Beta-read by Revenessa.

Hello Everyone, so sorry for the delay. But I should have the next chapter up in the next 2-3 days. Enjoy!

Chapter 25

David and Mary Margaret knocked on the door of the Drierson home, glancing around at the well-maintained garden surrounded by a black wrought iron fence and gate, a fresh coat of paint recently applied to the cheerful porch. Drierson opened the door with a grin, ushering them in and immediately introducing his wife Anne. All four of them settled in the front parlor, decorated with lace doilies and glass knick-knacks complementing the antique furniture.

David spoke first, addressing Anne. "I'm so sorry to have to tell you this, but your brother was found dead in the forest this morning. He was attacked by a wild animal." There was no way David was telling them about Ruby's involvement.

Anne gasped and turned her head into her husband's shoulder while the news washed over her, quiet sobs overtaking her frame. Drierson, however, wasn't surprised at all, hand gently stroking his wife's back.

"Is there anything you can tell me about Carl?" David asked as gently as he could.

Drierson answered for his wife. "He liked trapping animals. Never was sure what he did with 'em after that, but I fixed his traps if they broke. He was quiet and shy, and sometimes mean-spirited." His wife looked at her husband as though he were a traitor, and he answered her unspoken words. "Well, he was."

"Is there any way I can look at his room? We are in the middle of an active investigation." He didn't want to give away any more information than that. David wasn't sure what he was looking for, he knew something seemed to be off about the little man. He hoped he would know it when he found it.

"Carl moved out about a year ago. He lives in the coroner's home. Anne here cleans it for him once a month."

"He lives with the coroner?" Now that was strange indeed. Was Carl involved with his boss? It was hard for David to imagine someone as beautiful as Katrina Istrati even giving a man like Carl the time of day.

"She doesn't live there, or so Anne says. And there's one room upstairs she isn't allowed to clean." Anne's wet eyes turned toward David and she nodded in agreement.

"Is there anything else you know?"

Anne kept her voice down, as though she were betraying the memory of her brother with her words. "He could be cruel. Ever since he was a boy he liked to… hurt things… people… animals. He enjoyed it. I… I… tried to help him, to get him help, but he wouldn't change. I loved him though." She shuddered and her tears fell freely, dampening her husband's shirt.

David stood up, taking Mary Margaret along with him, who had been sitting quietly with an expression of compassion directed at Anne. "Thank you so much for your help. Can you give me the address of Carl's residence?"

David jotted down the address and left the Drierson's with a handshake, Mary Margaret offering gentle condolences before they left.

David immediately pulled out his cell phone as he started up the truck.

"Emma? Hey. You're never gonna believe this… Carl lives at the coroner's house. I'm going to give you the address. Do you think you and Killian could go check it out?... Your mother and I are going to the morgue to see if we can find out if there's more to the connection between Carl and the coroner."

He gave her the address and hung up, telling her he'd call her later. Emma had seemed pretty surprised by all the new information.

Mary Margaret looked over at David, placing her hand comfortingly on his knee, eyes questioning. "Carl's dead because of Ruby, not the vampire. Why are we working so hard to follow this through?"

"I don't know. A hunch maybe? I just think there's more to Carl than meets the eye. Why was he in the hardware store that day? Why does he act so strange? Why is he living in his boss' home? He trapped Ruby to torture her, so it's possible he's hurt others and we need to check where he lives. I know he's not the vampire, but if he was trying to hunt down our citizens, then we need to investigate him." David shook his head, mouth forming a tight line in frustration. "And about the vampire… there are just too many questions and I need to find some answers." He banged his fist on the steering wheel. "I need to protect Emma! Even if none of these things leads me to the vampire, at least I'll be doing something."

Realization dawned on Mary Margaret's face. David was a daddy protecting his little girl. He couldn't just sit back and do nothing while she was in danger. Her lips turned up in a tiny smile, her eyes full of tenderness. "Emma's going to be ok, David. She has all of us to protect her."

"I hope you're right." He set his lips in a harsh line and drove to the morgue.

It was the second time that day Mary Margaret had heard those words.

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Killian and Emma filed into her yellow bug, driving to the address David mentioned and trying to work out what they knew about the case.

A little while later, well away from the main town and any other homes as far as they could tell, they drove up to a tiny but pretty two-story house, painted gray with black shutters on either side of the white-rimmed windows, a couple of steps leading up to the front door landing. Minimal shrubs lined the edges of the house and the yard was filled with trees, probably keeping the house in constant shadow.

Grabbing a couple of flashlights from the back of the bug, Killian and Emma crunched through the leaves, the quiet breeze ruffling their hair as they walked. Emma wasn't sure what they were looking for, so the first thing she did was circle the home, noting the tidiness of the building, the paint looking no more than a couple of years old and the dwelling in need of no obvious repairs. It was perfect, too perfect, a picture straight out of a home décor magazine.

The breeze picked up, leaves swirling gently in the middle of the front yard as the pair made their way back to the front of the house, having found nothing out of the ordinary. Emma smirked over at Killian as she made her way to the front door. "Hey Pirate, want to give me a hand with this?" She handed him a small set for picking locks, knowing he was quite skilled with that one hand.

He winked at her. "As you wish." He had the lock undone in a matter of seconds, opening the door wide with a Ladies first smirk on his face.

The door opened silently, as if the hinges were well-oiled. The first thing Emma noticed was the lack of smell. Every house, every person, everything had a smell, but this house didn't. She couldn't smell anything. Not laundry soap, not cleaning products, perfumes, papers, books, nothing. In fact, the only thing she could detect in the air was the scent of her own shampoo and the characteristic leather and spice combination that was totally and utterly Killian.

Killian followed behind Emma, sweeping his flashlight back and forth. The walls and floors were bare; not a single mirror, painting or photo adorned the colorless expanse. There was a couch in the main sitting room; in the kitchen, a glass top table with two metal-framed chairs with nylon seats, designed to be functional and modern, but cold and impersonal. Behind the kitchen were a small laundry room and a half bathroom. That was it for the main floor. They crept up to the second floor, keeping quiet for some reason, maybe out of respect for the dead man who used to live there.

They found a four poster bed in the second bedroom and not much else other than some men's clothes in the closet they could only assume were Carl's. Creeping toward the master suite, they glanced at each other for just a second before slowly opening the door that didn't make a sound as it swung wide. Their jaws dropped simultaneously.

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Katrina Istrati's eyes had popped open Saturday night, her saliva pooling in the center of her mouth with a bittersweet flavor. She hadn't fed in several days, causing her bloodlust to create a barely perceptible itch that whetted her senses. She licked her full lips, a wicked smile settling itself on her mouth. Tonight she would complete her revenge. Tonight justice would be served.

She took her time getting out of bed, glancing over at her nightstand and noticing the red blinking light on her cell phone, indicating she had a message. A lab tech had called. "Dr. Istrati, I have some bad news. It appears that Carl was attacked by a wild animal last night and didn't survive. I'm sorry that you've lost such a valuable work partner. We'll miss his dedication to the lab."

The message ended and Katrina inhaled deeply, her eyes doing a lazy scan of her room as the news settled over her. She had understood the underlying intention of the message; she had an autopsy to do. In several ways, Carl's death would make things easier for her; it certainly tied up loose ends.

Sighing, she left her bed and began gathering her things, her clothes, her medical books and journals, and the diplomas she had already removed from her office walls, having locked her office door to keep anyone from discovering her plan to leave. She loaded the bed of her truck slowly, savoring the scents and sounds of the forest she had come to know and love. She would soon learn to enjoy life from a new angle.

She loaded up her beloved four-poster bed and night table, the work going quickly with her superior strength. She threw a tarp over the lot and tied it down in case of rain.

This was to be her last kill, so she donned her dark red dress again, barefoot as usual. Her hair fanned around her in perfectly formed curls, her lithe body skimming beneath the velvet fabric hugging her curves. Taking one last look at her surroundings, a sentimental consciousness mingled with the itch of bloodlust into something akin to regret. Shaking her head to find her focus, breathing in the scents and tasting the air one last time, Katrina slid into her truck seat.

She drove into town and beyond, parking well off the road next to the Storybrooke sign where her vehicle couldn't be seen, then flew into the forest, staying just above the tree line to avoid being seen by the light of the waning moon.

Going to Emma's apartment window, she listened for sounds within. When she heard nothing, she opened the pane of glass just to be sure, seeing the room completely empty of furniture. Swan must have moved.

Katrina straightened her body into a thin line, shooting very high up in the air and circling the town, looking for Emma's bright yellow car. She didn't see it anywhere. Continuing to fly in ever-larger circles, her keen eyes trained on the ground, Katrina finally caught a glimpse of the signature color, her face paling as she saw that it was parked at her former home. She was lucky she had picked tonight for her last night in Storybrooke.

She silently alighted to her former front yard, her bare feet coming to rest on the strewn leaves, her toes slightly gripping and pressing her feet into the ground, a flash of the twenty-eight years she'd spent in her home playing across her eyes like a film strip. She almost missed the place.

She glanced at the stars, indicating the time to be somewhere between 9 and 10 pm. Perfect. She could make everything happen well before sunrise, and have plenty of time to drive to the motel in the next town, close the curtains and dream the day away much as she had before the broken curse had awakened her addiction.

Stealthily floating toward the open door, Katrina smelled the couple before she saw them.

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David drove his truck in the direction of the morgue, the shared workplace of Carl and Katrina, hoping that he might find something to further explain the reason Carl was living in Katrina's home. They arrived to find all the doors locked. Because they didn't have the time to wait for a key, he broke into the door they had entered before, flipping on the hallway lights as they came to them, Mary Margaret following closely behind her husband.

Entering the elevator and descending to the basement, David told her to hold her nose, as he placed his face beneath the collar of his shirt. She understood why as soon as the doors opened.

David raced to the main dissecting lab, flicking on the lights as soon as he found them. A large white sheet covered the shape of a body on one of the steel tables. David walked over to it, and gently peeled the covering back. It was Carl.

Mary Margaret hung back, desperate to avoid seeing another dead person when flashes of Mable Anderson's crumpled body still haunted her at odd moments.

David stared at the corpse a moment longer, trying to avert his gaze from the gaping neck wound. Noticing a small discoloration on Carl's shoulder, he moved around behind the corpse's head to see two bite marks that looked exactly like the other two victims. "Hmmm," David thought aloud.

David followed the path to the coroner's office, finding it locked. He kicked open the door and gasped in astonishment. The entire office had been denuded of everything—books, certificates, files. Nothing was left except the furniture and one file cabinet.

David suddenly had an idea. He grabbed Mary Margaret's hand and pulled her behind him as he raced back to the elevator.

"What? What are we doing?"

"We're going to the station."

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Emma and Killian moved into the master suite, completely bare of furniture. Every wall was covered in charcoal drawings, each paper the exact same size as its neighbor. They formed perfect lines, each edge lining up with the perimeter of the next paper as if a level had been used for the simple tacking.

The wall to the left contained drawings of animals, mostly rabbits, squirrels and deer, although there were a couple of foxes. The artwork was actually quite good, light and shadow expertly captured, but as their lights moved down the wall, the drawings became more and more disturbed. The animals went from sitting or standing in quiet positions, drinking water, and eating, to frightened, trapped and finally tortured, limbs and blood splattered across the pages.

Killian and Emma turned as one toward the next wall, this one covered in drawings of wolves resting, running, playing, panting, stalking. Every conceivable posture was skillfully drawn, prominently displayed in the perfect lines along the wall. One row of drawings even looked like they would form a flip book or a cartoon if they were put together. The scene of a wolf bounding after a rabbit raced across several pages until the last picture in which the wolf had caught its prey and was tearing it apart. As their flashlights turned to the next wall, both of them entranced by the intricacy and detail, Emma gasped as she recognized her red-headed friend staring out at her, her attitude and sassy eyes challenging any onlooker with an easy smile.

Emma looked over at Killian and swallowed around a lump in her throat, dread pooling in her stomach as she continued moving her light along the wall, until the drawings of Ruby began to unnerve her—Ruby with cut marks all over her skin, disfiguring her beautiful face with pain, Ruby standing naked over Carl as he lay motionless on the floor beneath her staring lovingly into her distracted face, Ruby eating the heart out of a man.

Killian moved his light further down the wall while Emma kept her eyes on the sketches of Ruby, unable to tear her gaze away from the graphic images.

"Emma!" The sound of her name in the perfect quiet made her jump, and she turned to face Killian. Her eyes followed the perfect circle of light held steady at a particular drawing on the wall. Katrina Istrati glared out at them, beautiful and terrible, with fangs dripping in blood.

"Istrati!" Emma hissed. She moved her flashlight around more quickly, the beam revealing half a wall filled with Katrina in several different situtations, doing an autopsy, biting into a victim, glancing at Carl who looked back at her lovingly.

Emma reached into her pocket to pull out her phone to call David. That would be the last thing she remembered.

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Katrina floated up the stairs of her former home, the stench of the two lovers polluting the fresh air. Katrina was a stickler for maintenance, so as she approached the door of the room they were in, she knew she could push it back without it ever making a sound. Gently edging her way into the room, she saw the pair looking at Carl's drawings of her. She fisted her hands at her sides, sneering with pleasure that he had met his demise earlier that day. Damn the little man for leaving a trace of her identity.

Just then, she saw Killian glance at Emma. His face in the low light looked so much like the last expression she had ever seen on Liam, the day he had turned away from her, leaving her to suffer without so much as a backward glance. Katrina glared at him and her desire for revenge erupted into rage. It was his fault she existed somewhere between the living and the dead. His fault she had suffered hundreds of years of endless thirst. His fault she was always running and moving and nearly neurotic from the constant threat of being captured and caged and destroyed. His fault she never even had a chance at love.

Stalking in slow motion, her unshod feet soundlessly connecting with the wooden floor, she stepped up behind the pair. She continued to move, impossibly slowly, until her head was just outside of Jones' peripheral vision, close to the back of the Swan woman's neck. Then preternaturally fast, she moved forward and bit Swan, bringing her hand high up and over Jones' head. Swan buckled under the attack, and Jones' eyes flew wide as he turned to see Emma's body jerk, a shout forming on his lips. Katrina waited for the recognition in those stormy eyes, and as soon as she saw it, she brought her hand down on the top of his head, hard, instantly knocking him out, abruptly stopping the sound that had escaped his throat, and then doing the same to the woman.

The blood from Emma tasted so good, clean and fresh. But she didn't take much, knowing that the nausea that usually followed was not a distraction she could afford. Sure enough, she felt the thickening in her stomach as the blood settled there. Thankfully, it wouldn't be enough discomfort to keep her from her purpose.

Gathering both unconscious people in her arms, dangling them each over a shoulder the way one would carry a couple of large feed sacks, Katrina left through the front door, and then flew into the night sky, heading deeper into the forest, where she would be safe from prying eyes.

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David hurried to unlock the door of the sheriff's office, Mary Margaret close behind, racing to the computer terminal that had been working on fingerprints several hours earlier. The computer was still on, and he typed in Katrina Istrati's name, searching for her fingerprints on file. Sure enough, "Inconclusive" was typed across the ten boxes that would normally hold the oval shapes. "Gotcha!" Fierce dread with a small measure of excitement surged through David in a nauseating combination now that he had the answer he had so diligently sought for the last several weeks. He knew who he was looking for and needed to warn Emma as quickly as possible.

David looked back over to his wife. "It's the coroner. I'd bet money on it." At Mary Margaret's confusion, he continued quickly, "The fingerprints. Vampires must not have fingerprints, or else I would have found them on at least one of the houses. Everyone in Storybrooke has fingerprints on file except Katrina Istrati."

David picked up the phone and dialed Emma's number.

The phone rang and rang, finally going to voice mail. Mary Margaret watched David's frowning expression like a hawk. "What is it?" she asked, unable to keep a growing sense of panic out of her tone.

"Emma's not answering." David groaned as his heart clenched in fear. He prayed that Emma wasn't in the clutches of the vampire so soon. He needed more time to find her.

Mary Margaret's mother instinct kicked in, and a clear determination settled over her entire body. "Something's wrong. Emma would answer her phone. She knows the seriousness of the enemy we're up against."

"I know. We need to find her, now. I'm going back to the apartment to get my sword and your bow. Something tells me we may need backup weapons in this case."

Taking his hand as he drug her out of the station, she asked "How are we going to find her?"

"Ruby."

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