Rose stirred, reminding him now was not the time for existential musing. Especially not when the next thing to break the silence was a loud cry.
It's sound cut through the silence like a knife. The choir of howls that followed sent a shiver down his spine. Wolves were a natural threat, a predator to match that of humans in the early stages of evolution. Nowadays they were a manageable threat; The bullet was a finely tuned method of defense. It wasn't foolproof, a pack of wolves could easily outmatch that of a lone man with nothing but a flashlight. That would have been cause for alarm alone, but with the scenery thus far mixed with past experience? If he encountered mutated wolves, he couldn't claim to be surprised anymore.
The gunshots that followed were few. He counted three in total before the silence returned. Either a survivor managed to take down three creatures and live, or they thinned the horde marginally. In the essence of 'better safe than sorry' Ethan decided to assume the latter option. It was better to prepare for the worse than saunter straight into their demise. He stood, creeping around the wall separating the trail from the home.
The snow crunched under his foot as he climbed the short steps. The door was easy to push open with the back of his shoulder. His protective instincts preoccupied with keeping a firm hold on Rose. The inside was dimly lit by a lone lantern. It's light illuminated everything with warm hues. As he approached, the glint of a knife caught his eye, the tool embedded into the desk. Trying to fight well carrying Rose would be a near impossible task, but being defenseless was even worse. With a soft grunt he pulled it out, tucking it away for potential future use.
As he rounded into the main living space of the home he was greeted with a familiar sight. A large hole had been created in the wall; The edges of the wood were jagged and protruding, obviously not created with the goal of renovations. The broken and toppled furniture accommodated the rough look, evidence of either a fight or a wild animal. Carefully, he maneuvered around the remains in his effort to approach the hole.
A low growl prompted him to pause as he neared. With a keener ear, he listened to the heavy breathing above. Who—Whatever it was that was perched above was uncomfortably close for his liking. It sounded animalistic, like a rabid animal that had somehow found its way onto the roof. The sound of a droplet falling into a puddle joined and he caught the motion to his right. He looked over, noticing the blood coating the edge of the hole, dripping into the small collection below. Further out the snow was tainted by a crimson splatter, remnants of organs and limbs spewed about haphazardly.
He wanted to vomit.
Rose wanted to cry.
The bundle in his arms moved, protesting against the fabric binding her. Her soft babbling of discomfort stirred the fear in his gut. Whatever lingered above was not oblivious. It's heavy breathing cut off by a sharp bite. The wooden boards of the roof creaked as it began to move. Panic gripped him. One hand flew to the knife as the other pulled her tighter. The tension in the air was broken by a scream. Another gunshot in the distance captured the creature's attention and Ethan watched as the flash of something beastly leaped away.
He didn't get a good enough look to describe it in perfect detail. From what little he did see he felt silly describing how the word 'werewolf' came to mind. The creature had the shape of a man but it's skin was littered with fur. Judging by his environment, it was a carnivore as well. Suddenly, wolves felt like the kinder threat.
A sigh left his lips as his body relaxed. He shifted his focus to rocking Rose, encouraging her to settle down. Thank god she wasn't hungry yet, an absolute miracle given the circumstances. He needed to find someplace warm and insulated asap. As she settled back into a calm state he returned to exploring. The cold air nipped at his skin as he stepped outside. The village continued to guide him as he found the red gates were the only way forward.
Upon opening them he was greeted by a short bridge over a shallow river. Laying across the bridge was a small building, or more like a shack. Inside of it's door was a body with only it's legs visible. There was no guarantee the body would have anything of use on it, but Ethan had learned that help could be found in the oddest places. It was a nice idea as he crossed the bridge before immediately stopping and forgoing the idea. An unknown force pulled the body further into the building, letting the door slowly close in its wake.
That was a firm no.
With that option thrown away, he looked to the rest of his surroundings. To his left the stream continued on underneath a blocked path, covered by thick branches. To his right the red metal fencing had been knocked down, left to rust in the snow. Through the makeshift opening stood a larger house, along with the stream flowing down from a water mill. If it weren't for the horrendous events that plagued this village, the old style homes would have appeared quaint and inviting.
As it stood, he needed to be careful as more growls drifted through the wind. Movement caught his eye as he walked forward, seeing that same werewolf-esque shape amble out of view. It had disappeared alongside the edge of the nearest house, indicating how unsafe refuge in any of these homes was. More creatures were littered around the environment, perched atop roofs and stairwells. The cold tone of their skin made it easier for them to blend into the winter landscape. With a deep breath he scanned for the safest route.
With the density of the creatures perched along the homes, he opted for blending into the wall along the river. The freezing temperatures of the water bit at his feet as he crossed. Thank god it wasn't deep, only a few inches higher than his ankles. Hypothermia would only complicate matters. The sound of the water flowing helped mask his movements across, stepping onto the damp rocks. As he walked he spotted a group of the beasts digging into a corpse, having been hidden behind the house. An old style rifle lay forgotten nearby. He ignored the gruesome sounds of their feast, pushing any unpleasant thoughts to the back of his mind.
Past the water mill he found another red gate ajar. After sneaking through he discovered what looked to be the village's public square. The divulging paths met within it's centre, decorated with the statue of a woman. Down one of the paths he found the cart that had blocked him earlier surrounded by the locked gates of the neighbouring homes. Down another path was, yet again, a red gate. He wasn't bothered by the fact it was locked, but he was beginning to wonder why they all had to be red.
The last path guided him towards a decorative door, sculpted with the depiction of a demon and a warrior. To his left was a small cemetery and he briefly wondered if Zombies were the next thing to try and rip him to shreds. It would match his track record. To his right laid a church, surrounded by a sturdy rock wall. The path also led to yet another door further down. It was closer to an iron gate, clad with golden wings and a fetus.
Ethan wasn't a particularly religious man, even less so after the incident in Louisiana. So the concept of hiding out within a church and praying that God would protect them sounded more idiotic than hopeful. Especially with the creatures still so close in proximity. A fact that was further punctuated by a distant howl coming from deeper within the village. No, he'd rather take the chance of travelling further away. Maybe he'd get lucky and whatever the hell was going on had contained itself to the village.
It took strength to push the stone doors open. The rock protested the action until he got it just open enough to slip through. He briefly wondered if closing it behind him would be better, allowing him to keep those creatures out. The thought was beaten by a deeper worry: If something worse lurked ahead, he'd need to flee quickly (and he didn't want to push it again). So he left it, crossing the second bridge of the day.
Craning his head, he could see the castle towering over him. It's imposing structure became more intimidating the closer he grew. Birds flew by, flying through the fog that blanketed it's surroundings. It felt like the set of a classic vampiric story. He already had werewolves, why not vampires? He shook his head, removing the thought before he started jumping at shadows.
The cave's stairs were damp and it's walls even more so. Each step he took echoed in the small space. The air inside wasn't so biting, it's cold more aloof and stagnant as it caressed him. At the top stood what looked to be a hallway mixed with a storage, clad with boxes and barrels. He approached the small wooden door, finding it locked. Within he could hear the light rattling of chains accompanied by faint leisurely footsteps. Maybe it was a good thing it was locked.
Nearby stood a gate with a lever placed neatly beside it. An odd choice for a defensive system but it worked in his favour. He pulled it, watching the gears turn as the entrance opened. It revealed a set of stairs and beyond them was the same grey sky. As he emerged into the cold from his small respite he noticed the odd sensation growing in his gut. It warned him of danger, the odd feeling informing him that something within those walls was deadly. However, unlike all the other times it'd appear, it wasn't as concerned. As if saying 'there's danger! ...But it probably won't rip your heart out, probably'.
Rose stirred in his arms as the wind picked up. It's force ruffling his hair and jacket, along with the clothing hanging from the scarecrows. The same ones he avoided looking at as they appeared to be made from actual corpses. The stench of rot helped reinforce the notion, spurring him to walk the trail quicker. It rounded towards the front of the castle, it's entrance welcoming him. Nearby stood a carriage, one Ethan idly assumed to belong to the castle's owner. Until it's backdoors opened unexpectedly.
It wasn't a startling motion as a man emerged, perching himself on the edge. The lantern on his door illuminated his round and friendly face. He looked to Ethan with a lack of hostility, speaking with an amiable tone. "I've been waiting for you, Mister Winters, and ah! Young Rose as well, now that I hadn't been expecting."
He narrowed his eyes, approaching him cautiously. "How do you know our names?"
"Anyone who is anyone has heard of the likes of you. A hero...looking to protect his daughter." The man answered as if ad-libbing a broken script. Ethan raised a brow at his peculiar behaviour but remained content to listen to him speak. "Though I must say, that castle seems an odd place to seek refuge within."
"Do you have any better ideas?" Ethan returned, not as snappy as one would expect him to be in such a situation. In truth, he was curious to hear of alternatives, despite how suspicious the man appeared to be.
"I can't say that I do," he replied and Ethan couldn't tell if he was being genuine or if it were merely a merchant's perfunctory facade. "Forgive my manners, call me the Duke. Anything you desire I can provide."
"You wouldn't happen to have baby food in there, would you?" He asked, half mocking and half serious.
"You'd be surprised at some of the merchandise I collect," he answered, turning to reach for something behind him. "I like to be prepared for all manner of customers, you never know what one may need."
"I suppose that's true," he muttered, watching as the Duke turned back to him with a baby bottle in hand.
"Until you are able to provide for little Rose yourself, I'm willing to hold off on payments." He explained, handing Ethan the bottle. "This only applies to necessities, of course ."
"Sure," he sighed, taking the bottle. In any regular circumstance he'd never take food from a stranger, especially to feed his daughter. However, this was the definition of irregular circumstances and even then he found himself hesitant. Yet, he still placed the drink to Rose's lips, letting her feast. It wasn't like the food inside was any more credible, if there was even edible food. There were too many unknown variables and too many risks with every option available.
He returned the empty bottle to the Duke, giving a brief nod of the head goodbye before venturing further. The towering gate laid open, granting him access as he passed underneath it's claws. The ornate doors were heavy to open, groaning from the strain as he pushed his way inside. They were quick to close behind him without a care for how loud they were. On the positive side, they appeared to do a great job at keeping the cold out.
The inside of the castle was warm, surprisingly so (Medieval infrastructure wasn't exactly known for it's heating systems). He'd even venture a guess and say it was the warmest building he'd find in the area. Now if he could keep safe until Chris arrived, that'd be perfect. The decor was sophisticated, littered with furniture that screamed wealth and importance. The tall walls were coated in detailed patterns, adding to the grandiose appearance of it all. If Ethan were to steal a few vases he'd probably be set for several years.
In the front foyer stood a painting of three women. To its left was a dead end, an elevator shaft missing an elevator. He entered the door on the right, traversing the stairs that greeted him. The door along his path was also locked and just as it had been in the village, he felt like the building itself was leading him somewhere specific. The next door led into an open room, feeling rather barren from a lack of furniture.
With numerous doors to choose from he approached the one at the edge of the room. Given the ornate architectural design surrounding it, his eyes were naturally drawn to them. A plaque was engraved into it, adorned with elegant cursive. Thankfully, he'd studied enough of the local language to understand the words. What he didn't anticipate was the numerous bugs that began to creep into his vision. Their buzzing grew louder, indicating a larger horde beginning to form behind him.
"We have an uninvited guest?" A woman's voice rang through the room, followed by laughter.
"What the—?" He turned, eyes following the stray bugs as they began to congregate and form into the shape of a woman. He blinked, watching as it didn't stop there as two more were created from the existing swarm. The distinct feature separating them was the colour of their hair; Blonde, brunette, and redheaded. The laughter split into three distinct voices echoing in the marble room.
"Oh! He brings a child!" Said one of the women, her voice filled with excitement.
The woman who's blonde hair spilled from her robe sauntered into his space, inspecting Rose with complete disregard towards Ethan. "Oh, she's a big one!"
"Back off!" His protest fell on deaf ears. He attempted to back away from her, finding the task difficult when the others blocked his path of retreat.
"Bela, do you think she's the 'Rose' mother was referring to?" The brunette asked and Ethan's heart skipped a beat. How the hell did these people know about Rose?
"There's only one way to find out," She answered, snatching the bundle from his arms.
"Rose!" He lurched forward to try and reclaim his daughter before a stabbing pain drew him back. A grunt escaped as he collided with the floor. The hard surface agitated his unknown wound. The redhead giggled as she stood over him. The sickle in her hand was dripping blood, likely his own. "Give her back, you freaks!"
They didn't grace him with a reply, save for more sadistic laughter. He glared at Bela as she turned her back to him, rocking Rose in her arms. Dread filled his stomach at the sight, along with a burning protective rage. The other two ambled around him, each digging their sickles in his legs. With supernatural strength they dragged him along, practically flying through the corridors as their lower bodies dematerialised into swarms of the unknown bugs.
It was a short journey, much to the delight of his limbs. There was a soft thud as they let him drop upon arrival. With a swift yank the women removed their sickles from his leg, earning a yelp in response. His pant leg began to stain as the wounds bled, seeping onto his hand as he attempted to apply pressure to the nearest one. He grinded his teeth together, attempting to distract from the ache.
"Mother, I bring you gifts." Bela announced, holding a vastly different demeanor. Her earlier mannerisms disappeared in favour of a more respectful attitude.
"You are so kind to me, daughters." A new voice replied, smooth and laced with power.
He looked over to see 'Mother'. The woman was seated with her back towards them, illuminated by the fireplace's light. The only source in the dimly lit room, painting the gold with warmth. It's crackling was loud in the quiet room, almost as loud as his heartbeat. 'Mother' didn't seem to notice as she took a sip from her drink. The casualness of it all did nothing to ease his worry as she stood. Her full height was inhuman, towering over them with a self satisfied grin.
"Oh my, Ethan Winters?" She began, her dress swaying with her sashay. "How kind of you to waltz right in."
"Mother, is this the 'Rose' you were speaking of?" The brunette asked, gesturing to Bela's arms.
Realization shined in her eyes. A feigned gasp fell from her lips before she spoke, her voice laced with mock friendliness, "And you brought the child? Even better!"
"Don't you dare touch her!" Ethan's wrath poured out of him. The only thing preventing him from standing and lunging was a thin thread of common sense.
"You have nothing to worry about, Mr. Winters." He didn't believe her sly words for even a second.
She raised her arms; A gesture that the women recognized as two of them began to move in tandem. They sounded unenthusiastic, as if they were merely working a minimum wage job. "Yes, mother."
Each woman grabbed one of his arms, hoisting him to his feet with ease. He ignored how his wounds protested the weight agitating them. A small voice in the back of his mind questioned how the pain wasn't as harsh as he anticipated. He ignored that too. Instead, he glared at 'Mother' as she approached him. The woman to his right, the redhead, raised the edge of a knife to his wrist. He tensed as it's cold metal neared his skin, waiting for the pain to come—
"What is that noise?"
Her knife lowered, forgotten as she peered somewhere along his person. With curiosity he followed her gaze to his jacket. It was then his ears picked up on the quiet sound of something buzzing. It registered that the sound was from his stolen phone as she dug into his pocket, pulling it out. She held it in her hand, face scrunched in puzzlement. 'Mother' shared a similar look as she studied the device.
"What in the world is that?" She questioned.
"...My phone?" He answered with a quirked eyebrow. Sure the place was a castle but they had to be aware they weren't actually in medieval times, right?
"A portable one? How fascinating…" she mused, holding her hand out towards the woman. She placed it in her hand, allowing her to inspect it further.
"If you're going to torture me, at least let me answer that first." He bargained, grasping the faintest speck of hope.
She looked between him and the phone. It was clear from her features that she was debating his request, he just wished she'd hurry up before it went to voicemail. Something that it would do very soon and he didn't know if Chris was the type to try again or if he'd assume the worst. With narrowed eyes she held it out to him. Both women fully released him, allowing him his limbs back. Their gaze burned into him, keeping a close eye for anything suspicious. Mentally he shrugged it off, taking the phone.
Chris spoke instantly as he answered, unable to keep the trace of worry out of his voice. "Ethan, what took you so long?"
"The fact I'm being held hostage by three gothic women and a walking tree," he glared at 'Mother' as he responded.
"I let you have a final conversation and you insult me?" She asked, offense deepening her tone. The women stepped closer and he tensed in response. Right, best not to piss off the murderers.
"Ethan, do me a favour and pass the phone to her." Chris stated it as less of a request and more as an order.
"What!? Why?" He narrowed his eyes, the man's logic completely lost to him.
"I have a theory based on my intel, it's my best bet for keeping you alive until we arrive."
Chris was an enigma, one that brought a multitude of headaches and stress. He sighed, locking eyes with 'Mother'. "This better work,"
"Just trust me."