And I Thought Transylvania was Weird

Disclaimer: Please see chapter 1.

Chapter 4

Morganna made her way towards Central Cemetery, thinking about the night's events. The thoughts paused when she heard a nearby fire escape give a sight rattle. Looking up, Morganna saw a familiar shape leaping across the alley. Reigning in her temper, Morganna followed the Turtle, keeping silent and blending in with the shadows.

Donatello paused the edge of a building, wondering which way Morganna went. There were a lot of cemeteries in the city and he had no idea which one the vampire type thing was going.

Only years of training kept Donatello from jumping when he heard his quarry ask, "So, who are we looking for?"

"Looking for you actually," Donatello replied.

"Why?"

"I wanted to ask a few questions."

"Is that so? Well, if you can keep up, I'll let you ask me anything you want." Morganna seemed to blur out of sight and reappeared a few buildings over before Donatello caught onto Morganna's condition.

"Hey!" Donatello said indignantly as he hurried to catch up.

Donatello barely managed to keep Morganna in sight as he chased her across New York. He found her balanced on the cemetery wall, waiting.

"Your condition sucks, you know that right," Donatello complained, when he came to a stop.

"Only for you," replied Morganna, "You haven't given me a reason to spill my life story." Morganna jumped and started walking through the graves.

Donatello was quick to follow, "Well, how about to appease my curiosity?"

"Curiosity only causes trouble."

"Don't I know it," Donatello mumbled.

Morganna quirked an eyebrow, "Get in trouble a lot, do you?"

"Heh, heh, yeah well, I like to know how much…" Donatello's words trailed off when he saw Morganna seemingly pull a bow and arrow out from thin air.

'One more question to ask,' Donatello thought as he readied his weapon.

Morganna looked over at him and ordered, "Stay out of the way."

Donatello complied but kept his eyes on her as Morganna as she made her way deeper into the graveyard. A few twists and turns placed the hunter in front of a disturbed grave. Morganna focused her senses on the surrounding area. She executed a sharp turn to the right, firing in to a yew tree. A mummified corpse hit the ground with a dull thud.

"One down, one to go," stated Morganna.

As Donatello watched Morganna collect her arrow, he felt the back of his neck tingling; like he was being watched. He pivoted around moving into a ready stance. When the vampire lunged for him, Donatello reacted on adrenalin and instinct. He thrust his bow into the heart of the vampire, staring fascinatingly while it shriveled up like a raisin.

Morganna looked at him with approval, "Not bad for you first kill."

"Hopefully that'll be my only kill."

"With that mentality you better plan on staying home for the rest of your life."

"Why?"

"The mythos about vamps having to be invited before entering a home is true."

"So…would you be able to come in uninvited?"

"I'd never be able to enter your home uninvited, that just plain rude."

Donatello sighed; getting a straight answer out of her would be like pulling teeth.

While the headed home, Michelangelo went over all the books that would be helpful. His train of thought was interrupted by Leonardo, "What do you know about those…beings Karisma mentioned Mikey?"

"I'm not too much of an expert of witches and ghosts. I do know that vampires are killed by fire and wood through the heart and holy water and symbols of faith weaken them. The only things that can harm werewolves are silver and fire." He paused for a second, "Oh! Can't forget about beheading, that'll take care of anything."

"I don't think we'll be fogettin' about beheadin's anytime soon," Raphael replied.

All three tried to suppress the shudder brought up by the memory with little luck. Michelangelo lead his brothers onto his room; finding and dividing books for them to look through. He sat at the computer, bringing up a search engine, looking for information on witches and ghosts.

"Here's a site on witches. It says that there are three orders of witches. There is the bad witch, who uses her magic as a source of chaos. Things like jinxes, curses and voodoo are right up her alley. On a side note, it says that witches do not have to have warts, long noses or green skin to be classified as wicked. So ignore the Wizard of Oz. Onto good witches," Michelangelo said as he clicked the mouse again. "Good witches…Use their magic for good, are usually the ones to make love and good luck potions. Other than that there isn't much more. All that's left are the Wiccans" another click of the button "Believe their powers come from nature, and make their spells and potions from herbs and other organic materials."

"There are people out there that actually believe this stuff?" Raphael asked, leaning over the youngest one's shoulder.

Michelangelo shrugged. "How many people think aliens actually exist? And how often do we hear panicked screams of 'Alien!' when we're seen?"

Leonardo nodded "Good point."

"Yeah, Donny couldn't argue that one either." Michelangelo hit another link, "Hmm…says here that Wiccan rituals are based around the lunar cycle…there's more on something called sabbats, and sky clad rites."

"What's sky clad mean?" Raphael wanted to know.

"I don't know there's no definition. Hey, a video for the sky clad stuff." He clicked the mouse, oblivious to the parental advisory notice.

The guys watched thirteen women cast a circle before casting off their robes. Their eyes widened at the shots the camera was getting. Michelangelo shook off the shock and closed the window.

"Guess we know what sky clad means now," Raphael quipped.

Karisma lay on the ground, shaking as the memories came flooding back. She was Karisma that had been a known fact to her. But now she was Karisma Collasimo, second daughter of Jake and Jan Collasimo, 19 years old and still looking for the right party to come and sweep her up inside it. She was dead.

She could remember everything, from being born in a white-washed hospital room to strolling along Pier 17 that one full moon. She could remember how she died, too. She could remember Ashley, the girl she went to college with, who everybody called a witch. Karisma had been sure that Ashley was just fascinated by the art of witchcraft; witches weren't real, after all. But then she had seen it for herself. She supposed that if there was dark magic, then there must be good magic. But what Ashley practiced was decidedly dark, what Karisma saw was unmistakably dark. So Ashley had gotten rid of the one person who could say that she was an actual witch, and she had left the body in the abandoned Pier 17 warehouse five years ago.

Morganna sighed at Donatello's annoyed expression. "Alright then, I'll answer one question; better make it a good one."

Donatello blurted out the question that was haunting him since he met her, "What are you?"

Morganna smacked her palm against her forehead, "I said make it a good one."

"That was a good one!"

"No it's not. There's too many ways to answer it. I'm a woman, a Wiccan, a daughter, a granddaughter, a wife, a mother, a widow, a Suffragette, a grandmother, an activist, an entrepreneur, a hunter, an artist, and a bunch of other stuff I've probably forgotten," she paused for a breath. "That'll be a freebie. Now try again."