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Shadow Falls
The Scratch in the Dust

The Scratch in the Dust

I walked out of the bar, the night air cool against my face. The streetlights cast long shadows, stretching out like grasping fingers. I headed towards the "Main Street Mini Storage," the place where the latest victim had been found. The coroner had already taken the body, and Charlaine had told me any magic trail would run cold after two to three hours anyway. But Charlaine was missing, and I had no better idea where to search next.

The storage facility was a squat, concrete building, tucked away on the edge of town. The metal doors were all locked, but I knew the manager. He was a straight up guy, a little slow, but he wouldn't mind letting me in. I walked up to the office, the door creaking open as I pushed it.

The manager, a skinny man with a receding hairline, looked up from his paperwork. He gave me a tired smile. "What can I do for you?"

"Just gotta take a look around," I said. "Something came up."

He nodded, his eyes wary. "Sure thing, Sheriff. Anything you need."

He unlocked the door to the storage area, and I stepped inside. The air was thick with the smell of dust and mildew. Rows of units lined the walls, each one a potential hiding place. I walked down the aisle, my boots echoing on the concrete floor. I stopped at the unit where the body had been found. The door was open, the lock broken, the interior empty. I checked the outside, but there was nothing there. No trace of Charlaine, no trace of Krabat, no trace of anything.

I sighed. This was going to be another dead end. I was running out of time. Something was about to go down, something nasty. And I was the only one who could stop it.

Walking past the yellow police tape, I ignored the flimsy barrier I'd put up myself earlier that day. Everything still looked the way I'd left it. The air hung heavy with the scent of mildew and something else, something metallic and sharp. I remembered Frankie, the boy who'd been working here. A skinny teenager with a nervous laugh and a habit of chewing his fingernails. He'd been a good kid, as far as I could tell.

I'd never found out how or why the twins chose their victims. Maybe it was random. Maybe it was something I hadn't figured out yet. I ran a hand over the doorframe, the cold metal biting into my clay skin. I closed my eyes, trying to picture the last time I was standing here. The victim, the killer, the fight. But all I saw was darkness. I needed to find Charlaine. I needed to find Krabat. I needed to find answers. And I needed to find them fast.

Frustration started getting the better of me. Nothing but dust and the lingering scent of fear so far. I crouched down, examining the dusty floor. A faint, almost imperceptible scratch in the floor, hidden beneath a smear of dried blood. It was barely there, but I could see it. A single, thin line. Tracing it with my finger, I felt the rough texture of the concrete beneath my clay skin. It was a symbol, I knew it. A mark left by the killer. Couldn't figure out what it meant.

My hands hovered over the scratch. It was faint, almost invisible, but I could feel it. A subtle energy pulsed beneath my fingertips. I ran my hand over the ground, brushing away the dust. The lines deepened, revealing a faint inscription etched into the floor. It was a series of symbols, unfamiliar to me, but they hummed with a strange power.

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I took out my phone and snapped a picture. The markings were barely visible in the photo, but I knew it was real. I needed to show this to someone who could make sense of it. No signal. Of course not. This place was a dead zone. I cursed under my breath.

I knelt down again, then traced the inscription with my finger. A jolt shot through me, the floor glowing with an eerie azure light. The air crackled, and a shimmering circle materialized on the floor where the lines were etched. Stumbling back, my heart pounded in my chest. This wasn't just some random graffiti. This was something else. Something powerful.

The circle pulsed, the blue light growing brighter. There was a pull, a magnetic force drawing me towards it. I knew I shouldn't go in. It was dangerous. But I couldn't help it. I was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

I took a step forward, then another. The circle pulsed faster, the light growing more intense. I felt a surge of energy coursing through my body, a tingling sensation that spread from my fingertips to my toes. Closing my eyes, I braced myself for whatever was about to happen.

When I opened my eyes, I was no longer in the storage unit. I was in a different place. A place I'd never seen before. It was a vast, empty space, the walls shimmering with an ethereal light. The air was thick with a strange spirit, a feeling of power and mystery.

I looked around, trying to make sense of my surroundings. There was nothing here, just the endless expanse of the void.

Then, I felt someone watching me. Turning slowly, my hand instinctively reaching for my gun. But there was nothing there. Just the empty space, the shimmering walls, and the eerie silence.

I was alone. Or was I?

A deep growl echoed from afar, sending shivers down my spine. It slowly approached, getting closer and closer. I could feel the air growing colder, the darkness pressing in on me. The growl turned into a snarl, and a pair of glowing red eyes appeared, followed by a giant hound weaving in and out of the shadows. The beast was big as an ox, and it did not seem pleased to see me. I clenched my fists, bracing myself for whatever was about to happen.

Then, a voice, raspy and cold, whispered in my ear. "Welcome to the spirit world, Sheriff Slate. I've been expecting you."

Standing before me, bathed in the eerie blue light of the circle, was a hooded figure I'd never seen before. Tall and lean, possibly human, though it was hard to tell. The creature wore a long black tattered coat, the collar pulled up around its neck. A straw hat cast a shadow over its face, hiding it in darkness.

"Who are you?" I growled, my voice tight.

The figure chuckled, a dry, rasping sound. "Names have power for me and my kin. You may call me... Eshu."

It stepped forward, eyes glinting in the blue light. The shadows around him seemed to writhe and twist, as if they were alive. The giant dog was still there but kept its distance.

"You're the one behind this, aren't you?" My voice hardened. "The disappearances, the strange happenings..."

Eshu tilted his head. "Perhaps. Perhaps not." He took another step closer, his eyes boring into mine. "I'm here to offer you a deal, Sheriff Slate."

"What kind of deal?"

"A deal that will benefit us both. I need your help in the world of the living, Sheriff. And in return, I can give you something you've been searching for."

My gut twisted. Graveyards are full of people who make deals with shadowy entities in magical dimensions. But did I really have a choice if I wanted Charlaine back?

"What do you want?"

"I want you to find someone for me, Sheriff. Someone who's dear to a follower of mine. Also, I want you to stop calling me Daddy Longlegs."