Mabli Bach Draculand

DRACULAND

chapter 1 the hunter

In the small town of Sooton, County Merlin, Walia, down a dark alleyway on the corner of Yew Street, stood the Hunter. They leaned against a brick wall sucking on a lolly, the collar of their jacket high and wide-brimmed hat sitting low over their eyes, hiding their face.

Their name was Alex Jäger, 13 years old, and had one been able to see their face under the black night sky, one would have seen that they gazed intently at a poster on the wall opposite. It was a most curious thing, this single piece of paper, flapping in the wind. Because it wasn’t the first one Alex had seen.

It was, in fact, the fifth poster Alex had seen since arriving in County Merlin three days ago. And the more posters Alex found, the harder they were getting to ignore.

Alex took the last of the lolly out of their mouth, and twirled the lollipop stick around in their fingers, thinking. Finally, they pushed themselves off the wall and walked over to the poster, slamming the loose corner down with their hand.

It read as follows:

Yep, another one.

Alex sighed. This was not good. Definitely not good.

Five missing children.

Five.

The sound of thunder broke Alex’s concentration and tiny droplets began to fall from the sky.

Pants. Did it ever stop raining in this country?

Don’t think there’ll be any more searching tonight, Alex thought. Back to HQ it was.

Alex looked around warily to make sure no-one was looking. The street was empty. Dead. Only the shining light of the moon, the thunder and the rain kept them company tonight. Or that’s what any normal person would think. Alex knew better. Things lurked, unseen, on nights such as these.

Alex tore the poster from the wall, stuffing it into their jacket pocket, and strode back down the alleyway and into the quiet streets of Sooton. The rain grew heavier and heavier as they walked. Anyone else would have run for shelter, but Alex was pretty used to being soaked by now. Anyone would be if they had travelled all the way from East Yoropa to Walia on foot, and their only umbrella now had a giant hole in it. Not that Alex would be able to find the umbrella in the cavernous pockets of their Hexenjacke, an enchanted jacket that Alex’s parents had acquired on their travels.

Alex knew what their parents would be doing if they were here now. They’d be off to find those missing children without a second thought. So would Alex, normally. But Bernhard and Sloane weren’t here. Not anymore.

Alex finally reached a field, and, trudging through squelching grass and mud, Alex got to a wooden gate that lead onto Gallows Hill. Winding their way through an overgrown cemetery, they eventually reached the abandoned church, otherwise known to Alex as HQ.

The church stood, dark and formidable on top of Gallows Hill. No-one knew how long it had been abandoned, but strange things kept happening there, so people kept their distance. Alex thought it must have been a nice

church at one time, but now the stained glass windows were boarded up, the roof leaked, and the once ornate objects inside were falling to bits and gathering dust. The cemetery had also seen better days. Long grass and ivy grew around the cracked tombstones, hiding the names that were engraved on them. Not that it mattered. It would seem that there was no living person around to remember or visit the poor souls who lived beneath.

Alex finally, thank the Magic Spirit in the Sky, reached the church door. By now they felt pretty gross; their wet jeans clung to their legs and their hat had gone all floppy.

Alex reached for the rusty door handle and was about to turn it – when they heard something. Alex stood still. The wind howled as the rain continued to pour. Something was there. Alex’s hairs stood on end, and an icy cold something crept up their face, numbing their skin. The hunter’s eyes narrowed as they finally heard the low moan they’d been waiting for.

Before the church was built, it had, true to the name of the hill it had been built on, been the site of a gallows. According to the old records Alex had found in the church, trials had been held in the town of Sooton, and seven witches had met their bitter end on this hill. Which meant, not only was there an official graveyard, but there were seven unmarked graves somewhere near the church too. And graves, especially unmarked ones, tend to come with evil spirits. The church, however well chosen as a hideout for protecting oneself from creatures of darkness, couldn’t protect you from spirits. For that, you needed other precautions.

Alex spun, just in time to see the ghost looming over them, with that familiar blue aura pulsating wildly and white eyes aglow. It was a woman in a torn white dress, her dark hair bedraggled and wild, face covered in dirt. Alex glimpsed the necklace floating around her. A rope with a pendant dangling from it, a detailed insignia etched into the glinting metal.

A witch.

Or more specifically, the vengeful ghost of one.

The ghost let out an ear-piercing scream and lunged. Stomach lurching,

Alex dodged her, ducking and rolling out of the way and scrambling to a tombstone just ahead. They dived behind it, and, trying to ignore their heart hammering in their chest, shoved their hands into their pockets, searching desperately for something to get rid of the ghost. Had she seen them? Alex snuck a quick look from behind the tombstone. The spirit stood still, rooted to the spot, looking directly at the tombstone Alex was hiding behind. A smirk played on the edge of her black lips.

Oh, Van Helsing’s pants.

“I see you, hunter,” the spirit rasped. She began to float, slowly creeping towards the grave.

Crêpes, she’s coming!

Alex whirled back behind the tombstone and continued to ransack their pockets. Where was it?!

Curse this stupid jacket! This was one of the many times Alex wished they had a normal jacket instead of a Hexenjacke. Being able to store all of your possessions in interdimensional pockets wasn’t much good when the stupid things were impossible to organise. Shrill laughter came from behind them, growing louder and louder.

Crêpes! Alex rummaged and rummaged through the ridiculously humongous pockets until…gotcha! They wrenched a lighter, a wand made of various crushed herbs and salt and a…cocktail umbrella (not quite what Alex had in mind but it would have to do) out of their pocket. Alex stood and turned to face the ghost, ramming the cocktail umbrella into the wand to shield it from the rain. The ghost crept ever closer, black teeth bared.

Alex readied the lighter, and…FLICK!

Nothing.

Flick! Flick!

Alex glanced up. The ghost was right there.

Flick!

Come on, you stupid son of a krampus! Come on!

Out stretched the spectre’s skeletal arms–

C’mon!

FLICK!

Just as the ghost was about to grab Alex, the wand lit up, and Alex jabbed the smoking stick into its horrible, wispy face.

The spirit writhed.

“GAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!”

With an ear piercing shriek, she shrunk into a ghostly blue orb and dived into the earth, back to rejoin her lifeless body.

Alex slumped back against the tombstone, breathing heavily, heart hammering still. That was close. Too close.

“You seriously need to learn how to exorcise and obliterate spirits. Before you end up possessed,” Alex whispered to themselves, shuddering at the thought.

Alex crept out from behind the tombstone, wand and lighter at the ready, just in case any of the other spirits got any ideas. Side-stepping around the ivy covered church wall until they arrived at the little arch over the door, they reached out behind them and fumbled for the handle. Taking it, they shoved the door open and slunk in backwards, still keeping both eyes on the graves. Thankfully, apart from the still pouring rain and the roar of thunder, the graveyard was silent. With one last wave of the herb wand around the outside of the door, they went inside, kicking the swollen door shut.

Alex had made their home in a small room inside the church. It was almost like a box, sitting in the corner and separated from the main church. Inside it, where there had once been pews for people to sit on, there was now an old desk, strewn with Alex’s papers, maps and various oddities; a goblin skull and a jar of cursed teeth to name a few. A pile of old, damp-smelling cushions were dumped on the floor, topped with a dirty star-patterned blanket. Behind the desk was an altar, adorned with dusty, gold objects, surrounding a crumbling statue of Saint Nonwen the Mediocre, who now had only one hand and various naughty things graffitied all over her skirt. (Alex had failed to sponge it off, so had fashioned Nonwen a new skirt out of old tea towels.) It was certainly nothing fancy, but it would do.

Alex walked through the church quickly, their every footstep echoing in the cold, dark void. They wished it wasn’t such a long walk to the little room. The church was just…too big. Through the gloom Alex could see the stony eyes of the cracked statues along the walls, staring down at them. Right now, they felt as if those eyes were real, staring into their very soul, judging.

Why aren’t you looking for them, Alex? Why aren’t you looking for those children?

Why?

Why? Why?

Because I’m supposed to be looking for my Clan.

Suddenly, out of the darkness, a sound. Creeeeeak!

Crêpes! Imagination now running wild, Alex broke into a run, not daring to stop until they reached the wooden doors that lead to the little room. They flung the doors open and dived inside, banging the doors shut and drawing a heavy pair of curtains across them.

Alex stood, still clinging to the curtains, keeping them shut tight and heaving for breath.

“There’s nothing there,” Alex told themselves, panting. “Nothing can get you here.”

Alex walked over to the desk, and taking a box of matches from the drawer, lit the candles that were on the desk and the altar of old votive candles by the wall. Alex placed their soggy hat on the rickety chair next to the desk, making sure to re-shape it first, and then grabbed a head torch from the desk. Ramming it on their head and turning it on, bright light streamed out ahead of them. Much better. After they changed out of their drenched clothing and put on their pajamas (an old Ze Slayerz band t-shirt and joggers that were far too small and showed enough ankle to

make a Victorian lady faint), they threw the star-patterned blanket over themselves like a cape and went to the hexenjacke once more. Alex rifled in the pockets, the usual odd spark of electricity running up their hands as they entered the pocket dimension, until they finally found the poster.

Grabbing a tack from the desk, Alex marched over to their investigation board and slammed the poster onto the board next to the others. Five faces stared back at Alex. Five children. Ages ranging from twelve to fifteen, all missing within the last three months.

Ash Bond

Ash has always loved myths, gods and monsters. So much so that she decided to study them, and graduated with a degree in Classics from Oxford University in 2009. After university, Ash’s adventures took her to Asia where she worked as a wilderness guide. It was on those long hikes that she learned that a good story well-told can keep you going through just about anything. Both myths and adventures infuse Ash’s work – whether a comedic Middle Grade quest, or a Young Adult verse novel inspired by Greek tragedy.

Having recently completed her Masters in Writing for Young People, she now works as a part-time yoga teacher and as a children’s bookseller in Wells. When not writing books, or talking about them, she can be found being walked by her polar bear of a dog.

ash@creativewild.co.uk

About Peregrine Quinn and the Cosmic Realm

The portal between Olympus and Earth has broken down, and its architect, the famous Daedalus Bloom, has gone missing! It is now up to twelveyear-old Peregrine Quinn to find him, fix the portals and save both realms from ultimate disaster. Luckily for Peregrine, she has some help – a CSI (Cosmic Sprite Investigations) Agent and a stress-eating faun.

The first pages of this piece won first place at the Winchester Writers’ Festival and a special mention in the United Agents Prize.