DB# 14 Halloween special
Edited by kenjisato
How far would you go to save your friend's life?
***
The group of kids reached the porch of the old Carter mansion. Under the moon's pale light, the white pillars looked skeletal, like the bones of a great beast.
"Ring the bell, Lily," a boy, disguised as Batman, told a girl in Harley Quinn's costume.
The girl tiptoed to reach the doorbell and rang it.
A couple of minutes later, the big wooden door opened slowly, and an old butler, carrying a candle lantern, let the group in.
"Welcome," he said in a slow, ghostly voice. "What brings you here, young monsters?"
"We come to trick-or-treat and collect our sweets," the girl in the Harley Quinn outfit said.
Several heads nodded.
"Follow me. The master is waiting for you."
It was a group of ten kids who had been looking forward to trick-or-treating at the old mansion. Some of their parents were with them.
"They say Marcus Carter has the best candies and chocolates in town, Red," a werewolf girl whispered to a boy with ginger hair dressed as a pirate.
The boy gulped and whispered back, "I hope so, Maggie, this place is truly scary."
Their footsteps echoed through the dark hall.
The butler guided them through a long corridor to the library. He opened the door, and announced, "You have visitors, sir."
Then, he turned around, and said, "You may go inside. Sit around the master's couch and don't touch anything."
A fire burned in the fireplace, taking the chill from the room. Above the mantelpiece hung four swords against the battered Carter's family crest.
The kids' eyes flashed in the flickering light.
On the mantel, a variety of blackened silver objects lay on haphazard display; candlesticks, goblets, a clock framed in silver gilt, flanked by small enameled boxes set, with tiny diamonds, rubies, and emeralds.
Two tapestries, stained and ragged along the edges, hung against the walls, one beside the door, and the other to the right of the fireplace.
An old man sat on a huge velvet couch, his folded hands resting calmly on a leather-bound book over his lap. His eyes were closed as if he was sleeping.
Marcus Carter didn't need a costume or makeup to look scary. The dancing flames cast shadows across his face through the darkness. His wrinkled face, illuminated by the flames, made him look like a very old demon.
He said nothing, and barely moved.
The group of ten kids sat in a semi-circle around the couch in complete silence. They huddled close to each other, mingling the living warmth of their bodies, conscious of the darkness surrounding them. They talked in whispers afraid to disturb the spirits that seemed to dance in the shadows.
The kid with ginger hair crawled slowly to a table full of candies, and chocolates, and tried to grab some.
"Stop your plunder, young pirate!" a gravelly voice stopped the boy in his tracks.
Marcus Carter's eyes were opened. He looked even scarier than before.
"Red, behave," his mother warned him.
"Before getting your loot, you need to hear my story!" Marcus looked at the group of young faces sitting cross-legged on the carpet, assembled around him.
"Stories often begin with 'Once upon a time—' or 'Once there was—', charming lines that imply a fairy tale. Our story starts with a very sick, dying man."
Marcus carefully opened the leather-bound volume in his lap.
"This story takes us to the times of my ancestor, Fergus Carter."
"He was Middletown's founder," the girl, dressed as a werewolf, told the rest.
"Maggie don't interrupt, Mr. Carter," her mother told her.
"Sorry, Mum. Sorry, Mr. Carter," she apologized, in a cute little voice.
Marcus Carter cleared his throat and continued.
"Fergus Carter had fallen ill. In just two weeks, his weakness had bedridden him, and he almost did not eat. A lot of physicians were called upon from the nearest towns to heal him, but no one could diagnose his illness. Despite all the proper care, the good founder got worse.
"One morning, as the servants aired the room where Fergus lay asleep, one of them, an old maid with silver hair, whispered to the other, 'Mr. Carter will die...'"
A gasp escaped from the children's mouths.
"Patrick Harding was sitting on a chair at Fergus' side. He was one of the most heroic and handsome explorers and Fergus' companion of adventures.
"Patrick heard the woman's words and hurriedly went up, and sternly reprimanded the maid. 'How dare you! Don't you ever repeat that word, woman! Do you understand? Fergus will live; my friend will recover... We just need to find a physician who knows the cure for his illness, you hear?'"
"The poor woman gulped, and muttered under her breath, 'The matter is, sir, that Mr. Carter is not ill, he is under a spell.'"
Marcus Carter raised his head from the book, and explained to the group of children around him, "Those were times when people believed in magic and spells. The supernatural was considered part of everyday life. Magic, for them, was as logical and natural as the law of gravity."
"We know magic is not real, Mr. Carter. Please, continue the story," the werewolf girl begged.
Marcus Carter nodded, and looked down at the yellowish pages, "Where was I? Ah, yes... The old servant believed Fergus Carter was bewitched."
'Why do you say that, you old blabbermouth?' Patrick scolded her.
'I am an old lady, indeed, sir. I have lived many years, and I have seen a lot of strange things, and I have known a few men and women in this situation before, only one of them survived.'
'That means there is a chance of healing Fergus,' Patrick's eyes lit up with hope. 'Tell me how he did it, the one who escaped death.'
'There is only one way to reverse a curse, sir, you need to find a witch more powerful than the one who performed the original spell. Only a very seasoned witch can remove the hex. If that is not done, the bewitched dies.'
'Is there a sorcerer of such power in this land?' Patrick asked. 'I'll ride right into Satan's lair and drag her out if necessary.'
