“Ah,” Davis said, coming around the corner and face to face with the creature standing there. “I see that youre busy, dont let me interrupt you.”
The creature was about nine feet tall, taller if you counted the weird antler-ish branches that sprouted from its head. A pair of snow-white eyes glared at the analyst as it held one of the locals in its right hand. What was left of him, at least. It stood, hunched almost on two long goat-like legs. A coat of fur, matted with mud and blood and other unidentifiable substances covered it. But what interested Davis more than anything was the sort of cloak it wore. It wasnt a natural covering, it looked as if the creature had taken fur from some other animal and crafted a cloak out of it. It came over its head and over where a forehead would be, with holes for all the antler things. From Davis’ angle, its face was shrouded in shadow, with only the white eyes visible.
Davis took a moment and surveyed the area he had accidentally stumbled upon. Blood was smeared all over the quiet road and the farmers vehicle was turned over on its roof nearby. As he watched, he saw more of those creatures, smaller ones, creep in and out of the tree line on either side of the road. Watching both him and the larger creature with heightened anticipation. They had smelled the blood, clearly, and they had come for the leftovers. Which meant Davis if he didnt act fast.
“They aint scared by a lot,” a voice said behind him, and the sound of a large rifle being cocked echoed down the small road. “Aint much that can hurt them neither, but ole Betsy here keeps them back when they come too close to my herd.”
Davis turned and saw the grimy face of the groundskeeper of the manor he and Hitch were staying in. Without taking his eyes off the creature in the road ahead, he motioned Davis to get behind him. The rifle, a dual barrelled elephant gun that usually hung above a large fireplace was trained on the big one, but as Davis moved, the groundskeepers eyes flicked over each of the smaller ones in turn.
“Theyre pack hunters?” Davis asked, his notebook in hand.
“Nah,” the groundskeeper said. “Not solitary neither. I dont think they truly hunt, not like the wolves do. They almost scavenge their food.”
Davis scribbled all this down. “We’ve never seen things like this before.”
“Aye, lad,” the groundskeeper said. “Your land is too new, too fresh for things like this to grow. This here is a troll of some kind. Never mind about that, now, though. If we let the sun set while were still here, the lot of them will have us. My buggy is just back there a wee ways, get in, get the girl started and Ill join you.”
“Im moving now,” Davis said, replacing the notebook in his pocket. He swivelled his head to get the location of the buggy before turning back to watch the old man. He hadnt moved, but the smaller creatures were definitely getting closer. They were out of the trees now, heading down towards the road and the larger one. “How do you deal with trolls?” he asked as he walked backwards into the front end of the buggy.
“You dont,” the groundskeeper said, training the rifle on the face of the large one. “Every now and then one will turn up dead and the rest will disappear for a while, but aint nothing we can do.”
“Something else kills them?”
“Something,” the groundskeeper confirmed. “Hurry up, lad. They may not be pack hunters, but they do know how to work together. Get that thing going, or were next.”
Davis spun around and reached for the door of the vehicle. He had remembered seeing the old man drive around in this when he and Hitch had first arrived here, felt like forever ago now, and wanted nothing more than to go for a drive himself. Now that he had the chance, he was beginning to regret more and more of his choices in life.
The vehicle was more or less a golf cart without the roof structure. It could seat four, but currently the rear seating was taken up with equipment and other bits and pieces the groundskeeper needed to do his job. Davis clambered in and over to the drivers seat. Turning the key clockwise, he thought the car would make some sort of noise or give some indication that something had happened, but it just sat there, as silent as before.
“Well, lad?” the groundskeeper shouted, taking some large steps backwards. All of the trolls were on the road now, the smaller ones a small distance behind the large one, but they all had their eyes on the two men. The large one had dropped what was left of the farmer and took a step forward towards the groundskeeper.
“Its not doing anything,” Davis shouted.
“Just turn the key, flick the switch on the floor to R and tell me when youre ready!”
Davis looked around for the switch he mentioned. In the middle of the floor, where, in a normal car the handbrake and gear shifter would be, was a simple switch. On the left it said D, in the middle it said N and on the right it said R.
“Well, thats silly,” Davis muttered and flicked it to R. The buggy started rolling backwards immediately. “Its going!” he shouted to the other man.
“Finally,” the groundskeeper shouted and fired his rifle directly at the large troll which was slowly lumbering towards him.
At the sound of the shot, all the small creatures flinched and scooted backwards a few feet, while the large one was hit square in the face, its head rocking back on its neck and the cloak it wore falling off onto the road.
The groundskeeper shouldered his rifle, turned and made a limping run back to the vehicle, climbing in the passenger side.
“Go go go,” he insisted as he slammed the door shut, and levelled the rifle at the troll again. “I only got one more round, so if we do not get the fuck out of here, we cannot hold our own.”
Davis nodded and took his foot off the brake and slammed it on the accelerator. The buggy slowly started to roll backwards, but with each second, it got faster and faster. Davis steered, looking over his shoulder. Nearly 100 yards away was the intersection, the main road. If he could get them both to that, flick the buggy around and back into drive, he could get them back to the manor and to safety. Probably.
The larger troll was righting itself. It reached down and picked its cloak up, replacing it on its head. Then it narrowed its eyes and roared an impossibly loud sound. Each of the smaller creatures echoed this sound and all around them, the reverberating sounds of their roars filled their ears.
The larger creature started to run at the buggy which was now moving faster than Davis would have liked, but it would only be for a few more seconds; the intersection was fast approaching.
“Fuck,” the groundskeeper said, checking how far they were from the main road. “We wont make it.”
“Well make it!” Davis shouted.
“We wont!” the groundskeeper shouted back and fired off the second round in the rifle at the charging troll.
As before, the smaller creatures all flinched and stopped running with the larger one. Unlike the last time, the large troll took the shot and kept charging. The shot had been good, though, and the groundskeeper had got it square in the face again. While it was still charging at them, it had been nudged just slightly off course. It was no longer charging straight at them. It realised this pretty quickly as it ran off into the mud and tripped over, landing on its face.
Sensing weakness from the large troll, two of the nearer smaller ones dived on it, ripping its cloak off before fighting each other for it. One by one, each of the smaller trolls joined in on this tussle as the larger one picked itself back up and roared again.
This time, though, the roar was targeted at the smaller trolls. As Davis and the groundskeeper reached the intersection and the buggy flicked around and faced down the main road towards the manor, the larger troll was leaping into the fight between the smaller ones to get its cloak back.
Both men let out a long sigh of relief and Davis flicked the switch over to D and they were on their way back to safety.
“A troll?” Hitch said. Her voice was heavily accented now. Being her was both good and bad for her. She was no longer dying, but her life was not the way it had been. She was tied to her trolley, parked in the middle of the sitting room. Their host, the Count, sat on the sofa and watched her with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. He had said nothing since Davis and the groundskeeper had arrived and recounted their story.
“A big one,” Davis nodded. “It had some sort of hand made cloak that it wore. The smaller ones seemed to see it as a status symbol. They wanted it and the big one wanted it back.”
“The big one is known to me,” the Count said slowly. His accent was similar to Hitch’s, but there was something about it that made Davis’s hair stand on end. “It is intolerable to me that it came this close to the manor and took one of my people.”
“Almost two,” Hitch said. “And one of mine.”
“Im not yours,” Davis said automatically.
“Yet,” she said, licking her lips.
“You should dispose of her,” the Count said. “She does not belong.”
“I will heal her,” Davis said.
“You wont, I am not sure how many more times you need to be told.”
“I know what you say, but we also brought you news about other vampires you didnt know. Forgive us if we dont just assume you know everything.”
“And if your Viola would allow me access to your research-” he started.
“You heard her yourself. But this isnt about that. The trolls,” Davis said, prompting the Count.
“Yes, the trolls. They live in the mountains. They are fine in the mountains. The chill keeps their population low. They have predators down here. Or they should have. They should not be breeding down here.”
“There is something in the mountains, perhaps?” Hitch asked, straining at her bindings.
“There are a lot of things in the mountains,” the Count said.
“Something that could precipitate something like this?”
“Not unless a spring melt has uncovered something older than me,” the Count said thoughtfully.
“Let me guess,” Davis said, sighing. “Its a distinct possibility?”
The Count did not smile his usual smile. “Something that can force trolls down into my territory?” he asked. “Is not something to make jokes about, my dear analyst.”