesting than filling a report anyway. Neither had much to say as she went about her job. Occasionally she asked a question to which Michael would mutter out a response. Her physical examination ended, and she watched the x-ray that slowly developed on her monitor. Once the image finished, she looked them over. With one glance, her normally trained expression broke as her eyes widen slightly. Quickly she schooled it back into a neutral intensity.

All said and done, Michael sat across from her and waited for the verdict.

Leaning back in her chair, Doc clicked at her computer. With her legs crossed, one foot dangled and tapped impatiently in the air. “You are a lot farther along than I thought.”

“Excuse me?” A slight flash of misplaced panic flared up in him.

“The break is nearly mended.” She continued. “Are you cheating on me?”

Michael paused for a second as he tried to recall how fast human bodies could heal broken bones. “No. I’ve just been at home resting.”

“Then you’ve gotten lucky. A higher pain tolerance and faster recovery.” The laugh she gave was crisp. “Look, I still have your charts from the last time you broke your rib.” She pulled up an old set of x-rays from her files. “It took 8 weeks for you to fully heal.”

“Huh.” Since Michael couldn’t give her a reason, he continued to play dumb. “No clue what I did different this time.”

On whether Doc bought it… He had his doubts. From the rapid tapping of her foot, his doubts intensified. But her face unexpectedly shifted from cool disbelief to sudden realization. A thin-lipped snake like smile pulled at her mouth. “Hunter, there is something I would like to try.”

“And what would that be?” His question was cautious. Anything that got the Doc that excited rarely meant well for the patient.

“No need to look so worried. The other day I had a conversation with a Nullifier out of Georgia. It had to do with a curse case, but that doesn’t matter.” She waved her hand. “Anyway, they reminded me of something I had forgotten about anti-magic. I never figured out the source of your unique constitution.” She leaned forward. “If it’s blood-based, I might have a workaround.”

“How exactly would you figure this out?” Michael paused, then changed the question. “How long will it take?”

 “Only a few hours.”

“Can’t do.” Michael shook his head.

“Why not? Don’t you want to see if there’s a chance that healing magic could work on you?” Doc frowned.

“Another day maybe. But I need to head back home soon. It can wait.”

In Doc’s ever-curious mind, the answer could not be delayed. “Then I would at least like to take some blood and a few tissue samples.” A darkness began to form in her gaze before it was pushed back by her razor smile. “It is a worthy donation, this is all in an effort to improve your future medical treatment.”

“Not today Doc.” Michael went to stand up, but a cold stiff hand pushed him down.

“Let me rephrase that. Would you like to continue to receive free comprehensive health care from me?” She leaned forward, her eyes level with his own as they burrowed into him.

The physical intimidation meant little to Michael, but the threat had some baring. A sigh escaped from his lips. “Ten minutes.”

“Perfect.” Quickly the Doc got to work. Her efficiency was frightening as she made use of every second. Almost gleefully, she collected her samples and occasionally praised Hunter’s ability to stay still through all her prodding. Finally, as she got her last sample, the clock hit the ten-minute mark.

For a moment, Michael thought about the legality of her threats and methods. But found it to be a useless mental exercise. After all, there was a reason the Council had happily left her out here.

Free to go, Michael threw Doc a wave she didn’t return. Now she had a new toy to play with, the rest of the world meant little. Lightheaded but determined, he left the infirmary to the sound of cackling laughter and almost immediately stumbled into someone.

Luckily, he caught himself and looked up to find Brody across from him.

 “Ah, excuse me.” The other man smiled and took a step to the side.

Michael grunted, “No worries,” and went to continue down the hall when Brody reached out his hand.

A bit sensitive, Michael dodged the touch as he turned to look at the psychic. “Do you want something?”

“Sorry, that was rude of me.” Brody caught himself and pulled his hand back. “I just had to ask. Your mother is Penelope Clarke?”

Frowning, Michael rested his hands in his pockets. “Yes.”

“I never knew she had a son.” Brody’s blue eyes sparkled as a handsome smile graced his lips. “I feel so dense, I should have been able to tell. You two share a last name and you look so much like her.”

“How do you know my mom?” This encounter had skipped the most important question for Michael.

“Oh, we’ve worked together on assignments for the Council. My Grace always loves to play with Goldie. He’s such a sweetie.”

“The Witches’ Council?” The gears in Michael’s head whirled as his expression darkened. “What exactly does my mom do for them?”

Ignorant of Michael’s struggle, Brody answered. “The last time I worked with her, she had made a prediction about the location of a lost coven of witches. It was quite spectacular. Truly proved why she is considered one of the best oracles in Florida. Though I’d argue that she is the best in the southeast.”

“Oh.” There were a lot of questions he had, but Brody could not properly answer them. Michael lowered his head for a second as his headache returned. This world was getting off the rails.

Brody seemed to sense the mood change as his appreciative smile lowered a bit. Reaching out a hand, he rested it on Michael’s shoulder, “Are you feeling all right?”

To tell the truth, no, Michael did not feel all right. He would kill for comprehensive information about this rapidly changing world. But he just rubbed his forehead and organized his thoughts. “It’s been a day.”

A hint of agitation stewed in his chest. Whether this was his own or Hunter acting up, Michael did not know for sure. But the fact Mama Clarke had never told her own son about her additional job was a growing sore point.

Then again, could Michael blame her?

When he first entered, she hadn’t been an oracle. But still, ah, it could become so difficult to keep things straight when the world develops with you.

Damn, he needed to go talk to the woman himself.

“Why don’t you go rest in the infirmary?” Concern was apparent on Brody’s face, but Michael shook his head.

“I’m fine. I need to head home, my boyfriend’s waiting for me.” Politely brushing off the hand, Michael headed for his car.

He cut a good half an hour off his trip as he pulled up to the gravel driveway.

A thunderstorm had started as bolts of lightning lit up the sky. Earth shaking rolls of thunder followed close after. Rain pinged off the rooftop onto his unprotected head, farther fueling his unrest. A growing resentment at being deceived flickered in his heart as he tried to think of the reason Hunter’s mom had never told him about this.

As he opened the front door, he yelled into the house. “Mom, we need to talk!” Any other words died in his throat as he looked at the scene before him.

Alexander sat casually in a chair as Shelly stood before him with a shotgun. Flustered, it took her a moment to register his return as her expression slowly shifted into one of embarrassment. Imani sat on the couch behind her with Peter leaned against her as they watched on tensely.

Before he could stop him, Michael blurted out. “What the fuck is going on?”

A/N

Testing out an editing software to help with my grammar mistakes and word flow. I almost completely forgot about them since I haven't used one since college. Ended up spending like 5 hours messing around and checking out all the features and rewriting things because I was having too much fun. >.< I want to go and reedit all my past chapters, but first I need to wrap this arc and move to the next since it's getting to be autumn. A perfect time for a Gothic vampire story.

On the writing side, the story actually has changed a lot from my first draft, initial chapter outline and even the first chapter. I can't say much since it's tied to the ending, but things like Easter used to just be a backwater town but as I worked through the chapters and developed characters they would take on lives of their own. Luckily it's reach a point where everything is pretty solid and it's just minute things changing to better fit with the plot progression and character depictions. Still there's a graveyard of written chapters that were cut due to the change in direction (including a 3 am challenge, lol). It's just the nature of writing and updating a story chapter by chapter. I'm kind of happy I built myself some leeway in the setting by allowing the world to develop with them, though there are a number of plot elements that have not changed from the initial plotting.

Also thank you to Loni4ever for the wonderful review and feedback! I truly appreciate it! ?