The Arcane [#BattleTheBeast Contest]

The Arcane

"I've got the wine." Quentin shrugged off his coat, tossing it onto a bench in the entryway and taking a quick survey of the small cabin. It was somewhat cramped, furnished in a rustic style that fit with the general out-of-the-way nature of the place.

"Just put it on the table," called Julia from the kitchen. "You're the first one here."

Quentin set the bottle on a table that appeared to be hewn from a single piece of tree and made his way to where Julia stood at the counter chopping an onion.

"Nice place," he remarked drily, studying the moose head looming over the crackling flames in the fireplace, its glass eyes aglow. It was comically too large for the room. "You didn't mention we'd have a friend here to meet us."

Julia shrugged. "It's all I could find this weekend. I thought we could all use a break."

"Isn't there a spell that could do that for you?" asked Quentin, watching Julia hack at the onion.

"It's never a bad idea to practice knife skills."

"What, expecting trouble?" he grinned.

Julia's gaze dropped to his mouth, her lips twisting in a wicked smile. "Should I be?"

"Definitely," he replied, pulling her into a kiss. "And there's more trouble where that came from. Need help?"

Julia smirked. "I don't think they deliver pizza out this way. I'm almost done, anyway."

The knife slipped and Julia hissed as the blade sliced into her index finger. She slapped a towel over the top, staunching the flow of blood.

"So much for skills—"

"Shut up."

"Let me—"

"I can take care of it, Q."

Somewhere outside a light snapped on, suffusing the previously soothing dim of the cabin with a harsh yellow glow.

"But that damn light won't stay off."

"I'll take a look," offered Quentin, eager to do something useful, even if it was attending to something as benign as an overactive motion sensor light. "Probably just some stray animal lurking around."

Quentin stepped into the dark autumn night, his boots sweeping through the masses of dead leaves piled near the front door. Crickets chirped rhythmic nighttime songs and the tang of woodsmoke drifted from the chimney. He picked his way around the house, mud from the recent rain squelching beneath him with each step.

The outdoor light in the back was still on, a single moth frantically beating its wings against the bulb. Quentin reached up, grabbing the moth by it's wings. It struggled helplessly until he squeezed it in his palm. When he let the insect's corpse fall to the ground, the sounds of the night had ceased. A strange foreboding stirred in his chest. "Jules?" he called, not taking his eyes off the forest.

When no reply came, he tapped on the glass window. Julia's face appeared. "What?" she asked, voice muted through the dusty pane of glass.

"Come out here."

Julia scowled, but disappeared from the window. The front door slammed moments later.

Quentin turned and scanned the impenetrable dark of the tree line.

"Where are the others?" asked Quentin when he felt Julia's presence beside him. To his amusement she still held the kitchen knife in one hand, a towel wrapped over the other to staunch her bleeding finger.

Julia shrugged. "They were supposed to be here by now." After a moment she murmured, "What's going on?"

"Can you feel it? Something's out there." He moved forward cautiously, fingers flexing.