Homoween 2019: Hollywood Coven

Day 13: Hunter's Moon

Reverend Hunter Moon was having a no good, very bad day. If he was the type of person to believe in astrological signs, he most likely would've chalked it up to some sort of positioning of a planet somewhere. But Reverend Hunter Moon didn't believe in that sort of cursed jargon. He believed in his Book, in the holiness of the hymns, in the lighting of the candles.

Which was why he didn't let a lot of little things test his patience. What was the point of getting angry at a cold cup of coffee when the divine of the universe had chosen you to untwist their sacred words and deliver them to human ears? So what if your order of communion wafers was a week late? What an opportunity to bake your own bread like in the olden days! There was something better about it- more ceremonial.

And on slower days of the week like today, Reverend Hunter Moon could usually spend hours in contemplation simply because he had very few visitors. Not that he minded visitors and their questions, sometimes even in their hostilities were there hints of majesties.

Of course, usually visitors didn't show up drenched in blue ectoplasm. Hunter should've sensed that it would've been all downhill from there.

"Do you have showers here? This gunk stings a little padre. Don't worry, we're on your side."

The two men were pretty tall and very pretty. They moved almost as one pair, though the one with the greying hair spoke for them both it seemed. He noted the rosaries on their wrists, good and honest wooden models. Not flashy. Had his secretary signed him up for a Boondock Saints movie role and not told him?

"Only the personal one in my apartment upstairs-"

"That'll work-" 

He didn't even point in the direction and they were already moving through the vestibule like they owned the place.

"Gentlemen-"

"You should probably lock your doors."

"Our doors don't lock. Why?"

"Then your gate padre. And you probably won't want to come upstairs for a few minutes either."

The two men exchanged what Hunter referred to as a knowing look. At least in polite company.

"Who are you?!"

A pause. Had Hunter suddenly grown a second head on his shoulders? "We're Hunters. Keeping you safe from all the things that go bump in the night. Of course, we don't have to tell you that. Your kind were the ones who created the decrees."

The curious gentlemen moved on and Hunter's mind drifted back to them over the next few minutes. It wasn't like he had anything to steal and this church didn't have sacramental wine, so they weren't likely to find a good location with drugs. Reverend Hunter Moon specifically wouldn't keep to that sort of thing. He had standards.

"Where Are They?!" The booming shriek was heard first before the face. And what a face. A man with the nose of a bird. Wait. That was a beak.

"Who?"

"Don't protect them! This isn't their jurisdiction. You mortals can't just do things with impunity!"

"Wha- who-"

"The Hunters!" The beaked man approached, a beaked- wife? not far behind. "Don't tell me you're hiding them. You're supposed to be impartial. That is your job. I'll see you collar if you're hiding them!"

"Priest is an innocent, let him go."

"You were hiding them!" The man shrieked as the pair descended, looking very clean. How long had they been up there? Time seemed to be doing funny things today.

"We weren't hiding. We were just cleaning up."

"You Hunters don't belong here. Go back to California," the beaked man sneered. 

"Now granted we don't have jurisdiction but what you were doing was blatantly illegal. Someone was going to get killed. Padre, have you had any cases of holy water go missing recently?"

"I thought you said he was an innocent."

"Yeah, but his shipping guy isn't. Probably fills out nicely in those shorts, right Padre?"

Reverend Hunter Moon was stunned. 

"Padre, hello? Are you going to mediate here for us or not?"

"Mediate-"

"Oh for pete sake! You Hunters take sanctuary with a green collar? What kind of half-assed disaster operation are you running out there?! I have a business-"

"Your business was making immortals meth. I don't feel sorry for you."

"Nobody was hurt by it. It's safer than mortal K hole."

"Tell that to the four guys we found dead in the cully this morning."

"Why were you rooting around in a cully to begin with?! What- not enough dry levee beds out in Los Angeles?" The Beak Man's voice was screeching in a way that was reverberating now in the empty building.

"If I could-"

"You know the only thing keeping me from taking off your cooking arm, which is legal might I remind you, is the Sanctuary Accords."

"That only counts if the idiots in collars know. He's too young. No offense."

"Ummm-"

"Look, closest church. That's the rule. Besides, he's clean spirit."

"Too young. Too dumb to mediate. Don't cover for your mistakes. I will take this up with the Hunting Council. This is not some lawless western hick town. Las Vegas Hunters won't stand for your interference!"

"So who are you paying off then?"

"What?"

"I asked who you're paying off."

"I- how dare you!"

"You make designer night drugs. The high horse is a bit outside of your style range, Beakman."

"Beakman?" Hunter asked meekly, still trying to figure out what might be in his coffee.

"It's a - family name. Unrelated to our species. In any case, I call to prosecute these Hollywood Hunters for their crime!"

"Oh-

"Dear, I don't think he knows how to do that."

"Are you fucking with me right now?!"

"You and your wife should go home and think about your life choices."

"My wife? You think I'd marry her? She burns meatloaf."

"It's not meatloaf if there's no meat in it."

"Don't tell me about my species and our vegetarian culture! I live it!"

"It's very hard not to burn veggie loaf!"

"Stop talking Suzanne! God! Useless! What is the point of the Accords-" Beakman and associate left, his voice still screaming and resonating far out into the parking lot.

"Well, thank you for the use of your fine building padre. Much obliged. The Hunters are grateful for your help. Truth, justice, all that. Couldn't do it without you."

"You'll have to order new towels though. The blue blood acid burned through your linens. Umm- maybe one of your pillows too. Sorry." 

Hunter could still feel the slap of the clap on his shoulder and the warmth of the hand and it made him think of something long buried, deep inside of himself. It stirred and that took him back a little. 

"Hey now, don't do that to yourself. I know. But you have standards. You'd hate yourself for it later."

"What?"

"I can- see into your soul. It's- don't go down that road yet. You're not ready. Maybe three, four years from now. Then you'll be in your prime," JR said warmly as he moved his hand away. "Alright, Ian- let's roll!"

"Thanks again-" Ian called out as the Hollywood Hunters duo left the sanctuary of the confused Reverend Hunter Moon.