Supernatural Fiction posted March 1, 2015 Chapters:  ...11 12 -13- 14... 

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The Berwick Witches Series: Book One

A chapter in the book Dark Covenant

Dancing With Wolves

by amahra

The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.
The author has placed a warning on this post for language.

New Berwick, Illinois--a mystic place where witches rule under the watchful eyes of the Dominions.
(Recap of chapter 12)

A civil war between the wolf packs was thwarted when realized that such a war could expose them as werewolves and bring the wrath of the Shadow Hunters. Jewel hopes to have the moon cure in time for the next full moon. Also, Sheriff Tilbert, and his hundred deputies, plan a full moon ambush on an unsuspecting group of werewolves (hopefully, while they're helplessly chained down) and kill them all.

As Sheriff Wayne Tilbert prepared for the night raid, Bob Wilson was beside himself. Bob circled the floor nervously while Wayne sat on the corner of his desk cleaning his rifle.

"Wayne, for the last time ... this is a foolish move."

"We've been over this," Wayne said quietly, putting a spit shine on the barrel of his semi-automatic.

"For the love of God, man; these are not men, they're beasts. You're going to get your deputies killed."

"Will you relax? You've seen me with this baby," he said, patting his gun. "I can hit a deer right between the eyes at a hundred yards."

"Yeah, but that deer's not coming at you thirty-five miles an hour to rip your brains out of your head."

"Look, there'll be at least a hundred of us with shotguns and rifles. Stay here if you're scared."

"Scared? Is that what you think? Wayne, this is not about my being scared. It's about you committing suicide and getting those poor men with families ripped apart  and ..."

Wayne slammed the rifle down on the desk.  "What the hell do you want me to do, Bob? We tried it your way. We spent months looking for those damn Shadow Hunters and got nowhere. We had to bury that sweet young girl with no limbs and no head; her parents are still grieving out of their freaking minds; the whole town is in a panic. We are going to bring closure to that family's suffering tonight," he said banging his fist on the edge of his desk. "Now, I don't want to hear any more about it!"

"All right, Wayne," Bob said in a hushed voice. He lowered his eyes to the floor and gently bit his bottom lip.

Back at Greyscott Falls, Jewel and Beatrice could not complete the spell in time. They would have needed, at least, another week. So, it was left up to the women to protect their men. They found an old mine shaft and double bound the men with chains—carefully sealing the opening of the mine to silence the howling. The hardest part for the women was leaving their young boys whimpering and shaking with fear—having to experience the gut-wrenching pains of shape shifting for the very first time.


The full moon lit up the night sky; the glare of it made Wayne's one hundred or so gunmen a bit weary. The fog was thick and fast like moving clouds as a long train of vehicles eased through it. The lower heaven seemed to tremble under the bright sparkle of the moon.  As if it knew the evil that it harbored.

Wayne had rejected the idea of asking a judge for a warrant to search their premises because his reasons would have been laughable. There had been too many fake werewolf sightings over the years to convince any Sheerfield City judge to take Bob's theory seriously. Wayne and his deputies couldn't go gang-busting into their houses. But he did have a plan. They would simply plant themselves throughout the wooded area and wait. If they encountered the beasts, they'd have enough fire power to take them down.

As they crossed into Greyscott Falls, the headlights went off, and the motors were cut as not to advertise their presence. They would make the rest of the journey on foot. Wayne eased out of his truck and waved signals to his men to take their positions. The thick forest separated the road from the packs' residential area. It was where parts of Tiara Winters were found among the leaves. Owl hoots and small night creatures spooked the men; gleaming eyes of small predators competed with the flashlights held by the men as they crept through the infamous Norwick Forest. They responded to each other's birdcalls that pin-pointed their stations. Wayne became frustrated when he noticed unwarranted movement within the shadows. It was Ben, one of his deputies, moving quietly but fast out of his position.

"Ben, where the hell you think you're going? Get your ass back to your station," he commanded.

"My flashlight went dead. I got batteries in the truck."

Wayne watched Ben's dark figure disappear.

Minutes ticked by.

"I don't think these wolves are anywhere near here. I think they're hiding somewhere. But where?" Dwayne asked rhetorically. "We're going to have to move deeper into the woods if we want to find them."

"I know.  As soon as Ben comes back.  I don't want to leave him behind."

Wayne kept watch over his shoulder, waiting for Ben to return. Suddenly shots rang out. Everyone's head jerked around at the same time.

"Who was that?" someone called out.

"It came from over there where we parked."

"Ben, you all right?" Wayne shouted. "Ben?" He yelled again.

"I'll go check it out," one of the deputies said.

"I'll go with him," said another.

Wayne and the others waited crouched down in the dark—a menacing moon lurked overhead, and thick fog covered them like a grey smelly blanket. Some of the men nearby got edgy, and Wayne softly called for them to stay calm.

"I don't like this," Pete whispered.

Wayne breathed hard. "We'll give them a few more minutes."

Finally, when Ben and the two deputies didn't return, Pete and Dwayne volunteered to join Wayne in looking for them. They eased through the woods, cringing at every step. The little bit of light that filtered in through the thickness of the tall trees illuminated the smooth metal of the rifles and even the buckles on their boots. Every rustling sound of a bush or tree caused their heads to snap around and their bodies to jump. After several minutes of walking, Pete stopped abruptly.

"Wait!" Pete ordered.

"Wait, what?"

"We're too far up. We parked back there," he said.

"What do you mean back there? They're up ahead," Dwayne insisted.

"No. I'm telling you, we passed it. I remember that tower," he said pointing back at it.

All looked back at the tower and began walking towards it. They stopped, and Wayne looked around, his face studying the situation. "Jesus, God, he's right," Wayne said. "This IS where we parked."

"Then where the hell are our vehicles?"

"There're gone," Pete said, turning in a circle.

"We can see that, genius," Dwayne snapped.

"Who the hell took twenty cars, vans and trucks without us hearing it?"

"Someone or something strong enough to move them, that's what."

The men eyed the empty spot where the vehicles had been. They glanced around at nothing, shaking their heads. An overwhelming urge to run was written on Pete's and Dwayne's faces. Only their macho bragging rights prevented them from scrambling like little pussies.

"There's no sense looking for them in this fog," Wayne said.

"What about our vehicles?"

"No sense looking for them neither. We better head back," Wayne ordered. "Whoever took our rides, could be watching us right now."

"Right—there's safety in numbers," Pete said, peering nervously over his shoulder.

Back with the group, Wayne broke the bad news.

"What the hell are we supposed to do way out here in the dark without a way back?" one of the men blurted.

"Someone could be trying to scare us."

"Well, it's working on me," one deputy said.

"Me too," several other men chanted, separately.

"Oh come on—you sound like a bunch of girl scouts," Pete said. "As soon as day breaks, we'll find the men and our rides and get the hell out of here. But right now, we must focus on what we came to do."

"Pete's right," Wayne said. "We'll just camp out here. Keep your eyes open and your guns sharp. There's a lot of little night creatures roaming about, so don't go shooting at the first thing that moves."

The men agreed and took their places among the bushes and trees.

Dark clouds moved across the face of the moon—the fog thickened and rose several more inches. Some of the men's eyes grew heavy, and they drifted off to sleep. Others took little cat naps, hugging their rifles to their chest.

As the long hand of the clock moved beyond twelve midnight, a haunting presence swept through the trees. An odd scent, distant snarls and outlines of strange figures formed in the shadows. An image long and oppressive disturbed a bush. Then an eerie silence fell upon the night. Panic settled among the men when some didn't return their night calls. Sleeping men's eyes flashed open—hands tightened on rifles. A large owl, like a warning, hooted loudly; it bolted from a branch—wings spread across the sky, and then disappeared into the dark.

Pete appeared to sense that something was wrong.  He peered around nervously like he was being watched.  He pulled his rifle in close to his body and upward. His eyes dotted back and forth then up; he gulped a lump of air when his eyes fell upon a monstrous silhouette high up in a tree. Its yellow eyes blazed back at him. Pete lifted his fire arm and aimed for the widest part of it. Without the aid of light, the scoop was useless for a head shot. He squeezed—the shot rang out over the fog; its beastly breath let out a scream that cut through the night like a wounded hound from hell. Being injured didn't stop it from swooping down upon Pete. Though it had the strength of ten men, Pete fought ferociously for his life—enduring fatal bite after fatal bite—blood squirting from his face and neck until the beast struck a stentorian blow that tore Pete's head clear from his body.

Pete's head bounced off a tree and rolled unnoticed into the fog near a deputy's foot. The deputy tripped over it and missed a shot to a dark figure rocketing towards him. Its fangs tore into the deputy, nearly ripping his face off before he could even scream. A gun shot blast struck it in the shoulder when it was spotted with the deputy's lifeless body still hanging from its mouth.

"Over there! Over there!"

Hundreds of gun blasts arrowed in its direction. Panic struck throughout the darkness with loud growls like roars of thunder.

"Over here! Over here!"

"How many are there?"

"I don't know! Just fucking shoot!"

More body parts sailed through the air. Piercing death screams—gunfire from every direction, several men dropped—many scrambled to find solid cover—behind trees, large rocks, under fallen comrades. Wayne's calls for order were ignored as he was knocked to the ground and trampled by fleeing men.

"Wayne! Pete! Where are you?" Dwayne screeched.

"Save yourself! Get to the road! I'll be right behind you!" Wayne shouted.

But Wayne had lied. He wasn't just trampled underfoot he was shot and coughing up blood. He tried to keep his head above the fog although the cool moist kept his mind clear. He flopped down on his belly. His wounded body mimicked his early Marine basic training—crawling under wire—in the mud, under fire; he gritted his teeth and pulled himself as hard as he could over the gravel and in the direction he'd seen all the shadows of his men go. Gunshots peppered the sky and footsteps thundered past his face—heavy boots striking him as he desperately tried to crawl his way out of the forest and into the clear.

Looking half dazed, he seemed to be moving much too fast to be sliding on his belly. Two shadows appeared on either side of Wayne; each had an arm and was pulling him through the fog, over bumps in the path: perhaps rocks, perhaps his dead deputies, maybe Ben. Blood poured from his chest wound. Wayne's head bobbed back and forth; then it went down for the last time and he was out cold.

His arms were released, and Wayne fell limp on his face. The coolness of the ground caused his eyelids to flutter. He slowly turned over on his back and gritted his teeth when a bolt of pain flashed in his chest. He looked up into the faces of two women he'd never seen before. They were covered in black hooded cloaks and were staring down at him with little or no expression.

"Who are you?" Wayne asked in a husky voice.

"You're safe, now. There'll be no more trouble as long as you all stay put until morning."

"We can't...can't"... Wayne coughed, and blood dripped from his lips.

"He's trying to tell you some assholes stole our vehicles," Dwayne said. He bent down and supported Wayne's head with his hand.

The women stood majestically, said an incantation and waved their hands in a circle three times. There was a loud gasp from the crowd of men when their cars, trucks and vans suddenly appeared. When Dwayne looked back at the women, they were gone.

"Witches! I knew it! They're the ones who did this," someone shouted.

"Yeah, let's get 'em!"

"No!" Wayne said faintly. "If they'd wanted to hurt us, they would have."

"I still think we should go after them!"

"Seriously, Joe?"  Dwayne smirked. "You really want to tangle with creatures that can wave their arms and twenty vehicles appear out of nowhere?"

Joe's chest deflated, and he looked down at his feet like a pondering fool.

The men stood gazing at their rides like they were trying to process what they'd just witnessed. They buzzed among themselves for a few moments and then dispersed, settling into their cars and waiting for morning.

The witches were right; whatever attacked them didn't return. And whatever magic they'd performed also worked on Wayne. He had stopped coughing up blood, and the hole in his chest had closed. All that remained of his injury were his blood-soaked shirt and crusty blood stains on his chin and mouth.

The daylight brought grown men to tears having seen the horrible way their fellow officers met their end. As they walked around, they saw blood-covered twisted bodies—heads with wide eyes staring up at them, and guts, brains and limbs hung from tree branches. Broken rifles and hundreds of shell casings sparkled among the stones on the ground.

"Wayne, over here." Dwayne called. With his eyes glassy, he stood over Pete's headless body.

Wayne took his time, stopped and sighed. "He just had a new baby. How the hell am I going to tell his wife this?"

"I gotta find his head." Dwayne's lips trembled.

"I think it's there—over there," Wayne said, pointing.

Dwayne walked a ways; he brought it back and placed it beside the body. Then Dwayne's eyes widened. Pete's hand was gripping something. He could see a part of it showing through his fingers. He pried his hand open and took it. It looked to be a piece of an animal's ear—black and silver fur. He brought it up to his nose and sniffed. Forcing back the tears, he smiled at Pete's last ditch effort to leave a clue. "A cop to the bitter end," Dwayne said, his voice cracking.

Wayne stood and pulled his phone from his waist and dialed. Bob's phone rang and he answered. "Bob, I'm bringing a sample over for you to analyze....No. I'm fine. I don't want to get into any details right now. Just wanted to be sure you'd be in the lab....Ah...about an hour....Okay. Right. Right. See you then."



New Berwick, Illinois is comprised of four regions: Falcon Haven, Northern and Southern Greyscott Falls, Sheerfield City and Ironforge.

Main Characters

Northern Greyscott Falls:

River Porter....... Main Character
Jewel Porter....... River's wife
Their daughters....Chelsea, Abby, Dria, and Becca

Southern Greyscott Falls:

Dex Porter.........River's brother
Matthew (Matt) Porter... Dex's son
Jan Porter ....Dex's wife and Jewel's cousin/sister-in-law

Falcon Haven:

Beatrice ....... Jewel's best friend
Kayla Morrison.. Beatrice's granddaughter

Sheerfield City:

Wayne Tilbert....... Sheriff of Sheerfield City
Rose Tilbert....... Wayne's wife
Veronica (Ronnie) Tilbert...Wayne daughter/Kayla's BFF
Christopher (Chris) Tilbert.........Wayne and Rose's son
Christa......................Veronica and Kayla's BFF
Bob Wilson..................Sheerfield City Coroner


Corina Brewer...............Sorcerer
Hollie Brewer...............Corina's sister/Sorcerer
Gunner Lenox................Sorcerer
Amber Moore.................Sorcerer

Supporting Cast

New Berwick residents

Art Work: Her Eyes by Diane Azdamar at
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