What had she been thinking? It was a terrible idea to venture out after dark. There was a murderer out on the loose. So many people had already been killed in the past few weeks.

The governor – a round gentleman with deep set eyes – issued a city-wide restriction to keep the residents of Red Grave safe. Obviously, few regarded his warning. The people who came out only during the night continued to do so, and the murders did as well. The media thoughtlessly reported the crimes as animal attacks; feral dogs from the mountains. Few believed this to be true – Clara did not. She knew the killer was a demon.

Doctor Lambert was one of the few who opposed her. If the news told him that the world was going to end within the year, he'd buy a safehouse and live the rest of his days underground. Clara thought his license was fake; no person so credulous deserved to be a therapist – she had never even heard of the college he graduated from. But the court demanded she pay him a visit twice a week, so she had no choice but to listen. It was that, or the hospital again. Not like she cared; locked up Clara was safe. Lambert at least agreed with her on that, albeit not for the same reasons. He believed that she was a hazard to herself; a schizophrenic like her mother.

Demons do not exist, he reminded her the last time she went to see him. It was her idea to prove him right; prove that she belonged locked up. It's all in your mind.

Clara snorted in amusement. Fat chance, doc. I see them; not all the time, but they are very much real. She hoped that he was right.

The cocktail of pills he prescribed her – second generation antipsychotics – rested at the bottom of her faux leather purse. Clara left the bag on her cot so that she wouldn't be lured to take them and ventured out passed curfew; a decision she was gradually coming to regret as the night went on.

It's so damn cold. Clara hugged the jacket closer to her body. It was mid-February. She was freezing and terrified, but kept moving forward like her life depended on it.

In an unfortunate way, it sort of did.

The shelter Clara resided in was locked up for the night; it was far too late to return. She honestly didn't know where she was going. She just kept moving. But surely, she thought, she'd get somewhere before dawn.

Nothing so far was amiss. The fearful brunette heard no voices whispering in her ear; no mischievous shadows darting in and out of her field of vision. She was relieved, but at the same time saddened that Doctor Lambert was right; she was sick like her mother. A short chuckle tore from her throat, sending a cloud of frozen air into her face. Look on the bright side, my girl. At least demons aren't going to eat you.

Clara hid her nose beneath the collar of her jacket and shivered – the wool faintly smelled of potato soup. Her stomach ached in hunger. Damn I'm an idiot. Nothing is clear––

A church bell suddenly resonated near her. She took a deep breath and glared at the enormous building. It looked as if it had seen better days – the windows were boarded up – adorned with old but stunning gothic figurines, which sat and peered down on her. Frankly they scared her, made her feel like she was being watched. Clara passed beneath them with her eyes aimed at the ground.

Until a noise startled her; the sound of wings fluttering through the air.

Clara felt her legs tense up and stop moving. Birds don't fly at night, do they? The bell must have startled a bat; a bat in the belfry. She chuckled at this, but it was short lived as the wings flapped again. Daring herself to look, she glanced at the church again and breathed a sigh of relief. There were no bats ready to swoop down on top of her; no statues watching.

Chills ran down her spine. No statues? Her eyes squinted in the dark – maybe she was mistaken; maybe she didn't actually see them before. No, that didn't seem right. Ignoring the nagging feeling in her gut, Clara turned her back to the church and continued on.

It wasn't too far now; the residential area was five minutes east from where she currently was. Her tired legs moved a bit faster than before.

But then, so did the sound of wings.

What in the hell is––

Clara dared a glance behind her, and what she saw brought tears to her scared eyes.

What had she been thinking? It was a terrible idea to venture out after dark. She was doomed.