The Power of Ten

Two years pass...

Sama saw the Park Rover coming up the drive, and narrowed her eyes. She automatically removed herself from line of sight of it, working inside the barn as she was, stepping to the window to get a better look at who was inside.

Department of Fish and Game? All the alarm bells were going off here.

“Chomps!” The dog bounced to attention. “Run out there, bark like a fool, and see if there’s a werewolf or something strange inside that damn car.”

Happy to be a nuisance, the Alsatian-mix raced out of the barn, tail up, wagging, and barking like a chihuahua to beat the band.

Her father was working on a tractor in the shed, and hearing the dog, came out quickly to see what was happening. He shot a glance towards the barn as he wiped off his hands, and came out to see the visitors... who obligingly shifted course from the house when they saw him.

The brown and green vehicle dusted to a halt, and a man and a woman got out carefully, glancing at the bouncing Chomps, who had picked up a ball on the way and was prancing about as if he’d found a new person to play with. He was obviously not a threat, especially with the yellow bandana tied around his neck.

“Chomps, leave these people alone,” Darren Piotrowski snapped casually, clapping his hands. Tail drooping, Chomps ran back off, dropping the old baseball on the way. Darren swept his eyes over the lean woman driver and male rider in the forestry garb of Idaho Fish and Game curiously, making mental notes on whether he had any licenses that were out of date. “Wardens,” he greeted them casually. “What brings you out to my farm on such a nice day?”

“Hello there.” The woman took the lead, offering him a firm handshake, which he accepted cordially. “Warden Michelle Elgerton, this is Travis Zemenov.” He shook the man’s hand, too. “We’re doing some drive-by surveying. We’ve had some reports of wolves getting into the herds, and were wondering if you’ve heard or seen anything.”

“Wolves?” Darren frowned, and looked up at the treeline behind the property. “We run four dogs to mind the cows, and don’t run sheep, which really seem to draw them in. Haven’t had any problems with wolves, although I’ve heard ’em howling in the distance. I heard the Salasters got hit a week or so ago, but they don’t run dogs.”

He was actually fairly sure that Sama had gone out there and warned any wolves that if they got anywhere near her territory she was going to Kill Them All, and so they kept a fairly healthy and respectful distance away from the family property.

“Really?” The warden appeared impressed. “No tracks along the edge of the property or anything?”

“Well, I do a sweep of the property once a week or so, and haven’t seen any tracks or spoor come down past the ridge-line. There aren’t many deer in the area here, probably because of the dogs, who sometimes go running at night and like to chase them around.” He regarded them sternly. “Are there new packs coming in? The area probably can’t support so many. I try not to hunt the deer, knowing they need ‘em, and truth be told I haven’t had much problem with the deer coming down into the corn the last couple of years. I think the wolves have been taking them at the edge of the fields and dragging them off.” Again, he was pretty sure that Sama had given them carte blanche to take out deer in the corn fields, given he’d discovered a dozen or more carcasses at the periphery of them.

“You seem to be pretty luckkkk...”

The flash of golden light, wound about with liquid purple, went through her neck in midsentence. It flashed sideways, and buried itself into the side of the skull of the man with a sparking discharge of energy. He was just starting to sprout lengths of fur across his face as he jumped back, just not quickly enough.

Darren blinked in shock, gawking as the corpses of both of the wardens dropped in place. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen his daughter kill someone, but it was the first time she had just popped out of being invisible and executed someone so ruthlessly!

He noticed the unnaturally dark color jetting out of the woman’s neck instantly as he got out of the way of the spray coming out the stump. He wanted to say something, and then saw the look on Samantha’s face as she stared at the woman.

“Papa, get your phone,” she said, as her golden Sword snapped off, revealing the long Dagger beneath it.

There was a note of hate and disgust in her voice he had never heard before, and then he noticed something.

Dark misty flames were starting to rise from the woman, and her skin was darkening to an unnatural green, while bones were starting to shift and creak and extend as she put on a lot of weight out of nowhere...

“Shit,” he muttered, and raced back to the shed to get his phone, tearing his eyes from the Hag that was returning to her natural form before his eyes.

“Samantha!” her mother Karen called out, coming down the steps. Chomps had come running back out, his formerly cheerful demeanor nowhere in evidence, growling faintly at the dead, especially the now seven-foot tall monstrosity that had burst out of a forest warden’s clothing.

“Mama,” Sama replied, as the black smoke wound around her, caressing her skin... and blue-black lines began to erupt at the contact, dark and foul.

She didn’t try to run away, because it would be useless to do so. Karen gasped as she saw what was happening, but her attention was on the severed, distorted head of the Hag, which had a nose nearly six inches long, teeth like misaligned iron needles, hair like a spiky thatch of nettles, and yellow eyes, even dead and confused, that were brimming with wicked intent. “What... this is a greenhag...” she identified it after a moment.

Sama had been certain to show both of her parents pictures of dead Hags, letting them know what the danger might be. “Yes, and killing her has triggered my Curse. It’ll start after dusk tonight. I should have had another six months...” She spat on the Hag’s carcass, as Darren came running back with his cellphone in hand.

“Do we have to go?” Karen asked, making an effort to stay calm at the sight of the horrible creature in front of her.

“I don’t think so. Papa, dial this number.” He had instinctively held out the phone to her, belatedly realized that was a bad idea, and as she rattled off the numbers, punched them in.

It rang on the other end three times, and then a reluctant, dangerous voice answered on the other end, “Who is this?”

“Darren Piotrowski, sir,” he replied instantly. “Calling on behalf of Sama. One second.” He handed the phone over, and Sama took it very carefully, making sure to hit none of the buttons.

“Strikes As Shadows,” she said calmly, and heard him grunt. “You now owe me a Big Favor, and I’m collecting. I’m sitting here on top of a dead greenhag and a werewolf of the same bloodline as that Hagbound pack you’ve been looking for. I need you to get here promptly and claim these kills very, very loudly.”

“That is a Big Favor,” he noted. “Why are we owing it to you?”

“That necklace you just had me burn wasn’t of Hag make?” she snorted at him. “They traced it to this area, and sent in a team to look around for traces of its Aura. She was attracted by something, and came to this farm. I told you that if doing this creates trouble and a personal attack by your enemies, you owe me a Big Favor, and I’m collecting.”

“Give me the address,” he grunted, and she rattled it off promptly. “Less than an hour,” he promised, and hung up.

Sama handed back the phone. “As of an hour ago, the two of you went shopping, and are going to pick the kids up directly from school, and head off to see Gramma and Grampa. I’ll close everything up, and I will not be here when you get back.

“Start the process of selling off the farm after the harvest season, and move. The weres will spread the word that they ambushed a Hag at a farm while the family was away, but her sisters and aunties will still investigate... if she’s out here doing footwork, she’s a minion to a greater Hag.

“I won’t be here when you return. Killing this thing has activated my Curse, and it’s going to go nuts at dusk. I won’t look like me when I get done breaking the thing, and I won’t be able to come back.

“Goodbye, Mama. Goodbye, Papa.” She embraced them both, as they both sighed, looked at the corpses there, and hugged her back. “Go. There’s not much time.”

Without wasting time, her parents raced inside, going through the house, grabbing the go-bags all the kids were required to have packed, grabbing them up, coming outside, and throwing them in the truck. They hugged her a final time, got in, and drove off with grim faces, leaving her alone there, the dark mists of the Curse coiling around her.

She wasn’t stupid enough to be there when the werewolves arrived, either. They would promptly attack her for being a Hag themselves, and butchering them all for their stupidity would just make matters worse.

She had her own go-bags packed, and could be up and out of here with her key stuff in ten minutes. She closed her eyes, clenched her fists to fight down the rage at the damn Hag that had triggered this whole mess, and raced off.

The painted black on her skin didn’t stop rising, even when she was far beyond the range of the Cursed smoke...

-------

Technically, she could have gone to a church of the Sylune and requested sanctuary for this. Of course, that would have broadcast the fact to all and sundry, especially since she wasn’t requesting the Ritual of the Silver Queen. The results would have caused a sensation, and she was fairly certain that she was the only Rantha Hag here, as she’d had her sisters do searches for key phrases she would have left for herself, and found none.

She didn’t need no Ritual of the Silver Queen. She had already won the fight; she was a Null, and always had been. She was just going to tear into this damn Curse, rip it open, take the power out, and trample it into the mud.

But, she couldn’t destroy it. A Curseline needed a Curse, after all. Could she even have kids? She wasn’t sure... but she was sure they’d be Rantha Hags if she could.

Nope, beat it down and make it serve her. Having the Curse seemed to be a precondition for being able to see the Scurve, among other things, and certainly it reacted in the presence of Evil and other Curses. She’d just have to train it properly...

So, she’d prepared a place. It was five miles away, in the middle of nowhere, with no sacred sites, faerie rings, places of power, ley lines, or anything of any magical importance within at least a mile. She’d had to haul some multi-ton rocks into place, and then chisel a few Runes into them to contain most of the magical fallout from what she was going to do... but it was just a one-time thing, so easy to hide and easy to use.

That was where she was heading now, with her most important Tools and alchemy equipment sitting on top of her Floating Forge, extra clothes, and what few reminders of her family that she could take that wouldn’t lead others back to them.

The werewolves would probably figure out the Piotrowskis were her family, but would hopefully shut up about it as irrelevant if they weren’t around... and in a year, her family would be gone to someplace new.

She was starting a new stage of her life now, and despite the regret at having to leave her family behind, she couldn’t deny she wasn’t looking forward to it some. Her opportunities for beating on stuff and making Karma quickly for the last twelve years had been pretty sparse, which also meant that advancing Tremble’s Name had been slooooow, especially given how much extra Gear she had to acquire and upgrade.

Happily, the werewolves had been sending her some nasty shit that she could burn away, easing some of the monetary loads significantly. Goldweight came in, goldweight flowed out...

The clearing wasn’t all that far at a steady pace, and she would be there well below nightfall. Then it was going to be a night full of suck, and what she would be doing with herself after that...

======

Behind her, a truck full of werewolves in human form pulled into the Piotrowski farm, noting the Fish and Game truck, and the two corpses sprawled in the middle of the drive.

There were no humans around, only an irrelevant tamed farm dog with a yellow bandana by the barn. Chomps watched them silently as they scoured the area, secured the corpses and the car, sniffed around to make sure there were no surprises, and then departed to spread the word that they’d killed a Hag and a rogue werewolf by laying an ambush at a farm while the family there was away.

If they were wondering how their Tainted-Fetish-burning young witch of a contact had popped the head of a Hag so easily, they saved it for another time.