As Colin was leaving Brogan’s place, he suddenly remembered a very important detail that had been left out of their conversation. “Brogan, how do I find the Avartagh?”
“Oh, did I forget to mention that? He’ll be easy to find, to be sure. He’s pretending to be the mayor.”
“You mean he’s been posing as the mayor this whole time?”
“Since he arrived in this town. I suppose I should warn you about what you’re up against, although admittedly your forebears might have dashed off to battle without asking the same.”
“My fore-what?”
“Never mind. The Avartagh’s powers include illusion and deception, although not on the level of a master druid. Even so, he can call upon numerous of the unseelie host to assist him, so expect fierce opposition in his allies. Also he’s incredibly strong, fairly quick, and he’ll play dirty, that’s for certain.”
“Great. What’s an unseelie?”
Brogan sighed. “There’s so much you don’t know, and I wish I had more time to prepare you, but I believe time is short. Suffice it to say that the unseelie are the bad guys, although the lines tend to blur where Irish fae are concerned. In this case, you’ll know them when you see them.”
Colin nodded, started to say thanks again, but then caught himself at the last moment and instead held out his hand. “You’ve been a great help.”
Brogan winked as he shook his hand. “You’re a fast learner, me boy. I hazard to say that you’ll prove to be of worth to me yet.”
Colin climbed out of Brogan’s manhole with a mission in mind. Brogan had told him that the best place to locate the Avartagh would be at the mayor’s office, which seemed common-sense enough to him. But first, he needed to get help—starting with Jesse. If he was lucky, they’d still be at the ball field, but he had to hurry.
As he jogged along back streets and alleys, he wondered if he should drop off his lucky bat at home and find a better weapon. He wished he had a sword, or a machine gun, or even a machete, but finally decided it was as good a weapon as he could find on short notice. Fact was that he’d never get rid of it anyway, since it was one of the last gifts he’d received from his father before he’d passed away.
Colin’s dad had given him the bat on his eighth birthday, telling him it was a family heirloom. Despite the fact that it looked like an old, beat up ash bat, he still cherished it and took it with him to every game. Even before the spell had fallen over the town, he’d hit his first home run with it—a miracle in itself, since he’d never had much success in sports.
Once he picked his way out of the downtown area, he stuck to the alleys as he ran through familiar neighborhoods on his way to the ball field. Even from behind the houses he could see how weeks of neglect had taken a toll on the formerly beautiful neighborhoods where he and his friends had grown up. Trash littered the yards and streets, and neglected landscapes gave everything a slightly sinister appearance.
But the scariest things he saw were what others couldn’t see. Several times since he’d left Brogan’s manhole, he’d seen things roaming the streets and sidewalks of his town. Once, he saw a terrible white horse dripping with water and seaweed, and its breath looked like green mist blowing out of its nostrils and mouth. On another street, he saw some little men wearing red Santa Claus hats that dripped with blood. They carried long knives and cleavers, and played cruel tricks on the townsfolk. There were other creatures that, while not as frightening, still spooked him with their bizarre otherworldliness.
Colin simply acted as if he couldn’t see any of them, because he suspected that if they knew he could, he’d be in a heap of trouble. He pulled his hoodie over his head and kept his eyes on the ground in front of him, only stealing glances here and there when he thought the creatures weren’t looking.
He figured the quickest route was to take a shortcut through the park, since it’d save him considerable walking time and cut a good thirty minutes off his trip. As he neared the edge of town, the trees of the park appeared in the distance, but like the rest of the town they’d taken on a decidedly darker appearance since he’d touched Brogan’s stone. The trees now seemed gnarled and twisted, and what he once considered to be a friendly and welcoming forest presently appeared to have sinister intentions. Nothing to do but go through it, he said to himself, remembering that he needed his best friend’s help if he was to get back Brogan’s gold.
As he entered the woods of the park, he noticed the light starting to dim. He looked up to see if the sun had been blocked by clouds, but instead saw tree limbs reaching for each other, almost as if they were trying to block out every last bit of sun. Colin shivered just a bit, then broke into a jog so he could make his time in this place as short as possible.
Coming around a bend in the path, he saw a patch of black and white fur from the corner of his vision. As he turned to look the way he’d come, nothing was visible; yet, he still knew that something had been back there, and possibly following him. He clutched his bat closer with both hands and continued jogging on.
Soon he heard movement in the woods, but the culprit remained concealed. Colin decided to pretend he didn’t notice, but occasionally caught a flash of black fur in the trees several yards off the trail. Whatever it was, it moved with barely a sound, and yet every so often he could hear a rustle in the leaves, or a twig cracking. Finally, he decided that he was being trailed… or hunted.
He hurried along as his heart beat faster and faster, and the shadows grew longer the further he moved into the woods, even though it was barely after lunchtime. As he ran, the trail narrowed and tree limbs seemed to be reaching out to grab him—although he never actually saw them move. Twice he tripped over a tree root that he swore hadn’t been there the moment before, and his face bled from scratches he’d suffered from errant tree limbs. Each time he fell, he picked himself up and ran as fast as he could manage toward the end of the trail.
Then, off in the distance behind him, he heard a terrible sound—like steam escaping a teapot—and the rapid clippity-clopping of a galloping horse. Looking over his shoulder, he spied a pitch black pony with eyes of yellow fire and chains clanking around its neck. It was moving fast, and from what he could tell the thing was bearing down on him as if to run him over. Colin’s nerve left him and he made a break for it, veering off the trail in the hopes that he’d be able to avoid his pursuers by dodging through the trees.
As he turned off the trail, another tree branch tripped him and he fell into a thorn bush by the trailside. Landing in an awkward position, he could barely see the equine nightmare barreling toward him at a breakneck pace. At the last moment, he closed his eyes and covered his face with his bat and arms, in a futile attempt to protect himself from the horse’s charge.
But instead of trampling him, the terrible beast leapt past him into the trees. When the horse landed, Colin heard the hiss of an alley cat preparing to fight, except it was much louder and lower. As he pulled himself out of the bush he saw the dark colt in a clearing, squaring off with the biggest cat he’d ever seen. The cat was pitch black, like the horse, except for a white blaze of fur on its chest.
Colin stood mesmerized, half-hiding behind a tree as his hands sought to crush the handle of his lucky bat. The cat arched its back and hissed once more, its eyes glowing yellow-green in the shadows. In response the colt danced and neighed, and it sounded like thunder and lightning all rolled into one to Colin’s ears. The big feline arched its back again and pounced at the colt. Colin thought the horse was a goner, since the cat was nearly as large as the horse and had sharp claws and teeth.
But instead, the horse spun and lashed out with its rear hooves, and the cat was thrown across the clearing into a thick tree trunk. As the cat struggled back to its feet, the colt turned to Colin, and it spoke in a voice that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.
“Leave it to a fool human to stick around, when he should’ve been running. Hop on my back now, boy, if you want to make it out of these woods alive.”