By the time he’d finished going through all the letters, Callum was exhausted, and unsure what to make of the situation. He lay on the couch on the other side of his office with his arm over his eyes, trying to decide if it would be worth traveling all the way out to the east coast. What if the doctor was really just some raving lunatic?
He was jolted awake later in the day but a loud rap on the doorway. Quinn was standing there, looking over him with concern.
“You look like shit, Cal. You didn’t go home last night?”
Callum sat up with a groan and stretched his stiff back. The contents of the Umbra Harbor file were scattered across the desk, filling the office with their garlicky odor.
“It was a lot to go through.” He stood and stretched his arms over his head. “What are you doing here?”
“We got another letter this morning.” He held out the envelope to him. It was the same handwriting as all the others, with same address and familiar scent of garlic. “I haven’t opened it yet, since no one else at the station is going to care.”
Callum took it with a sigh and went to his desk to fetch his reading glasses and a letter opener. The note was much like the others, but the ink was smudged as though it’d been written and sealed in too much of a hurry to let it dry. He hadn't even signed it.
To whom it may concern,
The situation in Umbra Harbor is now more dire than ever. I am no longer humbly requesting that aid be sent to the town—I am demanding it.
The livelihood of our citizens is at stake, and the Crown cannot sit idly while Its people are perishing, begging to be saved. I will not await a response.
Send the aid I have been requesting for the last eight months. Any more deaths in Umbra Harbor are on your hands. God will not open the Gates of Heaven for you if we all perish at the hands of the Devil plaguing us before you choose to act.
“Is this guy serious?” Callum asked as he tossed his glasses and the letter onto his desk with the others. “These are the ravings of a madman… each one more wild than the next. He speaks of the Devil, darkness, bloodsucking creatures of the night… He needs a priest and an asylum, not a detective!”
“Well…” Quinn rubbed the beck of his neck, and Callum sighed. He knew he was about to make him feel guilty. They’d known each other for years, and Quinn was an easy read. “Even if the guy is completely mad, it wouldn’t hurt to just go and ease his worries, would it? Give him some peace of mind, yeah?”
“Why do you do that?” Callum sat in his chair and crossed his arms. “I’m supposed to feel for this lunatic, claiming that we’re all going to Hell if we don’t stop the Devil from tormenting the town?”
“I don’t know the right answer,” Quinn said, “but if something really is happening in Umbra Harbor, someone should help, right?”
Callum let out a long, frustrated breath, eyeing the pile of letters on his desk. He wanted to help, but realistically, what could he do? Was it worth his time? What if it was just the ravings of a madman? Should he travel all the way out to the coast to find out?
On the other hand, what if something truly was tormenting the people of Umbra Harbor? The outer counties had no real law enforcement, only the nobility who were meant to protect them, and the letters had noted that the Count wasn’t doing his duty. That meant the responsibility fell on the Crown, but the police in the Capital City weren’t helping either… that was why Quinn had come to him for help instead.
“Alright, fine,” he sighed. “If you can help make arrangements for travel and board, I’ll go. But I’m not fucking miracle worker, Quinn, okay? Don’t expect me to be able to do anything if it is something supernatural.”
“Come on, Cal,” Quinn said with a laugh. “I know you don’t believe in any of that stuff. What’s the worst that could happen?”
To whom it may concern,
I have seen the shadows of evil on my late walks home through the town, and heard the flutter of its wings in the darkness. The evil is stalking us in the witching hours, and yet, we still have received no word from the Crown. I carry garlic and holy artifacts on my person at all times, and thus have never fallen victim to the Bloodsucker, but I feel it out there, watching me.
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The third citizen of Umbra Harbor was buried today. Young Mr. Seward was found in his room, naked and drained of his blood, with the telltale puncture wounds on his neck. He is survived by his parents, Eliza and John.
This one was different. He had the wounds on his neck, but there were also claw marks on his body, and his throat was crushed.
It seems the Devil is now seducing our young men, and stealing their lives away. It is getting bolder and more violent, attacking citizens both in their rooms in the night and chasing them down on the open road. We are helpless.
Soon, Umbra Harbor will be a ghost town, and the Crown will have no port on this side of the coast.
Help us. God had abandoned this town. Save us from the Devil.
Van Helsing, MD
Quinn took a deep breath, standing outside of Callum’s office. It was late, and the building was dark. Everyone else had gone home. He knocked hard on the door a few times.
“Open the door, Cal,” he demanded. He could hear movement inside the office, but there was no answer. “I fuckin’ know you’re in there, Harker! Stop avoiding me! It’s been two weeks since I gave you that file.”
There was shuffling inside the office, louder this time, and Quinn heard the click of the lock.
When Callum opened the door, smoke poured into the hallway. Quinn coughed and waved his hand to keep it out of his face.
“Callum Jonathan Harker, what the hell are you doing in there?”
Callum looked like shit. His usually neat blond hair was an unruly mess, he had dark circles under his eyes, and he clearly hadn’t shaved all week.
“Don’t use my full name like that,” he said with a scowl before turning away from the open door.
Quinn followed him and nearly threw up from the stale stench of garlic and cigarette smoke. He rushed to the window behind the desk and threw it open, waving his hands frantically to get the smoke out and allow the cool autumn air in.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?”
“I’ve gone over these letters a thousand times,” Callum said, dropping into his chair with a defeated sigh. There were notes scattered across the desk, mixed in with the letters from Umbra Harbor. “Not a single damn thing connects any of the victims except these stupid letters that reek of fucking garlic.”
“Why are you driving yourself crazy looking for a connection here?” Quinn asked. He stayed by the window so he could breathe easier. “Do you really need one?”
“Come on, Quinn!” Callum rolled his eyes. He leaned back in his chair and tapped his pen on the board on the wall beside his desk. It was pinned up with newspaper clippings and articles about serial killers that had each terrorized the Capital City at one point or another. “There’s always a connection. The Ravenswood Reaper went after single women under the age of thirty, the Bristol Basher went after men walking along the river after midnight, the Glasgow Grinner cut the mouths of sex workers… something must connect the victims of Umbra Harbor. I just can’t figure out what it is.”
“So, go to Umbra Harbor and find out, Cal. What good is it doing you, holed up in here, reading about the citizens instead of talking to them? I’m sure a real person could tell you a hell of a lot more than a letter ever could.”
“I don’t want to waste my time, Quinn! If I investigate from here, at least I’m not wasting my money on travel and accommodations. It doesn’t cost me any extra money to sit here and figure out what’s going on.”
“But you haven’t figured it out,” Quinn said, rolling his eyes, “and the time will pass whether you’re here or you’re there. You’ve been cooped up in here for two weeks, and you’re no closer to an answer now than the day I handed you those letters. Besides, you obviously need a holiday. Even if that doctor is a complete lunatic, you’d benefit from a few days by the shore.”
“Is that the only reason you’re here?”
“Yup.” Quinn tossed a packet of papers onto Callum’s desk. “The arrangements are made. All you need is to go to the station. I’ve sent word ahead with payment to the local inn for you to stay as long as you need. If the money runs out, they’re to contact me and I’ll send them more.”
“Quinn…” Callum sighed, looking a bit sheepish. “You didn’t have to do that. I have enough money to—”
“Consider it payment for taking on this job. The others won’t take it seriously, but this town obviously needs some kind of help. The least we can do it find out exactly what kind of help it truly needs.”
To whom it may concern,
Young Abraham came to me very late this evening, looking disturbed and pale. He claimed to have not been sleeping well, like so many of the others, and that his dreams have been plagued by a handsome man entering his room in the night.
He worries of the impurity of these visions, and claimed that the man in his dreams wants his blood and body equally. I have advised him to hang garlic above his bedroom window and door to stop the nightmares.
There were no wounds on Abraham, but he claims that the nightmare felt real, and he ran out of his home before the Bloodsucker could penetrate his skin. He is one of the lucky ones so far.
I first believed the attacked to have been focused on the young women of the harbor, but Oliver and Abraham are not, and never have been, women. It seems that this man, demon, creature, whatever he or it may be, is attacking all citizens without condition. Blood seems to be what it truly wants, so I have advised the citizens to consume garlic as often as they can tolerate it.
We need the Crown to help us. The nobility of this county has been idle far too long. We cannot rely on the Count to protect us anymore. Please send aid from the Capital City to protect the people of Umbra Harbor.
Van Helsing, MD