A/N: It's been so long, and I never thought I'd return to this. To be honest, I was toying with the idea of abandoning it. I was stuck with the first-half of this chapter, with no idea where to go. (Talk about poor planning on my part).

So what made me pick this up again?

Well, I guess you can thank Bram Stoker and his literary genius for lighting my inspiration for this fic anew. I just finished rereading Dracula and oh boy… I remembered I had this.

There will be some parts of this chapter that will probably not make sense right now, but that's only because the explanations will happen further down the road.

This AN's getting pretty long, but I want to thank Kennaka0813, netherdragon1, Alcantis, and woo tanin for leaving kind reviews on the chapter I put out last year. (I'm really sorry TT_TT) Thank you, everyone, for following and putting this in your favorites.

~Until next time.

Chapter 5: A Deal With Death

He hated the Mayor. Detested the fool and his overbearing ways. Gottwald maybe beloved by these townspeople, but the smarmy bastard lacked the backbone that made the Augsburg's Sheriff undisputed. What had the man been thinking?

To contract the Black Knights… If hundreds of years wasn't enough to reveal the monster lurking in their town's midst, then what made Gottwald think that a pair of foreign hunters could succeed? A few of their ancestors came close before. Hell, his own great grandfather had lived to divulge some of the mysteries that surrounded this predator — however ambiguous the recounting had been.

And there was the more recent one…

A shaking leaf of a youth hurriedly confessed to attempting to sexually harass the witch, only to be stopped by what he believed to be their resident monster.

Human in appearance with eyes the color of flaming coals. Deathly white skin that had the chill of the departed. And…sharpened teeth (or was it canines) that gleamed dangerously underneath the starlight.

Such strange and outlandish claims. Almost as if it was a figment of a man's wild imagination after he'd snorted more than his fair share of opium.

But it was a testimony from a first account, nevertheless.

It was vital information that those Black Knights would never uncover. Over his dead body, that is.

With this surefire victory in mind, Sheriff Calares haughtily threw an object atop his wooden table, startling the three other "guests" gathered in his humble wooden lodge. Hounds slobbered over the rawhide strewn across the stone floors as their masters greedily took handfuls of silver that spilled from the open pouch. One of them bit at the metal to test the currency's ingenuity.

"Seventy silver pieces. The rest when you've found this beast and brought its head to me." Calares sneered maliciously.

"Sounds good." Satisfied, one of the men nodded once. Luciano Bradley, was it? "We search for a trail in the morning."

"Do you want the other forty pieces or not?"

Wary and gaunt faces ranged from worry to one's that held solid resolve.

"This matter needs a closer look. It will take more than running into the woods to catch this thing, if it's evaded us and our people for centuries." The severe-looking man, Bismarck Waldstein tried to reason despite the ever-souring expression on the infamous Sheriff's face.

"If you two are too afraid to hunt it down, then I will." Mao interjected before Calares could butt in again. The exclamation earned him an approving glance from the Sheriff.

This was his type of man for the job. Ambitious, fearless, and dauntless. But all that didn't really matter to him, so long as these three returned carrying a beast's head or other.

Some form of evidence they could use and raise above the Mayor's head, just to prove that they didn't need the Black Knights. And after this monster was dealt with, perhaps they'd establish a case to prove that stupid girl's involvement in witchcraft. Taking care of that should put their town more at ease.

In the end, Mao won the debacle, and the other young men followed him out into the night, taking their two hunting hounds with them.

Satisfied with himself, the Sheriff blew out all the candles, save for one and made to retire to his bed. He had a long day the following morning, especially after his men found trails. Or better yet, brought him the bounty he so desired.

vVvVv

The forest that surrounded Augsburg was a living, breathing thing. And if you were to believe all the stories, some of the townsfolk claimed that the trees could come alive. That if these gnarly and twisted branches somehow sensed a threat, they would unfurl and snag a man where he stood — to drag him into the depths of the forest bed, never to be seen or heard of again.

Everytime Luciano heard it, he'd laugh…

The townspeople were a suspicious bunch, but those claims could be easily debunked if only some of them actually had the balls to venture through this forest at night. They'd see that it was completely harmless, save for the packs of wolves and other wild animals that roamed at night in search of food. But that was to be expected…

"We were a fool to come here." Bismarck's harsh voice interrupted Luciano's carefree thoughts. "We should have insisted on investigating at the crack of dawn."

From the other side of the fire, Mao eyed the older man distastefully. Bismarck's age would be his downfall one day. The only reason why he was working with him (with any of them) at this very moment was because he knew how foolish it was to attempt destroying an unknown creature. Supernatural hunting experience, they had none. But they were all skilled in combat in varying degrees.

That had to count for something.

"And what?" Mao scoffed, untying the wine skin attached to his belt. "Return to Calares empty-handed with the second-half of our pay decreased by ten?"

Bismarck watched the silver-haired man take long and deep swigs from the alcohol they'd brought along to keep them warm at night, just in case. "There are things more important than money, Mao. Your life, in particular."

With a dismissive wave characteristic of a young man with the lad's temperament, both Mao and Luciano shared chuckles before ignoring their other companion's concerns. Nonchalantly, Luciano just reached for another short log to throw into their fire. A fire that grew ever bigger the longer they sat out here and rested for a while before moving on again. Joining the crackling of the flames, he could still hear the sound of the dogs chomping on the bone marrows behind him — his reassurance that nothing could get past them like this.

"We need to put out this fire soon if we want a fruitful search." Bismarck commented, already poking at the burning sticks gingerly. "We've kept it going long enough. It's dangerous to leave it burning for as long as we have."

"If we freeze to death in this chilly weather, we'll have none to blame but ourselves." Luciano deadpanned, still ignoring the way Bismarck glowered at him.

Snickering at how the old man acted like an anxious old lady, Mao assumed a laid back posture and crooned. "You are so paranoid, Mr. Waldstein. There's—"

As he chastised the older man for being so uptight, he made to drop another bone for the dogs, only to find the previous spot they'd occupied empty. The unusual silence had been because of the hound's sudden disappearance. And before Luciano or Mao could think of what to make of all of it, they caught Bismarck scrambling to his feet — instantly alert with weapons in his hands, blades and a pistol trained at what they could only assume was a youthful traveler.

Albeit a well-off traveler… Because that cloak couldn't have been cheap.

The flames crackled and the sticks and leaves continued to burn. The smoke still rose to the heavens. But their little campsite had gone oddly quiet. Just the sound of their own breathing and the blood rushing in their ears. It almost seemed as if the wind had ceased to blow. Where the rustling of leaves should have been, there was only silence.

An eerie silence that thickened the atmosphere until Mao swore he could feel it pressing through the layers of coats and leather that he wore for protection. His other two companions stood stock still, feigning a relaxed stance with their weapons held at the ready — not that it fazed their nightly visitor one bit, though.

The hounds sat docilely at stranger's feet, tongues lolling out as they gauged their former masters. With escalating trepidation that he desperately tried to hide, Mao couldn't stop himself from noting the way this stranger went about stroking each dog's ear.

"You have handsome hounds, my lords…"

The voice matched the face. Smooth, unfazed, and confident. When he didn't hear a response, the boy fixed those unnerving violet eyes on them and smiled. A smile so disarmingly charming that he could swear many a lady would have fallen for it. The arrogant cad.

The boy had a comely face too — for a young man. Twas a face that belonged to an aristocrat of sorts. Perhaps even a Prince from a foreign kingdom.

"Where is your traveling party?" Bismarck spoke up casually and cautiously, doing his best not to flinch underneath the weight of that penetrating gaze.

"I seem to have found one, I suppose."

Was that a joke? Because if it was, it wasn't very funny…

Normally, he'd be tempted to pummel anyone who looked at them so condescendingly, but there was something off about this boy. And it wasn't just the dark cloak with the royal purple trim and the lavish waistcoat. There was something enthralling about his very presence, and the way the forest seemed to still at his sudden appearance; about the way he cocked his head ever so slightly to the side, assessing them. Watching them.

Like a predator studying their prey…

The thought crossed his mind just as he saw his companion's backs stiffen.

"Why have you come here? To the darkness of the forest."

He knew his companions threw glances at each other, and he refused to meet their gazes. Instead, choosing to keep his attention trained on the boy — who he was seriously suspicious of, now — who waited for their answer patiently with an unnatural stillness that couldn't possibly be human. The dogs sitting at the boy's feet were as docile as he'd ever seen them. They too stared at the three of them with familiar eyes that once communicated loyalty.

"We could ask you the same question." Luciano snarled, his fists tightening around the sword he held at his side.

"I live here."

At the utterance of those words, Mao tried resisting the shiver that traveled down his spine. This was far from normal now, and the longer they stayed like this — pretending as if there was an invisible line drawn in the dirt between their party and the stranger, the more he sensed the wrongness lingering in the air. Something sinister was astir, and he stood with bated breath and watched what looked like living darkness gather around the youth.

The shadows writhed and twisted, like some grotesque dance performance. In spite of it all, the hounds stayed quiet and obedient.

"And since I do not recall ever permitting you to enter, you are trespassers, aren't you?"

The unchecked arrogance in that voice made his temper flare up. "You don't even have a—"

Human in appearance with eyes the color of flaming coals…

That was one of the descriptions Calares had given them. And somewhere to his right, Mao heard Luciano Bradley swear foully under his breath and Bismarck murmur a rushed prayer to all that was good and divine in this wretched world. As for him, he'd lost his own voice from the moment he witnessed those violet eyes shift into an ominous red. Full yet pale lips curled back ever so slightly as the malevolent creature gave them a horrifying smile. It wasn't so much a mocking smile as it was a way to show the youth's unnaturally elongated and sharpened canines.

"What are you?"

"Death…"

Two black and brown blurs raced past their campfire as the world erupted into sheer and undiluted chaos that went by too fast for Mao to completely understand. His companions were screaming, the dogs were barking and snarling, several bullets left the barrel and missed their mark. Bones splintering. Flesh tearing. Agonized wails and shrieks of torment traveled through the dark forest before they were silenced as abruptly as they had begun.

Warm breath and vicious snarling directly above him as stones and all manner of forest debris dug mercilessly through his clothes. Fingers closed around strong furry shoulders as he writhed and did his best to wrest himself free of the slobbering hound snarling and snapping its teeth at him.

The night sky dotted with the odd spattering of stars winked at him in mockery as he shouted and screamed until his throat was hoarse. Until he was forced to put a knife through the heart of his beloved pet.

Shaky hands pushed the bleeding carcass off, just in time to hear a pitiful whimper before one of the hounds were silenced forever. With his own breathing too loud for his ears, Mao barely took note of the unnatural silence that reigned once more, of the stench of carrion filling the air. Most of the ground at his bare hands were wet. And he knew without seeing that the forest floor was now drenched in his companions' blood. The fire was gone now too, the only proof of its existence — dying embers that rode on the wings of a quiet wind.

"Bring her to me…"

Startled, the once proud young man scrambled to his knees and curled up by the log, trying to rein in the shivering that wracked his body and made his teeth chatter. How could such a timbered voice be so threatening?

"W-What are y-you ta-talking ab—"

"You accuse her of abominable acts and unjustly persecute her. Bring her to me. You have until twilight on the day after tomorrow."

Weary, terrified, and sufficiently traumatized… But despite it all, he still managed to croak out the question that mattered the most.

"What happens…" He wheezed. "—if I don't?"

"Then you and Augsburg shall see Hell…"

vVvVv

"How long has she been accused of this?"

Gino Weinberg nodded in agreement solemnly after his partner voiced his inquiry. The redhead, Kallen — she was called, was nothing short of helpful. There was only so much that you could learn from a tome or a carefully preserved manuscript. The best and most integral information always came from the residents themselves. These poor citizens suffering under an unnamed and unidentified threat.

Suzaku could see why they would target poor Cera. Physically speaking, she didn't fit into their town's picture at all. But someone's physical appearance wasn't enough grounds to accuse them of heinous crimes they probably didn't even commit.

"Ever since her grandmother passed away… So, for most of her life, I suppose."

"We need to speak with her. Convince her to help us in any way she can." Gino declared, finishing his cup of ale.

"What makes you think she knows anything?" The young woman pinned the both of them with skeptical looks.

"The claims she filed at the Sheriff's cabin." Suzaku muttered as he gave voice to Gino's thoughts and his own, careful to maintain the appearance of being casual while he slowly followed the staggering steps of a disheveled silver-haired man who'd just entered. "Calares and the others refused to believe her. But what if she was telling the truth?"

"Can you take us to where she lives?"

"I—"

The sound of Kallen's voice instantly disappeared underneath the roar of the surrounding crowd and the banging of cutlery on worn wooden tables. For in the time it had taken for Suzaku to rise to his feet and attempt to intercept the intruder, the disheveled and manic stranger had already blurted out his next words.

Words that condemned one soul; subjecting this would-be sacrifice to the whims of the demon hiding among them.

"Kill the witch!"