CONTENT ALERT: this chapter contains a suicide attempt. Don't read if you're susceptible to that kind of content.
Sypha got rid of her sleepiness with a great stretch. What a good bed. She rolled to the side and faced Trevor, still in the dark, in the beginning of a morning, and he was still asleep. She got half of her body up and found herself alone with him in the bedroom. With a pat on the shoulder and a gentle shake, Trevor also opened his eyes at once.
"Good morning," he wished.
"There's just the two of us here," she looked around a second time, for no reason at all, "Did you see where did he go?"
"No, but great anyway. Come here," he pulled her by the waist.
"Can I lock the door first?"
"Oh, there's a key. Please do."
She got up and did so, also pouring them a cup of water. They drank it in a single gulp, leaving the cups besides the bed, and soon, Sypha was back to Trevor's arms.
"What a beautiful voice you have," she complimented, after a kiss, "You were incredible yesterday."
"Yours is great, too. You should sing more often."
"That's not true."
"I'm telling you. You've got talent. Is it a Speaker thing?"
"We do have some songs," she let out an embarrassed smile.
"It's practice, like anything. But a good ear will help, and you already have that."
You're so charming when no one's watching. He was not always like that, though; in the beginning, he was aloof enough for Sypha to ask herself if he even knew what to do with a woman by his side… Or with a person around. The months went by, and so did her requests. And look how things changed. He pulled her in for another kiss. "Tell me what's on your mind, don't save it for yourself. I want to hear it." It started out as subtle compliments, that bloomed little by little, and they came together with a smile he acquired as his usual grumpy face faded away. However, one thing never changed: his quiet confessions, in the dead of the night, when no other soul was awake to hear it. She recalled his last nightmare and hugged him tighter, that opposite kind of body, broad and receptive. I can't protect you from what haunts you, but I can help you let them go. They broke it apart, breathless. Trevor looked down with a clever expression; Sypha did the same, just to be sure.
"This outfit sort of suits you well," he smirked, running a hand on her curves. Sypha felt her face getting warm.
This shirt's not mine. She remembered changing her clothes some days before, putting on something Alucard lent her, and she wore an ivory shirt that indeed fit her body finely. Trevor stopped what he did and asked:
"What's wrong, you didn't like it?"
"I unexpectedly did."
"Then, fine," he got busy again.
Alucard sat by a table, and he was the only one in the saloon that time of the day. He stared at the last page written on his journal. What to write, now? He considered not finishing the last sentence. I think it's time to start a new one. He heard footsteps from the stairs and saw the two coming from the bedroom; he greeted them first.
"Good morning," Sypha replied, adjusting her shirt, as he imagined she would do, "What's worth ordering?"
"Maybe the same I did," he showed the oatmeal porridge, made with oat they brought along, "But anything will be good. It is a skilled kitchen."
A young woman, who looked very alike to the tavern keeper, stood by and got their orders.
"Bring me the most bitter tea you have," Trevor said, "I have a sick stomach."
"Two other porridges, please," Sypha raised a finger.
As their orders arrived, she unveiled a honeycomb and broke it on the bowls. When she tasted it, she let out a sound of appreciation and called the waitress to ask what was on the dish.
"It's ginger, ma'am," she gave Trevor his tea, "I said it was for last night's singers. I hope you like it."
They were still eating when they heard something fall on the floor, coming from upstairs. The male tavern keeper, who showed up to clean the counter, left the cleaning cloth where it was and climbed the stairs, soon climbing them down on a hurry to talk to his wife and the young woman, then leaving the place. Sypha waved to call for one of them, and the owner approached.
"I'm sorry for the intromission, but what happened?" Sypha asked.
Alizia shook her head and answered in a quiet tone:
"There's another case of the curse."
"Can we talk to the person?" Alucard asked.
"If you're not bothering him, you can try. He's a fabric merchant on his way to Targoviste. Who would imagine…," Alizia looked out of the window, "He's in the last bedroom of the corridor."
Alucard went upstairs and knocked on the door. A scared man's voice asked who was it.
"Sir, I'm also a guest here," he had to think quickly, "I think the same is happening to me."
The merchant opened the door, shaking and with suspicion in the air. He was about forty and wore fine clothes, as well as a dense, nut-brown bear on his face, and had a full, round body.
"Thanks, sir," Alucard said, "Could I have a seat?"
"As you wish."
The windows were only half-open, and the bedroom was in gloom. The man hesitated before telling him:
"It's been two days I dream of shadows," he stared at the floor, still standing, "I got the mirror to trim my beard, and I was a shadow myself. There was no face. There was nothing."
"I also dreamt of shadows, sir," he hoped to sound convincing, "My own shadow tried to drown me in a river."
"I knew I shouldn't have come. That's all you hear about on the road," the man crossed himself with shaking hands and let himself fall seated on the bed, "Leave Ploiesti now, before it's too late for you."
"Would someone have cursed you?"
"I don't know," he ran a hand over his own face, "I was here last week and left, thinking I was safe."
Alucard noticed a silver rosary on the table and asked:
"Do you always go to church, sir?"
"To every mass, unless when I'm on the road," he stuttered, "I'd go tomorrow if I wasn't a dead man."
"We're not. Don't lose your faith. I'll look for help," Alucard stood up, "I don't know your name. I'm Adrian Fahrenheit."
"Leo Alexe," they shook hands. His hand is even colder than mine.
"Nice to meet you, sir. Take care. If you need me, look for me in my bedroom."
He left Leo's room and headed to his own. Looking from above, he did not see the other two in the saloon, and he opened the door to find them playing checkers on a board they brought along.
"How is he?" Trevor asked, facing the door.
"Dead afraid. It's understandable."
He told them about the conversation in a quiet tone, sitting on the chair.
"So, he wasn't here for a week?" Trevor frowned.
"It's what he said to me. That he left, trying not to be cursed."
"It could be either of the two," Sypha counted on her fingers, "It happened somewhere else, or the one week deadline is just a guess."
"And the first hypothesis is the less probable one. There are no news from the curse in another city or region. It's the curse of Ploiesti, period," he looked from Trevor to Sypha, "On the deadline matter, that's what intrigues me. Why a week?"
"It must be a matter of being observed," Trevor suggested, "The ones responsible might look for the easiest targets."
"Up until now, we have a burglar, a young girl, and a merchant from another city. It doesn't look like to me that they belong to the same group," Alucard rested a hand on his chin.
"But they might have come in touch with the same thing," Trevor made a move on the board."
"And that's much more likely," Alucard nodded.
"We talked about going to the hospital. It seems like a good next stop to me," Sypha said.
There were knocks on the door. The young waitress brought them Alucard's bowl, which he left on the table to go talk to Leo. He inquired her about the hospital.
"It's on the back of the church. Not this one around the Tree. The one to the East. Near the city walls."
As they left the tavern, they noticed it stopped raining and a crowd formed on the Tree square. There was a set stage and some fair stands, but, despite the size of the crowd, they could only hear a rural song that the people sung and marked the rhythm with clapping.
"It's the concert thing," Trevor approached, "I don't know if it's the repertoire, or if I'm not drunk enough, but yesterday was a better show."
"How about we watch it, anyway?" Sypha went ahead, pulling him by a hand.
As they got a good spot to be among the crowd, after saying a lot of "excuse me" and "sorry," the song ended and was applauded. The following number was a huge dog that could do tricks, an especially skilled juggler to whom the crowd threw some coins, a couple of dancers, and another singer that spent three songs on stage, relying just on the people's choir as a background, singing with no instruments playing. Her voice was low-pitched and memorable, one that was a rare find. To finish, she recited a monologue in which a mother lamented her son's disdain for her, and the crowd went to tears with her. She got off the stage with a hat in her hand, passing by to receive coins from the people, thanking at every moment. Sypha searched her own pockets to give her one, with no success.
"It's fine, miss," the singer smiled at her before going around again, "Your smile is worth a thousand coins."
The people dispersed to the fair stands and to other places, and the three headed East. It mustn't be so hard to find a church. As they walked, Alucard asked something that occurred to him:
"What are we doing to get in?" The other two stopped and looked back, "Just asking to talk to the ill will grant us an expelling and nothing more."
"I was thinking about that. Do as I say," Trevor took a deep breath, "Punch me."
"What?" Alucard and Sypha said at the same time.
"You heard it. A punch. Right here," he pointed at his own face.
"What are you talking about?" Alucard stepped back.
"Don't start. You wanted to beat my ass literally last week. Just do it."
"Trevor, I don't want to-"
"Before I change my mind, please."
Trevor pulled him by an arm to an alley by their side.
"Hurry up," Trevor rolled his eyes, "I've been through worse."
"How strong is it supposed to be?" He cracked his knuckles.
"Strong enough for me to need to take care of my face, of course."
He hesitated, keeping quiet. Trevor mocked him:
"It's no time to feel sympathy, come on."
"Uh, do you want it to be a surprise, or would you rather that I count to three?"
"Don't count," Trevor shook his head, "If I know when it comes, I'll harden my body."
"You won't use it as an excuse to hit me afterwards, will you?" Alucard stepped forward.
"Don't be stupid. What kind of-"
Now. He kicked Trevor's knee, and, as he fell, he hit him with said punch on the right side of his face. Trevor fell to the ground as a dead weight and cursed at him, complaining:
"I didn't ask for that kick. I'll owe you one," he spit a bit of blood, "I've still got teeth. Great. Sypha?"
She helped him back to his feet and aided him on walking. Trevor pointed with his other arm:
"Now, on to the hospital."
Sypha arrived with Trevor by her side and they both climbed the stairs of the church that was also a hospital; she screamed for help the best way she could. You could've just shouted farther from my ear. They took twice the time to get there because of his limp leg, but, at least, the assault looked more veracious. A nun came out to check what happened, a woman by their age wearing a dark habit.
"Sister, please," Sypha begged, "He's hurt. We've been robbed."
"Oh, God. Please, come in. Where did it happen?"
"In an alley near the Tree," she lied.
It was in an alley. Trevor muffled a laugh. Just nowhere near there. The nun guided them to a spacious public bedroom with many beds and that smelled like sickness. He turned up his nose and regretted moving his face so much. They laid him on an empty bed. The nun asked:
"Do you want to talk to the city guard?"
"He didn't see who did it," Sypha shook her head, "It will be of no use."
"Poor man," the nun got closer and sat on a chair near the bed.
"It was but a scare, sister," Trevor tried to calm her down, "I've still got my life, at least."
She examined the swollen area on his right cheek, lightly touching around it. Trevor glanced at Alucard, who looked everywhere else except for him. Bastard.
"I'm getting some ice," the nun stood up, "Avoid moving in the meantime."
Alucard noticed he was being stared at and whispered:
"Don't give me that. It was your idea."
"The kick wasn't," he rested on the bed frame, "Wait, is there ice here?"
"There must be an ice house somewhere," Sypha suggested, "But I can solve that problem in a flash later."
Trevor looked to the sides, noticing the other patients and the nuns paid him little attention, and found the moment for it:
"Go see what you can find."
The other two looked at each other, nodded, and left.
The nun was back with ice rolled up in a cloth. She asked:
"Is it just your face, sir?"
"No, my knee as well. But my face hurts a lot more."
She applied the cold compress and he cursed from the pain.
"Sorry for my manners, sister."
"You're forgiven. We hear far worse than that here, actually."
Trevor took a deep breath to stand the touch of the ice on the forming bruise. He then started a chat:
"How has it been here lately?"
"I'll have to take off your boot. What are you talking about, sir?"
"I mean, I'm not from Ploiesti. I've been here for just a few days, and heard the rumors."
The ice was moved from his face to his knee, what made him curse even louder. The nun asked:
"Hold on the compress, please."
Are you sure I can't throw it out the window?
"There's nothing broken in my leg, is there?"
"I'll be sure about it soon. Hold the compress," she repeated, removing his boot, "Is there any other wound?"
"Just from a week ago. A bar fight," Half a truth is fine, "They're better already, don't worry."
"You should be more careful, sir."
"Sometimes, you just can't avoid it," he sighed.
"And where are the other two?"
"They are waiting for me outside, I think. I told them to go back to the tavern we're in, but I'm not sure if they did."
"I see," she started touching his knee, much to his distaste, "Do you still want to hear about the curse, sir?"
"I wasn't exactly asking about it, but it's always good to know. I don't want it to happen to us, too."
"It doesn't look like there's anything broken, thank God," the nun sat on the chair again and started whispering, "The curse began since that one troupe arrived, two or three weeks ago."
Trevor felt a shiver down his spine. Is it? He answered:
"I talked to a gentleman that saw them and everything's alright with him. His daughter was the only one cursed, sister."
"They don't curse everyone that watches them, or else, the whole city would be dead. Of course they choose some people. I don't know how they do it, but the Devil works through them, God protect me."
He was thoughtful for a second. Well, it's not impossible. He put a hand on his chin.
"And can the cursed be cured, sister?"
She shook her head, muttering:
"We have some of them here in the hospital, ones their families can't hold at home anymore. They're in closed bedrooms, or they would hurt others. We just try to make them pass away in peace."
The corridors of the convent were dark and had no furniture, with few windows, some halls with pillars, and many closed doors. Sypha walked on the front and Alucard followed her, both quiet. Looking down, she remembered; "this outfit sort of suits you well." Feeling safe of being the one forward and in the dark, her face got beet red.
"What should we look for, exactly?" Alucard asked.
Sypha had a jumpscare, stopped walking, and turned to answer:
"Not to bump into any nun, in the first place. Second, we should try to talk to someone who's cursed, I think."
He frowned and pointed at her direction:
"Your first plan just went wrong, though."
She looked back and saw an old lady wearing a habit, with a crooked back and wrinkled like a prune. Sypha had another scare and greeted the religious woman with a stuttered "good afternoon". The other said nothing and headed to the the perpendicular corridor with a fleeting step.
"Are we following her?" Sypha asked in a whisper, to avoid the echoing walls.
"Why not?"
They tiptoed after the old lady, but she surprised them being much quicker than expected. She climbed a set of stairs and, then, to a kind of bridge that liked the upper floor to a neighboring building, a part of the convent.
"Is it a problem that we're here?" The question occurred to Sypha.
"Uh, probably?"
When they arrived the bridge, it started drizzling on them, but the old lady was tenacious wherever she would go. They observed her gaining some distance, the two under the roof. They looked at each other and Sypha continued ahead, pulling Alucard by his sleeve.
In the next building, there were no halls, the corridors were narrower, and the echo was muffled. The old lady climbed down many more stairs, and they saw no other soul besides her. She opened an already half-open door, leaving it so. They peeked through it and saw an end of a lit candle left on a table, and that was the first time they saw the shadow.
It was a tall human figure, huge in comparison to the old lady and taller than both of them. It had elongated arms, narrow shoulders, and long, sharp fingers, as well as a face without any hair or facial features. Any trace would disappear in its ebony tone, and one could not see through it. It followed the old lady's footsteps, until she sat on the tall bed, got her head up, and the shadow disappeared. She turned her face to the door.
"Who are you?" she inquired.
Sypha opened her mouth to answer two times, and decided for honesty:
"Sister, my name is Sypha Belnades. I roam this country taking care of the people. You are being haunted, I just saw it."
"Haunted? Hmph," she let her sandals fall on the tapestry and crossed her thin legs on the bed, "I know, girl. It's the shadow, isn't it?"
Alucard and the old lady crossed eyes. She asked:
"What about you, young man?"
"I'm Adrian. Sypha's my…," he hesitated, looking at the sleeve she held and let go when she noticed, "…Sister."
"I have no idea how on Earth did you end up here, nor who let you in, but it doesn't matter. If you kill me, I'm already old anyway," she coughed, "This shadow. It started appearing to me last Sunday. In the beginning, I thought it was the Devil. I screamed and screamed at it for it to leave. I showed it the cross, threw holy water at it. I even cursed at it, God forgive me. But it won't let me go."
"Aren't you afraid, sister?" Sypha frowned.
"Afraid of it, me?" She let out a cynical laugh, "Girl, when I was your age, I let a man the size of your brother crippled for life when he tried to violate me. I only fear God."
"And what do you think the shadow is, ma'am?"
"Beats me, girl. There are many kinds of demons that roam this Earth, even more in times like these. It's a shame most of them are made of flesh and blood, just like you and me."
Sypha decided to try:
"Do you dream about it?"
"Every single night! Since one Sunday, two weeks ago, there wasn't a single day in which I dreamed of other thing. What a nuisance it is."
"And what did you do that Sunday, that you didn't do in others?" Alucard frowned.
"I went to the mass in the other church. The father invited me, and I don't have much more to do with my time."
"Katrina went to the church. Leo did, too," Alucard remembered.
"That's true," Sypha shivered.
"Every time I go, I sit right on the first seat, since it's been years I don't see much anymore. But I can still hear well, oh, I do," the old lady cleared her throat.
"Do you sleepwalk, sister?" Sypha inquired.
"Me? No."
"We found you in the corridor. Haven't you noticed us?"
"Corridor, girl? When was I in the corridor? I don't set foot outside of this bedroom since lunchtime."
Sypha felt her body growing tense. She commented:
"There are many more cursed people here in Ploiesti. They're dying."
"I know quite well. Here, in the hospital, there are lots of them, and we don't know what to do with them besides locking them away and waiting."
"I'd like to try and banish this shadow from you, sister," she breathed in deep. Stay strong, "We don't know what's going to happen, but…"
"There's not much time left for me on this Earth. Either you or the shadow, anyone that puts me to rest, it would be my time to go anyway."
Sypha nodded and asked:
"Does anyone else know about your condition?"
"No. These brainlets would treat me like I'm senile."
"And, if something happens, do you wish that I tell someone your last words?"
"Tell those lazy bums to wash the pillows. They're full of fleas in the hospital."
Sypha nodded again and talked to Alucard:
"Go find Trevor."
"How?"
"Work it out."
He turned around and left to the other building. Sypha stayed with the old lady, and told her:
"I'll ask you to sleep, sister."
"That's what I was going to do. I woke up to take my sandals off."
Alucard left the bedroom towards the rest of the convent with fleeting feet. If we're quick enough, we can save the others. He felt his heart race. Is it fine if I run? So, he ran. The way back was done in half the time, stairs after stairs, a corridor after another. The hospital wing where he was at first was getting closer when he collided with something grumpy and in pain, who cussed all the names he could when he fell to the floor. Alucard also lost his balance and fell. He shook his head and just then found out what was that about. He stood up, held out a hand for Trevor, and saw his swollen, slightly disfigured face. Trevor did not use his help and complained:
"I leave for some fresh air and that's how you show up?"
"What's that in your hand?" Alucard asked about the posy.
"Arnica. The most boring flower of Wallachia," Trevor raised the bouquet to show him, "I can drink it with alcohol, and that helps a lot."
"Great."
"Now, please collaborate and don't mess it up any more."
"It was your idea," Alucard frowned, "Hurry, before someone sees us."
They followed by the same way. Trevor still had a limp leg and cursed at every stair step.
"You could give me a little hand here, you know."
"You don't want me to do the bridal carry, do you?" Alucard smirked.
Alucard held out an arm to support him, and Trevor also laid a hand on the rail.
"So, you got any clues?" Trevor asked.
"Clue?" He chuckled, "We have a whole case on it."
Alucard told him about the old lady, and Trevor connected the dots:
"It must be a shadow. The entity kind. The kind that possesses the victim's body," he sighed, "I think we do have quite a case."
"If it wants a body, why would it kill that burglar? What's the use of a corpse?"
"He might have tried to resist the possession."
"Even if an indigent like him didn't have any means to fight against such an attack? It's something of the mind, isn't it?" Alucard asked.
"So, I think he lasted as long as he could and fled from Ploiesti trying to live."
"Which makes more sense," Alucard rested his remaining hand on his chin, "But, let's think together, if you were in search of a new body, would you choose the people we met?"
"No," Trevor shook his head.
"Leo Alexe is rich, but that isn't of much use for a shadow."
"That one girl has nothing to offer, I guess, and the old nun is at the gates of death, as you told me. They're useless in that matter."
"I wouldn't say 'useless', but you're right."
They heard the rain pouring harder on the roof. As they crossed the suspended bridge, they heard footsteps in the corridor and hid, each one of them behind a pillar, without even breathing; a nun passed by with a mount of clothes inside a wicker basket. She seemed to go by without noticing them and they started walking again. When it was safer, Trevor commented:
"The nun in the hospital bedroom told me some things," he cleaned his throat, "That the troupe from earlier is the one to blame for the curse. That it started since they arrived here."
"I have another hypothesis," Alucard raised a finger, "What if it's the church?"
"Why do you say that?"
"Katrina goes to the church. Leo goes to the church. The old nun went there in recent times… It's not hard to draw that conclusion."
"What if it's both?" Trevor frowned.
"Well, it's not impossible," they stopped walking, "It's here."
"It looked like a long trip, just as everything with a leg like mine."
Alucard gave him the stinky eye. Shut up about those bruises for a single second, please. They knocked on the door and Sypha opened it.
"Nice timing," she gestured for them to come in, "She's trying to sleep."
She pulled trevor in for a greeting kiss. The old lady, laying on her side and facing the wall, asked her:
"Who's there, girl?"
"My brother's back, and my husband is here. Don't worry."
Trevor stared at the old lady, then looked at Sypha with a frown, opening his mouth to protest to be silenced with Sypha's finger.
"If they know how to be quiet, they can come in," the old lady grumbled.
Sypha headed to the table and lit a new candle with the remains of the old one. She asked the old lady:
"Is it really alright that we do this?"
"I already told you that it is, and don't bother me again with that. You're lucky that the candle won't wake me up. If you want to talk, leave."
They looked at each other and left the bedroom, closing the door. Sypha whispered:
"Do we have a plan?"
"Uh, no?" The other two said at the same time.
"I do, then," she said, "I think of closing the room with a seal, wait for the shadow to show up, and see what happens."
"It might attack," Trevor warned, "What about then?"
"Then I'll try to freeze it. Using fire here would burn the building to the ground."
"Can it cross objects?" Trevor asked.
"We don't know," she shook her head.
"Did it see you?"
"We don't know either."
Trevor put a hand on his chin and said:
"Well, so, in case it attacks us, I'll-"
"Come back," shouted the old lady from inside the bedroom, "I remembered a thing."
"…I'll take care of it," he completed, with the other hand on his short sword handle.
They opened the door and the nun was again sitting on the bed with her legs crossed. She started:
"There is a chant. It'll calm down even the maddest of the men. In my land, they said it would heal the possessed. Maybe it is of some use for you. The boys look sturdy, but anyway. Listen."
She recited the words, a series of rhythmic verses with specific intonation and a particular melody to it, also with exact word lengths; it was not a marvellous song, or a voice trained in singing as the tavern keeper's, but it had its mystic, strange beauty.
"Repeat with me, girl," the old lady said, "The other two as well, until you learn."
They started the song together with her and were interrupted in the very first verse:
"No. You right there," she pointed at Alucard, "Let your voice out. You've got one, don't you?"
They went back to it. Three verses later and she prevented them again:
"You," she pointed at Trevor, "Straighten your shoulders."
Trevor let out a sigh and did so. They returned to repeat the chant. It was Sypha's turn to be corrected:
"Girl. Speak as if for a whole theater. Don't mind if someone hears it."
With the bedroom sealed shut and in the candlelight, under the spell of their own voices and the rain sounds, the existence of a world outside was erased as they rehearsed, each time closer to the ups and downs of the old lady's voice. In the end of the nth repetition, when the afternoon was coming to an end, she declared:
"I'm already tired. It'll have to do," she laid down and pulled the blankets, "Now, good night."
They waited in silence until the old lady seemed to fall asleep. Sypha went for the door and the window, locking them with a seal, and went back to her place. Is she shaking? Alucard frowned. Trevor asked in a whisper:
"Nothing?"
"It's not working," Sypha shook her head, "Let's try the chant. Alucard?"
"Yes?"
"Can you start?"
"Are you sure? I was the worst one of us."
"I'll repeat it with you, but I have to keep an eye on the seals."
He closed his eyes. The three initiated the verses in a slow pace, until they synchronized, the different voices tangling in the air. Alucard felt a hand holding his own; Sypha was by his side. They tied a new beginning to every end, repeating and repeating, as a nursery rhyme, with the strong rain as a background. Alucard noticed his head feeling lighter, and so did his body, as if he floated, but not even a millimeter above the floor. His fingers started tingling. When he opened his eyes, he felt like waking up, and saw something materializing over the nun's body.
"There," he whispered.
Sypha let go of the hands she held and started chilling the room. She's going to freeze the thing… Or to try it, at least. The shadow spent quite some time lying atop of the old lady and raised its upper body. Hmm. It got up backwards, the old lady facing up on the bed, and the shadow on its stomach, moving slowly with its long members to support it. It turned its head the same way. Does it move like that? When the faceless head noticed them, it pounced on Sypha like a lynx.
Sypha had time to perforate the shadow's chest, then colliding with the wall and falling to the floor. Without enough space to use the whip, Trevor retributed the attack jumping to grab the shadow and throw both of them to the ground, holding it by its waist. It got rid of him without breaking a sweat, also throwing him against another wall, then getting up. This room is fucking tiny. Alucard side-eyed his useless longsword and attacked with his claws, scratching the air where the shadow's neck was before.
Trevor, trying to get up, unsheathed his own sword and brandished it, hitting a blow on the creature's back. The old lady let out a lament of agony. She can feel it! He also saw Trevor widening his eyes and interrupting another blow of the sword. The moment of hesitation was enough for the shadow to grab Alucard by his neck with both hands and get him up in the air, squeezing its long fingers. He tried to breathe and the air escaped his lungs, his head about to explode; he held one of the shadow's wrists just to feel his strength leave him, his own fingers letting loose of it and his sight getting blurry. In a fast movement, Trevor worked the miracle of entwining his whip around the shadow's throat and pulling it back, the old nun suffocating on the bed. Suddenly, a cold wave invaded the room and the shadow started freezing from a foot, the ice climbing its way on its long body, until it became a crystal.
Alucard punched the arms that held him in the air and they shattered. He fell to the floor breathing through his mouth and coughing, with a hand on his aching head. He also saw Sypha thrown on the ground, with her hand on the shadow's ankle. She dragged herself to do this. They both raised their eyes to the statue and there was not much time to admire its bizarre form, because Trevor broke it with a kick. The pieces fell, containing the dark matter of the shadow that undid itself in a smoke. The nun was, as well as they were, in a dead silence.
"Is she alive?" Alucard panted.
Trevor staggered to feel her pulse:
"I guess you can call it that."
Alucard stood up, both of them helped Sypha to her feet, and she recommended:
"Let's leave her sleeping," she walked up to the bed and put a hand on the old lady's forehead, "Sweet dreams, sister."
Sypha took off the seals from the window and the door, opening it. They eavesdropped the outside, and only the storm made a sound. They left looking for the backdoor of the convent and found one.
"Does anyone want to run?" Trevor asked, looking at the rainfall.
No one agreed to it, and they followed on a slow pace.
Here we are again, tired and drenched. Alucard opened the doors of the tavern and the male owner, standing on a ladder, tried to patch up a drip in the corner of the roof. He climbed down and showed some surprise upon seeing Trevor's swollen face:
"Dear God, what happened?"
"Someone tried to mug us," Trevor answered, "We could run away."
"I'm just back from the hospital. I can tell them to pick you up," the owner scratched his head.
"It happened close to there, it's better that you don't," Trevor pulled his soaked pants up to the knee, that was also swollen and changed shades to black and blue.
"Was it a band?" The owner asked, "I mean, to attack three people like that…"
"Yeah. It wasn't a huge one, but they got us by surprise," Trevor shrugged.
"Jesus," the owner looked elsewhere, "Don't forget to talk to the city guard, when you can. What's going on with this place lately?"
"Forgive me the intromission, but is Mr. Alexe here?" Alucard inquired, "I need to talk to him."
"Oh," the owner gulped, "I thought you would've seen the movement around the hospital."
"What happened, sir?" Alucard felt a shiver down his spine.
"He jumped from the roof. His life is hanging by a thread."