The Old Man on the Road

It was a cold November night.

The kind of cold that would make frost giants cry.

On a forgotten country road stood an old man beside a battered 1957 Chevy truck. Most people would have called the truck rusted junk.

The old man called it a classic.

A pothole had just destroyed the left front tire, and the old man muttered under his breath as he crouched beside the wheel, pulling tools from the truck bed. His breath drifted into the air in pale clouds as he began loosening the lug nuts.

Then the growl came from the woods.

The old man froze.

That sound was wrong. Not the sound of any natural creature.

He had heard it before.

A giggle followed. Then a quiet snicker from deeper in the shadows.

Four shapes stepped out from the treeline.

The first was a massive black wolf, thick with muscle and hunger. The old man studied it carefully, trying to decide if it was a shapeshifter or a werewolf.

Either one was trouble.

Behind it stood a young girl who looked no older than seventeen or eighteen.

But the eyes told the truth.

Eyes never lied.

Those eyes had seen centuries.

Next stepped forward a woman whose beauty seemed almost painful to look at. Perfect features, flawless skin, and a smile that promised pleasure and ruin in equal measure.

A succubus.

Finally, the last figure emerged.

A vampire.

He looked as though he had been frozen in a decade where blue mohawks and leather jackets covered in spikes were considered impressive. He carried himself with the easy arrogance of something that had forgotten what fear felt like.

The four creatures studied the old man.

The succubus looked him over slowly, as if examining a particularly interesting meal.

The vampire appeared unimpressed.

The witch giggled softly to herself.

The wolf stared with open hunger.

The old man studied them as well.

The wolf.

The ancient girl hiding behind a teenager’s face.

The succubus whose beauty had been sharpened into a weapon.

And the vampire with the ridiculous blue mohawk and spiked jacket.

They waited for fear.

For panic.

For pleading.

Instead, the old man did something one should never do when facing creatures like them.

He snickered.

Then he turned his back on them and calmly went back to changing his tire.

The quiet clink of metal tools against the lug nuts echoed down the empty road.

For several seconds the monsters simply stood there, unsure whether they had just been insulted or dismissed.

The witch stepped forward.

She pulled a worn book from her backpack and opened it carefully. Ancient words spilled from the pages as she began chanting softly. The language was old—older than most living things remembered.

The old man listened.

Once, long ago, he had known those words.

For a moment he had forgotten them.

Then he remembered.

The spell formed in the air, twisting and curling toward him like smoke.

And then it failed.

Nothing happened.

The witch blinked in confusion.

She glanced back toward the vampire.

The old man noticed the look between them.

So they were together.

The vampire slowly turned his head toward the wolf and gave a small nod.

The old man heard the creature moving behind him before he even turned.

The wolf burst from the darkness, launching through the air with fangs and claws ready to tear flesh.

The old man moved only one hand.

He caught the creature in midair.

For a brief moment the wolf hung there, suspended between violence and disbelief.

Then there was a sharp snap.

The old man dropped the body onto the cold road.

Three figures remained.

The vampire’s expression changed slightly.

He nodded again, this time toward the succubus.

She stepped forward slowly, hips swaying with deliberate grace. Her shirt slipped lower as she approached, revealing skin that seemed to glow beneath the pale moonlight. Every movement was designed to disarm.

She reached him and leaned in close.

Her lips touched his.

The succubus drew deeply, ready to pull the life from his soul.

Instead she felt something else.

Pain.

Her eyes widened.

A moment later she collapsed into drifting smoke and ash.

Now only two remained.

The vampire seized the witch’s wrist and pulled her backward.

With a single powerful leap he vanished into the darkness, carrying her with him.

The old man watched them disappear.

Then he calmly returned to the truck and finished changing the tire.

Hours later.

At the edge of a forgotten town stood a bar.

It was not a place meant for humans.

Inside, the air was thick with old magic and older blood. Creatures from dark corners of the world filled the dim room.

Sebastian the vampire and Marlina the witch sat at a small table, pale and shaken as they retold the nightmare they had encountered on the lonely road.

Some creatures believed them.

Others assumed the story had grown larger in the telling.

Then the front door exploded inward.

The room fell silent.

The old man stepped inside.

The bartender—a vampire who had lived for thousands of years—recognized him immediately.

So did several others.

Panic rippled through the room.

Creatures scrambled for doors, windows, and shadows.

It did not matter.

Within minutes the bar was silent again.

Bodies covered the floor.

Only Sebastian and Marlina remained alive, frozen in terror at their table.

The old man walked slowly toward them.

He stopped in front of Sebastian and stared into the vampire’s eyes.

The blame hung in the air between them like a sentence already passed.

After a moment, the old man snickered, then turned and walked back out into the cold night.

The door swung slowly shut behind him.

For a long moment neither Sebastian nor Marlina moved.

Then Marlina’s backpack shifted slightly beside her chair.

Her spellbook slid free and fell to the floor.

The pages began to turn on their own.

Slowly at first.

Then faster.

Page after page fluttered as if caught in an unseen wind.

Finally the book stopped.

It had opened to a page Marlina had never seen before.

The parchment was blank.

For several seconds nothing happened.

Then, slowly, dark letters began to bleed into the page as if written by an invisible hand.

Two words appeared.

John Merlin.

Across the room, several ancient creatures quietly slipped out the back door.