Callum Harker was sitting at his desk, his head in his hands while he read over an old case file.

Being a Private Investigator wasn’t as interesting as he’d always imagined, but he was already in too deep. He’d sunk almost all of his money into opening his own office, and he had to take as many cases as he could to afford his rent.

The ones he had to take were always so boring. Unfaithful husbands, thieving maids, missing pets… just little things that made him enough money to settle his bills. He wanted something raw and exciting… something high-profile enough to allow him to move out of his tiny apartment on the fifth floor of an old, rotting building in the middle of the city.

There was a light knock on the doorway to his office, and a young man entered. He didn’t say anything as he sat in the chair on the other side of Callum’s desk, and Callum didn’t even bother looking up—he didn’t have to.

Quinn Murray was a detective for the local police force. He had aided Callum a few times—he was the only one who took him seriously. Despite that, the police always took credit for their work, and the only way Callum managed to get paid was through Quinn.

“What’s up, Quinn?” Callum asked. He took off his reading glasses and pushed the stack of paperwork aside.

“I’ve got a case for you,” he said, holding up a folder. “The department isn’t taking it seriously, as usual, so I thought maybe you’d like to take a look before it gets shoved away in a drawer somewhere. Maybe it’ll get you out of this stuffy office for a few days. It’s pretty intriguing.”

“I don’t know if you and I have the same idea of what’s intriguing or not.” Callum rolled his eyes, but still put his glasses back on and held out his hand for the file. “Let’s see it, then. What is it?”

“There’s a small county on the coast where the citizens have been falling ill. Apparently, a few of them have died, all from the same thing, and—”

Callum dropped the file onto his desk and let out a loud sigh without even looking at it. He took his glasses off again and tossed them on top of it.

“Do I look like a fucking doctor, Quinn? What am I supposed to do about that?”

“Would you let me finish, Cal?” He leaned forward and pushed Callum’s glasses aside before he flipped open the folder, and Callum sighed again. It was a stack of letters, all in the same handwriting. “There’s a doctor who lives on the edge of the town. He’s been sending us these letters for months, and they just keep getting tucked away. He claims to know what the cause is, and demands that a detective go out there to assist him. I offered, but they won’t cut me loose.”

Callum put his reading glasses back on and picked up the first letter, and made a face of disgust as his nose was assaulted with a pungent odor.

“They reek of garlic,” he said. “Is this guy some kind of quack?”

“I have no idea who he is.” Quinn shrugged. “He signs all of the notes with ‘MD’ at the end of his name, so I assume he’s legit, but you never know these days, especially with all the snake oil salesmen passing through.”

“You said this town is out of the coast?” Callum asked, and he nodded. He leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath. “That’s a long way’s away, Quinn.”

“Does that mean you’re in?”

Callum tapped his fingers on the desk, eyeing the folder. Even if turned out to be a total bust, a few days on the coast didn’t sound too bad. He hadn’t been out of the Capital City in years.

“Give me a few days to go through the letters,” he finally said. “After that, we’ll see. I’ll need to make travel arrangements if I decide it’s something worth pursuing.”

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To whom it may concern,

Umbra Harbor is under siege.

Young Lucy fainted this morning why serving my tea at the local tavern. She claimed to have not been sleeping well, and I found small puncture wounds on the side of her neck.

She claims she must have accidentally pierced herself with her brooch, yet doesn’t recall actually doing so. She was quite pale, as well. I prescribed garlic as a means of protecting her in the future from whatever may be trying to steal her life-force away from her.

I have known Lucy since I came to Umbra Harbor many years ago. She is a quiet woman, with many suitors, but no desire to accept any marriage proposals. While she is more free-spirited than many women of the town, she is not prone to flights of fancy, and does not humor my warnings of the supernatural at work here. It was quite difficult to get her to accept the prescription of garlic.

Lucy is the first of three persons to fall ill with symptoms of Chlorosis today, and like the others, has been strong and healthy up until now.

Something is draining the women of their life-force, and I am helpless to stop it. I can only do very little to try to protect the people of Umbra Harbor. I have not received any word from the Count or the Capital City. Please address our need for aid from the Crown.

Van Helsing, MD

Callum stayed late in his office that evening, reading carefully through each letter. They were all similar in nature, although with each one, the language grew more and more desperate, demanding that something be done to help the town.

There were medical records of each citizen too, mostly of things that the doctor found peculiar—though the doctor himself seemed just as peculiar—and prescriptions for garlic. The man liked garlic. Callum had no idea how something like that could possibly help the town with whatever was happening.

It was a small town on the east coast called Umbra Harbor, and both men and women alike were falling ill with the same symptoms. Sleepwalking, strange nightmares, pallor, visions, bouts of fainting… a few of the citizens had died from complications related to blood-loss, some completely drained of all their blood.

The doctor had also noted he had theories as to the root of the problem, but wouldn’t elaborate much in his letters. Not that Callum needed him to—it was clear to him that they were dealing with a serial killer who had knowledge of the human body and its circulatory system. Despite that, the doctor spoke of darkness and evil, and Callum didn’t know which parts of the stack of letters, if any, to take seriously.

To whom it may concern,

Today, young Wilhelmina has died. She was found in the fields, drained of all her blood, along with several of her cows. This is the first death, but the eighth case of blood-loss related events in recent months.

Wilhemina was young, strong and healthy. She is survived by her husband Jack and their two boys, little Edvard and Jonathan. I have given Jack ropes of garlic for the boys to wear for protection. Jack wears Willa’s rosary, so I don’t believe he needs the garlic.

The only wound on her body was the same as all the other victims—two small puncture wounds on the side of her neck And yet, her entire body was drained of its blood, and no evidence that she struggled before she died.

I am reminded of the bats of more temperate climates, but they would never survive here. If something similar to Desmodus Rotundus or the Vampyrum Spectrum are here, they are a being of Hell or an undiscovered species. Considering the size of the victims, I cannot believe it is a normal bat. I have no choice but to accept that the Devil is in Umbra Harbor.

I have received no response from the Count or the Crown, and now the people of Umbra Harbor are beginning to perish at the hands of this bloodsucking evil. I am urgently requesting that the Capital take this matter seriously and send aid to the town. We are at the mercy of this Darkness and we need help. I have done all I can.

Van Helsing, MD