Guardian Angel Agency

[DracoMalfoy]

The awkward silence filling the air was nothing less than unbearable. Arthur had resorted to fiddling with the radio to occupy his attention on something other than the situation at hand. With one eye on the road, he fooled around the stations; the silence had become so overwhelming that he’d even attempted to break it by asking her if she had a preference. She didn’t. Just his luck. Truthfully, Arthur wasn’t sure how tonight would end. On paper, it sounded simple, brilliant really. They were sending a former detective, and his new partner, on a dead body pick up and investigation. It was his specialty.

What wasn’t his specialty was the brunette sitting in the passenger seat beside him. Khira Blake was his newest partner in crime, after his first assistant as he referred to them, hadn’t made it back from a case. Arthur was already questioning what she could do, what she was worth, but it wasn’t proper to throw those inquiries out in the open. Still, he would’ve much preferred this assignment alone. He was convinced she’d slow him down and her hesitance to say anything was proving his point, at least to him.

The road they were on had gone from littered in traffic, cars as far as the eye could see, to an empty mountainside street. Dead bodies always turned up in the woods; as a supernatural investigator, Arthur had quickly come to learn that something, not someone, was typically responsible; the woods had become a favorite place for a vampire or a werewolf to drop their dead weight. With any luck, they’d catch who they were looking for returning to the scene and be done before midnight.

The woods grew bigger in the corner of his eye and Arthur quickly spotted a small dirt road leading in. Without much warning to Khira -hopefully she was buckled up- he turned jerkily to the side of the road; Arthur had never been the best driver, sue him. He brought the car to a stop, pulled the keys out and opened his door. “We’re walking from here,” he said, finally shattering the awkward silence. It seemed much easier to speak to her when it was just business. “We’re probably getting dirty; think you can handle that?” That comment hadn’t been necessary, but Arthur found the need to slip it in.

He moved towards the trunk, pulling it open and scanning the equipment he always kept packed up for good measure. Everyone at the agency claimed he was always over prepared; he thought there was no such thing. He stroked his chin softly, deep in thought about what to bring with them. They had no idea what the story was and what creature was responsible. It’d be an unfortunate case to prepare for a wolf and finding a bloodsucker instead. With a shrug, he decided better safe than sorry. Flashlights, of course, two pistols, a case of wooden, and silver bullets, and a couple of stakes. That’d do it. If they were outgunned, Arthur had confidence in his ability to get back to the car without dying. Khira? Not so much.

Without warning her, Arthur tossed her the second pistol. She’d probably need it more than he did. “Hope you know how to shoot,” he said; his eyes were focused more on the woods instead of her. Then he tossed her the second flashlight. “And I’ll cry if you don’t know how to us that,” he added. The sun was finishing setting; it’d be pitch black in thirty minutes at the most. And the woods at night was a very bad combination. But, it was their job after all. “Come on, then.”

Arthur took the lead, as the older, more experienced member of the duo, he assumed it’d be best for him to do so. His eyes were glued to the ground, only looking up when an animal made a sound or a twig snapped. He was probably too paranoid for his own good, but the job made him antsy. At least he wasn’t dead yet. They hadn’t been given much information on where this body was, just that it was out here and they needed to cover it up before the news got their hands on the story. Just thinking about it made Arthur feel somewhat guilty. Hiding the truth, lying to the family who’d lost a loved one, it wasn’t easy. But years of practice breaded excellence. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder how Khira would take it. Arthur wasn’t sure if this was her first night on the job or just her first night with him. He’d figure that out sooner or later.

He turned on the flashlight, the complete loss of the sun requiring its assistance. Again, the awkward silence was floating in between them. He hated it. He’d never been a master at socialization, but, this was ridiculous. The partners he’d had in the past were at least a bit more talkative. He shook his head, trying to keep his mind on the task at hand. Find this body, find out who did it and get out.

Moving his wrist back and forth, his flashlight danced around the ground looking for a sign. Something, anything they could use to start a trail. Then he found it. A foot and a bit of a leg sticking out of a large shrub. Someone had tried to hide the body and hadn’t done as good a job as they thought. “There,” he said out loud, pointing to the shrub that hid the body. “Guess we’re getting to work.”

He moved towards the shrub and got down on his knees. It violated a long list of rules he’d memorized as an officer, but he reminded himself how necessary it was as he grabbed the foot and began to pull, revealing the body from its hiding place. Arthur resisted the urge to wince; years of doing cases like this and seeing dead people still made him woozy. It was a woman, relatively young and the murder had been far less than clean. She looked drained of most, if not all, her blood and if she’d been beaten and broken badly.

“I’m gonna guess there’s not a lot of blood in her, that puts our two main suspects on the ballot,” he said as he shined the flashlight on the dead body. “But wolves tend to do more damage, so I’m thinking we’re dealing with a bloodsucker.” He turned his head over his shoulder to look at his partner and raised his eyebrow. “Thoughts?”

[Syrena]

The sunlight was a bitch.

Khira pushed her sunglasses back up her nose. The black frames were large and stylish. But the sunglasses didn’t fit quite right and the brown lenses were dirt cheap. Dollar store sunglasses weren’t much protection from sunlight. Or anything else. She was never going to shoplift anything from the dollar store again. Shoplifting designer clothing and accessories was the better choice, the smarter choice.

Khira squeezed her eyes shut as the car turned directly into the fading sunlight. The golden light was warm against her skin. She felt beads of sweat gather at the back of her neck. Her cheeks flushed pink with heat. Khira imagined her pale skin slowly turning into flakes of ash.

Suddenly uncomfortable, Khira shifted in her seat. A second later, the car abruptly turned out of the sunlight. She felt better instantly. The shade from the giant forest trees was refreshing. Khira glanced at the clock on the car’s dashboard. It was just after six. Another thirty minutes—maybe an hour—and the sun wouldn’t be a problem.

The car skidded to a stop on a narrow, dirt road. Khira waited until her new partner, Arthur, climbed out of the car before carefully untangling herself from her seatbelt. Like an obedient puppy, she followed Arthur to the trunk of his car.

Her face contorted into an expression of surprise when Arthur popped the trunk. She’d heard the rumors floating around the agency during her training. Arthur was the over-prepared type; the kind of man who likely had a bomb shelter in a remote location as well as a survival plan for zombie infestations.

Khira swallowed and pushed her sunglasses on top of her head. Between the agency rumors and the arsenal of weapons and first aid supplies in Arthur’s car trunk—she wasn’t sure what to think. Although, she was pretty sure Arthur didn’t like her; especially since he wasn’t willing to stand near her.

He tossed her a pistol without warning. “Hope you know how to shoot.”

She caught the pistol.

“Are you always such an asshole?” Khira smiled sweetly. If Arthur didn’t like her, then she wasn’t going to like him. She tucked the pistol into the waistband of her pants. It was a snug fit; the gun was cold and dug uncomfortably into her back.

He threw a flashlight at her next. “And I’ll cry if you don’t know how to use that.”

Khira barely caught the flashlight and didn’t dignify Arthur with a remark about flashlight competency. She flicked the flashlight on. The beam of artificial light was weak, even in the shade of the forest, but soon the entire area would be pitch black.

“Come on, then.”

She frowned at Arthur’s back. She wasn’t eager to walk into a forest; navigating nature wasn’t one of her strengths. Picking her way through forest trails at night hadn’t been part of her training either. And a near lifetime of cat burglar dexterity only went so far. The last thing she wanted was to trip over a tree branch or rock.

Khira followed Arthur’s shadowy form deeper into the forest.

The snapping twigs and the sudden movements of small animals didn’t bug her. She wrote the noises off. But Arthur responded to every noise; the muscles in his back and neck were tense. A small, morbid part of her wondered if Arthur ever lost a partner to a late night, forest ambush.

Arthur stopped and Khira almost ran into him. She watched as he shifted his flashlight this way and that. He found what he was looking for. Arthur sprinted a few paces ahead of her and knelt down the ground. Slowly, Khira followed him.

She felt uneasy. Afraid. Dead bodies weren’t her specialty; they would never be her specialty. But something was suddenly different about the forest. There weren’t any more snapping twigs from rabbits and deer walking through the shadows, and she couldn’t hear the hoots of owls.

“Hey,” Khira licked her lips. She wasn’t sure what to say about the sudden change in atmosphere. She wasn’t even sure the change in atmosphere was real. “Never mind.”

Khira peeked over Arthur’s shoulder.

The body of a young woman was sprawled in the bushes. Her facial features were sharp; she was attractive once. The dead woman’s blonde hair was tangled. But chunks of her hair were missing. The woman’s skin was a motley mess of purple and green. Her limbs lay at impossible angles. And every wrinkle, every crease in the woman’s skin was sunken as if all the blood in her body was gone.

Khira doubled over, retching.

She spat warm spittle onto the ground. Nothing else came up. Closing her eyes, Khira rocked back on her heels and slowly counted to ten. When she opened her eyes again, she felt better. Everything was under control. She walked away from Arthur and the dead woman. Absently, she shined her flashlight at the surrounding trees.

“Most vampires,” she couldn’t bring herself to use the slang term, “keep a couple of living blood banks.”

Or, at least, the vampires she’d meet had kept living blood banks. Hundreds of young men and women were willing to trade blood for cash or drugs. Once, she’d been eager to trade blood for cash and drugs. “And it seems a little inelegant, messy.”

“But a wolf?” Khira shrugged. Arthur was right. Wolves tended to do way more damage to their victims. “A wolf could’ve killed her right before transforming.” The murder was violent enough not to disregard the possibility; even though such a possibility seemed unlikely.

Khira circled back towards Arthur. Her flashlight still pointed at the trees. She didn’t want to look at the dead woman again. She didn’t even care if she tripped over a tree branch or rock as she fumbled around in the dark. Abruptly, one of the trees caught her interest.

She walked towards the tree. Her flashlight illuminated the tree trunk. There was a carving—a witch rune—cut into the bark. The spell was still active. Khira blinked. Her unease intensified. Slowly, she started walking back towards Arthur and the dead woman.

Khira sank down onto the ground next to her Arthur. Something was very wrong. She started to search the woman for jewelry. A ring or a necklace. Most witches had a piece of jewelry that connected them to a larger group. The woman didn’t have anything.

But the witch rune on the tree… She shined the flashlight on the ground. A flicker of gold caught her interest. Khira dug through the dirt and leaves until she found the ring. The gold band was speckled with blood and surprisingly simple. Khira turned back to Arthur and gave him the ring.

“She’s a witch.” Khira bit her lip. Nervous energy made her rock back and forth. “She cast a spell; it’s still active.”

[DracoMalfoy]

“Are you always such an asshole?”

He was going to ignore that. He expelled it from his mind and refrained from replying. Arthur knew full well how rude his behavior came off as and it was fully intentional. Not that he was unkind or uncaring, but forced partnerships were low on his list of favorite things. Instead of stooping to her level and engaging in some heated argument without thesis or ending, he'd continued on, tensing every time she or him snapped a twig on the forest floor. Call him tense, he'd agree. Arthur never relaxed while on the job. Lowering your guard in a dark forest was the quickest way to get killed. That was horror movie 101; he hoped Khira knew at least that much.

The dead was capturing all of his attention. He was curious, to say the least. Who was she? Why was she out here? Too many questions, not enough answers. He'd tuned Khira out as she walked about and avoided gazing at the wrecked corpse. "Wimp," he thought sarcastically. He rolled his eyes, taking comfort in his own sanity. At least he could handle this.

Arthur had his eyes practically glued to the corpse. There had to be something, anything that could give a clue away. There was always something. He scratched his chin and bit his lower lip, deep in thought. His crouching position over the body was beginning to feel awkward; he adjusted, casually rolling on the balls of his feet for a few moments before settling down.

When Khira spoke again, he turned his head over his shoulder. She had to have some sort of insightful opinion. Then she dismissed before even sharing. That was annoying. Arthur tried his best not to show it - he and her had started off on the wrong foot, obviously - but, his slight irritation still had a prominent presence on his face. But could you blame him?

"Okay," he started with a shrug of his broad shoulders. He turned his head back around to examine the body for a third time. He wasn't getting anywhere, but he couldn't peal his eyes away from it.

Khira was speaking again and the immature child living inside of him was annoyed. Then, he stopped to listen to her point and had to admit it was valid. It didn't bring them any closer to the conclusion they needed, but it was a decent observation. Vampires kept their victims alive for blood. Either this woman had served her purpose, or she'd been killed by someone, or something, else.

"Good point. Unless we're dealing with a vampire pimp, that might rule them out as a possible suspect," Arthur replied. He considered stopping to praise her on the good observation, but decided against it. He was far too stubborn for that. Still, this scenario didn't sit right with him. It looked too clean, or light was probably the better word, to be a werewolf. But what else could be involved? That was the million dollar question.

He let her kneel down next to him, awkwardly shifting a few inches to the side to allow her some space. Arthur watched her curiously and was about to vocalize his objection to actually touching the body - a huge forensic no-no - but then he saw what she was actually going for. The piece of jewelry, somewhat hidden from view. How had he missed that? He felt stupid that Khira had found it and he hadn't. But pride couldn't get in the way of the case.

"A witch, huh?" That introduced a new development. What would a witch be doing out here? Arthur brought himself to his feet and he walked to the tree Khira had examined just a few moments earlier. He shined his flashlight over it and narrowed his eyes at the rune. So she had been on to something earlier. This whole case was starting to feel more like a slap to his face. How was she upstaging him already? It was irritating.

Arthur turned away and came back towards the body and his partner. The question was, who would kill a witch, and why? Witches weren't pushovers. Most vampires and werewolves kept their distance. Nature's abominations weren't big fans of nature's law enforcers.

"Well, we've got our evidence to nab her as a witch," he said with a nod of his head. "Any idea what active spell we have on our hands? If we figure that out, we might have a pretty simple case. Looks like someone didn't want this spell up and running and got a bit too pissed when the witch put it up."

Arthur hated to admit it, but witches were a bit of a fuzzy area for him. He knew more than he should about werewolves and facts of vampires were child's play to him. But witches and magic was a whole other ball game. He started to pace back and forth around the small area. It was how he got the blood flowing to his brain. There had to be something, some common denominator that pulled this case together. He just couldn't think of it.

"A protective spell? A curse?" He was half thinking out loud, half expecting a response from Khira. Arthur didn't know exactly how his mind was working. All he knew was that it was drawing an exceptionally annoying blank. "Werewolves are really only a problem on full moon's; vampires are a nightly thing. Could she have been hiding from one? I'm sort of stumped here."

He hated admitting it, especially to a newbie. But, he was at a loss and they needed to get somewhere with this case; Khira seemed to be on the ball, more so than Arthur thought she'd be. He could always bandage his ego later.

[Syrena]

Khira scrambled away from the body as soon as Arthur stood up. The dead woman scared her shitless; the broken, bloody limbs looked like something out of a horror movie. Twigs and leaves crunched underneath her feet as she fled back to the witch rune.

She held her flashlight up to the rune. The carving was extravagant. Beautifully elaborate. Khira reached out and carefully traced the perimeter of the rune. She could feel magic pulsing in the tree bark. The magic sizzled and Khira yanked her hand away. Something about the rune sent a jolt of adrenaline down her spine as the little hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

Khira frowned. She turned back to the dead body, shining her flashlight at the broken limbs. The dead woman was an amazing witch. Magic was still pouring out of the rune despite the caster’s death. Khira bit her lip and flicked her flashlight away from the dead woman.

“Pimping out a witch? Yeah right.” Khira reached into her back, jean pocket and pulled out her phone. She didn’t have a signal, but she had enough battery power left to use the camera function. Checking to make sure the flash was on, Khira took a couple of snap shots of the rune. Even with the help of her flashlight and the phone’s flash feature, the images still looked grainy. “No one screws with a witch.”

She took one last photo of the rune and stuffed her phone back into her pocket. Casually, she shined her flashlight at Arthur. There was nothing comforting about her partner. He looked irritated. Pissed off. Khira bit her lip suddenly hesitant to expand on any theories involving the dead woman or her possible attackers. But she wasn’t eager for awkward silence either.

“This witch,” she paused, swallowed, and continued, “This witch is incredible.” Khira looked away from Arthur. She shined the flashlight at random spots of ground. There wasn’t much to see in the dark with a flashlight. “Her spell is active despite her death. And her rune is… Insane.” She shook her head. “So many different symbols are superimposed. I only recognize parts of this thing.”

Khira walked over to her partner. Arthur was back by the body. Khira made a point of not looking at the dead woman. She stared at Arthur’s right shoulder instead. “I’m not sure if I can read the rune. It’s too complicated. I’m not even sure if the basics are the basics with this thing.” Inadequacy gripped her as she admitted to not being able to read the witch’s spell. “Sorry. I’m no witch. But I’ve got a friend who can probably read this thing. Recreate it, too, maybe.”

“My best guess at the rune is some sort of protection spell, though.” She shrugged and rubbed the palms of her hands over her arms. The forest air was crisp, but was turning cold without the sun. Standing by Arthur didn’t provide much body heat; she wasn’t standing close enough to leech heat. “That’s really just an assumption. Probably a poor one.”

She lapsed into silence; she didn’t have anything else to say. Basic knowledge about witches and magic were all she had to contribute. The specifics about werewolf and vampire wounds were over her head. She trusted Arthur’s knowledge on the subject.

“Wait,” Khira chewed on her bottom lip. “The rune… Whoever—whatever—screwed with this woman didn’t just walk away.” She grabbed Arthur’s wrist to get his attention. “There’s a good chance part of her attacker is still here.” Khira looked around at the dark outline of trees before letting go of Arthur’s wrist and stepping back. The impact of her conclusion slowly hit her. “Oh, god, um—I don’t really know.”

She let her train of thought go. The possibility of something lurking in the shadows was more than she could handle. She wanted to go back to the car and head into the city. The hands-on portion of this job was too much, and the idea of desk work was appealing. But a very small part of her was curious about the dead woman and whatever was stupid enough to tangle with a powerful witch.

[DracoMalfoy]

Arthur kept running the facts in his head, trying to get something new to pop up; he was hoping maybe the conclusion would appear out of thin air. Of course, he was never that fortunate. His wrist was unconsciously flicking his flashlight back and forth between the corpse and the rune. The connection was there, they, primarily Khira, had made that. The who, what, and why were all still missing pieces though.

He had his free hand resting on his hip; he bit his lower lip with his teeth. There were very few people dumb enough to get in a beef with a witch. They typically trumped all other common creatures. Arthur himself didn't like getting tangled up in witch cases. So who would pit themselves against this witch? And why? "The rune's advanced," he commented, nodding his head in agreement. He walked towards it, for the hundredth time and looked closely at it. He feared Khira could make out more of it than him. "We know this witch knew what she was doing. So, the question is, what had enough brawn to take her down?" That did seem to be the million dollar question.

Even with all that they knew now by just examining the scene, they were still barely past square one. Arthur took a few slow steps back towards the corpse, somewhat hoping it'd pop up back to life and tell them everything they needed to know. For someone so logical, he fantasized a bit too much for his liking. He glanced towards his partner, raising a curious eyebrow. She knew a friend? Arthur still had yet to warm up to Khira, but, he had to admit, she was providing all the useful leads tonight.

"Your friend might be a good a place to start as any," he noted out loud. Arthur smiled at her, silently thanking her for her help. It came off as awkward, him never been a friendly, warm guy. As soon the small grin popped up on his face, it was gone, the discomfort it brought too overwhelming for the investigator. She'd taken a picture of the rune, all they needed was the body. If this friend of Khira's was going to need everything they could provide; they couldn't afford to leave any end loose.

When Khira spoke again, Arthur fought the urge to sigh. Crime scene investigating 101 was that the culprit never was far off. For whatever reason; perhaps they're rendered unable to make a real escape, perhaps they left too much evidence behind or maybe they just want to gloat over their handiwork. Arthur had a hunch that they weren't alone the second they showed up. It was like that with every case.

He tensed, feeling her hand on his wrist. At first, he went to shake it off, but stopped mid movement. He had to remember this was her first night; she'd been a good help so far, maybe he had to be a little more patient with her. Arthur straightened his posture and gave her a side glance. "Rule one of this job is that something is almost always lurking in the shadows," he said, as if he were reciting an actual handbook. They practically lived a horror movie every day; justified paranoia had become second nature to Arthur.

If something was out there, they weren't going to face it. Not until they knew more. They had weapons, Arthur always overstocked, but they were alone out here and were unfortunately limited on knowledge. He stepped away from Khira and towards the body. With a sigh, he placed his flashlight in his pocket and lifted the corpse up bridal style.

"This is against every police ethic, but we're going to need everything to show this friend of yours," he defended himself immediately, knowing the odd action would probably gross Khira out. If the witch was powerful, perhaps she could be identified by someone who knew more about magic than they did; it definitely didn't hurt to try.

"Let's hurry up and go see this friend of yours," he continued. "If we can wise up a bit more, we can come back, get whatever's out here and close this case." Adjusting the weight of the body in his arms, he began moving forward the way they came towards the car.

[Syrena]

She heard the dismissal in Arthur's voice as she turned to look at the witch rune. Again. The carving was captivating—addicting; she felt pulled toward the spell—and, now, she was afraid of the magic pulsing in the dead witch's spell.

Khira flicked a quick look at the witch's broken body. The woman's limbs were shadowy in the dark. Even the blonde hair and bright, blood stained clothing were splotches of dark shadows. Staring at the body in the dark was almost, almost, easy.

But her gut still twisted painfully at the shadowy patchwork of the dead witch's body. And at the thought of something creeping unseen in the forest. Watching. Waiting. Biting her lip, Khira put her hands on her hips and turned to glare at Arthur.

“That isn't what—”

She huffed, rolling her eyes. Arthur wasn't paying attention. He was walking back towards the body. Khira marched forward several steps in a fit of frustration. Arthur's blatant dismissal was starting to sting. She wasn't a ditzy school girl to smile at and then ignore.

“Hey!”

Khira stomped her foot on the ground. A couple of twigs snapped under the sole of her shoe. Frustration still danced in her nerves.

Arthur sighed. She could hear the annoyance dripping off the breathy noise. His shoulders were tight, too, like he was trying to refrain from saying something insulting. Khira watched, silently, as Arthur knelt down in front of the dead witch.

He kept going back to the dead witch. Like she kept going back to the rune. Briefly, she wondered if Arthur saw more in the broken limbs and blood stains than he said. She was suddenly desperate to know if he would keep her in the dark. Khira shook her head and tucked a clump of her hair behind her ear.

The dark forest and witch rune were making her moody. She wanted to go home. Now.

“Can we just go, then?” Khira asked as she started to inch towards the direction of the car. She kept her eyes on Arthur; she didn't want to walk back to the car and realize Arthur was still with the dead witch.

Arthur stood up.

Khira started to turn around, muttering a “thank god” under her breath. But she stopped; she stopped moving and she stopped breathing. It took several minutes of wide-eyed staring to register—to comprehend—what she was seeing.

“You—you're out of your fucking mind.” She stuttered and took a step back. Her back slammed into the trunk of a tree. The tree bark dug into her back. Khira didn't notice. The dead witch in Arthur's arms was all she saw.

The broken body hung limply in his arms. The witch's head wasn't nestled against Arthur's shoulder. So, the witch's neck dangled long and taunt, exposed to the open sky. Khira kept picturing someone dragging a knife across the dead woman's throat.

She shuddered. “There is no way—absolutely not—that—no!”

Khira turned and stumbled towards the car. Then, thinking better of making a run towards the car, she turned back to her partner. She took a deep breath. “It—she—is not riding in the backseat. At all.” Forcing articulate sentences out of her mouth was getting harder and harder. “The trunk. You can stuff her in the trunk.”

[DracoMalfoy]

Of course that would be her reaction; Arthur wasn't sure why he assumed differently, even if for just a moment. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Okay, truthfully, he did know his methods were outside the box. And, his years of police training were screaming at him to put the witch down immediately. But, he was low on options.

He and Khira were both clueless, pride couldn't hide that. Khira had a witch friend that apparently knew more than they did. The rune was powerful and the killer hadn't left any evidence or clues towards a motive. This was a case already beyond him. They needed assistance.

"I'm out of options here," he said. Still on the defensive. Arthur understood why Khira was against a dead body in the car, but, another solution hadn't presented itself. And yes, part of him was a bit gleeful that he was psyching her out. Call him cruel.

The witch's body was heavy in his arms. That, combined with the overwhelming scent of death and decay, he wasn't sure how long he'd be able to hold the corpse. They needed her in the trunk. The longer they stood around, waiting, talking, complaining, the longer who, or whatever was out there had to make their escape.

Arthur started back on the path of the car. Every time his feet snapped a twig, he paused and listened. Call him paranoid, but whatever did this was out there and, it could attack them at any moment. Arthur kept throwing his head over his shoulder, double checking that Khira was behind him and that she hadn't been snatched from under him.

"Just so you know, what killed her is probably watching us," he said it out loud, at a raised volume. If the killer was a person with some conscious sense, Arthur wanted him, or her, to know he was aware of their presence. Maybe they weren't right in the bushes next to them, but they were out there. Arthur was at a disadvantage; he couldn't defend himself with a witch's corpse in his arms. But, that's why Khira was here. If the killer decided to pounce, he prayed to God that she knew how to fight.

He'd spent a few years on the force, tracking crooks, profiling, all kinds of things. The fact that his skills were almost all rendered useless was annoying. Arthur had no clue on who this witch friend Khira was speaking of was and he hated blindly placing trust in strangers; it was asking to be screwed over.

The duo began peaking out of the forest, his car finally coming into view. "So, what can you tell me about this witch friend we're visiting?" he asked. Might as well strike up some conversation now.

"You think she knows anything?" The better question on his mind was whether or not she'd be willing to help. Witches were...tricky, at least in his experience. He'd rather make a deal with a vampire or a wolf over a witch; they had a way of coming back to bite.

Arthur was going to speak again, but a sound stopped him in his tracks. He turned around, wondering immediately if Khira had made the noise. The look she gave him proved him wrong. Was this their infamous killer? "Be ready," he mouthed the warming to her, this time, not wanting to alert the lurking predator.

The car rested just a few yards away. He contemplated bee lining for the trunk and placing the corpse inside so he'd be ready to fight. But turning their backs might be just what the killer wanted. For once, Arthur felt vulnerable, like a sitting duck. He began to inch backwards, not daring to turn his eyes away from the woods.

Another sound. His heart was picking up the pace. Whatever it was, it was out there, coming closer and they had no idea what it was or why it had an interest in attacking the witch. If this wasn't a dangerous situation, Arthur didn't know what was.

[Syrena]

She spluttered.  Choked.

Arthur was already walking away.  His steps were slow and awkward.  The dead witch a heavy weight in his arms.  He stopped every few paces and shifted the witch’s weight.  Her body rolled stiffly in his arms, and a blood-splotched shoe fell off her right foot.

The shoe hit a pile of dead leaves.  Arthur grunted and the dead leaves hissed.  Khira swallowed and leaned against the tree.  She wasn’t sure she could walk.  She couldn’t think.  And she didn’t want to bother with either.

Flickering light caught her attention.  The glow from Arthur’s flashlight was fading.  He was disappearing down the hill.  

Khira pushed away from the tree.  She stumbled.  Her legs felt like Jell-O.  Twigs snapped under the sole of her shoe.  And the light from her flashlight illuminated clumps of foliage at odd angels.  Jagged, dark shadows stretched into the forest.

She caught up with Arthur.  There was a funny hitch in his breathing.  The weight of the dead witch was starting to take a toll.  Khira did not offer to help.  She trailed a few steps behind Arthur instead.  Distance was a good thing; a wonderful thing.

Khira wrapped her arms around herself.  Arthur kept stopping and looking back at her.  She didn’t like the tight, unyielding expression on his face.  It was unnerving.  Khira licked her lips and tucked some of her hair behind her left ear, “Um…”

Arthur was walking again.  The funny hitch in his breathing started to turn into a deep pant.  “Just so you know,” his voice sounded odd; uneven and ragged around the edges.  “What killed her is probably watching us.”

“You fucking bastard!”  Khira squeaked.

She was shaking.  Breathing felt difficult.  She rubbed the palms of her hands against her jacket as her skin prickled into tiny goose bumps.  Reluctantly, she drew closer to Arthur and the dead witch.  But she stayed just out of arm’s reach.

Arthur turned, looking back at her again.  Khira through she heard him sigh.  Then, “So, what can you tell me about this witch friend we’re visiting?”  It was a change of topic.  “You think she knows anything?”

“Oh,” Khira gave a weak smile.  She was grateful for the change of topic.  “My friend definitely knows something.”

Arthur was walking forward again.  The strain in his breathing was growing.  Khira didn’t think he would say anything else.  But he turned around just as the car came into view.  He licked his lips.  Something crunched in the darkness.  The nose stole whatever Arthur was going to say.

“Be ready.”  Arthur mouthed in warning and slowly started to inch backward.

Khira swallowed.  Hard.  Cold sweat trickled down her spine as she watched Arthur move away.  But she couldn’t follow him.  She was too afraid.  “Please don’t leave me.”  Her voice cracked.  Desperation made her incoherent.  “Please.  Oh my god.  Please.  I can’t—”

Crunch.

She jerked backward instinctively.  Heat suddenly wrapped around her and the smell of rotten meat filled her nose.  Khira stopped breathing.  Something was behind her.  Adrenaline flushed her nervous system but she still couldn’t move.

A gusty puff of humid air hit the back of her neck.  Long, lean fingers tangled themselves in her hair, pulling her head back, exposing her neck.  She felt claws on her shoulders, against her neck.  Claws traced a slow line down her neck to her ribs.

Khira flinched.  Gasped.  Claws twisted into her side.  She could smell blood before she felt pain.  Her knees buckled.  She thrashed, sobbing.  The claws twisted deeper into her skin and hit her rib bones.  Khira squeezed her eyes shut.  

“God…  S-stop.  Please.  P-please.  Stop.”  She shrieked, begged.  The smell of rotten meat and blood was overwhelming.  Khira gagged.  Spittle dripped down her chin and nausea made her dizzy.  “Please.  Make it stop.”

Warm air gently brushed her cheeks.  Once, twice.  “So fragile. Bones like twigs.”

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