Author's note: This is my first story, so I hope it's not too badly-written. Please excuse my bad english and any grammar/vocabulary mistakes I make, I will try to improve my writing as time goes by. Also, William Paige is basically Donald Sutherland in the movie An American Haunting. And, I own nothing apart from the story, characters/names belong to their respectful owners.
Chapter I
Midnight.
The forest under Pendle Mountain remained silent.
The occasional sounds of the owls, the whispering of the trees' leaves that share their own secrets through the soft wind and the constant rattle of the leafhoppers marked that night as a totally ordinary one to William Paige's mind. Though that was the opinion of a man who had never before hunted in that forest. But he wasn't a simple man either.
William Paige was a hunter, of some sorts, the best of his kind.
He was an Englishman, but had travelled to almost all of the known then world, due to his job. Because, you see, Lancashire had never had any "incidents" so far. Most of them happened in the Balkan Region, especially in Romania, but that was before his comrade, Van Helsing, killed Count Dracula. After his death, things seemed to start getting back to normal. Up until that very night.
William was sent to patrol the forest under Pendle Mountain under the orders of the Brethren of Witch-Hunters of England. There was a vote about it and William had gained the majority. There will be a time, however, when he will wish he never succeeded that day.
The day that declared his doom.
Back to that night, now. William is patrolling the many different paths of the silently beautiful forest. One of the many reasons he chose this job was that he had always felt strangely close to the magical creatures and, secretly, he couldn't deny that he admired most of them. It was as if, part of the darkness through the years had latched inside him, and he couldn't let go. Perhaps he didn't want to, for that matter.
He's reached the lake. The water is still, as if it is the surface of a mirror that the Moon uses to satisfy its narcissistic needs. That calmness and the stillness of the air here unsettles him. Suddenly everything has become so quiet, he can even hear his own breath in the silence of the night. At that moment, he sees her.
On the other side of the lake, a woman stands still, facing him.
The moonlight illuminates her form, and her red hair that falls down her waist. He feels as if he's in a dreaming state. In fact, he blinked, to be sure all this is real. And it is, she is still there. They face each other, none of them speaking. The very next moment, when he is ready to talk to her, a flash covers everything.
When his eyes recover from the temporary blindness, no one is facing him. No one is standing on the other side of that lake. Nothing is still and quiet anymore. "Witch, no doubt" William thinks to himself. He was a person who, unlike many people at that period, trusted his eyes and his senses more than anything.
He continues the patrol, positive that she can't have gone too far. He walks around the lake, and delves deeper into the forest, the darkness of the trees surrounding him, until he reaches an empty spot, an area where trees don't grow. He feels the ground, his keen sense telling him that this is the right place. She will be here. Right in front of him, there is a cave, that looks more like a sanctum.
He's determined to go inside, when the bells of the village start tolling in a certain way, signaling an attack by werewolves. The darkness of the sanctum is luring him, it's attracting him. He has to find her, that dark maiden of the night. But the people are in danger, and if there is someone who can save them, it's him. The moment he turns to leave, a sharp female voice is whispering in his head. "Wrong choice, William. What kind of person hunts and kills their own kind?".
He is petrified.
It's her. It must be her.
All of a sudden, he turns around and heads for the cave. What if she is the one behind the attack? What if she sent the werewolves? What if she is playing with his mind? There are more hunters in the village, surely they can deal with the werewolves. At least, until he finds the witch. That's the label he has chosen for her, until he knows for certain.
He walks in the cave with unflinching determination, his senses guiding him through the dark. As he explores the cave he can't help but notice that there's a distinctive scent that becomes more and more powerful as he heads forward, deeper into the darkness.
Blood.
Markings on the wall written recently with blood; ancient runes.
At one point, he reaches a dead end. But that can't be right, for there was only one path he could follow once he entered the cave. He lights a torch to investigate the place better. That's when he sees them.
The dead bodies.
Some recently deceased, others so old even skeletons start dissolving.
He feels his breath getting ragged, and drops of sweat running down his forehead. He's not a person who gets easily scared. He doesn't even know if terror is what has overwhelmed him now. There's a sudden breeze and the fire on his torch is immediately blown out, though there are some openings which let the moonlight do its work in the cave. At that point he decides to leave, head for the village. He will come again, when the sun can shed some light in this place.
He has almost reached the entrance of the cave. The bells are still tolling and he wonders if he'll manage to arrive at the village in time. He fills his gun with silver bullets and readies all of his weapons and he is about to leave.
"Hello, William."
End of Chapter