Clara had a rather long and grim history with Homo Stringa, colloquially known as ghouls. It was a ghoul who interfered with her parents’ remains.

It was ghouls who captured Edith, Clara’s former hunting partner, and left her to die slowly from an infection. Most recently, she had been taken captive by government agents and those soulless bastards used a ghoul to interrogate her.

Ghouls were carrion eaters, and not known for their intellect, creativity, or aggressiveness. While they could emulate human behaviour and speech, most who encountered a ghoul knew that something was off.

It did not help that ghouls were unusually gangly. People choose to ignore the unexplainable, because they have no interest in knowing the dangers that surround them.

She dropped into the crypt. While the crossbar was makeshift, it was sturdy enough to deter an attempted break and enter. On the nearest coffin, she found a key that she was sure would fit the locks on the doors. 

“A secure way in and out,” Clara mused.

She searched the crypt to find a gaping hole in the flooring where the dip ended. This was not unexpected, but she would have preferred to find nothing at all.

“Sometimes I hate being right,” Clara said before evacuating all the air from her lungs.

The first clue was the void of light between the doors. That meant someone had barred the door from the other side. Given there was a support column between these doors, she guessed that forcing these open would draw unnecessary attention.

The last clue was the source itself. Given the intensity, she doubted it was electric, and confirming her hunch would be relatively easy. Alas, there was no obvious way to get onto the roof. 

“Time to fly,” Clara said.

Clara confirmed she was alone and shed away her plain Jane persona. Within a minute, she took to the air, but maintained a minimalistic flight path to avoid being spotted.

“Well, that’s interesting,” Clara said.

From up here she confirmed the door was in fact barred from the inside. Since the dead were not known for locking up after themselves, Clara concluded that someone or something had done it. 

“Curiouser, and curiouser,” Clara said.

At first light, Clara was back at the cemetery. Before leaving the hotel, the bulk of her things had been picked up by a courier. That left her with little more than a light pack filled with the basics: pistols, ammunition, basic first-aid kit, a knife, lock picking tools and some rope. A gal has to accessorize.

Outwardly there was nothing peculiar about the cemetery. However, she noticed something peculiar to her last visit. It was a minor detail, even for a hunter, but one that pointed to a potential infestation.

She was back to the spot where she almost tripped. Her eyes followed the straight line until met a crypt. The depression was too long to be a grave, and given how old this cemetery was, she doubted this was a buried utility line.

In fact, the gravestones in this area were old enough that the carved lettering had faded. Years of rain, snow, and wind had smoothed out their surfaces rendering several ineligible. I’d imagine there’d be a public uproar, if a utility company tried to cut through a cemetery.

Evelyn: Are you watching the news? Please tell me you’re seeing this! 😲

Clara: It’s the top news story right now.

Evelyn: I’m so sorry! 😭

Clara: Why? You had no way of knowing that sending me in there would unleash a shitstorm.

Evelyn: What now?

That was a tough question, one that Clara lacked the situational awareness to answer. She had plenty of options, but they were all reactionary. What she needed was to get enough information to make a move and get ahead of this. At least there was someone she could turn to for help.

Clara: We need to meet. Soon.

Evelyn: No details. 🤫

This newscast reminded her of looking at herself in a funhouse mirror, the ones that distorted how she appeared in reality. Clara was not accustomed to dealing with anxiety, but her chest tightening and an associated drop in blood pressure gave her reason to worry. That’s distressing.

“We almost got her,” Silver said.

“Yes!” Sparky shouted.

“They are following in my—” Clara faltered.

“Quiet. She can hear us,” Ethereal warned.

Clara closed her eyes and focused until her heart rate settled. After several deep breaths, it was back to where it belonged, but the sisters continued to whisper in the background.

Tonight. Police are calling it a massacre…

“Is this a rerun?” Clara asked with a furrowed brow.

Authorities believe these crimes are related to the winged…

“How?” Clara asked.

Should we be concerned that this is the start of another rampage?

She swiped her screen and noticed a new notification. On instinct she tapped on the icon and was presented with a high-resolution video complete with audio. Now I know why it took her so long.

After watching for a couple of minutes with her jaw agape, Clara figured a reply was needed. I’ll have to get back to this video later…when I have more time to appreciate it…

“Perfectly imperfect,” Clara said and realised that it was far too hot for her to stay in the tub.

Clara: Wow! Well played.

Evelyn: All thanks to you. 🥵

It surprised Clara that she did not receive a picture in return, but Evelyn might have been busy. For all she knew the vampire had just finished sending a lover into one of her famous sex-induced stupors.

The imagery that came from that thought got under her skin. Her wet thumbs went white from pressing against the screen, which popped the phone from her hands and sent it plopping into the water. As her eyes glowed blue, Sparky laughed maniacally. 

“Horsefeathers,” Clara swore.

That emotional lapse was highlighting her vulnerability. Clara buried the voice, banishing Sparky to the deepest recesses of her mind. Once centred, she reached for her phone, and shook it vigorously.