"Those cannot be men!" Edgar winced as he refused to believe that the Drekker were formerly men, that this was all a ruse by a team of butchers, but Paul informed him otherwise, as Taylor comforted Edgar, frightened at realizing the fear was justified.
He didn't let on that he looked the Big One in the eye from afar, figuring it wouldn't mattered, they were far from it, it couldn't have saw him, he assured himself, he only saw in the corner of his eye, it wouldn't count.
"Even if you're apt, Doctor, I fail to believe one man's capable of dealing with six of them!" Edgar continued as Paul led them away from the rooftop, now that they know what warehouse the Drekker hid in.
Edgar made a solid point, Paul gave him that, he looked at the barrel end of a Dalek's ray gun more than once since he started his adventuring, and he had several ways out of it, with these, there's seldom what he can do that won't result in grisly ends.
And though this is a peculiar situation, Paul wasn't deterred, he only had to become ever more creative.
"We found their nest, tomorrow we'll retrace their steps with clarity, for now, let's head on," Paul summarized what he wanted from Edgar and Taylor.
City or not, the Drekker were at an advantage, and they knew it.
Likewise, in the day, Paul and the other two have an advantage.
With that said, the trio stuck to the street lamps, avoiding the darkness, mindful of any movements, wanting to see where the Drekker went after bathing themselves in an unconnected water source.
Having smelled it only once, Edgar felt he could put it into words.
Foul, like death.
Their appearance alone, even from afar, he felt the urge to flee, the fear washing over him, he hadn't experienced this before in his life, and he resided in Baltimore!
In his mind, Edgar threaded thoughts into stories about these creatures, while nobody would believe him, they could at least subconsciously become aware of these creatures' existence.
He won't be able to describe them down to pat, but at least it'll be enough to warn his readers.
The few he barely had.
Aware of his drinking, Edgar felt he could use it as a cover, a way of diverting unwanted attention by those who use these creatures for their own use, who'd believe an unmade writer who drank himself to sleep most of the time?
He's stopped when Paul abruptly stopped, Taylor confused as she looked to him, asking what was wrong, but in the barely lit street they were on, she saw fear in his angel eyes.
Catching on, Edgar followed his eyes, when he stopped, he saw a lone shadow in the distance.
Tall.
"Doctor, what…?" Edgar attempted to ask him, but Paul prevented him from even putting out a syllable, covering his mouth instantly.
Stopped in their tracks, the trio dared not move from their spots as the tall shadow lurked in the distance, seemingly coming towards them.
Internally, Edgar fought every urge to flee at the impending sight, wanting to curse the Doctor for failing his duties.
They're calmed when they smelled tobacco wafting through the air generated by the tall shadow, there's heavy footsteps, but they sounded like boots.
Mumbling, drunken ramblings, this wasn't a Drekker, just a drunken dock worker, having spent time in a bar before it closed, wandering the streets in his intoxicated state.
Exhaling sharply, Paul felt a soft hand on his shoulder, turning his head he sees Taylor beside him, having taken a deep breath after seeing they were mistaken.
While Paul's relieved, it only meant that the Drekker were on another hunt.
With the city having a different face at night, Paul believed they were better off returning to the comforts of indoors, when morning breaks, they'll go from there, though he reminded Edgar of the consequences of failing to follow his warnings.
"You haven't said what you're going to do about them, Doctor," Edgar pointed out that despite the limitations, Paul hadn't told them what he planned, and Paul admitted that he didn't, but now he knows for certain.
They're entering the nest when the Drekker leave for their hunts after sundown, cover it with enough rosemary to make a department store cry, drive the Drekker out of there, and with any luck, the Big One already decided they hunted their fill of the city, move on from it to another downtrodden city somewhere else.
It's not a perfect plan, but it reduced chances of needless bloodshed, even if it sounds silly to anyone listening.
Should it turn out that the Drekker came at the behest of an unsavory third-party, then of course, Paul can dispose the culprits with ease, but that's about as much as he can do, even if it means the victims don't get the justice they deserved.
"We'll return you to your home, Mr. Poe, be sure not to tell a soul what you saw or even smelled," Paul offered Mr. Poe a release from coming with them when they attempt dispelling the Drekker, and he happily accepted, as Paul began leading them through Baltimore.
Returning to his shabby home, Edgar instantly lit every candle he had, every fireplace, to drive away the Drekker, he wouldn't even bathe, wanting to keep the rosemary on his person.
Covering every window with heavy curtains, to keep him from catching a glimpse of the Big One.
"It didn't see me looking at him," Edgar asserted as he tried to calm himself, looking at his reflection in the mirror, rubbing his weary hazel eyes. "There's no way it knew it was me!"
His nerves wound tightly, Edgar tried to unwind them by plying them with alcohol, figuring it'll kill every germ within him, further drive the Drekker away from him.
Every noise in his home sent a tingly sensation up his spine, his heart stopping at every noise, fear that it might've been the Drekker, having come for him, after breaking the Doctor's request.
"It couldn't have saw me!" Edgar tried telling himself, sounding increasingly unconvinced by the minute.
Almost dropped his cut-glass cup the moment the clock strikes two in the morning, the sudden noise sending jolts of fear up his spine.
"So long as I stay in the light and smell like a brothel, it won't come after me," Edgar tells himself.
His nerves still wound tightly, Edgar's forced to sit in the lion-toed tub, trying to unwind them in hot water, if he drank anything else, he's likely to fall unconscious, never wake up, again!
Desperate, Edgar kept his rosemary-soaked clothes near the closed window in his lavatory, wanting to keep the Drekker from bursting in.
Lined six candles around him, ensuring he's covered in the light, furthering his attempts as stating alive long enough until it's over.
Pulling himself out of the lion-toed tub when his skin looked like ruffled leather, Edgar spent the remaining night writing out everything going on in his alcohol riddled mind, hoping that something came out of it, something that would give him insight on what's needed to get his foot through the doors of the publishers.
Everything the Doctor told him, it's enough to get ideas drawn from them, however, he had to control himself while writing, else it'd become too outlandish for his publishers, or even risk alerting unscrupulous kind who profited from the Drekker, somehow.
His inkwell ran dry by the time he finally stood up, his eyes latent with red veins, Edgar shuffled to his plush bed, falling onto it, his eyes automatically closing, and a snore echoes throughout his bedchamber.
He awoke sometime later, when he noticed the sunlight attempting to breach the thick curtains, and someone pounding at his front door.
Forcing himself from the comforts of his bed, Edgar collected himself, redressed in fresher clothes, heading downstairs to greet the Doctor.
Upon opening the doors, Edgar froze at the sight.
It was not the Doctor and Taylor waiting for him.
Instead, it was Annabelle.
Her red smile as she pulled her blond hair away from her face, she appeared to have brought luggage with her.
"Anna?" Edgar's miffed at his cousin's appearance.
Looking back, Annabelle gestures as she reminded him, "I told you I'd be visiting this week, have you forgotten, already?"
She noticed a pale expression in her cousin's face, that she tried asking what was wrong, but couldn't get a response from Edgar.
"I… I'm so sorry, I've been so busy, it slipped my mind," Edgar apologized for the slight, letting her through the doorway as she brought in her luggage with Edgar helping her.
Seeing the melted candles, the sooty fireplace in the den, Annabelle inquired, "What on earth's wrong with you?"
Against himself, Edgar responds, "I'm not sure, Anna."