Lucy Winchester pulled her loose dark hair back into a tight bun and righted the gun in her side holster, shifting impatiently. She had been waiting for the Harcourt brothers for an hour already, standing beside the back gate of the Winchester house. Morgan and Charles had been sent to school in the early hours of the morning, so she had been alone in the house while she stripped her weapons, once, twice, three times, whilst she waited for a call from William. Finally, it came, and she stood outside, waiting for them to show up.

Lucy's parents, James and Elizabeth Harker, had traveled to America on the Frisia, a German steamship, built in Scotland, that had arrived in 1876, when Lucy was nine years old. She still had fond memories of her homeland, but being 28 now, she had established herself in the community and was well respected, especially for her marriage to the well known attorney's son, Arthur Winchester, who was blissfully unaware of the dangerous life that she led. Her parents and her parent's parents before them had been hunters, and as you and I know perfectly well, once you're in that job, there's no getting out.

'Finally', Lucy sighed, as the Riker trundled along the road, Will jumping out to meet her. Michael wolf whistled, "You going to a party, love?"

Lucy shook her head at Michael, a smile playing on her lips, "If I was going to a party, I certainly wouldn't invite you." Her London accent was barely detectable under her polite British tone, "You're a scoundrel and a thief."

Michael stared at her in mock affront, "Well, I never, Miss Lucy. Talking in such a harsh tone with an honest gent like me."

Will tutted, and Lucy raised an eyebrow at him as the trio surveyed their weapons supply in the trunk they carried constantly. They had an arsenal between them, salt rounds, new Colt M1900s with a few Colt Navy Revolvers and half a dozen Light Cavalry Sabers. The new, gleaming silver edge glistened in the sunlight, symbols etched into the shining metal. Lucy would never admit to Arthur that she had taken some of these. In fact, she would never admit to him that she knew that he was a Man of Letters. Lucy closed the lid on the trunk and the three hopped into the Riker.

It didn't take long to get to the house, but long enough for Lucy to field strip their armory twice. Lucy held up her hand to shade herself from the midday sun. Will and Michael jumped out, taking the sabers from the trunk. Will ran one thumb over the incantation, "Are you sure these are gonna work, Miss Lucy?" Lucy smiled at him with a reassuring look, I'm sure. Michael slammed the lid on the trunk, throwing a saber to their patron, who caught it with unerring skill. Together, they made their way to the porch.

Will and Michael edged forward, Lucy following close behind them. The file was extensive in it's description of the house, so there was no doubt that they were in the right place. It had told of a demon, who was possessing and destroying people. But there was no visible connection between them. Arthur's looping cursive told of the way in which the demon destroyed the bodies, burning them from the inside out. Lucy shivered; she didn't want to be anywhere near anything that could do that to a person, but wasn't that her job, to be fearless where others were fearful? She tossed her saber to her right hand, the knife that Arthur had given the boys protruding from her pocket.

Something just didn't seem right.

Michael carefully pushed the door open. Will was the first to make his way inside, his eyes wary and alert. She saw in his eyes the same discomfort that must have shone in hers; he could sense it too. Michael was nowhere near as worried. He strode in after his younger brother, but his heavy footsteps did not even make a creak on the ancient floorboards.

It was all just a little too unnerving.

Will took the journey upstairs when the trio finally split. They were greeted in every room by silence. It had wormed its way into every nook and cranny, and where a floorboard should have creaked and groaned under the weight of heavy footsteps, it was merely silent. Where a vase knocked by a careless hand should have screamed and crashed, there was only silence. There was just nothing.

But then it began.

The noise, unlike anything that Michael, or William had ever heard before. It burned, searing through the silence and piercing their ears, and it rendered them completely inert. There was nothing they could do, but hold their hands over their ears and hope that it would stop. But it went on, and Will, driven by the need to protect his brother (perhaps the Harcourts are why our brothers share that trait), pelted down the stairs and straight into Michael, who was stood, still as a statue, at the bottom of the stairs. Will was about to grab his brother, to tell him that they needed to get the hell out of there, when he saw it too.

Now, having only ever seen it once myself, I will try to describe to you what the two brothers saw there, but I fear my words will fall utterly short of the beauty. Imagine you are at a waterfall. Just humor me for a second and imagine, would you? The light catches off every single shimmer of water as it cascades down the luscious cliff into the pristine depths below. Or imagine staring at the heart of the sun, and not being able to look away. Without all the pain that would cause. And the lasting eye damage. Never mind, let's just stick with the waterfall.

If you asked them about the experience today, were the Harcourts still alive, they would tell you that it was as terrifying as it was beautiful. So much power, so much energy. But in a second, it was gone.

In the place of this light, stood a man, no taller than Will (and Will was not particularly tall, I can assure you). His grey eyes pierced the Harcourts gold ones, and they seemed as if they could see into the very soul of the beholder. His hair, by contrast, was a mellow blonde. Though, perhaps what drew the attention of the beholders the most was that he was stark naked.

Yes, stark naked. In the middle of an abandoned house. And it was quite a sight, I can tell you that. Especially when he pulled a short silver blade from thin air.

But they weren't afraid (cause having chased wendigos, vampires, werewolves, shtriga, ghosts and a thousand other things, you'd think they'd be used to the unexpected by now).

Michael and William righted their sabers, preparing for the fight that they knew was almost inevitable.

Almost.

Of course, it was that point at which Lucy would enter the scene. Arguably, she had the better view of the man in question having been behind him in the 'kitchen' when the house started to shake. She held her sword up high, years of experience hunting telling her to get the hell out while she still had the chance. But her boys were going to fight, so she wasn't going anywhere either. Just as she swung it, the blade was caught by a gentle hand, and now those piercing eyes were fixed on her. There was a flicker in them, something indiscernible, something almost like...

Recognition.

The same light that had flooded the room only seconds before had reappeared, and it infused Lucy in a warm glow. It felt like flying. Then floating. Then falling.

And then there was nothing.

But dark.

And cold.

And red.

And pain.

And a single name, a broken cry in the darkness.

Remiel.