After hearing Isabell’s story we ended up heading back to Mama Louise’s with Isabell, but not until after we had the Priest give her a nun's robe. We couldn’t go back there with her in lingerie, could we? Scott wasn’t too happy about the Leprechauns doing shit, but that wasn’t his job. He only kept the peace as he put it. Anything between monsters that didn’t involve humans wasn’t his domain. Despite that, he was still brought in to be a third-party mediator by monsters all the time.

“Hey, Barrett?” Scott said, gaining my attention.

“Yes?” I answered curiously.

“How did you get so good with that knife even though you’ve only had it for less than a day?” Scott asked.

“I practiced at the flat, but I can’t do much at all without a ton of focus. Though I don’t think I’m that good at it,” I replied honestly.

“Maybe I should introduce you to my witch friend if you’re that good with that thing,” he said.

“Are you going to get me drunk and put me in their house, like before with Iscariot?” I asked jokingly.

He chuckled for a second. “No, I am good friends with Iscariot, so I can do that kind of stuff with him. I can’t do that stuff with the witch, since she would most likely experiment on you,” Scott said.

I chuckled. ”She’s that bad?” I asked with a bit of disbelief.

“Yes'sir,” he replied with a smile and, as usual, he pulled out his flask and took a huge swig. I was starting to get used to his alcohol addiction, which isn’t good. Isabell started chuckling at us from up in front.

“Why do you seem so cheeky?” Scott asked curiously.

“Have you two been working together long? You seem like you’ve known each other for a good while,” Isabell asked.

“No, today is the kid's first day,” Scott said, throwing his thumb to his side in order to gesture at me.

“You two just seem to work well together,” Isabell stated.

“Thanks, but that doesn’t make the job any better,” Scott replied, as if to put down her opinion.

“That’s strange to hear from the wolf slayer of London,” she said. Scott's eyes seemed to snap at the mention of that name.

“Don’t ever call me that again, or I will kill you and leave your body for the birds,” Scott said with a threatening glare before tramping ahead of her and drinking more from his flask. Isabell slunk back next to me and seemed even more terrified now than when she was cornered in the chapel.

“What were you talking about?” I asked her.

She looked at me as we strolled and said, “Did no one tell you?” As soon as she realized I had no clue what she was talking about, she latched onto my arm, getting close to my ear. “He single-handedly murdered the werewolf population in London for some reason a few years back. Rumor says, he was avenging his old partner, or his wife. The rumors aren’t clear about which one, though. Now, no one who wants to live messes with him. It’s the only reason London is so peaceful. No one wants him to snap again,” Isabell explained.

“Jesus, he killed every werewolf in London? By himself? How many lived here?” I asked in a hushed voice so that Scott wouldn’t hear it.

“Over two thousand in total,” she said. Jesus Christ! That’s a lot, and yet, he’s scared of Mama Louise.

“Fuck,” I said out loud. It was the only word that came to mind, but it fit.

“I mean, if you truly want to, you could just ask me,” she said, changing the subject and latching onto my arm with seductive puppy dog eyes. For some reason, I felt compelled to accept. Was this a succubus trait or was she just that good at her job?

“Thanks for the offer, but sadly, I don’t have any money.” I answered honestly. “But I’m probably lucky for that…” I mumbled to myself. No offense to her but I was fairly sure that STDs weren’t taken very seriously during this time period.

“What?” she asked, confused by my incomprehensible mumbling. Letting go of my arm, she seemed offended that I had turned her down… or maybe it was my response?

“Nothing, let’s continue,” I said, taking bigger strides to move a bit faster as we went on our way to Mama Louise’s.

Behind us, a pale set of eyes watched us from the rooftop of an old building. The figure wore a newsboy cap, a white shirt, and grey pants that were held up with suspenders. He wasn’t very fashionable, but for the time period, he fit in perfectly. The figure then disappeared into the dusk light and fog. Looking up from the ground, I tried to avoid Isabell’s eyes only to see that Scott had stopped.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“We’re alone,” Scott said, before taking a protective stance as if guarding Isabell.

Looking around, I saw that what he said was true. The streets were empty, not even a rat was around. The fog that had started forming in the streets began to get thicker and thicker. Isabell latched onto my left arm even tighter as she noticed what Scott meant. I drew my knife with my right hand and was prepared to fight. Or so I thought.

The silvery glint of a blade struck Isabell from my left, revealing a shadowy figure from within the fog, jamming a dagger deep into her back before I could react. Isabell gasped in pain as she turned to dust just like the changelings had the other night had. Scott charged the figure but I was between him and it; so still in shock, I desperately swung my blade at the figure with my right hand. He ducked under my blade and effortlessly stabbed me in the stomach. The tearing of flesh, muscle, and internal organs echoed up through my chest and into my head. Gasping for air, I couldn’t think. I couldn’t move. Eventually, I thought “That hurt like hell,” before falling to my knees with the knife still wedged in my stomach. As I fell, Scott jumped in between me and the figure, but the shadowy assailant jumped backward at the last second, avoiding a kick in the face from Scott.

“You okay, kid?” Scott asked with a gritty but worried tone, as he looked back towards me and then at the figure.

“Yeah, just fucking great. If you beat him, could you let me kill him? I want to give him some payback,” I said between pained gasps for air, gritting my teeth. With every word, I felt a chill down my spine. Beads of sweat dripped from my brow. All I could do was clench the knife stuck in my gut with my left hand for dear life.

“Sure thing, kid. Use this to clean the wound. It’s high strength,” he replied, as he threw me his flask.

I shakily dumped half of the contents on my wound. The burn was gut-wrenching, so I drank the rest of the contents of the flask, attempting to numb the pain. Holding the wound as tightly as possible with my left hand, I used my right hand and teeth to rip my shirt to tie around the wound and increase pressure. While I was tending to my wounds, Scott had started to fight our attacker under the streetlamp, who was revealed to be a man in his late twenties. Though, he looked to be a street boxer, or a fighter of some kind.

Scott began throwing punches at the man, but he was always a step away. It must have known that his gloves were lined with silver, or it just didn’t want to be hit. Once the figure saw an opening, he punched Scott in the jaw. Stumbling back for a moment, Scott almost looked impressed.

“You can hit,” Scott remarked respectfully before spitting out a small bit of blood from his lip.

“Well, you can take a hit,” the man said in a thick Welsh accent.

“I'm a drunk, I don’t feel much anymore,” Scott replied sassily.

“Perhaps, but do you know who or what I am?” the man asked.

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Scott said before running towards the figure. But it was ready, and as Scott threw out a punch with his right hand, it dodged to the right. Our attacker grabbed his wrist and struck out its palm into Scott’s stomach, flipping him onto his back with practically no effort. Landing with a grunt, Scott stopped moving.

“Stay down for a moment while I get my knife,” the man said, as it began sauntering towards me.

“Who are you?” I asked as I scooted back towards one of the buildings. Holding my knife with my right hand, I extended it towards him threateningly, while my left hand desperately held the other knife in my stomach. Beads of sweat began pouring down my face as I do, and I can feel my arm getting heavier.

“Ah, yes. I am in a new body so you wouldn’t recognize me. I am the changeling that escaped from you before, and now it’s time for you to pay for killing my kin,” the man said, kicking the knife from my hand and stomping the same foot down on my left hand. His foot pushed the knife even farther into my gut, as blood gushed out. I yelled in agony before finally passing out.

***

Scott came to his senses as he witnessed Lou yell and fall on his side. As he lay there, trying to get up, a person wearing a white mask with crimson tear-stains dripping from the eye slits and long mud-stained silver hair rushed in from the dense fog. Grabbing the changeling by the back of the neck, the masked man threw him away from me with ease. On his hip was an arming sword, barely hidden under the side of his torn and tattered coat. His arms and shins bore plate armor that glowed a faint purple' as if they were magical.

“What the hell!? Who are you?” the changeling asked, as he got up, but the masked man said nothing. He only drew his sword dramatically and strided towards the changeling with a haunting aura. The changeling, realizing that it probably didn’t stand a chance, got up and ran away, morphing into a cat as it made its escape. The masked man stopped his stride as soon as the changeling was beyond his sight. Because Scott was awake, he saw most of it. Sitting up as the masked man strolled up to him, Scott tried to look as if he were minding his own business in an attempt to avoid him.

“Forget you saw anything, for your own sake, if not his,” the masked man said to Scott, before gesturing at me and disappearing into the fog like a phantom.

Quickly standing up, Scott ran over to my body. “Please stay alive till I can get you help,” he said, as he picked me up and carried me off into the foggy London streets. My blood dripped slowly onto his coat, as his shoes clicked on the cobblestone s