Winona Grey breathed heavily as she pushed magic through her body and out her arms. Her heart had swelled with the two other witches, all three combining energy to pour into the circle they had drawn on Persephone’s mound. Halle led the ritual, speaking in hushed tones the proper words to invoke the spirit of a Ganconer.

  This plan had introduced a little distress into Winona’s heart, forcing her magic to waver. Ganconers were dangerous Fae which were rarely seen in the United States. Originating in northern Ireland and Scotland, Ganconers appeared to women as most desirable man they could think of. Once they had seduced their prey, a number of things could happen from kidnapping to murder. It wasn’t clear to Winona what would happen to a woman enthralled by a Ganconer, but she knew there were three women in the isolating fog attempting to conjure one up for themselves.

  Her eyes traveled to Elizabeth, the youngest of the three. She had yet to feel a man’s touch. It was clear by the way she looked at the Guns. How impressionable could an innocent young lady could be in the face of a Ganconer; it was an unnerving thought. Winona had herself known the physicality of men, and all the vulnerability that came with it. She knew Halle did as well. It could be a delight and a terror, for a girl in Elizabeth’s shoes. Fumbling young men like Chauncy Higgs would be the appropriate playground for Elizabeth to come into her womanhood, not the mesmerizing and insidious hands of a Ganconer. Winona couldn’t keep these thoughts from her mind.

  With the incantations behind her, Halle kicked up her magical output. Winona followed suit. Letting her silvery hair float about behind her. She set her heart in motion, thinking of her Gun facing down the horrible Banshee. All the oppressive emotions the Banshee had stained this bog with were emboldening her magic.

  “With this!” Halle held out a loc of her hair she had sheared off, “We summon the Ganconer!”

  Winona and Elizabeth each followed suit, holding out pieces of their hair which they had cut at Halle’s direction. “With this we summon the Ganconer!”

  The fog around them thickened into coarse black smoke, foreign to the Louisiana Bayou. Winona watched in awe as the smoke exploded into a haze of bright pinks and reds. The sounds of battle had gone quiet, leaving them in a suffocating silence. The haze stifled her vision, but Winona felt her skin tingle. The hairs on her neck stood up.

  “We have done it.” Halle’s voice shot through the silence, “The Ganconer is upon us. To Persephone he must go. We must resist him.”

  “Resist…” a sweet voice called out to them, “What is there to resist?”

  This was not the voice of her sister witches, this was a man’s voice. It was warm and rich, like fine hot chocolate, tumbling through her ears and into her mind. Winona breathed out slowly, feeling her body react to the presence of the Ganconer.

  Halle sat still, floating atop the mound. She knew that Persephone would return here as fast as she could. The masculine presence of the Ganconer far exceeded that of the four Guns combined. He was prey far more attractive. Unfortunately, he was also attractive to the witches. Halle knew this, it was the risk she was willing to take. If the Gradymen would put themselves to the scything talons and shrieking horror of the Banshee, so then she would put herself to the deadly temptation of the Ganconer.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  He came to Halle, taking up the finest of men in her mind’s eye. Stretched out in front of her, the Ganconer appeared through the pink haze. His skin was fine, flawless chocolate brown, with perfect eyes of blue. He looked like a man above men, like some sort of love-god, dressed in loose linen clothing which let her imagination wander. Halle’s magical energy coursed through her, fluttering with excitement at the sight of him. She was a witch of the Zola Coven, however. Her emotionality was finely honed toward the Arcane. She looked him in the eye, absolute temperance on her face.

  “Such a powerful woman.” He told her, “Such a wonder to behold. To summon me at this hour can mean only one thing.”

  He waited for her to respond, blue eyes glued to her. He could see she was conditioned to withstand his prying.

  “No bother, the finest things always find themselves locked away. Perhaps we will sit a while and just breathe one another in.”

  This went unheard by Winona, whom the Ganconer had appeared to separately. He did not take the same form. In Winona’s heart the perfect man already existed. The Ganconer took the form of Tornado Joe, sitting in front of her in his Sunday best. He had on that wolfish look he had taken from his master, eyes staring into her soul.

  “Winny, my lovely, that was a tough hunt.” He came a little closer to her, “I’d like my reward for my bravery now. Perhaps you’d like to play…”

  His hand gripped her shoulder gently. With his lip in his teeth, he slipped it down to cup her breast. Winona, enraptured by this carbon copy of Tornado Joe, found herself unable to shy away.

  “Feels like you’re ready for it, alright…” The Ganconer’s voice modulated with his excitement.

  Winona smirked, enjoying the touch for only a moment longer, “I wish my Joe was a little more like this.”

  She smacked the hand from her chest, backing away a step. The sexual aggression had taken her out of his enchantment. Tornado Joe was not a very forward man. Their game was cat-and-mouse, and Joseph always played his role perfectly. He was her handsome little mouse, letting her chase a little for what she wanted. She hadn’t ever seen this kind of behavior from Joe, but she had to admit it was working for her.

  Winona’s eyes shot over to Elizabeth. She knew seduction wouldn’t work on Halle, Zola witches were different creatures. It was the young Harp witch she worried for. Elizabeth stood there, eyes wide, hands clasped at her chest. She looked taken aback, under siege by the Ganconer.

  “Hello there, darling…” A smoky British voice called out. “I’ve been waiting for you to free me.”

  Elizabeth could see the paper-white skin of her mind’s finest man. Black hair tumbled down the bare chest of the imposing figure in front of her. Scarlet eyes shone brightly in her mind as the Vampire studied his prey. She could hardly breathe as he came to her in a rush of smoke. Both ethereal and corporeal, the Vampire gripped her hand and kissed it. He grinned, baring fangs in a deliciously dangerous display.

  His lips traveled to her neck, sliding her effortlessly into his arms. She felt every sense tingling as the fangs grazed her neck. Cold breath brushed her skin. Smells of vanilla and cinnamon hit her nose as the Ganconer worked its spell through her.

  “Succulent sweetness.” A low animalism undercut his refined accent.

  Elizabeth was lost, ready to let him have whatever he wanted. Desire colored her magic so brightly that Elroy could see it through the fog. She breathed shallowly as a cool hand gripped her thigh.

  Without warning, her anticipation curdled into disgust. She blinked, a sour feeling overcoming her. Elizabeth pulled away from the Ganconer with all effort in her body. The sensual vampire might as well been a rotting corpse. The feeling in her gut was so horrid it made her hunch over and heave. The Harp Coven witch vomited into the bog water below.

  Mickey Higgs had arrived in time, his Suggestion strong enough to break the spell of the Ganconer. Elroy arrived alongside him, pistol leveled. Halle saw the grim determination on her Gun’s Resolve. She couldn’t resist a wry smile.

  To the men, the Ganconer appeared in its true form. It was bumpy, skin leathery and mottled. A maw of jagged fangs grinned under two black eyes. A third eye, on his forehead, appeared to pulse pink and purple. The Ganconer was completely naked, its genitals hanging free. This disgusted the two Six-Guns, and Mickey did his best to impart this disgust onto the witches through Suggestion.