Report - Operation Monsignor Wolf - Part 1

Mission Debrief:

Lead Operative: Bani Elkind

Operative(s): Cornel Weiss, Blanka Bess

Contractor: Bjorn Oleander

Person(s) of Interest: Cardinal Rolland Vaunquelin, Bridget du Rivka, Aaron Paul, Lloyd Weber, Vadim Buckley

Expenses: 135 Lyra (Receipts included)

Outcome: In Progress

Summary:

Opposing factions in Neuchatel, both with intentions ranging from gray to black. Our objective is to understand, defuse, destroy, or undermine, as we see fit to resolve the situation to bring balance to the relationship. Two known casualties so far from this conflict.

Actions include: Investigation of the head of the Church in the area, a seat of power in the community. Parallel investigation of shapeshifter claims with links to Kalderari. Further investigation of additional figures as needed. Path to ideal resolution currently indeterminate.

Detail:

Right place, wrong time.

Neuchatel is beautiful. While I’ve been here from time to time, it always catches me off guard at how idyllic and calm this place is, especially with the flowering growth of springtime. Lush green forests and rolling fields with ancient low stone fences surround the area. The town is perched overlooking a lake that makes the Spring evenings perpetually cool, if not somewhat chilly. Ancient buildings dot the city, but even the more modern buildings are designed to seamlessly blend in with buildings far older.

There is a significant population, mostly craftsman and service workers, as well as those committed to support the grand Vedician church.

Writing this calms me; puts things into perspective. My hands have stopped shaking so this will be more legible.

We came to Neuchatel to speak with a woman of the church as well as investigate some sightings of a shapeshifter--appearing as a man with a wolf’s head. Both incidents appeared to juxtapose each other. Since our appointment with the woman of the church wasn’t until the next day, we had some free time to follow up on leads. We started by stirring up some information around the sighting of a shapeshifter.

Sifting through the rumors we encountered, it seems that the church has a campaign against the Kalderari, labeling them as dangerous. These rumors had a more insidious implication that they have ties to the shapeshifter sightings.

Cornel was burned on his time with Blanka. I can’t say that either of them try to maintain a semblance of tolerating each other. It was a wonder that neither had inflicted unspeakable horrors on the other. Unfortunately, my money would have been on Blanka being the winner there.

I decided to see if we could get some information on the rumors. I brought Blanka along to provide some cover for the ruse. Although, I will frankly admit, having her call me Uncle Bani makes my skin crawl.

The ruse worked well enough.

Her pining questions about visiting the Gypsy camps riled up one of the shopkeepers. He highlighted a touch more information about the campaign against the Kalderari, but the information was very thin consisting of rumors and hearsay. Still the finger was pointing at the Kalderari. This time, with a little more religious zeal. I took this as the town being overwrought with religious fervor, but it seemed limited to key individuals who had the insignia of the Vedician Church on their doorways.

It was time to investigate the source of their ire. Blanka and I took a cab to the encampment that was just outside of town. On approach, it felt like an outdoor fair, a celebration of Spring. Music, festive colors, smells of spices and cooked meats, and nearly all of them with wide, white smiles. A various ensemble of carts, trailers, and just about anything that could be dragged behind the trucks and tractors that were organized on both sides of the camp.

There was a sense to it. This reminded him of what I’d learned from researching and eventually visiting America. Pioneers used their wagons as a defensive perimeter. The low wall was a protective boundary, the vehicles were parked close enough to keep intruders from sneaking through.

Along with the smiles everywhere, there were eyes. Some squinted with a smile, others simply observing. The men dressed in drab, dark colors added to the scenery. Your eyes slipped over them, with their camouflage simply being less interesting than everything else. And with such bright, colorful spots to blind you, they were practically invisible.

This place could be extremely dangerous. Upon leaning in to explain this to Blanka, she’d already locked eyes with one of the younglings in the crowd. He came over with a swagger and started to exert his charms. He had no idea how far in over his head he was.

I asked to see their knives. Leaning more toward those that’d find more use in an alleyway than a kitchen. While she had the majority of the attention, I was able to keep an eye on the camp. People from outside flowed into this place, buying wares then walking off with bright packages, food, and drink. Many of those packages were the cutlery, pots, and pans. It was no wonder the craftsmen and metalworkers in town had so much negative to say about them. And their craftsmanship is good.

Blanka’s interest in the knives and sly glances at the boy triggered a flush in both of them. His demeanor went more placid, less showman. She found a long folding blade, one that I had my own eye on, and the young man offered an obscenely low thirteen Lyra. I looked at Blanka, and realized what had played out.

Unfortunately, so did the camp’s leader. He strode through with a smile. The only crack in the facade was his overacting.

“Such beautiful red hair. She’s such a charmer.”

I knew we’d been made at that point. He put his arm around her. I tried to move to intervene, but was met by a deft performance of keepaway. He then introduced himself as Vadim Buckland. I didn’t feel we were in danger. Yet.

We joined him deeper in the camp. Not necessarily hostages, but, at least, able to speak without disturbing his thriving business. Back here, all he’d have to do is snap his fingers and we’d be surrounded. Blanka asked her questions, none of which I will repeat here. The instant rejection from both myself and Vadim, sent her to her feet and she stormed back out to the road.

While not necessarily a ruse, it still worked to give us a common ground, however simple, to build from. I asked Vadim about the word about town that we should fear his people. I avoided any obvious overtones, of course. He explained that when the rule of law flexes against him, he explained that they will bend as well, but he follows the laws of the land.

He mentioned the pressure from Cardinal Rolland Vaunquelin. That something had changed in the man to where he no longer had charity toward Calderari and actively slandered them.

After our short conversation, I thanked him for his explanation. Then, to turn to a lighter subject, I asked him for some pipe smoke, Sugar Sand. I was fond of the idea of getting a pipe and putting a smoking jacket to good use. He sent a boy away to fetch some. I smiled at the boy and followed his path and watched him open a door into one of the wagons. There were several people in the wagon, cooking over a standing fuel stove. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. One of the standing figures had the head of what appeared to be an Alamanian Shepherd. I turned to face him, holding the smile on my face, looking into the flames in front of me. Vadim was talking to someone else when I faced forward and didn’t appear to notice my noticing.

My heart was racing.

The boy returned, I felt him brush past me. He handed Vadim the pouch. He packed a pipe and allowed me to sample the goods before I purchased. It had a rich nutty flavor laced with molasses. It coated my mouth and sweetened the air and took my mind away from the momentary panic.

“How much?”

“20 Lyra.”

“Is this enough to cover the indiscretions of my companion?”

“We all tread a fine line. Some emerge with wisdom; others with scars.”

He spoke through a smile. I returned the smile and nodded my farewell.

I followed the path that Blanka chose through the wagons. I stopped for a moment, out of sight from everyone, and took a deep cleansing breath. I exhaled, holding it, releasing the pent up energy of the moment, then continued the path out.

The cabbie we’d paid to return was either late, or I was early. Blanka was impatiently waiting. If the taxi arrived before I got there, I wasn’t quite sure if she’d have left me behind. I stayed silent on the way back to the hotel. Oh, and if it wasn’t obvious earlier, Blanka now owns a 12 centimeter folding blade with an elk bone handle. She got it for a steal.

It was late afternoon when we arrived at the hotel. Cornel was occupied at the bar. When we arrived it was a surprise to see Bjorn leaning in a corner. He was supposed to be hundreds of kilometers from here.

“One of yers had an accident,” he said, “Dey called me back.”

I nodded emphatically. Bjorn had already proven dependable. I introduced him to the others. He was concerned about Blanka’s age. Blanka was not concerned about his concern. Cornel and him exchanged a knowing look. I explained what I saw at the Kalderari’s camp. Blanka was livid that I had kept it in. Bjorn described the creature as a Skellar. Blanka described it as a Loup Garou. And we eventually settled on werewolves.

Next time, and this is a gentle ask, if you could stow a duplicate of the briefing documents in my gear. It would keep things moving forward smoothly. When our banter turned toward tomorrow’s agenda. I was met with blank stares about any information beyond what I’d already heard. Thankfully, we did receive your message later that evening. And you likely received my second, more abstract message. There was a lot of talk about extermination of the known threat. Bjorn does have a shotgun full of silver buckshot, after all. They wouldn’t take kindly to one of their own getting gunned down. They are all family, after all.

Oh. Not just a family. They are a pack. Dammit. And now I get it as I’m writing this. Isn’t that an apt term for an ever mysterious, ever watchful band of gypsies. Roving the countryside, disappearing at a moment’s notice, if need be. But, I’ll get to that.

I’m not a man of any deep superstitions. Not very many, at least, there seems to be more and more that I come by way of my companions. This is just another unsettling fact I’d almost be more content with being ignorant of.

Bjorn confided that he didn’t feel right, working on Odin’s holy day. He said that Odin would demand a sacrifice and if it wasn’t acceptable, we’d likely not see the next sunrise. Whether struck down by Valkyries or eaten by horse sized crows, I didn’t quite know what to expect. I promised I’d join him to see it through. I’d feel safer if he was by my side than otherwise.

Please make a note, Wednesday’s need to be a consideration for an operation when Bjorn is involved.

After everyone left, a journalist came into the bar. We exchanged pleasantries and ended up buying each other drinks. First because I longed for a stretch of normal conversation. His name is Dennis Moreau. When the next round came up, he obliged, pulling the most popular of my travelogue books from his bag and laying it on the bar. I hadn’t seen a copy of that book in ages. It wasn’t exactly comfortable as it rested on the bones of my old life. He handed me a pen and I signed it for him with a smile and we sipped our drinks.

I noticed he was carrying a compact camera, something that could be easily secreted away. He was clearly here for a purpose, and I grew concerned if he’d heard tell of the shapeshifters wandering the streets. He said that he was making an investment that he hoped would pay off. If I met him tomorrow evening, he said that we might have something to celebrate. I didn’t press him beyond that.

I met with Bjorn for breakfast and we tended to the “sacrifice”. A pig, slaughtered and left as an offering to Odin in a copse of trees just off of the walking path. It set the mood for the rest of the day. Bjorn was content, even proud, of the offering. The few citizens of the city that happened upon the display shortly thereafter likely didn’t quite appreciate it the same way.

Blanka’s fascinated with Bjorn. His idiosyncrasies and superstitions make him the most interesting person she’s met in some time. His intense distrust of magic and her casual and frequent use of it is a very real risk. I thought Bjorn and I were oil and water, keeping to our tasks and objectives. This is far more applicable to Blanka and Bjorn. Keeping the water away when the oil is boiling is going to be crucial.

Our appointment with Bridgette du Rivka happened on schedule. At 1400 she buzzed us in and we spoke with her on the third story balcony overlooking the street. Her station, being the attendant to the Augury must bring some status, but you wouldn’t see it from her. She’s a hawkish, intense woman; not bothered at all by the overwhelming force we brought for our visit.

Blanka took notes. Bjorn stood guard. Cornel took in the environment.

It was there we learned more of Cardinal Valenquin. It was a slow process of rolling back policy and instigating a grass roots offensive against the Kalderari. His activity since his return from Paris, nearly six months ago, has been very intent on making their lives miserable, but also that of his less well-to-do followers, as they received benefits from the same welfare events that the Kalderari would also take advantage of.

This had sown bad blood within the community toward the Kalderari, with the Cardinal using his office as a platform against them. This was all with the intent of removing their element. This has given rise to tensions and posturing between the two factions.

Bridgette acknowledged that what she said was a condemnation of the man, but she felt that the Cardinal still is a good man. At least, she still believes he has that goodness in him.

It was then that Bridgette mentioned that a man was attacked in the streets two nights ago. This is where the word of a shapeshifter came about.

“No one had mentioned an attack. Sighting, yes, but attack?” 

“It does look like a wild animal bit him, he said that it stood on two feet just like you and I. Now, he lays in bed with a fever. The treatments have not worked. I’ve been tending to him myself.”

I saw the reactions from everyone behind Bridgette as they all exchanged glances. My heart sunk.

When Bridgette said her peace, she simply stopped talking. She had no need to pontificate on anything but these immediate thoughts. Her caution around speaking of the Cardinal was also apparent. She would not have brought it up unless she felt it was very, very necessary. I probed with a few other questions and they yielded very little additional information. She wasn’t a gossip, which made her initial comments and observation that much more poignant. Truly, I couldn’t imagine a more stolid soul who would attend to someone who receives guidance from the divine.

Outside of the apartment and down the street, we found a cafe. We settled in and planned out our next steps.

“If the man is turning we’re going to have ta do something about it. It takes three days for da change ta take hold.”

“So, how do we save him?”

“We kill da one who bit him.”

I put my hand to my face. This wasn’t a decision I was comfortable making.

Blanka chimed in.

“Oh, it’s much more scientific than that.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. Scientific wasn’t a word I’d be using in this situation.

She continued.

“We find Monkshood and make a remedy.”

“Monkshood is poisonous,” I said, “Fatal, even.”

“We could find it at an alchemist shop!”

“May I ask, are there any other medicinal properties of Monkshood outside of killing someone?”

“Well, no.”

“They’re not going to sell poison at an alchemist shop.”

“It isn’t poisonous to someone infected,” she said.

“Who is gonna ask da alchemist they need Monkshood ta cure Lycanthrope?” Bjorn brought the reality to bear.

Blanka was quiet, she was still thinking. It just hadn’t all come together, yet.

“Even if we get it. How do we know if he’s infected? Outside of the sprouting hair where he shouldn’t?” I asked.

The silence continued. There were blank stares and shrugs.

“We need more information than this. The Kalderari are the ones who’d know about this remedy. I’m sure they also know the signs to look for.” I said.

The decision to visit the Kalderari’s was something that we all agreed on. Everyone had different reasons why, of course. We returned to the hotel with due haste. I belted on my Toro and made sure I was ready for a fight. We gathered in the parking lot in the afternoon sun then caught a cab to the Kalderari camp.

The road around the camp was packed with roadside shoppers. A police car sat half a kilometer away from the camp with two officers sitting in the auto with the windows rolled down; casually chatting while keeping an eye on things.

We arrived to the bustle of a party in full swing. A young girl saw us unfurl from the cab. It had nearly been riding on its axles with everyone in it. She moved from her perch and started heading back. I clucked my tongue at her, and motioned for her to come over. She scowled and retreated into the camp.

I spied a boy throwing rocks into the road.

“Oi!”

He heard me and turned his head my way. He craned his head back so far that he was fully looking down his nose at me from his meter and a half height. He stood, swaggering toward us.

I tried to bribe him with a little cash to fetch Vadim.

“Tell Vadim that the man and the redhead are back.”

As soon as the boy heard that, he leaned to look past me and sized Blanka up.

“She’s a little old for you,” I said, mildly disgusted.

“We’ll see about that.” He made a provocative gesture.

Blanka held up a pinky and waved at him with a smirk, but he was unperturbed.

I held up two Lyra.

“So, can you get Vadim?”

Just then, Vadim walked forward with the young girl.

“There he is.”

The boy said it then immediately swiped the two Lyra. I watched, dumbfounded, as he returned to the roadside, picking some new rocks to throw. I grit my teeth. Vadim said something about a fine line, after all. I had a feeling that the boy was never going to come through life with either scars nor wisdom.

“Welcome back!”

Vadim’s arms were wide. I grimaced. I couldn’t stomach this showmanship. I had to get to the point. There were too many patrons to make a scene. I was extremely aware of disrupting their business.

“We couldn’t stay away,” I responded, matching his grand speech, forcing a smile.

I moved in, close, hands loose at my side. I whispered through my teeth.

“There’s a man with a wild animal bite and a fever. I think you know something about that. Can we talk?”

“Oh yes, my friend,” he said aloud for those around us. His face unperturbed.

“All of you, come right this way.”

There were a few onlookers who seemed surprised at the greeting we received. They looked at us with some intrigue as we moved between the loose pack of trailers.

We  withdrew to the back of the camp, among some of the drab colored hosts with watchful eyes. If I felt unnerved before, this should have made me question even more, but I also had Bjorn, Cornel, and Blanka at my side. It wouldn’t be pretty, but it also wouldn’t be hopeless. There was very little between us and the dense woods. I wondered if more lay just out of sight, observing.

We stood in a line, I was a step forward from the others. Vadim took a seat on a well crafted chair that stood on a small wooden platform. It appeared to be his throne.

I then laid out the situation as plainly as I could, and objectively as I could, revealing the secrets I discovered about the Kalderari back to him. That members of his family were likely Skellars, Bjorn’s word, or Loup Garou, Blanka’s word. Werewolves were something that Cornel and I connected with. If he was disgruntled, it didn’t touch his eyes for some time, but an underlying weariness crept in and his smile began to fade.

I then discussed the attack.

“We have a chance to save this man’s life, and I believe you can help.”

He lips pressed into a thin line, an uncharacteristic look for him. He raised a hand and this beautiful, bronzed goddess of a woman slipped out from her hiding place. It was a wonder she blended in so well, she was wrapped in bright billowing silks of dark blue, violets, and rich reds. Her deep black hair was caught up with ribbons of blue and gold. She did not acknowledge us as she leaned toward Vadim and then immediately slipped away.

Vadim grit his teeth as he thought on this.

“This was not a good man. He has laid many offenses against us. And, while I did not expressly allow it, I am not sad that it happened.”

“You said earlier that you bend and flex with the rule of law. This attack was neither flexing or bending.”

Vadim spoke aggressively, but it did not extend beyond his voice.

“The Cardinal has made our lives miserable. He is attacking our people’s way of life. This is my family. I am responsible for our well-being. He makes it harder for us to support our own livelihoods. We are well within our rights to be here.”

I nodded at his assessment, agreeing. He continued.

“That is why I haven’t controlled my people. Why those who wear the wolf have taken it upon themselves to exact revenge.”

He paused, considering me.

“You are a government man, no?”

“Not exactly.”

He looked at me confused. I wish I could convey that I’m a little confused about it myself. We might have to talk about that later.

“We work under the guidance of government authorities. I work for those who have considerable pull in those halls.”

 

“That is complicated.”

“Tell me about it.”

“We watch for situations and offenses that fall outside the boundaries of the lay man.” I bowed my head and gestured toward him, “Which is why we are talking and nothing more. I want to find a balance here. And, from your words, you want to do the same. I think we may be able to do this, but there are concessions.”

“We have made too many concessions!”

“The way I see it, you’ve played into their trap. The liberties you’ve taken, or have allowed, rather, have put you at risk. The village draws a direct line between the attack and the Kalderari. You need to step back before you are fully revealed.”

The woman returned, a small vial in her hand. She strode forward with all the confidence in the world and placed it in Vadim’s hand. She turned toward us, saying nothing, but tipping her chin up while studying each of us. I felt a twinge and the hair rose up on the back of my neck as her deep blue eyes locked with mine. I swore I could see her nostrils flaring with the exchange.

“Are you here to just talk? Or are you going to help?”

He was now rotating the vial in his hand, inspecting the vaguely purple liquid. 

I eyed the vial. If this was the antidote, we might be able to disarm this whole situation. It was a good bargaining chip. I spoke up.

“We will help, but I need you to give us the space to do our job. We’ve heard similar things about the Cardinal. In fact, our original reason for being here was the Cardinal, until we also heard of the attack. We plan to visit with the man and make a decision from there.”

“Cardinal Valenquin is not an easy man to see.”

“I wouldn’t expect so. Especially to you and yours, but we might be able to take a different approach,” I paused, “What do you know of Cardinal?”

He narrowed his eyes, then realized I was serious as I waited for his answer.

“It takes a charlatan to know a charlatan,” he bowed his head slightly at his admission, “He plays a dangerous game with the people of Neuchatel and the surrounding area. He barters their trust to his own ends. While I am not friends with these people. I do care for their wellbeing. Yes, it affects our wellbeing, but we are all of a greater community.

“I will admit that he once was a good man toward us. Months ago he started to poison his followers against us, sowing seeds of fear and spite. Changing his outreach to the needy in an attempt to hurt us. He surrounds himself with shadowy men to protect him. He listens to these counselors above all else. This is why the Cardinal is not an easy many to see. He is protected on all sides. We intended to take action, probe his defenses. I lost a dear friend to his men. I will not make that mistake again.”

I clenched my teeth at the admission. He continued.

“We will stand down, but know this, we will remedy the situation if you cannot. While you think you speak like you have the upper hand, we are the predators. Some of mine have little patience for this mistreatment. There would be blood running in the streets...”

I could hear Bjorn’s grip on the shotgun tighten. I hadn’t realized he was holding it out in the open. 

“And to do so, you will have destroyed everything you’ve built. You’d live like wild animals, constantly on the run. There would be extermination orders and government sanctioned hunts. All Kalderari, not just you and your tribe, would not be afforded any recognition or safety. Do you want that?”

He spread his hands, looking downcast.

“If it comes to that we will do what we must.” he locked eyes with me, “Will you make sure that it doesn’t come to that?”

I sighed. And nodded at the vial in his hand.

“That’s the first step. Saving that man will go a long way to defuse the situation.”

He beckoned me over and held the vial out. I took it from his hand and nodded in appreciation. I returned to Bjorn and Blanka’s side. I handed the vial to Blanka.

“You should know, those shadowy men that the Cardinal listens to, we’ve done our own investigations. The first is Leon Webber. He once lead the teamsters at the docks, a hard man who is quick to aggression. He handpicked the enforcers that surround the Cardinal.”

I pulled out a notepad and jotted the name down. I intended to do a little investigation on my own.

“There is one other, I forget his name.”

He consulted with his men briefly, they spoke in a flurry of hard consonants. I noticed that the woman did not fully retreat, she stood watching us from the lengthening shadows, one hand resting on her hip, the other loose by her side.

Vadim looked up from his consultation.

“Aaron Paul. Yes. He whispers directly into the Cardinal’s ear. I don’t know who he is. One day he just appeared. The escalation of hostilities came shortly after. We’ve only laid eyes on him a few times. He does not attend the church sessions.”

I finished my notes and nodded to him. He held his head back, suddenly looking like a king on his throne.

“If you do not resolve this within the week, we will resolve it for you. Whatever the cost.”

“We will resolve it. We will be in touch.”

Vadim nodded, but the rest of his troupe's eyes were on us: piercing, quiet, wary.

I looked to my sides, Cornel, hands loosely clasped, but his frame was rigid. Bjorn’s Vindicator shotgun was held crosswise over his massive chest. Blanka’s hands were white in tight little fists held firmly to her sides. I realized my own legs were locked in place from standing rigidly at attention. It was just another reminder of getting old. It took a moment for me to ease my knees out of the locked position and get them in motion again.

We turned toward the road, maneuvering through multiple rows of trailers and campers. I checked my watch. It was nearly 1600 when we left.

We moved down the road. We did not request that our cab return this time, but it was a good moment to consult with the team. There was a lot of talk of killing certain individuals: Vadim, the Cardinal, these two new mysterious men, Aaron and Leon. My only thought was to get to the Andres household and keep the one thing we had control over from happening.

We passed the police along our way out. I looked back and saw Bjorn still openly wielding the shotgun. It was perched on his shoulder. I cringed, but maintained my gait.

It took a while to wind our way down into Neuchatel. 

We found the household, it was a mere stone’s throw from Bridget’s residence.

Lights were on in the topmost floor. We moved carefully through the building and we came to a red painted door. Cornel snapped his fingers and waved us back from the door, he looked at the lock and along the edges of the door, and nodded and flagged us back. I looked to Bjorn who stood behind the door, gripping the shotgun low and close to his side. Bjorn nodded to me and I lightly knocked on the door.

The door opened to a cherubic woman with flushed cheeks. She seemed surprised to see company.

“Hello?”

“We came to check in on your husband. Make sure he is doing well.”

“Oh. Who are you?”

“We’re from the church,” I lied.

She brightened at that and let us in. The smells of years of cooking permeated everything. It smelled like there was a stew continuously cooking back in the kitchen. It was especially warm in the room, but the windows remained shut. She went and checked on her husband.

A young man was also in the room. He had settled into a chair with a thick book. He glanced up, but when hearing who we were with, he paid us little mind.

Mrs. Andres returned and took us back to where her husband was convalescing. Cornel stayed behind in the living room. When we walked into the room, there was a strong smell of medicines and alcohol. 

The man was dripping with sweat, but the blankets were pulled up to his neck. He fumbled for a glass of water, knocking it down.

“Oh, he’s thirsty. Can you get him some more water?”

She obliged, retrieving the glass, and whisking out of the room quickly.

“Shut the door.”

Blanka shut the door after the woman had left. I moved forward quickly and pulled the blankets off of him, he was wearing only his small clothes. The wound was on the shoulder, bright red like a ripe apple, the puncture wounds were clearly a bite from an animal with large canines. The wound was slicked with a curative ointment that was clearly not working.

“We’ve gotta get this done quickly. Bjorn? Could you hold him down?”

Bjorn unslung his shotgun and handed it to me. The man was foggy until we pressed him against the bed, then his eyes widened.

Blanka pulled out the vial and moved forward. The man was weakly fighting against Bjorn.

“Lay.”

The words echoed through my head, like the voice of the divine pressing in on me. It was Blanka’s voice. I blinked back then looked back at her. She had uncorked the vial and was on approach. I saw Bjorn react just as poorly as I had, but the words weren’t meant for us. The man flopped back weakly.

“Open.”

His eyes and mouth held open with the command, he seemed unable to resist. She poured the liquid in his mouth, but then it started to spill out of his mouth as he fought against it. Blanka moved forward and tried to keep him from spitting out the. Bjorn clamped his hand over the man’s mouth. A little of the liquid squirted between his fingers as the man tried to force it out. Bjorn pinched his nose shut as well.

“Good god.” I whispered.

The man’s ears began to point. Hair from his brow began to descend down his forehead and his face began to distort under Bjorn’s hands, who tried in vain to maintain his grip. The brown eyes appeared to glow and settled on a golden hue. Muscles erupted up and down the man’s once doughy frame and hair spread over his body like an infestation. Claws erupted from his fingertips. A deep growl reverberated through the massive chest as the creature proceeded to throw Bjorn into the air. It quickly moved to standing on the bed wearing the straining small clothes. The werewolves’ golden eyes looked between us and snarled.

“Bani?” Bjorn said, and gestured at my hand.

I looked down, recognizing the shotgun, and immediately tossed it to him. The golden eyes turned and looked on Bjorn.

Three shots rang out in quick succession. Two of the silver buckshot rounds burst into the creature, spraying gouts of blood and bone. The hiss of the silver rounds was more visible than heard. The damage was devastating, but the creature didn’t slow.

I pulled my gun and turned back to Blanka.

“Tell Cornel to get the fuck in here!”

One clawed hand slashed Bjorns left shoulder, narrowly missing his neck. It opened its toothy jaw wide and came down on Bjorn’s right shoulder. Bjorn shrugged past it, dropping his shoulder and twisting in place, his wide eyes watching the glistening teeth narrowly miss with a snap.

This left his side vulnerable. The creature instinctively took advantage of it and sunk its claws through layers of Bjorn’s coat and shirt.

Bjorn began to cough blood.

I leveled my Toro and got two shots off. The first sunk into the far wall, but second disappeared in the creature’s shredded torso.

Bjorn’s shotgun went off again, but it was likely he was now out of rounds.

“Cornel is on his way.”

Blanka shouted, moving up beside me, she drew her firearm and planted three bullets into the wolf's face. The first cracked the orbital, the second burst the eyeball, and the third shot caved in the side of its face. It flopped backward on the blood drenched bed with a wet thud, it’s entrails falling away from the last shot from Bjorn’s shotgun. A wicked smell quickly spread as its intestines had burst in the process.

Cornel was through the door, his face lit with horror at the scene.

“Shut the door!”

He stepped back, holding it closed.

“They can’t see this.”

It took mere moments, the curse left the man, his frame reduced and his face smoothed, but you could barely tell through the viscera.

I looked at Bjorn. His bloody teeth were bared and gritting, blood was dripping down his bottom lip. He coughed painfully.

They were pounding on the door. My head was spinning.

“Let them open the door. We have to get out of here.”

Blanka started to concentrate on the bed, but then Bjorn angrily charged her, grabbed her, and dragged her out of the room. I swear I caught a bizarre smile on her face as she was hauled off. I nodded to Cornel and gestured out.

“He attacked us. We need to report this to the church.”

Both his wife and his son were frozen, looking at his scattered remains. We pounded out the door. Trundled down the stairs and moved out onto the street. It was early evening. Long shadows stretched out, ahead of it.

He’d have been closing shop just around this time, taking his earnings to the bank. It was three days ago at exactly this time when he was attacked.

We had just missed our window.

Bjorn was doing his best to keep from leaving a blood trail.

“We have a ways back ta the hotel. There’s no way we can do this without getting spotted.”

“I’ve got this,” Blanka said.

She clapped toward the ground and clapped above her head.

“Follow me, no one can see us.”

We wandered through the streets, giving a wide berth to the citizenry that were either walking on the roads or grouped together and talking on one of the better days we’ve had in recent memory.

We moved up to the hotel and Blanka moved to release her spell.

“We need to be inside the hotel.”

She furrowed her brow and looked at the revolving door.

“Can I leave this and be seen normally?”

“Yes. I think.”

“Follow me to my room. We’ll talk there.”

I walked out of the influence and saw Blanka and the others vanish behind me. I hadn’t seen much of what Blanka could do, but it is both terrifying and impressive. I quickly checked myself to make sure there were no outward signs of our recent struggle. Outward appearances, I was no worse off. Even if I was swimming in my sweat under it all.

I moved toward the door. The revolving doors had regular push doors on either side for larger luggage. I leaned through one of the side doors and then held it open, fiddling with the handle. The woman at the desk gave me a grumpy look. I waited for them to go through, but wasn’t sure how long to wait.

I heard a disembodied hiss with Blanka’s voice on the inside of the hotel lobby. I let go of the door and moved toward my room.

We all spoke for hours. Bjorn washed up and got bandages in place. I let him use the bed while we crafted a new plan. It is imperative that what comes next is executed quickly and precisely.

I’m writing this to let you know that we’re highly visible here. This didn’t go as planned, but it could have been much worse: a man who’d be bitten, changed into a beast and tore apart his family and then assaulted others throughout the neighborhood.

That doesn’t mean that it makes my stomach turn to have murdered an innocent because we didn’t get there in time.

We’ve made clear and lasting impressions wherever we’ve been, unfortunately. And, depending on what happens next with the bloody mess we left behind, we’ll need to stay scarce, yet still actively working to understand the situation with the Cardinal. I don’t intend to kill anyone else, but there are some bad actors embedded in this situation that need to be resolved, and I doubt it’ll happen peacefully. If we can save the Cardinal, we will. Tangling with the church, at any level, deeply concerns me.

I know you’re relying on our best. Let’s hope our best is good enough in this case.