The cold never left the streets of Falkbrook.
Even during spring, fog and mist were more common than blooming flowers — thick, unmoving and never fading. Leandre's hands, slender and pale from the cold, gripped the edges of his coat, pulling it closer with a rough tug as he walked through the cobblestone street of the city. His blonde hair, usually kept neat, now curled at the edges from the damp air.
The sun was slowly setting when he reached the town square. People shuffled through the square, faces worn and eyes dull. Old men and women stood by the stalls, selling dried meat and vegetables, their faces wore the usual tired, unfriendly expressions. Children dug in the ground with sticks, glancing up only when forced by passing feet. Their eyes had stopped glimmering at such a young age and their clothes were more like rags, muddy and with patched holes. Truly a depressing sight. The only truly lively things there were the rats. No longer afraid of humans, they ran between buildings and stalls, stealing anything that fell to the ground.
Nothing caught Leandre's eye — nothing new, nothing worth noting. With no purpose the young man passed by some sellers. The carrots and beets they tried to sell were rather miserable, small and dried out. The man grimaced slightly before turning away, ready to leave empty handed.
A loud cry tore through the air.
There by the fountain a group of people gathered. Leandre could hear whispers, people were covering their mouth as they spoke. Two guards stood there in the middle of the crowd, speaking to a woman.
Leandre by nature was not a nosy person, but once the woman began to wail, his curiosity got the better of him. He moved closer, blending in with the people despite his tailored coat and the faint scent of perfume that marked him apart.
The woman fell to her knees, reaching out to one of the guards, grabbing him by the hand.
"My god! Please tell me this isn't true! My boy — what happened to my boy!?"
Her desperate voice cracked as more tears rolled down her face. The two guards exchanged apologetic looks but they did nothing to console her. The gloved hand, only form of comfort, pulled away from the woman who slowly curled down. Fists went to her chest where her heart was beating rapidly.
"It was an animal. Throat pierced and ripped open. Dogs dragged his body out of the woods."
The man said, but that only made the woman wail harder. Her screams sounded as if her heart were being ripped out by hand. Eyes were closed tightly and tired from tears and her cheeks changed shade to burning red as her nails dug into the skin. Another woman around the same age tried helping her up, but the woman wasn't going to move.
The guards only watched the heartbreaking scene, cold eyes following the shaky shoulders as they moved in an unsteady way as she sobbed.
"Where- where is he- Let me see my son! Let me see him!" She reached out again but this time the man stepped away.
"That's not possible right now. Mrs. Miller, this isn't something for you to see."
She tried to argue, tried to beg them but they wouldn't yield. Tears dropping to the cobblestone road as she cursed out, changed nothing. Her voice eventually died down. Leandre could tell her throat couldn't handle any more of her cries.
The young man slowly backed away, his eyes focused on the men who clearly didn't want to share anything else with such a big crowd. He waited for the people to get about and when they did he approached the guards. Catching up to them he cleared his throat and spoke.
"My good man, could you spare a moment?" He said with a noticeable accent.
Both men turned around to look at him. One was quite tall and muscular, towering over Leandre, his green gambeson had faded from years of wear with iron studs tracing the seams. The other was close to his height but nonetheless also quite well built. The unshaved face only added up to the wrinkled forehead as the man frowned at Leandre. His expression didn't try to hide the obvious irritation.
The men sized him up, and one of them snorted.
"Yes my fine sir~?" The taller one said as his arms crossed on his chest. Leandre's eye twitched at the mocking way he was spoken to but he had to swallow his pride. He cleared his throat before speaking.
"The body — was it really an animal attack?"
"Yes, didn't you hear me, sir?" His voice was cold, not a shred of compassion in his words.
"And the neck — it was the only part of the body with wounds?"
That got him a cold stare. Both guards pierced him with their gaze.
"Yes, my fine sir~. Why are you so damn curious about a corpse, huh?"
The man towered over him, making Leandre take a step back.
"It's just… that doesn't sound like an animal to me." Leandre looked up at the man who seemed to get more irate. The guard leaned down to the same eye level as him.
"And what do you know, Master Silks-and-Perfume? Bet you never even seen a corpse before."
Leandre couldn't allow himself to get intimidated now. He felt that if he even glanced away and broke eye contact, that would be the end of his investigation.
"I assume the boy was drained of blood. The wounds on his neck probably were fang marks, correct? What type of animal only feeds on blood? Not even a bite of flesh missing? Sounds awful lot like a —" Leandre was grabbed by his cravat and roughly pulled closer to the man's face.
"An animal is what it was. A wolf or a damn bear. Stay out of it. This is your only warning, and if I hear you spitting lies on the street, God help me I'll knock your white pearls down your throat." With a shove, the guard pushed Leandre away and straightened his stance. Leandre stumbled back but quickly regained his footing and straightened his coat with annoyed huff.
The brute guard laughed with a raspy voice as they both turned away from the young man and went away without looking back.
It couldn't be any more clear, they knew the truth. The Millers boy was not killed by a wolf or a bear, it was much worse than that. A body drained of blood indicated only to one creature. In that case it would be better not to let the public know what really happened, to keep the peace.
The young man one last time glanced at the guards in the distance before making his way back to the main street.
The last time anyone spoke of a vampire attack was over a year ago, the day Leandre arrived at Falkbrook, or rather, was dragged to Falkbrook. Covered in black vampire blood his exhausted body collapsed on the road to the city. There someone helped him up and brought him behind city walls.
Explaining what had happened was difficult when his mind was going in and out of consciousness.
People who gathered over him shrugged and shook their heads once his words started coming out clear. No one believed his words. No one believed a blood sucking monster attacked him. How clueless could people of this town be? Or did they just fear to admit these things were there, lurking in dark corners, waiting for a chance to drag them away and feed on their blood?
Only one person seemed to be listening carefully to his story. An older man with hair turning silver at the roots whose eyes saw more than an ordinary person. His face was unreadable and focused as he listened among the crowd. The man offered to help him out, to listen fully to his story.
He alone seemed to acknowledge the truth no one else wanted to face.
As Leandre made his way out of the city walls it was already dark. He stepped off the cobblestones and onto the narrow dirt path leading outside city gates toward the cabin. His boots sank into the wet mud with a soft, muffled squelch, the thick earth clinging to each step.
Above, ravens cawed over his head. Their dark eyes curiously gawked at him as he passed by without paying them any mind. He used to be creeped out by the sheer amount of them and how they seemed to observe his every move. Sometimes they followed him all the way from the city to the cabin. Other times they just cawed and observed. With time his mind filtered out the ominous sound of fluttering wings and tuneless singing.
He'd gotten used to this grim place — not fond of it, but it started to feel familiar.
The cabin came into view through the veil of fog. With careful steps Leandre walked up the front porch, wooden stairs creaked as he cursed under his breath. The old wooden door creaked even louder as he went inside.
The inside of the cabin was dim, the air scented with old wood and dried herbs. Deeper inside there was a man sitting by a wooden table. His back leaning on the old chair as his rough hands slowly polished a blade of his dagger. Only a single candle illuminating his face.
Edwin looked up at the younger man.
"You're late, as always."
Edwin's tone was irritated, but not surprised. It wasn't the first time Leandre came back home at such ungodly hour. He shut the door behind himself, the sound of the latch snapping into place loud in the silence.
"I didn't want to worry you. The path's worse than yesterday."
The older man turned his head towards Leandre from his seat. Silver hair caught faint light from the candle, his eyes looked sharp before softening momentarily.
Edwin watched as Leandre hung his coat by the door, muddy shoes were kicked off nearby as the younger man stepped closer, barefoot.
"A body was found today. The guards didn't say much but from what I heard it was drained of blood, with wounds on the throat."
Edwin's eyes squinted, his body straightening slightly.
"Oh? and did they figure out what did it?"
"All they said was that it must have been a wolf or a bear."
Edwin scoffed, finger ran over the freshly polished blade.
"Aye, and pigs fly. I assume the guards didn't want to start a mass panic, but rumors spread fast and people talk. The town folks ain't dumb, they know an animal wouldn't only drink blood from the body."
Edwin let out a slow breath, running a hand over his face as if trying to wipe the thought of it all away.
"If the guards let them believe every single time it's a bear killing their people, someone will try tracking it down and in result get killed too."
Leandre only nodded in agreement. Edwin was right. How long would it take before angered people went out in the woods with the idea of killing an animal but instead were faced with a blood sucking monster?
"We could- track it. End it before it kills again and-"
Edwin stopped him before he could finish the sentence.
"No boy. You are not ready to go in there and fight a vampire. I would have to drag your corpse back here, that is if I even found it." He said, completely serious.
"This forest gets thicker and darker the further you go. A perfect place for a leech to wait for its prey."
Leandre's jaw clenched, his shoulders tensing as if resisting the weight of Edwin's words. He felt dismissed… it stung.
"I've trained, I've studied—"
"Yes. But you're not ready either. Studying is not enough. Even the weakest of their kind is a great danger to us, a small mistake could cost you your life, or worse"
Leandre snorted, his eyes moving away from Edwin's sharp glare.
"I've killed one before."
"I remember. It was the day the city guards found you collapsed near the gates. Pale as bone, exhausted and soaked in vampire blood. You survived it. That's not the same."
Leandre's eye twitched, his hands curling into fists. He couldn't argue with that. He was weak and only luck saved him that day. The bloodthirsty beast that attacked him seemed out of control, as if it hadn't had a meal in months and was starving. Its eyes were a soft pink color instead of the crimson red that would be expected, indicating it didn't feed for a long time. If not for his good reflex the thing would surely end him.
It was clear that Edwin doesn't see him fit for vampire hunting, but then why did he take Leandre under his wings? Did he see anything in him? Or rather was it pity after hearing the reason why Leandre traveled so far from his homeland.
"You will avenge your brother… but you need to be alive to do so, boy."
The young man looked up at Edwin, his expression softening slightly as resignation settled in.
"When will it be? When I turn grey and wrinkly? Unable to hold a sword with one hand? If not now then when will it be a good time to start hunting?"
Edwin frowned, his expression turning sour. The older man sighed, his hand went up to massage his nose bridge, eyes closed tightly, like he was battling with his inner self over what was the better choice.
"So damn stubborn, just like a donkey. You will regret not listening to me one day, but by all means, do as you please."
"So you agree then? You'll take me along —"
"Yes, but there will be no patting on the back. If you don't prove yourself, that will be the last time I hear you yapping about hunting… until I myself decide you are ready."
Leandre bit the inside of his cheeks, his eyes widening just so slightly. The excitement in his eyes would be taken as stupidity by a normal townsfolk, but to him? This was everything. One step forward to fulfilling his goal.
"Thank you," he murmured, more to himself than Edwin, the words barely escaping his lips.
Edwin raised an eyebrow. "Don't thank me yet."
A low creaking sound could be heard from upstairs followed by soft footsteps. Both men looked up before their eyes returned to each other.
Edwin picked the candle holder and moved closer.
"Go now. I need to secure the doors and windows. And be quiet, Mira woke up."
Without sparing a glance to the younger man, Edwin went to the door. Leandre's faint steps could be heard as he made his way upstairs to his bedroom. Wooden stairs creaked faintly under his weight.
Outside, the fog pressed up against the glass window, blocking the view almost completely. The distant trees and the path, completely swallowed by it. A faint thud broke the silence, the sound of wings of a moth could be heard as it hit against the window, drawn to the flickering candlelight inside.
Edwin stood still, watching it for a moment. He knitted his eyebrows in a frown. His scarred hand drew the heavy curtains closed before he blew out the candle and headed to his own room.