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Prologue: The Nightmare
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I stood in front of the mirror, carefully brushing my hair. Today's charity party to support the orphanage is immensely important to me. It's a chance to save the place that gave me a safe haven and most importantly - a home.
My mind briefly travelled back to the past. Those beautiful childhood memories, the moments when this orphanage was our true sanctuary. For many, such a place might seem cold and spooky, I get that. But I found someone I consider being my family there. My best friend, Damian. He was older than me, but we had so much in common. He basically became my shadow, someone who always protected me from those mean kids. We were inseparable. He was like an older brother I never had. We faced all life's challenges together, holding hands through the toughest times and laughing together in the happiest moments.
Thinking about our little adventures brought a mischievous smile of nostalgia.
The orphanage was located in an old and dilapidated building on the outskirts of the town. We often sneaked out secretly and explored long-forgotten places or watched the starry sky from the rooftop, dreaming of a better life beyond the solid wall that separated us from the outside world. Whether it was joyful moments of play and laughter or the times we wiped each other's tears, I knew that without Damian, the orphanage wouldn't have been the same.
He always supported and encouraged me, even when I felt like the whole world was against me. He convinced me that I had what it takes, he stood by me through thick and thin. Until the day he left.
It was a difficult period, but I tried to focus on the fact that he deserved a loving family and only the best. He wrote letters to me every month, reading them always brightened my day. It was almost like reading adventure reports – what he did, who he met, the amazing secret places he discovered. I wished so much that I could experience it all with him. His departure was the best thing that could have happened to him. He got under the wings of a very influential family that helped him build his career. Thanks to that, he became one of the sponsors of today's event.
With a bittersweet smile, I returned to the present and looked at myself in the mirror again. I adjusted my long black dress. For a moment, I felt like a princess waiting for her prince to rescue her from an enchanted castle, how silly. I was not looking forward to the party, but at the same time, I was eager to meet Damian. With a mixture of excitement and nostalgia, I stood up from the chair and made my way downstairs to the party.
I could hear the voices and the laughter coming from the dance hall in the hallways of the building. I became nervous; I was always a loner who preferred to avoid people. But I gathered my courage and quickened my pace. After all, my best friend was waiting for me - somewhere in the crowd.
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The room I stepped into was lit with hundreds of candles and a beautiful historical chandelier adorned with hundreds of sparkling gems, casting its flickering light over the dance floor. Figures danced to the rhythm of classical music, and for a moment, I felt like a guest at a Venetian ball. I tried to find Damian, but among the masked people, it was nearly impossible. I stood at the edge of the ball room alone, surrounded by conversations and live music that echoed in the dimly lit hall. Even though I was surrounded by people, I somehow felt lonely. My gaze wandered uncertainly over the guests, who enjoyed each other's company.
Suddenly, my eyes locked onto a tall, white-haired man standing a few meters away. He held a glass of wine firmly in his hand. His eyes, full of melancholy, penetrated my soul. It was as if our gazes met across the whirlwind of time.
He was tall and very handsome, his white hair falling over his broad shoulders. His elegant suit indicated that he was one of the sponsors of the orphanage. Gracefully, he began to walk in my direction, taking a glass of wine from a waiter on the way, and then he approached me.
"Salve, nemo saltat sobrius," he said in a deep, mysterious voice, offering me a glass of dark red wine.
I thanked him shyly and took a sip.
I wasn't used to the attention of strangers. After all, I had always been a grey mouse, a shadow, almost invisible to many. It was evident that he noticed my obvious discomfort.
"I apologize for my boldness; allow me to introduce myself," he said with a courteous bow. "My name is Esker Thorne." He gazed at me with his translucent green eyes.
"Sofia," I coughed. "Sofia Belladonna Le Clair." I raised my hand to fix my unruly hair.
"I know who you are, even if you might not remember me. I've often seen you wandering these corridors," he said. Seeing my puzzled expression, he laughed, "Saint Helena Van Dorn, I chose to use English version of my surname" he added.
In that moment, I understood; he was not just an ordinary sponsor but the patron of our orphanage. Thanks to him, we could live in this place, able to feel the warmth of a home. It all came back to me! From the beginning, I had a feeling that I had – seen - him – somewhere - before. He used to come to see Mother Superior. I remember being afraid of him; he always came after dark, dressed in a long and dark coat. When I think about it now, he looks almost the same as I remember him.
"May I have the honour of a dance?" he asked, reaching his hand towards me.
I nodded. I must admit I was very intrigued. He grabbed my hand gently. I wondered why his hands were so cold, and yet felt so warm. Instead of heading towards the crowd, we moved toward the doors leading away from the dance floor. The full moon rose above the dark horizon, illuminating the terrace with its bright blue rays.
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Two figures appeared on the open space where the old gardens used to be. With our hands stretched out, immersed in each other, we stood there, entwined in an elegant dance under the starry sky. The sounds of violin and piano drifted from the ballroom behind us, adding to the mysterious atmosphere of this moment.
I couldn't describe the feeling this man evoked in me.
Was it fear?
Curiosity?
A silent desire to know the answers to questions that had not yet been asked.
He leaned towards me, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear and whispered.
"Don't stop dancing. The truth is, I came to tell you something important, dearie." He paused, glancing subtly towards the ballroom. I looked at him questioningly, wanting to know what was going on, but Esker continued.
"You are in danger," he said gravely.
My confused look pierced him like a knife.
"In danger? I don't understand..." I was bewildered.
Esker's face was shadowed by urgency as he turned to me and uttered words that struck fear into my heart.
"I can't tell you more. Trust me," he said, firmly gripping my hand. "You must come with me," he whispered.
Confused, I stopped and stared at Esker, head full of questions. His urgent voice and serious words made me anxious. His expression was sincere, but fear was causing my knees to tremble. I pulled away from his grasp and began to run toward the exit. He ran after me, but then stopped and watched as I disappeared into the crowd. Suddenly, a stranger grabbed me. Instinctively, I recoiled in defence, but then I immediately recognized him. It was Damian.
"Did I scare you?" he asked, surprised.
I looked toward the garden, but there was no trace of Esker.
"Damian!" I threw myself into his embrace.
"Is something wrong?" he asked, concerned, scanning me from head to toe. "You look like you've seen a ghost," he remarked.
I shook my head.
“It's nothing, D, I just met a very strange person, he kind of gave me creeps,” I said.
“Was he handsome - at least -?” Damian smiled.
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“Ever seen a handsome ghost?” I joked and poked his shoulder.
“Well, it depends,” he laughed. “Let's get you some fresh air, my dearest friend.” he said as he pointed at the exit.
I can't describe how grateful I was at that moment. We headed to our favourite spot behind the winter garden. The music suddenly stopped, and silence engulfed the snowy landscape around us. I looked at Damian. He looked just as I remembered him, only his previously short messy hair was longer and well kept, his clothes were fancier but his eyes... somehow, they turned colder. I hope that he is happy in his new life. He noticed my worried look.
“It's OK Bell, he won't bother you again, not on my watch,” he said as he gave me a warm smile.
I shook my head to get rid of these weird thoughts and nodded. I don't want to spoil such precious moments with my stupid doubts.
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We stood at the park for a while, watching the night winter scenery, talking, catching up. It was nice, but I couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong. Damien looked slightly nervous too. He was in the middle of sentence, but he swallowed the words.
*Crack*
*Crack* … footsteps in the snow.
"Damian," I spoke quietly and nervously. "Something isn't quite right. I feel like we're not alone."
Damian looked in the distance, but there was no one around.
“Well maybe someone sneaked out as well, or maybe it's just an animal,” he said with reassuring voice.
And yet his gaze was vigilant, as if he could sense the dread too.
*Crack*
*Crack* … the noise was getting closer.
He grabbed my hand.
"Screw it, you're right, Sofi. I feel it too. Something definitely isn't right," he said and nervously surveyed the surroundings.
The air was filled with tension, and I sensed an unknown threat slowly approaching.
Did I make a mistake?
Should I have trusted him?
My thoughts flowed like a river. Multiple footsteps were getting closer from all sides, they were louder and louder- and we were trapped. I wanted to run back to the ball, but my legs felt heavy. Shapeless figures without faces emerged from the shadows. Damian firmly held my hand, ready to protect me.
"Who are you?!" I shouted, but the figures approached us in silence. There was something about the way they were moving. As if they were mere phantoms, slowly but surely closing the gap between them and their victims.
I was determined to protect myself and Damian. In an instant, I grabbed a branch lying nearby and held it in defence. How silly.
The shadow phantoms were fast, their claws soaked deep into our flesh. I saw Damian falling next to me.
Suddenly, I felt a dull pain in my chest, and with my last strength, I tried to protect my friend. I don't remember much, a feeling of darkness and powerlessness engulfed me, and I almost lost my consciousness.
... And so, after a while, darkness overcame me. The snow, Damian lying next to me, drowning in the dark sea of red. His lifeless eyes staring right at me. There was no sign of creatures that did this to us. As if they came only to take our lives, with no remorse.
I cannot recall for how long we were dying there.
In fleeting fragments, I saw the figure of that man illuminated by the dim light. His clothes and hands were soaked in blood.
He approached me, bending down to my defenceless body, gently caressing my face. He looked at me with a hint of pain, as if he were extinguishing the flame he had tried to protect so desperately.
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“I am so sorry, dearest one,” he whispered with a broken voice.
“You need to know that I tried. I tried to...” he paused, “I... I never wanted this to happen.”
His words disappeared in the wind. He bit his lower lip and leaned toward me.
His dark red lips pressed against mine, and I tasted the bittersweet flavour of his blood-soaked kiss.
Then there was silence.
The rustle of the forest vanished, and darkness engulfed my world.
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Chapter 1: The first assignment
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I jolted awake, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. My breath was ragged, and my body trembled with residual fear. The room was shrouded in darkness, and for a moment, I couldn't tell if I was still trapped within the nightmare or if I had finally escaped its clutches. As my eyes adjusted to the dimness, the realization hit me - I was back in my bedroom, safe from the horrors of the dream world.
Or so I had hoped.
The memories of that day were still vivid, as if they had imprinted themselves into my mind. It had been almost a year since the incident and yet I kept having these visions, nightmares...
Was it the memory or the conscience that kept haunting me every night? I wonder.
Deep down I always knew I could not save any of them. My gaze stopped at the scrap of newspaper laying on my nightstand.
The title said: “THE ST. HELLENA'S MASSACRE, NO SURVIVORS”. I took a deep breath and looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was 3am, the same hour I died. I grabbed the paper and put it inside the huge file in my drawer. Ever since I came back to life, I was trying to find any clues, track down these monsters. The Brotherhood of Judas the Iskarioth.
I was tired, but I knew I would not be able to fall asleep again, so I grabbed my hoodie and headed towards the door of my room to take a walk in the garden.
Suddenly I heard someone gently knocking on my door.
*Knock, knock
“I'm coming,” I answered in an instance.
As I opened the door a friendly face appeared. A tall, beautiful young woman stood in front of me, her dark curly hair gently falling onto her bronze cheeks. The dim light of a candle she was holding illuminated her ice-cold blue eyes.
“Did I wake you up?” she asked kindly.
I shook my head.
“What brings you here, Alice?” I asked as I gave her a warm smile.
“Well, not what but rather – who -,” she replied. “He wants to see you, it's urgent”.
What is so urgent that can't wait until the morning? I was confused, but nonetheless I immediately grabbed my gear and followed Alice trough the wide corridors of the mansion. She remained silent until we've reached a massive door separating the east wing from the rest of the building. Suddenly she stopped.
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“He wants to speak with you alone,” she said calmly. “Once you are done come to my room, there is something I wish to give you before you leave,” she said as she started walking in the opposite direction.
So, another mission. Great.
The office was just behind the corner. I never liked this particular part of the mansion. It wasn't well kept since non of us were allowed to come here unless we were summoned by Mr. Ozwald. Creepy guy, I must admit, although kind in his heart. He was the one who found and rescued me from the mortuary. Took me under his wings and trained me into one of his best agents of the Sanctitas society.
I slowly approached his office and knocked twice.
“Come in,” a voice echoed.
An old man was sitting behind his desk, buried in books and parchments so I could barely see his face in all that mess.
“Sit down Sophie,” he said as he pointed to the chair.
I cleared my throat, so I could speak.
“Sir, is there something important?” I asked with a confused voice.
“There is indeed a matter of great urgency,” he said slowly while putting down his thick glasses. The elderly man's face bore the marks of a life lived vigorously and with a history of its own. His skin, weathered and etched by the passage of time, held stories of both joy and sorrow. One particularly prominent feature always caught my attention – a massive scar that stretched across his left cheek, carving a rugged path from his temple to his jawline. I caught myself staring at it again, he never told us what had happened to him. Unlike us — he was just a regular human. I've noticed an obvious discomfort in his expression as he noticed me staring at it. I lowered my eyes.
Ozwald cleared his throat and proceeded to a matter at hand.
“Alice had vision and you were in it”, he said. He grabbed a map from the left side of the table and pointed at the secluded location near the huge lake.
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“Nina did some digging and discovered there were two people brutally murdered and several people wounded in this area recently. An official statement says it was done by an unknown wild... animal,” he continued.
“The victims were lacking hearts, their bodies were stripped out of their flesh and there were countless bitemarks on their bones,” he added.
Ozwald raised his eyebrows as he looked at me.
“Are you familiar with the werewolf curse?” he questioned.
Just as I nodded, I realized what he had been implying.
“I thought that the curse has been lifted long time ago,” I pointed out.
He rubbed his chin.
“Suposedely, yes, but something is happening, I need you to investigate it and gather some evidence so we can learn more about it,” he said as he handed me over the bunch of papers.
“You must leave as soon as possible, the intensity of the attacks is increasing every day,” he paused.
“Just be careful”.
I stood up and gave him a reassuring glimpse before leaving the office. It was very strange, I was on the several missions before, but he never let me go alone. Over the year he became like a father to me. Well, considering the fact that the Sanctitas is sort of a monster hunter company, with our so called “father” sending us investigating rather dangerous paranormal cases. I must admit it would be a nice bedtime story, a bunch of nonhumans saving the world.
As soon as I departed from the east wing, I headed to Alices room as she asked earlier. The room was dominated by an eclectic assortment of witchcraft tools and decorations, each carefully arranged with an air of purpose and reverence. The door was open, she was already expecting me. Honestly, it's never fun having a friend that's always one step ahead of you with her gift of foresight. A curse- as she calls it.
“You are late,” she noted. “Come, don't be shy,” she invited me with a kind gesture.
I have been in her room before, it always reminded me of some sort of alchemical laboratory with a bunch of strange symbols all around the walls, these “wards” as she calls them.
She approached me with a tarot card in her hand.
“What is it?” I asked curiously.
“It depends, it can be anything you want it to be,” she said with a smile on her face. “I figured out a proper badge would suit you, detective LeClair,” she continued as she handed over the mysterious card.
I've observed it carefully, to me it was just a regular tarot card with an illustration of a man and a sign reading: “THE FOOL”.
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“Now close your eyes, imagine that the card is actually a badge or an ID,” she said.
And so, I did. I've tried my best to picture it, the shape, the material, the tiniest detail, and sooner than I've expected I felt how the matter started to dissolve, taking a new form. As I opened my eyes, I held a police badge stating:
SCPD
Detective Sophia Belladonna LeClair.
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The details on the emblem were remarkable, just as if it's always been this way. Alice smiled when she noticed the excitement on my face.
“I'm glad you like it,” she said. “It can take many different forms, so use it wisely,” she added as she gently patted my head.
I thanked her. She always got my back, just like an older sister protects her younger sibling in her own way. She is an extremely caring person, considering the fact that she survived hell herself, it is very admirable.
I gave her a warm smile before I departed to pack my stuff. My destination is located on the North, it is going to be quite a ride, honestly.
As I entered my bedroom, I headed straight to the library shelf and pulled an old book. Something in the wall clicked and a secret door had opened. I always thought these “secret” passages in movies and books were quite epic, I never dreamed that I could have one of my own.
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The tiny room was filled with all sorts of equipment, grimoires and weapons. And vials, filled with blood. I had to pack few of these as well if I was to survive the sunlight. Perks of being a half-vampire. Few drops of sweet red liquid were enough to protect me from being turned into a pile of ashes. I always carried a tiny vial filled with it on my neck, you know, just in case. I picked up my old trusty gun loaded with silver bullets and placed it in the holster under my jacket.
As soon as I finished packing, I left and headed outside. An old car was waiting for me there. I've always liked cars and driving, it makes me feel free, unbound. At least for a while.
The journey was taking a lifetime. I left the mansion at the early morning and now it was already getting dark again. The streets were empty, just as if I arrived at a ghost town. The place appeared to slumber under a shroud of stillness. The streets were now hushed, devoid of the usual symphony of footsteps and voices. The small buildings that defined the urban landscape stood like silent sentinels, their windows mostly darkened, giving the impression that the city had been abandoned. People must be frightened by the recent events, can't blame them. As I drove through the town, I noticed a neon sign reading “MOTEL & DINER”. I headed towards the signs direction and soon I arrived at the parking lot. The diner was still open, but I wasn't hungry, so I approached the motels reception. A wind bell greeted me when I opened the door.
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The place looked like it was built in early 70's, quite old fashioned, I thought. It looked like it was empty, so I stepped closer to the reception table, and I gently pressed the ring which was laying in the centre of it. No response, so I pressed it again and again. An old lady appeared from behind the corner of the hallway, slowly getting closer, weaving at me. She was dressed in long dress decorated by flower pattern and her grey hair was tied in an elegant bun.
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“Just a minute, young lady, just a minute,” she called.
She entered the reception and picked her glasses from the shelf, then she measured me from head to toe.
“I must admit we don't have many visitors in Cold Springs, especially after these — animal attacks”, she said.
“What brings you here?” she asked curiously.
“My name is Sophia Belladonna LeClair, SCPD,” I said with calm voice as I pulled out my fake badge and handed it over to her.
She measured me again, giving me a slightly doubtful look.
“Your colleague is already settled in, he didn't mention he wasn't coming alone,” she said as she returned my badge.
I tried to hide my obvious confusion. I was not expecting this scenario, who is this guy anyway? Why is there an actual SCPD agent on this case? I wonder.
“Would you like to have a separate room?” she asked while she was filling the paperwork.
I nodded without hesitation. Hopefully I can avoid him.
“Here,” she grabbed a pair of keys and gave them to me. “It's room seven, your partners room is just across the hallway,” she said.
I thanked her politely, while taking the keys.
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As I turned to head towards my room, her reassuring words followed me like a gentle echo. "I'll be there in case you need anything," she said. It was a nice old lady. I have to solve this case as soon as possible so I can protect good people like her. The familiar creak of the door welcomed me into my motel room. It exuded a charming vintage vibe, its décor and furnishings reminiscent of a bygone era. While the design may have been old-fashioned, the space offered a warm and inviting ambiance that enveloped guests in a sense of comfort. I placed my stuff on the small cozy bed and looked through the window. The scenery I saw was beautiful. The snow-covered mountains were reaching to the skies, I would never have guessed that they could hide such dark secrets within their forests. I wasn't tired yet, so I've decided to go for a walk. A small path leading to the forest was visible from the parking lot. I saw a pair of fresh footsteps in the snow, leading further to the forest ahead, so I decided to walk the other direction. The air was cold, each breath a visible mist in the moonlit darkness. The ground was blanketed in a layer of pristine snow, its soft crunch underfoot creating a soothing rhythm. The trees, adorned with delicate icicles, stood tall and statuesque, their branches casting elongated shadows on the glistening ground. The only sound was the hushed whisper of the wind as it rustled through the frosted trees. It was so peaceful — I thought —.
Until I've heard a scream. It cut through the silence like a knife. I panicked for a second, trying to identify the source of it. I was already far away from the motel. I doubt any person would dare to take a walk so deep into this forest at this hour, especially after what had happened last week. I caught a glimpse of light not too far away from the place where I was standing. It was a tiny cottage just below the hill. I began to run toward it, hoping it was just my imagination, but then I heard it again. Someone was in trouble. As soon as I got to the door I knocked, but there was no response.
“Hello?”
“Is anybody inside? I'm here to help!” I said with urgency in my voice.
— no response.
I knocked again, but this time louder.
I've heard something breaking inside, someone must be there.
“Get lost!” a voice echoed from the cottage. “Leave me alone, you are not real,” the voice screamed. It was a shaking voice of a man. He must be frightened.
“Sir, calm down. I mean you no harm,” I said slowly.
“I am detective LeClair from SCPD, please let me in so I can help you,” I continued carefully.
“I....I don’t believe you! … That thing, it can make voices.... It's not REAL! You are not REAL” he continued screaming and muttering gibberish.
“I assure you I am real, there is nothing to worry about. You need help.”
The man remained silent, but I heard the old floor squeaking as he slowly and carefully approached the door. He peeked through the small gap, as soon as he saw me, he unlocked the massive wooden door. Then he grabbed my hand and pulled me in, closing the door in a hurry.
His hand and his chest were bleeding, his entire body was covered in scratches. I had to bite my lip to keep the control over my instincts.
“You are hurt,” I said pointing at his wound, trying my best to focus.
The man in his 50's was in a bad shape, he was pale as if he saw a ghost. The blood was dripping from his arm. He could barely stand, so I grabbed him and helped him sit down on a couch nearby.
“What happened?” I asked.
“You... you would not believe me,” he replied.
I've put my hand on his shoulder to assure him everything was ok, when suddenly I heard a loud bang as the door opened widely.
A tall dark-haired man dressed in black was standing there with a gun in his hand. His eyes, deprived of all emotion were staring at me filled with hate.
“Step away from him, bloodsucker,” he said with a voice as deep as thunder.
I was surprised, I took one step back from the wounded man and measured the intruder with visible confusion.
“Who are you?... How do you know I'm...” —he didn't let me finish.
“Shut the fuck up, or your brain will decorate the wall,” he hissed trough his teeth.
His sharp gaze pierced through my soul, leaving me unable to move. I've noticed a badge placed on his belt.
Shit.
It’s the other guy the receptionist mentioned earlier. Seems like he is not a regular agent either.
“Please put down your weapon, I am here for the same reason you are,” I said, trying to remain calm. The wounded man lost consciousness. He has lost too much blood. I don't have time to deal with this guy right now, I got to figure something out.
Quickly.
I moved my hands slowly, showing that I am unarmed and then I continued.
“I am one of the Sanctitas, Ozwald sent me to investigate the recent incident,” I said.
He raised his eyebrows.
“I figured that much, it does not change the fact that you guys are the same monsters you are hunting,” he said with disgust.
Screw it, we don't have time for this.
I cleared my throat.
“Good for you, Sherlock, so, are you going to shoot me, or will you help me get this guy to safety?” I said as I pointed at the man on the couch.
He hesitated for a second, just as if he was actually considering killing me on the spot. Then he put his weapon in the holster.
“Hell” he muttered to himself as he approached the man. He rolled up his sleeve, looking at his watch while pressing his index and the middle finger on the old man's neck.
“He's alive, but barely. Seems it's your lucky day, bloodsucker”, he paused for a second. “Oh, and just for the record, my name is Nicolas. Nicolas Howl.” He said, without any sign of emotion in his voice. As if the name was supposed to mean something to me.
I came closer so we can carry him together. His body was heavy, motionless. We stepped out of the cabin and followed the trail back to the officer's car. The road was not far from here, soon enough we approached a black Ford Mustang parked just below the horizon. We carefully placed the man on the passenger seat, his skin was as pale as the moonlight, deprived of most of his blood.
“Go, I'll meet you at the hospital,” I said as I closed the door. Nicolas gave me an empty look, got into his car and drove off with the man.
Like yeah, surely, I was not expecting him to offer me a ride or anything. What a rude guy. Well, I can manage to get to hospital on my own, I need to investigate what had happened here before I leave anyway. I followed the smell of fresh blood until I saw two pairs of footsteps in the snow leading to an old, crooked tree. Scratches all over it, blood and pieces of fabric on the ground, signs of a struggle. Most of the footsteps must belong to the old man, however there was another pair of large marks in the snow. Similar to those of a barefoot human at the first glance, and yet there was something sinister about them. It is most certainly not a werewolf. A skinwalker, perhaps? I wonder. As much as I dislike the idea of seeing the young officer again, I have no choice. Two hunters are better than one, let's just hope he won't make me another prey. This case is unlike anything I have seen so far.
***
I was on my way to the hospital to check on the victim, my heart was heavy with worry. The walk had been a blur of thoughts, each passing second only increasing my concern. What exactly am I facing? As I entered the hospital's sterile halls, the scent of disinfectant and the distant hum of medical equipment filled the air, heightening my unease. My senses were ten times as strong as those of a human, I felt like I was about to puke each time a took a breath. I proceeded anyway. I was desperate to know if we manage to save the witness.
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Turning the corner, I saw a tall, imposing figure leaning against the wall outside the room. It was Nicolas. His intense gaze was fixed on the closed door, his expression a mix of determination and contemplation.
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"Agent Howl," I greeted him, my voice catching slightly in my throat. "Is he okay?"
He glanced at me briefly.
"It's not good," he replied, his tone cold and steady. "He was taken straight to the operating room. They sewed him up and now he's getting a second unit of blood transfusion".
"We're dealing with something ominous," I said, my voice low. "The evidence suggests that this is something far more powerful than I've thought."
My mind raced as I absorbed the gravity of the situation. The victim was in critical condition, and now there was a relentless monster at loose. Howl's presence worried me, but deep down I knew I needed any help I could get.
Howl's eyes met mine, and despite his obvious hatred towards my kin, he knew he needed me as well. Suddenly he turned to me, pressing his hand towards the wall behind me, trapping me. He leaned closer. “Seems like we have a common enemy, so I' might spare you this time,” he whispered. “Try anything stupid and you will meet your maker, leech”.
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The blood froze in my veins, there was something about this man I couldn't explain. He was just a human and yet I was terrified of him. I could feel his resentment, his pain, he would drove a stake through my heart without any hesitation should we meet under any other circumstances. He stared at me silently like a statue, waiting for my response.
I nodded begrudgingly. Only then he would let me go.
“So, partner,” he grinned, mocking me. “We need to ask around, check the archives, find out if there were any other similar cases in the past.”
I've cleared my voice and reached for my phone “I need to contact my superiors to inform them about the situation, maybe they can help.”
Nicolas shook his head, “There is no need, my man are already looking into that”.
“By the way,” he grabbed the phone and crushed it under his feet. “This whole cooperation thing is going to be our little secret”, he frowned.
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Nope, we are not going to be friends. I'm certain he is going to use me as a bait. Great, I've always dreamt of becoming a dinner for a vicious monster lurking in the woods in the middle of nowhere.
“So, what's the plan exactly?” I asked, with a sense of inconspicuous irritation in my voice.
He rubbed his chin. “You will meet me at seven o'clock at the local dinner,” he paused. “According to my source, you are somehow free to walk in the sun, so we shall discuss our next step there.”
So- he knows.
Well, at this point I'm not even surprised.
“Looks like you did some digging already, good for you. I just want you to know that I am not your enemy.” I said as I headed towards the exit.
Nicolas said nothing — he just stood there, watching me leave. Just like a predator, observing its prey he's saving for later.
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***
As soon as I arrived at the motel, I locked the door behind me. I was not ready for more surprises, all I needed was rest, I deserve a proper rest. What the hell have I gotten myself into?! Who is this annoying, RUDE piece of garbage anyway? I was too tired to think about all of this. Tomorrow is another day. And sooner than I knew I fell into deep slumber.
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CHAPTER 2: The digging
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The first rays of the morning sun gently touched my face. I stretched my hands and looked out of the window. The winter scenery covered in glittering light made me smile. It reminded me of the old — more peaceful times. I sat down and reached for my clothes hanging on the chair nearby. I wish I could fully enjoy a nice morning like this, but I have to meet the detective. Last thing I want is him, kicking the door of my apartment with a gun in his hands, asking why the hell I didn't showed up at the diner yet. I yawned as I put my jacket on, I could clearly use a few more minutes in a warm, cozy bed. Well — it is what it is.
I made my way to the diner, weaving to the old receptionist lady while passing through the entrance. She barely noticed me, maybe it's for the best.
As I stepped outside the motel, a familiar smell of coffee and ham and eggs engulfed my senses. Even as a half vampire I still needed food and gods damn it, I was starving! I opened the door to the restaurant and stood there hesitantly while scanning the tables for any signs of Nicolas. Suddenly I felt a warm hand touching my back.
“There you are, partner, I was worried you would not show up after our little chat yesterday,” he said kindly, smiling.
I was surprised. I didn't expect him to be able to *act* nicely around me. I gently pushed his hand away and pointed at the table with a street view.
“Shall we?”
As soon as we made ourselves comfortable at the dinner table a nice young lady approached us with a menu in her hands.
“I've already decided what I want,” I said. “I'll have eggs and coffee. Two sugars and milk please.”
She smiled at me and turned her face to Nicolas.
“Double it, just without the milk,” he said.
The waitress nodded at us and left.
“MILK?!” he said with amusement and disgust at the same time. “You truly are a blasphemous creature, aren't you?” he added.
I could not hide the confusion on my face, what is the deal with this guy. Acting nice? Making jokes? I guess people like him are the most dangerous out here. I'm sure he will drop the act the moment we leave this building. It is for the best that I play along for now.
“Well, some people want their coffee as black as their soul, as for others... I mean what's wrong about a petty sin anyway?” I replied.
His smile widened, although I've noticed a small wrinkle forming on his forehead. He was about to say something, but the waitress interrupted us, placing two plates on the table.
“I'll be back with your coffee in a minute”, she said as she turned on her heel and headed back to the bar, grabbing two cups of the delicious brownish liquid.
I've put my sugar and milk in and took a sip.
— Just what I needed.
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee always made me feel more comfortable, relaxed. I drank it slowly, enjoying the bittersweet taste on my tongue sip by sip.
Nicolas, on the other hand poured the whole hot content of the cup right down his throat. How savage.
“So, what's the deal with you anyway?” I asked with monotonous voice.
He ignored me and took another bite of his breakfast. I reached out to my handbag and pulled out a bunch of papers, placing them carefully on the dinner table while he observed me silently.
“It's the evidence so far, my people gathered some information about the victim's relatives and witnesses,” I said as I opened the file.
I cleared my throat.
“The couple that was killed last week had a daughter. She lives nearby. I already called her using the reception phone earlier today, she is expecting us.”
Nicolas finished his breakfast and carefully wiped his mouth with a tissue.
“As much as I appreciate your interest in this case, I would pretty much prefer if you stayed out of it. You are here- alive and breathing because I need a side kick, if you know what I mean. Leave it to me.” He smiled, but his voice sounded threatening.
I pushed the papers his direction. “Fine, read it.”
He wasn't interested in my files. I bet his man have no problem with intel. He weaved at the waitress so he could pay for the food.
“Breakfast is on me, partner,” he said while he handed over cash to the middle-aged well-kept woman.
Agent Howl rose to his feet, slipping into his long brown jacket with practiced ease. Following suit, I joined him, and together we made our way towards the car stationed just outside the motel. His gesture of opening the door for me was appreciated, though a nagging feeling of unease lingered in the air. As I settled into the passenger seat, its comfort contrasting starkly with the stiffness of my own vehicle, Nicolas seamlessly entered the car and programmed the GPS with our destination. A glance at the monitor confirmed the proximity of our target; unsurprising, given the modest size of the town. The brief journey passed in silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts.
Nicolas parked the car at the garage entrance. "Alright, listen up, Miss Leech," he instructed firmly, passing me a notebook and pen. "I'll handle the talking. Your job is to take notes; they'll be crucial later on."
Accepting the notebook, I flipped it open, revealing several pages already adorned with meticulous information. Victim names, their relatives, potential suspects, and sketches of evidence adorned the initial pages.
But it was the final page that seized my attention: Maria and James Miller, the most recent victims. And there, listed beneath them, was the name Elisabeth Miller—their daughter.
Through the window, a fleeting silhouette caught my eye. Miss Miller was evidently already anticipating our arrival.
"Don't worry, Detective. I'll play nice," I declared with a hint of frostiness as I emerged from the car. "You might label me a monster, but I have genuine intentions to aid these people."
He smiled in disbelief, and I realized there was likely no convincing him otherwise. But such thoughts were inconsequential; my purpose here was to solve this case. Ultimately, we shared a common objective.
As we neared the door, my hand poised to knock, it swung open unexpectedly. A young woman, clad in black, stood before us, extending an invitation inside. She ushered us into the living room where a teapot and three cups awaited us. Silently, she gestured towards the sofa, and we obliged, taking our seats.
"Miss Miller, I'm Sophia LeClair, and this is my partner, Nicolas Howl. Please accept our sincerest condolences," I said, extending my hand towards her. She accepted the gesture, shaking my hand, though Nicolas shot me an irritated glance.
"Thank you, detectives," she acknowledged, pouring fragrant tea into the cups.
"I've already spoken to the local police, but they insist it's just another tragic animal attack," she began, pausing for emphasis.
"The way they looked at me when I told them what I've heard... they must think I'm crazy," she concluded, a hint of frustration evident in her tone.
"Miss Miller, rest assured, nobody here is going to dismiss your concerns as irrational," Nicolas reassured, carefully selecting his words before continuing, "We rely on every scrap of information. Even the smallest detail could be pivotal in apprehending the culprit."
The woman took a deep breath.
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"I couldn't sleep the night after the funeral," she began, her voice heavy with anguish and horror. "They called me to identify the bodies, but there wasn't much left. I could only recognize them by their wedding rings, still clinging to their gnawed fingers."
Her words painted a picture that haunted me, refusing to let go.
"I refuse to believe it was an animal," she concluded firmly, her conviction palpable.
I focused intently on transcribing every detail, feeling increasingly unsettled by the grim narrative unfolding before us. My heart ached for the poor woman, her anguish echoing Damian's tragic fate, his body consumed by a sea of crimson. I shook my head briskly, dispelling the haunting memory.
"I'm sorry you had to endure such a harrowing experience, Miss Miller," Nicolas interjected gently, his voice laced with empathy. "Is there anything unusual you recall? What leads you to believe it was a murder?" he inquired, his tone inviting further discussion.
"If you saw what I saw, Detective," she began, her voice faltering momentarily. "The bodies were so mutilated... they were beyond recognition. And both of their... their hearts were missing," she continued, the gravity of her words hanging heavy in the air.
"And that's not all," she added, her voice trembling slightly. "As I mentioned earlier, I couldn't sleep after the funeral, so I went outside to get some fresh air."
"That's when I heard it," she choked out, tears welling in her eyes. "Their voices, calling out to me from the woods, begging for help." She broke into sobs. "I was too terrified... I ran back home."
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"I'm sorry, Miss Miller, did you just mention hearing your deceased parents calling out to you?" Nicolas inquired, his tone tinged with disbelief.
She nodded, a flicker of desperation evident in her expression.
"Nicolas, can I have a word with you?" I whispered, gesturing towards another room.
"Please excuse us for a moment, Miss Miller," Nicolas said kindly, offering her a reassuring glance before rising from his seat to follow me.
"What is it, bloodsucker?" he asked, lowering his voice as we stepped into the other room.
I cleared my throat, retrieving my diary from my bag and flipping it open to a report from the previous night.
"The elderly man we encountered also claimed to have heard human voices. According to him, the creature we're dealing with can mimic voices to lure its prey," I explained, a sense of concern threading through my words.
Nicolas rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his mind undoubtedly buzzing with questions. I presented him with the photos I had taken the night before, displaying the evidence I had gathered.
"I thought it might be a skinwalker or a ghoul," I whispered as I handed him the pictures.
He swiftly scanned through the images before settling on one in particular—a massive tree torn apart, its bark marred with scratches.
"The sheer strength required for this damage..." he mused, his brow furrowing. "While both ghouls and skinwalkers can mimic voices, neither possesses such formidable strength," he concluded.
"Did you come across any tracks? Anything that might lead us to the creature?" he inquired further.
I shook my head regretfully. "The darkness obscured most of the tracks, and the wind had covered them in snow, I could not identify them,” I replied.
"Then off we go," he declared with a smile. "Let's spend some quality time in the woods. You know, bonding is essential," he added, his tone chillingly emotionless.
Upon our return, Miss Miller stood by the window, her hands still trembling.
"Miss, could you point on the map the location where you heard the voices?" Nicolas inquired, handing her a map and a pencil.
She nodded, marking a small "X" on the paper.
"Do you require anything else, detectives?" she asked, measuring us both carefully.
"That will be all for now. Thank you for your cooperation," Nicolas responded. The woman escorted us to the door and locked it behind us.
As soon as we made our way to the car, Nicolas's phone rang, and he promptly answered.
"Detective Howl."
"Yes, of course. On my way."
"Thank you," he concluded before hanging up.
"A change of plans, partner," he announced. "I'll drop you off at the local library. Check for books, old articles, similar cases, local legends, and myths. I'll meet you there later today," he finished.
"Wait, where are you going?" I inquired curiously.
"Mr. Forge has awakened. I need to take his statement," he replied, starting the car and pulling out of the parking spot. "The library is near the hospital, so I'll drop you off there. Don't attempt anything foolish; we both know it would be unwise."
I rolled my eyes. "Guess this man forgets what I am. I could easily rip his neck open at any time. He's the one who should mind his behaviour," I mused silently to myself.
At nearly ten in the morning, the city wore an eerie emptiness, its streets devoid of the usual hustle and bustle. Occasionally, a few solitary figures could be spotted wandering aimlessly, their presence serving as mere whispers in the vast expanse of solitude that enveloped the urban landscape.
Fear grips the hearts of the city's inhabitants. With numerous citizens still unaccounted for, it's no wonder they're hesitant to venture out, prioritizing their own safety above all else. We reached the hospital swiftly. Exiting the car, Nick courteously opened the door for me, gesturing toward the round building nearby.
"That's the library; I'll catch up with you later," he informed me, locking the car before striding toward the hospital entrance.
Navigating through a small park, I approached the library. Luckily, it was open. A woman bearing a striking resemblance to the receptionist greeted me as I pushed the door open.
Stepping into the library, the distinct scent of aged paper and ink filled my senses, evoking a sense of nostalgia that whispered of bygone eras. I offered the woman a warm smile as I greeted her.
"I'm Sophia LeClair from SCPD. My partner and I are investigating the Miller family's deaths and several disappearances," I explained.
"Oh, yes, the detective. My sister mentioned you two had arrived at her motel," she acknowledged, adjusting her glasses.
"How may I assist you?" she inquired politely.
"I'll need some books on your folklore, legends, and any newspaper articles detailing similar cases," I requested, passing her a small note listing the information.
Taking the scrap of paper with a gentle nod, she turned to access the library's database. "Please, feel free to take a seat, miss LeClair. It may take a while. You're welcome to use the coffee machine in the corner," she offered politely.
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Ah, coffee. Just what I need, I thought to myself as I settled into a chair, cradling the cup of sweet, brownish liquid in my hands. I took gentle sips, relishing the warmth that spread through me as I waited.
Soon enough, the librarian approached with a stack of books in her hands. "These are the books you requested. I'll gather the newspapers for you shortly," she informed me, placing the books on the table before giving me a warm smile.
I returned her smile, expressing my gratitude with a nod of thanks.
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Nearly an hour slipped by as I delved into the first book, immersing myself in the city's history, its traditions, and its natural surroundings. Yet, despite my efforts, I unearthed nothing that seemed relevant to our case. Disappointment gnawed at me; I had hoped to uncover something significant, perhaps even enough to provoke a smirk from Nick.
But as if summoned by my thoughts, the door swung open just as I closed the book, and Nicolas strode into the library. He made a beeline for me, taking a seat opposite me at the table after hanging his coat on the back of the chair.
"Find anything?" he asked.
I shook my head in response.
"And how is he?" I inquired, concern lacing my words.
"He'll survive," Nick replied tersely. "You were right. He claimed to have heard his missing daughter's voice," he added, his tone steady.
"Take the books; I'll comb through the newspapers," he directed, extending his hand towards a stack of old articles.
Reaching out, my hand closed around the weathered spine of the oldest book resting on the table. A hunch whispered through me, urging me to delve into its pages, convinced that within its ancient text lay the answers I sought. The tome was a weighty volume, thick with knowledge spanning epochs, its contents a tapestry woven from the threads of history and legend, including the storied narratives of the land's indigenous peoples.
Meanwhile, Nicolas diligently scoured through newspapers, pen poised to capture the essence of each article. My gaze lingered on him, perplexed by the intensity of his disdain for all things supernatural. Why was he so consumed by hatred, branding anything beyond the realm of the ordinary as monstrous? It irked me deeply to be unjustly labeled as such, for I abhorred baseless judgment. Determination surged within me; I resolved to challenge his narrow-minded perception and prove him wrong.
As the hours melted into the encroaching darkness, the librarian had already bid her farewell, leaving us with a set of spare keys to linger in the dimly lit library. A pizza, adorned generously with pepperoni, had arrived courtesy of a delivery person some time ago, offering a welcome reprieve to our weary and famished selves. Despite our fatigue, our minds remained focused on our reading, though our senses were heightened, attuned to any sign of disturbance. The atmosphere grew thick with an unspoken tension, palpable and suffocating. In the midst of this silent vigil, my thoughts gravitated towards the man opposite me, this enigmatic figure whose motives remained elusive. I longed to decipher the depths of his animosity towards me, to unravel the mystery behind the pain that lurked within his emerald eyes whenever they met mine. What secrets lay veiled behind his inscrutable facade? What hidden truths awaited discovery in the recesses of his soul?
"What?" Nicolas hissed sharply as he caught my gaze fixed on him.
"I was thinking," I responded calmly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "You act cold and ruthless, but beneath the facade, I sense a deeper concern for the people of this town. There's an undeniable pain within you, something that weighs heavily on your shoulders."
A flicker of amusement danced in Nicolas' eyes as he smirked. "You truly have no idea who I am, do you?" he remarked.
I shook my head.
"Well then, perhaps it's time for a bedtime story," he declared, setting the newspaper aside with a deliberate gesture.
"As a child, I made a grave mistake—I befriended a demon. Foolishly, I allowed her into my life, inviting her into my home without understanding the danger she posed. Then, one fateful day, I returned from school to find my sanctuary engulfed in flames. My family—my mother, father, and sister—perished in the inferno. And there she stood, the demon, outside amidst the chaos, spouting incomprehensible incantations, her once-human eyes now as dark as the void. It was then that I swore an oath—to become a hunter, to rid the world of such malevolent creatures and prevent others from suffering the same fate as my loved ones." He recounted his tale with an unsettling calmness, devoid of any outward display of emotion. Yet, beneath his composed façade, I sensed a tumultuous storm raging within him—a tempest of hatred and regret that gripped his heart with an iron grip.
"I enlisted in the military after a few years," he began, his voice steady and resolute, "and eventually found myself serving in the Supernatural Division. I assumed the role of the Executioner," he declared.
Intrigued, I inquired, "What became of the demon?"
"I dispatched it with my own hands that very night," he replied, his tone betraying neither pride nor remorse.
A heavy silence descended, punctuating the gravity of his words. In that moment, a profound understanding dawned upon me. The pain etched into his eyes mirrored my own, resonating with a shared anguish. From the instant our gazes first met, I recognized a kindred spirit, a fellow prisoner of past traumas. Perhaps it was a leap of faith, but I felt compelled to extend a hand of assistance. For without intervention, he risked remaining shackled to the ghosts of his history indefinitely.
"I understand your pain, Nick. But not every being beyond our realm is a malevolent force!" I blurted out impulsively. His piercing gaze sliced through me like a knife. In an instant, he was on his feet, sending the table crashing aside before lunging at me. I tumbled to the ground, his hands closing around my throat with a vice-like grip, fury contorting his features.
With venom in his voice, he leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. "You and I are nothing alike. You're the monster here, no longer human. And that makes you my enemy," he spat. "Yes, I know everything about you. In fact, I was there to clean up the mess," he growled, his words laden with a weight of accusation.
"You... were there?!" I gasped, my voice betraying my shock.
His grip tightened around my neck, but then, abruptly, he released me. "The massacre investigation was my first assignment," he confessed quietly. "I should have ensured you were truly dead," he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of remorse. "Our past mistakes have a way of haunting us," he concluded solemnly.
"Perhaps that's why I appeared in Alice's vision," I mused aloud. "The Brotherhood of Judas—they're responsible," I declared, my voice trembling with anger and grief.
"I know," he replied impassively.
My hands shook with rage, adrenaline coursing through my veins. With a surge of desperation, I seized his tie, pulling him closer to me, a wild fervor burning in my eyes. "Did you uncover anything?! Tell me!" I demanded, my voice escalating into a desperate plea.
He grasped my hand, forcibly removing it from his tie. "It's none of your concern, vampire," he replied coldly.
"None of my concern?!" I erupted, the fury within me boiling over. "They slaughtered my family! They took everything from me! But you have the audacity to claim it's none of my concern?!" I screamed, my words laced with anguish and righteous indignation.
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"Listen, I may despise your kind, but I'm genuinely sorry for what you've been through. Regardless, justice must be served for the victims of the massacre," he stated earnestly.
"Now, pull yourself together. We need to stay focused on this case," he urged, his voice taking on a steely edge.
He was right. I possessed the ability to make a difference, to shield these innocent lives. But first, I needed to clear my mind. With a silent nod, I turned and left the library, seeking solace in the cool embrace of the night air.
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I emerged into the night, seeking solace in the quiet beauty of the moonlit sky and the gentle cascade of snowflakes. The serene atmosphere provided a brief respite from the turmoil within my mind.
Moments later, the sound of footsteps drew my attention, and I turned to see Nicolas approaching, a note clutched in his hand. His figure was illuminated by the soft glow of the moon as he lit up a cigarette, the ember casting an ephemeral light in the darkness.
"I found something," he announced simply, his voice cutting through the stillness of the night.
I accepted the note from Nicolas, my curiosity piqued as I scanned its contents. My eyes widened as I noted the titles of various articles, each bearing a different date, each separated by a decade.
The significance of the pattern wasn't lost on me. A sense of foreboding settled over me as I realized the implications of the timeline laid out before me. With a furrowed brow, I turned to Nicolas, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I am sorry for my tantrum” I said quietly. “So, the monster attacks every ten years, it must be connected to a local folklore, I am sure of it.” I stated. “It can even be some kind of an old god or a totemic creature,” I said.
Nicolas nodded. “The book you were reading, was there any local god or an entity the original inhabitants worshipped?” He asked.
I rubbed my chin gently. “The book mentioned few local gods and spirits, but nothing with such a malevolent nature,” I replied.
"We should get some rest," Nicolas remarked, extinguishing his cigarette with a flick of his wrist. "We'll head into the woods tomorrow."
After securing the library, we made our way to the hospital parking lot to retrieve Nicolas's car. The night air was chilly as we walked in silence, the weight of our shared mission heavy upon us.
Nicolas dropped me off near the motel, and with a simple nod of acknowledgment, we parted ways, each retreating to our respective rooms for the night. The door closed behind me with a soft click, enveloping me in the quiet solitude of my temporary sanctuary.
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Chapter 3: The Night Visitor
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Nicolas sat perched on the edge of his bed, methodically sifting through the papers spread out before him. The gentle glow of the table lamp cast a warm, amber light across the dim confines of the aging motel room, illuminating his intent expression as he chewed thoughtfully on the end of his pencil.
With each date he recorded, a sense of somber purpose enveloped him, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. Beside him, his laptop lay dormant, its screen reflecting the faint light as a silent observer to his meticulous work.
Finally, with a decisive stroke, he withdrew the pencil from his mouth and carefully inscribed the last date, completing the tragic timeline of events that had plagued the town for decades.
According to his research, the earliest recorded attack traced back to 1854 when a group of gold miners failed to return to their families after venturing into the winter wilderness. While the bodies of four miners were eventually discovered, one remained missing, lost to the unforgiving landscape.
Subsequent to this grim event, a macabre pattern emerged, recurring like clockwork every decade. Each occurrence saw individuals vanishing into the depths of the forest, never to be seen again.
In the present day, the attacks had escalated in both frequency and brutality. Two lives had been claimed, another individual lay wounded, and numerous others had disappeared without a trace. Notably, the majority of the victims hailed from affluent backgrounds, likely descendants of the original gold miner families whose fortunes once flourished in these lands.
"Alright, Nick, let's recap: The attacks follow a distinct pattern, spanning a period of 170 years. The victims consistently show signs of heart removal, and the entity responsible likely resides within the woods," he murmured to himself, piecing together the puzzle of the town's dark history. "Perhaps it's a local deity, angered by neglect or the cessation of ancient rituals," he speculated, his thoughts drifting into the realm of myth and legend.
*knock
*knock
The abrupt sound shattered the quiet of the room.
"Detective Howl? Are you awake?" The soft voice seeped through the door.
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Nicolas let out a weary sigh as he approached the door, his steps heavy with apprehension. With a slow motion, he turned the handle and pulled it open, revealing Sophia standing on the other side, clutching a notepad and the old, dusty book.
"What is it?" he asked, his tone tinged with bitterness.
"I think I know what we're dealing with," Sophia replied, her voice heavy with dread.
"May I come in?" she requested.
With a reluctant nod, Nicolas stepped aside, allowing Sophia to enter his room. It mirrored her own across the hallway—small yet cozy. As she settled in, her eyes fell upon the notes Nicolas had hastily scribbled just minutes before. Setting down her notepad, she placed the ancient tome beside the evidence, inviting Nicolas to examine it.
Approaching the book, Nicolas's gaze fell upon a grotesque illustration adorning one of its pages. The creature depicted was chilling—a being with skin as pale as snow, elongated limbs ending in sharp claws, and eyes that seemed to swallow the darkness itself.
"You're joking, right?" he hissed incredulously.
"Atchen. A wendigo? I've never heard of any hunter encountering such a creature; it's just a myth!" he exclaimed, annoyance evident in his tone.
The seriousness on Sophia's face was palpable. "You know, two years ago, I would have said that vampires were just legends and myths," she replied, a hint of irony coloring her words.
"Fair point," he conceded.
"So, let's say there is a possibility that we're dealing with an ancient malevolent spirit that is possibly immortal. What exactly is our plan?" he asked, a touch of amusement in his voice.
Sophia flipped open her notepad, revealing a page brimming with notes. "According to my research, its weaknesses are fire and silver. The legend says that the Wendigo is born from hunger and greed. 'A man that eats the flesh of another man shall suffer the curse of the Atchen,'" she quoted.
"The gold miners...they were struck in an avalanche," Nicolas interjected. "One of them must have given in to the hunger, devouring his companions," he added silently.
"See? I told you, it all makes sense," Sophia remarked.
For a fleeting moment, Nicolas found himself entranced by the depth in Sophia's eyes, a magnetic pull drawing him closer. However, as he observed the fatigue etched beneath her eyes, he couldn't help but feel a pang of concern.
"She hasn't slept in ages," he surmised silently, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts. "Perhaps she's been consumed by her research. Maybe... just maybe, there's a glimmer of goodness in beings like her," he mused, entertaining the unsettling possibility.
But almost as quickly as the thought surfaced, he shook his head vehemently, banishing the notion from his mind. Such sentiments were dangerous, threatening to unravel the carefully constructed beliefs he held onto so tightly. With a determined resolve, he pushed aside any inklings of sympathy, refusing to entertain the idea that creatures like Sophia could possess any shred of goodness within them.
"I hope you're wrong... for everyone's sake," he said quietly. "We'll head to the woods after lunch. I need to gather some equipment before we step into the devil's den," he added.
“Good,” she replied. “I'll let you get some rest, detective,” she said as she headed to the door.
“No rest for the wicked, bloodsucker,” he replied, closing the door behind her.
As Nicolas settled into bed, his mind swirled with conflicting emotions. Despite his ingrained disdain for supernatural beings, he found himself drawn to Sophia in a way he couldn't quite comprehend. Her relentless dedication and genuine kindness had slowly chipped away at the walls he had built around his heart.
Reluctantly, he admitted to himself that he admired her hard work and appreciated her gentle nature, qualities that had gradually woven their way into his consciousness. Though he despised the notion, he couldn't deny the burgeoning feelings stirring within him.
As sleep began to claim him, Nicolas surrendered to the tumult of his thoughts, grappling with the unexpected affection he harbored for the woman who defied his preconceived notions. In the quiet depths of the night, he drifted into slumber, his dreams colored by the enigmatic presence of Sophia, a half-vampire who had unwittingly captured his attention.
ns 15.158.61.17da2
