“Ow, son of a -”

The sudden jolt of the coach car sent Luric's head in collision with the cold, hard window frame, the sharp flash of pain on the left side of his skull making him forget the nightmare he had been having moments earlier. He rubbed his concussed skin through his disheveled, thick locks while a low hiss escaped his lips. Still a little drowsy, he slowly became aware of the violent way the wagon was now wobbling; a sure sign that the train had left the even plains of the Anlalize province and was now chugging down the old, worn out tracks of the north-western highlands.  Home sweet home, he thought sourly while looking at the dreary landscape.    

Luric had been eagerly waiting for a chance to be sent back here for years- the Institute choosing him over his more experienced colleagues due to his familiarity with the region- but his excitement had subsided quite a bit over the course of the long journey. He dimly recalled the dreadful dream filled with angry, accusing faces and then the brutal way he had been awoken from it, his mood darkening further. But then he also remembered why he had dreamed of the angry, accusing faces, who they were angry with and the reason behind their accusations, and he felt his zeal to see this endeavor through successfully return. No, he would not allow anything to spoil this for him.

“Your face is unpleasant.”

Including her.

Sitting on the bench opposite of him, posture stiff and expression stern, was his companion. Her presence on this trip had been compulsory. Or so his boss had insisted when he protested. He had still tried to change his mind until the last moment.                                                                                                

“I know quite a few women who would strongly disagree with you on that.” He shot her his most feral smirk, wondering if he should let a little bit of fang peak between his lips to add to her discomfort.  

“That's not what I meant,” she said rigidly. “Can't you feel it?”

He looked at her confused, but then took notice of how her eyes were wide with alertness, shoulders raised with tension, how her hands that were nestled in her lap had balled into tight fists. She tried to hide it, but her entire body was poised for either fight or flight, and he tried to suss out what had triggered this reaction. There was no immediate danger he could sense and right now it was him she was staring at intently.

That made him pause.

Him?

He turned back to the window, but this time instead of looking through the glass out into their surroundings he focused on the faint, transparent reflection of his face, and he finally understood what she meant.

Whether it had been the nightmare or him hitting his head or both combined, he didn't know, but something had triggered his fight or flight response and for him that meant something else entirely. Forget a little bit of fang- he had brought out both rows of white, razor sharp teeth, his canines gleaming menacingly as his jaw dropped a bit. How had he not felt them when he spoke just now? His eyes had bulged too, pupils unnaturally dilated and irises now a just a thin ridge of bright yellow. Even his ears had turned a little pointy. Unpleasant, indeed.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbled in her direction, and then focused on retracting his monstrous features.

It wasn't hard; not much of the beast had seeped through. There was only a sliver of agitated force vibrating around his skin, a feeling he had become so used to that it was no surprise it could move past his barriers and out into the open without him noticing when his mind was too preoccupied or his heart tooperturbed. Still, it shouldn't have happened. Not to a Graduate. And definitely not in front of someone who was tasked to monitor his conduct and report back to his boss. Shit.

She wasn't looking at him anymore, head turned pointedly towards the window, but eyes too unfocused to claim there was anything of interest to her outside. Luric frowned. If this was all it took to make her so uncomfortable, then she was definitely in the wrong line of work.

He closed his eyes, let a long-practiced calmness wash over him, then reached out towards and around the edges of his essence, and slowly started to push back the prickly energy he found there, radiating outwards. He pushed and pushed until it dwindled and disappeared somewhere within the deepest part of his being, taking the fangs and the yellow eyes and pointy ears with it.

There, all better.

“Nelle?”

She only turned her head a little to look at him, nodded once, and then shifted her gaze back to the window, shoulders still tense. It would seem that calming down didn't come as easily to her. Unfortunately, that would likely reflect on her assessment of him.

He sighed and leaned against the cushioned backrest of his seat, aware again of his aching head. Suddenly, a long-forgotten memory dislodged itself from the crevice of his mind, and the new-foundirony almost made him laugh. Back then, when he had been riding these same tracks out of the high lands, he also had an injured head. That particular bump, though, had been courtesy of a special perpetrator. Recalling his face - recalling all of their faces - made him feel that initial excitement return, though not without a healthy dose of resentment. Beneath his skin, the beast's energy simmered tepidly.

He couldn't wait to get back home.

To call this a train station would have been too generous. The cracked platform that they had stepped onto was shorter than the entire length of their train and barely three meters wide; a tiny, lone cabin for the station master stood at the other end. It was empty. As was the rest of the station. No one else had gotten off here, and it wasn’t hard to imagine why. The image that greeted them was as uninviting as it was sobering. The station was situated at the top of a small, flat hill and it gave them a good view of the bleak-looking town stretching before them. A canopy of rust-colored roofs punctuated here and there by rickety prayhouse towers. Everything was in shades of brown or gray, and it matched the dreariness of the overcast late autumn sky. The few crows swirling overhead - their harsh caws though loud and piercing somehow accentuating the silence - completed the picture of a desolated Podunk town at the arse-end of nowhere. If only this were as bad as it got.

“This doesn’t look so bad,” Nelle breathed.

“I’m sure the people of Pelase would be happy to hear you say that.”

Nelle turned to look at him in confusion. “Pelase? You mean this isn’t -” She reached into the pocket of her overcoat and retrieved a neatly folded paper map. She opened it only enough to look at their location, eyes quickly finding the name written sloppily in bright, red ink next to the printed one that marked Pelase. “It should be the next town over. We got off at the wrong station.”                          

“I’m afraid not. Whoever wrote down Runrick so close to Pelase on your map has obviously never been around here. And trust me, Runrick is nowhere near as pretty as this. No railroad leads to that shithole.”      

She stared at him, wide-eyed, then looked back at the ratty little town, probably trying to imagine something worse and unable to. He didn’t blame her. Under any other circumstance he, too, would’ve rather chained himself to a cliff than accept an assignment that would take him so far from civilization. And he spent the better part of his childhood here. Nelle was born and raised in the capital. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had never even seen a cow before, much less smelled its dung.

He flung his travel pack over his left shoulder and bent down to pick up hers as well. Startled, she quickly grabbed her bag before he could touch it, shot him a curt “I’m fine, thank you!” and scurried ahead without looking back. Working with her will be so much fun. With that solemn thought he followed suit, albeit at a much lazier pace.

He caught up easily enough, the hillside gravel road leading into town proving to be a bigger challenge for Nelle’s pavement-crafted legs. Idly he wondered how another offer to take her luggage would be received, then realized he intended to word it as patronizingly as possible, so the outcome could only be one. Getting under people’s skin was a favorite past time of his, but Nelle was proving to be surprisingly unamusing when irritated. He decided he preferred the silence but loitered behind just in case her flimsy legs failed her. He would want front row view for that.

It took them an hour and an absurd amount of money to find a coachman willing to take them even near Runrick. And by near, he meant a good hour-and-a-half on foot from where he left them. The wooden sign next to the crossroad where they had been dropped off was chipped and the paint no longer readable, but it still pointed dutifully towards the path they had to take. Before them lay a dirt road, just wide enough for one carriage, that  cut through a tiny stretch of grassland before it got swallowed up by the forest.

Luric dared a glance at his companion. The long journey had obviously left its mark on her poise. When he met Nelle just a few days ago in Lord Ashladd’s office, the very first thing he noticed about the woman was her prim and proper appearance. Nothing else about her stood out. She wasn’t anything noteworthy as far as beauty went; a simple bowl cut framing a fairly insipid-looking face with a pair of emotionless, dark, gray eyes staring back at him from underneath blunt bangs. It was obvious that she cared about her appearance though, not because of vanity, since there was nothing cosmetic to be found on her, but because of decorum. There was not one hair out of place, eyebrows were expertly plucked and even, clothes clean, ironed, and befitting an employee of his Majesty’s Institute. Now, her neatly combed blond hair was slightly disheveled, her attire wrinkled and flecked with mud. She looked tired and weary, as well as a little unsure when she gazed into the dark shadows of the forest they now had to enter. Nelle must have sensed his eyes on her, because she suddenly drew herself up, fastened her hold on her luggage, and pressed on.

Thankfully, the road snaked around the hills instead of over them, keeping their hike on even ground, but the muddy, bumpy path proved to be too much for Nelle either way, and she soon fell behind. Luric was trying to slow his step without it seeming deliberate, but even he was starting to lose his patience. He was almost completely caked in mud beneath the knees, and that pissed him off far more than it should. He cared about his looks too, though in his case it was about vanity. He liked looking good and important. Especially now. Especially here.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

It was well past sunset before they even caught a glimpse of lights in the distance. The wind had picked up as the darkness fell, blowing dust and dry leaves in their faces. The clouds had looked heavy with rain for most of their journey from Pelase and it seemed like the downpour was ready to start.

Nelle was now several steps behind him, staggering against the gale. She was walking hunched, face half buried in the collar of her coat and eyes scrunched up to slits, trying to shield them from the biting wind. He almost felt sorry for her. It was obvious that she had tried to prepare for this journey, judging from her thick coat and long boots, but her choice in clothing still spoke loudly of the inexperience of someone born and bred in a southern city. Around here, a woolen coat alone didn’t cut it. Boots didn’t have to be just long, but also warm and impervious. She hadn’t thought to bring a scarf either, probably thinking the roll-neck pullover and collar of her coat would be enough. It would’ve been, for the mellow winters of the capital, but a north-born would’ve known to choose something with a fur cowl. Would’ve known to choose fur instead of any other material.

On the other hand, Luric was north-born, knew what to expect coming here, and still dressed as if going for a stroll through the park on a drizzly day. His long, black cashmere mantle adorned with a loose shoulder cape of the same material provided barely any protection against the harsh weather. But he didn’t need it to. He could withstand the cold on his own; his clothes served another purpose. Until the rain began he wouldn’t even bother to pull up his hood, the wind having messed up his hair enough already. Something else he was slightly annoyed with.

Another strong gust blew over them, the loud howl joining in with the cacophony of rustling leaves. From somewhere behind, them a low branch broke off and fell to the ground with a heavy thud, and with that sudden sound, the last remnant of Nelle’s composure finally snapped. She let out a terrified cry as she whirled around, hastily dropping her luggage in case she needed to run from whatever her imagination was telling her had caused that noise. She tripped and fell backwards on her behind, eyes still frantically searching the darkness. Earlier, he would have found the sight amusing, maybe would’ve made a joke at her expense, but as he was running dry on patience himself, he found it pitiful instead.

He casually sauntered over to her and picked up her bag, confident there would be no objections this time.

“There’s nothing there. I would’ve known if there was,” he said calmly.

She looked up at him over her shoulder, still shaky and scared, but the words seemed to have registered. He turned around and continued, walking past the scattered brief case that she had been carrying alongside her duffle bag. He knew better than to even attempt to reach for that. He knew exactly what its contents were and it was a weight she could still carry herself.

It wasn’t long before he heard Nelle’s hurried steps behind him, struggling to keep up and stay close to him. He didn’t slow down this time.

________________________________________________________________________________

It took a lot longer than the coachman had told them to reach the outskirts of Runrick, but even then they had yet to come to the end of their trek. As far as Luric could remember, the only halfway decent inn around was near the market square, at the center of town.

They made their way through the dark, empty streets, barely any light streaming through the tightly-closed wooden shutters of the candle-lit houses. Every so often a guard dog would start barking at them from behind a fence, but otherwise the town was deathly quiet.

As they approached the center, the houses grew a little bigger and were more densely-packed, most of them made of stone or clay bricks instead of cob. This is where the good folk lived. And would you look at that, some of them even had lanterns hanging from their frontage now. Luric was impressed. Ten years ago, any sort glass oil lamp would’ve been considered a modern commodity and only a few households could afford them. Paraffin, together with many other far more essential things, was hard to come by in these parts. It seemed, though, that Runrick wasn’t ready for cobblestone yet. Perhaps it was for the best, since shit tended to stand out less on muddy streets. Live stock was still free to roam wherever its owner pleased, apparently. Most towns these days forbade animal trade inside its bounds, precisely because of the mess it left behind, but obviously that memo had yet to reach Runrick.

Luric looked around. Nothing he’d seen up until now had awoken any distinct memories. There was only so much he could make out in the dim light, but he still expected to recognize at least a few street corners, or a broken-down shop front, a run-down alley. It was almost a little disappointing. He’d thought the sight of this old home town would’ve stirred his mind, and heart, a little more. Perhaps he had misjudged the impact this place had left on him. And that worried him a little.

To Luric, this excursion was all about personal gratification, and that depended solely on the importance this town and its people still had to him. He had tried to put his childhood behind him only out of sheer defiance, and to help mold himself into a better, stronger person, but he had always made sure that somewhere in the depths of his soul a wound remained open just enough to help him remember this place and what it did to him. If that wound had closed over, then there was no pain to feed the bitterness he needed for that gratification. And coming here had been a mistake.

It wasn’t until they reached the main street leading up to the market square that he started to feel a vague sense of familiarity, but nothing beyond that. He spotted a large stone house with glass windows from where the inviting glow of the fireplace beckoned. It looked presentable enough to be an inn, so he made a beeline for it, Nelle in tow. But instead of entering immediately, he paused in front of the window to peer inside between the iron grills. The dining hall was empty, save for a lone woman sitting behind a wooden counter. She seemed to be struggling to stay awake, her head constantly dipping forward as her eyes fell shut before jerking back up. He tried to get a good look of her face to see if he could recognize her.

And he did.

Recollection hit him with such force that it left him momentarily stunned, and when the shock subsided he felt an unexpected surge of emotions wash over him.

She was older, fatter, but he recognized her. She had been there that day. This woman hadn’t been someone close to him in the past, had only seen her in passing as a child, and he couldn’t even remember her name, but he was certain he had seen her face in the crowd he still had nightmares about. She might have even been there in the one he had on the train earlier. And that was all that mattered.

Guess the wound is still very much open, he thought, relieved.

He moved away from the window, started to formulate a plan on how he wanted go about this. Beside him, he felt Nelle shift, probably wondering why they hadn’t gone inside yet. Maybe he could use her.

“Would you mind being the one to talk to the innkeepers?”

Nelle frowned up at him and opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it in resignation.

It was obvious that this didn’t make any sense to her. Why should she be the one to talk to the locals when he was the one who had lived here in the past? It seemed, though, that his gentlemanly deed from earlier had paid off; without asking any questions, she went for the front door and opened it. Luric was right behind her but pulled the hood over his head before stepping inside. He didn’t think the woman would recognize him immediately, but he wanted to make sure she didn’t alert anyone of his presence before he wanted her to. When Nelle saw this, her frown deepened, even looked a bit exasperated with him. It hadn’t rained yet, he hadn’t used the hood at all while they had been out in the cold, why on earth would he pull it up now, indoors? – was written all over her face. To her credit, she still didn’t ask any question. Just sighed and turned around to walk towards the woman.

Said woman was now fully awake and alert. She looked at them in disbelief, hands sliding slowly behind the counter. He wondered if she had a rifle there. Runrick was so remote even the innkeepers were confused when they actually had customers, he thought bemusedly. Though he supposed two strangers clad in black, appearing in the dead of a stormy night on your doorstep, would put anyone on edge. She did look a little scared. Good.

“Um…,” was all the woman could muster.

Nelle didn’t wait for her to get her bearings.

“Good evening, madam. We are from the Institute of Occult Science and Affairs, and we have been sent here to aid you in your plight.”

“In my….” The woman was obviously still having difficulties.

Undeterred, Nelle went on. “Your town executives have sent a message to us about a shadow critter causing havoc in your community?”

A beat.

“Oh - OH!” Apparently, it had finally hit home. “You’re the - you’re here to- OH, THANK GOODNESS!”

The woman brought her hands to her chest as she heaved in relief. She was still a little shaken and tears were now welling up in her eyes. “We thought it got lost on the way. Or that…m-my husband said, city folks don’t bother with people like us.”

And they normally don’t, thought Luric. The woman was now throwing worried glances in his direction. He had kept his distance and stood silently near the doorway, hood half-covering his face. He must’ve cut a frightening image. Nelle interjected, trying to keep the woman’s attention on her.

“We apologize for taking so long. The Institute will offer compensation to anyone who has lost livestock during the time it took for us to answer your call.”

The woman looked at her oddly, as if unsure on how to answer that. She then mumbled something in a small, broken voice that even Nelle had trouble hearing.

“I beg your pardon, madam, could you please repeat that?”

“P-people, m’lady,” she stuttered. “It stopped commin’ after cows and sheep weeks ago. It kills people now,” she finished with a sob, and the tears were now freely running down her face. Luric raised his head in surprise. Nelle, on the other hand, had gone rigid.

“Mother’s love, we keep hearing ‘bout someone disappearing every couple o’ days now. We even tried - when we saw that no one was coming, we tried to kill it ourselves, a-and it-it - OH, those poor boys!” She had completely broken down now, palms frantically wiping away at her face.

We’re dealing with a man-eater? Well, he had encountered monsters like that plenty of times before, so he wasn’t all too worried. He looked over at Nelle. Her back was ramrod straight, her entire framecompletely still and silently watching the crying woman in front of her. It was probably fair to assume that she was quite a bit worried. The initial message had been about a black-furred pest with bright red eyes, lurking at the outskirts of Runrick, and stealing their animals. The people at the Institute had concluded that it was a shadow critter that had outgrown squirrels and rabbits, and was now looking for larger, easy prey. Sheep and the occasional bovine, nothing more. But shadow critters never went after people. Whatever this was, it hunted humans, and that changed the parameters of their mission. Something else she hadn’t come prepared for, judging from her reaction on the road earlier.

“Please stop crying, madam. We will take care of it.” Nelle’s voice was steady. Luric was impressed. She had pulled herself together far faster than he had expected. Well, to be fair, she knew it wasn’t her that had to fight the damn thing anyway. She was only here to observe him.

The woman had settled down somewhat and started pacing back and forth, as if she couldn’t decide which way to go. “I have to run to tell’em. Oh, but I don’t wanna go out into the night alone. But they have to know.”

“We will inform the town council of our arrival first thing in the morning, madam.”

“But they’re havin’ a meetin’ right now. At the prayhouse. “

Luric perked up at that.

“It got another today,” she explained. “Bramber. Oh, that kind, sweet boy.”

He paused at that name. Bramber. Bramber….Bramby?! Suddenly, the image of a short, stout, blond haired boy sneering at him popped up in his mind. He remembered him, only he had been neither kind nor sweet. Bramby had been one of the meaner kids at his school. They hadn’t been friends or even gotten along. Younger and smaller than others, Bramby had liked following the bigger kids around; being with them made him feel more important, higher up on the food chain of the school yard. And if those kids liked to pick on Luric, then so did Bramby. Still, Luric was a little sorry that he died.

He sure would’ve liked that little kiss ass to see him now. Would you have started following me around this time? He huffed, amused, to himself.

The sound had caught the woman and Nelle’s attention. Nelle looked at him disapprovingly. If only she knew how little he cared about propriety right now. Ignoring her, he addressed the woman with a calm, even voice. “Leave it to me then, madam. I’ll go now to let them know we’re here.”

She looked at him with a mixture of gratefulness and uncertainty.

“Would you, m’lord? Thank you!“ She was leaning in a little, trying to see his face under the hood.

He let her. “It’s my pleasure.”

Luric turned to Nelle, who had gone from disapproval back to confusion.

“I assume you can handle it from here?” he said while dropping their luggage unceremoniously on the floor. As he turned to open the door he heard the woman say hurriedly.

“Wait, m’lord! I haven’ told ya where our prayhouse is.”

He paused. He turned back to her, pulled back his hood so she could see his face fully, and smiled at her.

“Don’t worry, madam, I still know where it is.”

She blinked. She didn’t understand. She didn’t recognize him. But as he was closing the door behind him, he saw her face twist into something like realization. Pleased with himself, he stepped into the night.