Snippet #2405327

So you're a ghoul, a warlock, a hunter of the night?

I'm a cop.

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The Darkling pounded up six flights of stairs with his loaded Sig Sauer gleaming in his hands. To be honest, he didn't know why he suddenly chased after the two youths on the walk home after finishing the crime scene walkover and returning the (his) police badge and crime scene notes to his Fetch. All he saw a girl cradling a woman pressing a blood soaked hand to her neck and the EMT's taking both of them to the hospital. And the man she was with ducked into an alleyway and turned into a werewolf. If there was any doubt to the supernatural raising its dirty head in this case, this was the final nail in the coffin. Stiff with holes in his neck. Girl holding another girl with holes in her neck. Wolfmen leaping up buildings. Things were getting complicated fast and Nicholas did not like this at all.


He was by no means an Antiquarian; he had no encyclopedic knowledge of the occult floating about in his noggin. Straight up fighting other supernatural denizens of the world wasn't his strong suit. Nicholas didn't know if the whole wooden stake thing was some Hollywood contrivance or if wolves hated silver the way the Fae hated cold iron. Hell, he had little to no clue what he was dealing with. Still, he ground to a stop at the landing at the third floor and slunk into a quiet-step to where he thought he had seen the pair climb up the side of the building. All he had was a wrenching feeling in his gut and a bad taste in his mouth. That damnable intuition of his sending a crick in his jaw and thud-thud in his chest.

The abandoned apartments were mostly former squatter quarters. For some reason, it seemed as if the building had been recently abandoned. A dull beige and vomit green colored the empty hallways. Doors stood half open to reveal rooms with sunlight weakly crawling through the barred windows. The smell of stale air trailed through the entire floor. Down a long shady corridor, two figures three figures stood by an open window. Nicholas sank to a crouch and silently reached out to the shadows through the ancient contracts of the Wyrd.

So, Shade, would you kindly hide me from the ghoul and the wolfie here? Seems like they're making a ruckus early in the mornin' an' troddin' on you with no respect so I've come to sort the troublemakers out. A velvet voice from the darkness, like a woman freshly roused from deep slumber, drifted around Nicholas and him alone Hide you from a Bloodless One and a Skinshifter, Nicky? A hard task; they sleep in my shade too. But the Fae pact stands. Be now light-shy, Changeling. And rustle the other children for me, please? A brief rush of Wyrdness surged through Nicholas as he felt the shadows exact their toll of magical Glamour from his soul. His ankles sank into shade and then his waist until only his white eyes and the top of his head peeked out from the shade-patch he had subsumed himself in. He soundlessly crept along the length of the shadow and stopped at the shadowedge, a few feet shy of the currently turned away girl and wolf duo.

He took a moment to eavesdrop on them while he flicked the safety on the Sauer currently prodding its barrel up through the shade.

''...nt to tell us why you were in the building? And if not, we can always make you talk," said the girl to an old man lying on the floor. Unfortunately, his shadow wasn't touching the shadow where Nicholas hid, so any chance of surprising the two that way was nixed.

“Now now now…There’s no need to get feisty sweet heart," said the boy. "I’m sure the man will tell as all we need to know…” Then he whispered something that he couldn't quite catch before leaping through the nearby window. The girl turned back to the old man with a vicious look.

"Alright bud, you better start talking now. Why were you in the building? I know it wasn't to get away and drink. I can feel the real reason. So you better make it quick."

Despite the first urge to knock her to the ground while he had the element of surprise, Nicholas kept himself submerged in the shadows just a bit longer to see what angle these two were playing at. Still, he kept his pistol at the ready. Vamp or Wolf, nothing liked getting shot.