"Out."

The lover put the cup down on the nightstand and rushed out the room, wrapping the blanket around herself as she passed Mr Marius. He closed the door after her. When he turned to look at Mirabela again, she was facing him, robe still open but her expression commanded his eyes to look at hers, to explain and quickly.

For all the concerning things that took place in Ferești - the homeless encampment, the drug dealers, a werewolf clan and a club owned by a vampire - violent crimes like murder almost never happened. Everything was hidden, under the table, known only by a select few. You needn't worry about going on your morning commute and seeing dead bodies in the grass.

When Mirabela and Bălașa quarrelled, it was only between them and their covens, their goons and servants. They were like concubines in a harem, poisoning and blackmailing and sabotaging each-other without the emperor knowing. The citizens of Ferești and Văleni had no fault for living around them. Not even Bălașa would stoop so low as to kill someone who had nothing to do with Mirabela. Marius at least hoped so.

The victims were Sabina Cernescu, 37 years old, her husband Matei Cernescu, 40 years old, and their son, Yannis Cernescu, 7 years old. They were found at the edge of the woods, on the side of a small road leading out of town towards Hidiș and Călimari, before it blended into the larger express way. It was a small neighbourhood road, circulated by a couple cars at most.

They had all been shot in the head, one bullet each. Matei and Yannis were shot from the back, and Sabina from the front, in the forehead. They died sometime after midnight, and were found by drivers the next morning.

Save for the bullets, their bodies were completely intact. No signs of struggle or violence, clothes unmoved, only the morning dew on them. Nothing missing from their persons, their car or their apartment in the town center. All the money in Sabina's purse and her gold earrings were still there.

Their car was parked by a random house one street away from the crime scene, and they seemed to have gone to that location willingly. For a yet unknown reason, the Cernescu family got up in the middle of the night, went to a quiet street at the edge of town, and were all executed.

Garofița breathed out a sigh of relief when she found out it took place on the other side of town, pretty far from her house. Then she felt awful for feeling relieved.

"Who were they, anyway?" Bea asked, brushing out Garofița's hair.

"They moved here pretty recently." Vitalis said. "The husband gave me change a couple times." She poured out part of her bottle directly onto the ground. "May they rest in peace."

Mr Gliga let out a gross cough. "You think it was the other vamp lady?"

"I doubt it." Vitalis shrugged. "Don't see why she would do it."

Ferești was in much agitation as soon as the bodies were discovered. A lot of kids were pulled out of school that morning, families huddling in their homes, for who knows what is still walking around their streets? The shelter was on lockdown like the encampment. Those who were already at work took the news with varying degrees of fear and annoyance.

The town hall, a pale yellow building with auburn roofs and red geraniums by the front entrance, was a bubbling cauldron of gossip and speculation. Everybody's first thought was the vampires.

"One good day, can I have one fucking good day?!" Florin Ghindea, the mayor of Ferești for the 2nd term in a row, said as he stomped his way to his office.

"Sir, wait-" His secretary, Andrada Popa, ran to keep her, her heels tangling in the old green moquette that taped the floor.

"Not now, Andra!" He huffed and puffed, reaching for the handle of the door to his office. He realised as he was turning it that it was already open.

"Hello, Florin!" Simona smiled from behind his desk, sitting on his chair.

Florin froze in the doorway.

"That's what I wanted to tell you, Sir..." Andrada whispered behind him, hiding half her face behind a folder of papers.

Simona smiled, cocking her head to the side to see Andrada better. She looked perfectly angelic, with big blue eyes and her blonde hair standing out against the dark brown of the leather chair.

Florin coughed, clearing his clean throat, and shut the door. Andrada's heels could be heard on the other side as she rushed away.

"What do you want?" He said, trying to make his voice harsh.

"A 'hello' would be nice." She said, bouncing a leg. She sat with her legs crossed.

"Hello." He said.

She smiled, little lines forming under her big, rounded eyes.

Florin made his way to his desk and Simona stood up at the same time, winding like a cat. She wore a white shirt with short sleeves and ruching along the shoulder seams, a navy-blue pencil skirt and pale dark pantyhose, almost purple. He glanced down along her legs and saw cherry-red pumps on her feet.

"How are you doing, Florin?" She asked, standing close by the desk.

"Just tell me what you want." He cut her off.

She smiled patiently. No, amused.

Simona Berindean worked at the town hall ever since she graduated school. Knew everybody and everything. Back when he was a lowly clerk, a glorified mailman, Florin found her very pretty. After he won his first term she came onto him, which only stroked his ego further. Now he could not get rid of her.

If he didn't know any better, he would have thought she wasn't human. But she was. She just did the bidding of someone inhuman.

"You've heard of the murder that took place last night, haven't you?" She asked, fingers tracing along the edge of the desk. He glared at them. First his chair, now his desk. He pulled his stationary closer to himself like a child.

"Who didn't?" He asked back. "Did that other vamp woman do it?"

"We don't know yet." She said, honest. "Mirabela and Mr Bujor, you know him, asked me to check the public records, to find more about the victims."

"You don't know them already?" He laughed. "I thought the vamp got eyes and ears everywhere."

She just smiled. "First thing in the morning, I made my way to Paula Hodișan, you definitely know her-" Florin's eye twitched. "- and asked her for the census records, but it looks like they have been moved. How strange."

"It's not what you think." Florin said. "They have been temporarily moved to Trifan's office down the hall. Something about a metal shelf buckling under the weight." He waved his hand dismissively. "We'll have to order a new one. Should have done it sooner, anyways."

Simona hummed, nodding slowly. She already knew all that, she just wanted to see what he would say.

"You would have known if you asked Paula yourself." He commented, quickly looking at her, then back down at the desk.

Simona smiled with teeth. "And lose the opportunity to pay you a visit?"

Florin told himself she had a hooked nose and an overbite, she shouldn't have been as pretty as she was, but his stupid body warmed up nonetheless upon seeing her smile. He was his own worst enemy.

He tried to pick a pen and get to work, to ignore her. It disappeared from between his fingers, snatched away, and he stared at his hand for a moment before it registered.

He looked up and Simona was closer than he anticipated, crowding him against his chair. The sun shone from the window behind her, making her look darker than she was. She held the pen up, at such an angle he thought for an alarming second that she was about to stab him.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"Nothing." He quickly said.

She chuckled, twirling the pen around. "Gosh, do we scare you that badly?" She said, we instead of I. Everything was deliberate, everything was a trap.

He chose what he thought was the safest answer, which was none.

She leaned closer.

"Nothing happens without telling me, understood?" She began to say, her smile gradually fading. "I don't care if you move a flower pot around the windowsill, I must know about it. Do not forget who keeps you here."

Florin furrowed his brows and was about to say something, when his chair suddenly shook. She slammed her hand against it, making him lean backwards.

"Both of us work for Mirabela." She said over him, eyes blue like ice. "To do my job well, I need others to do their jobs properly too."

"The files are down the hall..." He said, wishing he could adjust the tie around his neck, suddenly too tight.

"I know that."

"Then what else do you want?"

Simona's eyes flicked up and down his features. He pressed back against his chair, fruitlessly trying to put some distance between them, sweat starting to bead his temple.

"Knock it off." He growled.

"What?" She asked. "You'd rather I was someone else?" She grinned, gums showing and eyes crinkled.

She straightened herself smoothly, taking her hand away and making him shake in his chair again as it returned into position.

Simona looked at the items on his desk: a Romanian flag, a decorative pencil holder where she tossed the pen, and a photo frame. She picked it up, wrapping slender fingers around it slowly.

"Did you enjoy the Maldives?" She asked.

"If you don't need anything else from me, then leave." He said.

"Your wife is so pretty, Florin. What a shame..."

"Get out of my office."

"You like brunettes." She sighed. "I never stood a chance."

"Get. Out."

"Oh, by the way, I am leaving early this afternoon. I'm bartending."

Florin's head shot up, blinking several times. "Tonight?"

"Yeah."

"While the murder investigation is taking place?"

"So?"

Florin sighed.

Garofița watched the encampment fill up with people. It was either the camp or the crowded shelter. Like her, not every homeless person stayed there all the time. She also noticed the definition of homelessness was fluid. Some people had nothing but tents or shacks or abandoned buildings, while others could afford to spend the night on someone's couch or in someone's bed. A few lived out of the cheap motel at the edge of town, too close for comfort to the crime scene.

Garofița saw Roxi, Gabriel, Mr Marius and Mr Eduard arrive at the encampment, followed by a couple policemen in uniforms. The last two waited behind the gate. Inside the camp, everybody was organized to enter one of the buildings surrounding the inner courtyard, in one of the ground-floor apartments.

"We're being interrogated?" Garofița quietly asked.

"Yep." Vitalis said.

"They think somebody here did it...?"

"Maybe." She shrugged. "Doubt it, though. Nobody would be that stupid. If anything, we're more likely to be the murder victims than the murderers."

Garofița kept her eyes to the ground.

"Where were you last night?" was the first question.

"Asleep."

"Sleeping."

"Sleeping with a, b, c."

"Sleeping at x, y, z."

"I'd say don't worry about it, but it's not the time for jokes. I stayed the night with Coca, drinking and snorting a little bit."

"I was working on the highway between Ferești and Văleni. I got picked up by an old fart and after dealing with him for an hour, I went to my friend's house and slept there. She lives across the street from the Catholic church."

"I was supposed to go pick up a... let's say 'package'. But my boy called me last minute to say that he got cold feet, so I just stayed here and watched youtube until I passed out."

"I was out with my buddy along the main street until, ooh damn, I think 3am. I woke up in his brother's apartment."

"Sleeping in the tent over there."

"Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?" was the second question.

"No."

"Sorry, no."

"The day before, actually. There was this guy I've never seen before walking around town. I passed by him like 4 times, he was pacing around the town center or something. I didn't think much about it until now."

"Nothing weirder than usual."

"Not me, but Coca told me that he saw a car he didn't recognize driving all around Ferești, small streets and everything. He was paranoid as fuck that an old friend-turned-enemy made up his mind to kill him. I had to hold him until he calmed down. It was really awkward."

"I tried to pick up another client in the town center on my way to my friend. He seemed like he needed a hug, so easy money, right? But as I got closer I changed my mind. He looked high out of his mind, like, 'in another dimension' high. And he kept fiddling with something in his jacket. I looked back at him as I walked away and a second guy joined him, then they left... Was that the murderer...?"

"Before I fell asleep I heard this noise, like two drunks arguing as they walked down the street. It was the voices of two men and they were shouting at each-other like crazy. I think it was around... 2 or 3 in the morning?"

"I'm very sorry, but I don't remember much. My buddy and his brother say I apparently got into an argument with a stranger, but I don't remember any of it. One moment I was chugging beer, the next it was morning."

"I remember waking up at one point, I think at 3 or 4 am. There was a lot of shouting down the street."

Garofița's turn was after a mother and her daughter, the former waiting for the latter to step outside.

"Deni, what did you tell them?" The mom asked as they walked away.

"That we were asleep." The daughter shrugged. "It's the truth, no?"

"Vitalis, what do I tell them?" Garofița asked, squeezing her own hands.

"You tell them the truth. Duh." She shrugged.

The building was a typical communist apartment block, cold walls and chipping paint even when people lived there. The doors were long gone and the metal railing that framed the staircase was black with rust. The wall used to be a pale coral-orange. They entered through the backdoor, leading to the communal yard that became the encampment. The front door was blocked off with planks and old newspapers. They could see the shadows of people walking by on the street beyond it.

It reminded Garofița of her escapade in Văleni, except the old empty apartment looked (only a little) more finished. Should she tell them about that? Better not.

There were a bunch of chairs and a table, and a stack of lumber in a corner covered by a plastic sheet. Mr Marius was sitting down and Mr Eduard was standing up. He was so tall it was scary.

Garofița took one of the seats and Vitalis the other. Marius smiled, his moustache moving up along with the corners of his lips. He wore a very nice leather jacket and a watch that looked expensive, and lacquered shoes.

"How are you doin', kid?" He asked.

"I'm good! Thank you." She replied.

"Do you need anything?" Eduard asked.

"N-Not right now."

"Alright. Here we go. Where were you last night? What were you doin'?"

"At home, uhm, in the house I squat in."

"Where's that?"

"Uh, by the periphery with the forest, close to, uhm, Mrs Delia's store."

Vitalis nodded in confirmation, sucking on her cigarette. Garofița looked at her, then back at the men.

"Alright. Did you notice anythin' out of the ordinary?"

"Uhm, last night, I-I'm not sure what time it was but it was really dark, I heard weird sounds coming from the forest. Like, this flat voice going 'Help. Help. Help.', far off in the distance and that kept going further and further away, in the direction of Mrs Delia's store."

"A human voice?" Mr Marius asked.

"I'm not sure. It was, like, uhm, like a bird? Like the cadence, I think. But instead of bird sounds it was the word 'help'. If that makes sense."

"It does, don't worry." He said as he wrote down on a paper.

"Maybe it was a skin-walker?" She asked, trying to glance at Mr Eduard without being noticed.

"Maybe!" Eduard said, scratching the side of his face. "Although they're not the only things that can mimic voices."

"What kind of voice was it?" Marius asked. "Male? Female?"

"I couldn't tell." She said. "Kind of male."

Eduard pursed his lips and shrugged.

"I've also seen a dog walking around the forest. A really big shepherd dog, all dirty and... mossy, kinda." She said.

"Oh, I know that one!" Eduard said. "It's benevolent. Or at least neutral."

"I can give you a gun if it makes you feel more safe." Marius casually said. "I'm jokin'."

Garofița didn't even have time to react.

"What's your name, again?"

"Garofița Gavrilescu..."

He stared at the paper for a moment. Garofița shrank in her chair. Did he recognize her name?

"Let's go with... G.G." Marius said.

"We already have a Gigi, though." Vitalis said.

"Shit, you're right..." He said. "Ga... GaGa."

"Lady Gaga!" Eduard laughed.

"Garo, you're Lady Gaga for the day." Marius smiled as he wrote it down.

"Alright!" Garofița giggled.

"Alright, then." Marius said. "After takin' everybody's testimonies, we'll search the town and get to the bottom of this."

"You'll search everywhere?"

"Of course. There's plenty of empty houses for the killer to hide in."

FUCK FUCK FUCK SHIT FUCK SHIT FUCK, Garofița thought as she froze like a statue.

"C-C-Could I ask you something?" She blurted out.

"Go ahead." Marius looked at her with raised eyebrows.

"Could, uh, Mist-uhm, could Mr Eduard check my house?"

Both men and Vitalis looked surprised.

"Sure, but why?"

"I, uh, I have dogs, two dogs, and they can get, uh, agressive..." She said, looking at Eduard.

He looked back at her for a moment, then smiled and exhaled through his nose. "Don't worry about it." He said.

"He's good with animals, alright." Vitalis said and Eduard laughed a little too much. Garofița nervously laughed along.

"I know I'm short, but I can handle dogs just fine." Marius said, groaning as he stood up. "Thank you for thinkin' about me, though."

"I-I-I didn't mean it like that!" Garo's face burned.

As they waited for everybody else to testify and for Bea to finish setting up the "salon" as she called it, Garofița, at Vitalis' encouragement, sat with the other children in the encampment.

Laura was 18 years old, wearing a shawl like a veil and keeping her hair in many braids. Her mother gave her up for adoption, then the foster family couldn't afford to care for her anymore, then the next one gave her up, then the next one got arrested, the next one gave up again, and so on and so on. After being passed around various homes her entire life, she decided at 14 to just live on her own.

"I'm not botherin' anybody this way." She said, pressing a boy by his shoulders.

The boy, Iulian, was 17 years old, wearing a hoodie large enough to be a robe. His hair looked cut by hand and not very well. He broke his leg in a bicycle accident when he was 12 and was put on pain-killers.

"This is so fucking dumb..." He rubbed his own face. "You know House? The doctor show?"

"Yeah!"

"In it he has pills he pops in his mouth, like, constantly. Whole fistfuls. My dumbass thought 'that's cool! I'll take mine like that too!' and then I couldn't stop, even after my leg stopped hurting." He sighed. "My parents caught me stealing money to buy oxycodone from this guy at school and they kicked me out. Took them long enough to notice..."

Denisa, the girl that testified before Garo, was 14 years old and she lived in the encampment with her mother. She always wore clean clothes and still went to school. Her father died of cancer when she was 11 and they couldn't afford rent anymore. They stayed at the shelter in town for a while, but both of them got sick and had to stay in the hospital for 3 days. When they got out, the shelter had given their beds to other people "since they didn't come back", and no amount of explaining they were in the freaking hospital worked.

"My mom got in a huuuge fight with them." Denisa said, a little embarrassed. "Then we came here. But it's nice! I like it more!" She said as she picked up Bezea.

Ștefan was 16, but talked and looked like he was an exhausted 40 year old, chain-smoking cigarettes with a scratchy voice and with deep lines around his eyes. He didn't talk much. He only said that he had been homeless since 10, and that he had been arrested for breaking and entering "a couple times". He had no idea where his family was and didn't want to know. He looked rough, but didn't seem like a bad guy.

Filip was 14 and a runaway like Garofița. His father was arrested for trafficking cigarettes. His mother begged his aunt to take him in for a few weeks, until things cleared up. Weeks turned into months and then into years. She would lock him in his room and leave him to starve for days at a time. Mother wouldn't answer any phone calls, so one night he snuck out the window and disappeared.

"She never really liked me." He casually told Garofița while peeling oranges for everyone. "There are easier ways to get rid of someone, like damn."

Garofița felt like she was added to an old and very united groupchat, trying to catch up to years of lore and bonding. She stayed quiet for the most part, listening to their conversations and laughing when they did too. Bezea facilitated her joining their circle.

They told her without any inhibition their situations, how they ended up homeless, what they've been through. The adults in the encampment did that too, spilling their pain to whoever would listen. Garofița's problems felt so small by comparison. She had been homeless for less than a month, and these people have been out here for years, some their whole lives.

She almost wished her parents had treated her worse, for her running away to sound more justified. Her hand unconsciously rubbed under her eye, skin unblemished for a long time now. As if nothing ever happened.

She was brought back to reality by Mr Marius' heavy footsteps heading for the gate. A tall and lanky policeman picked up one of the papers, the list of everybody present at the encampment.

"Gigi!" He called out.

"Here!"

"Melinda P.!"

"Here!"

"Barbie?"

"Heeere!"

"...Ken?"

"Yep!"

"Uh, Hurrem?"

"Here."

A lot of people were hiding for their own safety, such as Garofița, Filip or the blonde lady Vitalis told her about the first time she arrived, the one whose husband got her in trouble with drug dealers. Others hid for being the ones who committed crimes. Mirabela promised them protection within the encampment as long as they did not cause any harm to the residents. A couple scammers and dealers didn't hurt anybody (currently).

"Maria Heredea?"

"Here."

"Denisa Heredea?"

"Here!" She said and raised her arm.

"La-" He did a double-take at the paper. "...Lady Gaga?"

Garofița raised a hand, the other one holding the black mask over her face. Just in case.

The policeman shook his head.

"Baby?"

"Here."

"Blondie?"

"Here!"

"X-" He paused and squinted. "XxxPrince-of-DarknessxxX...?"

Filip raised his hand with a wide grin.

Envoys, if you will, of the Bisclavu family had arrived at the Palaghiu House. Two tall and intimidating men in well-tailored coats, of varying ages and lengths of beards.

The elder was Emmanuel Bisclavu, the younger brother of the head of the Bisclavu family, Jean Bisclavu. He was the one usually sent to Mirabela when Jean didn't feel like dealing with her. He really did look like a wolf, with sharp features and wry lips. His eyes were a warm amber, like most members of his family, framed with long dark eyelashes that made them seem brighter than they were.

Mirabela's vampiric eyes were golden, eyebags like bruises on sunken skin. They were downcast, burning holes into a spot in the carpet. Her usually bubbly personality was replaced by a tomb-like silence. Her lips were tight, jagged teeth grinding behind them, and her arms were crossed under her chest. She had tied the robe in the meantime.

All of the usually merry vampires were quite shaken by the possibility of Bălașa ordering the death of the Cernescu family. Mirabela's coven-mates, Victor and Ralouka, stood on either side of the armchair she sat on. Victor, a ferret-like man, looked like he was on the verge of tears. Ralouka constantly fussed about, bringing coffees or checking curtains, unable to sit still.

"What do you do if it's indeed her?" Emmanuel asked, cleaning his glasses on his coat's sleeve. Despite living for generations in Romania, there was still a French twang in his accent.

"I kill her." Mirabela said.

"She didn't do it!" Victor cried out. "She wouldn't-!"

"Are you sure? We all know how impulsive she is." Emmanuel smiled with one corner of his mouth.

"You little-!!" Victor made the motion to punch him, but Ralouka held him back.

"It's not worth it." She whispered, shooting a venomous glare towards Emmanuel. He smiled like a brat after successfully baiting someone to anger.

It may be stereotypical for vampires and werewolves to not get along, but in this particular case it was true.

"I feel so lost." The younger envoy from the Bisclavu family leaned to the side to whisper.

"Don't worry." Mihai, the envoy on Mr Marius' behalf, whispered back. "It's a long story. You're new, right?"

"It's my first freaking day, dude."

"Damn."

"I will kill Bălașa. I'll really do it this time." Mirabela said dead serious, so intense her eyes that, even though they weren't pointed at any of them, it made Mihai and the youngster shiver.

The doorbell rang and Ralouka practically ran to answer. She entered a foyer separated from the main hallway with a heavy door, unlocked the front door, then ran back behind the heavy one.

Simona waited a couple seconds, then walked into the foyer. The high noon sunlight was blindingly bright in the dark house. She shut the door and locked it, made it dark again, then joined Ralouka in the hallway.

"Apologies for the wait!" Simona said, arriving between the men and the vampires. She held a large dossier in her arms.

"What did you find?" Mirabela asked.

Simona flinched a little when she saw the golden eyes staring at her from dark sockets. Mirabela wasn't pleasant to be around when she was like this.

She cleared her throat. "I made a pretty big discovery. One of the victims, Sabina Cernescu, was originally from another town, East of Călimari. Matei Cernescu is her second husband. Her first husband... was Dorel Pitaru."

"The cult guy?" The youngster made wide eyes.

"It wasn't Bălașa?" Mirabela asked, breathless, eyes huge and lips parted. Only the tips of her teeth were visible.

"So far, looks like no." Simona said.

Mirabela's mouth curled into a big elated smile, like a child before they learn how to pose for a picture. Victor sighed so deeply in relief he nearly deflated.

Marius Bujor was the equivalent of an outlaw becoming the town sheriff, but not changing his ways one bit. He just played for the other team now.

In a way it was funny. He walked into the Ferești police station and talked with officers who used to handcuff him as if they were his subordinates.

Chief Jderu was standing up on his feet, giving orders and talking to five men at once. Among them was Robert Berindean, who stood out quite starkly between the blue uniforms with his shrimp-themed t-shirt.

"Nobody leaves this town without a good reason!" Jderu was in the middle of saying.

"Sir, we received the report from Bogdan at Motel Havana." One of the officers said. "Yesterday, six people in total from outside of town have checked in. Two men in particular arrived at 9 am. They left around 9 pm, came back at 4 am that night acting erratic, then left again around 7 am. They've yet to pick up their luggage."

"Bring them here! Horia, what do you have?"

"As far as we know, there are 6 men in the service of Bălașa that match the admittedly vague description given by Motel Havana staff. Ciprian Pop, Norbert Guleș, Florian Moldoveanu, Petre Sârbescu, Traian Vica and Dorin Zaharie."

"My bet is on Uncle Zaharie." Robert smacked his lips, hands in his pockets. "That guy's crazy. He'll do about anything."

Jderu didn't say anything out loud, but his glance in Robert's direction was significant.

"Anyways, is the VPN on? We need to message officer Bundar in Văleni-"

"You don't need to, actually." Marius said as he reached the main office area, followed by Eduard carrying the dosier, Mihai and the Bisclavu men. "It wasn't Bălașa."

"It wasn't?" Jderu asked.

"Nope. It was Dorel Pitaru."

"The cult guy?!"

"The one and only." Marius took the dossier. "We'll be takin' over from here, I only need a couple of your men."

"You will?" Jderu smiled. He sat down in his desk chair and took out his phone. "Thank you, man."

"It's a job." Marius said. "Here's what we got from the homeless encampment." He handed another officer papers from the dossier, the testimonies of several pairs of eyes and ears.

Mihai and the youngster continued their whispered conversation in the back of the ground.

"So, yeah." Mihai said. "That's why they are beefing."

"Why was Victor so upset, though?"

"Bălașa is his sister. He really doesn't want her to die, you know?"

"They're siblings?!"

"Yeah, dude."

"Vampires can have siblings?"

"Of course! If they both got turned."

"I really hoped the cult business wouldn't spread to us too." Jderu said as he texted his wife, asking where she would like to go on their yearly vacation with their 'bonus'. It couldn't be the Maldives, they would get accused of copying the Ghindeas again.

"When are we ever that lucky?" Marius groaned.

"If I find them first, can I run them over with my car?" Robert asked.

"No." Marius said.

"Please?"

"No." He said, Eduard snickering in the back. "What for?"

"They can't keep running if they've been hit by a car."

"I'm surrounded by maniacs." Marius muttered. "Please don't hit anybody with your damn car." He continued aloud.

"I'll hit them only a little bit." Robert smiled.

"A little bit HOW?!" Marius lost his temper. Eduard and Emmanuel Bisclavu openly laughed.

In the past, in the eras of gods walking among men, myths, legends and folk tales, everything was scary. How do you tell apart a Buddy from a very ill dog in the 14th century? What if it's far away, in the distant woods, and in the dark?

Even if you could, what was there to do? People used to think you could cure illness by making yourself bleed, or that the uterus was a beast wandering inside the woman's body.

It was doubted that certain humans should be allowed freedom, let alone that vampires, werewolves, ghosts, mermaids, fairies, selkies, dragons, harpies, demons or cryptids were real.

Not to mention the world absolutely sucked for the average person, for most of history. The last thing you needed was the knowledge that monsters are real, not just the metaphorical human ones.

People nowadays understand the world much better than they did before. Supernatural beings are as real as human beings, but that doesn't make them any less mysterious or scary. The things that harmed your peasant ancestors can still harm you today just the same. All wild animals are dangerous, regardless of shape. You still shouldn't trust any random stranger at night.

Maybe all those supernatural beings are diverging branches of the homo sapiens family tree, starting with the fish that crawled on land. Maybe it is indeed all magic, something beyond our comprehension. Maybe God was really bored.

As with anything that has to do with humanity, there was a lot of fear and prejudice. People like the Bisclavu family took the route of leaning into it. In times before widespread knowledge, good weapons or reliable government, poor common people had to fend for themselves with whatever they got. A certain werewolf family became a village's guardians, driving away the other things that went bump in the night. They were feared just as much, but accepted on the basis they were the "useful ones". As the village became a town and the night became less daunting, the guards remained, still feared.

"Who are they protecting us from?" Vitalis spat on the ground. "Themselves?"

"Well, the vampire lady in Văleni..." Garofița said, worried that the conversation was turning bigoted.

"Bah!" Vitalis rolled her eyes. "Bălașa is all talk."

Mirabela crashed on the metaphorical couch of Ferești for some 100 years, and the Bisclavu clan gave up on trying to kick her out. She and her posse did not cause them problems directly, but her rivalry with Bălașa a town over did cause some stress to the common folk.

From a vampire's perspective, it made perfect sense. They are walking dead, roaming a world that is not theirs anymore. They can not enter a house if they are not invited into it, or if it's not theirs. For some, just a feeling in their heart that a house belongs to them is enough. For others, paperwork is needed to convince themselves. It used to be an archaic job: somebody living in the coven for the purpose of letting others in.

Many years ago, Mirabela and Bălașa were under the tutelage of an elder vampire named Ilknur, a turkish woman who found home in Romania since Ottoman times. When she finally died for real, she split her properties between the members of her coven. As it happens at every reading of a will, the family was at each-other's throats. "I deserve more!" "No, I do!" "I should have gotten that, not you!"

Mirabela received the Palaghiu House in Ferești, initially intended as a vacation home, as well as the plot of land on which Amante would be built. She clung to this town just so Bălașa wouldn't have it, just to make her mad for however many centuries they had left.

And so their petty bitch fighting began. Bălașa's goons beat up Mirabela's, Mirabela's goons slashed up Bălașa's. Mirabela trashed one of Bălașa's bars, Bălașa set ablaze one of Mirabela's houses. Bălașa tried to tamper Mirabela's blood supply, Mirabela tortured Bălașa's goons into never trying that again.

"Why don't they just fucking kill each-other and call it a day?" Ștefan grumbled.

"Their relationship is weird, man." Vitalis sighed. "They hate each-other's guts, but would probably lose their minds if the other got hurt. And it's also this weird-ass way of showing love, at least on Mirabela's part. She rarely shows her true feelings." She paused. "Or so I've heard." She quickly added.

"The salon is ready!" Bea announced, presenting the water basin with jazz hands.

"I should wash my hair too." Laura thought out loud, feeling her own braids.

"Uhh, what do I do?" Garofița asked.

"Lean over it!" Bea said.

Garofița awkwardly sat down in front of the basin, dark purple plastic and filled with water, a drug store shampoo bottle next to it. She leaned her head down until her forehead was against the rim. Bea tossed Garofița's black hair over her head into the water, working to get it soaked.

"Tell me if I'm too rough." Bea said. Garofița felt cold shampoo being poured on the back of her skull. "Or if I'm pushing you downwards too much."

"Okay." Garo said.

"Attention everyone!!" Roxi called out, the phone still in her hand. "We've got news!"

The whole encampment, filled with the chatter of overlapping voices, suddenly went quiet and Bea's hands stopped mid-scrub. Garofița wanted to raise her head to look, but stopped before shampoo suds started rolling down to her eyes.

"The murderers are connected to Dorel Pitaru!" Roxi said. "One of the victims, Sabina Cernescu, was his ex-wife."

The encampment was in shock for a long second, then all at once it was full of exclamations of surprise and anger.

"I always knew that fucker was not right in the head!"

"Is he gonna kill everyone who knows him? Is he gonna kill us?!"

"I wanna see him try!!"

"Man, this is some bullshit!"

"So can we leave the encampment yet?"

"I'm sorry, everyone, but Mr Marius says we must all remain here until the cultists are caught." Roxi said, cringing in advance of what she knew was coming. It was an eruption of indignation and creative curses. Yet nobody made their way even close to the gate, let alone tried to leave.

Garofița found it a little funny how quickly everybody went from cursing out Mirabela to cursing out Dorel. She heard plenty about her.

"She's a coked up, fucked up little creature." Vitalis mumbled.

"She suuucks!" Filip said. "No pun intended."

"Honey, there's people in this town who would shoot her for 5 lei and a Pepsi can." Gliga said.

"I have nothing against her." Bea said mid-shampoo. "I don't have anything for her either."

"Acting like a bratty teenager at her beyond geriatric age." Denisa's mom scoffed.

"I wouldn't tell her a secret if we was the last two people on Earth and she was deaf!" Blondie, the blonde lady in hiding, said.

"If I wanted to be lied to with a smile on the face, I would have gone to a freakin' car dealership." Ken, real name Petrică, said.

"That's the thing, though. She's gonna be here longer than any of us. Whoever judges her today will be dead eventually. So fuck everybody." Barbie, real name Carmen, said.

"She's a bisexual demon, dude. She's out here doggin' bitches out, regardless of gender." Mircea said, the young man who watched youtube until he fell asleep. "Nobody is safe."

"She keeps biting my ankles, dude! She pays me extra, so I don't mind it that much, but still. Chill out!" Hurrem, real name Elena, said.

"I hear she only drinks blood from people who are drunk or on drugs. And it kinda makes sense, you know? People in the past were chock-full of lead, cocaine and opium. Vampires kind of didn't have a choice but to be addicts too." Tudor, Coca's drinking buddy, speculated.

"Bitch, I'm an addict and I don't act like her!" Melinda P. said. She was the black-haired lady that raised her voice when Garofița bumped into the other day, the one who abandoned her kid. Not that Garo held a grudge.

"Humans were not meant to live longer than 100 years. Immortality scrambles your brain, man." Laura said.

"It's not just vampirism either. Something's wrong with her, she's not regular." Iulian said.

"She's still a bad bitch, though." Gigi said, coming up to them. "Bea, baby, can I get a hair treatment too?"

Gigi was the gay lady who owed Vitalis money. Bea told Garofița an anecdote about how one time Mihai, after he grew out his hair a little bit, brought some donations to the encampment and Gigi flirted with him. He was confused, because he knew Gigi was a lesbian. When he turned around to face her, Gigi gasped and profusely apologised, saying that she thought he was a butch.

"Oh, that was a long time ago! How are you all doing today, dearies?" Gigi asked. She had crimped blonde hair, dark eyebrows and the sweetest smile, like a vintage illustration of the Sun. She wore a brown tank top with no bra and a denim skirt.

"Good, good!" Bea said.

"Washing my hair." Garofița said from under her head full of suds.

"Anybody getting stir crazy yet?" Gigi laughed.

"I am." Ștefan puffed.

"I kinda wanted to go to the library today." Filip said.

"Me too." Denisa said. "I found a fun book to read when I don't feel like doing homework."

"Which one?" Filip asked.

"Oh, I forgot its name. About a French guy who went to prison and kept escaping and going back. And they kept hiding money up their butts."

"Papillon?" Garofița asked, carefully turning to the side.

"Yes! Papillon!" Denisa said, clasping her hands together. "Thank you!"

"You're welcome!" Garofița smiled back.

Marius made faces as he joined Eduard on his way to Garofița's house. Eduard waved to Mrs Delia as they passed her shop, catching her in a moment of dancing along to Celine Dion.

"Don't we have enough work to do right now?" He demanded.

"The girl asked me to check her house." Eduard said, smiling serenely. "It would be rude not to do it."

Marius scoffed. "That kid reminds me of a greyhound that's always shiverin'."

"That's mean!" He said but still laughed.

The greyhound raised her head, helped by Bea, and had her hair wrapped in an old towel. Garofița wondered how it would be dried without a dryer, when Bea stood up quickly like a spring.

"To the roof!" She said.

"Huh??"

"Come on, before you catch a cold!"

They walked up one of the buildings' stairs, past rough-looking people sitting down on the floor, cigarettes in their mouths and blisters on their limbs. Garofița clung close to Bea, but few paid them any mind. Some greeted Bea, far softer voices than she anticipated.

On the top floor, she climbed a metallic ladder built directly into the wall, leading to a trapdoor in the ceiling. Bea simply pushed it open.

"Climb up." She looked back over her shoulder at Garofița. "It's safe, don't be scared."

Garofița found herself looking over the entire town, at roofs and streets and her forest. She was nowhere near the edge but still felt faint, like she should crawl on all fours instead of walking.

Bea laid down the towel and told Garofița to lay with her head on it. She brushed out Garofița's wet hair evenly, until it looked like a wide black halo. The sun beamed down directly on the concrete, and Garofița already felt sweaty.

"Now we wait!" Bea said, lying down at her side, hands under her head and legs crossed.

Garofița glanced at her, then crossed her legs too.

"Oof! What an awful way to start the day!" Mirabela said as she sat back in front of her vanity. She grabbed curls of her dark hair and coated them in gel, shaping them with her finger into neat spirals.

Ralouka stood before the walk-in closet, ironing a dress. "Should we be worried about Dorel and the cult?"

"I don't think so." Mirabela said. "The boys will scare them straight." She giggled.

Garofița had chosen the most decent-looking abandoned house by the periphery. Marius remembered hearing rumours from older homeless folk that a man died of an overdose in it, a few years ago, and that a cryptid lurked around. What kind, there were conflicting reports. Garofița didn't know, of course she wouldn't have, and nobody bothered to tell her either. Why tell her? It happened years before she arrived anyway, and no ghost stayed behind.

Eduard stepped closer, squeezing through the broken fence.

"At least it's isolated." Marius thought out loud. "It's safer for girls like this."

Eduard walked up the front steps and reached for the door's handle.

"Hello" Garofița's voice rang out from inside.

Marius froze, staring at the house with wide eyes and furrowed brows.

"Hello?" Eduard replied, unable to keep his smile down.

"Hello" Garofița's voice said, tone slightly different, from a different day. "Buddy bring"

"Who is this?" He played along.

"Get his ass " Her voice suddenly shouted.

"What?" Eduard burst out laughing. What was the context of that one?

He opened the door, only a little bit to peek inside. All he saw was an empty hallway, with a room nearby. There was movement inside. Eduard flung the door open, stepping forward. He saw a small white thing run towards the window, and a skin-walker propel itself towards him. Its angle was off and its speed handicapped, unable to reach his throat even if Eduard didn't quickly draw himself back.

Walker slammed against the wall and fell on the floor, glaring up at Eduard with eyes full of rage. He moved backwards too, putting some distance between them, jaws wide and claws spread out. They were still sharp, scratching the old floorboards beneath them. His voice, the real one, made a horrible garbled growl, like a cat in a fight, like a woman screaming bloody murder.

The white creature, a small quadruped cryptid, was trying to escape out of the window. Walker glanced at Buddy, then did a double-take with almost human-like offence.

"Damn, you really did a number on your leg." Eduard said. The real skin of the skin-walker was dark like the skin above a dog's black nose, and the wound looked pitch-black. It had a huge scab on it, red lines of blood like cracks in lava. The agitation made it bleed again.

All things considered, it could have been much worse! Garofița wasn't a half-bad medic! Walker could still attack and hiss and spit, still had fighting spirit in him. Eduard liked that.

"You can calm down, I'll leave." He said as he went outside, pulling the door closed with him.

"She has a fuckin' skin-walker?" Marius demanded.

Buddy, ducking behind the house, was watching them, his white face standing out on the green backdrop. Marius saw him tumble out the window, but was far more concerned with the voice of the girl he knew for a fact was still at the encampment.

"It's a juvenile, 2 or 3 years old." Eduard said, ever-calm. "Wears the skin of some unlucky man and will need a replacement soon. It's got a nasty wound on the left leg. I'm surprised it made it this long, honestly! Poor Garofița must have been looking after it around the clock. And she has that little fellow over there too!" He smiled, leaning to see Buddy.

Marius was not amused at all. He groaned and turned heel to leave. "The last thing I fuckin' need right now is an Eddy Junior."

Buddy watched them leave, shaking off spider silk. He messed up the window panel Pickle was weaving. When the street was empty and silent again, a vengeful Walker jumped out the window. He carelessly crashed into the grass, then chased Buddy around the yard on his good three legs. The fury at being left to fight alone overshadowed any pain.

While all this happened, Garofița, with dry and fresh hair, was doing Denisa's French homework. She didn't want to just sit around and listen to others talk, so she thought she should make herself useful.

She wrote while lying down on her stomach in the Heredea family's tent, and Denisa was at her side, lying on her back and holding a book above her face.

Marie de France was a 12th century author who wrote lais. One of them was "Bisclavret", the tale of a werewolf baron from Brittany who was trapped in the wolf form and betrayed by his wife. The king took pity on the noble creature and brought him to court, where he bit off the nose of that evil woman. Bisclavret was returned to his human form and the king, overjoyed, gave him a hundred kisses.

"That's kinda gay." Denisa said.

"It's very gay!" Vitalis replied from outside.

You didn't really have privacy in the encampment unless you stayed in the surrounding buildings, full of dust and mold and cold, or if you didn't stay in the encampment at all. Tent walls are very thin.

"I kind of miss going to school." Gigi said, accepting a cigarette from Vitalis. Another one for the tab.

"I don't." Filip said, petting Bezea. "Being bullied at school all morning and then abused at home in the afternoon was a tough schedule to uphold, not gonna lie."

Garofița laughed a little too hard.

"I liked learning, though. I was really good at math and physics!" Gigi smiled. "I wanted to be a teacher like Mrs Lupescu, she was always nice to me. Oh well."

"Garo, can you make your handwriting look uglier?" Denisa said. "Mine never looked so neat."

"Yeah, sure." Garofița said.

"You ran away too, right? Like Filip?"

"... yes."

"Where did you come from?" She smiled.

Garofița didn't really want to answer. She was paranoid that through Denisa, or somebody else, the information would find its way to her family, and they would find her. She couldn't just tell Denisa "no" either, no? That would make her weird.

She told her.

"That's pretty far!"

"I, uh, took two buses."

"It sounds familiar..."

"Does it?"

"What schools are there?"

She told her.

"That's why I know it!" She clapped. "One of the Bisclavu girls went there!"

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah!"

"T-That's the school I attended."

"Whaaat?"

"Y-Yeah."

"Girl, you went to private school?"

"Yeah. It sucked."

"Oh, I don't doubt that. Just saying, damn!"

"It's a small world!" Vitalis joked from outside. Garofița wondered if she should speak quieter.

"I never heard of anybody named Bisclavu up until I-I came here, though." She said.

"Oh, it's a whole story." Denisa said. "Marie Bisclavu was in the 7th grade when I was in the 4th, so she'd be in high school right now, I think. It was a huuuge scandal. See, Marie Bisclavu played tennis and she was bitter rivals with this other girl named Dana Oltean. They were both really good. One time during training after school they got into this big argument. Nobody remembers why, but Marie suddenly started hitting Dana with her tennis racket until it broke! It was crazyyy, it was all the town talked about for weeks. The Bisclavu family paid Dana's family to not press charges, paid for her hospital bills and even offered to sponsor her in the future for college. Marie Bisclavu was express-shipped to a different school."

"Holy shit..."

"Yeah! It was wild. Dana Oltean ended up moving as well, to Lăutari, in the opposite direction. I hear she still plays tennis, so good for her!"

"Yeah, no, I never heard of Marie Bisclavu... I didn't really interact with the rich girls. Unless they bullied me..."

"Who bullied you?" Denisa pushed herself up by her arms.

"Just, uhm, some girls. Some bitches..."

"What are their names?" Denisa pulled out her phone.

"What are you doing?" Garofița furrowed her brows.

"I wanna see their mugs."

She told her, reluctantly.

Denisa searched one of them on facebook. "Is this her?"

Garofița turned pale. "Yes..."

She opened her account.

"Don't do anything!!" Garofița said, springing up.

"I'm just looking." Denisa said as she scrolled. "She's pretty."

"I guess..."

"You're really pretty too."

"O-Oh, uh, thank you!"

"Why did she bully you?"

"I don't know... Smelled the fact I'm easy to bully?" She laughed bitterly. They always did. Was there something about Garofița's face that signaled to people she was a punching bag?

"Was she jealous that you were pretty?" Denisa kept scrolling.

"No, I don't think so... She dressed way better than me. And she knew how to do her hair."

"Was she jealous that, I don't know... you were smarter than her?"

"N-No, she got way better grades than me. She was one of the top students in school, actually."

"Hmm... Were you better than her at sports or something?"

"No, I sucked. She was the captain of the volleyball team, and did basketball too at one point."

"Huh. What beef did she have with you then?" Denisa looked up from the phone.

"I don't know!!" Garofița said, getting exasperated. "She... She didn't like that I existed around her!"

"Girl, she wanted you!" Ștefan said from outside.

Every town has their own little mafia, formal or not. Regardless of country across the globe, every city, town or village has that one family, that one group or even one person that everybody in the community knows not to mess with. In some places it's an open secret, while in others it's an overt tyranny. The human ones were often the most dangerous. Vampires like Mirabela or Bălașa were stuck with eternal interpersonal drama, with problems so specific they felt absurd. Werewolves like the Bisclavu were selfish and efficient.

In a way Marius appreciated the Bisclavu family. It was impossible to bribe them or to rope them into your illicit plans. Both because they were already richer than you, and because they couldn't care less about anything that didn't directly affect them. The schools in Ferești get renovated only because the Bisclavu kids attend them. The hospital gets hefty donations because they need to go there too. Festivals and events take place because they get bored. Crime is low and quickly subdued so they can go on promenades without the worry of finding dead bodies in the grass.

"We found one of them." The man on the telephone said. "They are trying to find a way out of town, and have split up. One is heading for the woods, the other seems to have realised he is being followed and ducked between buildings. Agnes lost track and is currently looking for him again."

"That's alright, son." Jean Bisclavu said. He and his brother Emmanuel were 9 years apart, yet in old age could have passed for twins. The biggest difference was their personalities. Jean was soft-spoken, talking slowly and unhurried, a satin-like laziness that only comes from a carefree life.

His life was not completely carefree, of course, but it's easier to handle stress when you're living in cotton.

He dialed up another number. "Hello?"

"Hellooo!" Simona said from the other end with her crystalline voice. "Is everything alright, Sir?"

"It is more than alright, dear." Jean smiled.

"You already found them?"

"One for sure, the other is still pending. But he won't get too far."

"Eh, if Agnes is on the trail, she'd find them even if they were on the moon!"

"I'll send my niece your flattery."

"What should we do about the rest of the cult? Surely it's not just Dorel and those two."

"I thought as much. We shall deal with them from now on." His smile lowered as he spoke. "I let Mirabela handle Bălașa, but a threat like this against our town is a threat against us. Nobody is allowed to get away with that."

Jean Bisclavu's office had a view of a vast garden full of flowers, in which three children and a teenager were playing, taking advantage of the day with no school. Their squeals could be heard all the way to Simona through the phone.

"They can do whatever nonsense they want elsewhere." Jean said. "Drink koolaid and bomb a train station for all I care. But not here."

He fixed his posture in his chair. "Tell Marius that I appreciate his help thus far."

"Of course!"

"He believes it if it's you who says it."

Simona giggled. "Have a good rest of the day, Sir."

"You as well!"

Jean dialed up Robert next.

"Hello, Sir!" He said. His mouth sounded full.

"Robert, son, go to the cafe on Marie Curie street and meet with Raul and Agnes. They know where at least one of the cultists is."

"Yes, Sir!" An engine could be heard, along with a food wrapped being crumbled.

"Robert, by the way, I have a question."

"Yes?"

"You wouldn't happen to know where Emmanuel is, would you? He didn't arrive home after you all went to the police station."

"I'm right here, Johnny!" Emmanuel's voice rang out from Robert's side.

Jean blinked. "I see."

"I'll be back home in a couple hours. Not sure, we'll see how long it takes."

Jean sighed, closing his eyes. "Fine. Robert, don't let him get too rowdy."

"You got it, Sir!" Robert audibly grinned, then shut the phone.

Jean sighed again. He loved his brother, he loved his family more than anything, and he respected the Amante staff to some degree. But he still would have preferred his brother chose more... befitting company.

"This shit sucks so much balls, dude." Ștefan said.

They took to lying on their backs and staring at the clouds, finding shapes in them, anything to assuage their boredom. Denisa had to be careful how much she used her phone, as she could only charge it at the library or in certain classrooms.

The "stir-crazy" mentioned by Gigi seemed to start, people getting snappier and quicker to arguments the more bored they got within the confinement of the camp. Garofița stayed close to their little group: the kids, Vitalis, Gigi, Bea, Gliga and Mrs Heredea. Bezea took turns climbing each child lying down, giving each a chance to pet her.

"That one looooks liiiike... a dinosaur!" Denisa said, pointing with her finger.

It kind of looked like Buddy, Garofița thought and giggled to herself.

"I'm hungry." Gigi said.

"What would you like?" Gliga asked, clearing his throat.

"No, not real food. Junk food."

"I want cheese puffs!" Filip said. "The off-brand from Lidl."

"I want raisins in chocolate." Ștefan said. "The kind from Mrs Delia."

"I waaaant... puffcorn!" Denisa said. "Gusto, that's the only good kind."

"I want puffcorn too." Iulian piped up.

"Fatass." Ștefan said.

"I want puffcorn too!" Elena 'Hurrem' called out from a few tents away.

"Wish we could go buy some." Filip sighed.

"What's stopping you?" Vitalis stood up and headed for the gate. "Come."

"A place to call Home"

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