Callum was grateful to finally get off the train. Not that his accommodations weren’t comfortable—he’d been in a private sleeper car, and the food and drink had been fine. He didn’t like the lack of privacy outside of the car, though, or having to share a washroom with so many other people.

The train station was old and dilapidated, and rainwater trickled from multiple places in the ceiling. The wind whistled eerily through thin cracks in all the old broken wood and windows, and the old floor creaked ominously under his feet. He prayed it would hold his weight long enough for him to get outside.

No one was even there. The only indication that he was in the correct place was the large, rotting wooden sign outside.

WELCOME TO

UMBRA HARBOR

Callum tried squinting to see through the mist, but there was nothing that even closely resembled a building, just trees. It didn’t even seem that he was near the ocean. Where was the harbor? Where was the town? All he could see in every direction was dense fog and forest.

“I’m already regretting this,” he muttered to himself. He shifted his bag onto his shoulder, picked up his suitcase, and headed off down the only road, away from the old train station.

Once the station was out of sight, it was eerily quiet, the only sound coming from the gravel crunching under Callum’s boots. There were no birds, no more wind, no crashing waves of the ocean. Where the hell was he?

He felt like he’d walked for hours, his bags feeling heavier on heavier, before he finally started to hear and smell the ocean. The forest opened up to farmland, and he could see the faint shapes of houses through the fog.

The gravel path became cobblestone, and Callum put his luggage down for a moment to rub his aching shoulder. He would have hired a carriage if he’d known just how far the station was from the actual town.

The few houses he passed were all old and shabby, with boarded up windows. If he didn’t know any better, he might think them abandoned, but there were animals in the fields and vegetables in the gardens. It was strange, to say the least, and Callum had the unnerving sensation that he was being watched.

There wasn’t much he could do about it, though. If the townsfolk were under attack, they were likely wary of new strangers entering the town.

The local tavern was one of the first buildings beyond the farms, sitting at the edge of town. It was one of the only ones not pressed side-by-side to the rest of the buildings lining the streets. There were a couple of people outside, which he acknowledged with a nod, but they just stared at him warily in silence.

The inside of the tavern was warm and cozy, and smelled wonderful. Callum’s stomach growled as the scent of meat and vegetables reached his nose. He ignore the strange looks from other occupants and headed straight to the counter, dropping his luggage on the floor around him as he took a seat.

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“Haven’t seen you here before,” the barkeep noted, placing an empty tankard in front of him. “You look like you need one of these.”

“Thanks,” Callum said as he watched the man fill it to the rim with ale. He placed a few coins on the counter. “A hot meal would be great too… whatever you’ve got.”

“Sure thing. We get our ingredients from the farms just outside of town. Today we got some rabbit stew. It’s got garlic, carrots, and mushrooms, and I got some bread my wife made fresh this morning.”

“Sounds great.”

“What brings you to Umbra Harbor?” the man asked. He took a wooden bowl out from under the counter and brought it to the hearth, where there was a large pot simmering over the fire. He put a few hearty scoops into it and topped it off with a thick slice of bread. “We don’t get many visitors, especially around this time of year.”

“My friend made arrangements a couple of weeks ago for me to room here,” Callum explained. “He said he sent you payment as well. The name is Harker.”

“Ah, you’re that fella the doctor sent for, huh?” He placed the bowl in front of Callum with some utensils. “The room is all set up. I’ll help you get settled after you eat. I’m sure you’ll want some rest before you meet up with Doctor Helsing. He’s a bit much sometimes.”

“Well, he did sent about twenty letter to the Capital City, asking the Crown for help.” Callum took a large spoonful of the stew. It wasn’t the best thing he’d ever eaten, but it wasn’t the worst. At least it was a hot meal. “What can you tell me about what’s been happening around here?”

“Not much.” The man sighed, his shoulders dropping in defeat. “Helsing is the one dealing with it. A few people have died, but I don’t really know what happened. He said I should cook with more garlic to help with this illness going around. I don’t know what he’s talking about half the time, but I trust him.”

“He sure loves garlic, doesn’t he?”

“I dunno what that’s all about. Claims it’ll protect everyone from the Devil or something. He told me to hang it in the windows and stuff, but I’m not trying to stink up the place.”

“I’m not sure something as simple as a rope of garlic is the solution to this town’s problems either,” Callum said with a shrug. He finished his meal quickly—he was ready to bathe and sleep in a real bed for the first time in days.

“It’s not much, but we are a small town,” the barkeep said, placing Callum’s bags down just inside the door to the room. “Hopefully you’ll be comfortable enough while you’re here. You’ve got your own washroom too. Since you’ll be here a while, I'll throw in breakfast and dinner whenever you like.”

“That’s too kind,” Callum said, looking a bit bashful. He wasn’t really hurting that badly for money, but he appreciated saving where he could. “Thanks very much.”

“Name’s John Seward.” The man shook Callum’s hand. “Let me know if you need anything else. If I’m not around, my wife Eliza is usually running things, and Lucy works for us. She takes care of most of the housekeeping.”

As soon as John left, Callum threw his jacket carelessly over a chair and dropped face-first onto the bed.

He recalled one of Van Helsing’s letters. John and Eliza were the parents of one of the young men who had been killed in his bedroom. Why hadn’t John said anything?

John had also said he wasn’t following Van’s requests about hanging garlic to protect the townspeople—he was only cooking with it. Although Callum agreed that garlic wasn’t the answer, he found it strange that John, especially after losing his son in the midst of the happenings in Umbra Harbor, wouldn’t do what he could to protect others. Did he have something to do with the attacks in town?

“Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten that stew,” he muttered to himself, pressing his hand to his stomach. He hadn’t even been in town an entire day, and he already had a suspect. He turned onto his back with a groan and took a small pad and pencil from his pocket.

“John Seward,” he uttered as he wrote. “Doesn’t mention son who died… doesn’t follow the doctor’s recommendations… Suspect?”

He got up and went out on the balcony to smoke, leaning on the railing while he stared down at the street below. It was quiet, with no one walking around outside anymore, unlike the Capital City, which was bustling at all hours of the day and night. The silence wasn’t peaceful though—it was unnerving. He didn’t know what might be out there, lurking… waiting to snatch another unsuspecting victim.

“Quinn,” Callum said with a heavy sigh. “What have you gotten me into?”