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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/adorabletapeworm on 2024-11-01 17:07:47+00:00.
The Dead Duo had a far worse time of it than we did. To put it simply, Victor had met us at the bonfire alone.
I'll get into what happened to Wes in a minute. Sorry to leave yinz in suspense, but this account of events is all second-hand. To spare us all some confusion, let me start at the beginning of their night.
(If you're not familiar with what Orion Pest Control's services are, it may help to start here.)
The first time that they'd heard the howls of the Cŵn Annwn, the otherworldly hounds had sounded far off. During their initial trek into the woods, the black birds continued to haunt their steps, chattering to each other as they shadowed the two undead men.
However, our coworkers didn't have this unwelcome entourage for long.
They didn't see the owl, at first. A crow screeched, then its cry was abruptly cut off. The other crows began to chatter in outrage.
Victor saw the owl soaring away with one of the Hunt's crows trapped firmly in its talons. It was the very same brown screech owl that had been watching us load up the barn with supplies. It had even brought friends, the ranks of which included other birds of prey that dove furiously at the Wild Hunt’s crows as if they had a vendetta against them.
Wes and him exchanged a look.
“Friends of yours?” Victor questioned, only half joking.
Wes shrugged, “I was going to ask you the same thing.”
Since the owl and its buddies were keeping the lesser Hunters off of their backs, Vic opted just to keep moving without questioning that odd experience further. They could find some way to thank the birds at a later date, preferably when they weren't about to be hunted for sport.
The Dead Duo didn't waste any time once they got to the barn, swiftly pulling out their supplies to start securing the doors. Salt lines were drawn across the thresholds of every entry point, including windows. I guess the boss hurt himself with it, in his haste. Wouldn't be the first time. Occupational hazard for a draugr.
During our initial preparations, one of the three extra hagstones had been hung from the rafters. It may sound like a questionable location for a stone, but the Hunters can fly, after all. Meanwhile, the Dead Duo kept the remaining two stones on them. They were as ready as they could be. At least, that’s what Victor had thought at the time.
Roughly an hour after they finished setting up, there was a round of hooting and hollering from the hounds. Victor knew in his gut that their chorus meant that the Hunters had found one of the ‘appetizers’ the mechanic had mentioned.
After the fact, we found out that both victims were registered sex offenders. Something I'd never thought about until Victor brought it up is that the registry provides full names. The boss explained that it’s a useful tool for the Hunters, chock full of the exact types of souls they prefer to torture the most. To quote Iolo, ‘The types no one’ll miss.’
Up until that point, the Dead Duo had been killing time with chitchat. But after the second ‘appetizer’ had been caught, all conversation died. Victor was on high alert, listening to every breeze, every creak of the trees, every murmur of the forest. Waiting. Meanwhile, Wes still seemed fairly excited as he kept glancing through the windows to see if anything was coming.
Occasionally, they'd hear the crows call as they passed the barn by. The owl attack had thrown the lessers off, buying the Dead Duo a good deal of time before shit hit the fan.
Another hour passed. They continued to wait. Wes had begun to pace from pent-up energy. They hadn't heard any hounds or crows for a while. Where were they? There was still time before sunrise.
There was a soft scuffing sound outside. Wes' pacing stopped, having heard it, too. There it was again, but higher off the ground.
The roof. Something was on the roof.
Victor didn't hesitate. He took aim and shot at whatever was climbing on top of the barn.
They heard laughter outside from multiple sources, followed by Briar's voice from above, mocking, “I've been trying to reach you about your car's extended warranty!”
Thorns began to slither along the top of the barn, their serpentine movements stopping abruptly as they neared the hagstone on the rafters. Putting it there was a good call. The vines were unable to pass it.
Victor fired again into the gathering of thorns, blasting some of them off.
They heard the mechanic's voice then, taunting Wes, “You gonna hide in there all night, boy?”
To Victor's chagrin, our coworker didn't hesitate to shout in reply, “Just you!”
His response was met with more laughter along with some Gaelic spoken amongst their pursuers. Not surprising that the merry band of jagoffs would take the challenge as a joke.
Victor glanced up to see that Briar was standing above the hole in the roof in all of his winged glory, head tilted curiously. The thorns writhed against the ceiling, testing the limits of the hagstone on the rafters.
“Don't go out there,” Victor warned.
Unfortunately, Wes wasn't listening, “If I meet you out there, I'm only dealing with you. Hear me, Dragonfly? No interference from anyone else. One-on-one. Just you.”
There was a moment of consideration before the mechanic replied casually, “Yeah, I got some time to kill. It'll be a while ‘til the White Son of Mist finishes up.”
That had instantly rang alarm bells in Victor's head. Finishes what? He'd worried that meant that the king of the Wild Hunt had turned his attention to someone else. Namely, Reyna, Cerri, or I.
Victor tried to warn his employee again. “Don't-”
“Oh, be quiet.” Briar cut him off dismissively, “He wanted this, didn't he?”
Without another word, Wes marched out to face the mechanic, salt-covered cutlass drawn.
The boss stepped forward to follow, but stopped once he heard more scuffling from above him. He turned to see that Briar now clung to the barn's ceiling by the hooks in his wings.
“You don't mess with the fight, neither will we.” The Hunter told him lightly. “All's fair, right?”
Was it, though? Was it really fair, Briar?
~~It's probably a good thing I wasn't there to piss the Hunters off more.~~
“Sure.” Victor snapped curtly. “This the thanks we get for helping you with the hag?”
Briar scoffed, “Come on, draugr. I know you don't like us, but you know us better than that! At least, you should, by now.”
The Hunter had found a spot on the rafters that was just outside of the hagstone's influence to perch on, thorn-covered antlers brushing the ceiling.
He continued, “We let you set up this little safe house without making a move to sabotage it. You really think we didn't know what you were up to? Hell, I'm even going the extra mile and taking the liberty to make sure that none of our guests get the idea to weasel their way in here. We're being far kinder to you than we have ever been to any others. And you didn't even notice. Have to say, it's kind of hurtful.”
Victor stole a line from Reyna: “Cope.”
When he told me that, I let out the ugliest snort. Clearly, the boss was done giving a shit. And he didn't have many of those left to begin with.
Briar just shook his head, “You Orion fuckers really have forgotten how to keep your attitudes in check, haven't you?”
Victor ignored that comment, “Won't your boss have some choice things to say about you helping me?”
Briar chuckled, “Who do you think is the one that okayed this?”
Okay. That's interesting. But one semi-good deed on the mechanic's part isn't much compared to his laundry list of war crimes.
Thankfully, none of the other Hunters appeared to have any interest in entering the barn now that Wes had come out. He was their primary target. Briar’s influence probably didn’t hurt either, as begrudging as I am to give him so much credit.
To Victor's horror, he then saw that Wes had left his hagstone hanging on a hook by the door. The reason for this was most likely that he wouldn't have been able to get close enough to the mechanic to try to stab him without the stone repelling him. Victor swore to rip him a new one for taking that risk later.
Keeping the shotgun trained on the thorned Hunter, Victor glanced out the window to see what was going on between his employee and our least favorite psychopomp. According to him, the pair were moving around each other so quickly that it was hard to keep track of them. He'd occasionally catch a glimpse of Iolo's wings or spikes glittering in the darkness, or the reflective Orion Pest Control logo on the back of Wes’ jacket.
“Your boy is doing better than I thought.” Briar commented, swinging one furry leg absent-mindedly. “I should've brought popcorn.”
“I am very selective about who I hire,” the boss informed him. “You think I'd bring on just anyone off the street? You should know me better, Briar.”
Briar sighed heavily, clearly not happy with Vic sassing him yet again, but conceded with a shrug of his shoulder, “Yeah. You got me there.”
That's when he heard the mechanic whoop from outside, “Hoo! Yup, that's salt!”
To Victor's disappointment, he sounded more surprised than hurt.
The dueling pair had slowed down a bit, circling each other in front of their audience of antlers, growling dogs, and black birds. The mechanic had his banjo strapped to his back, ready to use if he got bored of his wooden s...
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