I park the bike a few blocks from Valorath Rd. Partially so I can sniff around, but mostly because it isn’t exactly inconspicuous.
The engine is loud, and the classic black-and-chrome styling tends to draw attention, especially in this part of town. But the streets are almost barren at this hour. Too late in the day for the evening crowd to be wandering around, and too early for the real nightlife to be out. So there isn’t much to see as I make my way down the sidewalk.
A few yokai idling on the curb, waving passersby into their dimly lit shops, and a single wendigo begging on the corner.
He holds his hand out in need, but the pedestrians steer clear, unwilling to risk his hunger. I drop a few drac in his palm as I pass him by, and he smiles politely, tipping his hat before swallowing the coins whole.
It turns out the address I was given is no address at all, as it leads me to a boarded-up shop with the words “CURSED DO NOT ENTER” painted over the windows in fresh, white paint.
Beyond the foggy glass, the building is empty, save for a few broken display cases, and when I check the door, it’s locked.
“Fucking idiot,” I grumble, just as my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Unknown
Down the alley.
“Oh, that’s great.”
There is an alley on my right. But it’s narrow. Too narrow. Barely enough room to shift, and it’s unlit for about fifty feet, after which a single lamp, hanging off the side of the building, illuminates the brick wall that marks a dead end.
Perfect.
My phone vibrates as I idle at the mouth of the alleyway, a single word flashing on the screen.
Unknown
Now.
“Alright,” I shout. “Impatient.”
Stuffing my phone back in my pocket, I begin to inch my way into the dark, thinking maybe I should have dragged Dred along with me.
Not that he’s much use in a fight. He’s a little too reactive. Tends to make a huge mess. But I’ll need somebody to corroborate my story when they find the body, and he’s the best liar I know. Aside from me.
My steps feels loud, in the quiet night, almost deafening. Even as I step over the stray wrappers and plastic bags, there’s no avoiding the noisy scrape of my boots on the cobblestones, or the unmistakable squeak of scattering rats.
Hells, couldn’t we do this literally anywhere else?
The pungent odor of garbage and sewage clogs my senses, making it impossible to smell anything. So I don’t notice the fragrance of the person standing behind me until it’s too late.
“Elliot?” a voice calls out.
I catch the image of a woman emerging from the empty street as I turn, but I can’t make out her features as she stops just short of the streetlamp.
“You came,” she says, a smile in her voice as if we’re here for a blind date and not extortion.
“Didn’t have much of a choice,” I answer, shielding my eyes to try and get a better look.
From where I stand, she looks short, thin, and long, and there’s a tail swishing back and forth behind her, full and bushy—a wolf.
“We always have a choice,” she answers. “And I’m here to give you one.”
The sound of crunching paper echoes through the alleyway as she makes her way into the light, and my tail stiffens as the flickering lamp catches her face.
I know this wolf. She’s one of ours. A shy, mousy little thing that I last recall seeing perched in Deacon’s lap. Only she looks much different from how I remember.
The girl I’m familiar with is quite reserved, to say the least. I don’t think I’ve so much as seen her ankle in the past three years. But the girl standing in front of me seems to be trying on someone else’s idea of confidence.
