Viator

As Harry rented a room at a motel, not a bad one but not the best either, Harry realized he was quite glad Blaise had decided to come with him to the States. One of the things he hadn’t been looking forward to was the possible loneliness he’d have to deal with. Luckily, that wasn’t an issue anymore.

“Enchanted ID’s my love!” Harry exclaimed as he opened the door to their motel room.

“Drama queen.” Blaise muttered. “Well, what do we have?”

“Four victims so far. Different ages, but all under fourteen. They all fell ill around the same time, all at home before being taken to the same hospital.”

“Well, it can’t be a lamia.” Blaise said, pulling out a notepad and pen.

“We can also rule out a duende.” Harry added, pulling out the notes he had taken when he’d noticed the case.

“One of the Fair Folk, perhaps?” Blaise suggested. “A Bwbach, or perhaps a Gwyll? If they had been wronged?”

“Could be.” Harry said, after thinking on it. “Well, you down for some diner food? Good chance we might catch some info from gossip.”

As Harry and Blaise were eating their food, a burger and pancakes respectively, Harry worked on getting access to the hospital’s digital records, while Blaise was taking notes on anything that sounded suspicious and related to the case. Once they had finished eating, Blaise spoke.

“I’ve found another common thread between the victims.” Blaise began. “Based off what the diner patrons are saying, they all had an at home doctor’s visit at night.”

“Well, I found something similar.” Harry said spinning his laptop around for Blaise to see. “I managed to get access to the vics digital records at the hospital. Notice something odd?”

“They all have the same attending nurse on the night shift.”

“Uh-huh. Odd, ain’t it?”

“Perhaps a witch?”

“Could fit. Might be some kinda hexbag.”

“Well, what’s our cover going to be?”

“I was thinking journos. Cops or Feds wouldn’t really make sense.”

“Independent or corporate?”

“Independent would probably be best. Easier to fake.”

After a quick visit to the motel, to get dressed appropriately, Harry and Blaise found themselves outside the house of the mother of the most recent victim, Melissa Thomas.

“Right, I’m thinking you take point on the interview, I’ll take a look around the house.”

Walking up to the front door, Blaise knocked on it, getting a rapid response.

“Hello?” Mrs. Thomas asked. She had clearly been losing sleep, based on the bags under her eyes, and the frazzled look she had on.

“Mrs. Thomas? I was wondering if you might allow us to interview you? We heard about the truly awful situation you’ve found yourself in and were hoping you might agree to it.”

“Who are you? I told the last reporters I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m Benjamin Arnold, this is my coworker, Alec MacArthur. We’re from an independent publication, Illness Inquirer, and we’re doing a piece on some similar cases.”

“Similar cases? So, someone might know what’s wrong with my Donny?” She asked, the hope in her voice almost painful.

“It’s just that we’ve noticed a pattern, but it might help the doctors.”

“Please, come in. Anything if it’ll help my son.”

As Blaise was interviewing her, Harry was taking a look around the living room. Everything seemed normal, but some parts of the floor were a touch darker than others. When Blaise started spouting off theories, Harry cut in.

“So sorry Mrs. Thomas, but would you mind if I used your restroom?”

“Of course, it’s just up the stairs, first door to the left.” She replied, turning back to Blaise, face shining in desperation.

Walking up the stairs, Harry took note of similar discolorations on the railing as he’d seen on the floor. Ignoring the door to the restroom, Harry checked the other closest door. Nothing. The one parallel to it. Jackpot!

Opening the door, after a quick silencing charm, Harry slipped into the kid's room. Nothing seemed that weird on the surface, and when he lifted the mattress slightly, he didn’t see any hexbags, nor were there any in the closet.

After checking the side table, he turned and caught sight of the window sill. In the center was a palm-sized section of rotting wood. Taking a quick photo of it, Harry exited the room, heading back down the stairs. As though sensing that he had found something, Blaise began ending the interview.

“Thank you for talking to us, Mrs. Thomas. We’ll be contacting the medical professionals with our concerns, but you’ll be the first to hear from us if we publish the article beforehand.”

“Thank you, it’s just so relieving to have someone take my concerns seriously.”

As they were walking back to where Harry had parked his bike, they discussed their findings.

“God, you’re so hot when you go all interrogator.” Harry said, giving Blaise’s cheek a quick peck. “But really darl’ Sick Building Syndrome?”

“Well, it gave her someone other than herself to blame. Though she is a bit unstable. She thinks it’s the vaccines he got recently. Other than that, Donald seems to have been a rather healthy twelve year old, with no prior history of medical issues.”

“Interesting. Almost as interesting as the patch of rotten wood on the window sill in the kid’s room.”

“Did you get a photo?”

“Of course.” Harry replied, showing Blaise the image.

“Hm. Palm sized. You can just about discern finger marks as well. Rather slender fingers.”

“Pretty sure we can rule out witch.”

“Quite right. Along with any chance of it being a dryad.”

“Well, guess we’ll have to hit the books.”

When they returned to their motel, Harry immediately opened his laptop, while Blaise started rifling through the books Harry had taken out earlier that day. Eventually, it got late enough that Harry took a quick break from research to pop out and get some takeout.

“You dig up anything?” Harry asked as he walked back into the room, putting the pizza boxes on the motel kitchenette counter. “I got you a capricciosa by the way.”

“Thank you, meraviglia. As for the information, we can rule out most nature-based creatures, though a Leshy is still viable. They prefer to kidnap the children first, but they can drain the life force of anything biotic to sustain themselves. It might also be a strigoi, given the vitality decline in the victims, though I can’t quite figure out how the rotten wood factors in.” Blaise recited, seeming rather puzzled as he was eating the pizza.

“Oh my God! Eastern Europe!” Harry exclaimed, rushing to check his journal, as well as a few of the books strewn about the room.

“Sorry, what?”

“I was focusing on Western European creatures and lore, when I should have thought about Eastern Europe.”

“I take it the strigoi reminded you of something, dear?”

“Yes, if I can just… ah-hah! Not the strigoi, but the shtriga! They feed on spiritus vitae, which is something that’s common to living matter, like wood!”

“And they usually take the form of an old woman, or a… doctor.”

“And the vics all have the same nurse on the night shift!”

“The weakness? Per this tome they have none.”

“Yeah, but that book was written in, what? Seventy-fourty-two? They’re weak to consecrated iron. Catch is, they can only be killed when they’re feeding.”

“I take it you happen to have consecrated iron?” Blaise asked, eyebrow cocked.

“’Course I do. Got Gabe to consecrate a crap ton a while back.”

“Well, time to commit a murder in the one place where it might be prevented.”

Nightfall found Harry and Blaise sneaking around the hospital, first into the employee-only rooms to find what order the shtriga went to the victims’ rooms, then looking for the pediatric ward which was made far simpler when they found a map of the hospital.

Luck had clearly decided to favor them that day, as the victim who she was feeding on was in the room furthest from most of the people in the building.

“Darl’ you got the repellent charms?”

“Of course.”

As Blaise handled the charms to deter other people, Harry cast a silencing charm on the door, as well as the shotgun he was holding, before chambering one of the iron bullets that Gabriel had consecrated.

Slowly opening the door, Harry cocked the shotgun, carefully taking aim before giving a short, sharp whistle.

With the shtriga’s face suddenly facing him, Harry pulled the trigger, hitting it in the head. Watching as it shriveled into nothing, Harry checked on the child that was being fed on. Seeing that he was starting to wake up, Harry cast a quick sleeping charm on him.

If he were lucky the kid would think it was a particularly vivid nightmare. As soon as Blaise dismantled the spells he had set up, Harry popped them both back into their motel room.

“Well, that went well.”

“And it was your first Hunt! A resounding success like this deserves a celebration! What do you propose?” Harry exclaimed, twirling Blaise about.

“Well, there is only one bed.” Blaise answered, a suggestive look aimed at Harry.

“Lead the way, mi amor.”