Chapter 4: Who Knew It Would Be Them

The library was empty except for us. Outside, streetlights flickered and people hurried home. Inside, just Amelia flipping pages and the old oak table creaking. The quiet made my skin itch; too many secrets in this town were begging to spill out.

I watched her read, lost in my thoughts. The desk lamp caught her just right, the way her auburn hair fell across her face, how she'd brush it back without thinking. Those damn freckles scattered across her nose drove me crazy. Little details I couldn't stop noticing, didn't want to stop noticing. My hands itched to brush that stubborn strand of hair behind her ear, to trace those freckles with my thumb.

She bit her lower lip, deep in concentration. Something in my chest tightened. The quiet intensity she had, the fire in her eyes when she found something important, it stirred something in me I thought I'd buried years ago. Something dangerous. Something that made me want to pull her close, keep her safe, make her mine.

Each time she looked up, those hazel eyes hit me like a punch to the gut. I found myself shifting closer, making excuses to lean in, to catch her scent—old books and vanilla and something uniquely her. My jaw clenched every time another person walked by, my body tensing without meaning to. Protective. Possessive. Wanting.

She had no idea what she did to me. How she made me feel alive again after years of nothing but Eldermere's shadows. How watching her research reminded me of who I used to be, before this town's darkness became my burden. How much I wanted to shield her from that same darkness, even while knowing I needed her help to fight it.

I forced myself to look away, to focus on the task. But my eyes kept drifting back, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. And deep down, I knew I was already in too deep.

"Found anything?" I managed to ask, my voice rougher than I meant it to be.

She looked up, eyes bright. "There's this woman named Elara. Sort of a witch back in the 1800s. People said she talked to spirits, blaming her when folks went missing." She turned another page. "She did rituals for power. Might've started a cult that's still around."

The name hit me hard. "Elara wasn't just stories," I said quietly. "She's part of this place. Cursed the town when they turned on her. Some say she still haunts the woods."

"You believe that?" Amelia asked.

I ran my hand through my hair. "Truth gets weird here. But whatever's happening now feels connected to her somehow."

Her fingers traced the page. "If her cult's still active, it explains everything. The missing people, the rituals..." She paused. "Jacob."

That name felt like a knife. Some kids out there are scared while we read dusty books. "We're running out of time," I said, leaning in. "Need to figure out what these people want. Fast."

A loud knock made us jump.

"Stay put," I told her, already moving. My hand found my hidden knife as I reached the door.

Sam stood there sweating. "Zack. We got trouble."

"What kind?"

"Ethan called. Spotted some hooded guys by the old mill. Found something bad."

My heart picked up. "How bad?"

"Don't know details. But it isn't good."

I looked at Amelia. "You're coming with us."

"What?" Sam squeaked. "That's crazy-"

"She knows this stuff. We need her."

Amelia grabbed her bag. "I'm going."

"Stay close," I told her as we left.

The streets were dead quiet except for our footsteps. The air felt heavy and wrong. Lantern light flickered through the trees near the mill. I held up my hand to stop.

We crept closer through the damp underbrush. The old mill loomed behind them, its broken windows like dead eyes watching. Moonlight caught the wet stone walls, making them gleam like old bones. The clearing itself was ancient; I recognised those standing stones from local legends, now arranged in a perfect circle around a crude altar.

My stomach turned when I saw who was there. Mayor Thompson's wife, Sarah, led the chanting, her hood pulled back just enough that I caught her face in the firelight. Next to her, Doc Miller's hands were raised, covered in something dark that made me sick to look at. Even spotted old Mrs. Wesley from the flower shop; her usual sweet grandma act is gone, replaced by something hungry and wrong.

The altar itself was rough stone, carved with symbols that hurt to look at too long. Blood—fresh blood—ran down its sides. Candles burnt black at each corner, their flames too tall, too steady in the night air. Jacob lay across it, his wrists and ankles bound with a rope that looked like it was moving on its own. His school jacket was torn, and his face was bruised. His eyes were wide with pure terror as he struggled against the binds.

Their chanting grew louder, not Latin, not any language I knew. It made my teeth ache just hearing it. They'd drawn a circle around the altar with white powder—salt maybe—or something worse. Inside it, symbols glowed with a sickly green light that pulsed like a heartbeat.

Doc Miller pulled out a knife, old, curved, its blade covered in rust-colored stains. Sarah Thompson held up some kind of bone charm, swinging it over Jacob as their voices reached a fever pitch. The air felt wrong, heavy with something that didn't belong in this world. Even the shadows seemed to move on their own, reaching toward the altar like hungry fingers.

I counted twelve fuckers in total. Twelve people I'd known for years, people who smiled and waved on Main Street, now transformed into something straight out of a nightmare. And there, at the edge of the circle, stood a figure taller than the rest, wearing robes of deep crimson instead of black. They turned slightly, and I caught a glimpse of familiar grey hair under the hood.

"Jesus," I heard Sam whisper beside me. "That's Judge Carson."

The knowledge hit like ice water. The judge had been in charge of investigating the recent disappearances. Now we knew why they'd never found anything.

"What are they doing?" Amelia whispered, her voice shaking.

"Nothing good," I growled, feeling my fangs start to descend. I'd kept this part of me hidden for decades. But watching them about to sacrifice Jacob, I knew tonight my secret would come out. "We're stopping it."

Sam gripped his flashlight. "How?"

"Grab the kid and run. Quick, if we can. Loud if we have to." My muscles coiled, ready. The hunger I always kept locked down clawed at my chest.

Amelia clutched her bag tight but stood firm. Something primal in me approved of her courage.

"Three... two... one."

We burst forward. The idiots spun around, and their chanting died. Then I let go.

The world slowed. In the space between heartbeats, I moved. My hand punched through the first fucker's chest. Blood sprayed. Before his body hit the ground, I'd already torn out three more throats. They couldn't even scream.

I heard Amelia gasp behind me. Sam dropped his flashlight. But I couldn't stop. My vision went red as I tore through the circle. Bodies dropped like leaves. When Judge Carson tried to run, I caught him mid-step and ripped his head clean off.

When I finally stopped, twelve bodies lay scattered in the clearing. Only the sound of dripping blood broke the silence. I turned to face my friends and saw the horror in their eyes. Amelia's hand covered her mouth; Sam looked ready to faint.

I met their eyes one by one. "Forget what you saw," I commanded, pushing power into my voice. "I fought them off. They ran. That's all you remember."

Their faces went blank, then cleared. I quickly wiped Jacob's memory too before untying him.

"Thank God," Amelia said, rushing to help Jacob. "They just scattered when we charged in."

I nodded, relief flooding me as I made sure we were well away from the clearing so they didn't see the bodies. As my compulsion took hold, I had to remind myself to come back later to burn every last body lying dead on the ground now. Inside me another war is waging, my dead eyes pounding. The monster was out now. No going back now. My instincts that were dormant for years have awakened; now all those who betray me and this town will know fear.

"Let's get him home," I said quietly, trying to ignore the blood on my hands.

Watch out, for Zackary Lawson, Vampire Detective, is coming for you.