Halloween night.
A time for kids and kids at heart to dress up in ridiculous costumes and ring doorbells to get candy from strangers. For men and women, who really should know better, to wear sexy versions of perfectly normal costumes.
“So…” Hardhat adjusted her high visibility vest, “we going in there or what?”
They stared at the house.
It was hard not to notice how it stood out from the rest of the houses in the neighborhood.
Three stories instead of one.
A small footprint at ground level that widened on the next two.
Dark and Gothic, but a caricature of what an artist might’ve thought was spooky.
Lots of pointed bits on the roof and corners.
“Gargoyles! So many gargoyles!” Spiritwalker said. “I should’ve brought my kids!”
Mouthy raised a brow.
“Gargoyles are huge in my house right now.”
“You finally let them watch that cartoon I told you about?” Creepy Chipmunk said.
“Yeah. Figured they’re old enough to get the mature themes.”
“Original series or reboot?”
“Original.”
“Nice!”
“Once we finish we’re hitting the reboot and the new series.”
They exchanged an intricate dance of hand slaps and fist bumps.
“Fucking morons… you two, not your kids,” Mouthy clarified. “They’re fucking adorable. Anyways, fuck your cartoon shit. Terrible shit animation. All pixellated and shit. Couldn’t get past 5 minutes.”
“What’d you expect?” Creepy Chipmunk scoffed. “It was from the 90’s… the 1990’s.”
“What do you think, captain?” Aims kept one hand on the revolver on his right hip, adjusted his cowboy hat, then pulled out the fake cigar sticking out from the corner of his mouth.
Fake in the sense that it wasn’t tobacco or any other poison.
It was actually strawberry cheesecake flavored and the smoke contained zero harmful elements. It was essentially the same as breathing non-polluted air.
The rangers waited on Captain Butcher even though they were no longer Squad 13 and they all shared the rank.
“I’m thinking I should’ve pushed harder against Halloween this year.”
It was hard to argue with the distant and not so distant booms in the sky.
One could almost fool themselves into thinking that it was a fireworks show and not their skyships battling flying monsters and the occasional squadron of harpies.
“Should be safe-ish,” Hardhat shrugged, “Rayna and her bro are providing security. I’d almost want those bastards to try something just so they can find out.”
Gasps.
“Oh, come on! I said ‘almost’. Obviously, I’m pulling for no big catastrophes so everyone can have some fun… especially the kids.”
“Where are your little ankle stabbers anyways?” Mouthy punched Spiritwalker and Creepy Chipmunk in their arms… hard.
The former winced, while the latter flowed with it with unconscious effort.
Spiritwalker rubbed the offended area. Faint light sparkled as what looked like tiny fireflies danced underneath his fingers. The spirits would ensure that there would be no bruising.
“I wasn’t about to bring my family to this suspicious place,” he sniffed. “They’re at the beach festival. I’m hoping this won’t take long and I can meet up with them for the haunted play show thing.”
“Mine are scrounging for candy in my wife’s parents’ neighborhood. At least the youngest one is,” Creepy Chipmunk said. “More importantly, what are you wearing?”
“Sexy dinosaur,” Mouthy said.
Purple, complete with a tail. And a bikini for some reason.
“What the fuck, you got a problem with it? I saw plenty of sexy bullshit on my way here. Chicks, dudes, everyone be all dressing up as sexy scientists and stupid shit. Buncha pervs using this night as an excuse.”
“Don’t slut shame!” Hardhat laughed.
“Ain’t shaming when I’m just speaking fucking truths.”
“None of that explains why you decided to go with that costume?”
“Suck my purple dinosaur vag, Shittywalker.” Mouthy shot a rude gesture. “I’m making a statement.”
“She’s just mad that she didn’t have duty tonight,” Hardhat patted the large dinosaur head.
Mouthy slapped her hands away. “Nah, fuck that. This is my duty right here. Command said I had to put on a costume and enjoy the festivities or whatever. Have to write a report too. Can you believe that shit? I’m over 50 in both age and level and they’re treating me like some wet-diapered junior ranger.”
“You have been especially surly and insubordinate of late.”
“I’m warning you, Cunty Chipmunk. Your lady, who is way too good for you, said I could smack the lip out of your mouth if you got too annoying.”
“You can do that, but you can’t silence the truth.”
“Yeah, Mouthy. He’s usually a dick, but he isn’t wrong.”
“Same goes for you, Sluttywalker.”
“Is it a class thing?”
Mouthy ground her teeth for a long moment while the rangers, even Captain Butcher regarded her with genuine concern.
Her class was powerful, special, but it came with added difficulties, burdens.
“Yeah, no, maybe.” She sighed. “It’s mostly the nightmares.”
Crickets chirped in the silence for what felt like a long time.
“Nightmares, huh?” Creepy Chipmunk adjusted the collar of his sexy priest costume, which was essentially a black vest without a shirt underneath in order to showcase his lean-muscled form and black shorts that were much too short to be deemed acceptable by the general populace, let alone his in-laws. They truly didn’t get along. Largely because of their religiousness and his lack thereof. Although, the fact that he was about twice his partner’s age probably was the biggest conflict point. In his defense, as he always pointed out, he might have been in his early 50’s, but he looked 10— if not 15— years younger. One couldn’t dispute that he had the abs of a much younger and very athletic man. “Been having those a lot lately.”
Captain Butcher’s eyes narrowed.
“Anyone else been having nightmares over the last few weeks?”
Affirmatives all around.
“Right then. That settles it. This must be the witch thing.”
Spiritwalker frowned. “That is the vibe I’m getting from the magic coming off this place.”
“Command meeting last week. There was an item about one of Wytchraven’s asking for permission for some kind of op here. Went straight to the top without any discussion. I checked in on it again and got nothing beyond the notice that it was approved and not to worry about it.”
“So… what? It’s like a game? A haunted house? Just for us?” Creepy Chipmunk returned the pistol to his drop leg holster and Igorot axe to his bag of holding.
“Seems like a lot of effort for a game.” Hardhat touched her eponymous relic. “Then again, witches are crazy bitches. This game could be deadly serious and helpful. I can’t see them getting approval if there wasn’t something to gain or benefit us in the end.”
“Are we gearing up or what?” Mouthy looked hopeful… ridiculous in her bikini-clad purple dinosaur costume… but hopeful at the possible end to her torment.
“You didn’t get that thing enchanted?” Aims raised a brow. “I got mine done.”
“My shits in my bag. I can put it on quick with my Skill.”
“I’m checking in with command,” Captain Butcher said.
The others lowered their voices while keeping one ear on their old captain’s increasingly agitated exchange with the escalating ranks of unfortunate rangers on the other end.
Hardhat nudged Spiritwalker in the ribs.
“Hey, Rai, your wife’s a lawyer, right?”
“An attorney. The youngest in the land!” He beamed. “Why? Need legal advice?”
“Youngest?” Mouthy snorted. “I always knew you two fuckers would turn out to be cradle robbers. Even back then, I saw the pervy old men in your souls.”
“A 15 year difference might seem like a lot now, but when I’m 115 and she’s a 100 you naysayers are going to look foolish for ever trying to get in the way of true love,” Creepy Chipmunk said.
“Jesus stab your eyes!” Mouthy hissed. “I hate it, but you ain’t lying. You’re lucky about that. Still gross though.”
“C’mon!”
“I might change my mind when you hit that century mark.”
“Besides, it’s way worse with Rai. Your wife old enough to drive yet?”
“Ignore them.” Hardhat took a moment as if uncertain on what to say next or to even say it at all. “I’ve been thinking I need to write up a will or something like that. For my stuff… well, mostly for this.” She tapped her father’s old hardhat. Well… hers now.
“You? A will? No way!” Spiritwalker said. “For a woman pushing 60 you don’t look a day over 50.”
“Yeah, well, I’m feeling it everyday. Weaker, stiffer and more tired.”
“There are things for that. Potions, spells, maybe you can pick up a longevity Skill?”
“Temporary and they feel wrong for me. Like, I don’t want to prolong it. Like, I want it to end when it’s meant to end.”
“Sure, I’ll let my wife know. Hell, why not come over tomorrow. She’s not working.”
“Nah, thanks, but I’ll make a proper appointment.”
“You haven’t been over in a while. The kids love trying on your hat and having sharp, dangerous things thrown at them.”
Hardhat gave Spiritwalker a flat-eyed stare. “I want your wife to help me to the best of her ability.”
“Okay, that makes perfect sense.”
“… what do you mean knock or don’t?” Captain Butcher grunted. “That’s even more cryptic than usual for you, Cal…”
“Fuck it, I’m gearing up.” Mouthy tore the bikini dinosaur costume off and started pulling pieces of her standard armor from her bag of holding. “Well?” she snapped when the others simply shrugged.
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“Enchanted cowboy leathers.” Aims tipped his hat and blew a strawberry cheesecake scented ring of smoke in her face.
“Hardhat.”
“But I look so sexy in this.”
“My spirits are only mildly concerned.”
They watched their captain nod and grumble a few more times before she stowed her smartphone.
“He gave me nothing to go on. Go or don’t. It’s up to us.”
“Whatever you say, captain,” Hardhat said.
She shook her head.
“Years and you still won’t get it into your heads that we’re all captains.”
“More fun this way, sir!” Spiritwalker saluted.
“You’ll be my captain for life, sir! Even when you’re old, gray and wrinkled… er… even moreso than now… respectfully, sir!” Creepy Chipmunk saluted. “You know what they say. Fear the old woman in a job where they die young.”
“I’m not that much older than you, captain,” she snorted.
“Respectfully, sir, but 20 years is—”
“Less than the difference between you and your woman, cradle robbing pervert fucker.”
“That’ll be enough of that for tonight, rangers.” Despite her protests Captain Butcher smoothly slid into a commanding presence. “Go or don’t go,” she mused. “I’m leaving it up to each of you. But, I’m going in. They put too much effort in this for it not to be worth exploring. I can’t imagine it was easy to get each of us to independently show up here within minutes of each other.”
“I got a text,” Hardhat said.
“Same.”
“Me too.”
“Spirit whispers.”
“Nightmare.”
“Alright. That settles it,” Captain Butcher said. “Standard breach formation. Hardhat on point. I’ll knock. Aims cover us. The rest of you fill in where you think is best.”
“Yippie kay yay! Let’s rustle up them cattle!”
Mouthy whispered to Spiritwalker.
“Say, did the enchantments on that stupid costume also make him stupid?”
“Not that I can see.”
The rangers pushed through the iron gate that seemed to be slightly askew compared to the rest of the fence, which somehow looked strong and foreboding while simultaneously on the verge of collapse.
The door was an imposing thing of ebon wood and wrought iron.
A fearsome visage, snarling like the gargoyles on the roof, held a thick, iron ring in its fanged mouth.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
It opened with a grinding ponderousness of weight beyond its apparent appearance.
The space was a dark void. Empty but for the hint of furniture and voluminous curtains at windows they couldn’t see.
They cleared the pie, so to speak, using what they knew of the layout of such houses rather than visual sight.
“Clear?” Hardhat covered most of her body with a large, rectangular shield.
“My sight Skills don’t seem to be working at their best,” Aims said.
“That is because by entering you have accepted my terms.”
A soothing voice hit them from every direction.
“Witch, let’s cut the crap.” Captain Butcher stood as though she addressed a roomful of rangers rather than a dark, spooky void. “We’re game. So, get your cards on the table.”
“A prescient choice of words, Captain Everly Butcher.”
The void vanished in a flare of light.
They recoiled, only finely honed discipline kept fingers off their triggers and spells on their fingers.
The stars vanished with many blinks, revealing a macabre tableau where there should’ve been a boring, normal living room
“Let us, as you said, place your cards on the table.”
The witch sat behind a large and ornate table.
Six empty chairs arrayed in front of her.
Her wide-brimmed hat cast a rich shadow of truest black over her entire body, which wasn’t well-hidden in tight robes that displayed an impressive figure.
The hat on its own loomed ominously.
The gargoyles perched on the roof outside wouldn’t have looked out of place were they on the brim instead.
As for her face?
The rangers saw only eyes that shined like a predator’s and a smile of startling white that put the moon to shame.
“This better not be the spookiest game of poker ever,” Hardhat said.
“Yeah, fuck that noise. One time was one time too many,” Mouthy said.
“That time was more terrifying than spooky,” Spiritwalker said.
“Hold up! Everly? That’s your real name?” Creepy Chipmunk goggled. “Er… respectfully, sir!” he saluted. “That’s what the ‘E’ in her file stood for?”
“You read her file?” Hardhat said flatly.
“Don’t tell me you weren’t curious too? No one called her anything other than Butcher or captain.”
“I may have read it as well. But purely for operational reasons when I first made captain. You know, to better my relationship with my fellow captains and such.” Hardhat shrugged.
“You have me at a disadvantage, witch. I know your class. I’ve worked with others in your coven. Commanded a handful of witches in the rangers. The truth of my name wasn’t your secret to share. There is cost to you for violating that, isn’t there?”
“Will my true name suffice?”
“I’ll take an explanation for all this. A concise one. Straight to the point. Not cryptic. No rhymes.”
“Very well.” The witch sighed. “We all labor under vague and uncertain doom on most days. You, six, however, hold fates that are a bit more certain.”
“Lady, were in the middle of a war, the Bountiful Decade and bullfucking world events. I’m figuring that’s actually a bit fucking more than just a ‘bit more certain’. Jesus piss on—”
Mouthy’s mouth snapped shut at Captain Butcher’s glance.
“I am here to nudge your fates.”
“In what direction?”
“To that which benefits the most.”
The witch slipped a deck of cards from her sleeve and placed it on the table. Larger than standard playing cards, they seemed to glow and vibrate. As if they were struggling to hold in the rangers’ supposed fates.
“Shall we begin?”
Captain Butcher nodded.
Each ranger made for a chair.
Ornate things of finely carved wood and stitched fabric.
Oddly enough, when Spiritwalker grasped the back, it felt more like a chair at a large backyard party. One of those inexpensive folding one.
“Before you take your seats. A moment, if you will?” The witch’s elegant fingers caressed the back of her deck.
Captain Butcher nodded.
The witch drew the top card, but before she could flip it over, Mouthy cleared her throat.
“Don’t you got to shuffle first? I’ve sat through this gremlinshit a couple of times before.” She shrugged. “This is that tarot turd stuff, right?”
“Don’t antagonize the witch!” Hardhat hissed.
“No offense taken.” The witch flipped the card over.
“Uh… it’s blank,” Creepy Chipmunk said.
“I take it back,” Mouthy sighed. “This is something different, but even more stupider than that tarot crap.”
“Eh, I don’t know about that.” Spiritwalker's fingers wiggled and clenched unconsciously. “Seeing magic.”
The witch’s hooded smile grew impossible wide. “The craft manifests differently for us all.”
Mouthy opened her mouth and shut it.
That was technically true.
At least that’s how it was for her past tarot readings.
Each one seemed to interpret the same cards differently.
Both hit on about half of their predictions for her.
The lack of hard and fast rules when it came to magic really stuck in her gums like a missed fish bone.
Witches were even worse.
“You damn, dirty witches and making up your own damn, dirty rules all the—”
A hand slapped over her mouth.
Two.
And another pair to seize her around the neck and arms.
If the outburst bothered her, the witch gave no sign as she lazily spun the blank card on her finger like a basketball before flicking it to spin faster and faster as it hovered in front of each empty chair like a UFO looking for a landing spot for a fun night of human probing.
The witch’s eyes flashed.
“There!”
The card dropped.
A rainforest bird called.
“You!” She pointed at Spiritwalker with a finger that looked a lot longer and pointier than it had a few seconds ago. “Sit! Or leave. The choice is yours. Return to your family and enjoy what time you have left or not.”
“That’s ominous.” So said, Spiritwalker didn’t hesitate to take his seat at rightmost chair from the witch’s perspective.
“Another!” She tapped the deck and a second card levitated.
This one was also blank, but a sickly brown color.
“You!” She thrust a finger at Mouthy. “For the foulness in your mouth that you hide behind. Sit!”
Mouthy shrugged the hands off her.
She had let them hold her back after all.
“How come I don’t get a choice like him?”
“You’ve already made that choice a long time ago.”
The foul-mouthed ranger sat to the witch’s left, second from the end.
More cards followed in quick succession. All blank, some the same color, but given a different interpretation by the witch. Until every ranger had taken a chair.
“Chair feels weird,” Aims said. “Looks expensive, feels cheap.”
“Yup,” Spiritwalker said.
“Really?” Hardhat frowned. “Feels like the most comfy chair I’ve sat in a while.”
“You’re such a dumb bitch,” Mouthy said. “I keep telling you to get a custom one done. Even gave you my guy’s name. Shit’s like sitting on a pair of angel hands the way they cushion my—”
“And I told you I’m not paying that much for a chair.”
“Tsk. It ain’t like you don’t got the points for it.”
“Quiet. Let the witch start.”
“Yes, sir, captain, sir, Captain Everly Butcher, sir!” Creepy Chipmunk said.
“I ain’t letting no nameless witch read my fate. Been around you weird bitches enough to pick up a few things. Like names mean stuff and shit,” Mouthy said.
“I am a simple witch of portents guided by my auguries. Allow me to do the same for you.”
“Let’s just get this over with.” Hardhat glared at Mouthy.
“Fine, fine. But if all those cards are blank I’m gonna—”
The witch flicked a card at her forehead.
This time the white card wasn’t blank.
It had a picture of an—
“She’s the asshole!” Creepy Chipmunk laughed.
“Uh… what does that foretell, Ms. Witch, respectfully?” Aims said. He knew curses, saw them done to others, didn’t want one shot his way.
Mouthy cursed, ripping the card from her forehead.
“The fuck you taints going on about? It’s just a 6.”
The number 6 in plain black on white background.
“Hit me!” Creepy Chipmunk tapped the table like he was playing blackjack and not consorting with fate itself.
“The cards move as they will.”
One by one they flew from the deck to each ranger.
1 through 8.
“Why no 3 and 4?” Aims said.
The witch hesitated.
“Fate is a shrouded window.”
“That means she don’t know shit,” Mouthy scoffed.
“Why is my number flickering?” Captain Butcher’s said in a voice softer than any of the other rangers could remember her every using.
The 8 on her card faded in and out from bold to almost imperceptible.
“Uncertainty.” The witch cleared her throat. “Let me explain how we shall proceed. I will give a brief reading for each of you. We skim the surface in preparation for a breach into the skeins of your fates.” She gestured to the hallway. “My apprentices await you in their rooms for a more comprehensive experience.”
“Apprentices?” Captain Butcher frowned. “Wouldn’t a full witch be better for this?”
“We are all just passengers on the currents of existence. From the past we are carried from to the present all around us to the future we cannot see around the bend.”
“Augury shit or whatever, captain.” Mouthy smirked at the witch. “Did I get that right? Or do you need to augurize up an answer?”
“That remains to be seen.” The witch took up the deck and fanned it from one hand to the other, back and forth faster and cleaner than a card shuffling champion from the old days. “The first— oh—” one flew out to land in front of Hardhat.
A knight astride a horse.
Helm visor up to reveal a skull.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Hardhat snapped.
“Death—” the witch began.
“Relax. It don’t always mean ‘death’ death. Could be like a change into something new and different.”
“Why’s it spinning?”
The card slowly rotated. Top pointed to Hardhat, then bottom and back again.
“Uncertainty.”
The witch remained silent for a long moment.
“Next person.”
A second card flipped out of the shuffling mass between her hands.
“Are you not going to address this?” Hardhat pointed at her spinning death card.
“It is as it is.”
“Hey!” Creepy Chipmunk thrust an accusatory finger at the death card next to his 2 card. “Isn’t there only supposed to be one of these?”
“Yeah, I’m calling witchshit on this. Last two times I did this those major-whatever cards don’t show up twice,” Mouthy said.
“The craft is different for us all,” the witch said sagely.