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Too many things never happen at once. Life and death are always about timing, and it seems the clock had struck for me.
No matter how much I try. I can't ignore the latest events. Crimson appears under siege. Since the Colosseum incident, the Hawks have been everywhere, undercover amongst the civilians they watch.
I feel under custody, but it's how it has always been. This feeling is exactly what many Strigoi denounce and has extremists like Magnus gain followers for his revolution.
How can entities as powerful as us be tributors of the weak?
Everything about humans is ephemeral. Yet they're the ones in control. Some say that science gives them an advantage, but all species show submissiveness when facing humans.
Why?
No one can explain. Some say we're no different from animals in a zoo.
"Adonis."
"Søren."
Animals, if some look down on Strigoi, none can say they are as loathed as werewolves.
"Why have you summoned me?"
Adonis chuckles as he comes out of the shadows to stand beside me on the cliff, "You have such a way with words; get with the era, Soren. I just gave you a call."
"I don't call howling at the top of your lungs on Mount Redemption a call," I reply.
Adonis smiles, all teeth glistening in the moonlight. How I envy their whiteness, I bet he has never had to sit in a dentist's chair. The thought flusters me as he speaks, and his lateral incisor sparkles in the dark like a diamond, "it was the safest way. It's the only thing the Hawks don't understand. Things are getting complicated, Søren."
"For whom?"
"Don't pretend you don't know. Strigois are disappearing, and wolves are dying.
Hawks infest the city. Something is drawing every varmint to Crimson. I feel it on the ground, in the soil. Something has awakened."
Adonis is right; I have had the same feeling ever since I met Inna. Inna has always been here. Yet no one ever noticed her presence. Now that I know she exists, I can't help but desire to feast on her blood. I, who has resisted and fasted for decades, am drooling for her blood. All who meet her have a physical response, and now there's this fairy.
"Søren, did you hear me?" Adonis says and recalls me to the sound of my rumbling stomach.
"Yes, you were saying you lost six of your pack here, and Pricolicis are appearing."
Just as we have Repugnants, vârcolac have Pricolicis, undead werewolves souls unable to gain human form. Violent, they only live to kill. They had since disappeared.
