59. Mad Man’s Message

On the outskirts of the fishing village, a dilapidated wooden-fenced courtyard stood as a backdrop to a scene of rising tension.

A man, clad in a gray short coat and with bare arms, sneered. Like a hawk descending upon a helpless chick, he spread his arms, blocking the path of a petite woman in a floral blue dress.

"A widow bearing a child. How disgraceful for poor Drake," he taunted.

"To hell with you!" she spat, clutching her toddler close. "Who's your 'Brother Drake'? You and your village chief father are nothing but beasts! Get your filthy hands off me!" Her voice trembled with rage—the defiance of a cornered lioness.

His grin widened at her outburst. "So others can have you, but I can't even touch you? Well, let me tell you, I wouldn't touch you even if you were naked, you filthy thing! Now hand over the child!"

With a predatory gleam in his eyes, Finn MacLean lunged for the child.

The young widow's face twisted with rage, and without hesitation, she sank her teeth into his arm.

Meanwhile, outside the wood fences, a young man with a mud-streaked face sat on the ground. His clothes were tattered and patched, and he wore only one sandal. His nails were caked with dirt, and even his calves were coated in a repulsive layer of grime.

"Hehe... fight..." he mumbled, watching the struggle with a vacant stare. He slapped at the mud, his laughter echoing through the air, a clear sign of his mental instability.

"Hiss!" Finn MacLean recoiled, his face contorting in pain. He examined the deep bite marks on his wrist, oozing scarlet blood.

Fury replaced his amusement. He slapped the widow hard across the face, sending her stumbling backward. She landed on her backside, her eyes wide with shock.

"Good! Fight!" The disheveled young man clapped his hands in glee.

"Shut up, you idiot." Finn snarled at him before turning back to the widow. He snatched the crying child from her arms and sneered, "You worthless trash! Maybe one day this bastard son of yours will ride the waves back here, rich and powerful, and take you away from this miserable life!"

"Your whole family should be taken away..." the widow muttered, her voice thick with despair.

Finn's eye twitched. He raised his foot to kick her, but a hand clamped down on his arm.

He whirled around, surprise flashing across his face. "Dad?"

The village chief's expression was grim. Without a word, he backhanded Finn, snatched the child, and placed it back in the widow's arms. "Come home with me," he ordered his son.

Finn, shame and anger warring on his face, opened his mouth to protest. But then he saw something that made his entire body tremble. He bolted, disappearing without a trace. "Shit! Those damn H.A.R.M. bastards!"

A tall figure emerged from the distant corner, hand resting on the hilt of a saber at his waist. A subtle glint of menace flickered in his clear eyes, belying his handsome features.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

… …

Despite the sound's proximity, I had to weave through a maze of net lofts, boathouses, and cottages to reach its source: a courtyard at the village's far corner, enclosed by a rustic, waist-high wooden fence.

From a distance, I saw the backs of two figures. One held a crutch but walked hurriedly, not at all appearing to need it.

A man with mud all over him sitting in front of the fence, looked at me with a vacant grin. I walked past him, closing my eyes to focus on the sound within. Then, I stepped inside.

A young woman emerged, cradling her son and smoothing her hair. A bruise marred her face, and her lips were cracked as she spoke. "So that's why the old dog suddenly backed down. An agent is here. Please, come in." She moved as if to casually block my way to leave.

I studied her, my voice cold. "Doesn't it hurt?"

If she was hurt, if she was angry, why had she blocked me from further investigation? Was the sea god truly more important than her own child?

Her surprise was evident. Clearly, she hadn't expected that question. She lowered her gaze, then forced a smile. "You must be new to H.A.R.M., aren't you?"

"What makes you say that?" I asked, my eyes narrowing.

"Come, sit down." She carried her son into the cottage, dragging a wooden stool with one hand. "Everyone in Cascadia knows H.A.R.M. slays vampires and protects the people. They're the best of the best."

After a moment's hesitation, I accepted the woman's invitation and sat down.

She looked up, her eyes holding a flicker of bitterness. "But in this village, it's them, the majority, who are the common people." A self-deprecating smile touched her lips. "My dead husband and I... we were the outcasts."

The mention of her "dead husband" caught my attention. I glanced at the child in her arms.

Noticing my glance, the woman asked, “Could you look after him for a minute?” Without waiting for my reply, she set down the toddler in my arms. She then went to the well to dampen a rag, and walked outside the yard. Angrily kicking the madman, she noticed the crimson wounds, caked with mud, on his arms and legs. Crouching down, she began to clean them.

As she wiped, she scolded him. "You bastard, you disappear for days whenever I need you. Why don't you just starve to death out there? What good are you, being so stupid?"

"Go wash your hands and get ready to eat," she finished, her tone softening.

Intrigued, I watched them.

The widow explained matter-of-factly, "He used to be a commoner too. When he was fifteen or sixteen, he married. But it was his family's turn to offer a child to the sea god, so they forced his wife to give birth. She was too young, and the child died. She barely survived."

"The village chief took her away. She was small for her age, so they just offered her to the sea god as a child sacrifice. He went mad after that."

She gave the man another contemptuous kick.

Her voice took on a somber tone. "No one wants to send their child into the sea, but you can't let others bear the burden. It's been passed down for generations. It's not so much a sacrifice to the god as it is a chance for revenge against those who drowned their own children."

"Like my husband," she continued, her voice heavy with sorrow. "He simply didn't want children. The waves took him, and we never even found his body. That's what they call 'evil being punished.'"

"Why doesn't H.A.R.M. intervene?" I pressed, seeking answers.

"They're just poor people, but they do terrible things," she replied, a hint of bitterness in her voice. "Four hundred years of resentment. Even without the sea god, they would still cling to their 'great sacrifice.'"

"Great sacrifice! Kill, kill, kill!" The madman cackled, eyes bloodshot and wild. "Kill me! Kill me first!"

He scrambled across the ground, reaching for my sword.

I didn't move, watching as his filthy hands grasped the Black Silver, staining its pristine sheath.

I reached out, threading my fingers through his tangled hair, then gently held his head.

The widow, about to fetch the fish soup, froze. Fear flickered in her eyes. "Sir, he's... he's lost his mind... He's not a commoner, not a villain... Just spare him, let him be a mad dog..."

"Kill!" the madman roared, eyes bulging, saliva dribbling down his chin.

I gazed into his face, my grip softening into a gentle caress.

His trembling subsided.

Then, my calm voice cut through his frenzy, jolting him like a lightning strike.

"Thank you for warning me." Then a chilling smile curved my lips. My eyes remained clear, my voice steady, but my words dripped with deadly intent. "I won't let you down."

The madman vanishes for days on end.

The blood-soaked badge mysteriously appears in Vancouver. All along, he just wanted it delivered to Seattle.

There are vampires here. Powerful ones.

Right in this village.