“So let me get this straight. You expect me to believe you believe there’s some kind of…monster…out there in the woods, just because a kid said it in the newspaper?”

“Not just any kid. One of your kids.”

“Former kids. And I don’t see how that makes it any different.”

Marcellis shifted in his seat, still soaked and dripping from his dip in the lake. The overbearing A/C didn’t help his discomfort. What was this loser’s name again? He glanced at the nameplate on the front of the desk. Oh, yeah. Dave McAfee. The lettering on the plate was just as plain and flavorless as the man it referred to. He looked over at Angie, leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed. Her expression said it all: I told you so.

The camp director’s office, located in the back corner of the main lodge, was what one would expect. A single desk served as the focal point, constructed out of good old-fashioned oak, and populated with paperwork, pens, a wireless keyboard, and a dual monitor setup. A tiny printer held vigil atop a miniature file cabinet against a wall beneath the room’s sole window. Plaques and framed certificates singing Dave’s praises dotted the back wall, surrounding a whiteboard splattered in a rainbow of post-it notes. On the third wall, next to the ever-smug Angie, was a simple, old-school calendar with a photo of a mountain range and dates crossed out with a red marker. It reminded Marcellis of the ones his parents used to bring home from their local bank branch every year. The space was tidy and organized, everything in its place.

Including its idiot of an occupant. Marcellis studied Dave, leaning back in his executive chair like an emperor passing judgment over peasants. With his condescending sneer, air of superiority, and tall forehead, he could’ve passed for the broke-ass version of the Incredible Hulk villain The Leader—something Dave was never in danger of being mistaken for. His messy, swirly mass of brown hair was graying at his temples. Marcellis wondered if worrying about what was going on at the camp had caused it—or merely furthered it. “It makes a difference because you got rid of him to keep him from raising a stink.”

Dave leaned forward in his leather throne. “I did no such thing, Mr. Mitchum.”

“Mitchell.”

“Sure. I didn’t send Barry home to kill his story or whatever it is you’re accusing me of.”

“No, that’s pretty much it.”

Dave was about to speak when a mousy blonde, one of the counselors, walked in carrying a white beach towel. She presented it to Marcellis. “Here you go, sir.”

“Thank you.”

The girl smiled and took a few steps back…

Dave glowered. “He said thank you, Marissa. You may go.”

“Oh. Sorry.” The girl spun and scurried out.

Dave turned his attention to Marcellis. “I called Barry’s parents to let them know what happened and…suggested…that he might need to come home after his experience. We take the mental health of each of our campers very seriously.”

Marcellis dabbed himself with the towel. “I’m sure you do.” He sat forward, careful to keep his bundled jacket from falling out of his lap. “But what about their physical health?”

“Now you look here…” Dave cut his eyes to Angie.

Her expression warned him to tread lightly.

He took a breath and removed the bass from his voice. “I care deeply about each and every person under my charge here. I want nothing more than for them to have a fun, relaxing, rewarding time while on the premises. But it’s also my job to manage a successful business—and I can’t do that if there’s a panic going around because we put stock into some crazy, unsubstantiated rumor.” He whirled to the slim bookcase behind him and poured a cup of coffee from the expensive-looking machine that sat on top. It was sleeker and far newer than the industrial workhorse in the lobby—the one that, presumably, was for everyone else. “Besides…” He turned and paused for a sip before setting his mug on the corner of the desk. “Who are you anyway to come into my camp and speak to me like this? You aren’t wildlife, and we certainly know you’re not law enforcement.” His eyes grew wide. “Wait. I know who you are. You’re one of those guys with those bullshit monster hunter channels on YouTube, aren’t you? You’re out here trying to scratch up ‘content’ for your next video.” He smirked. “Well, keep looking, brother, ‘cause you’re not getting anything here.”

Ain’t that the truth. “Mr. McAfee—“

“Thank you for your help, Mr. Mitchell. I mean it. But if it’s all the same to you, we’ll take it from here.” He took another sip.

Marcellis glanced at Angie. She shrugged, arms still crossed. He went back to Dave. “So what about that thing in the lake?”

Dave leaned back. Smug. “What thing in the lake? I didn’t see anything.”

Marcellis chuckled—the kind one makes before flying across a desk and beating the dog piss out of someone. “So that’s how you’re gonna be, huh?” Despite the wet and cold, a heat welled within his core. It blasted into his arms and legs and raged in his skull. “You gonna act like Roger just made the whole thing up? The other kid, too? Well, they didn’t, and I know because the bastard just pulled me under and tried to drown me! So I guess I’m making things up, too, huh?” He caught himself, relaxed…

Unfurled a fist he hadn’t realized he’d made. He didn’t like getting angry, and he hated to lose his cool in front of others—he sounded too much like Daddy when he did—but some people simply excelled at flipping the right switches in just the right order.

Dave, the asshole, was a master.

The US government has a policy: never negotiate with terrorists. But Marcellis subscribed to a slightly different rule of thumb, this one coming straight from Mama’s lips—“Don’t waste your breath talking to idiots.” She was right again. Marcellis stood and tossed the towel at Dave.

He brushed past Angie on the way out.

The late-afternoon sun kissed Marcellis’s skin as he marched across the bustling camp, rolled up jacket tucked under his arm. Damp, soggy clothes clung to his strapping frame like groupies at a rock concert, but at least he was free from the icy clutches of the death machine blowing in Dave’s office. Thinking back, he probably should have kept the towel…

It was the least they could do for saving them from more bad press.

“Hey!”

Marcellis slowed and turned.

Angie jogged up, her face carved with confusion. “So what? You’re gonna leave? Just like that?”

“I had to get out of that man’s office before I did something that would have gotten me arrested. You saw that, right? The fool was nowhere to be found when one of his kids needed help, but now he’s gonna sit up there and tell me how much he cares about them? Cares my ass! No, in fact, I got something better for him. He can kiss my ass!”

“He’s just scared, Marc. He’s scared, and he’s trying to look tough.” She stepped closer. “Look, I know him. I’ve worked with the guy for three years. He can be a real jerk when he feels threatened, but he’s not a bad guy. He’s just hoping that if he keeps things quiet and keeps his head down, this whole thing will blow over.”

“Except it won’t blow over. Not anytime soon.” Marcellis looked around to make sure no one was listening. “If this thing has made this area its home,” he continued in a lower tone, “it’s going to see anything that comes near it as a threat. And this place? It’s overflowing with potential threats.”

“Which is why you can’t leave,” Angie said. “I don’t know what you can do to stop…whatever it is we’re dealing with—or if you even can. But you’re the only one who seems interested in trying, so…” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Please. Stay.”

Marcellis glared at the hand. Angie snatched it away.

He met her wary gaze. “First you want me to go. Now you want me to stay. Which is it?” he smiled.

Angie chuckled and shook her head.

“I’m not going anywhere until whatever was in that lake is dead and gone. Believe that. I’m just gonna have to do it on the low, since I don’t exactly have a mandate from your boss to be here.”

“Cool. I’m glad to hear that. So what’s the plan?”

“Excuse me?”

“The plan? Whatever it is, I want to help.”

“Absolutely not.” He stormed off.

Angie gave chase. “What do you mean? I work here, and the kids assigned to me are my responsibility. If something’s threatening them—or anyone else—I want to help stop it.”

Marcellis spun on her. “That’s just it. Those kids are under your care. If something happened to you, who’s got their back? Dave? I wouldn’t trust him to take care of my cactus.”

Angie scrunched her face. She tilted her head…

It had worked better in Marcellis’s brain. “The kids need you.”

“And you need backup.” She folded her arms and threw her weight to one hip. “You said it yourself. That thing got the drop on you back at the lake. You could have drowned.”

“That was because I was distracted. It won’t happen again.”

“Really? How can you be so sure?”

Marcellis smirked. “I’ll feel him coming.”

He left her standing with a quizzical look. “What is this, some kind of man thing?”

He kept going.

“There’s no reason you have to do this alone,” Angie added. “I can be useful. I’m pretty damn good at archery.”

“I don’t doubt that, but it’s too dangerous, and you have too much to lose. I don’t have anything at stake.”

“Except your life, right?”

Marcellis stalled. Stared back at the counselor. “Occupational hazard.” He continued on.

Angie tailed him. “C’mon, Marc, don’t be an ass. You need me!”

“Really?” He glanced over his shoulder. “How so?”

“For starters, I know these woods much better than you—enough to know that unless you parked your car in the creek, you’re going the wrong way.”

Marcellis froze. That couldn’t be right. They came this way when he ran in to save Roger, right? There was this big rock right over… He turned to where the landmark should have been...

Except it wasn’t.

“What if you get lost—or need advice on the quickest way to get back to the camp? I can do that for you so you won’t have to waste time figuring it out for yourself, which I imagine would come in pretty handy if you have some crazy monster on your ass.”

Okay, she’s got a point. But what about—

“And don’t worry about my job. I’ll make sure my face is seen when it needs to be. Any other time I’ll get one of the other counselors to cover for me, like I’m doing right now. Plus, I could be your inside girl—get you the scoop you can’t get yourself. How can you say no to that?”

He couldn’t. He raised his hands in defeat. “Fine.”

“Yes!”

“You can be my…consultant. But that’s it, okay? No trying to be a hero and putting yourself in harm’s way.”

“Of course.” She smiled, innocent and sweet.

Yeah. This was going to go off without a hitch. Marcellis unwrapped the Magnum and clipped the holster to his belt, then slipped his jacket on. The heat was far less oppressive with his shirt still damp. “Okay. This is what I need you to do. I want you to keep your ears open for any talk about what’s going on—rumors, stories—find out if anyone else has seen anything. And if you can, speak with Roger. See what he remembers about the attack. Anything—big or small—could be useful.”

Angie nodded. “Got it. How do I contact you if I find anything?”

Marcellis took out his phone and checked it. He’d seen the ads on TV bragging about the device being completely waterproof. Turns out they were right. He handed the phone to Angie. “I’m gonna do another sweep of the area, see if I can find our monster. We know it can handle itself on land and in water, but I’m not convinced the lake is its home. But to make sure, I need something from my truck.”

Angie keyed in her number and gave the phone back to Marcellis.

He stashed it in his pocket. “I’ll hit you tomorrow with whatever I find out. Until then, be careful.” He turned to leave. Paused. Looked back at Angie.

She pointed him in the right direction.

He dropped his head. “Thanks.”

Hopefully, this wasn’t a mistake.

The walk back gave Marcellis plenty of time to think. Maybe too much time. Had he been too soft—too quick to agree? Was letting Angie be a part of this really the best for the hunt? Daddy had impressed many things upon him during his training, but the concept of working smarter and not harder had become all but a mantra. And while yes, utilizing Angie’s knowledge in an unfamiliar environment definitely qualified as smarter, it also opened the door to risks Marcellis wasn’t comfortable with. Monster hunting worked best as a solitary pursuit. The fewer lives involved, the fewer lives at risk…

The fewer lives lost. However, Angie refused to give up, and if he’d insisted on shutting her out, there was no doubt she would have gone ahead and done her own thing, which would have only put her in more danger. So, in this case, keeping her close was the only way to keep her safe. He didn’t like it, but it was the best call. He had to give it to her, though; he liked her determination as well as her bravery.

She should have been the one running the camp instead of Dave’s bitch ass.

It took about fifteen minutes before Marcellis found his truck. He fished the keys from his pocket and disabled the alarm, then headed around to the driver’s side and opened the back door. A small metal lever with a red rubber tip sat at the base of the bench-style seat. Marcellis pushed it back with a bit of pressure, and the seat bounced as a latch released. He lifted it like a chest lid to reveal a hidden, customized compartment lined with maroon wool felt. The interior was molded for a quintet of items; an empty space marked where the Magnum and holster went. The others were occupied by a box of ammunition for the revolver, a black Remington 700 hunting rifle and its accompanying box of cartridges, a customized black leather shoulder harness, and his most prized possession…

A one-of-one battle axe. Commissioned by his great-great-great grandmother and passed down through generations, the grip area of her long, hardwood haft was wrapped in well-worn leather, ending with a pommel with a small, looped chain for hanging. Her opposite end boasted a spike, under which was etched the image of an African tribal mask. When asked about it, his father had explained that was the ceremonial mask of their ancestral tribe in Ghana. Marcellis was never solid on the accuracy of the tale, but he liked it nonetheless.

Now the axe belonged to him, inherited after his father’s death. She was his favorite hunting tool, sturdy, impeccably balanced, and razor-sharp—the bladed, hook-like poll just as deadly as the bearded bit. For obvious reasons, she rarely came out first. But for this hunt, her time had arrived. Marcellis smiled.

“Wake up, Lucille. Time to get to work.”

Next Chapter

Read from Chapter 1

What are your thoughts on this chapter—or the story as a whole? Leave your comments and feedback below!

Leave a comment

K.J.’S KORNER (Notes and Commentary)

• Chapter 6 drops December 8, 2025.

• This chapter frustrated the hell out of me, because I can’t believe how long it took me to rewrite it (and I’m certain it can stand another round or two to tighten things up). Yes, it’s the longest chapter to date, but I still feel some kind of way about it. I feel like I need to be faster, more productive. But it is what it is, I guess. I just have to learn to go with the flow.

• I wish there was more action in the chapter, but it’s a necessary cool down from the previous chapter, and a set up for what’s to come. Ready to find out what just what the hell it is that Marcellis is up against? You’ll finally get that answer—and more—in Chapter 6. 😎

THANK YOU FOR READING!

If you enjoy this story, please tell your friends, and feel free to leave your thoughts, comments, and questions below. You’re pretty much my unofficial beta readers as well, so if you spot something that needs fixing, or something just isn’t working for you, let me know. I don’t plan on posting chapters until I’m 100% satisfied with them, but that doesn’t mean I’ll catch everything.

Let’s see how big we can grow this thing. There’s so much more planned for the Darquelight Universe, and I can’t wait to share it with you!

- K.J. Knight

JOIN THE HUNT!

Keep up-to-date on the latest projects and happenings in the Darquelight Universe!