Chapter 20

"Let everyone beware of his neighbor, and put no trust in any brother, for every brother is a deceiver, and every neighbor goes about as a slanderer." -Book of the Healing Church 9:4

How was it possible for Fredricx to awaken in places he did not find himself rendered unconscious? That was third by his count, a count far too high. Also, how could his head still be ringing? It was as if his skull housed church bells, and it was Sunday morning.

"Queen's grace," he muttered. Where was he now? Blinking and gritting his teeth, he tried to will away the headache, which was secondary to the body ache.

Fredricx sheltered inside somewhere. Overturned crates shielded him from the moon's rays. After peaking about, all that separated him from the streets with its pandemic was a couple of haphazardly hammered slats. His cane was a few feet away.

Ettie, he thought about Ettie. More accurately, he panicked about her. Fredricx clamored up and between the slats, almost leaving the cane behind. The moon stared back at him. How long had he been unconscious? Surely, it would be morning soon or would have been morning already.

He surveyed the scene before him. He did not recognize this section of Yharnam. Smaller, squat buildings piled haphazardly. In the background, the Healing Church's bell tower was visible. It always stuck out in the Yharnam skyline. Thankfully, Lucas' apartment was not far from the Church, and Fredricx was not far from the Church.

For once, he was lucky. Instead of encountering live beasts, he only looted the dead ones, pocketing a handful of dirty pence. He was apprehensive, but it did not pay off immediately. Fredricx fought the desire to sprint through the alleyways. It might be faster, but definitely, not safer.

As he neared the Church, the air seemed to thicken. The street was decorated with corpses and broken carriages. As if on cue, shadows danced. Fredricx opted to hide instead of confront another cohort of beasts. He dove into the back of one of the carriages. It creaked and lurched forward ever so slightly, causing Fredricx to swear. Hastily, Fredricx closed himself in or as much as he could given one unadulterated door.

He watched from the splintered window as two forms passed. Their posture was oddly human. Their scent was not particularly beastly. One, clinging loosely to a saw blade of sorts, wore a drab yellow color with a cowl pulled about the shoulders. The blade was wrapped in red linens and had a long, hinged handle. The other wore familiar dark colors, toting about a vicious ax. Unlike Fredricx, they both held guns, marbled pistol and blunderbuss.

"Ohh," the dark coat wearing one started with keen interest, "What's that smell?"

The yellow clothed one responded, "The sweet blood. A fresh Hunter, perhaps?"

"Let's find him, Henryk." There was distinct amusement.

Fredricx hunkered down, gripping the cane backwards. Even Yharnamites knew about the type of camaraderie among Hunters. It was marked by lack thereof coupled with cruel and unusual practices.

If Fredricx could just overpower one of them, he could get away. If he could just knock one square on his back, he could escape.

The remaining door on the carriage swung open, revealing the two Hunters. To them, Fredricx was revealed. However, he was ready for them.

Selecting the saw blade carrier, Fredricx used the cane as a battering ram. The handle nailed the sternum of the Hunter, sending him backwards.

Fortunately, it was not backwards enough. Instead of kissing the stone, he merely staggered backwards a step or two. Of all things, he chuckled through a wheezy breath. Instead of amusement, the partner leveled his blunderbuss to Fredricx.

"Spare the fledgling, Gascoigne," Henryk pulled down the mask from his mouth, revealing a laughable grin with yellowed teeth. He located a blood vial from his coat and jammed the needle into his person. He felt about his collar bone with a satisfied huff.

Fredricx's gaze went from the center of the gun to the face of the threatener. Surely enough, standing before him was Father Gascoigne, the sermon preaching, philanthropy spreading, and racially selecting hirer for the Healing Church's construction.

Fredricx set his jaw, feeling veins tighten around his face and neck. He desired to not allow anger cloud his judgement, but the law of the land was lax until sunrise. What would it matter if he would allow anger to guide him? However, two on one were not favorable odds. Given the stains on their coats and weapons, they had more experience with beasts in the tip of their blades than Fredricx had barely mustered.

Henryk continued, "The Hunt is still early, and it will be a long one. We need all the weapons toward the beasts tonight."

Tentatively, Gascoigne dropped the blunderbuss to his side with a resilient breath. "What do you call yourself?"

"Fredricx."

There was no recognition, no glimmer of realization. He did not recall their interaction a few days prior. Oh, how this egged on Fredricx's anger.

"I'm Gascoigne. This is Henryk," he stated as he gestured with his ax. Gascoigne scooted to clear the carriage's exit. The other followed suit.

Figuring he had a better chance of survival not being confined, Fredricx climbed out and gripped the cane as intended. He stood slightly taller than both men.

"Oh," Gascoigne flatlined. The mood shifted. "A foreigner."

With a breath and an eye twitch, Fredricx decided not to act on his first instinct. Instead, he brushed past Henryk and started for the backside of the Church. There were no meek, socially appropriate words.

"He is not worth our time. He will be at the helm of the beasts soon enough," one snided.

Ettie was important.

Ettie was more important.

Ettie was most important.

He reviewed his mental checklist over and over. Find Ettie. Assure her safety. Find Ettie. Assure her safety.

XXXX

The street that Lucas lived on was usually known for its unruly occupants. Now, it was eerily quiet except for faint prayers and whispers.

Thankfully, Fredricx spotted Lucas' door. The incense lanterns were knocked over, but still lit. The soft glow was anything but comforting. The aroma made Fredricx's skin crawl. Strangely, tt had never irked him before now.

He knocked on the door despite his desire to burst it at its hinges. "Ettie, it's me, Fredricx."

Silence was the response. No footsteps. No rustling. No coughing. Gritting his fist, he gave more of a blow than a knock to the door. His heart hiccuped. "Lucas, it's Fredricx. Let me in."

The response was the same. Taking a step backwards, Fredricx used the distance to place a kick near the handle of the door. It buckled under the force, and flew open.

Ettie was not wrapped up to her chin in her quilt. Lucas was not coughing and sputtering. The apartment held one. That one was Fredricx. The quilt was left limp over the back of a chair. Red speckles dotted Lucas' nest of a bed. She was not there. Where was she? Also, where was Lucas? It didn't seem like him to let his cough do him in on tonight of all nights.

As if he could not be any luckier, clopping and choppy breathing filled his senses. Fredricx turned to peer into the street. He did this in just enough time to catch a beast's dark eyes. This one was gangling, less humanoid than the ones from earlier, but less beastly than the werewolves.

It grew more intimate than eye contact. The beast lunged at him, and successfully from the beast's account, they both tumbled to the ground, sliding across the grungy floor of the apartment. Fredricx could feel broken pieces of chair underneath him, poking and prodding him from the bottom. The beast was poking and prodding from the top.

Its teeth reek and dripped warm saliva about Fredricx's face. Not waiting to be bitten, he thrusted the cane up, skewering it through the ribs. This was hardly a lethal blow, causing it more anger than pain. It let out a deafening roar.

Scraping dress shoes, Fredricx squirmed and rolled from underneath the beast. Before he could make it to his feet again, it had slapped Fredricx back to the floor. Its slick teeth neared his arteries.

Desperately, he used his free hand to grapple at the beast's own jaw, which was surprisingly meaty. It was strong, still unhinging its jaw as it prepared to kiss Fredricx.

He had not abandoned the cane, but the weapon seemed useless in such proximity. Moving his fingers from the handle, he feebly trailed his grip closer to the end. This portion was greased with blood. The hope was to use it as more of a dagger than a spear. However, his spatial reasoning failed him. The end clanked with the floor instead of having the desired effect.

For his next act, Fredricx diverted some thought to bringing the weapon up before plunging it into the neck of the beast.

is own was spared as it roared again, rearing backwards away from him. The cane went with the beast, but Fredricx selected a new weapon, Ettie's quilt, from the floor. Surely, she would string him up later for this. He stood still, but ready for the beast. He let an exhale escape as he waited for the beast to orient itself.

It turned and charged at him. In turn, the Hunter cast the quilt into the air, which snagged over the head of the beast. It growled, while Fredricx ducked around to its flank. The handle of his cane protruded past the covering and was easily reclaimed.

As it flailed limbs wildly, Fredricx caught a stray few claws, but, thank the Queen, that the coat took most of the impact. Red rushed to the site, bubbling and warming at his shoulder.

Bringing the cane across and across again from the opposite direction, he swiped the beast through Ettie's quilt repeatedly. The hand sewn pieces tore, mimicking the state of the beast underneath. The beautiful colors were transformed into a ruddy red.

The pair, beast and covering, collapsed, and Fredricx was lucky not to be squashed. However, he would not be so lucky when he had to explain to Ettie what happened to her quilt. The beasts were a trivial problem in comparison to when she would realize what he had done.

XXXX

Initial panic from lack of finding Ettie and surging adrenaline from being blindsided by the beast were fading. Fading just enough for Fredricx's senses to catch a scent that was becoming quickly familiar.

Lucas' apartment had been reduced to rubble. The beast was splayed out in the center, which took up the entire space. The overturned crates, which normally acted as a bed frame, were so overturned that they were rightside up. The food on his counter was now residing on the floor. The white dust of flour coated the room like a light snow.

The fragrance wafted itself from the only solid piece of furniture in the room, the chest. Fredricx set down the cane and undid the latches. The hinges creaked upon opening, causing the room to fill with that saccharine smell.

Dingy clothes that had not seen a washing since their purchase crowded the top. Next, there was a layer of rubbish shoes. Moving the shoes caused the clinking of glass.

Fredricx had known about the drinking. In fact, he was a participant in it until the money ran dry. This was not the pressing issue. Fredricx shoveled around used blood vial after vial. Lucas had sworn he did not partake in it. Fredricx had stepped in the line of Adullam's blade, swearing on his friend's behalf. Every Hunt, the three of them had been holed up in Ettie and his apartment. Any of these Hunts could have made all of the difference between man and beast. Lucas had lied and was willing to have allowed for Ettie to pay for this sin.

Fredricx glanced back over his shoulder at the beast. Was that Lucas? Had his incurable cough in combination with the blood caught up with him?

He shook his head, fighting a headache. Pocketing the only full vial from the stash, he crept over the beast and stepped back into the street. Find Ettie. Assure her safety. Find Ettie. Assure her safety.