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Chapter 1.1

The sound of heavy footfalls resounded off the cobblestone streets and into the vacant sky above. Clad all in black, the stranger walked down the center of the road. His eyes glanced passed the wide brim of his hat to the dark windows that lined the encroaching walls. They were all drawn shut by this time of night, leaving only the faint glow of flickering streetlights to illuminate the desolate cityscape. The long edge of his coat dragged lightly on the ground as he moved, stirring up a cloud of dust in his wake.

He didn't know why, but something about the city in these hours made him cringe. Maybe it was the combination of the silence and the darkness, stifling like a midsummer's heat, enshrouding and suffocating him in its balmy hands. Yet again, the dark had never bothered him. On the contrary, he welcomed it. But this was different.

As he rounded the corner of 7th Street, his eyes caught the dying flame of a candle down the adjoining alley, sitting like a vigilant watch dog in the window of the inn. Two figures stood outside the building's door, shifting nervously where they stood as if waiting for something bad to happen.

If they only knew, he thought, stepping into the alley and making his way towards them. The shorter of the two heard the sound of his boots crunching on the gravel and her head shot up in alarm. She remained silent for a second, then finally spoke.

“Are you the one they called?” she asked, wringing her hands fearfully.

The stranger turned his head to the left, then the right, then his eyes locked with hers. “I suppose so.” His voice was clear and calculating. He took a step forward. “Not like there are too many others waltzing around these streets at night.”

“Then you know about the...”

“Harding told me. I know what I'm dealing with. Speaking of which, is he around?”

The second figure straightened himself and walked over to meet the man. “Jack Harding. We spoke on the phone.” He extended his hand in greeting.

“Yeah, I know.” the man grunted, ignoring the offer of friendship. “So, are you going to show me where it is or am I going to have to find it myself?”

“O-of course.” Jack stammered, slightly taken aback. “This way.”

Jack led the way into the inn, taking the candle from the window to light the way. The girl followed close at his side, with the stranger tailing a few steps behind.

“I'm truly sorry to have to have called you in,” Jack continued, “but I felt that... this sort of thing isn't exactly normal. I have heard you have quite a reputation for these 'exterminations'.”

“Exorcisms.”

“Exorcisms?”

“We're not pest control. You have a rat problem, you hire an exterminator. You have a supernatural problem, you call an...”

“Exorcist. Right.”

The three walked silently for a short while, passing by door upon door down the inn hallway. At the point where the stairs began again, the girl finally spoke up.

“So, how long have you been doing this?” she inquired, her nerves a little calmed by Jack's presence.

“The exorcising or the house calls. Because technically-”

“The hunting.”

The stranger cocked his head to one side and shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know. Four years, maybe five. Long enough.”

“I thought you worked with a group.”

“Yes, usually, but half of 'em are out of the country and the other two are having problems of their own. Werewolves.”

“Kira's had a few run-ins with werewolves.” Jack commented.

“It's true.” she sighed. “Those ugly hags smell worse than swamp gas.”

“Amen.” the stranger replied.

Kira took a second of the newfound quiet to look over the man behind her. His eyes were focused on the rickety stairs now below his feet, leaving the edges of the hat to block the view of his face. Dark locks of hair hung down to his shoulders, brushing their lightened tips against the fabric of his collar. She guessed he was an inch or so taller than Jack, but it was hard to tell at the present angle.

At the top of the stairs, Jack stopped. Before them lay another hallway, but this one was different. Much different.

From the cracks in the ceiling, dark, molten filth dripped like blood onto the smoking floor below. The walls buckled under the streams of foul fluid, while others had burned through completely, giving full view of the rooms beyond them. Tongues of purple flame protruded from the numbers on the doors, licking the air and scorching the few spots of plaster left untouched.

The stranger just stood there for a few minutes, watching the chaos with a lack of amusement. Kira clutched Jack's arm, staying behind him so as not to come close to the threshold where the ensuing hell began. Jack tried to pass the candle to the stranger, but he shook his head.

“That won't do much.” he insisted.

“What is it?” whispered Kira.

“Don't worry. It's just a Fury. These things get a bad reputation 'cause of how 'scary' they look, but they're actually about as dangerous as a poltergeist.”

“Are you kidding?” demanded Jack. “Look at it! It's practically acidic!”

The stranger looked at Jack. “Oh, of course. Silly me. Why should the expert be right, eh? The panicking, ignorant townsfolk are always SO much more informed.”

“Then how do you get rid of it?” said Kira.

The stranger removed his hat and set it on the end of the banister. She saw his face, fearless and bold, looking out over the scene before him.

“Trust me.” he said, taking a gun from the holster at his waist. “I've done this before.”

Chapter 1.3

The stranger's voice caught in his throat, stifling what could be considered a scream. His hand felt like it was being torn apart as thousands of tiny ice crystals crawled up his flesh, holding him fast to the door. Thick haze spilled from his mouth, the temperature coursing through his body and killing him from the inside out. Slowly, slowly, he fell to his knees, streams of icy blood leaking from his maw.

No, this is wrong, he thought. This shouldn't be happening. His body tried to gasp for air, but only a hollow hiss of steam escaped his lips. He could barely feel the touch of his own frozen hair on his neck as his skin numbed even further. Now he could barely feel himself dying.

What is this thing?

On the brink of unconsciousness, the stranger felt an alien force tugging on the end of his trapped hand. He hardly noticed himself being dragged through the door, which had turned into a mahogany vapor that weighed heavily on his skin. Through his clouding eyes, he could see the light turning from the amethystine glow of the flames to a cerulean hue like ice. A wisp of air eluded his jaws and drifted upwards and out of sight.


I'm dying... I have to be... there's nothing else it could be, his disoriented mind assured him. And what do you know, Hell's frozen over.

Time seemed to stand still as he hovered there, head lifted like a hangman's at an unearthly slant. His eyes were wide with terror, their olive-green iris' paled by the frost. Arms swinging freely at his sides, he swayed on his knees, chest weighed down by the weight of ice spreading through his veins. In his fear, he scarcely heard the sound of the whisper by his ear.

“Hello, Gerard.” a soft, feminine voice crooned. The stranger felt the gust of breath on the nape of his neck, but instead of warm and comforting, it was cold and biting, like the touch of winter. Try as he might, he found himself unable to move, let alone respond.

“Don't worry, I'm not here to kill you.” As she spoke, Gerard could feel the ice in his throat begin to melt, allowing him to breath more easily. “If I wanted that,” she paused, laughing playfully, “I'd have done so already.”

“W-What the hell are you?” he demanded, his words coming in short, shivering gasps.

She chuckled. “That's the million dollar question, isn't it?” Her fingers moved over the skin of his neck, chilling the skin but clearing up his larynx even further.

“There's a few.”

“Oh, how true. But what I am... that's beyond the point.”

Gerard winced as long, razor-sharp fingernails dug into his back. He felt them moving artistically across his skin, tearing pieces from his jacket and from his hide.

“Who I am,” she purred, forcing emphasis on the first word, “...now that's a different story.”

“Look, I really don't have time for this.” Gerard growled through gritted teeth. “If you're going to kill me, get it over with.”

“Have you heard a word I've said?” she demanded in an offended tone. “Of course, I can kill you if I want. But personally, if I were in your shoes, I'd prefer life.”

“Then I suppose I'd better play along?” He raised an eyebrow in mock interest.

The being's grip on his skin tightened and he felt blood coursing down his back. “I'm going to be perfectly honest with you, Mr. Way,” she hissed. “This is hardly the time for sarcasm. I can end your life in a second if I so choose to. So I'll cut to the quick and give you this warning one time and one time only: you and your 'hunters' had better back off while you still have your dignity and your lives. A war is coming and you are on the losing side. Join the other team or get out of the way.”

Gerard sat silent for a few seconds, seeming to ponder the alternatives deeply.

“I guess that doesn't leave many options... so I suppose...” He paused. “While I can't speak for the rest of the guys, I can say this: there is no way in hell we are going to let you stare us down and make us back out. If a war's coming, we're going to be on the front lines doing whatever we can to stop you. Whether that means we get wounded or we die, it doesn't matter, 'cause we're not about to let a b***h like you lay this world to waste. Crawl into a hole and die.”

Gerard screamed in agony as she tore her claws from his flesh. “You little rodent.” She grabbed him by the hair and tugged his head backwards with a force that threatened to break his neck. Her face leaned down over his, allowing him to see into the depths of her hollow eyes. They seemed to pierce his very soul. “You are going to die. Slowly and painfully. But this is not the time nor the place. Defend the light and you will burn with it.”

“Drop dead.” he spat in defiance.

A dark spark lit in the pits of her vacant sockets. With a wave of her hand, a darkness consumed the room,a darkness so thick Gerard couldn't see an inch in front of his face. It crept over his flesh like an insect, smothering him and driving the little air left in his lungs out.

Don't fear the dark, Gerard told himself. No matter what happens. Never fear the dark.