Aunt Maggie

         Panting heavily, leg muscles straining with every step, it took him nearly an hour to climb the hill, his heavy burden slowing him more than he would have liked.

         At least, he thought, it's cool today. And it was, especially for the middle of summer. It was a nice day: there were birds chirping and a nice breeze was blowing. Today would be a perfect day for a young boy to be out playing with his friends. Unfortunately, this young boy wasn't. This young boy was an hour from home, carrying a heavy bag to his aunt's cottage.

         It was well worth it, though. He loved going to Aunt Maggie's cottage. He loved being at Aunt Maggie's cottage. It was much nicer than his own home. Aunt Maggie had stone floors and real locks on her door. She even had real glass in her windows. She always had the best sweets, too, and insisted that he stay as long as he liked.

         Garret was overjoyed earlier that morning when his mother tasked him with taking his aunt's bulging medicine bag to her. As always, Mother warned him to not look in the bag. For the past two years, the warnings hadn't been necessary. For the past two years, he'd had no interest in looking inside the bag. Because two years ago, he'd looked inside.

         Aunt Maggie had known, when he did. She hadn't said anything, but she had known. The disappointment on her face had shamed him terribly.

         Stepping carefully, mindful of the flowers, he put that out of his mind as he reached the door. Before he even raised his hand to knock, the door swung inward.

         "Oh, Garret! I was just thinking of you, dear! Come in, come in! I've made you some cookies, so you sit down and I'll get you a plate."

         He grinned, knowing sweets were soon to come. He loved his aunt, but sometimes he worried about her. Up here, all alone, she hardly ever received visitors. All that isolation couldn't be good for her. And there was the matter of her bag...

         She sat him at the table and chattered as she began piling cookies and candies on his plate. He smiled at her and responded at the appropriate times, but his mind wasn't really on the conversation.

         He studied her carefully. She was short, standing just above five feet. She kept her long grey hair in a tight bun held in place by pins, and her shoulders wrapped in a shawl she had made by hand. Her hands were calloused from long years of housework. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes bright, and she had all of her teeth.

         He sipped his tea and thought that she wasn't really the kind of person you would expect to buy a bag of human heads twice a year.

=-=-=-=-=

         “Aunt Maggie,” Chelsea said, “you always make the best tea.”

         She smiled and said, “Oh, dear, there’s nothing to it.” She paused a moment, hand resting on the back of the fine wooden dining chair. “Now I know you didn’t come all the way up here to compliment my tea. What’s on your mind, love?”

         Chelsea smiled. She really did love spending time with Aunt Maggie. The woman wasn't really her aunt, of course. Everyone in the village called her that. Chelsea didn't think she was related to any of them, either. Aunt Maggie had a way of dealing with things, though. That's why Chelsea had traveled nearly an hour from the village to see her.

         "You're right, Aunt Maggie. I hate to bother you, but I don't know who else can help."

         Maggie smiled sweetly and put her small wrinkled hands atop of Chelsea's smooth young ones.

         "It's no bother, sweetling. Now: what is it?"

         Chelsea sighed and licked her lips.

         "There's been someone bothering my daughter. I don't know who it is, but it's no one from the village. They must stay out all night, because she's tired all the time. She doesn't... she doesn't look good, either."

         Fighting back tears, Chelsea said, "I think it's a boy from that town over the hill. She's always asking me how you know you're in love, and if her father has a dowry. Normally, I'd be happy for her, but this... I don't know. If he intended to marry her, wouldn't he come around during the day?"

         Maggie nodded in sympathy and said "And you want me to talk to her?"

         Chelsea gave a grateful smile.

         "Would you, please?"

         Chelsea stayed for nearly two hours before deciding to head back to the village.

         As Maggie was seeing her to the door, Chelsea remembered one more thing.

         "Oh, Aunt Maggie. I've remembered one more thing. Could you just... Could you just make sure she's okay? I think he's been choking her; she's got bruises all around her neck."

         And Maggie dropped the teapot.

         Chelsea gasped and asked "Oh dear! Are you all right, Aunt Maggie? What happened?"

         Maggie stared at her closely.

         "Don't you worry about it, love. I've decided to walk back to the village with you."

         

=-=-=-=-=

         The room, if a room it is, is pitch-black. The silence is broken by a single voice, which could belong either to a young boy or a woman.

         "No, Master."

         There is silence for a moment.

         "It does not have a name, Master."

         "Yes, Master. A small one. There appear to be no suitable locations."

         Now the voice stops speaking only briefly.

         "Perhaps a cellar, Master?"

         There is a crash, and the sound of bones breaking.

         After almost a minute of complete silence, the voice speaks again.

         "No, Master. Of course not. I will find more suitable premises at once."

         And once more the blackness of the room is thick with a heavy silence.

=-=-=-=-=

         "Melissa, have you seen Aunt Maggie?"

         Melissa yawned and said "She let her cat outside. If you don't mind, I think I'll go to bed."

         Chelsea stared at her for a moment before asking, "When was that?"

         Melissa paused and appeared to think.

         "Um. About twenty minutes ago, probably. Why?"

         Chelsea smiled and kissed her daughter on the cheek.

         "No reason, dear. You just go on up to bed."

         Melissa frowned at her mother, but yawned again and continued on to bed.

         Chelsea went back to tidying the house, relieved now that Maggie would be handling it. She was probably outside right now, waiting for Melissa to sneak out.

         Chelsea soon completed her housework and was about to go up to bed when there came a scratching at the door. She called out and asked "Who's there?"

         There was no answer.

         Chelsea, only very slightly worried, padded silently to the door. Opening it slowly, she looked outside and stared in surprise.

         There was no one there.

         Chelsea slammed the door and put her back to it. Briefly, she thought that she should go out and check on Aunt Maggie, but decided against it.

         "She's a big girl," Chelsea whispered. "She can take care of herself."

=-=-=-=-=

         The room is still dark.

         A voice breaks through the silence. It is similar to, but not the same as, the first.

         "No, Master. We can't find him."

         There is a whispered suggestion of movement before the voice speaks again.

         "Yes, Master. We've found a suitable place. We'll have to speak with the owners, but they won't be a problem."

         There is, this time, a long stretch of complete silence.

         Then, "Yourself, Master?"

         The break in conversation is barely long enough to call it such.

         "Yes, Master. Tonight, Master."

         There is barely a pause this time.

         "Melissa, Master. The old woman's name is Maggie."

=-=-=-=-=

         "Maggie?" Chelsea slid open the door to the guest room. It was unoccupied.

         "Dale?" She turned to her husband. "Have you seen Aunt Maggie?"

         He shook his head and replied, "Not since last night. Why don't you ask Melissa?"

         Chelsea nodded and pursed her lips.

         "Ask me what?"

         Chelsea started, and turned to find her daughter standing behind them.

         "Melissa, have you seen Aunt Maggie this morning?"

         A strange look came over Melissa's face and her voice came out hollow and toneless.

         "You've nothing to worry about. She went home, and I am happy now."

         Chelsea and her husband exchanged bewildered looks.

=-=-=-=-=

         "She's the one who's pregnant, not me."

         His mother just rolled her eyes and flapped her dishtowel at him.

         After she left the room, Austin continued to bemoan his fate. Why did he have to go all the way up to Aunt Maggie's cottage? Just because his sister was pregnant and needed a midwife, he had to drop what he was doing and run errands for her?

         And it wasn't as though he had nothing better to do. Jason had finally started talking to him in public, and today they were all going to play godra'Jala in the square. It wasn't often that Austin got to play with the most popular boys in the village. And being small for his age, he rarely got to play godra'Jala at all.

         It was no use arguing with his mother, either. She wouldn't understand why he'd rather play with his friends than do chores for his stupid sister. He supposed, though, that it wasn't all that bad. At least Aunt Maggie would let him eat cookies.

=-=-=-=-=

         Watching his children sleep grew old quickly.

         But it gave him time to think.

         Think, for example, about this Maggie person.

         She had stolen one of his, and that just wouldn't do. He knew it probably wasn't wise to pay her a visit, but that was precisely what he intended to do.

         He would have liked to know more about her, but it seemed that she had these villagers fooled. None of them knew what she really was, which meant that he didn't know what she was.

         He had his suspicions, of course. But if they were true, what was she doing here, of all places?

         The door opened, letting in the morning sun. Instinctively, he flinched back.

         That wouldn't do at all.

         Stretching out his hand, he called forth his power.

=-=-=-=-=

         "Rebecca, have you seen Austin?"

         Rebecca turned away from the mirror and answered her mother.

         "Um. Didn't he go to Aunt Maggie's?"

         Elizabeth pursed her lips, annoyance
evident on her face.

         "He should have been back hours ago. He's probably off playing ball with those friends of his."

         With that, she went back to the kitchen, mumbling about irresponsible children.

         Ignoring her mother, Rebecca faced the mirror again, inspecting her reflection for signs of her pregnancy showing.

=-=-=-=-=

         It was glorious when Master spoke inside his mind.

         It filled him with a brilliant light that paled the sun.

         He was unworthy of such honor, and undeserving of Master's attention.

         Tell me of her, boy.

         A shining radiance flooded through his being.

         Tell me of Aunt Maggie.

         Honey-colored warmth licked at his essence.

         Tell me of Maggie, that I may kill her.

         Austin bowed his head and complied.

=-=-=-=-=

         The room, if a room it is, is pitch-black. The silence is broken by a single voice, which could belong either to a young boy or a woman.

         "No, Mistress."

         There is silence for a moment.

         "His name is Kestrel, Mistress."

         There is a long moment where not a single sound can be heard.

         "I do not know, Mistress. At times, he appears to fear the sunlight, but I have known him to walk outdoors in its full light."

         Now the voice only stops speaking briefly.

         "Without even trying, Mistress."

         There is a crash, and the sound of bones breaking.

         After almost a minute of complete silence, the voice speaks again.

         "No, Mistress. Of course not. I am sure that, when he comes, you will either destroy him or force him to concede to your superiority."

         The voice says nothing for a long while.

         "Yes, Mistress. I believe he will. He may even be here now."

         And a palpable silence descends once more.

=-=-=-=-=

         "Rose! Get out here!" Jason called to his wife from their front porch. Rose joined him in a moment, but before she could speak he whispered to her, "Look. Over there." He pointed to the pavilion in the village square."

         The square was only a hundred paces or so from their house, so it should have been easy to see. With the sudden storm, however, it was surprisingly dark for so early in the day.

         The figure at which her husband had been pointing blended with the shadows so well Rose almost didn't see it.

         It was a boy. Not any boy from the village, and not any normal boy. In fact, this boy was so strange-looking, Rose had to rub her eyes and step closer to make sure she wasn't seeing things.

         She wasn't.

         She looked at her husband for confirmation. He just nodded and continued to watch the boy.

         Rose did the same.

         He was just standing there. And wearing... whatever that was. Why would anyone dress like that?

         It was leather armor, like the soldiers wear, but black, and all over his body. He had some strange kind of blades coming out of his arms. They looked like bird wings with all the feathers off.

         And those tattoos! On his face and neck; wouldn't that hurt?

         No one's hair was that color, either. It looked like ash, down to his chin and cut the same length all around.

         "What is he doing here? Why's he just standing there?

         Her husband shrugged.

         She peered closer. "Are his eyes glowing, or- Oh, quick! He's looking."

         She turned her back to the boy, facing the house. Her husband, however, continued to stare.

         Rose smacked him on the arm and hissed, "Quit looking at him!"

         Jason started to say something, but closed his mouth and frowned.

         Looking up at him, Rose asked "What is it?"

         He appeared to ignore her, but spoke from the corner of his mouth.

         "He's coming over."

=-=-=-=-=

         "What are you doing?" The ice in her voice was nearly palpable.

         He started, guilt transforming his features.

         Her feet didn't even touch the floor; she was striding gracefully as though her feet were planted on solid ground rather than two feet above it.

         He began backing away from her. He hated it when she got angry. Fire burning in her eyes, she spat, "You were looking for him again, weren't you."

         It wasn't a question: she never asked questions.

         He whimpered in fear.

         It would have been a rather unusual sight, had there been any onlookers.

         A thirteen year-old boy crouched naked on the floor, cowering in terror from this sweet old woman.

         His voice was hoarse when he replied, "I'm so sorry, Aunt Maggie."

=-=-=-=-=

         Kestrel gathered his children in the village square. At this point, he wasn't concerned with exposure. This place wouldn't survive the night.

         He didn't bother speaking aloud. Instead, he projected his thoughts directly into the minds of those before him.

         Stay away from the old woman and the boy. If anyone from the village interferes with you, incapacitate them. I won't be upset if you kill them. Pausing only momentarily, he continued. We'll show this dried-up old hag what real power is.

         His long-dead heart swelling with pride, he surveyed the assembled group of vampires.

         They're all so pretty, he thought.

         There were only ten of them, but they made for a devastating force in combat, especially when their adversaries weren't expecting them to attack.

         And they rarely were. Who would be? His children didn't look like vampires, not with his powerful magic at work. To any observer, his boys would look like... Well, children. Not one of them was a day over fourteen.

=-=-=-=-=

         Maggie fussed with her hair, searching her reflection carefully for flyaways. Satisfied with what she saw, she selected her favorite shawl and wrapped it about her shoulders.

         Turning away from the mirror, she glanced around the room. It would be unseemly to leave the place anything less than tidy. As always, though, everything was in its place. Smiling in satisfaction, she went outside. Of course, she paused to lock the door. You couldn't be too careful these days.

         Tsking at the lack of illumination, she decided against making her way to the village immediately. Instead, she unlocked the door and went back inside. She bustled over to her jewelry box and picked out a nice little locket. Replacing her brooch, she settled the locket around her neck.

         Within moments, the necklace began to exude a silvery glow, which then spread over her body. Once more checking her reflection, she liked what she saw: her form was shedding a beautiful sterling light.

         It would illuminate the path nicely, but the dark didn't bother one such as she. It would make for a grand entrance, and that was with what she was concerned.

         Stepping outside, she called for her throne-bearers.

         She would show this upstart young vampire what real power was.

=-=-=-=-=

         This isn't going nearly as well as I'd thought it would, thought Kestrel as he neatly removed the head of a mouldering corpse that had just taken a swipe at him.

         She had more of them than he could have possibly imagined. The numbers had evened considerably by now, though, with her zombies outnumbering his vampires two-to-one. Shortly, she would have none to his ten.

=-=-=-=-=

         This isn't going nearly as well as I'd thought it would, thought Maggie as she sent forth a burst of carefully shaped negative energy, which healed her zombies but bypassed Kestrel and his vampires.

         They were more powerful than she could have possibly imagined. She was losing zombies far too quickly. Shortly, she would have none remaining.

=-=-=-=-=

         She had none remaining. Kestrel stood facing her with his children at his back. With them so close, she couldn't touch him with her power. She was, however, strong enough to keep him from coming any closer. The only option she had now would be to attack him with his former vampire slave; the one that had been feeding upon Melissa.

         If he left her aura of negative energy, though, Kestrel would be able to wrest control of him away from Aunt Maggie.

         "If you're not going to say it," she called out, "I will. There's no reason for us to be fighting, boy."

         He waited a moment before replying.

         "If that's true, then give me back my slave."

         She stared at him for a long while, but then gave a gracious nod. The boy behind her jumped forward and raced toward Kestrel. Kestrel held out a hand and the naked boy hit an invisible barrier. He now appeared to be running underwater. Slowly, he began to rise into the air.

         An expression of indescribable joy stole over his features, and tears began running down his face. Kestrel lowered him to the ground, where the boy promptly fell to his knees, weeping in ecstasy.

         Kestrel ignored him entirely and spoke directly to Maggie once more.

         "Your secret is out, lich. These townspeople will suffer your presence no more."

         Maggie shrugged, and seemed to indicate she didn't care a whit about the townspeople.

         Kestrel said, "Where will you go, now that your undead are destroyed?"

         Maggie spread her arms wide and said "I can get more undead."

         Kestrel nodded and seemed to consider something.

         "Perhaps an arrangement could be made."

         Maggie raised her brows, but said nothing.

         Kestrel gestured to the collection of buildings that surrounded them both. "What, then, would you have done with this village? You can't mean to let it stand."

         Maggie stepped forward slowly until she was only a few feet from Kestrel, her power breathing along Kestrel's skin. Her voice was warm, carrying with it the promise of glory and friendship.

         "Do with the village what you will."

         A broad grin on his face, Kestrel said, "We are to be allies, then?"

         Maggie nodded gracefully.

         Death would this night visit this small village.

         The vampire lord held out his hand to the lich and said, "This could be the start of something great, My Lady."

         Smiling, she accepted his hand.

         "Call me Aunt Maggie, dear. Everyone does."

=-=-=-=-= End. =-=-=-=-=