"So, give me a reason not to put you guys down right here and now." I speak, revolver now pointing towards Hansel, a blood-curdling half wolf now hunched over on all fours, snarling. "Don't test my patience Gretel."
Gretel sighs in defeat, exhaustion in her voice as she explains. "If you have any plans of getting out of the Murk, you're going to need our help." She reaches for a small knife in her pocket, making me and Darren tense up. Her eyes meet ours, waiting for our permission for her to continue. Darren looks at me and I nod, nudging her to proceed. She cuts herself, blood now dripping from her wrists. It clumps up and forms into a key, solidifying on top of her palm. "You're going to need this."
"A key? The place is open everywhere, what are we gonna need the key for?" Darren asks, confused.
"None of this is real, Darren." She answers, the key now seeping back into her skin as the wound disappears, leaving no trace of its existence. "The nightmares that you see outside, none of them are real. They are merely fragments of our collective cognition on what fear is, fueled by the fears of the people on the surface."
I don't lower my weapon as my mind is attacked by questions, seeking answers that seemed so hard to comprehend. "So everything we see right now is an illusion?"
"Not quite." She points towards the mist outside, the fluttering wings of the Fowl can still be heard in the distance, made invisible by the mist. "Though it is not our physical bodies that were transferred here, our minds are still connected to the plane of existence."
"Slow down, what does any of that even mean?" Darren asks, his grip on the rifle now softening as it makes its way towards his hip.
"It basically means that if we die here, we die in the real world." I speak, now lowering my revolver as well.
Gretel nods, agreeing with my statement. "That is correct." She caresses Hansel's head as he lets out a small whimper, the fur on his skin now retracting inwards. "We need your help to stop them, Michael Graves." She tosses a locket towards me, the sigil of the Office engraved on its casing. "We need your help to stop the coven."
"Why do you have this?" The locket given to each Watchman, in the possession of the monsters that they were destined to hunt. The irony of two sides, converging into one single point. "Don't tell me…"
"Our father was a Watchman, just like you Michael." Her voice wanes, a lingering pain evident beneath it. "Although he was exiled for loving a witch, he always taught us that not all of us were destined to be evil." She pauses for a moment, collecting her thoughts. "Mother didn't like it, only agreeing to be with father to create us, Hybrids. The blood of a Watchman, blessed by the Heavenly Tree of Eden, combined with the blood of the Cursed."
"Halflings." My mind travels back to the reports of incidents involving a defecting member of the Office fornicating with creatures of the dark. Halflings, capable of bringing forth the end of the world when uncontrolled, were at the top of the hunting list, along with their brethren.
"Yes, that is what we are." Gretel grabs the shotgun placed on the table and nudges for me to follow her as she makes her way to the back of the room. "Follow me." She opens the door behind the front desk, leading to a storage area littered with thousands of files now spread across the floor. "Help me move this."
I go up to help her push the cabinet to the side, revealing a small trapdoor. She hops in and I follow, hand still clutching the handle of my revolver, one finger on the trigger. "Where are we heading?" A small hanging lamp comes to life, illuminating the small room, containing dozens of boxes that were sealed with tapes.
"Silver bullets, rifles, and anything that you might need for the hunt." She props one small ammunition box on the small table placed in the middle of the room, a cloud of dust appears as she does so. ".45 ACP, silver-plated." Her hand reaches in and drops a handful of bullets in front of me, the small metallic objects clink as they roll over one another. "Blessed."
"Do you have any info on the creatures out there?" I ask as I load the bullets into my clip, fitting perfectly as I shove more into the pockets of my coat.
"There are seven kinds of Puppets, with only four that I have seen, as far as I know." She states, now loading shells into her shotgun. "First is the one we saw just recently, which are the Fowls, manifested from the fear of birds and human limbs, thus the monstrosity that lurks outside. Second are the Newborns, made from the tormented souls of unborn children, forced to meet Death at an early age."
She pauses, now lifting her red dress over her head, revealing her toned body as she nonchalantly puts on a more comfortable outfit. Her eyes meet mine and she smirks as she watches me look away, now getting herself into leather pants. "The third are the Howlers, unseen entities that act like radios and sirens, capable of driving anyone who listens to it speak insane if they listen for too long. The last one that I know of are the Lurkers, hidden somewhere underneath the waters that surround the town. I know of nothing else."
The fifth would be the Arachnids. "So how do we kill them?" My question comes of a lot more childish than intended, making me sound like a child. She simply smiles, no standing up straight as she places a map on the table.
"You can't, as long as their necromancer lives." She unrolls the parchment as she looks at me, her gaze piercing. "You kill the witch, or else they keep coming back. You've killed Rheya, haven't you? That means you know that those things keep coming back until you get rid of the Mother."
"I assume you have a plan then? One that doesn't involve coming across any of them?" I holster the revolver as I watch the map she placed on the table, a rough sketch that resembles the entire town.
She shakes her head, pointing towards the middle. "If anything, we need to get to the heart of the coven if we want to get out of here." I falter from her words, the plan of going north now seemingly a death sentence. Anthony. "I know where you have to go Michael, which is why we'll accompany you. He is alive, for now." She now makes her way to the foot of the ladder, waiting for me to follow. "I suggest you hurry up."