Chapter 7: The Battle Begins

The night sky above was overcast; the waxing moon could barely be seen as it hid behind the black clouds. Colette carefully made her way to the roof's edge and peered down into the deserted street of Lachlan. A few feet below the roof was the rusted iron rod which held the Inn's sign, but she doubted it would hold her weight. Grimshaw's screams seemed quieter, and Colette knew she had no time left. She would have to jump.

She muttered a quick charm as she stood and pushed off from the roof with her feet. The fall took but a second, though her heart seemed to have stopped in her chest. She hit the dirt hard but nothing was broken, and she spun around, wand high, just as the last white light faded in the suite. The night sky was suddenly filled with the loudest, longest, most bloodcurdling bellow of frustration and anger Colette had ever heard in her life.

"Colette," hissed a deep voice from the shadows behind her. She spun around, wand at the ready, but it was not a vampire she saw.

"Ethan, you're alive," she gasped with a mixture of surprise and relief. She made to approach him, but he waved her off with a hand.

"No. Listen to me," he said. He was holding his side with one hand, and Colette thought she saw blood on his fingers. "You must get away from Lachlan now, before they find you again."

"But you're hurt—"

He grimaced. "I will heal. Now go!" he roared quietly.

As he spoke, the clouds thinned and the weak rays of the moon shone through. Ethan doubled over to the ground and groaned in pain.

"Go!" he roared again. He brought his head up so that she saw his transforming face. His nose and jaw were growing longer, his ears were lengthy, and shaggy hair was beginning to appear. His eyes were wide and imploring.

"I will distract them, but without the Wolfsbane Potion…I will hurt you! Now GO!!"

Colette nodded wordlessly, her heart bleeding for the young man she barely knew. Behind her, The Owl's Nest Inn was the source of numerous screams and howls, all coming steadily closer. She spun on her heels and took off down the deserted street towards the edge of town. Her mind raced as she ran.

She would flag down the Knight Bus where they had dropped her off. Had it been only one day? To Colette, the past twenty-four hours had felt like a lifetime…a lifetime she did not care to repeat or extend farther.

Behind her, she heard the deep, malicious howl of a werewolf as the moon shone in the night sky, and even though she knew that beneath the wild exterior was Ethan, she could not help the shivers that climbed her spine and spread throughout her body.

She skidded to a halt when she recognized Mr. Peterson's house, and was raising her wand hand to hail the Knight Bus when something hit her about her waist, pulling her to the ground. As she fell, she tightened her fingers about her wand. She scrambled to pull herself free from the weight on top of her, and as she did so, she managed to turn enough to seen the enraged face of the greasy man from the Inn.

"Ye are finished," he hissed at Colette. "Ye will never leave this town—alive."

"We'll just see about that," replied Colette.

She brought her wand between her and the vampire and muttered a charm she had learned years ago—conjuring silver. Suddenly, a silver knife shot from the tip of Colette's wand and pierced Archibald Delaney directly in the heart. The vampire shrieked in anguish as the silver burned him, and he fell backwards on to the ground, wriggling in pain.

With wide eyes, Colette slowly got to her feet as the vampire screamed one last time and then died, his body disintegrating into dust, leaving the shiny silver knife on the dirt street. Colette bent down and picked up the knife, wondering if she would have need of it again. As she slid it into her sash, a snarling scream intermingled with a werewolf's bellowing challenge pierced the air, and she knew that somewhere near the Inn, Ethan and Grimshaw had begun to battle.

"What are you doin' just a'standin' there, girl?" scolded the voice of Mr. Peterson. Colette spun around to find him standing in the open door of his house, pipe protruding from his lips. "Get inside 'fore these bloody blighters arrive."

"You knew, Mr. Peterson?" Colette gaped as she raced up the steps and slipped inside the old man's house. He shut the door behind her and bolted seven locks.

"Yea, I knew, but I thought you would be smart and leave town 'fore anything happened," replied the old man. He gave Colette a piercing look of reprimand. "I didn't think that you would be such a stubborn one, but then, the young hardly ever do as they are told."

As he paused to look out of a small window, she defended herself. "I was leaving, Mr. Peterson, but I was ambushed by them. Are we safe in here?" demanded Colette dubiously as Peterson limped passed her.

"Those aren't just any old locks, girl," grinned the old man after he blew smoke from his mouth. He indicated for her to follow him down the barren hall. "I've spent my life a'buildin' up the defenses of my house against the likes of them. I remember the werewolf invasion well, and just 'cause I talk like an uneducated Scotsman doesn't mean I hadn't any education. I used to be a professor at Hogwarts School in my younger days; that would've been 'fore your time, of course."

"And what did you teach, Professor?" Colette asked in surprise.

As they entered into what should have been a dining room, she realized that the paraphernalia mounted on the walls and covering every surface — be it the bookshelves, end tables, and even the floor — answered her question. Peterson turned around, a grim grin on his wrinkled face.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," stated the old man.

He took one long suck on his pipe, blew out one last smoke ring, and then set the pipe on the desk. His gnarled hands expertly grabbed the artifacts laid out and fitted all the pieces together to form a crossbow, the bolts of which were silver.

"How long have you know about them?"

"I started to suspect somethin' a few years after that bloody witch married Hugh," commented Peterson as he slipped spare bolts into a quiver at his belt. "That would've been during your first year at Hogwarts, I believe. I remember that Christmas Holiday well, I do. Hugh's boy came home all excited 'bout some pretty little girl he had seen, a'swearin' to the world that he was in love and that no matter what it took, he was goin' to marry that girl."

"Grimshaw," Colette muttered with an involuntary shudder.

"Yea, Grimshaw," repeated the old man. He moved away from the table and approached a cracked mirror that Colette recognized as a Foe Glass. Inside were blurry shapes. "But that is not his name rightly; at least, not the name his mother gave him. Mighty fine woman, that girl was. Named him Cameron, she did."

Colette's eyes widened in surprise. "Cameron? Cameron Moonsbane?" She paused a moment, trying to take in everything that Peterson had told her, but something was still missing. "What about you, Professor? Why haven't you done anything before now?"

"Didn't have a reason to," muttered the old man. He straightened and began perusing a shelf where more items laid.

"After the reporter vanished six years ago, the Ministry contacted me, inquirin' and all. That was when I started to have an inklin' that there was more than first meets the eyes happenin' down at the Owl's Nest. So I set up a right smart reconnaissance operation at the general store. I discovered a lot, believe you me."

"So what happened?" urged Colette.

"Take this, girl," ordered Peterson as he tossed a muggle-like pistol to her. Colette deftly caught the weapon and peered at it curiously. "Aim for the heart and pull the trigger if'n you see a vampire. The muggle contraption comes in mighty handy at times—it shoots wooden bullets."

Colette did not let the old man side-track her for long. She stuffed the pistol into her sash next to the silver knife and asked, "What happened next, Professor?"

"They caught on and threatened to expose my grandson," murmured the old man. "That hit mighty hard, if'n you know what I mean. My boy is the only family I've got left, since my son and his wife were killed. So, I sold the store to Cornwallis. Bloody git is one of their mindless minions, turned bloodsucker five years back. Anyway, I couldn't do much at the time and they did not think of me as much of a threat, so I retired peacefully to my fortified house, waitin' for the right time."

Peterson turned to Colette with a smirk on his wrinkled face. "And since you took care of that bloody vampire all by your lonesome, I think that now is a mighty fine time to finish off the rest of them."

"You have to hurry," she urged. "Ethan is out there all by himself, and I think he is fighting with Grimshaw."

"Ah," muttered the old man.

He did not say another word as he took hold of his weapons and left the room. Colette hastened to follow him, her skirts rustling noisily.

"He can take care of himself," Peterson called over his shoulder. "We need to worry ourselves with that bloody witch who began all this and Hugh, Cornwallis, and any other brainless gofers Shelley created."

"How can the two of us take on who knows how many vampires?" demanded Colette.

The former DADA professor gave her an encouraging wink. "Good aim, girl. Mighty good aim."