Lighthouse Horror Podcast - I'm a SMALL TOWN COP in a Strange Town. These are My Stories | Scary Stories

Episode Date: October 31, 2024

You won't believe what I'm about to tell you... Scary Story by Ryan Peacock Check out more of the author's work here u/HeadOfSpectre Cover Art from Ninerio More of the artist’s works at ninerioarts                  Original YouTube link: I'm a SMALL TOWN COP in a Strange Town. These are My Stories.   Merch: lighthousehorror.shop For more stories like this one, check out my YouTube channel: Lighthouse Horror | YouTube  Patreon: Lighthouse Horror | Patreon Music: Lucas King - YouTube Myuu - YouTube  Incompetech Darren Curtis Music - YouTube  Thank you for listening to this scary story! If you enjoyed this new creepypasta story, please check out some of my other horror stories. We'll be uploading new episodes every week, featuring ghost stories, haunted encounters, mysteries, true stories, creepypasta, and anything supernatural and paranormal. Don't miss out on the thrill and suspense that await you in each episode!

I won't tell you the name of the town I live in, for reasons that will become clear later. It's better if I don't, but it's a nice little slice of country away from the major highways. There was a time, though, when it wasn't so nice. There was a time when this place attracted monsters. The worst monsters you can think of. And God willing. I hope they've learned not to mess with us, after what happened those years. years ago. We protect our own in this town. The forest is dense out here. There's a lot of farmland,

a few warehouses down by the river, and that's about it. I've been on this job for six years now. Can't say they've been the best six years of my life, but they sure as heck haven't been the worst either. We don't see a lot of violence. That's not to say we don't see any at all. It's just rare. Things are quiet here. Always have been. Sure, sometimes there's a little bit of drama, drugs, domestic violence, or a fender-bender, but those are special cases.

Most nights, the worst thing we'll have to deal with is some drunken bar fights that get a little too out of hand. And usually with those, we can just throw the guilty parties in the drunk tank for the night to let them cool off. That generally constitutes, and eventful night for us.

Otherwise, it's not particularly unusual to have a quiet day without any calls. You can never fully count on things being quiet, but sometimes they just are, and honestly, that suits me just fine. I like the quiet. It's why I moved to the middle of rural Ohio. There's seven of us in total,

working at the local department. myself, the sheriff, a daytime and nighttime receptionist and three other deputies. This town doesn't really need much more than that, even with the new additions. I have noticed over the past four years or so, we've had more than our fair share of newcomers, mostly folks working in some of the newer warehouses down by the river, although there's been a good number of new businesses popping up downtown, too. When I first moved here, the downtown area was all but dead with empty shops and boarded-up windows. Nowadays, there's new restaurants, a couple of new bars, even a couple of condominiums.

It's not a heck of a lot of growth, but it is growth. I've even been known to frequent a few of the new places. The Honeypot and Spaniel is a decent pub with good food and even better beer. Some of the old-timers don't like the fact that things are changing, but personally, I see it as a good thing. People are breathing some new life into this old town. How can't that be a good thing? And better yet, the newcomers don't really cause much trouble, so I really have nothing to complain about. They keep the peace, just like everyone else.

What more could I ask for? Now, once upon a time, I used to be more of a city boy. Not anymore. Now, my twenties are gone, and my thirties are on their way out, too. I've been married and widowed. I've served my country in the army. I've worked bigger cases in bigger cities, and nowadays I'm just tired. Not tired enough to just give up entirely.

But tired enough that I'm happy being. and a deputy with some small-town police force. I'm comfortable here, you know. In a lot of ways, I've been doing it for most of my life. Life in the Army and life with a badge aren't exactly the same, but there's a similar sense of purpose there, a sense that I'm doing something meaningful. I think that's what I need most.

Something to give me a reason to get out of bed every morning. Maybe it's the soldier in me. My drill instructor back in basic training had a saying, Soldiers keep moving. I guess I took that to heart. And honestly, if I wasn't doing this job, I don't really know what else I'd do with my time. Up until recently, I had my quiet.

I had a purpose. And up until recently, I was as close to content as I was ever likely to get. The calls come in at about 11 p.m. A lot of folks had noticed one heck of a big fire burning out around Joffrey Vickers' property, accompanied by a concerning amount of gunfire. Now, let me just make this clear.

I'm out in rural Ohio. We got folks shooting their guns off all the time on their own property. We usually don't have any problems with that. People are free to do as they please, so long as it's legal, and not disturbing the peace. But Vickers didn't even look like he'd ever fired a gun, let alone owned one. He was a scrawny guy with messy blonde hair, plastic-rimmed glasses, and an awkward smile. He worked in the office in one of the newly built warehouses as an IT guy or something like that. I'd seen him around a few times, usually at the honeypot and spaniel grabbing a drink.

But the handful of times that we'd actually spoken was when I'd taken some statements from him regarding a couple of brawls that had gotten out of hand at the honey pot. Plus the time I'd swung by his place while looking for a kid who'd gone missing. Turns out, the missing kid just wandered off to go fishing without telling their mom. So while gunshots on their own might not be suspicious, gunshots at Vickers' place absolutely were. I already had a bad feeling in my gut as I drove down the road to his place. The feeling that only got worse when I saw the fire, it was hard not to see it. Even in the darkness, you could see the ominous flickering glow from miles off.

The firefighters were in the middle trying to put it out, but it almost looked like a losing battle. The house had been all but fully consumed. There was no saving it. Fortunately, Vickers didn't seem like he'd been caught in the fire. Unfortunately, the man was still dead. I saw some of the neighbors standing close to a body, laying in the grass several yards from the house

as I pulled up. I could already see another cruiser on the scene and could make out the scrawny figure of Deputy Ethan Biggs with the neighbors on scene. I parked beside him and got out. I could feel the heat from the fire on my face the moment I opened the door and quietly walked over to Biggs.

He looked over at me, and beside him I could see the naked corpse of Geoffrey Vickers lying sprawled and bloody in the grass. Jesus, I said under my breath as I looked down at him. Yep, Biggs replied. He was a good ten years younger than I was, and looked like a strong breeze could snap him right into.

But he had guts. I'd always liked him for that. I've seen a lot of messes in my time, but this, where do we even start? He asked. I looked over to the neighbors who'd come to investigate. I recognized Sidney and Loretta Mason,

standing a few feet back, and old Brenda Roberts a few feet away from them. Biggs noticed me looking. Oh, I already talked to him. Mason's didn't see much, but Roberts did. He said, Yeah, you get her statement? I asked.

And Biggs got a bit of a peculiar look in his eye. Yeah, yeah, I did, he said. Something about his tone seemed off to me. Exasperated might be the word I was looking for. What's wrong? I asked. Not sure how much of what she said is actually going to help us, he replied. Yeah?

Why is that? I asked. Biggs just shook his head. Look, I don't even know where to start, okay? Honestly, you should just hear it firsthand. Don't worry, I've got the body covered, and I've already called the coroner, okay? I raised an eyebrow, wondering just what the hell old Mrs. Roberts had said to get that kind of a reaction out of him. I looked over towards her.

The old girl was ringing her. hands as she stared at the fire, which was still going strong. She tensed up a little bit as I approached. Evening, Brenda, I said. Deputy Biggs mentioned you might have seen something. I already told him what I saw, she said bitterly. I know, I know, but now I'm asking you to tell me. What, you think my story is going to change just because you're asking?

I saw what I saw. I'm sure he did, but I need to know what you saw, if we're going to better understand what happened to Mr. Vickers. Mrs. Roberts huffed. I already told Deputy Biggs, those men shot him. Which men? I asked. Oh, I didn't get a good look at him. Just heard the gunshots while I was out on the porch.

came by to check in and make sure everything was okay. I'll hear gunshots from the place down the road sometimes when Mr. Colson takes his boy out shooting. But Vickers wasn't the sort to do something like that. Didn't think I'd find this mess out here. She shook her head, and I gave her time to collect her thoughts before continuing. There were five, maybe six of them.

Like I said, I didn't get a good look at them. Just saw shadows by the fire. They were packing pea shooters, though. Those guns of theirs were automatic, and that thing they were shooting. She paused again. Thing. That thing, ma'am, I asked. An animal.

Least it looked like an animal. A bear, maybe. But it was bigger than any bear. I've ever seen in this area, and the silhouette wasn't right. Look more than like a coyote, come think of it. It was fast too agile. So these men were attacking this animal? I asked.

Yeah, kept charging at him. And they kept it surrounded and kept on shooting. Didn't take long for it to collapse. I'm sorry, they... killed it, I asked, before looking back through Vickers' yard. I would have thought I'd have noticed a dead bear lying out there. Mrs. Roberts just shook her head. The body's gone, idiot, she huffed.

It's just Vickers lying out there now. I paused, and then I looked back at her. Excuse me? As soon as the men left, I stayed in the woods and called you clowns. And when I looked back, the animal was gone and Vickers was lying there instead. The look on her face was dead serious, despite the absurdity of the claim she'd just made. Suddenly, I understood why Biggs had wanted me to get the story directly from her, if he'd been the one to tell me this.

I would have just told them to stop screwing her. around and tell me what she actually said. Oh, I see. Well, I'll go take a look at the body, then, I said, before quietly stepping aside to return to Biggs. I just heard her scoff at me as I left and returned to Biggs, who raised a knowing eyebrow at me. Yeah, I see your point, I said dryly. I figured you might. So what? So what? What actually killed him? I asked. It was hard to see in the firelight, but Vickers did look like he'd been shot. A lot. It was hard to figure out much about the caliber from the bullet wounds, but my gun told me that Mrs. Roberts' description of the killers using automatic weapons was probably true. Someone had clearly wanted this man dead. seemed like Biggs had already reached the same conclusion, too. Yeah, found some casings in the grass, he said.

If nothing else, Mrs. Roberts wasn't making up the part about the automatic rifles. Mason's described the gunfire as sounding similar, too. Right, right. So we get Mrs. Roberts back to the station, pick apart her story some more, I said. Then once that fires out, maybe we'll find something at the house. Maybe, Big said. Odds are this fire ate an accident. This feels...

He paused. It feels like a hit. I finished. Yeah. Yeah, that's it. You ever dealt with anything like this before? He asked. I stood up.

Well, you know, I've dealt with small-time gang violence, drive-by shooting, stuff like that. Something this extreme, though, I... I looked back at the burning house. The firefighters had finally started to get the inferno under control. No, I've never actually seen anything quite like this before. This is something brand new, I said. I could see the coroner's. car getting closer and saw Dr. Miller getting out. He took one look at the fire, and I saw his

expression darken with a quiet knowing. All right, let's photograph the scene, let the coroner take a look. Maybe he can fill in some gaps, I said. Biggs nodded, and we got to work. We were up for most of the night, getting everything we could from the crime scene, collecting every spent bullet-case. casing, going over both Mrs. Roberts and the Mason's statements with them down at the station, and looking for any sign of who might have been behind this attack. One of the small drawbacks to being a small-town cop is that there's not really other departments to handle other aspects of the job. When I worked in the city, there were.

Everybody specialized in something. property crimes, traffic, drugs, sex crimes, homicide, you name it. Small towns don't have that. We do everything. Which means that usually, if there's a case in town, it is mine from start to finish. The one exception to that is a homicide investigation. Those typically require a heck of a lot more manpower than a small department like ours has. Still, we tried to collect whatever evidence we could find

for whoever the state police sent out to investigate this. When the fire was out, we combed through the ruins. Biggs and I went over Vickers' property with a fine-tooth comb. But there wasn't all that much to find beyond the body and the casings. This job had been clean. it'd been quick and it'd been brutal. This felt almost military. Piecing together exactly what happened wasn't technically my job here,

but I still couldn't help but put the pieces together. The attackers had likely firebombed Vickers' house to draw him out. Then when the poor SOB fled his house to safety, they'd gunned him down in cold blood. Why? Who could say? Vickers didn't seem like the kind of man to bake enemies. But I guess I never really knew the man either. I can't imagine that anybody dies that bloody without any skeletons in their closet. Dr. Miller called us into his office around 1 p.m. the next day.

Biggs and I arrived a little early, and we found ourselves waiting for him in his office. Dr. Miller's office was a bit of a mess, but dripping with personality. Drawings from his kids decorated one wall, alongside a couple of medals as a fellow veteran. Above those drawings hung a simple crucifix, a declaration of faith, despite his morbid profession. About five minutes after we'd come in and sat down, Dr. Miller himself, walked in to join us. He was a somewhat heavyset man with a usually cheerful demeanor. He and I usually didn't have much of an opportunity to interact. Mostly, I only ever saw him when one of the old-timers passed, or when some idiot got themselves killed trying to win a Darwin award.

When he came through the door, though, he looked a lot more down than usual. I could hardly blame him, given what he'd just seen. I suppose it's a little late to ask if he'll live, huh, Doc? Biggs asked. Dr. Miller looked unimpressed, and Biggs just murmured a quiet, sorry. It's a hell of an interesting case you've dropped in my lap, boys. He said. Haven't seen wounds like this since my army days.

I don't suppose I need to tell you the obvious. We all know how he died, and there's nothing in the autopsy that suggests otherwise. That's not why I called you two here. Then what is? I asked. There's something else about the body. I think you two should see. Dr. Miller gestured for us to follow him, and let us out to where Vickers' body sat. on the autopsy table.

He'd been cut open, and I noticed Biggs flinching at the sight of him. Dr. Miller barely even noticed. He just stood over the body. I've noticed a number of unusual attributes with this body. Things that don't make sense. Take a look at this, for example. He gestured to some strange marks on Vickers' ribcage. Healed fractures.

But look at them. They're consistent. All along his ribs. He traced one gloved finger along a bit of exposed rib, and I could see them. Discolarations in the bone, in a spiral pattern along his ribs. It almost looked like they'd come apart like that before. Okay. What exactly does that mean?

I asked. Well, I'm not sure. I've never seen anything like this before. He began. It's almost like, like his bones were breaking regularly and reforming. But that shouldn't be possible. It isn't, Big said.

Has to be something else. Maybe he's got some sort of medical condition. Yeah. Yes, yes, that's what I thought, too. But I've gone through Vickers' medical history. There's nothing in there that explains this. Nothing. This right here, this makes no sense to me. I mean, I've never heard of anything that does this to a person's skeleton. I've done some x-rays. It's not just his ribs. It's everything. He has evidence of these fractures on every bone in his body. It's like he reshaped his skeleton.

Biggs and I just stared at him. Uneasy. Reshaped his skeleton, I repeated. Well, I don't have a better way to describe it. But in order to have fractures like that, his bones would have needed to basically be coming apart regularly. Biggs frowned, staring down at the body. I saw his brow furrow.

I could almost see the gears in his head turning. Okay, let's say his bones were doing that, he said. I mean, what would that even look like? What would he look like if that's what was happening? I can't even begin to speculate, Dr. Miller said. Well, were there any other irregularities? on his body? Biggs asked. Countless, actually.

His lungs and heart have similar scar tissue, although it's not as prominent. I've noticed some in his muscles as well, although nothing on his skin, oddly enough. His skin is just about the only part of him that isn't heavily scarred, save for the bullet wounds, I suppose. Biggs nodded thoughtfully. I've made a few calls, sent some photos of the x-rays to some colleagues, but I'm not expecting much back. I'll keep digging into his medical history, looking for an answer, but no promises. Well, thanks anyway, I said, you'll keep us informed on what else you find, Dr. Miller, right? Yes, yes.

asked. The moment I learned something new, you'll be the first ones I call. He said before pausing. I have to ask, off the record. I don't imagine you boys have figured out why he was killed yet, did you? That's a question for the state police to answer. I said, right, right. Well, I can only really speculate based on what I can. I can only really speculate based on what I see here, but with scarring this unnatural. I'd be inclined to wonder if there was some kind of connection. Connection, Dr. Miller, I asked. I was an army, Doc, Deputy Sawyer. This isn't the first time I've seen what Hollow Point rounds can do to a body. I've also lived in this town long enough to know that nobody here is packing that kind of firepower.

Like I said, this is off the record. But whoever killed Vickers probably wasn't local. I don't know what kind of life he lived before all this, but I can't imagine there's no connection between his scarring and his manner of death. Dr. Miller shrugged. Well, just food for thought. As Biggs and I left the morgue, I noticed a thoughtful look on his face.

Somehow. I already knew what he was thinking. No, I said, as bluntly as I could. What do you mean no? Biggs asked. I mean no. I know what you're thinking, and it's stupid. Rick, if all the evidence is pointing in one direction,

maybe we've got to open ourselves up to the possibility. I would. I interrupted, if the possibility wasn't ridiculous. Okay, look, Mrs. Roberts said she saw a large animal in Vickers' yard, an animal that our gunmen shot and killed. Only when she looked at the body, it wasn't an animal, it was Vickers. Now, I know the old lady is a little out of it, but she's not completely insane. You and I both talked to her. We both grilled her.

Her story didn't change. And now this? It's scar tissue, I said. Doesn't prove anything. Old fractures on his bones that Dr. Miller can't explain, he said. Okay, Dr. Miller is a small town coroner, Biggs. I like the man. Honest to God, I do.

He's a good man. But he's not exactly a leading medical authority. Well, he knows a hell of a lot more about this stuff than you or I do. I know this sounds impossible, Rick. I know it does. But when are we just going to up and say it? He asked, it's impossible, I said. Okay, then explain to me why it's looking more and more like Joffrey Vickers was a werewolf.

I shook my head in disbelief. Go on. Make this all make sense. Give me some other logical answer. Please. He said. Okay. Okay. Let's just, let's calm down. I said. I get it. Okay. Right now, none of this makes a whole lot of sense. But let's not start going off half-cocked and jump into conclusions, okay? This ain't really even our case to solve.

Homicides go to the state police And when they come to take this case off our hands We're just going to give them the facts that we have Okay We're going to give them the testimony We're going to give them Dr. Miller's findings And we're going to go Ha ha this one's weird isn't it

Then we're going to let them get to the bottom of us And when they do There's going to be an explanation That's a whole hell of a lot more logical then werewolves, okay? You got that? Biggs paused for a moment, before he nodded. He still had a look on his face that was hard to describe.

Look, it's been a long day, Biggs. Your shift's almost over, isn't it? Yeah, it is, he replied. All right, look, why don't you go home and get some rest? I'll keep an eye on things, okay? He nodded and then sighed. Yeah, yeah, maybe. Haven't slept since way before we got the Vickers call, he said.

Exactly. So go and rest. What about you? He asked, raising an eyebrow at me. I haven't been on shift as long. I can hold out for a few more hours with some coffee in me. Don't worry, okay? Biggs nodded again, and after a moment he patted me on the shoulder.

All right. You'll call me if anything comes up, though, right? Naturally. Now go home and sleep. He turned and walked back to his cruiser, and I could see the tension in his shoulders as he did. The man looked beyond exhausted. Honestly, I couldn't blame him. I was dead tired, too. After the mess that was the Vickers case, I was at least expecting the rest of the day

to go by quietly. For the most part, it did. I spent the rest of my shift, compiling a full report for whoever the state police sent to look into Vickers' death. When 5 p.m. rolled around, I was just about ready to finally call it a day. While technically,

I'd only really been on shift since around seven that morning. The Vickers' call had taken priority. So really, I'd been working since 11 last night. My head was throbbing, and I desperately needed some sleep. All I could think about was going home, crashing into my bed and passing out. All I needed to do was finish up a bit of filing, and then the second call came in. Gunshots on the south side of town. Automatic rifles, just like with the Vickers case.

Well, sleep was going to need to wait. This came first. I was out in my cruiser the moment we got the call, speeding towards the address the callers had given us. I didn't know the residents of that house well. We'd never been formally introduced. I knew they were fairly new in town, though. That house had only been built about a year ago, and they'd bought it before it had even finished being built.

Unlike with Vickers, this house hadn't been burned. Actually, I'd say things looked almost peaceful as I drove up the gravel driveway. A quaint rustic mailbox identifying the family that owned the place as the rustles sat at the spot where the driveway met the road. I didn't see any signs of life as I parked my cruiser and got out. Slowly I drew my pistol, and I watched a house carefully. There were lights on inside, and the door was slightly open. I checked my cruiser radio. Dispatch, how long until back up?

Deputy Lopez is 20 minutes out, Sawyer. We've also gotten Biggs and Sheriff Smith, no ETA on them yet. The voice said. Twenty minutes. Not ideal. If there were people wounded in there, they'd all be dead by then. I swore under my breath. I'm going inside to have a look around. No sign of suspects on premises, I said.

I didn't wait for dispatch to reply before I started towards the door. I moved slowly, uneasily. I kept my gun raised as I reached the front door and pushed it open. I was greeted by a house that looked like it had been turned upside down and shaken. There'd been a fight in here. There'd been one hell of a fight. I crept into the foyer, gun raised, as I listened for signs of life. Nothing.

I noticed blood stains on the ground leading into the kitchen. I followed them, hesitating, before I passed through the doorway. Hello, I called. This is Deputy Rick Sawyer. No answer. The mess in the kitchen was even worse. There had clearly been some kind of fight. There was a large pool of blood forming from behind the counter.

I ran to investigate. Slumped on the kitchen floor was the body of a man. He seemed to be in his forties, with pale skin and graying hair. He was dressed in a suit and appeared to have been shot several times. I still checked his pulse, hoping that there was a slight chance he might be alive, but I found nothing. Another victim. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed empty bullet casings on the ground and reached out to pick one up.

They were the same kind, just like the ones at Vickers Place. I looked behind me and stood up, reaching for my radio. Dispatch, we have one body on the scene, male early to mid-forties. I heard a creek behind me then, and I turned to a. around raising my gun. I could see a door leading to the basement that looked like it'd been splintered. There was a lot of blood on the floor nearby. Blood that was awfully far away from the body I'd found. Hello? I called again and took a few steps towards the basement door. I stepped over the wreckage and looked down the stairs of the basement.

I could see some blood on the stairs, but not much. Hello? I started to creep down the stairs, only to pause when I heard movement. The basement was unfinished, but there was a light on in some other room. And then I saw a shadow moving past. I'm with the local police. It's Deputy Rick Sawyer, I called. No response. I took a moment weighing my options.

Going down alone was reckless. Someone was clearly down here. Could be a survivor, though. They could be hurt. It was dangerous, yes. But waiting for backup might not be the right call. My gut told me that whoever the gunmen were, they were gone now.

odds are they weren't going to hang around in a basement waiting for the cops to show up. I took another step down the stairs. I'm coming down, I warned as I made my way onto the cold, concrete floor. I heard movement. Footsteps. I followed the sound. I entered the next room just in time to see a dark-haired woman running through. through another door.

Wait, that cold, trying to go after her. Whoever she was, she didn't make it far. She cornered herself in the next room and turned back to me with a look of panic. I could hear her frantic breathing, see the terror in her eyes, and see the wet blood running from her mouth down her dress. No, no, get away. she said. Ma'am, ma'am, it's okay, I'm here to help, I tried to say.

But she spotted an opening to my left, and she made a dash for it. I grabbed her trying to stop her from fleeing. And I think that was the biggest mistake I could have made. Because what happened next, what happened next is on me. I'm not going to pretend that it was. I should have handled things differently. I should have realized that what I was doing was a mistake. But in the heat of the moment, I didn't think. I thought that woman was injured. I knew she was scared. But I grabbed her anyways, and it ruined everything. She screamed in panic, fighting against me.

She was a hell of a lot stronger than she looked. With a way she fought, I was almost sure that she was going to break my arms. But I held her tight trying to calm her down. As soon as it became clear to her that she wasn't going to break out of my grasp, she turned on me. I only caught a glimpse of her fangs as she opened her mouth, but that momentary glimpse was all I needed. It was like the few seconds you experienced right before a near car accident.

Everything seemed to happen so fast and so slow at the same time. When she opened her mouth, I could see that her teeth weren't normal. Her canines seemed longer, more prominent. Her eyes looked... animalistic. And that's when I realized that the blood on her dress wasn't hers. It belonged to the last idiot who tried to grab her. She lunged for me, sinking her fangs into my throat. I cried out in pain as she forced me to the ground. The bite radiated, a white-hot pain that was hard to describe. I could feel my blood.

Gushing into her mouth as she slammed me to the ground. For a moment, I felt her hesitate, saw her swallow the blood in her mouth. For a moment, I saw a flicker in her eyes, a silent question as to whether she wanted more or not. But instead she pulled back, using her unusual strength, she ripped the gun from my hands. I tried to speak, tried to cry out to her, but she was already running again. I pressed a hand to the wound on my neck and tried to stand, only for my legs to buckle under me. She was gone. I could hear her running up the stairs.

I heard her feet pounding on the floor above me as she tried to make a break for freedom. Then I heard the gunshot. It came so suddenly, echoing through the house. The final thud of a body collapsing to the ground. It was Lopez who'd shot her, Lopez who also found me down in that basement. He told me that he'd seen the bloody woman come running out of the kitchen. He'd seen the gun in her hand, and he'd reacted,

thinking it was life or death. She'd gone down in one shot and that was that. We later identified her as Patricia Russell, the wife of the dead man in the kitchen, Hank Russell. And if she was Patricia Russell, that meant that we just killed our only witness. A witness who'd just bit my neck like a vampire. A witness who'd had fangs. like a vampire. I didn't want to believe that. The idea still seemed completely impossible. I wanted to believe that there was a more logical explanation. I mean, there had to be. The more

sensible side of my brain knew that. But the more sensible side of my brain could not explain what I'd just seen, and it couldn't explain the state of Vickers' body either. Biggs' words echoed through my mind. If all the evidence is pointing in this one direction, maybe we've got to open ourselves up to the possibility. I didn't want to open myself up to the possibility. I wanted there to be another answer. Hell, there probably was another one.

There had to be. But there's only so much evidence a man can ignore before he has to at least admit that sometimes impossible things just might be true. How's your neck healing up, Sawyer? Dr. Miller asked as I walked into the morgue. That's fine. I said, still a little sore, but I'll live. It'd been a solid 14 hours since my run-in with Patricia Russell at that point.

I'd been to the doctor, got my neck all patched up, and got myself a cool. clean bill of health before going home and sleeping off the night I just had. Sleep did not make me feel better. I still kept hearing that gunshot echoing through my mind. I kept hearing the final thud of her body as it hit the ground. I kept wondering what I could have done differently, what I should have done differently, if I should have done anything differently.

Sure, she'd given me one hell of a bite and stolen my gun. I'd given serious consideration to the fact that she hadn't even been human. But she'd probably also just watched her husband get murdered. She'd probably just barely escaped a group of men who were about to do the same to her. Of course she wasn't going to trust a stranger with a gun who'd started chasing her. Didn't matter how many times I called my name out. Why the hell would she believe it? We'd never even met before.

I was just another man with a gun coming right after her. Anyone would have panicked. Anyone would have defended themselves. And that's exactly what she did. Defend herself. I would have done the same. Although if positions were reversed, would I have let her live? Would I have just subdued her, taken the gun, and ran?

She could have killed me. Even if she was fully human, I had no doubt in my mind that, yes, she could have killed me easily. But she didn't. For some reason, she just chose to take me down, disarm me, and run. She could have killed me. She had that choice. She had the ability, but she didn't. I couldn't help but wonder if it was my fault that she'd ended up dead. I couldn't help but think about how I could have handled this differently, and maybe if I did. I could have saved her. We could have had a witness. She could have helped us understand what the hell was going on here.

But most importantly, she could have been alive. Instead, she was sitting lifeless in the morgue. An incision in her chest where Dr. Miller had performed his autopsy. I presume you're here to ask about the body, Dr. Miller said. There was a knowing tone in his voice. Yeah, if you're at liberty to share anything with me, I replied. Well, nobody from the state police has shown up yet, so right now this is still a local matter. Ask away.

I looked down at Patricia Russell's body, my stomach turning a bit. Were there any irregularities with her? Anything like what you saw with Vickers, I asked. Not like what I saw with Vickers, no. Dr. Miller began. No, Mr. and Mrs. Russell had a whole new set of irregularities. Both of them, I asked. Dr. Miller nodded.

He put on a pair of gloves and reached for Mrs. Russell's mouth. He parted her lips, showing me the same fangs that I'd seen that night, the fangs that had bid into me. I suppose we should start with the obvious. The teeth. "'Naturally,' I replied. "'Now they're interesting, to say the least. "'Both Mrs. Russell and her husband had very prominent canines.

"'Their jaw muscles were also fairly developed, too. "'Abnormally so. "'I can only imagine that it hurt like hell when she bit you.' "'You have no idea,' I replied. Now, did Dr. Peters at the clinic mention anything abnormal about the bite? He asked. Specifically with the bleeding. Well, the bleeding was pretty bad, I admitted.

Wound wasn't that deep, but it was bad. Oh, I thought it might be. There's something about the saliva that acts as an anticoagulant. I'd need to bring it to someone with a little more. experience in these things, but it reminds me of some things I read about the saliva of vampire bats. That, of course, there's the other abnormalities with the body, the blood especially. It's different than regular human blood. I'm not entirely sure how to describe it.

I'm sorry, regular human blood. I asked, already knowing where this question would lead. Yes, Dr. Miller said, his voice dead serious. Mr. and Mrs. Russell both have a physiology that's nearly human, but there's still so much different about them. So many little things that are just, well, wrong. I'm not entirely sure that either of them are human. Vampires, I said softly.

Dr. Miller didn't respond for a moment. I'll need to continue examining the bodies. See if I can't find another explanation, but there's a saying I've heard a lot of other doctors throw around. When you hear hoofbeats, Think horses, not zebras. And what's that mean? I asked. Well, it means that you should usually look for a common and more likely diagnosis before considering something more obscure.

I've looked at these bodies. I've looked at Vickers. I've heard about what Mrs. Roberts saw, and I can see that. that bandage on your neck clear as day. I unconsciously touched the bandage. Vampire and werewolf aren't exactly medical diagnoses. I've looked at those bodies over and over again. I've reached out to colleagues looking for answers, and all I've come up with are dead ends.

Right now, I don't. don't have any other answers that make sense to me. Vampires and werewolves, though. Come on, Dr. Miller. He looked over at me. Look, I'm struggling to accept it, too, Sawyer. I really am. If there's another less insane answer out there,

I would love to hear it. But nothing else about these bodies makes sense. Nothing about them adds up. Believe me, I am not looking you in the eye and telling you that in my professional medical opinion, Hank and Patricia Russell may have been vampires lightly. But what other explanation is there? Even Vickers. His bones had evidence of some kind of drastic fracturing.

Fracturing that makes zero sense, unless his entire body was ongoing some sort of regular, radical metamorphosis. I do not take these things lightly, Sawyer, but I have nothing else. Okay, but what about their cause of death? I asked. I thought werewolves and vampires were only supposed to be able to be killed in a certain way. You know, steak to the heart,

silver bullets, decapitation, something like that. Hell, I got bit by Mrs. Russell. Is that mean I'm supposed to turn into a vampire too? Because I got a clean bill of hell from Dr. Peters. Pretty sure I'm not going to be growing fangs anytime soon.

That's reassuring, Dr. Miller said. But my point is, what applies in folklore and superstition might not apply to actual specimens. How many superstitions are out there that we both know are blatantly stupid? Black cats, broken mirrors, stepping on a crack. How many old folk stories are out there that, Everyone knows are just that. Stories. Let's say that this is exactly what it looks like.

Let's say that Vickers was a werewolf. Let's say the Rassels were vampires. Why would you assume that the folklore about them would be any more true? I didn't have an answer for that. Dr. Miller sighed as he stared at May. Did you know the Lochness monster has a scientific name? How many people have gone out looking for that thing? Nobody's ever found it, but it still has a scientific name.

They still treat it like it's real. Same with Sasquatch. People have always wanted. wanted to believe in the unbelievable, either out of a desire to know the unknown, or a desire to fight it. Almost every culture has legends of the supernatural. Legends that all sound awfully similar when you look at them side by side. Undead bloodsuckers, people who can turn into beast, mermaids, goblin.

How many graves have been found in old towns, with bodies butchered and held in place by weapons? Because the locals believe the dead to be a vampire. Nowadays we consider such things to be a silly superstition, but these beliefs had to come from somewhere, now didn't they? I suppose they did. I said quietly. Maybe there's another explanation for all this. Something we're not seeing. Maybe.

But right now, going back and forth on the matter isn't going to accomplish anything. All we can do is move forward. Clearly these people were targeted for a reason. Hank Russell was killed with the same caliber But arounds is draw-free vickers. Yeah, figured, I said. Odds are it was the same shooters. First a werewolf, then vampires.

What next? Dr. Miller said quietly. I wasn't sure I was ready for the answer. Sawyer, someone from the state police is here for you. I looked up from the papers on my desk to see Kristen, our day receptionist standing over me. I nodded. Yeah, son him right over, I said, reaching for the file I'd put together on both the vickers and wrestle cases. Kristen turned to leave, and I heard her speak to someone in the next room. He's just at his desk, ma'am, go on in.

Whoever she was speaking to didn't reply, and I looked back to see a woman walking into the office. She was tall and pale with a slim figure. Her long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail and aviator sunglasses that reflected my face. She moved in a slow, almost methodical way that reminded me a little bit of a skulking cat. There was something familiar in the way she carried herself. Even behind her aviator glasses, I could see something in her, that I recognized. A fellow veteran, most likely.

I stood up to greet her, offering her a hand to shake. Good morning. You must be from State Police, huh? I was called in, she replied. Her voice was calm and level. Clementine de Cesarie. I handle special cases such as this one. Special cases, I asked. So I guess someone's are.

already gone over the more interesting aspects of this case with you. Yes, I've been briefed, she said. I'm here for the hard copies of the files you've been putting together and to debrief you. You were on the scene for both attacks, so I'd like to go over everything you saw, heard, and did. Well, I see. You know, call in Biggs and Lopez, too? They were on the scene as well. I replied.

And Dr. Miller in time, she said. I prefer to start with the largest projects first. You were at both scenes and you've spoken with Dr. Miller extensively. Therefore, you're first on my list. Right, right, fair enough. I replied quietly. Do you perhaps have somewhere more private we could talk? She asked.

Yeah, sure, we have an interview room in the back. We can go there. I'll make sure nobody comes in, I said. I grabbed the files off my desk and gestured for her to follow me as I led her over to the interview room. You want any coffee or anything? I asked. Can't say what we brew here is good, but it's caffeine. Yes, thank you, two sugars, please, she replied. I nodded and handed the files over to her as I went.

to get us some coffee. She'd mostly settled into the interview room when I got back. I saw that she'd set a recording device on the table. Thank you, Deputy Sawyer. She took the coffee from me and took a long sip. Yeah, you can just call me Sawyer, I said, before sitting down across from her. She set her mug down, and for a moment, while her lips were still parted, I noticed something.

It was hard to get a good look at it, but I thought I saw a glimpse of her teeth. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to begin, she said. Let's start with Joffrey Vickers. In your own words, I want you to recount that night in full detail, every single thing you remember. As she spoke, I watched her lips. I thought I could see long, canine teeth in her mouth, just like the ones Patricia had.

She didn't seem to notice me staring at her, or if she did, she didn't say anything. After a while, I found my voice and began to recount everything I'd seen during the night that Joffrey Vickers had been killed. We spoke for the better part of an hour. She asked her questions and went through every detail I could give her with a fine-tooth comb. When we were done with Vickers, we moved on to the Russell's. Just like before, she asked her questions, picked through everything with me. I answered every question I could, trying not to stare at her mouth. Trying not to look closer at those teeth.

It couldn't be possible. This woman couldn't pee a vampire. I mean, if vampires were real, she'd walked into the station in broad daylight. Vampires couldn't do that, could they? In the two-way mirror of the interrogation room, I could see her reflection. But did that really mean anything? Dr. Miller had said that folklore might not apply to the real things. Patricia and her husband had been killed by regular bullets.

My God, what was I doing? Believing that there were real vampires, come on. But what other explanations were there? Near the end of our debrief about the Russell's, she thumbed through the folder I'd given her. I see a coroner's report in here, she noted. Have you reviewed this yet? Well, I spoke with Dr. Miller about it at length this morning, I said softly.

Ah, I see. And did Dr. Miller bring up any concerns about the bodies with you? Yes, several. They're all in the report, I replied. Yes, but for the record, can you quickly, go through them with me? I nodded and took a deep breath. Okay, well, Dr. Miller described Mr. and Mrs. Russell as being

nearly human. He said that there was too much out of place with them, too much that he couldn't explain. Strictly, off the record, he said the word vampire. I watched to see how she might react to that word, but there was no reaction at all. I see, was that all? She asked. Well, more or less. What do you think?

Think about what? She didn't even look up from the report as she said that. The abnormalities in Dr. Miller's autopsy report. You said you'd been. en-briefed, right? I asked. Yes, I'll draw my conclusions after I've debriefed Dr. Miller and examined the bodies myself, she said, before putting her papers back in the folder. That's all the questions I had, Deputy Sawyer. Thank you for the time.

Yeah, yeah, of course. Is there anything else you need from me? I asked. Yes, please inform Deputy Biggs I'm ready for us. My expectation is that both he and Deputy Lopez should have arrived by now. Right. Yeah, I'll find him for you. I said before getting up. As far as I could tell, she didn't even look at me. She just finished off her coffee and waited for Biggs. It didn't exactly take me long to find the man himself. He was waiting at his desk, working on a report for some other case.

He didn't even notice me. until I came up behind him and gave him a tap on the shoulder. You're up, I said. Right now? He asked. Right now, I replied. Ah, great. He sighed, pushed his papers to the side, then got up. All right, be honest with me. What should I expect? Never really dealt with any cases like this before, so.

It'll be fun. I said. She's just going over the details of the last few cases. I said and sent him on his way. Biggs nodded and headed on over to the interview room while I went back to my own desk. I just barely sat down when I heard a voice behind me. So I guess the stay police finally got someone over to look into the Vickers and wrestle cases, huh? I look back to.

To see an older man with short graying hair, a salt and pepper scruff, an intense eyes staring back at me. In my experience, Sheriff Dominic Smith was a man of few words. I didn't recall ever having a conversation with him outside of work. But he was a good cop who wore his badge proudly on his chest. Like me, he was an old soldier and he still looked apart. I guess old soldiers never really stopped being one, do they? He had an impressive physique for a man his age.

His nose was crooked and malformed from some old fights he'd gotten into way back in his heyday. Afternoon, Sheriff, I said. Don't suppose you've had a chance to meet with her yet. Not yet, he replied. But I'll make time for a chat with her later. Yeah, that might be inevitable, boss. She's probably going to bring everyone in today. Lopez is probably next.

Then I'd imagine it's yours and Hoffman's turn. Oh, I doubt she'll be talking to Hoffman. He's still cleaning up from that fentanyl bust from last week. He hasn't touched either of these cases, the sheriff said. Still, glad we got someone here at least. You know, I've worked in this county for over 25 years. Never seen a single homicide. You believe that?

Then suddenly we got two of them. One right after the other. When it rains, it pours, doesn't it? Yeah, no kidding. I said. Well, God willing, this Clementine lady will clean this whole mess up quickly. "'God willing,' the sheriff replied tonelessly. "'Although I caught him staring thoughtfully at the interview room.

"'Clementine,' you said, "'that her name?' "'There was something about the way he said that, "'as if he recognized it. "'Yeah, why you know her?' I asked. "'No, but my dude bit of snooping. "'See who we're dealing with.' Keep a close honor.

I get that this is her case now, but let's not take our hands off the wheel just yet, okay? Why not? I asked. If it's her case, why shouldn't we let her run with it? Just call it a hunch, the sheriff said. Now don't get in her way or anything, but don't be too trusting neither. You get what I'm saying? I think I did, and I gave him a slow nod. You got it, boss.

Heady boy, take care now, Sawyer. With that, Sheriff Smith went for coffee. I wish I could say I was surprised when we got our third call about an attack that evening. I really wish I could. But there had been a part of me that had been expecting it by that point. Dreading it almost. The last two nights. The attacks had come almost like clockwork, even with Clementine's arrival.

I had no reason to believe that tonight was going to be different. I had hoped it would be. But hope doesn't stop people from dying. Although with that sad, maybe it wouldn't be completely sincere to say that there was nothing different about this attack. There was still an attack, sure. But there was something different about this one. The last two attacks had been carried out in the victim's homes. These two had been shot in the middle of a bar, the Red Rooster.

There were witnesses this time. Actual witnesses. From what I'd heard, we'd gotten a flurry of calls in a panic immediately after the incident. I was off duty when they came in. but during an emergency, doesn't really matter if you're off duty. If you're close, you are the first one to respond. I'd been grabbing a bite at the honeypot and spaniel down the street when the call came in.

The moment I got it, I was out of my seat and sprinting to the scene. The bartender, a rough-looking guy named Jack Dixon, didn't try to stop me. He and I weren't exactly close friends, but he knew why I had to be. had to go. Now, the Red Rooster was a cozy little dive right by the bridge. Wasn't exactly the nicest place. I might actually go so far as to call it seedy on account of its, well, reputation. Over the years, I'd broken up way too many brawls in there that had started over some girl.

We'd gotten enough calls from the Red Rooster that they'd actually installed a couple of security cameras The owners hoped it might discourage future fights. It didn't. I'd never really been inside unless I was on duty before, but I had seen worse places. Despite its reputation, I never would have expected anyone to actually die there, but I guess someone really wanted to prove me wrong.

The place was in utter chaos when I came in, Although as chaos went, it was mostly silent. People were staring down at the bodies, not sure what to do. On their faces, I could see mixtures of horror, disbelieve, and uncertainty. It gave a surreal atmosphere to the bar, turning such a crowded place into something liminal. Nobody seemed to know what to feel. Nobody seemed to know what to do. People barely even seemed to breathe.

The bartender had left his post and was trying to keep people away from the bodies, though he didn't have to do much. The rooster was small enough that those who gawked could see the dead without leaving their seats. The moment the bartender saw me, I could see a palpable look of relief cross his face. Hope, maybe. Deputy Sawyer right here, he called, waving me over. I ran to his side. As I got closer, I laid eyes on the two dead women waiting for me.

The first woman looked to be in her late 30s or early 40s. I didn't recognize her face and didn't recall ever seeing her around before. She had elegant features and long black hair. She was dressed in a low-cut, sultry, violet cocktail dress. Just looking at her, I could tell she was already gone. The three bullet holes in her chest leaked blood, and it was clear she wasn't breathing. Her eyes were open and had a glassy look to him.

Her lips were slightly parted, as if she was gasping in, surprise. I didn't bother checking her pulse and immediately went to examine the other girl. She looked a bit younger, with fiery red hair, and a small doll-like face with a tiny nose. I checked her pulse, and I found the faint flutter of a heartbeat. She was alive. Immediately, I rolled her onto her back, putting pressure on the warm. wound in her chest. As far as I could see through her shirt, she looked to only have one gunshot wound and it was bleeding pretty bad. Her breathing was shallow, almost non-existent. There was a good chance she wasn't going to make it, but I'd be damned if I'd let this girl go without a fight.

I need someone to call an ambulance immediately, I called. I looked over at the bartender. give me a first aid kit, I write something, anything, I need to stop the bleeding. He nodded, running back behind the bar to grab it for me. He found it and tore it open. While he did that, I reached into my pocket for a knife. Maybe it wasn't the most decent thing to do, but I had to get a better look at the wound.

I cut her shirt open, tearing it apart. When I did, I saw a second wound lower on her body. This one was just above her stomach. It wasn't the only thing I noticed either. I suppose I should have known that there'd be something unexplainable about this woman. The last two victims had something unexplainable about them. Vickers at his fractures, the rustles, the rustles had their fangs, small things that were difficult, if not impossible to notice,

things that might even be explained away relatively easily. But there was no explaining away what I saw under this girl's shirt. There was no logical explanation for any of it. On both sides of her body, right along her ribs, I could see three slits in her flesh, slits that were just open enough for me to see the deep red, feathered gills inside. I don't know if the others in the bar saw him.

Her torso was covered in blood, which would have probably made them harder to spot from that distance. But I could see him. I could see him clear as day. And they only confirmed a truth I didn't know how to accept. The girl bleeding out beneath me wasn't human. I didn't know what she was, but she wasn't human. Gauze.

The bartender's voice tore me away from my thoughts, and I looked up to see him offering me a roll of gauze. I grabbed it without thinking. My body almost on autopilot, as I forced it down under her wounds to try and stop the bleeding. Human or not, I was still going to try and save this girl's life. I had to. Behind me, I heard the door opening again,

and I looked back to see Lopez coming into the bar. The moment he saw the two dead girls, I saw a quiet look of horror fill his eyes. I hadn't seen her talked to Noah Lopez. Lopez, since before last night, when he'd shot Patricia Russell dead. Lopez was a lot of things, but he'd never really struck me as a killer. Part of me was surprised to see him back on active duty already. Judging by the look in his eyes, he was not ready for it.

The moment he saw the bodies, he froze up like a deer in the headlines. It wasn't until I called his name that he seemed to come back to. reality. Lopez helped me. He stared at me for a moment, as if he didn't recognize his own name before suddenly coming to my side. Help me keep pressure on the wound, all right?

I said, before looking up at the bartender. Tell me somebody's called a paramedic. Yeah, they're on their way, he said, voice cracking a bit as he stood over us. holding the first aid kit. We stayed like that for the better part of the next ten minutes, trying to stop the bleeding as we waited for the ambulance to arrive. Eventually it did.

As soon as they came through the door, everything that happened next was a blur. Lopez and I let the paramedics take over, watching as they tried to stabilize her. I answered the few questions they asked me as they worked. My hands were covered in blood by then. I could hear my own heart pounding in my ears. The moment I stepped back from the wounded girl,

my legs felt like jelly, threatening to not support my weight any longer. Beside me, Lopez looked as if he was about to throw up and only seemed to be just barely holding it in. I looked over at him, before reaching out to put a hand on a shirt, shoulder. You good? I asked, trying to sound strong. He didn't respond. He just watched as the paramedics loaded the girl onto a stretcher and wheeled her out to the ambulance. They didn't touch the other woman.

Not yet at least. I snapped my fingers in front of Lopez's face, trying to bring him back to reality. I gave him a light pat on the cheek to get his attention. He looked over at me. His expression still far away and vacant. He wasn't going to be much help right now. Lopez, start with the statements, okay? Can you do that for me? Let's get a clear picture of what happened, okay?

He nodded slowly. Right, right. He said, statements. I could see him returning to the present. He finally got up and started to get his bearings. While he focused on that, I turned back over towards the bartender. Security cameras. They still running? Yeah, he said quietly.

Yeah, yeah, they are. Show me the footage. He nodded and led me toward a back room. He still looked pretty shaken, and I couldn't really blame him one bit for that. The back office was small and cramped, but it suited the rooster just fine. There was a closed laptop on the desk, and the bartender opened it up for me. He opened up an app, and I was greeted to the current views from all four security cameras inside the rooster. On them, I could see Lopez talking with some of the witnesses, just like I'd asked him to do.

These cameras are recording, right? I asked. Yes, sir, he nodded at me. Good. I'm going to need a copy of the files from tonight. Yeah, yeah, of course, sure thing, he replied. I watched the bartender fumble through the desk for a spare USB drive. He found one and plugged it into the computer, clearing out and, any old files on it, before copying the video files from tonight onto it. In the back of my mind, a little voice questioned just what the hell I was doing.

This wasn't my case, this was Clementine's. I had no business going through those files. But I remembered what Sheriff Smith had said. I get that this is her case now, but let's not take our hands off the wheel just yet. Well, here I was keeping my hands on the wheel. The bartender unplugged the USB and handed it off to me. Just in the nick of time, too. On the cameras, I could see Clementine coming in.

I immediately pocketed the USB. Thanks, I said. Now just take a deep breath. All right, you did good. The bartender nodded. Right, right, thanks. He said softly, before I left him at the desk. I headed out of the office to return to the bar.

Clementine was already standing over the remaining body. She was examining her wounds, although she noticed my return quickly. Sawyer, she said softly, almost as if she'd been expecting me. How can I help, ma'am? Sounds like you've already done plenty, but I could use some help with the witnesses. I'd expect it as much, and that was fine by me. Sure thing, I said. I gave her a nod and went to join Lopez.

It was late when I got back home. But for as tired as I was, I knew that I wasn't going to sleep a wink. I opened up my laptop and plugged in the USB the bartender had given me. There were four folders on it, each one containing the feed from a different camera in the rooster. I clicked into one of them at random and picked through the video files inside, looking for the stretch of footage that I needed. It didn't take me long to find it either. I clicked into one of the video files and watched as the chaos of the red rooster played out before me.

People drinking, flirting, laughing, living their lives. Nothing I hadn't seen before. I let the footage play for a bit before getting up to grab myself a couple of beers from the fridge. When I got bag, I started skipping through the video, waiting for the moment my two victims showed up. When I'd taken the bartender's statement, he told me that he'd seen the two before, both separate and together. He didn't know their names, but he knew their faces. Other patrons recognized them too. One of them had identified the red-haired girl as Kaylee. They'd mentioned she lived down at River Ridge, a trailer park outside of town. Nobody had been able to name the elegant woman, although a lot of patrons had said they'd seen her around before.

They'd come in at around 847. The dark-haired woman seemed to be the one taking the lead. She seemed to be the one doing most of the talking. She and Kaylee went to sit at the bar, talking between themselves all the while. I couldn't say for sure what they were talking about. Even if the file had audio, I didn't think I'd be able to single them out over the crowd. They looked at ease, though. They shared a couple of drinks.

Nothing seemed that out of the ordinary. I took a sip of my beard watching them. Eventually, Keeley got distracted talking to a man further down the bar. The elegant woman stayed at the bar, drinking casually as if she had all the time in the world. The man in the suit came in at around 9-12. My attention shifted to him the moment he came in. He fit the description that every witness I had spoken to had given about the shooter. A tall man with a red beard in a black suit. He was wearing a pair of reflective sunglasses

despite the fact that it was nine at night. Even beneath his suit, it was easy to tell he had a good physique, and his crew cut implied a military history. Red beard took a seat at the bar, a few seats down from the elegant woman. He ordered a drink and nursed it for a bit. He started discreetly looking at the other patrons in the bar, but he seemed not to look directly at either the elegant woman or Kaylee. He just drank his beer. And when he finished, he got up and switched seats, moving to sit beside the elegant woman. She looked over at him, putting on a charming smile as they talked. I almost got the impression that they were flirting with each other. They kept talking for a while, then as they did, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. If I didn't know what was coming next,

It would have caught me completely off guard. When she turned to take a sip of her drink, the gun appeared in his hand, almost without warning. She didn't even have time to react before he shot her at point-blank range, three bullets straight to the chest. I saw Kaylee spin around and freeze up. Her entire body tensed, as if she was ready to go lunge at the shooter. If that was her intention, though, she never got the chance. He put two bullets in her without even thinking. And then he moved towards the door.

I rubbed my temples, watching as the chaos of the aftermath unfolded. Some people called 911. Some, like the bartender, ran to help. I saw myself run in through the door less than six minutes after the shooting. That was where I stopped the video. I took another sip of my beer and sighed. I rewounded a bit, watching as the shooter came in and watching as he left. I might recognize this man on the street if I saw him, but other than his red hair and sunglasses,

there really wasn't much to go off of. And the way he left, he walked away, almost casually, as if he had some place to be. He didn't run. He didn't panic. He was cold, calm, profound. I guess that did fit with the other murders, didn't it? I steled myself to review the footage again, this time from another camera. Maybe there'd be something from one of the angles that I didn't see.

I checked the other three cameras. One of them wouldn't offer me much. One of them didn't even catch the shooting. But the last one. The last one looked promising. It was placed near the back of the bar. Through it, you could see. see out a window onto the street. Wasn't the best view, but it was different. From that angle,

I could see a black sedan pull up to drop the man off. I saw him walk in the door and sit by the bar. From there, the scene played out just the same. The man in the suit shot the two women and left. He strode out towards the sedan parked out front. He got in the passenger seat, and the sedan. took off like a shot. There'd been a getaway driver. Interesting. I set my beer down. I could drink the rest of it later.

I needed to go on a little drive. It was around 4 a.m. when I returned to the Red Rooster. I parked my car on the street, exactly where the black sedan had parked and got out. The downtown area around me was dead silent, lifeless almost. wasn't another soul in sight. But that was fine by me.

That just meant that there were no distractions. It didn't take me long to find what I was looking for. There was a bank across the street, and I walked towards it. The doors were locked, but that was fine. I could see what I needed through the windows. Bank machines. More specifically. Bank machines with cameras pointed right at the red rooster.

Perfect. I was off shift the next day, but that just gave me time to get some actual work done. It was probably better I'd do it all from home. This case was Clementines now. I wasn't sure what she'd do if she caught me working on it, and I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to find out. Judging by those fangs in her mouth, she wasn't human either. Hell, I wasn't sure if she was actually even from the state police.

I got the impression that Sheriff Smith didn't seem to think so. But if she wasn't with them, who was she with? Why hadn't the state police sent someone else? Had she done something to them? Even if she had. I couldn't just believe that the state police wouldn't notice that. No, there was something else going on here.

But I could figure that out later. First things first, I needed to read. review the footage from the bank machines. The bank was more than willing to give me access to the footage. They knew who I was. They knew what had happened and they knew why I was asking. Once I got back home, it didn't take me long to find what I was looking for. Just as I'd hoped, the bank machines had recorded the car that had been waiting outside. I couldn't make out the license plate from the footage, but I could see enough to identify the make and model of the car, an Audi A6 sedan.

No, I'm not much of a car guy, but I can say that there's not a lot of autis in rural Ohio, even without the license plate. This shouldn't be hard to find. I made a call to a buddy of mine in the BMW, told them what I was looking for, and within the hour he had the results for me. Turns out, there were actually only eight Audi A6 sedans registered in our county. All of them registered to the same company. Apostle Security

Naturally, I did some research on him. Apostle was a mid-sized private security firm based in Cincinnati. They had a few other offices in Ohio and some of the surrounding states. It was founded by a man named Joseph Kray about 10 years ago. Although beyond that, I couldn't find out much about their history and really I didn't care. their website didn't list any offices in my county, but the BMW seemed to say otherwise. My friend there had given me an address outside of town. Even if I was off duty, I figured no one could give me any guff or taking a little scenic drive.

And if I just so happened to see some black autis that looked like the one that had been parked outside a red rooster last night. Well, maybe I'd pass that information along to whoever was on. on duty at the time. Pretty sure it was Biggs and Hoffman. They could decide whether or not to tell Clementine. It'd be completely out of my hands. I headed out to my car, plug the address I'd gotten into my GPS, and took a little drive. As I drove through the back roads leading out of town, I felt a sense of quiet apprehension. Maybe I was being naive putting my hopes on this lead, but I'd done the work. If Apostle really was behind this, it would make sense for them to have some sort of location in the county.

If I was right, maybe I wouldn't find all the answers to the surreal mess of a case, but I would at least find the shooters. That was something. At least people wouldn't be dying anymore. But God, I still didn't know what to make of the victims. The gills on Kaylee, the fangs on Patricia Russell, the fractures on jaw-free vickers' bones. Maybe these people really were monsters. If so, maybe these shooters knew that. Maybe that was why they did it. But even if that was the case,

I still couldn't just leave a roving kill squad to wander around unchecked. The way things were going. It was just a matter of time until one of the victims was some innocent bystander. I passed by the familiar sign as I neared the edge of the county, an advertisement for the local Volkswagen dealership. You're in Smith country, it declared, along with a prominent smiling photo of Aaron Smith himself. I'd always found that sign a little creepy.

The eyes and the smile were both just a little too wide and made the man look downright unhinged. I'd never actually meant Aaron Smith in person, despite working for his older brother. The sheriff would mention him from him. time to time, and I could see the family resemblance. But it was hard to imagine the face on that sign, sitting down to an odd Sunday dinner with Sheriff Smith. To be fair, they probably didn't talk much. I don't think Aaron Smith himself even lived in a town anymore. He owned a bunch of other dealerships,

scattered around southwest Ohio. Smith Volkswagen was just the oldest. But the sign had been there forever. then why fix what ain't broken, even if it is creepy as hell. Years ago, it had been a small auto garage that had long since gone defunct. It'd been closed down since before I moved to town. From what I'd seen, Smith Volkswagen had used the property as an additional lot to store the cars they had no room for from time to time. But it didn't seem like they did that anymore. Now, the place just looked completely dead. There were no cars parked out front, Audi, or otherwise.

I pulled into the parking lot and checked the address I had to make sure it was correct. This was definitely the place. I parked my car and got out before making my way to the front door. I found it locked. Naturally. Well, guess my luck had to run out somewhere. Maybe this was a dead end. I already knew I probably wasn't getting inside without a warrant.

I didn't exactly know what my chances were of getting one. I tried the door again. Still didn't open. From the corner of my eye, I noticed a security camera by the door. I stared up into it. The presence of a camera probably didn't mean much. Whoever owned this property, just probably wanted to deter adventurous kids and urban explorers from going to

one in. Maybe it was nothing, but I still found it interesting. I considered just going back to the car, but I didn't want to feel like I'd wasted my time, so I figured I'd snoop a bit. I took a quick walk around the perimeter, peeking in through the windows that I passed. I didn't see much, but judging by what I could see, this place wasn't abandoned. I didn't see anyone inside, but the inside looked awfully clean for an abandoned building. Going out around back, I noticed that there were garbage bags and the dumpsters out there. Not a lot, but enough to confirm to me that there were people here. Maybe this wasn't a dead end after all.

I heard a sudden mechanical whir from the other side of the building that made me pause around at the corner, moving along the back of the building, just in time to see a convent. of five black Audies rolling out of the garage door, one after the other. They turned onto the road, moving almost in perfect sink as they headed towards town. I felt a knot form in my stomach as I watched them go. I'd found the cars I'd been looking for. But if they were going somewhere, odds are that we'd be getting a call about it all too soon. My heart was beating faster. I knew I couldn't just sit there and watch. I knew I needed to do something.

So I did. I ran back to my car as fast as I could. I leapt behind the wheel and keyed the engine. I tore back onto the road speeding after the convoy. I didn't know what my plan was. I didn't have a plan. I just knew that if I didn't do something, people were going to die. The convoy turned away from down.

downtown, following the river north. They passed by the River Ridge RV Park, moving further down the road towards the outskirts of the county. It was hard to say exactly where they were going. There wasn't much out that way, not for several miles, but they were moving with purpose, and so was I. About 10 miles past River Ridge, I noticed something up ahead. Flashing lights, like what you'd see on a squad car, although there was no color to them. They were just white. The convoy in front of me finally began to pull off the road. I could see them passing another Audi. This one outfitted with an LED bar. Two men on the road waved them off. Both of them were dressed in well-pressed suits and wore reflective sunglasses. One of them was bald with a very thick dark stubble,

and the other had a familiar red beard and crew cut. The nod in my stomach grew tighter as I drove towards the men, waiting for them to stop me. I reached for my pistol, ready for them to make a move. But they just waved me on, barely even looking at me. I still kept my hand on my gun as I drove past, watching red beard and boldy like a hawk. I could see two other men behind the parked Audi with the flashing lights out of the corner of my eye. They were on the ground fidgeting with something. It took me a moment to figure out what it was.

Spike strips. I'd seen them before. We used them back during my old army days at vehicle checkpoints. And while we'd never had to use them while I'd been working as a city cop, we did have them. They were setting up an ambush here. The five autis that had pulled off the road parked along the shoulder further down. I could see men in suits getting out of them. I didn't see any guns.

I guess they were still partially trying to be subtle. But I had a feeling that they were armed. I kept on driving, going further down the road. Stopping and confronting these men was not an option. Maybe they weren't interested in making a mess. by shooting some random guy in their little trap. But that didn't change the fact that they were dangerous. Charging in and dealing with them by myself would not be smart.

So instead, I reached for my phone and I called Biggs. He answered on the first ring. Oh, hey, Sawyer. Ethan, we have a situation. Who's on duty with you right now? Well, right now it's Hoffman. Why? What's going on? Okay, look, call Hoffman, call the sheriff, and call Lopez.

There's going to be another attack. What? Where? I've spotted some suspects setting up some kind of ambush 10 miles north of River Ridge. How soon can you be up here? Um, 20, 30 minutes maybe? He said. Sawyer, where are you right now? I just past the ambush point.

They're gear in. up for something. Now move your ass, all right? Yeah, yeah, of course. Biggs hung up immediately, and I pulled off to the side of the road. I took a deep breath before checking the magazine of my pistol and getting out. I wasn't going to charge in needlessly, but I needed to have eyes on this situation. It'd be easier if I could get closer on foot. Leaving my car behind, I dipped into the woods along the other side of the road. I hid myself among the trees as I walked back along the road towards the ambush. The river whispered beside me as I crept through the trees, and the steep incline leading down the river helped keep me low and hidden. I could see the flashing white lights

of the parked Audi. Then they went dark. Red Beard was speaking into a walkie talking, and on the far side of the road, I could see several men waiting by the other five parked Audis. This time they had guns, assault rifles by the look of it. I was right. There was another attack coming and it was coming now. All right, fish markets on the move, gentlemen, put out the nets, Redbeard said. On his order, I watched one of the men pull the spike strip across the road, while Red Beard. beard addressed the men on the other side. He spoke like a drill instructor, and the men carried themselves like soldiers. As of right now, we are locked in on this operation. We run things smooth, we run it clean, we get the job done. No mistakes like last time, you got that? No stragglers.

Understood, he said. After a few minutes, headlights appeared further down the road. I watched them from my vantage point, praying they belonged to Biggs, but the oncoming vehicle was too big to be a squad car. This looked more like an RV. No, no, no, no, no, no. This was a whole convoy of RVs, most likely coming from River Ridge. I couldn't count them all, but they were all heading towards the ambush, and the pieces slowly began to click into place. Kaylee, the girl who'd survived, she'd lived at River Ridge. If she and her friend from the other night weren't human, then there was a damn good chance that there were others just like them.

Other women with gills. I guess River Ridge would be the perfect place for them. It was quiet, away from the hustle and bustle of downtown and close to the water. Whatever these people were, it'd be just about the perfect place. for him. Fish markets on the move. That's what Redbeard had said. Now, the other killings hadn't exactly been low-key.

If there were more girls like Kaylee at River Ridge, odds are they'd heard about him. And odds are that once they realized they were being targeted, too, their first instinct would be to get the hell out of dodge. That would explain why they were carrying out this attack in broad daylight, too. They weren't going off their own. schedule. They were trying to catch the monsters as they fled. And now their targets were here, drawing closer and closer to their massacre with each second. There was no sign of biggs or anyone

else. They still had to be at least 15 minutes out, probably more. By the time they got here, it'd probably be over. I couldn't let that happen. For the record, I knew the one I was about to do, was extraordinarily stupid, but I didn't see a whole lot of other options. I couldn't allow them to ambush these RVs and kill these things. I couldn't. I didn't really stop to weigh the pros and cons in my head. Sure, I knew that what I was about to do had a chance of survival that was damn near zero. But hey, everybody dies sometime, right?

This was the only option I had available to me. In a lot of ways, it wasn't even really a choice I made. I just did it? I took aim at the nearest target, and I fired. I saw one of the men by the car, the bald one with a scruff, grab his shoulder, and stumble back a step. He wasn't dead, but he was hurt. I shot at him again, but he was low enough to the ground and far enough away that I didn't hit him. He dragged himself off the road and behind the Audi.

He still managed to stand, so clearly he wasn't in that bad a shape. The moment he heard the gunshots, red beard spun around, drawing his own pistol as he did. I knew that he saw me. Our eyes locked for only a split second, before the air was filled with the sound of gunshots. I felt a white-hot pain sting across my arm as one of his bullets gray. me. Even though I returned fire, I doubt I hit him. Red Beard dove behind his awning, but behind him, I could see his little kill squad moving in. I couldn't count how many of them there were. More than ten, fifteen, maybe. Maybe even twenty. I couldn't say. I retreated back into the

trees, skidding down the forested incline towards the river as I waited for the gunmen to come from me. Keep off the road, Redbeard said. Watch your fire, wait until you have a shot. He must have been trying to salvage this operation. Although from where I sat, the RVs looked to be slowing down. Maybe they'd heard the gunfire. Redbeard glanced in the direction of the RVs, and I could see the gears in his head spinning.

This was all going wrong, but he didn't seem the type to get. give up. On the road, the lead RV moved to make a U-turn. I could see Red Beard watching it, and I took a pot shot at him. It didn't hit him, but it did shatter the driver's side window of his aughty. Roaring in frustration, Red Beard fired three shots back at May. All right, screw it. Squads one and two kill that son of a bitch. Three to five intercept the convoy. He said. I saw some of his men back off, running back to their cars.

The rest moved on to the road, coming after me. I fired at them, and I saw one stumble back as I shot him dead in the chest. But he didn't die. Great, they had armor. I was punished for poking my head out by a burst of machine gunfire. The trees by my head splintered as I dove down. down for cover. I lost my footing, sliding further down the incline toward the river. The only reason I didn't fall all the way down was because I caught myself on a tree. Looking up, I could see about

eight figures at the top of the incline coming down off the road. One of them spotted me and opened fire. All I could do was scramble out of the way and roll further down the hill toward the water. Gunfire followed me, but I couldn't see it was shooting. I couldn't see where they were. I couldn't stop to try and get a shot. There were too many of them. I dove down to safety behind a fallen old tree. Bullets rained down on it, tearing off chunks of bark and sending splinters raining down on me. I gripped my gun tight, my blood rushing in my ears. Somehow, I always want to I wondered if I'd die like this. Maybe there wasn't any other way for me to die, who's to say?

But I'd be damned if I didn't at least take a couple of them with me. I took a deep breath. I stalled myself for my last stand. Then, gun in hand, I rose to return fire. Only when the rifles went off, they weren't aimed at me. I could see the eight figures standing in between the trees, but they turned away. They were shooting at something else now, although I couldn't see what. And then I saw a shape moving between the trees.

I heard the ground shift, and I saw a cloud of dirt fly up. One of the armed men was sent screaming down the incline into the river. I wasn't sure if he'd survive the fall or not. One of the other men opened fire, only for the shape to grab his rifle. I saw the figure force it down before lunging at his throat. He screamed as they sank their teeth into him, but didn't seem to be able to put up much of a fight otherwise. Two of his friends opened fire on him, hoping to kill the shape that had him. The ground seemed to shift between them, sending both of them down the incline and into the river.

Within seconds, whoever or whatever the hell this thing was had just taken out half the men who were about to kill me. They tossed the man they'd just bit into the ground, and for the first time, I got a good look at him. It was Clementine. Her mouth was smeared red with blood. Her sunglasses were absent, and in her blue eyes, I could see an unsettled. calm. The remaining gunman seemed to freeze at the side of her, not seeming to know how to react until she moved. She was fast. It was hard to tell if she was running, or if the ground simply shifted beneath her. She lunged for the nearest gunman, kneeing him in the stomach, and tossing him aside like he weighed nothing. But while she was doing so, the man beside him

got off a lucky shot. Before Clementine could deal with him, he emptied half his magazine into her chest. But she didn't fall. Hell? I couldn't see a scratch on her. The guy who'd shot her, on the other hand. Blood dribbled from his mouth. His body jerked violently as he collapsed to the ground.

It was as if he'd been the one who'd gotten shot. not her. Clementine barely paid him any mind, looking at the final two men with that eerie calmness. I could see one of them stumbling away, trying to get back up the incline. The other one just gritted his teeth and decided to fight on. He was smart enough to know that shooting her wasn't going to work.

So instead, he pulled a combat knife from his jacket and charged at her, as if that would do him any good. Clementine barely even reacted. She sidestepped him and casually sent him down the incline into the river below. I saw him tumble into the river before crashing down into the water with a final scream. Clementine watched him fall with a quiet disinterest before her attention shifted to me. I took a step back, half expecting her to come from,

for me like she had the others. Instead, she simply wiped the blood from her mouth before she turned away from me. I watched her head back up the incline, moving with purpose. I hesitated for a moment, and then I followed her. Clementine stepped out onto the road and surveyed the scene before her with an intense gaze. Whatever Red Beards' plan had been, clearly it had gone catastrophically wrong. I could see some of the black

auties on the road, trying to follow the RVs. I watched as the one that got closest to one of the RVs near the back, be rammed aside and sent careening off the road. The tires of Red Beard's Audi screeched

as it tore back onto the road. I saw him behind the wheel. glancing at Clementine and I, before driving off. I raised my gun to shoot at him, but Clementine seized my wrist. I looked over at her, confused. Let them run, she said calmly. We know where they are now. She looked down the road, back toward the fleeing RVs.

She seemed, for a moment, content. One of the five parked Audies driven by a survivor sped out of the road. Clementine regarded it with a quiet disinterest before walking over to the road spikes and beginning to move them. Help me with us, she said coolly. You called for backup, she asked, as we dragged the spikes off the road. I did, yeah, I said. Wait, you're not with them? No, I was with the RV convoy, she said.

We packed away the spikes, but left them at the side of the road. Someone else could collect them. I raised an eyebrow at her. You were with them, I asked. So you knew about the attack? I knew it was likely, she said. Although I didn't expect you here, Deputy Sawyer. She tilted her head.

me. Working behind my back, I see. I was following up on a lead. I began. I tracked the shooter's vehicle from last night to a used garage just on the edge of town. I saw some cars leaving. I figured it was probably bad news, so I followed him here. I see. You're very dedicated, aren't you? Well, I couldn't exactly sit around given the past few days, could I? What the hell just happened back there in the incline? How did you... What the hell did you, too? I watched someone shoot you.

Then, what did they die of their own gunshot wounds? How did you do that? What the hell are you? The questions spilled out of me without much thought, although Clementine didn't seem to care much. Those are questions with complicated answers. She replied. Why don't you uncomplicated then?

I said. I'm an old soldier. Same as you. She began. Maybe I know a little bit of magic. Maybe I'm not entirely human anymore. But that's what I am at my core. Vampire.

I said quietly. She didn't answer. But there was a look in her eyes that told me I was right? At this point, after seeing what I'd just seen, I wasn't in much of a state of mind to doubt it. So that trick with a bullet wounds, was that a vampire thing or a magic thing?

I asked. Attribution spell, she began. Makes me harder to kill. Not a lot gets through it. I'll tell you what. give me your car keys and I'll answer any questions you have later. She extended a hand to me. I'm sorry, my car keys, why? I asked.

I need to follow the RVs to make sure they make it out of the county safely. I'll assume you've called in backup, so you still need to be here. So I'll be borrowing your vehicle. I hesitated for a moment. before swearing under my breath and handing her my keys, Do what you got to do, I said. She nodded. It'll be returned to you when I'm done in full working condition.

With that, she pushed past May and walked toward my car. All I could really do was just watch. She took my car and sped off after the RVs, leaving me on the road to clean up the mess. I needed a drink. God, did I ever need a drink? The incident by River Ridge was nothing short of a disaster to say the least. When he'd made it to the scene,

Sheriff Smith had asked me for every detail I could give him on what had happened. I'd told him most of the truth. Most of it. I left out the par where Clementine had drank a man's blood and caused the earth to move. Biggs probably would have believed all of it if I told him. But the sheriff, he'd probably send me to get my head checked, and I wouldn't blame him one bit for that.

Even if there was a chance he'd believe me, I really couldn't bring myself to include those particular elements of the story. I had barely believed him. Even though I'd seen it all with my own two eyes, none of this seemed to make sense anymore. I felt like I was looking at the shifting gears of some great machine without any context for what any of them did. I only knew that they did in fact do something. I knew that Apostle Security was killing monsters.

I knew that Clementine probably wasn't actually with the state police. I knew that apparently there'd been a bunch of fish women living down by River Ridge. and I may or may not have just saved them all from being ambushed. These were things I knew, and yet they didn't make sense to me. And here I thought small towns like this were supposed to be simple. I was having a beer at the honeypot in Spaniel when Dr. Miller found me. The moment I saw him walk in, I gave him a nod. I wasn't in the least bit surprised when he slid into the booth across from me.

"'Depity Sawyer. "' Sounds like you've had a hell of a day, huh?' "'I've had a hell of a week,' I replied. "'I didn't think you drank, Doc.' "'Well, from time to time,' he said. "'The bartender came by, and you ordered a beer. "'You look like you've barely slept,' he said. "'Yeah, go figure.

"'I got coffee keeping me going for the time being.' "'I replied. caffeine doesn't really make up for a good night's sleep. Yeah, maybe not, but I have kind of a lot going on lately. Doesn't really give a man much time for sleep. No, I guess it doesn't. He admitted. So what brings you to my little watering hole? I asked.

It's not five o'clock yet, so I can't imagine this being a social call. Yes and no. He began. I thought you might be interested in the autopsy results from last night's victim. I raised an eyebrow and took a sip of my beer. Yeah, I am, actually. I take it she had gills. Oh, you noticed those, did you?

I saw him on the other girl. The one that got shot, I replied. He nodded. I guess I don't need to tell you that I've never seen this before. Why? Well, I'd be shocked if he had, Doc. He laughed. Yeah, got to say.

There wasn't a hell of a lot to find on the victim. Her name was Melissa Sinclair. Address was listed as River Ridge. Far as I can tell, she owned an RV there. Yeah, that sounds about right, my son. Taking a sip of my drink. You find anything else? A lot.

Actually, but I'll spare you the autopsy details, and I'll cut to the really interesting bit. He reached into his pocket and set a black card down in front of me. It looked a little bit like a student card. On it, I could see a picture of Melissa, along with her name in white text and a barcode. In the top right corner was a red four-pointed star that looked a little bit like a cross. "'What's this?' I asked. "'Found it in her purse. There was a similar one in Hank Russell's wallet, too.

"'Have you ever seen anything like this before?' He asked. I took a closer look at the card. Aside from the Red Star, there wasn't much to ID it as belonging to any particular group. The Red Star logo didn't look familiar to me either. No, never, I admitted. Me neither. Two victims with cards like this, though. Look, I'm no cop, but something tells me it's connected, he said.

I nodded, looking the cards over carefully. Yeah, yeah, Vickers and the Russells. You ever meet them while they were still alive? I asked. You know, I actually did. The wife and I signed up for couples' dance lessons for our 15th anniversary. Hank and Patricia, they were in the same class as us. Can't say we were close, but yes, I had spoken to them. You ever notice anything off about him?

I asked. No, no, not in the slightest. I sure as hell didn't imagine they'd be... Well... He trailed off. Yeah, I finished. Melissa and Kaylee, the girl that got shot, they passed as human too. So did Vickers.

You know, it's weird. No one seemed to suspect the damn thing about any of these people. But our gunmen seem to know exactly who they are, where they are, and what they are. I looked down at the card and turned it over in my hands, almost as if they've got a list of them. Dr. Miller's brow furrowed. You think that's possible? I nodded.

Makes sense, doesn't it? Vickers worked in IT, right? Could be that he had access to this list, and that's why he was the first target. Could also be why they burned his house to try and get rid of any evidence of the list existing. Dr. Miller grimaced. Yes, but why target the Russell's and Melissa next, though?

I'm not sure. I began. Melissa, I may have some idea on what was going on there. The Russell's not so much, but I pocketed the card. I've still got time to find out. Dr. Miller nodded. Well, keep me posted if you do, he said. We shared a drink together, and then we went to. separate ways. It was late in the afternoon when I finally made it back home. Since Clementine still

had my car, I had to take a cab, which I may or may not have used as an excuse to drink more than usual. After the whirlwind of chaos that had defined the past 24, hell, the past 72 hours, I was more than ready to collapse and finally get some rest. Dr. Miller was right. I needed sleep. I unclipped my gun from my belt and left it in the living room before I dragged myself to the bedroom. I didn't even bother getting changed before sinking down under the bed. You know, I'm starting to get too old for this. The drinking, the shooting. Ten years ago, maybe I wouldn't have felt so rough, but I wasn't in the body I had ten years ago.

Now was I. I rested my head back on my pillow, half ready to doze off completely. Unfortunately, that was when I noticed I wasn't alone. There was a man with a red beard and a crew cut standing silently in my doorway. He stared at me. I stared right back. Well, hello there, I said. Deputy Rick Sawyer, he began.

You have been quite the pain at our ass, haven't you? "'You mean just today, or have I been an ongoing pain in the ass?' I replied. I sat up and noticed two figures waiting in the hall behind him. One of them was a very disgruntled-looking bald man with his arm in a sling. I waved to him. His eyes just narrowed at me. I could feel my heart beating faster, though, but I did everything I could look stoic. These pricks didn't deserve the satisfaction.

The boss wants to have a little chat with you, Redbeard said. Get up. Look, if you're going to shoot me, I'd you do me a solid and just do it in my own bed. I would at least like to die comfortable, I said. Redbeard just looked at me. Lawrence Oswald, get this guy on his feet. The bald man and the other guy, who I didn't recognize, both pushed past him, storming into my room to force me up.

The bald guy hung back, letting his friend do most of the work and forcing me to my feet. He only grabbed me with his good arm when I was already standing. Red beard turned without a further word, leading us down the hall and through the door where a black Audie waited for us. I was forced into the back seat with my bold friend while Redbeard got into the passenger seat. Oswald, keep a gun on him. Make sure he don't do anything stupid, Redbeard said. The bald guy. I guess he was Oswald, nodded.

I figured that meant that the man who got in the driver's seat must have been Lawrence. The car rolled away from my house, heading away from town. You taking me back to that abandoned garage? I asked. Nah, had to burn that one because of the mess you made. But we got other places to stay. He replied. On the run, huh? That's got to suck. I said.

Look, if you want to stay alive, Deputy, that attitude of yours ain't going to do you any favors. He replied. I wasn't aware of staying alive. was on the table. I said. Look, you've seen the way we work, Deputy. If we wanted you dead, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. I guess he had a point there.

Trees in farmland drifted past through the window. Eventually, the car pulled into an overgrown parking lot with a single run-down building in it. Once upon a time, that building had been a restaurant. but it looked like it'd been abandoned for over a decade now. The car stopped, and Oswald gestured with his gun for me to get out. I did. Red Beard stepped down, too. Without a word, he headed straight through the broken door of the old restaurant.

Oswald pushed me to follow. The old restaurant was baking in the summer heat. The dining room was completely empty. The tables and shares that had probably once been here were long gone, and the carpet was dirty and covered in debris. The ceiling fans that hung over the dining room were stained and dirty. One of them had collapsed entirely. Oswald ushered me past all of this, pushing me toward an office where I could hear the roar of indoor fans. At his insistence, I stepped through the door and was greeted by a massive man. behind a desk. This man, I almost recognized. Almost. Joseph Cray. There'd been a photo of him on

Apostle's website as the man who'd gotten the whole operation started. But the man in front of me only barely resembled the man in that photo. In fact, if it hadn't been his employees who'd kidnapped me, I probably wouldn't have recognized him at all. Cray looked to be somewhere in his mid-50s to early 60s, and he was big. I could see this guy topping 600 or 700 pounds easily. He was bald and covered in liver spots with an unkempt wiry beard and coke bottle glasses. He was dressed in a khaki shirt with matching pants and weezed with every breath. He looked at Red Beard and I when we came in, and he gave him a curtain.

nod. Deputy, Sawyer, he began. So good to meet you face to face, I'm Joseph Cray. So to what do I owe this pleasure? I asked. You can relax, deputy. I guess you probably think this is some sort of punishment for the trouble you caused us today, but I assure you it's no such thing. I'm a reasonable man, deputy. I understand you were just doing your job, and my men were doing this. Situations such as the one that occurred today are inevitable in our line of work. We don't hold it against you. Actually, you're here because I'm inclined to offer you an olive branch. Your diligent, hard-working man, and I respect that. Diligence in particular is a virtue I cherish.

You know, dragging me out of my house and bringing me here. It's a hell of an olive branch. I interrupted. Yes, yes, I'm sorry about the theatrics. But we both know you probably wouldn't have accepted a formal request. for sit-down, and this location, while not ideal, does offer us an ideal amount of privacy. I'm sure nobody would hear the gunshots if things didn't go the way you wanted, I said. Cray's smile didn't fade. He didn't deny it.

With all that's been going on these past few days, I'm certain you must have questions. You've seen the bodies, seen that they're not human. I'm sure that might give you some idea as to why the work we're undertaking is so important. I didn't answer that. I didn't need to. This little town of yours, it's dying, isn't it? Or at least it was. you've had quite the shift in fortunes over the past few years. Small warehouses, new businesses, exciting, isn't it?

New life creeping into an old husk, like a hermit crab taking a new shell. Although that new life, it's not what it seems, is it? Tell me, is it fair to the people who've lived their lives, in this town for their entire lives, who've built it from the ground up, to wake up and find that they're not the ones in control anymore. Is it fair for something to come in, creep into the abandoned husks of dead buildings,

and bring them back as something else? It's better than letting the town die off, I replied. Is it? Well, maybe it might be if it weren't for the ones behind it. Make no mistake, these friendly new faces are anything but. This is in reinvigoration. It's an invasion. Slow and insidious.

Creeping into your communities, armed with lemon squares and potato salad, smiling just like people, but hiding their teeth behind closed lips, Demons, demons with human faces and a need for blood, calling themselves your friends, your neighbors, turning your home into theirs. You've seen most of them by now, haven't you? Vampires, werewolves, sirens, others. Yours is not the first town they've co-opted. It will not be the last either. And so what exactly is your mission then?

I began. Kill them before they can, what, form a homeowner's association? Before they can kill you, Cray said gravely. Our business is pest control. Parasites come in and we exterminate them. We've done it before. It's bloody, thankless work, but we have done it.

I shifted uneasily. The way Cray spoke so proudly about having done this before, it disturbed me. There was a twisted smile on his lips that told me he wasn't bluffing. I recognize that what we do may seem needlessly violent. I recognize that you may have reservations. about our work. But you've seen the things we've killed. Deep in your gut, I think you know that this is necessary.

These creatures look human. They act human. They seem so human, but they aren't. I fought them long enough to know for certain how monstrous they truly are. when they sink their claws into a place like this, there is no choice. You fight or you die. I am giving you the opportunity to fight. Cray leaned in towards me and our eyes locked.

We're not enemies, you and I. You can help save this town, deputy. You are obligated to save this town. I looked Cray in the eye, knowing what he was asking me. I didn't even need to think about my answer. Save this town from what exactly? I began. Monsters? You want to know how many people in this town have been killed by vampires, Mr. Cray.

Not a single one. You want to talk about how many folks have been mauled by wearer. wolves? None. But let's take a look at the number of folks who've been shot in the past week. Five, by my count. And it would have been a hell of a whole lot more if I hadn't stumbled into your ambush. You know, I may not have the firmest grasp on exactly what the hell is going on right now, but from where I'm sitting, the only thing I have to save this town from is you. Cray's eyes narrowed. I'd be watching my words if I were you. He warned.

You know what? If you're going to have your little lap dog shoot me, then just shoot me and get it over with. You want me to sit here and grovel? What, because your boys have guns? You want me to kiss your ass. See your side of things. Well, that ain't going to happen,

so you can take your olive branch and shove it up your ass. Kray went silent for a moment. His brow furwing into a look of rage that admittedly gave me pause. After a moment, he sank back into his chair. From the corner of my eye, I saw Oswald raise the gun to my head again. But Kray raised a hand, making him stop. His eyes were still on me. We don't make a habit of killing our own kind without good reason.

He said, misguided as you may be, Deputy Sawyer, you are still human, but they aren't. I beg you, deputy, please reconsider who you're thinking of standing up for. These creatures, they may fool you, but you need to understand they're not what they claim to be. even that witch who saved you today, perhaps she did preserve your life, but you saw what she was capable of. With power like that, she'd be more than capable of leveling this county on a whim. Think of the bigger picture here. Do you really want to throw your lot in with the likes of that? As opposed to throwing it in with you?

I interrupted. You murder people, claiming their monsters. And you know what? Maybe they are. Maybe I don't really know how else to explain the things I've seen these past few days. But even if they're not human, they're still part of this town. And it's my job to protect them. They're an infestation, Kray said.

Make no mistake, Deputy. This is war. You must choose a side. Are you going to look me in the eye and choose the blood-sucking, feral monsters over your own kind? He asked. Well, considering what my own kind looks like right now. You know what? Yeah, I think I've made my choice.

Why is it that the stupidest people have the strongest convictions, he said, I've done everything in my power to talk some sense into you, young man. You've chosen not to listen. I'm disappointed, but I won't argue with a man unwilling to accept reality. Mr. Oswald, take the deputy out back and dispose of him. Then you and Mr. Lawrence can find a suitable spot to dispose of the body. I didn't move. I just stared down, Joseph Cray. Come on, Cray, if you're not going to kill me yourself.

At least look me in the eye like a man. The corner of his mouth shifted into a half-smile as a single dry laugh escaped him. If you insist, he said. before giving Oswald a half nod. Oswald pressed the gun into the back of my head, and I looked Cray dead in the eye as I waited for everything to end. But when I heard the gunshots, they were from somewhere else,

somewhere outside the restaurant. Cray looked out through the open door, but I couldn't read his expression. I heard the screams of men over the gunshots, but I couldn't tell exactly what the hell was going on out there. Not until Oswald was suddenly launched across the room by absolutely nothing. He was sent flying across the office and hit the far wall hard enough to leave a dent in the drywall. I didn't even need to see her to know she was there.

I seized the moment, racing toward Oswald and lunging for him. He still held the gun, but he was disoriented. it. I slammed my boot into his face, and I heard his nose crunch under my heel before diving down to rip the gun from him. He didn't let it go without a fight. But he only had one functional arm, and I had, too. Mathematically speaking, well, he got his ass kicked. I slammed his head hard into the ground, knocking him out cold before pulling the gun from his hand and raising it to cray. He was holding his own 45 and one meaty hand. I could see markings along the barrel of the gun. Rooms of some kind, but I couldn't figure out what they meant. His teeth were gritted in rage,

although his attention quickly shifted away from me. He glared at the door, and there she was. Clementine. Her posture was casual and relaxed, as if she'd been on an afternoon stroll and just happened to come by. In trouble again already, Deputy, she asked. Same trouble, actually, I replied. She hummed an acknowledgement, looking at Kray from behind her sunglasses. So you've saved me the trouble of hunting you down, which, he said. He held the gun tightly in his hand.

Clementine stared down the barrel, unflinching and calm. Joseph Cray, not what I'd been expecting. I thought a man of your reputation might be different, she said. Mark my words, Clementine. I am no less a man than any soldier under my command. And yet no greater a man than any who's trying to kill me in the past, Clementine said. She studied the runes on.

his gun before huffing. Well, at least you have an appropriate weapon, unlike most. I recognize those runes. You've found a way around my attribution spell. Clever, but on the whole, meaningless. I knew they'd send you, Cray said. Clementine, they say you're among the strongest of you. the Clementine sisters. Still, you impress me. I presume you found us through the deputy, didn't you? She gave a half nod. That's very smart. Even more impressive is how you've even managed to manipulate one of the local deputies over to your side. I've barely seen you in action, but I already know you more than live up to your legend.

Ironic, since you'll be the first Clementine to die in two hundred years. You fire that gun at me, and I'll manipulate that bullet right into your skull, Clementine said. Her tone was calm, as if she was simply stating a fact, not making a threat. I know you would. Kray said. But the funny thing about the ruins on this gun is, They ain't unique.

Clementine's eyes widened, and I heard a sudden gunshot. She moved, diving into cover behind the doorframe, but not in time. I saw her blood spatter against Kray's face as someone shot her from behind. A bullet hole appeared in Clementine, shoulder. Cray's gun followed her. I took aim at him and fired twice, aiming for his outstretched

arms. I saw his wrist twist at an unnatural angle as my bullet tore through his hand, robbing him of a few fingers. Cray's gun discharged, but the bullet went through the wall behind Clementine, missing her entirely. He clutched at his ruined hand, screaming in pain, before she, shooting me a death glare. A moment later, all 700 pounds of him came barreling toward me. I fired twice, hitting him in the chest before he slammed into me. He rammed into the far wall of his office. The two of us tripped over Oswald's unconscious body before crashing through the dry wall and landing in what used to be the kitchen. My gun slid out of my hand, and I didn't see where it went. My ears were ringing. I looked up to see Cray forcing his way through the splintered wall.

The buttons on his shirt had popped off, and I could see Kevlar underneath. Of course he was wearing Kevlar. In the office behind him, I could see Red Beard, also known as Claws, coming in through the door. His handgun drawn as he rounded the corner to finish off Clementine. The moment he took Ameter, though, the ceiling was. of the office collapsed down on him, burying them both underneath it. Cray still stumbled toward me, drenched in blood and sweat as he picked up speed again. I barely got out of the way in time. I scrambled behind one of the kitchen counters before picking

myself up. The counters were bare, not a weapon in sight, but I still needed to put up a fight. With an almost animal scream of rage, Cray continued after me. He moved with surprising speed, closing the distance between us and grabbing me by the throat. I hit him. I broke his nose and knocked his glasses off, but he didn't let up. His hands wrapped around my neck and started to squeeze as he dragged me around, rasping and wheezing with every step. My legs kicked frantically, and I dug my fingers into the bullet wound on his hand. I felt his flesh squish beneath my fingers.

He let out a cry of pain before pulling back. I kicked him as hard as I could, but it didn't really do much to stop him. He barely even flinched. Instead, he caught me across the face with a backhand. I found myself back on the ground, scrambling across the floor to put some distance between us before kicking back in him. My shoe connected with his groin as I quickly picked myself up. up. I threw a haymaker right in his face, sending him back just a single step. I connected with his face again, again, and again, before he finally collapsed onto the ground. Through the hole in the

wall behind me, I could see that both Clementine and Claws had recovered from the roof collapse. Clause still seemed a little disoriented, but Clementine was already coming for him. She gestured violently with her hand, and Claus's body was jerked to the side. I heard the crunch of dry wall as she hurled him through the office wall into the dining room. She glared at him, making sure he was down for the count. Then she gritted teeth and stepped through the hole in the wall that led to the kitchen. Cray looked over at her, blood dribbling from his split lip and broken nose. His breath came in heavy pants, and I could see a look of utter disgust on his face. No, no, no, no.

I forced him down under his stomach. I took a pair of handcuffs from my belt, and I closed them around his wrist. Joseph Cray, you're under arrest for the murders of Joffrey Vickers, Hank Russell and Melissa Sinclair. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will. be used against you in the court of law. As I read him as right, Clementine just stared down at him.

Her expression was completely neutral. No anger, no contempt, nothing. Finally, she simply turned away to deal with the others. So you're a vampire witch, huh? I asked. Looking at Clementine, as she sat at the bar of the honeypot and spaniel beside me. She didn't have a scratch on her from yesterday's showdown with cray. Even her bullet wound seemed to have already healed, although I didn't get a close look at it to be 100% sure. Me, on the other hand, I'd needed two Advil to even drag my sorry ass to the bar. Well, it sounds ridiculous when put that way, she said.

But yes, I suppose that is correct. Aha, and so how exactly does one become a vampire witch? I asked. The two terms aren't mutually exclusive, Clementine said. My sisters and I were once bonded together by our choice to study the occult. We became well-versed in it. Too well-versed, perhaps. Before we were killed, we were saved by the woman who would become our mother. our imprisonment had left most of us near death, so she offered us the gift of vampirism.

We accepted. Even those of us who were not dying drank the blood in solidarity, and we have survived ever since. I took a sip of my beer. You have lived a hell of a life, haven't you? I gotta ask, exactly how many of your kind are here. "'Just vampires or other Faye,' she replied.

"'Fay?' I asked her. "'People wanted an umbrella term for us that wasn't just monsters. "'Fay might not be the most appropriate name for us, but it stuck.' "'Right. Well, I was asking about Faye in general, I guess,' I said. "'Well, I couldn't tell you the exact number,' she replied. Vickers was this region's administrator. He would have known. I remembered the theory that I'd shared with Dr. Miller just yesterday. That's why they targeted him first, isn't it? I asked.

I had a feeling that was the case. He had some sort of database or something, didn't he? Exactly. She began. Organization. It's ironic. We've tried to use it to save us. but it has become one of our biggest weaknesses. Organization, I asked. You make it sound like there's some kind of Faye government. We call it the Imperium, she said matter of factly. It started as a vampire-oriented organization,

run by vampires, four vampires, building infrastructure and organizing us, making it easy to access blood without hunting or killing, helping us find a place in the world amongst our own kind. It was ambitious, but we built it up brick by brick. My family was there at the beginning, helping lay the foundation for what we would one day become. But we weren't the only ones. There were other groups of vampires, groups and families who'd learned to thrive.

We'd always done well enough by ourselves, but with all of us united. We could build something greater than the sum of its parts, something that benefited all of us. And when it got big enough, we opened up membership to others, werewolves, sirens, countless others. We welcomed whoever would join. We offered them a purpose,

community, the promise of safety. Sounds like a hell of a project, I said. She swirled the beer in her glass around Before taking a sip It has been And it hasn't always been easy But it's something we needed to do We're dying out, you know

Not just vampires Everyone Most of us see the writing on the wall The Imperium is the closest thing to an answer we can think of Building it has been a slow uphill battle Every step of the way Uniting the Faye sounds good in concept. In practice, though, it is a constant chore.

There's a lot of old grudges. In-fighting, and folks who want the benefits of the Imperium without following its laws. That's where I come in. I'm sure you've probably figured out by now that I'm not technically with the state police. It might have crossed my mind. I said dryly. She laughed. Well, I'm sure

The Imperium has some friends With a lot of ears to the ground When a case like this pops up In one of the towns we're occupying It gets passed to someone like me We come in We take a look And if it's relevant to us

We deal with it If not We pass it back to our contacts With the local police Fair enough I said So you're sort of like The Imperial Imperial

William's internal police then. Yeah, something like that. I never had the head for business like most of my sisters. So I use the skills I have. Kind of like you, I suppose. I was quiet and gave her a slow nod. I guess old soldiers are all the same, huh? We just keep moving.

I guess we do. We find our place in the world, and we do the good that we can. she replied. So this is all some Imperium project then? I asked. You find dying old towns like this. You come in and just set up shop?

Supposedly everyone wins, Clementine said. With us to reinvigorate them, these towns grow and thrive while we get the opportunity to set down roots and build communities of our own. The Russell's were the two most prominent vampires in town. Melissa, she was an elder of the local siren community down at River Ridge. And as I said before, Vickers was this area's administrator.

He kept track of who lived here, who owned what businesses, what properties were safe havens. He helped keep things organized. Clementine took another sip of her drink. I couldn't help but do the same. Damn, so all this was right under our noses, I said. Well, secrecy is our virtue. It's how we survive. You've seen what happens when people find out about us. I nodded at that. We're not innocent, Clementine said. None of us are. But the people here, the Faye, they're not here to invade or take over.

They're just trying to live their lives in peace. Well, that much I think I can sympathize with, I said. I noticed. You know, I haven't thanked you for how much you've done yet, Clementine said. Kaylee in the bar, the sirens in the RV convoy. You knew that they weren't human, but you still did what you could to save them.

I respect that. I just did my job, I replied. Even if they're not human, I don't know, they didn't deserve to die. Not everyone believes that, Clementine said. I'm glad you did. I nodded before another question occurred to me. What about you and Cray's men? What about him?

Well, from what I saw, you could have torn off. all those men to pieces and not even broken a sweat. You didn't. By the river, you just threw most of them down the incline. You didn't kill them. You just threw them aside. At the diner, you let me arrest Kray, even though you had several chances to kill him and his men. I've got to ask why. If you're not really with the state police, why not just kill him and get it over with? Because that wouldn't be the end of it. She replied simply. I've killed tens of thousands of men in hundreds of battles over the past few centuries Sawyer. I have ended more lives than I even hope to count. And yet the rivers of blood have never stopped flowing. There's always more. Always.

These men think were monsters, killing them, even to protect. ourselves only validates that. It fuels the fire that drives them, kill them, and more will come. It becomes an endless cycle of violence. Violence is an old friend of mine, but it's taught me when to be gentle. So this is about proving a point then? I asked her. Yes and no. My sisters and I are powerful, but we aren't invincible. Sooner or later, we're going to die. Cray and his men have only further proved that to me. A few decades ago, no one could figure out how to reliably get past our attribution spell, but here stands Cray and his men with weapons that can harm me. That's no coincidence. That's the price of eternal war escalation.

I'm tired of it. I've lost friends, family, people I care about. It's exhausting. Cray and his men are likely smart enough to realize it's no accident they're still alive. I hope they think on that. If even just one of them does, it'll be enough. She finished her beer. After regarding the glass for a moment, she sighed and stood up. But I suppose I should get back to work, shouldn't I? The rest of Cray's group is still out there. So far they're keeping quiet. Could be they've even skipped town outright, but I'd like to be sure.

I'll see you around, deputy. I nodded. Yeah, yeah, I'll see you around, I replied. She settled up our tab. Then she gave me a simple half-wave as goodbye, before walking out the door. I finished my beer and then decided to call it a day. I had work in the morning.

The moment I came into the station the next morning, Biggs was up to greet me. There he is the man of the hour, he said. Hell of a way to show the rest of us up on your day off, huh? I was just following a lead. I said, well, can't say you didn't put the work in. Sawyer. Sheriff Smith stood in the doorway, sipping a cup of coffee. You did good. Well, thank you, Sheriff. I hope I didn't leave your hands too full. Craying his buddy's giving you trouble? Oh, not at all, Sheriff Smith said. Clementine actually brought them out to their office at Dayton yesterday.

They're already gone? I asked. I thought Clementine still had business in town. It was odd. she'd moved cray in his lot already. Eh, she headed out yesterday evening. Gotta say it's a relief to have them out. And a relief to finally close this damn case for good. He said. Yeah, I'll bet. I said.

Although I was a little distracted. Sheriff Smith stared at me before taking another sip of coffee. You keep going along like this, and I might finally have someone to take up the job. when I retire, Smith chuckled dryly, before turning and heading back to his office. I watched him go, standing mindlessly for a moment, as his final words echoed in my mind. They bothered me, but I couldn't exactly put my finger on why they did. In six years, Sheriff Smith hadn't once said something like that to anyone. Hell, he and I barely spoke outside of work.

We had no personal relationship. Now, suddenly, he was making some passing comment about taking over after he retired? Now, normally it wouldn't have bothered me. Hell, normally. I would have taken it as the highest compliment that man could possibly give. So why did it bother me? Was it because his story about Clementine and Cray didn't add up? But why the hell would he lie about that?

That didn't make sense. I sat down at my desk. That old familiar knot in my stomach had returned. I stared at my computer screen, then moved my mouse. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Biggs by the coffee machine. Sheriff Smith was back in his office, working away at his computer. Could it hurt to check up on Cray's file just for confirmation? Hell, I should probably check up on the file anyways.

make sure it was complete and all the details were accurate. Yeah, that's all I was doing. Why the hell would I feel anxiety over that? It's my job, wasn't it? So why did I have that nervous feeling in my stomach? I searched our system for a file on Joseph Cray. No results. I stared at the screen for a moment, eyes quietly narrowing.

No results. Didn't make any sense. I hesitated for a moment before searching another name. Klaus O'Donnell. No result. Now, that couldn't be possible. I'd watched Sheriff Smith personally put that prick in the back of his squad car two days ago. There had to be an arrest record.

I tried another name. Roland Oswald. No result. One more name. Anthony Lawrence. Nothing. The knot in my stomach grew tighter. It slowly faded into a sense of dread.

My fingers struggled to stay still as I went back to look at the names again. This time I didn't use their full names. I don't know, maybe those names weren't right. Maybe they were in the system under something else. Oswald. Nothing. Lawrence, Cray, Apostle, nothing. What about the victims?

Maybe there was something tied to them. Joffrey Vickers. Nothing. Hank Russell, Patricia Russell, Melissa Sinclair, nothing. All of the files were gone. All of them. Why? The sinking feeling in my stomach grew deeper.

My breathing was getting heavier. I tried to rationalize this, but I knew for a fact that we'd had files on Vickers. The Russell's and Melissa Sinclair two days ago, I'd created those files myself. Why the hell would they be missing? I tried to think of some kind of rational explanation for all this, but I just came up blank. There was no rational explanation. There just wasn't, unless...

Something Cray had said to me the other day, echoed through my mind, Our business is pest control. Parasites come in, and we exterminate them. Our business is pest control. Interesting choice of words. I haven't thought much about it at the time. I didn't need to. He spoke as if he was providing a service. I just assumed that in his mind he was. But then how had he known about the Faye in this town? How had they known about Vickers? Apostle's website had indicated they were based in Cincinnati. Neither Cray nor any of the men we'd arrested were from around here. So why had they come here? Pest control doesn't just show up out of the blue. Somebody calls them in. My mind returned to that abandoned auto garage they'd been using.

It hadn't been listed as an office on their website. Why would it be? It seemed they'd been more or less squatting. there. Although that couldn't be the case, could it? The cars they'd used had been registered to that address, an address that had been owned by Smith Volkswagen. I opened up Google, and I did a quick search right there on their website, right above the Volkswagen logo, was another logo, Aaron Smith Auto Group. I clicked on that, and was redirected to a landing page for the entire Aaron Smith Auto Group, It didn't take me long to find a list of dealerships they owned.

Chrysler, Toyota, Nissan, Infinity, and Audi. I stared quietly at that last one. The address wasn't in town, but it wasn't far either. 30, maybe 45 minutes away. I remember the flashing lights on the cars they had used. They looked a lot like the light bars on a police vehicle. A dealership would probably only... put lights like that on a car if they'd actually been ordered by a police force. Audis were a

little fancy for cop cars. But if the owner of the auto group just so happened to have a brother who was the sheriff in a nearby small town, they might not be inclined to think too hard about a strange order like that. So far, this was just speculation. But it probably wouldn't be hard to get proof that the Audies registered to that old auto garage had been purchased from the Aaron Smith Auto Group. And if it did? What then? What else would I find if I kept digging? You car shopping? Biggs asked. I jumped a little at the sound of his voice. Oh, yeah, yeah. Transmission in my car has been making a noise lately. I lied. Might be time to put the old girl out to pasture, you know. Yeah, I get you. Big said, setting a cup of coffee down. Had some pretty good experience at the Nissan store if you want my two cents.

Yeah, I asked, before looking back on my screen. Yeah, yeah, I'll need to look into that. I picked up the coffee almost absent-mindedly, before pausing and looking up at Biggs. Hey, so Clementine moved Kray and the others last night, huh? I was just looking to update my report and all that, you know? Yeah, and last night, Biggs replied. How'd that go? I can't imagine that lot went quietly. He shrugged. I mean, you'd be surprised.

Anyways, don't worry about the reports I updated him this morning. His tone was casual, nonchalant. "'Yeah?' I asked. "'Keepin my voice level.' "'Well, thanks for saving me the trouble. "'I was having some issues with the system. "'Doesn't seem to be loading any of the files on this case for me.' "'Eh, I mean, that's our system for you, huh?

"'Give it an hour that usually works for me,' he replied. "'I looked up at him before nodding slowly. "'That's our system for you, right?' "'I thought. Our system wasn't exactly state of the art, but in six years I'd never lost files like this before. And as far as I knew, neither had Biggs or anyone. Yeah, yeah, I'll give it a bit, I said. That sinking pit in my stomach was still there, though now it came with an unsettling uncertainty.

Biggs took a sip of his coffee. I didn't do the same. He was still smiling at me, but there was something in his eyes, an intensity that I didn't recognize. Nervousness. Anxiety. Why? Why would he and Smith feed me such shallow lies? Did they really think I wouldn't know better? No, no. Biggs had to know I'd know better. Let me know if it's a problem, and there's got to be somebody we can call. He said, before turning and heading back to his desk, I could feel him watching me out of the corner of his eye. What the hell was going on? The shallow lies, Smith kissing my ass, Biggs being so on edge after giving me a coffee, the fact that he was still glancing at me. I looked down

at my coffee. It looked normal. It smelled normal. Biggs was still watching me. I raised the mug to my lips, as if I was about to take a sip, but I actually didn't drink any. He was still watching me. He wasn't moving. It wasn't working. The man was a lot of things, but he wasn't a good liar. I set the mug down, exhaling as if I just had a long sip. Biggs finally looked away from me.

But his body language seemed tense, uneasy. It wasn't normal. A phone call on Big's desk. He jumped a little, as if it had startled him before answering. I watched him closely out of the corner of my eye. I barely listened to the words he said. He sounded so far away, as if he was barely there. We'll be right there, I heard him say, before he looked over at me. Hey, Sawyer, guess we got to go work for a living. You feel like taking a ride with me? We got a call? I asked.

Yeah, same old crap, thank God. Mrs. Roberts saw some kids skulking around the back of her property, probably smoking in that old shed she's got, and you know how it goes. Same old, same old, I replied, forcing a smile. Why don't we take these to go? I asked, holding up my coffee. Yeah, right, let me grab a better mug, he said. He got up.

Heading back to our little kitchenette for the travel mugs, as soon as his back was turned, I looked over at the mug on his desk. I could almost hear my heart racing in my ears. Before I could even stop to think it through or stop myself in general, my hands were moving. I took his mug and set it on my desk while moving mine onto his desk. That sinking feeling grew deeper. My heart thudded. What the hell am I doing?

I had no proof that there was anything wrong with the coffee Biggs had given me. No actual proof. But the way he'd stared at me, the way he'd seemed so focused on watching me drink it, the sheer wrongness of the past 20 minutes. Maybe I was just paranoid. God, I hoped I was just paranoid. But if I wasn't... Well, guess I'd soon find out.

I looked around to make sure nobody had noticed what I'd done. Lopez was stole at his desk. He was turned towards me, but looking at his phone and distracted. Sheriff Smith was in his office. He probably hadn't seen either. When Biggs came back with the travel mugs, he didn't seem to notice the switch. I saw him dump the contents of my mug into the travel mug without a second thought. I took a long sip of the coffee I'd stolen from him.

It was too sweet. Biggs took it with more sugar than I did, but now it's fine. He handed me my own travel mug, and I poured the rest of the coffee into it. Ready to hit the road? He asked. Yeah, yeah, always, I replied. We headed out to one of the squad cars together. I went to go in the driver's seats, although Biggs stopped me. Hey, you know, this one's my call. I'm driving, He said. I paused. You sure? Yeah, I'm positive.

Hey, you're riding shotgun, he replied. I hesitated before going over to the passenger seat. Biggs got behind the wheel and keyed the engine. I put my seatbelt on and tried not to stare at him as we hit the road. Gotta say, it's nice to finally have a normal call again, he said. I watched him reach for his travel mug and take a sip. He paused, brow furrowing a bit as he tasted the coffee. He stared down at it, his body tensing up slightly.

Yeah, it's nice to go back to normal, right? I asked. Biggs looked over at me, eyes wide. He didn't answer, but I could see the quiet terror in his eyes. It said more than any words could have. I picked up the other coffee mug and took a sip. My eyes still locked with his. You know, I'm assuming we're actually going to Mrs. Roberts' place, I said. Biggs had gone a shade paler.

His entire body was trembling, and his breathing was heavier. The car was slowing. He didn't speak. He just stared ahead, voice-cracking. as the reality of our situation dawned on him. What was in the coffee, Ethan, I asked. He looked back at me. His breathing still growing more labored.

His eyes looked unfocused. I saw him reach for his gun, and I lunged for him, pinning him to the seat. My eyes burned into his. Biggs fought against me, but I was stronger. I could see a quiet desperation. on his face as he fought to get his gun. But his struggles were quickly growing weaker. What was in the coffee, Ethan? My voice was firmer now, demanding an answer. Biggs eyes were struggling to focus on May. He blinked slowly, as if he didn't understand. Evidence lockup,

he finally sat. His words slurred and distorted. Hoffman's bust. Hoffman's bust, I thought. Fentanyl. Big's eyes were drooping. His body went limp as he lost consciousness. He was dying. Even though he'd tried to kill me,

I couldn't just let him die. I had to get him to a hospital. You son of a bitch, I said under my breath. I shifted the car into park, so it wouldn't roll before undoing his seatbelt. I then grabbed him under the arms and dragged him into the passenger seat. I opened the door behind me, getting out to make room for him. He slumped into the passenger seat as I closed the door and rounded the car to get into the driver's seat. It was as I did

that I finally noticed the second squad car parked on the road behind us. The driver had already gotten out and was calmly smoking a cigarette as he aimed his gun at me. I froze the moment I saw him, and I just looked him in the eye. Well, this is inconvenient, isn't it? Sheriff Smith said coolly. You, I replied, but couldn't make myself finish that sentence. For what it's worth, I do admire your drive, Sawyer, the sheriff said, I've always liked that about you.

That's why I hired you on, and you didn't disappoint. You are a damn good cop, son. Except for when you're pulling the strings, huh? I replied. No, no. I don't fault you for doing your job, Soyer. Even if you pick the wrong side, you did your job, and, you know, I respect that. But here we are.

I guess Biggs ain't got long left now, does he? That stuff Hoffman seized was pretty potent. We can still get him to a hospital, I said. But the sheriff didn't lower his gun. No, you know, I like Biggs plenty, but right now, I think it's actually a little easier for me if he's dead. Don't do this, Sheriff, I said. Seems to me like you've already done it.

And from where I'm standing. and there's only a couple of things I can really do. Why don't you take out your gun, Rick? Take it out nice and slow. Then toss it to the side. I hesitated. My eyes shifted to the sheriff's squad car. I could see a dash camera staring at me.

Odds are it was recording. Sheriff Smith couldn't shoot me in cold blood, not with a camera on. I knew that much. I waited, weighing my options for a moment, before slowly reaching for my gun. I kept my eyes locked on the sheriff the whole time. I didn't unholster it. I unclipped the holster from my belt and tossed it aside.

Smart man, he said, before approaching me with his gun still drawn. As he got closer, I noticed carvings. on the barrel of it, ruins similar to the ones I'd seen on Craze Gun. Rick Sawyer, you are under arrest for the murder of Ethan Biggs. You have the right to remain silent. He pressed me up against the squad car as he cuffed my hands behind my back, while reading off my Miranda rights. I could see Biggs laying silent in the passenger seat.

If he wasn't dead, then he soon would be. The sheriff just ignored him, dragging me into the back of his squad car and leaving Biggs to die. There wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. Odds are, I'd probably be joining him soon anyways. The cell door locked behind me as Sheriff Smith pushed me in. I looked back at him. My expression bitter. The memory of Biggs, dying alone in a squad car in the middle.

of nowhere was still with me. You know, son, I can't say this is personal. If I'd had it my way, you would have been like Biggs and understood the gravity of a situation we have found ourselves in. He said, oh yeah, yeah, sure, I mean, look how well you treated him, I replied. Look, I ain't the one that killed him, sire. That was on you, saying with the wrestles. vickers, and the rest of them. You know what? Tell yourself

whatever you want, Smith. They might have been the ones who pulled the trigger, but you're the one who gave them a target. Look, I saw a problem I dealt with it. I'm not accepting literal monsters living here, pretending they're people when they're not. I won't. This is our town, not theirs.

I don't care what kind of guff they spew about just wanting to live. spoke with Hank and Patricia Russell, you know. I heard their whole little spiel. Heard them talk about this secret society they got. Madness. That's all it is. Madness inviting and even more madness.

And I ain't going to accept it. They are bloodsuckers. It's in their nature, just like it's in a scorpion's nature to sting. So I started looking for answers. Solutions. I found Cray through an old army, buddy. Can't say I like a piece of shit much, but he does the work, and that's all I need. And what about the collateral? I asked.

Biggs was just the first. Keep going the way you've been going, and it's only going to get worse. Did you not hear a word I've been saying, son? These things are evil. I have to do what I have to do. and it's worth it. To save these people from something worse. All of this was worth it.

It was worth it. He repeated, and then he was gone. I sank down out of the cot and closed my eyes. My body felt heavy and numb. A deep exhaustion had set in. Part of me almost wished the sheriff, if we'd just nut up and put a bullet in me already, but no, Smith was too smart for that. Odds are he was going to wait, pin as much as he could on May, then find a convenient way

to take me out of the picture. Maybe he'd make it look like suicide, and maybe he'd just shoot me and say I was trying to escape. He could just really frame this however the hell he wanted, couldn't he? I kept trying to think of a way out of this. I kept trying to think of a way out of this. I kept trying to think of something. But I couldn't. I'm not proud to admit that this wasn't my first time spending the night in a prison cell. I'd never been on anything this bad before. But I'd had a few adventures back during my younger, more reckless days,

mostly bar fights that got out of hand. There was this one incident where I figured I'd take my dad's car for a joy ride and another where I damn near put a man in the hospital over a girl of all things. The army had straightened me out for the most part. It had given me structure, routine, and purpose. It taught me that there were other more productive places where I could redirect my energy. Can't say it was all sunshine and rainbows every step of the way, but it helped me figure myself out.

not just who I am, but who I wanted to be. Structure, routine, purpose. Those things are what kept me going on both the good days and the bad. With each and every hard knock life sent my way, the combat ops, the ugly cases from my days as a city cop, losing my wife. That was what helped keep me going. I didn't always want to.

God, some days I used. did not want to, but I did. Sitting in jail for Biggs's murder, though, I wasn't sure how to handle that. I tried to find purpose, but what purpose was there? Revenge? Justice. Pleasant thoughts, but not much else. I wasn't inclined to give into the false hope that I'd somehow find a way out of my cell. smarter men than I have tried that and failed. Granted, I wasn't exactly inclined to completely give in to despair either. Sure, I wasn't waiting on Smith to decide if it was time for me to die, but I wasn't just going to give up, either.

But I didn't really know what other options I had. Usually, there'd be something to keep my mind busy. Work, purpose, duty, obligation. Was I in a firefight? Just stay alive, keep moving, soldiers keep moving. Was I working a case that turned my stomach? Killed a little more of whatever faith and humanity I still had. Solve it? Keep moving. Soldiers keep moving.

Was I trying not to think about my wife's body, lying in her casket, amaciated from the years she'd fought the cancer. are off. Work. Keep moving. Soldiers keep moving. Work until you stop thinking. Do your job, do your duty. That's all you're good for. You're a soldier. Be a soldier. Soldiers keep moving. But what if I couldn't keep moving? What if there was nowhere to move now? I ran through the options in my head. I examined the cell looking for some way to break out. There was nothing. A cot, a toilet, a linoleum floor, and a barred door that didn't budge.

Even if it did. Smith was probably still there. So was Lopez and probably Hoffman. How the hell would I get past them? The sheriff would probably shoot me dead the moment he got a chance. All I'd achieve is dying quicker. Would it be better to wait? Hope Clementine smelled a rat just like I did.

That didn't sit right with me. Judging by the runes on his gun, Sheriff Smith knew what she was as well as I did. He was probably waiting for her. Clementine was tough, but she wasn't invincible. All Sheriff Smith needed to do was catch her with her guard down. I didn't just want to sit in hope. I didn't just want to sit and wait, but what other choices did I have?

For the first time in a long time, I felt like I truly didn't know how to keep moving. I didn't get a lot of sleep in my cell that night, even if my mind wasn't racing a thousand miles a minute, trying to find some fix out of my current situation. The bright lights outside and the sounds of the office made it impossible to sleep. I don't know what time it was when I heard Lopez come in. Early morning, probably. I would have expected Lopez to be off-shift by then. I recognized him by his footsteps.

Hoffman dragged his feet a little when he walked. There was always a tell-tale scrape of his shoes against the floor. Lopez, on the other hand, walked quickly and stepped lightly, as if he was afraid of being noticed. He stopped outside of my cell. And I looked up at him, watching as he unlocked the door. Smith want me already? I asked. Smith just left for the night.

Lopez replied. Come on, Sawyer, let's go. Go where? I asked. I don't know. Wherever the hell it is you want to go. Leave town, fight back. I don't know. I narrowed my eyes at Lopez. and he stared back at me with a quiet determination. You could get in a lot of trouble for this, I said.

Why help me? Look, I'm not blind to deaf, Sawyer. I know something isn't right here. I may not know exactly what, but I'm not going to just stand by and ignore it. I saw Biggs in evidence taking the fentanyl this morning. I saw you switch cups with him. Now Biggs is dead. dead, and Sheriff Smith is saying you murdered him. No, no, that doesn't track. And then there's

Cray. As soon as Clementine was done sweating him and his buddies, the lot of them just disappeared. And now there's been another shooting. A whole family this time. A mother, father. Kids. Lopez said as he continued. And the day after, Cray just inexhaired. explicably goes free. No, no, that is not a coincidence. Whatever's going on here, I won't be a part of it. So let's go, man, let's fix this. I looked up at him, and I nodded, before getting up and putting a hand on his shoulder.

Thank you, Noah. He turned, leading me back into the office. The door opened, and we saw him. stepped out under the lights. My car's just out front, he said. As he stopped by the locker with my personal effects in it, you just tell me where to go and I'll take you right there. He handed me my phone, wallet, and keys.

I'll tell you once I know, I said, unlocking my phone and looking for Clementine's number. I didn't waste any time texting her. Smith hired Cray need to meet now, I said. I figured it was better to get the important news out first. In the meanwhile, let's get the hell out of here, I said. Lopez gave me a nod and headed for the door. Only is he dead.

I saw a figure step into view. I'm disappointed in you, Lopez. You always showed a lot of promise. Sheriff Smith was calm and cold. Behind him, I could see Steve Hoffman leaning on a wall, staring at Lopez with a blank expression. We both froze, as Sheriff Smith regarded us with a quiet disgust. You know, I never thought you two would be traitors.

But I guess people are full of surprises, aren't they? I guess there are, Lopez replied. He stared down Smith and Hoffman, with a coldness that seemed out of place for him. Think about what you're doing, Noah. You're letting a dangerous man free, the sheriff said. You and I both know that's a lie, Lopez snapped. Is it? Look here, you let that man free, in one way or another, more people are going to die.

You really want that? You really want more blood on your hands. We are at war, Lopez. Whether you want to accept this or not, we are fighting for our future, for the town's future, for our survival. Is this really the side you want to choose? Considering your side's been killing innocent people, yeah, Lopez said. My God, Lopez, you have no,

idea what is going on, do you? They aren't innocent. They aren't even people. We either wipe them out, or they're going to kill us all. Do you not understand that, son? The sheriff said. I could see Lopez glaring at him, and a part of me already knew what he was going to do. No, I don't.

I warned. But I could already see that Lopez wasn't going to listen. I don't know what he was thinking. I don't know if he felt like he had to atone, or if he just didn't see any other way out of this. I know that he wasn't naive enough to believe for one second that he was going to survive this. But he reached for his gun anyway. The sheriff drew first. I heard the gunshots.

Three in rapid succession. Lopez fell to the ground, and it was a mercy that he died instantly. I ran. I wasn't dumb enough to make a move for the front door. Instead, I ran for the back of the station, down the short hallway that led to the bathrooms. A fire exit loomed before me, and I threw the door open. An alarm sounded. I took off towards the tree line behind the station, and I disappeared into the woods.

Looking back, I could see the two of them behind me, silhouetted by the lights from the station. They ran into the trees after me, although they couldn't see me. I kept running, moving as quietly and quickly as I could. He went this way. I can hear him. I heard Sheriff Smith yell. I could see flashlight beams behind me. In my gut, I thought they were going to find me. And I knew that when they did, they weren't going to bother dragging me back to my cell now.

So I kept on running, stopping only when I nearly fell off a steep incline. I could hear the river ahead of me down near the bottom of that incline. I looked back again to see the flashlight several feet behind me. They were getting closer. I made a choice then, and I slid down the incline toward the water. I didn't actually go in, though. Odds are, that'd be too much noise. But there were fallen trees and bigger rocks to hide behind.

Didn't take me long to find one. I scrambled behind a raised dirt ridge and looked up to the incline to see the flashlight searching for me. I could hear the sheriff and Hoffman talking, but couldn't make out what they were saying. I watched them search for a few minutes. One of the shapes, I think it was Hoffman, went down the incline.

I saw him walk along the river shore. I tucked into my hiding spot, watching as he walked right past me. But the darkness kept me safe. Hoffman kept on walking, only able to see what his flashlight lit up. After a while, I heard Sheriff Smith yelled down to him.

All right, let's check closer to the road. After a few minutes, he was gone, and all was silent. I waited until I saw no trace of their flashlights, and when I was certain I was alone, I moved again, following the river away from the station. I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. There was a new message from Clementine. About 40 minutes later, I sat silently in the woods watching the road. Across from where I sat, a sign with a grinning Aaron Smith stared. down at me. You're in Smith country. A pair of headlights rolled to a stop ahead of me. I didn't move until I saw Clementine get out. She paused, looking around for a moment. Then she somehow noticed

me, despite the absolute darkness. I didn't hide from her. I just breathed the sigh of relief. She approached me immediately, putting her hands on my shoulders and giving me a quick inspection. Sawyer, you hurt? I'm fine, I replied. She regarded me with a quiet skepticism before stepping aside. I slid into the passenger seat and looked over at her as she got in beside me. She looked exhausted. I didn't need to ask why.

How bad was it? I asked. Bad? She replied. Five bodies. The Mason family. The faces of Sydney and Loretta Mason went through my mind. They'd been at the scene of Vickers' Dev. I'd taken their statements, even though they hadn't seen much.

"'Wherewolves?' Clementine said. They hit them fast enough that most of them never got a chance to fight back. No survivors.' I closed my eyes. "'I'm sorry,' I said. although the word seemed hollow. You're not the one who killed them, she finally said. No, that falls on Cray, Smith, and everyone working under them.

No, no, it's my fault. I should have realized it was Smith sooner, I said. And if you did, who's to say you wouldn't have ended up in a cell or worse all the sooner, too? now we know who's to blame. So now we can do something about it. I nodded. Smith's tough. And judging by the ruins on that gun of his,

he's expecting a fight with you. Then he's going to be unpleasantly surprised. I'm not going to give him one. Clementine replied. I looked up at her. What do you mean? One mark of a great soldier is that he fight on his own terms or fights not at all. The art of war.

I'm not going to be goaded into a fight by a man who's already taken steps to win. Even if I killed him, with his dying breath, he'd find validation. No, as you said before, I have a point to prove. I almost laughed in disbelief. You want someone to arrest them? And how the hell do you plan on doing that? Dominic Smith is the law in this town. And with Lopez dead, there's nobody left.

There's you and there's me, Clementine said. We're going to figure it out. I did not like that answer one bit. But I wasn't about to argue with the one friend I had laughed. Clementine kept driving until we'd left the county. She didn't stop until we reached an old run-down farmhouse. At a glance, didn't seem like anything special. But as we came in off the road, I spotted a number of RVs parked near the back of the property.

I stared at them as we passed before quietly looking back toward Clementine. She didn't say a word. She only pulled up in front of the farmhouse and stopped the car. "'This some kind of safe house or something?' I asked. "'No, but I made some friends here,' she replied. "'Safe houses were never really part of the plan when we started setting up in towns like this. Looking back, they really should have been. But I found a way to make do.'

She climbed the stairs to the porch and dusted off her shoes. Then she knocked twice on the front door. I heard movement inside before the door opened, and we were greeted by the warm smile of Dr. Brian Miller. I was almost taken aback to see him, although he hardly seemed surprised to see me. Deputy Sawyer, Clementine. Come on in. He stood aside to let us in, and I quietly followed her inside. Dr. Miller's house was cozy. There's not really any other words I can think of to describe it.

It wasn't clean, but it wasn't what I'd called dirty either. There were toys and cran drawings scattered about. It looked cluttered yet full of life. Well, find a seat, make yourselves comfortable. You want me to grab you a drink? He asked. Uh, yeah, yeah, whatever's in the fridge, I said. One of your beers, please.

Clementine added. Dr. Miller nodded and took off toward the kitchen. Clementine headed for the living room. I could hear the TV on inside, and as I followed her, I spotted yet another familiar face sitting in front of the TV. I hadn't expected to ever actually see her again, but Kaylee sat comfortably on the couch, wrapped in a warm blanket.

She looked over at me as we came in. Her fiery hair spilled over her shoulders, and her wide eyes studied me closely. Sawyer, you remember Kaylee? Kaylee, Deputy Sawyer. Just Sawyer's fine, I said. I don't think I'm really even a deputy anymore. Oh, um, hey, Kaylee said. I got the feeling that this was as awkward for her as it was for me.

I looked over to Clementine, hoping I might get an answer out of her as to why exactly Kaylee was at Dr. Miller's house. What? You thought you were the only friend I've made while I was in town? Clementine asked. Miller had questions about the victims. I answered them. He offered his help. And since I needed a place to move the local siren community until this situation was resolved, I took him up on his offer.

Yes, yes, it's no trouble, really. Dr. Miller said as he came back in, carrying three beers. These people are scared. They don't really have anywhere else to go. I just did the neighborly thing like anyone would have. He handed one beer off to Clementine. It had no label, but the liquid inside looked darker than normal. And it had a slight red tinge to it.

The second beer was normal and went to May, and he kept the last beer for himself. Anyways, hell of a day you've had, ha, Sawyer. Yeah, hell of a day. I don't suppose you've gotten any calls about Lopez yet. Lopez? No, no, why? I didn't answer. I just quietly took the cap off my beer, watching as the quiet realization hit him.

Oh, no, no. How? Smith. He shot him dead in the middle of the station once he realized Lopez was helping me. Dr. Miller's expression was grave. I could see the gears in his head turning. If I haven't gotten the call yet, odds are I won't until someone else finds the body. My God, Smith at least had the decency to call in Biggs himself. Biggs. I stared down on my beer. And one day, I'd just lost two friends.

Dr. Miller rubbed his temples. Oh, what a mess. Clementine and I had a chat while she was in the car on her way to pick you up. She filled me in on a few things. Smith hiring Cray, letting him go, ordering Biggs to poison you, and now this. I don't even know where to start. We start with Smith. I began.

Cray and his boys are in the wind. I don't even know where to start looking for them, and even if we did, Smith would be in our way. So long as he's out there, he's the one in control. So we need to get rid of him. Clementine here doesn't want to kill him. Can't say I'm fully on board with that. But I guess I'll still try and humor her. So instead, we drag him out into the light.

Expose him for what he really is. But how do you know the corruption stops at Smith? The question came from Kaylee, and all eyes turned toward her. You've done a lot for us, Mr. Mr. Sawyer, you saved my life. You put your own life on the line to save my sisters. But you and Dr. Miller, your exceptions to the rule. She's right, Dr. Miller admitted.

Exposing Sheriff Smith might not exactly sink him. We're still siding with the bloodsuckers here. Um, no offense, ladies. Clementine shrugged. None taken. Although exposing Smith is still risky. I've told you both before, secrecy is our virtue. It's hard to expose a man who's targeting us without also exposing ourselves, Clementine said.

And how do you know they won't take his side if you did expose him? Kaylee asked. They were right. How do you pin crime? against monsters on a man, without exposing that monsters exist. I thought for a moment, realizing that there was only one simple answer to that question. You can't? I sighed.

Well, there's the rub. You can't investigate a crime inside of Pandora's box without first opening the box, can you? I said. Clementine frowned. perhaps not, but if we kill him, there will be more like him, more craze, more smiths. There's going to be more like him either way, Kaylee said. We came to this town and we did nothing.

We fed, sure, but we fed in moderation. We didn't kill, we didn't leave bodies, we didn't cause a scene. We kept to ourselves, taking only what we knew. needed to survive, and they still came for us. That doesn't make it wise to escalate things further, Clementine said. Cray has friends. The moment we start racking up a body count, he calls those friends in.

Then this becomes worse. A full-on war of attrition. I've been down this road before. I've seen where it leads, and I'm not doing it again. We need to take them out using their rules. But their rules don't apply to us, Kaylee snapped. We're not human. Lopez was.

I said softly. And the others looked at me. You know, maybe we're looking at this from the wrong angle. We're looking at exposing the crime. But maybe what we should be exposing is the cover-up. Smith didn't expect one of his own to catch on to cray. But when I did, that created a mess he needed to clean up. He tried to get rid of me by having Biggs poison me,

and when Biggs got himself killed instead, he kept me alive to use me as a scapegoat. That's why Lopez turned on him. And when Lopez turned on him, Smith tried to kill us both. We don't need to expose Smith for bringing in Cray. We just need to expose him for covering it up and let the state police unraveled arrest. I looked over at Dr. Miller. Sooner or later, you're going to get a call about Lopez.

That might just be our way to corner him. Might be, Dr. Miller said. But you said Smith shot him, right? If that's the case, all I could really prove is, what kind of gun was used to kill Lopez. Odds are, Sheriff Smith used his service pistol. The same kind of gun you've got. He could easily pin the murder on you.

It'll be your word against his. And he's already got one death pinned on you. And Hoffman is a witness, Clementine added. I bit my lip. Dr. Miller was silent for a moment. before letting out a quiet sigh. I'd ask if there are video cameras at the station, but even if there are,

Smith would have deleted the footage, he said. I nodded. There has to be something. Some way to prove it was Smith that killed him, I said. A full forensic investigation would probably do it. But given the power Smith has,

he could quash that pronged that person. pretty darn fast, Dr. Miller said. Unless... You've got an idea? I asked. Well, one. But I can't say I'm enthusiastic about it. I looked up at him, curious. Without a full investigation or any serious evidence that Smith killed Lopez,

it'll be your word against his. So, you need a way to discredit Smith. Make it clear he's a liar. I might be able to help with that, but it's a risk. His attention shifted to Clementine. I saw her give a single nod. You. That attribution spell you've got.

It protects you, doesn't it? From most things, why? She asked. Well, do you think you can give me something similar? He asked. Clementine thought for a moment, before nodding. It wouldn't be exactly the same, but I do know a few spells that might do the trick. What exactly are you thinking?

Dr. Miller told us, And he was Balzy. Good God, was it Balsey. But it had a chance of working. The call about Lopez's body came in at 4 a.m. Apparently, Steve Hoffman had discovered it while coming back from patrol. Dr. Miller went out and did his thing. Examine the crime scene with Hoffman and Smith,

then took the body back to the morgue. Hoffman said that the station's security cameras had been wiped and shut off, because of course they had. His theory was that I'd somehow found a way to pick the lock on my cell and slipped out. Lopez had caught me, tried to stop me, and gotten shot for it. Noah Lopez had died a hero, he said. At least they kept that part true. At 540, Dr. Brian Miller returned to the county morgue, with a body of Noah Lopez.

After that, he made a call to Clementine. While technically she wasn't with the state police, she was still the de facto officer they'd sent to deal with a recent crime spree in our little town. At 6.30, Dr. Miller called his wife to wish her good morning. He told her to say good morning to the kids when they woke up too. Then, after a light breakfast of a toast bagel with strawberry cream cheese, he performed his examination of Lopez's body.

As expected, the cause of death was three gunshot wounds, two to the head and one to the neck. Death had been instant. He did his autopsy, along with some tests, before calling Clementine again to give her an update. Then, at around 9.30 a.m., he got himself a coffee and called in Sheriff Dominic Smith. Sheriff Smith arrived at around 10.03 a.m. He came in through the door with Deputy Hoffman

nipping at his heels like a faithful pup. Have you been here all night, Miller? Smith asked. Well, you got a strike while the iron's hot. Dr. Miller replied, I just finished patching poor Lopez up. What you see is what you get. Two shots to the head, one to the neck. Ten millimeter. to Rones. Mind guess? From one of your service pistols. Yeah, tell me something I don't know, Sheriff Smith said. You know, I never thought that Sawyer was that kind of man, Dr. Miller said. Poisoning Biggs, then shooting Lopez in cold blood. Any idea why he did it?

I can't make heads or tails of it, Smith said. My best bed is that he started working with Kray at some point. Really? That sounds like a bit of a stretch, Dr. Miller said. Wasn't he the one who brought Kray in? No, that was Biggs. The sheriff began. He'd put in a bit of extra legwork,

pieced the whole thing together before any of us and damn fine work he did. Damn fine work. Dr. Miller agreed. But that's odd. I actually had a chat with Lopez yesterday. It's funny. He said Biggs was the one who got the fentanyl out of the evidence locker. That's odd, isn't it?

Biggs died of a fentanyl overdose. It's a bit suspicious that he's the one who took the drug that killed him, don't you think? Sheriff Smith's eyes narrowed, What the hell are you implying? Oh, well, I'm no cop, Sheriff, but I hear tidbits here and there. I'm just saying there's a few things that don't seem to add up. Such as? Well, Lopez seemed to think that there was something fishy with Biggs' murder.

Now he's dead, too. And then there's the matter of crows. and his boys. You know, before he disappeared, Soya mentioned to me that they were using that old auto garage outside a town as an office. Doesn't your brother still own that property? And the cars they were driving, Audies, fancy,

and funny, since your brother also owns an Audi dealership. Smith's expression continued to darken. Then there's the bodies of the shooting victims themselves. You've seen my reports on those, right? Dr. Miller looked up, looking Sheriff Smith dead in the eyes. I don't like your insinuations, Miller. Smith said coldly. Well, I don't like them either.

I can't say I've got any cold, hard facts yet, but I'll bet they wouldn't be hard for the state police to find with a little bit of digging, would they? The sheriff's mouth twitched. The one thing I haven't figured out yet is why. Why allow this in your own town? Dr. Miller asked.

Like I told Sawyer and Lopez, were at war. This is ugly work. But it's necessary. You've seen the bodies, You know what's out there? Vampires. We're wolves.

Real monsters. You know what they are, the sheriff said. I know they're dead because of you, Dr. Miller said. And I know you're killing your own men to cover up your involvement. Okay, you know, I'm clean in house,

Smith began. This is Smith County. My county. My home. I will not let it be overtaken by those things. Do you have any idea how crazy you sound right now? Dr. Miller asked. Crazy.

Did you... Doc, you just called me crazy? You know, what's crazy is ignoring the fact that they are actual literal vampires in this town. And they expected me to just ignore them. No, absolutely not. It is my job to protect the people of this town. The things I've done, they may not be pretty.

But they were necessary. Tell that to the state police, Dr. Miller said, Are you going to report me, are you? Sheriff Smith asked. You sure that's the wisest idea? His hand hovered over his gun. I saw Dr. Miller looking at it before locking eyes with Smith again. I've already discussed this with Clementine, Dr. Miller said. And you think she's really the state police?

Smith asked. No. I'm not sure exactly who she's with or even what she is, but she's got no real power. And soon it'll be my word against hers. Sheriff Smith pulled his gun. Dr. Miller tensed up knowing what was coming. You know, it's a shame, Miller. I liked you, Smith said.

Before Miller could say another word, the sheriff pulled. the trigger. Miller cried out in pain and collapsed back onto the floor, clutching at his chest while Smith approached him, leveling the gun to his head. And that's when the doors flew open. I saw ununiformed state police pour in through the doors guns drawn. Smith froze, looking at them with a quiet disbelieve. Hoffman immediately put his hands up, backing off, but Smith hesitated and until the moment he saw Clementine standing amongst them. I may not be a cop, but I have connections, she said. She raised a radio to her mouth, and I heard her voice crackle through the radio on my desk behind me.

Sawyer, do you have the footage? I have everything. I said back into the radio. Smith's head turned to look around, before he finally saw the camera that Dr. Miller had set up. The camera that I'd been watching through the entire time. It had recorded everything. No. There was genuine disbelief in his voice, as the gun fell from his hands. Clementine pushed past him, joining a couple of other officers who'd run to check on Dr. Miller. She helped him into a sitting position. While she did, I left my monitor behind. I had. I had. I I stepped out of the back room of the coroner's office to join the rest of them.

Smith looked at me, with complete disbelief, as if he couldn't fully believe what was happening to him. One of the state police grabbed him, forcing his arms behind his back. Dominic Smith, you're under arrest for the murder of Noah Lopez and the attempted murder of Dr. Brian Miller. He still stared at me as they read him as Miranda rights. I stared right back. Vampires, huh? I asked.

Good luck selling that to a judge. You son of a bitch, he replied. He looked over at Dr. Miller. Clementine had pulled his shirt open, revealing Kevlar underneath. He still looked like he was in a lot of pain, but he was alive. I reached over and unpinned the sheriff's badge from his shirt. "'You maniac, you gonna damn this whole town, "'you're gonna get them all killed, all of them!'

Smith growled. "'I guess we'll find out,' I said, "'before letting the state police drag him off. "'There was still a part of me "'that would have loved to see Smith dead. "'But this was almost as satisfying. "'Almost.' Clementine walked over to me, looking at the sheriff's badge in my hand.

Guess you just got promoted. Not much of a promotion. I'm just the last one standing, I replied. Not exactly. We've still got backup. Let's put him to work, she said. The police station was quiet when I returned. Even Kristen, the receptionist, had left.

Walking past the police tape into the office, my eyes were drawn to the spot where Lopez had taken his final breaths, and I felt a cold chill run through me. Sheriff Smith was gone. This was my station now. But his aura still hung thick in the air. I exhaled slowly and headed towards Sheriff Smith's office. I sat down in his chair before I booted up his computer. my chair my computer it felt surreal wearing his badge the weight of it was heavy maybe because i knew what it meant i took one last deep breath and got to work first thing in the agenda sorting through smith's files emails documents anything i could find on the joseph cray case i'd sent the relevant files to the state police the rest I'd either send to Clementine or keep myself. It was about a half hour later that Clementine joined me. Her attention was instinctively drawn to where Lopez had died. I wondered if she could smell the blood that had since been cleaned away. Sheriff, she said.

And I must admit it sounded natural. Clementine, I replied. has the situation with Mr. Smith. He's on his way to Dayton. He's shut up about the vampires, but given the contents of that video we took earlier, I'm pretty sure he's well on his way to a prison psychologist. Good to know, and Dr. Miller?

I asked. He's just fine. The Kevlar did the trick. The spell I put on him didn't even activate, although a few more seconds, and we might have had a hard, harder time convincing the state police that Smith was insane. At least he's still alive, I said.

He's sent his autopsy reports for vickers, the rustles, and the others to the state police too, then, I asked. He has. No irregularities found in the bodies. His professional opinion is that there's no such thing as vampires, werewolves, or anything else of that nature. Good to know, I replied. So that ties up part of this nicely. Smith's out of the way. Your people stay hidden.

Now we just need to deal with Cray. My contact with the state police is leaving a few officers in town to help keep an eye on things while you wrap this up and rebuild the local police. Clementine began. You and him can go over the finer details later. For now. I don't suppose you found anything on cray. A little bit, I said, and gestured for her to join me by the computer. Remember how we talked about Vickers' list before?

Smith has it? She asked. I opened up a spreadsheet on the screen. It was filled with names and addresses. I saw Clementine's eyes narrow at the sight of it. Her attention shifted to the names highlighted in red. Joffrey Vickers Hank and Patricia Russell

Melissa of Sinclair River Sydney Loretta Mason Kaylee of Sinclair River Picking them off one by one Clementine said The question is who's next I asked You said the Russell's were influential

Same with Melissa What about the Masons They aren't the top werewolves in town, but they are related to him. Anybody I know? I asked. Before watching her move the mouse to click on a different name. Jack Dixon. I don't know how I didn't spot that name sooner.

The bartender at the honey pot in Spaniel. Loretta Mason's brother, Clementine said. That's the werewolf I've been talking to in. town. I looked at the address beside his name. It was the same as Sydney and Loretta Mason's. Dixon has an apartment above the bar, Plymantine began. Odds are, Cray was looking for Dixon when he attacked that address. And if he realizes he didn't get him, he's going to go after the honeypot and spaniel next. I finished. I nodded, staring at the screen. Then we know where they'll be,

Bessette. And we'll be waiting for them. I poured myself a beer as I stood behind the bar of the honeypot and spaniel. Was it professional? Hell no. Did I need a drink?

Hell yes. I stood behind the bar, a rifle sitting under the counter where I could reach it. The tables around me were empty, save for a few officers in plain clothes. They looked tense and on edge. I didn't blame them. Even with Kevlar and the promise of guns watching the door,

what we were doing was dangerous. But we needed Cray's men to think that it was business as usual tonight. We didn't want him to smell a rat. They couldn't know that Jack Dixon wasn't actually here. Clementine sat at one of the tables with her back to the door, calmly stirring a coffee. Unlike everyone else, she seemed perfect. perfectly calm. An uneasy tension hung in the air. The calm before the storm. I knew the feeling well. It was terrifying, but I was ready for it. Cray had been one step ahead of us the whole time. Now it was our turn. The radio under the bar crackled alive. Five Audi sedans on the street coming from the south. They were here.

Affirmative, wait for vehicles to stop, then set up roadblocks north and south, came a reply. I saw headlights in the rain outside. Craze, men. I saw the cars roll to a stop, and I took a final deep breath. Clementine finished her coffee and cracked her neck. God willing, this would go smoothly. But I knew better.

I could see the figures exiting the cars, all five were still running. I could see the massive shape of Joseph Kray behind the wheel of the front car. Eyes on target, the voice on the radio said. Positive ID on Joseph Kray in the front vehicle. South roadblocking place, north? Working on it. At the front of the pack, I could see Klaus making his way toward the bar.

I avoided looking at him, waiting until the moment he saw. stepped inside. His hair and suit was slick from the rain as he stepped inside the honeypot and spaniel, but he didn't carry a single ounce of subtlety with him. The man had come to kill a werewolf, and he looked ready for it. He carried an assault rifle with a grenade launcher attachment and had a look of bitter determination on his face. When he walked in, nobody moved. I saw Clow's pause. I saw his eyes dart around at the few plain-clothed officers scattered around waiting for him. I saw him glance at Clementine, and finally at me. His eyes narrowed. He didn't say a word and he didn't need to. He knew what he just walked into. Long time no seeing, I said, holding my rifle at the ready.

I was starting to wonder if you and Cray had skipped town. But I guess you couldn't leave the job half-finished, could you? I guess I couldn't. He said, I'd take it Smith out of the picture. He is. You could say there's a new sheriff around these parts now. I replied. More guns appeared in the hands of the other officers.

Clementine just watched him, her guns sitting on the table. existing as a warning, but not a threat. She stared at all of them, daring them to move, daring them to give her a reason. The gig's up, I said. And this time, Smith won't be bailing you out. His lips curled into an angry scowl. I could see his entire body tensing. He looked back towards his men, but they didn't seem to share his rage.

They looked at their situation, and they saw they'd already lost. Even Lawrence stood silent and uneasy. Even if they could shoot their way out and with Clementine there, that was a big if. They'd be killing Ohio's finest, not monsters. They'd be turning themselves into fugitives. I saw each and every man weigh his options, and each of them came to the same conclusion. They weren't dumb enough to shoot their way out. At least. Most of them weren't dumb enough. Looking back through the window and out of the street, several more officers approached

the parked Audies. I saw Roland Oswald getting out of one and putting the hand that wasn't in a sling up in surrender. I could see Klaus tensing up more as his focus returned to me. You think this is it, he asked. Look at your men. We got you surrounded. It's over, I said. I could hear his breathing grow heavier. Other officers kept their guns trained on him.

We won't go down without a fight, he said. And then I heard the roar of an engine. Cray's car suddenly moved, shooting back onto the road. He ran over two officers, knocking them aside as he took off trying to flee. I heard the gunshots, but they didn't stop him. Klaus took that momentary distraction to make his move. I heard the pop of his grenade launcher and immediately got down. He never got the chance to aim, but he still did damage.

The grenade hit the bar, turning a chunk of it into splinters. I felt the shockwave of the explosion. and I felt the splintering wood raining down on me. Bottles fell off the bar and shattered. His assault rifle roared as he tried to run, bursting out onto the street and into the rain. Before I could even think about what I was doing, I was following him. Klaus didn't even seem to be thinking.

He shot at whoever he saw friend or foe. I'm not sure who he killed. But I know that there was only one thought on that man's mind. escape. I aimed my rifle at him and fired twice. I know I hit him in the shoulder, but he didn't slow down. He just stumbled into the nearest car and threw himself behind the wheel. I fired at the car again, over and over as he hit the gas and it lurched forward. He skidded across the street, crashing into a building on the other side of the road. He scraped his car alongside it, before veering back onto the road and heading towards the north roadblock.

I could see a gap in the cars that formed the roadblock from where Cray had smashed through. They were running. I couldn't let them escape. I can't say I was fully thinking straight either with what I did next. But something needed to be done. I ran for one of the parked autis. The keys were still in the ignition. The engine was still purring.

I slammed the door behind me and hit the gas. In the rearview mirror, I could see Clementine standing in the street behind me. Then she ran for the fourth parked Audi. Downtown raced past me as I followed the taillights into the county. Even farther ahead, I could see craze. The two of them drove without direction or purpose. They only wanted to escape, and I wasn't going to let them. downtown quickly faded into country. Darkened trees raced past as the rain drenched my windshield. I heard the howl of an engine as Clementine's car passed mine, going well over a hundred. I hit my own gas, trying to keep up with her.

I found myself closing the distance between us. Clementine shot past Klaus, cutting him off in an effort to make him lose control. He just veered into the other lane as Clementine kept going faster for cray. I saw him turn sharply down a road leading out of the county, as if leaving the county would matter, as if it would stop me. He was headed for a bridge with concrete arches along the side. On them had a familiar banner that I could see illuminated by the headlights on the bridge. You're in Smith country. Klaus and I followed.

Clementine's car was catching up to him. Up ahead, I could see that Kray had reached the bridge. The yellow street lights illuminated his car, just as they showed Clementines coming up behind him. She shot past him at top speed before suddenly fish-tailing, using the back half of her car to block Kray's lane. He didn't have time to react.

But even if he did, it wouldn't have saved him. Clementine had just about fully blocked the bridge and he was going too fast to stop. He crashed into the back half of her sedan, damn near taking off everything past the rear wheels. Her car spun and crashed against the side of the bridge while Craze kept going. He lost control, hydroplaining along the bridge as he spun. His tires skidded against the wet asphalt. He tried to break. But all that did was launch him into the concrete arches of the bridge.

The entire passenger side of his car impacted it, hard enough to actually break through. If it hadn't been for that Smith country banner, he might have fallen in entirely. But somehow, that thing just barely kept his car on the bridge, acting as a makeshift safety net. I don't know if Klaus was planning on helping him or not as he sped close. But whatever his plan was, I don't think it worked out. On instinct, I let myself slow down, while Klaus swarved past the wreckage of Clementine's car and tried to do the same to the wreckage of Kray's car. He clipped the back end, skidding just like Kray did. His car fished tailed violently before rolling. The cabin crashed against the asphalt and crumpled like a discarded soda can.

The car rolled a few times before going still. I wasn't even sure if Klaus was still alive, and I didn't really care, as I approached the scene of the accident ahead of me. I came to a slow and steady stop. The three cars lay scattered around the bridge. Clementine's car was the closest. I saw her door fly open as she stumbled out. She took a moment to catch her breath before standing up tall.

She looked at me as I got out of my car. My headlights washing the scene of the accident in a fluorescent glow. What the hell were you thinking? I stopped them, didn't I? She replied. Yeah, and you damn near got yourself killed. I'm a Clementine. It's going to take more than that to kill me.

I shook my head at that. Then we both turned our heads to look at the two cars ahead of us. I let Clementine catch her breath for a moment before we approach the closest one. Joseph Cray's car. Through the broken rear window, I could see his massive frame trying to crawl from the driver's seat to the backseat. He looked up at us with gritted teeth. His face was covered in blood, and the lens on the left side of his glasses had gone missing. He raised his ruined pistol at us.

only to be greeted with two gun barrels staring back at him. He barely seemed to have the strength to move, let alone fight. But he still held his gun defiantly. I ain't dying to the likes of you. He spat. Then don't die, Clementine said. Right now that choice is yours. He spat at that.

It ain't a choice. I know what you are behind your pretty little masks, and one day the world's going to know. You're just monsters. No matter what you do, you won't change that. The banner holding Cray's car in place sagged. The car lurched a bit. I saw panic in his eyes, but he didn't lower the gun. If you die with that belief, that's on you, not on me, Clementine said. I've given you your choice.

I gave you all the choice. Your men chose. Now it's your turn. I've lived long enough to know that there's no value in death, no meaning. You'd die for nothing, all because you won't accept mercy. Are you prepared for that?"

I saw hesitation in his eyes. I saw the way her words sank into his mind. And then I saw determination. I saw his expression harden, and he moved the gun towards her. So I shot first. I hit cray in the chest. He jerked backward, eyes going wide. His gun went off.

but the bullet vanished into the night. Blood gushed past his lips as the banner holding his car finally gave way. It ripped, and Cray's car dropped into the river below. The banner snagged on the wreckage and was pulled from the bridge, plummeting down into the water along with it. We heard him scream, and then everything was silent. I could barely see the shape of the car in the river, tires facing the sky. Clementine's face showed no expression.

She simply stared down at the wreckage of the car and then quietly turned away. She didn't mourn for him, didn't pity him. She didn't really even care. He'd made his choice. And the nightmare was, finally over. In the months that followed, a lot happened. Dominic Smith took the brunt of the blame for it. The official story is that he either went crazy or turned corrupt and just pretended he was crazy. Either way, the victims were mostly laid at his feet. People knew what he'd done. They might not have

fully understood why, but they knew he was responsible. The town mourned its death. The town mourned its dead, never knowing what they really were. All they knew is that some delusional maniacs had killed them, and those delusional maniacs were now gone. Most of the apostles were taken in by the state police, all except for Joseph Cray and Klaus O'Donnell, who both died in a car accident on the bridge. To my knowledge, no one mourned them. The air in town, it was tense for a while. People kept waiting for the violence to start up again. But it never did. Time just marched on quietly and slowly. People became used to that quiet again. They began to heal. The RVs returned to River Ridge. Dr. Miller left the coroner position and opened up his own private practice in town.

The Mason and the Russell houses were purchased by new families who breathed new life into them. Things almost went back to the way they were. Almost. The scars, Smith, and Cray had left in our little town still lingered. And they still linger to this day. The Vickers property still sits abandoned. They tore down the burned ruins of the house, and now there's just a vacant lot there. The Smith country signs were taken down.

The Volkswagen dealership got bought by someone else who changed the name. The police station took a while to put back together. It took me a long time to hire new deputies. I was certain I could trust. But in time, I put together a decent crew and we make sure things stay quiet. Got to say. Deputy Kaylee Sinclair has been a standout. The girl's got the makings of a good cop in her.

Who knows? She might even be my replacement when it's finally time for me to retire. I wouldn't have a problem leaving this town in her hands once she's got a little more experience. Now sure, every now and then we have some trouble, and it's not always the usual bar fights or property disputes anymore. Sometimes a vampire or a siren. decides to get a little too rough while hunting. Sometimes a young werewolf causes trouble along the back roads.

I've learned how to handle that. I don't see Clementine often. She's busy. Stopping into a little back road county like this ain't all that high in her list of priorities. But she'll stop by for a beer with me and Dr. Miller if she's in the area. You know, just to see us. I like seeing her. She's good company, and it's nice to know we've got support for our non-human locals out there in the event that we needed.

God willing, we won't. But it's still nice to know she's there. I've got my quiet again. I've got my purpose. Soldiers keep moving. We keep the peace. And I'm content.