It was a wonder that they managed to co-exist as the entity called Hecate. While they could exist as separate entities, this was the exception rather than the norm. That’s why I call them the sisters…

Genuine panic had been a rare occurrence in life, doubly so after ascending to Heaven. Clara figured she was wired differently from the norm, which enabled her to keep her emotions at bay. Such a talent was ideal for hunting things that went bump in the night. It turned out that a clear head was needed when fighting for survival. Who knew?

Ever since learning how to channel Hecate’s powers, such challenges had become the norm. This curse came with perks, and Clara loved to channel her anger into a coherent beam of energy. Who doesn’t want to embrace their inner wrathful goddess?

Something vibrated twice from the depths of her pocket, and roused Clara out of her slumber. While the dream had been pleasant, nothing more than a work of pure fiction. The fact it was designed to tease had soured her mood. In truth, she had betrayed Elizabeth, and not set eyes upon her for several months.

After letting out a long sigh and slumping into her seat, Clara opened her eyes and rubbed the sleep from them before taking out her phone. With a double-tap the screen came to life, and brought up the notification.

Clara was covered in blood, sweat, and caked on dirt after a long night of fighting werewolves. She stumbled into her apartment, and though weary went right for the bathroom. She stopped mid-stride, upon seeing the naked curves of the half-Asian woman standing at the threshold of the door.

“You took your sweet time,” Elizabeth said.

“Well, werewolves take a bit more effort to house train than a pug,” Clara answered. “I didn’t want them pawing at the door to be let out…”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Elizabeth said in a husky voice. “Would we?”

Clara picked up that Elizabeth’s heart rate was increasing in unison with her own. She smirked, but werewolf blood was decidedly not an aphrodisiac. To mar Elizabeth’s smooth skin with all that blood and grime made her skin crawl.

“I really should shower,” Clara said. “You want to help me get at those hard to reach—”

Videos purportedly filmed during the last investigation of the Ghoul Hunters, a lesser known group of paranormal investigators, were deemed to be an elaborate hoax.

For the past several months, videos containing the graphic footage of their rumoured demise have circulated the Internet. While these videos were pulled from mainstream sites because of their graphic content, hacker sites continued to host them, while drawing in millions of unique hits daily.

While thoroughly discredited by renowned experts in the field, the whereabouts of the group remains a mystery. Local police have stated the investigation is ongoing, and are aggressively pursuing leads.

Certain fringe groups claim the footage is undeniable proof of the paranormal. Concurrently, conspiracy theorists claim the Ghoul Hunter’s footage proves that the government is involved in an elaborate cover up. Claims which have been repeatedly denied by senior government officials.

In response to these naysayers, one expert had this to say, —You’d be surprised what you can do with a crabApple Phone these days.—

Tyler expected to feel something when he finally came face-to-face with death. Part of him hoped for a blinding white light to welcome him to the afterlife. Barring that, witnessing the entirety of his life passing before his eyes would have sufficed. Disappointingly, there was nothing at all.

The concierge was pushed back by the force of the explosion. He received a face full of shrapnel, including bone matter from the first victims.

Max was going to have a hell of a time explaining this to the Boss.

One…

Tyler watched as Lauren recovered and made a mad dash towards him.

Two…

He glanced at his phone, a notification showed the progress of multiple file uploads. So far, thirty pictures and two videos had been uploaded with another just about complete.

Three…

Tyler glanced at Max whose eyes were tracking the spoon’s arc through the air.

Clearly, the concierge was not familiar with the tools of a modern war. That grenade going off was sure to be a novel experience for their host.

Four…

Tyler broke a smile. Meanwhile, Lauren collided with enough force that she toppled him over.

“Fuck you!” Tyler swore.

“How the fuck did you end up here?” Max asked.

“We drove here. You invited us in,” Tyler said before a smile crept across his neutral features. Here’s as good of a place as any…

“Wrong answer,” Max said. “Care to try again?”

“Just a minute,” Tyler replied. He hugged Lauren before adding, “Can’t you see that you’re upsetting the lady?”

Max picked up the phone and selected one of the presets. The black wireless headset fitted to his ear gave him the freedom to move while the connection was made.

When the other side picked up, he said, “Cecil. I need a clean-up at the entrance.”

The concierge then focused on his remaining guests. 

The man removed his soiled gloves and disposed of them in the wastebasket. From the drawer he produced a fresh pair. In the interim, Tyler noticed those hands were mutilated. It was as though the skin had been removed to expose the muscle, sinew and bone. Was this the result of an accident? Or because of a punitive measure?

Tyler was distracted by a couple dressed in formal evening attire passing by, whereas Lauren stared out into the distance unaware of what was going on. He realised that the man and woman would look right at home in an old movie. They appeared to be oblivious to what was going on, but most likely Lauren and Tyler were not important enough to acknowledge. This place has been shuttered since the Great Depression? Right…