The Twentieth Chapter

This was probably the worst day of his twenty-three years of existence.

Why is that when the Samhain is nearing, more bloody occurrences are unexpectedly happening? Was this a coincidence?

No. He once heard from a World War II veteran way back in England that nothing in this world is a coincidence. Everything happens for a reason.

And who the hell is the Blood Mistress? Is she a woman? Or a man hiding beneath the cloak of a woman? Either way, this person is wholly lunatic and psychotic.

‘I will mercilessly skin that bitch alive if ever I found out who she is!’

He was still staring at Henriz’ mangled body. If not for his werewolf eyesight, he couldn’t recognize his long-time male friend.

A red rose was put between Henriz’s teeth as seen in his decapitated head.

‘A branding of the Blood Mistress to her victims.’

Cyrill mused. He was not crying, but his heart was indeed wailing for a time. He had lost a mother before…now his dear friend.