out in peals of laughter.
“Oh, man,” one of them said around gasps for air. “You had us going for a moment there, mate. Ghosts, goblins, and spooks are boogey men for little kids. Do we look like children to you, mister?”
“Actually, yes,” Max said, his tone flat and even.
“Well, you can take your ghost stories and shove them, mate. We aren’t interested.”
“Your loss,” Max said. “The process is much less painful if you don’t fight it.”
“Pro…Process?” the stammerer asked. “What are you––?”
“Oh, did I not mention what was about to happen here?” he shrugged. “Forgive me. I’m still new to speaking English. You Americans talk so strange. You four have been chosen for a great honor.”
“We—we have?”
“Indeed,” the Slaugh said, the smile back in place. “You four are going to be my new Wild Hunt.”
“But you said the Wild Hunt was made up of dead Irish sinners.” another of the men said as realization started to dawn. His face blanched white. “We’re not dead.”
“Details,” Max said, his smile widened so much it looked as though his face was going to split open.
Suddenly, the temperature in the bar dropped. An unearthly howl split the air, seemingly coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once. A fierce wind accompanied the wild screeching sound, echoing off the walls and bar as the souls of the Slaugh’s dispatched comrades joined him at last.
It had taken some doing to recall their essence from the ether where they had been sent so many long years ago, but now they were once more tied to the mortal plane. All they needed were new hosts to tether them fully.
That’s where the bar’s patrons came in. The ruffians were youthful, their bodies in prime shape with decades left ahead of them. They were ideal candidates for hosts. Plus, after spending even as short a time with them as he had, the Slaugh suspected that there would be no one to miss them and even fewer who would be surprised when they disappeared from the routine of their fleeting mortal lives.
Now and forever more, they belonged to the Slaugh.
They screamed, tried to escape. Two ran toward the door, which refused to open no matter how much they pulled against it. The remaining two thought to fight back. Neither action would work in their favor. All fighting back would accomplish was to provide sport for the specters of his brothers and that made taking over their forms all the more enjoyable. It was always more palatable to seize prey that fought back to those that surrendered without a fight.
It was over in minutes.
As silence settled once more over the bar, Max Conrad smiled ashis newly rebirthed brothers stood before him wearing their new bodies.
“Welcome back, brothers,” the Slaugh said with pride. “As of tonight, The Wild Hunt rides again and this world… this world shall burn beneath our feet.”
Howls of laughter filled the night as the hunt began anew.
A lexandra Holzer shivered against the cold as she climbed the front steps of her family’s home. The Holzer family lived in a large rambling two-story house that sat in the center of a normally well-manicured lawn overlooking the Hudson River. The white painted exterior stood like a beacon in contrast to the green of the ivy that covered the side walls and the vibrant colors of nature that surrounded it most of the time. With winter kicking into high gear, the leaves were gone and only the gnarly naked tree limbs swayed in the icy breeze blowing in off the river. At night, the combination of trees, wind, and a bright moon overhead mixed with the evening fog in a manner that created a most spectacular spooky atmosphere.
There was a tree near the house that Alexandra particularly loved. It jutted close to the house near her bedroom window. She would never tell her parents, but she had used that tree’s thick, sturdy limbs to sneak out of the house on a few different occasions. Oh, it was nothing sordid. On those
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