Salem,
2018

I PUSHED THROUGH YET another crowd of annoying teenagers and held back the urge to snap their necks. I was in public, it'd be indecent. The two coffees in my hands were hot to the touch, beginning to burn the palm of my hands. Death by burning was a sucky way to go and all I could think about was the way the flames licked at your skin and scorched the flesh. My mood soured immediately and I hurried faster down the streets.

The only way I could forget about the many deaths I'd suffered now was to be distracted by the job I had acquired. Even now I felt the small glass vial press on my chest, right by the only scar to ever grace my body. Within the container was the necromancer's mist, though to everyone else it would look empty. If anyone asked I'd just say it was my mother's breath. She gave it to me on her deathbed and it was extremely sentimental and I didn't like people touching it because it made me scared. Anyone with a heart wouldn't go near it again. I didn't believe any supernatural did possess a heart, but I might as well give them the benefit of the doubt.

A crowd had gathered around the police station once more, though they all wore bizarre clothing. I frowned as I tried to read the words printed on their shirts. As soon as I comprehended them, dread filled my entire being. 'Truthseeker Squad', the television series that first turned me towards the issue at hand. It could not be a good thing to have them sitting outside. There were around ten of them, two with cameras and the others were busy setting up other equipment or simply watching. The main guy who appeared on the show was there as well, holding a stand-up mic. I watched as he cleared his throat. "How much time do we have till we go on air?"

"About forty-five seconds." Someone answered as the fiddled with a knob.

I sighed before I began walking forward. Suddenly, someone put their arm out to stop me. "Excuse me, sir!"

My eyes widened as I turned my attention to be burly man in front of me. He gave me a toothy smile, and I tried to ignore the slight yellow tint. Someone didn't brush their teeth enough. "Yes?" I asked, glancing back towards the station. I was already late, I didn't need his guy making me even more so.

"Are you an employee here at the station?" His tone made me shiver. Please do not, I swear I will scream if you make me—

"Five, four, three, two—" the man behind the camera counted down until he held up one finger, saying nothing. I was frozen as I looked into the camera. Shit.

"Welcome, Truthseekers!" He looked into the camera, his smile so wide and fake it looked like it belonged on a bad joker cosplay. "Today we are here at the Police Station in Salem, the home of the Witch Trials and a whole host of supernatural inquiries! A few days ago Salem was hit by an apparent zombie, which destroyed a coffee shop in town. In a few minutes we will be interviewing the owner, but for now we have here a citizen of Salem." He turned to me, flashing that same smile. I held back a grimace. "Tell everyone your name, citizen."

I froze as suddenly the mic was out in front of my face. The awkward pause was setting in, and I could feel he adrenaline beginning to course through my veins. Everything seemed to slow as I noticed every minute movement, every small twitch the people surrounding me made. My eyes fell on the middle of the lens, and then it felt like everything began to move normally as I spoke. "Lawrence."

"It's nice to meet you Lawrence!" The interviewer sounded so relieved I had spoken. I didn't want to know what I looked like right now. "So tell me, what do you know about the destruction of the coffee shop?"

I shrugged. Time to act. "Not much. It seemed like some guy on drugs, maybe bath salts, like the one dude down in Florida who took some and basically turned into a zombie. I mean, that guy basically ate someone's face, right? Like, that's sounds a hell of a lot like what this dude did, so it makes sense that this other guy was on it. Didn't the cops have to shoot him dead too? He wouldn't stop cause of the drugs and he had to get killed and so did this man so—"

"Okay! Thank you Lawrence! What a...splendid theory. So, you don't believe it's supernatural?"

"Supernatural? What? Are you crazy? The supernatural doesn't exist. Those are just glorified fairy tails. Speaking on those as well, they—"

The reporter clapped a hand on my back, pulling the microphone away from me. "Alrighty then! Thank you for your answers Lawrence! For now we will cut back to the studio and next time I see you will be during the interview with the owner! Keep searching, Truthseekers!"

I watched as they turned the camera off. I stepped away from the reporter and looked towards him. He barely glanced at me, a frown present on his face. He wasn't happy. It was no bother to me, I hope to never see him again. I quickly broke away from them, carefully caring the two coffees up the steps before walking into the station.

The warmth spread around me, quickly destroying the cold. I sighed slightly as I looked up, only to see Evelyn walking towards me. I looked down at her before handing her her coffee. She smiled before she leaned down and smelt it. I watched as pure joy filled her face. It was charming, in a way. As charming as a witch could be, which wasn't much.

"Thank you, Lawrence. Here, I can pay you in cash or in card, if you have Venmo or anything like that." She sounded so happy.

I gave her a blank stare. "Cash is fine."

Evelyn looked down, pulling a wad of cash out of her pocket. She gingerly handed it to me, her fingers brushing against mine for a split second. Her hand immediately recoiled as if she had just touched a burning liquid. I watched as her cheeks flushed red. Dammit, stop doing that. You can't feel that way for me. You're a despicable creature that wants nothing more than to destroy everything I love. Which isn't much, anymore.

"Thank you again." I watched her lips quirk up into a soft smile before she walked off, sipping on the coffee.

I sighed before turning to see Detective Adams looking at me. "So, have you thought of anything yet?"

Annoyance filled my being. Like I could come up with a cohesive excuse in under twelve hours. "Well, I have theories but without evidence they are just that. I can't come to a viable conclusion without a proper investigation, Detective."

He sighed, shaking his head. "Right. What do you want to do, then?"

"I'm going to go to the library."

Everyone paused. I ignored them and instead watched as Detective Adams snorted. "What purpose does that serve? Don't you have google?"

I nodded. "Yes, but I prefer to use books." That was a lie. A phone was so much easier.

Detective Adams just rolled his eyes. "Fine, but make sure you're working, else I'll send a babysitter with you."

"Thank you, Detective." I sneered. Why was the human the most annoying one here?

I turned and walked out the station. It was time to find the town records.

•••

SO, MAYBE IT WASN'T such a good idea trying to trek through Salem on my own in the cold autumn air. My coffee had grown cold, and so had I. Not to mention my phone wasn't working. Lovely. I think it might have something to do with the supernaturals. I'd never been in such a high concentration of them before, so maybe something about them messed with technology? But then again that'd have been fixed almost immediately, seeing as there were supernaturals in the work force. Or, on a darker note, it was the necromancer. How he knew about me was beyond me, but it wasn't completely off the table.

Either way, finding the library was going to be tough.

I sighed, pulling my coat tighter around my body. My eyes darted around, searching each building, looking for any sign of the library. The stone pavement beneath me was hard against the soles of my shoes. Each step felt like a slap against it, though the sound was muted by the hubbub still around me. It certainly has lessened, but was still prevalent.

A young woman brushed against me, too close for comfort. I frowned, keeping my eyes glued forward in order to avoid her gaze. The coffee in my hand was growing colder and colder. My hand wasn't fairing much better. I shook my head before noticing a human. Quickly I turned to them, reaching towards them tog te their attention. The man reeled back, though was now fixated on me.

"Sorry, but do you, perchance, know where the library is?" I sighed, trying not to shuffle too much.

He nodded. "If you're looking for it, it's only about a five minute walk down that way, it's by City Hall."

I smiled at him. "Thank you,"

The man nodded before walking away, fading into the crowd. I sighed before walking on, moving towards City Hall.

He had been right, it was about a five minute walk. It almost made me mad how close I was. However, I was here now, and it was time to do some research.

The library was a grand building, tall and large. It looked to be about three stories, with panes windows on each floor. The second floor had green velvet curtains covering the inside of it, whereas the third story had windows that were squatter, suggesting a false floor. The outside was a creamy white, though parts were cracked or stained from age. A large staircase led up to the doors. I sighed before walking up. It was a building I had known from before, or at least, built up from one. The mayor used to live here, before he inevitably died. He deserved it, the bastard was a sinner who wanted nothing more than to eradicate false witches and warlocks.

I opened the wooden doors and stepped inside. It was dark, musty, as old libraries were. Yet the fake candles lit it up, granting it an older vibe. Too close to home. The grand staircase laid behind the front desk, where a middle aged woman sat at a computer, her glasses resting on the tip of her nose. I saw I trashcan, so I threw my coffee in there. At the sound of it tiring the bottom she looked up, her light eyes like beams of light hitting me. She was human, so hopefully she wouldn't be suspicious.

"Can I help you?" She asked. Her voice was heavily accented. She was from New Jersey, the best place in the whole of the US of A.

I sighed before stepping forward. "My name is Lawrence Herwy, I'm working alongside the police to help solve a case. I was hoping it look at the town records, perhaps some old censuses?"

She nodded. "They're upstairs, in room one-fifty-two."

"Thank you." I said, turning towards the stairs.

I walked up the stairs, and memories of the past hit me. The place used to be more homey, though that was to be expected from the large span of time that occurred between my visitors here. Solomon and I had been close to the son of the mayor, James. Named after the king, he was a prideful kid. Because his father was the mayor he believed he was entitled to a lot of things, including the woman I fell in love with. Not that I cared now, but when I was being carted away he tried to flirt with her in front of me. Amantha had been too distraught to focus, and as far as I knew she hadn't married him.

The stairs creaked underneath me. I was brought back to the present. All of those people were dead. This was not the mayor's house. This was a public library.

Memories were the greatest pain to anyone. Faded images of people no longer in your life, of places that were dear once in your life yet now hold a significant amount of pain. Everyone experiences nostalgia and sadness, yet for someone like me who has hundreds of years under my belt the years before the trials are the most dear. The ones I've locked away so no one, not even myself, can access them. Yet here I am, picking the lock, trying to take a glimpse at those memories from so long ago.

My family was small, for the time. It would've been bigger but my siblings hadn't all made it to adulthood. It wasn't uncommon at the time, though now it would be seen as a terrible stroke of luck. Sickness was the main cause of death, though my eldest brother whom I hadn't had the chance to meet died from falling off a staircase when he was around two and a half. All in all, I would've had six siblings. Four sisters and two brothers. I only had the one who survived, my older brother, Solomon. As the 'eldest', (really he was the fourth born with me falling right behind him), he was allowed to inherit father's wealth.

Father was a lawyer, something that would soon prove to be my downfall once I grew older. He knew the laws like the back of his hand and would teach us them from time to time. Only Solomon listened. He dreamed of being a lawyer, following in our father's footsteps to one day be as rich as they come. I, however, had been told from the time I was a young boy that I would marry a wealthy woman, who was five years my senior. Lavern Dauntesay. She was not my type, no where close, yet I loved her in a way. She held no I'll will in my heart, at least, at the time. Now is a different story.

Needless to say my life was normal for the time. Growing up in nature, surrounded by people I loved.

I paused, suddenly jerked out of my memories. Room One-Fifty-Two was right in front of me.