Victor took the file from Arya and placed it on the desk. "You take the lamp," he said distractedly as he thumbed through the papers, "you need it more than I do."
The folder contained many things. Newspaper cutouts that described anything from unsolved arson cases to lucrative trading deals. A series of murders on prostitutes, also unsolved. An election poster for the city council - the name on it said 'Summers', but as it was a man clearly not named 'Rebekah', Victor did not spend much time scrutinizing it for hidden clues.
And there it was: a letter. Victor did not recognize the handwriting that had regrettably smeared in some places and was just as difficult to read as Percy's. He squinted, trying to make sense of it. The author must have shaken badly on their hand at the time they wrote it.
'Dearest Rebekah,' it read. Victor furrowed his brow. Was that his mother they meant? Although his vision was far better than any human's, the letter was so difficult to read in the low light that he could only pick out bits and pieces every now and then. 'Congratulations', 'baby daughter', 'safety', and 'Mary'. Why had the author shaken so much? Fear? Anger? He put the letter back in the folder and thumbed over another couple of leaves when his sensitive ears pricked up the last sound he wanted to hear - footsteps on the other side of the archive door.
~¨.*~:".´-*+~:".-*~¨.*-".-:´~.:`+`-*¨:~
Their scent made a trail clearer than if they'd walked on soft, fresh snow. Henry's hands were buried deep in his pockets, left-hand fingers running along the smooth surface of his pocket watch, right-hand loosely gripping a long, gleaming dagger as he strolled down the many staircases towards whatever secret destination his cousin Victor and his midnight-snack-to-be were headed toward. He had all the time in the world. His nose had never let him astray, not even once.
To his delight, the scent ended at a door. No doors in a basement led to rooms with other entrances. A smile twisted his handsome face into a mask of cruel amusement.
"Knock, knock," Henry mumbled to himself before opening the heavy oak door. Nobody was in sight, but the smell was stronger here, and what was more - a little lamp on the writing desk was lit. Henry shook his head and tutted before blowing out the candle, covering the front area in total darkness. He knew it'd pose little to no challenge for Victor, himself, or Justine to navigate, but it always made the chase so much more intense. Henry opened his mouth, allowing his vicious fangs to slide from their hiding spaces in the roof of his mouth. He grimaced - he'd never get used to that feeling. If he was honest with himself, he hated it.
"Aren't we a little too old for hide-and-seek, coz? I know it's your favorite game to play with your food, but..." He trailed along the ends of the bookcases, carelessly scraping his knife across the wood, leaving scratches wherever he went. He wouldn't have to go too deep. Justine had been down here for hours. And if he knew his sister right, it had been driving her mad to be down here without company. She'd be more than eager to say hello to them now that he was here to guard the exit.
