Hansel & Gretel

Death looked at me straight in the eye as a cold sweat trickles down my spine. With hollow eyes, a crimson rain floating around it as the mist blankets us in an inescapable embrace. Death calls out to me, with a call so elusive I could barely hear it. Let me devour you. Thoughts of Eve flash my mind, when Death took her in the form of searing heat, an inferno I couldn't save her from. "I want to see her again…" A whisper escapes my mouth, my only desire, tucked away in the depths of my memory. Necromancy.

The Fowl freezes, seemingly unsure as to whether I was worth feasting on or not. Like a flower blooming, the flesh on its face starts to open up, revealing hundreds of rows of sharp jagged teeth. A blast is heard behind it as blood scatters, dense pellets that come soaring through the air. It screeches, whipping its elongated tongue in the air.

"Over here!" A woman calls out, coming from within the mist. "Hurry!"

I sprint, leaping over Wallace's body as the Fowl writhes above me. It thrashes, its wings now flapping erratically as I duck underneath them. The station appears from within the mist, a woman in a red dress carrying a shotgun gesturing frantically for me to get inside. I rush through as she slams the door behind us, the loud shrieking still audible within the walls.

"Hands up where I can see them." A deep, husky voice calls out, followed by the sound of a gun being loaded. I look up with heaving breaths, arms in the air. Three people stand in front of me, guns at the ready as they eye me head to toe. The biggest of the group, a line traced on his cleanly cut hair stood above me, rifle in hand. "Give me a reason not to blow your head off right here and now."

I don't flinch, no fear present within me. A man holding me at gunpoint was nothing compared to the horrors I've faced in my line of work, nothing compared to those that lie waiting outside. "What good will that do you?" I speak, sarcasm in my voice. He was trembling, trying hard to keep it from showing. Finger on the trigger, he tenses for a split second.

He sighs, taking a long deep breath before speaking. "You're not one of them are you?" The gun is lowered, the rattling of the clip accompanying his slow movements. The other two follow, lowering their weapons to their holsters. He extends a hand, introducing himself in the process. "Officer Darren Murphy, at your service."

Officer? I shake his hand and introduce myself as well, using my real name this time. "Michael Graves." My eyes catch the other two, talking to each other. One of them, a gaunt man, eyes me with suspicion. The other argues, mumbling incoherently as her red dress flutters around. "What are they talking about?"

"You, most likely." He shrugs as he takes a seat on the front desk, putting his rifle at rest beside him. "As you know, strangers aren't the best people to trust currently, and it sadly includes you." Darren nudges his head to the window, the shrieking now mute. "That was Wallace, wasn't it?"

I nod, guilt flooding me as I thought about him getting torn apart right in front of my eyes.

"That idiot. I told him he didn't need to worry about Gretel." His head lowers, face scrunched up as he ponders on the loss of Wallace. The loss of a comrade.

"Who's Gretel?" I ask, an idea coming into mind. "Could it be her?" I point towards the woman, startled at the fact that I was referring to her out of the blue. Could it be?

She speaks, the same voice that called out to me as I ran to the station door. "Yes, that would be me." Gretel pulls the man behind her who seemed reluctant to acknowledge me. "And this is Hansel."

"Gretel, Mother will kill us!" He whispers frantically, which allowed me to overhear everything. "He is dangerous!"

I pull my revolver out and point it at the two of them, stepping backwards to add up to our distance from one another. Darren pulls out his rifle, pointing it at me as his face turns into one of genuine confusion. "What the fuck are you doing Graves?"

Idiot. "Why don't you tell him why I'm like this Gretel?" My finger itches, a few moments away from squeezing the trigger. "I bet they've been a big help to you, haven't they?" I ask Darren, still pointing the revolver at the two.

"Yes, they have. I'm not fucking around here Graves! Put the gun down or I'm putting you down!" He shouts a warning as the other two don't move, frozen in place. "Graves, I'm warning you!"

"Darren, don't!" Gretel commands, stepping in between the two of us. "He has reason to get mad." She turns to look at me, deep red eyes piercing mine. "I need your help Michael."

Help?! "You want my help?! After attempting to kill us for the past few days?!" I aim the gun for her head, anger boiling within me. "You think I'm a fucking joke?!"

Hansel stirs, black veins appearing on his skin. "Get away from my sister!" His eyes turn pitch black, his ears extending into a point. He snarls, growling as sharp pointed teeth appear. Dark brown fur protrude in patches for his skin, giving him a dog-like appearance. Werewolf. "I'll tear you apart!"

"Hansel, no! He's the only one who can stop them!" Gretel speaks as claws appear on the tips of Hansel's fingers. "Listen to me, please!"

"What the fuck…" Darren speaks, now pointing the gun at Hansel. "You're a monster too?"

Monster. "Silver bullets, one shot would be more than enough to put you down." I say, aiming at Hansel, now a werewolf in front of me. "So, give me a reason not to put you guys down right here and now."