There's a first time for everything. Falling in love, marriage, heartbreak... Murder, even.

Fortunately, people get used to most things. Life goes on for those who do. And for those who don't... Well, let's just say there's a reason why bad things happen in the world despite humanity's best efforts. But like they also say, there are some things you never get used to.

And for her, it was the stench of death.

Paranormal Investigator Anya Mikhailovna Sechina walked up the battered path leading up to a gaudy porch, her nose wrinkling from the foulness in the air. For better or for worse, the man beside her was either too oblivious or too unbothered to let it stop him from yammering in her ear.

"...So what do you think about that?" Jonathan Warner chattered away excitedly. "The memories of our past lives are stored in our souls. I can't believe the key to reincarnation is just a handful of soil and a spell away!"

"Save it for later, Jon. We're here," Anya hissed as the brownish-white door loomed ahead of them.

Her hands fiddled nervously around the cold metal of her car keys. She shuddered internally at the unpleasant familiarity of this whole situation. The last time they visited a house this secluded, a murderous vampire almost killed her. There was no doubt that her immortal friend beside her would protect her like last time, but the face of death was a little too grotesque to stare down one too many times.

A sharp rapping of knuckles on wood shook her back to her senses. The door opened almost immediately.

"What do you want?" a lanky man greeted them rudely. His clothes stank of cigarettes, and there was an unusual darkness hanging around the corner of his eyes.

Anya reached into her coat-

"Metropolitan Police." Jonathan flashed a name card and kept it before anyone could take a second look. "We've received a disturbance complaint, as well as reports of suspicious activity in your house. We have a warrant to search it. May we come in?"

"Disturbance complaint?" The man's eyes narrowed in remarkable anger, before letting them in grudgingly. "Fine. Come in."

Nervousness pooled in Anya's stomach. This was the only house in miles. Jonathan was being way too upfront with that obvious lie. If they could not find the evidence that they needed, today would be their last day working in the Paranormal Bureau.

Anya flashed a small smile at a woman in the corner that did nothing to calm her down. She observed her actions surreptitiously; the curly-haired woman was visibly trembling in fear for some reason.

Ceramic rattled lightly as she picked up a teapot and began pouring into a cup.

"There's no need for that, Madam Wright." Jonathan grabbed her hand gently for a little too long, as though inspecting her wrist. "We won't take long."

"Hey, you coppers better not take all day." The man folded his arms, eyeing the two strangers carefully. "If this turns out to be a waste of my time, I'm lodging a formal complaint to your department."

His voice dropped sinisterly, his gaze flitting to his wife. "And I'll be dealing with those nosy neighbours of mine."

The duo headed up the stairs.

"Please tell me you've got something," Jonathan whispered to Anya, who was already wearing her disillusionment goggles. "My third eye isn't seeing anything out of place. Any traces of vampiric magic?"

Anya tapped the goggles twice, discreetly snapping pictures of the murky dark essence that littered the corners of the house. She heaved an internal sigh of relief; at least the call to the Supernatural Hotline was not a bogus one this time.

"I've got plenty," she said, following an increasingly more obvious trace of magic remnants to the bathroom. "Bingo."

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The investigator picked up a black ring from the edge of the basin, examining it intently. It was unnaturally dark, as though any light that fell upon its surface was simply absorbed into its blackened crimson shade.

"Ring of the beast..." Jonathan breathed. "Protects vampires from the sun for an hour. Case closed, I suppose. There really is a vampire living in this house. Shall I call for backup now?"

Anya stared at the ring for a while, before shaking her head slowly.

"Something's wrong. It's all too easy, almost as if the traces of magic purposely led us here." She looked at Jonathan. "There's also this... odd corpse stench lingering in the air."

"Yeah, I've noticed it too. It's been hanging around ever since we walked into the vicinity of this house." Jonathan took a deep whiff, before coughing violently. "Goddammit, that man is smoking again."

Anya's gaze fell upon the jars of cigarette butts that decorated the house, before taking off her goggles. She closed her eyes to collect her thoughts.

A brief moment passed.

"Jonathan, let's head back down," she said, opening her eyes again.

The true purpose behind the call was obvious now.

~ ~ ~

"So, did you find anything? Or am I going to waste my afternoon writing to your department?"

Anya smiled politely at the man as she shook her head. "We did not find anything. Apologies for wasting your time, sir."

"What? No! Please, you must've missed something!" the woman screamed without warning, falling to her knees before the investigators. "Please check the place again carefully! I beg of you!"

Anya pursed her lips. That was all the confirmation she needed.

Jonathan helped her to her feet. "Calm down, Ma'am. We simply need to have a few words with your husband here. My partner here will speak to him privately. Not to worry, I won't let any harm come to you."

The man stomped up towards him. "What are you two playing at now-"

Anya blocked his path. "Please cooperate, sir. I simply need to know a little more about your family."

"This better not take long," the man said, following her to the upper levels of the house. "I have things to do."

The investigator took out a flimsy notebook and flipped to an empty page. The other pages were wrinkled, filled with diagrams and scribbles. Although she had only worked in the Paranormal Bureau for about five years now, the amount of supernatural disputes was not lacking in any sense of the word.

"How long have you known your wife?" Anya asked without taking her eyes off the man.

"About sixty- I mean, thirty years ago."

"Both of you really have maintained your looks, haven't you? You don't look a day above forty." Anya flashed a fake smile as she closed her notebook. No point recording blatant lies now.

"How long have you lived in this house?"

"I don't remember- Is there a point to any of this?" The man's expression darkened further. "Stalling for time won't stop me from lodging a complaint, y'know."

"Just... being friendly, that's all. Alright, one last question and we can wrap things up." Anya kept her notebook and straightened her body.

"How much longer do you intend to hide the fact that your wife is a vampire?"

The husband jumped to his feet in shock. "W-what? Just who are you?"

"Investigator Anya Mikhailovna Sechina, authority of the London Paranormal Bureau." Anya snapped her fingers, and a glowing badge materialised beside her. "Mister Alfred Baker, we have received a call regarding domestic abuse of your supernatural spouse. You are under arrest for unlawful confinement and illegally syphoning vampiric essence."

The man hissed as skin began melting off his face. Black soot coated his cracked lips while hair fell off his ashen white skull. His eyeballs shrunk into their sockets, leaving two red irises barely visible from the darkness within.

Anya drew her gun, keeping it trained on the man who had grown another fifty centimetres in a mere few seconds.

"Since vampires can heal quickly, any physical evidence of your domestic abuse would be covered up." She stood her ground, unflinching. "But the smell of cigarettes isn't enough to mask the stench of your bitter magic, lich. I have already gathered enough evidence of the traces of your magic rituals."

"You dare challenge my necromancy?" the lich roared.

"You have the right to remain silent-"

Anya ducked as a black wave of magic swooped over her head. It struck the wall instead, dissolving a huge chunk of bricks. The lich lunged towards her this time. She raised her weapon, firing a couple of glowing bullets at him.

The living corpse dropped immediately, his corrupted magic rapidly escaping his body like a deflating balloon.

Anya slowly lowered her gun as footsteps stomped up the stairs. A small group of men armoured up in dull-coloured anti-magic suits greeted her with the shrill whistling of hoovers, sucking away all the stray magic in the air. A few more people came in and hauled the lich away.

"Anya!" Jonathan called out, pushing his way through the paranormal cleanup crew. "Goodness, are you alright?"

"I- uh... Yes, it was no trouble. Good call getting the cleanup crew just in time." The woman blushed slightly. "Thanks for asking, Jon. Are you-"

"I'm fine," Jonathan stated flatly and walked off. Anya's face fell, and she turned to the men in suits before her disdain became too obvious.

"That's good, thank you very much." She gestured at the ceiling. "Do me a favour and splay-freeze the corners over there as well, will you? The bitterness in the air is killing me."

The men nodded and moved further into the house.