Morevia had not chosen to leave the city, nor did she put up any protection spells of any kind. So either this was one big trap, or she was confident enough in her powers to battle Jonathan on her own. Jonathan couldn’t decide which was scarier.

His eyes flitted to the yawning darkness in the house as he walked up the steps silently, trying to shake off the feeling of deja vu. If he had a quid for every time he faced off with a vampire in a dark house, he’d have two. It wasn’t a lot, but it was still a bit odd that it happened twice.

The door creaked open as Jonathan stepped into the house boldly. A seated human silhouette was outlined in front of him by the moonlight streaming in. Jonathan relaxed his body, approaching it cautiously.

“I should’ve known you’d eventually catch up to me, inspector.”

Light bloomed in the room without warning as the silhouette disappeared. Jonathan whipped his head to the source of the voice behind him.

Morevia Wright was dressed in a bright red cloak, slumping her body against the wall as though she was a tragic femme fatale in a noir movie. She sighed wistfully as her despaired gaze met his.

“Then why didn’t you run?” Jonathan asked suspiciously.

“I’ve been running my whole life, good sir.” The vampire had gotten up to her feet in a literal blink of an eye. “No more, my love. If it’s my fate to be caught, I’m glad it’s you who catches me for the last time.”

Jonathan grabbed her hand, pulling it away from his chest. Morevia twirled around theatrically instead and fell into his arms.

“I am not your lover, lady.” Jonathan pushed her away. “The man you have been pining for is long dead. So many lives have been lost because of your obsession. This ends tonight. I’m sorry for what has happened to you, but you won’t hurt anyone else.”

“You saved me from the horrid man.” Pearly tears rolled down the vampire’s face. “You still love me, don’t you? Deep down, I know you’re still in there. Deep down, you’re still my husband. Look within you, please…”

The inspector drew his gun, pointing it straight at Morevia’s face. Not like it was necessary given his powers, but he was hoping that it would at least make her back down.

“Is that little display meant to insinuate that you’re going to shoot me, Warner?” Morevia chuckled softly, tucking a stray fringe behind her ear.

“If I must. This gun is loaded with silver bullets. This is your last chance to back down.”

“Come now, don’t lie to yourself. You don’t have it in you to kill me. It’s too obvious.”

“Oh yeah? Try me.” Jonathan snarled, cocking his gun-

It burst from his fingertips, flying out of the window. Jonathan flinched as he stretched his hands for it, but cold fingers clasped around his jaw. His eyes widened in shock as Morevia put her hand behind his head and crashed her lips into his.

Sparks flew from his body, and the vampire flew backwards. She yelped in pain as her back smashed into the edge of a wall before she crashed into a table on her way back to the ground. Jonathan’s conscience stung him as he watched the whimpering lady gripping her waist in pain.

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“That was very mean of you to attack me like that, but I’ll forgive you.” Morevia’s voice dripped with poisonous honey as she stood up gingerly. “You’ve been under a lot of stress lately, so you lashed out. It’s alright. We’ve been through worse, haven’t we?”

Lightning danced around Jonathan’s eyes as he aimed his hand at her. Nervousness pooled in his stomach. The Ghost Of Glasgow was skilled enough to kill even those who should be immortal. He was confident enough in his invulnerability, but if he screwed up again and let her escape…

“Get over yourself, woman,” he spat. “You’re bloody delusional.”

The taunt worked like a charm. Morevia lunged at him in response, flinging him against the wall. The house literally shook with the impact. Jonathan got up to his feet as he casually brushed off the crushed rubble from his clothes, expecting her to follow up with another pointless attack.

But she didn’t.

“You want me, my love? Come and get me.” She giggled cheekily. “It’s been seven hundred years since you last chased me, after all.”

Jonathan swore under his breath as Morevia sank into the shadows. He flipped on all the light switches in the house, looking frantically for any trace of slithering shadows. Where the hell did she go-

In the bedroom, silly. I’m getting myself prettied up for you.

Wood crashed around him as he followed her voice and broke down the bedroom door. He flipped the light switch immediately, only to see Morevia already right in front of him, dressed in a familiar-looking mediaeval dress.

“Do you remember, Nicholaum?” Her breath warmed his ear as the tips of her breasts brushed against him. “Remember who your wife is.”

Jonathan swatted his hand, but the vampire slid backwards as though a rope had yanked her away. She walked up the ceiling and vanished again. The inspector put on Anya’s goggles, chasing after the traces of dark magic. They disappeared into the wall outside the house, near where his gun lay.

“Aha!” A dark figure sent him flying back into the house through the window.

Sodding piece of-

“It was me, inspector! I am the Ghost Of Glasgow! I murdered all the women who dared to come close to you!” Morevia’s voice was going higher by the second as gleeful madness danced in her eyes. “You can’t catch me! You can’t-”

She gasped, staggering backwards as she clutched her bloodied torso.

Jonathan rolled to his feet, revealing the pistol hidden underneath his body. He tucked it back in his back pocket as he walked towards the vampire who was now leaning against her sofa. Jonathan pushed her body upright.

“Y-you got me, Warner.” Morevia’s lips were trembling. “You did it… You closed the case. You killed the Ghost Of Glasgow…”

“Don’t be dramatic, lady.” The inspector took out a bullet from his weapon’s chamber and waved it in her face. “See? These may be silver bullets but they’re non-lethal rounds. Nicked them from a powerful witch, but that’s none of your concern.”

Jonathan pulled the woman to her feet. Thankfully, she did not deign to resist any further, except for a few spasms of pain.

“The Immortal Association still has more questions for you,” he said. “But until we get back, you’re going to be in a lot of discomfort.”

Morevia winced as she chuckled gloomily. “Well played, inspector. Well played…”

Jonathan glanced at the woman once again. An oddly serene expression was etched on her face, as though she had suddenly come to terms with being caught after a seven-hundred-year-long murder spree.

A nagging feeling tugged at his gut, but he pushed it back down. Speculation could come later. There may still be some unanswered questions, but she was at least responsible for one murder. As to her true motive, all the answers he needed were simply an interrogation away.

Jonathan picked the vampire up and burst out of the house.