Heads Will Roll [horror/supernatural], game full but wait list spots available

[TheHangedOne]

Question for TheHangedMan:  I like to know pronunciations if I'm going to read a name frequently.  Can you help me with the pronunciations for "Leofwine" and "Leof"?  Do the names rhyme with any other, familiar words, for instance?  I'm guessing "Le-" rhymes with "ice tea" and "honeybee"; and "-of" rhymes with "off," like turning off a light; and "-wine" just rhymes with "wine," like goes well with the chicken.  :)  Am I guessing right, or is one or more of those wrong?

His name would be pronounced Lee-off-wine, and lee-off, so yes, you have the right of it.  :D

Edit: Addendum: I would like to ask if it's alright that I specify Leof works as an assistant trainer at the Eskrima school he attends, so that not only does he still get the training and exercise he desires, he also gets money for doing it?  :-)

[Crovonovin]

Name: Delilah Etienne

Character Type: Indoctrinated
Physical Description and/or image: Delilah is a powerhouse of a woman, standing at about six foot two inches and weighing in at a fiercely athletic 164 pounds.  This is a chick who cares not one jot about what other people think of her or her gender, prizing personal wellness and strength above all else.  Her dirty blonde hair is typically cut short and slicked back out of her face, practical and professional.  But for all the muscle and confident swagger, it's Delilah's eyes that really draw one in and send them reeling backwards in equal measure.  Like two glaciers they are, a blue so blinding as to be nearly white, glaring with all the intensity of a hawk scoping out its prey.

She's never found without coils of silver chain around her arms and neck (though the latter are designed to snap off easily enough), and even a few wrapped about her abdomen for good measure.

Sex: Female
Sexual Preferences: Isn't picky.
Skills:

• Street-Fighting: Though not professionally taught in any established martial art, Delilah is a bruiser through and through.  Years spent in illegal underground fighting rings have taught her much about surviving in close quarters with a desperate combatant.  Every weakness can be taken advantage of, every object in sight can be used as a weapon, and no rules apply when it comes to defending yourself from harm.  The woman fights like a feral cat with the strength of a small bear, and is generally extremely unpredictable with her movements; such is the strength of her improvisation.
• Marksmanship: Delilah first held a rifle in her grip at the age of six, and knew all the intricacies of most firearms by the age of seven.  By eight she could reliably dismantle and reassemble just about any rifle, pistol, or shotgun she was presented with.  Sometimes it pays to have a father with a healthy love of Second Amendment.  She's a damn good shot and she knows it, and will always try to put as much space between her and her opponent when she can manage it.
• Singing: Those who have actually heard her claim that Delilah's voice could melt even the blackest of hearts, but they are few and far between.  The most she manages most days is a lilting hum, or some old tune whispered under the breath whenever she thinks she's alone.  A broken songbird.
• Survival: Though at her prime in marshlands and other damp climates, Delilah knows how to live off the land for long stretches of time without contact with civilization.  She prefers to stalk her targets in cities and towns, but if it comes down to it she would stalk right into the belly of the beast if it gave her the opportunity to gut it like a fish.

Backstory:

Hailing from deep in the swamps of Louisiana and born to an old Cajun ex-Marine and his second-generation French immigrant wife, Delilah had a rather unconventional upbringing.  Her father had been shooting for a son to carry on his legacy, but when he wound up with a daughter his stubbornness just wouldn't allow him to be disappointed.  Gender be damned, Savoi was going to have the rough-and-tumble child he'd wanted.  As soon as she was old enough for her blonde locks to start getting long, he promptly buzzed 'em right off and raised her as the boy he couldn't manage to get.

Of course, his wife didn't simply exist in the background.  Dione (who had been adamant about naming her daughter something appropriately feminine, much to her husband's chagrin) taught her what it meant to be a young lady whenever her dad wasn't around to get all irate about it.  Fortunately for him, it became swiftly apparent that she took after her dad's sensibilities.

The family lived out on the water in a particularly scenic part of the state where the air wasn't quite so filthy with mosquitoes, but the nights were often noisy as the swamp came alive with all manner of wildlife.  On more than one occasion a wily snapper or an alligator would wander too close to the front porch and need to be staved off with shovel (for the former) or a well-placed shot between the eyes (for the latter), and Savoi made damn sure his daughter knew the proper respect that a loaded firearm deserved.

It wasn't the guns that Delilah loved though, for her dad had more talents than just being ornery and ex-military.  Like many down that way he fancied himself a bit of a saxophonist.  Unlike many down that way, he also happened to be a damn good one.  His instrument had been passed down from his father, and he'd taken to it like a fish to water.  It was a massive thing, for his old man had been a veritable giant, and as a kid Delilah couldn't even manage to get her hands around it.  So she'd merely listen to her dad play whatever came to mind, all the feelings he was too gruff and proud to talk about washing out of him in his music.  It was never more to him than a side hobby, an excuse to go down to the local bar and play for tips, but to her it was the gateway to a strange and exciting world of sound and expression.

Unfortunately, it wasn't a world that she'd ever get to experience.  It was sweltering night when her childhood came to an abrupt end, at only eleven years old.  A noise woke her in the night, the sound of splintering wood punctuated by two sharp cracks from a rifle, a crash, then silence.  After a few minutes and no word from her father, she'd plucked up the nerve to venture out of her room, through the billowing mosquito nets, and down the hall to the parlor. 

The walls were painted a sickly shade of red and the humid air stank of bile and excrement, but they were merely the horrid backdrop to the thing dominating the center of the room.  It was, quite simply, the largest god forsaken alligator that the girl had ever seen, and what's more it was standing upright on two legs.  Everything was off about it, from the hulking shoulders and the too-large arms rippling with muscle and ending in a too-human fist, to the twisted smile that was too sadistic to possibly be natural.  It stared at her out of the corner of its eyes, stark blue pools that practically mirrored her own in their sheer coldness, grotesquely tilting its head back to swallow the morsel of meat that had once been her father's right arm. 

"Sorry, sweety," it said, sounding not unlike a man attempting to whisper cruelly through a mouth full of razorblades and broken glass, "But yer a wee too small fer my likin'.  Maybe I'll come back fer ya in a few years, when ya put summir meat on dem bones, eh?"

He laughed then, a hateful sound that would stay with Delilah for the rest of her natural life.  Unthinking, numbed to what she was witnessing, her small body jumped at the rifle the beast had forgotten on the floor.  The monster sideswiped her with the entire length of his powerful arm, flicking her into the wall like a worn out ragdoll, but not before a single shot rang out and a fountain of blood splattered from what had once been the thing's right eye.  The last thing she remembered was a pained roar, an explosion of wood, and utter darkness.

The next few years were not kind to Delilah, and she wasn't kind to them.  The mere fact that she'd managed to survive was nothing short of a miracle according to the doctors, but she knew better.  The Etienne's were made of sterner stuff than that.  But her father was dead, and her mother with him, and she knew that whatever distant family would come to claim her would be no family of hers.  Turns out she didn't have much to worry about in that regard, as the only blood she had was either too drunk and unfit to take up the responsibility, disinterested in accepting her, or back in Europe and far out of reach.  Much to the surprise of her physicians and the police, she insisted on being put up in an orphanage.  Of the talking alligator she told no one.  She was a kid, but she wasn't stupid.  The last thing she needed was to get sent off to the Funny Farm, not when there was a murderous git that needed to get what was coming to him.

Her education was questionable, and she gave the Sisters and just about every other authority figure all the trouble she could muster up, but she was smart and learned quickly whenever she applied herself to something.  It's just that she tended to apply herself to target practice out in the woods and beating up schoolboys in back alleys, was all.

When she came of age, having done a damned good job driving away anyone who would even dare to think about adopting her, she received all of her parent's possessions and their property, as per their joint-will.  They had put everything they had into raising her--their money, their time, their hopes and dreams, and ultimately their lives.  It would take some doing, but she wasn't about to let all of that go to waste.  She sold the property and all the old wounds that came with it, bought a sturdy truck with a flatbed, and packed up all the essentials (the guns, mostly) before hitting the road and the wider world. 

She knew what her prey was from books nicked from the library.  A Skin-walker, a half-man who could wear the guise of any animal (or person) he chose by wearing its pelt in order to pass through the wilderness unchecked, and whose voice as as malleable as water and could deceive any who heard it.  Knowing that the killer could be anyone or anything did not deter her, for those ungodly eyes were burned into her vision, staring back at her every time she fell to slumber.

And she knew exactly what she would do to the bastard once she tracked it down.  Savoi's old saxophone had still been at his side when the man was torn apart.  It was a grim realization that her arms were large enough to hold it properly, only now that it had been stained with his blood.  She didn't dare to play it, but took a few lengths of steel and welded them to support its brass frame, covering the bend with cruel silver spikes, and added a sizable handle just past the mouthpiece.  To anyone else it would have been a desecration to mutilate the treasured heirloom like that, but in her eyes it seemed a most fitting instrument of revenge.

The past few decades have been spent on the road, taking odd jobs here and there for a few months at a time whilst tracking down whatever shifters she could find, conversing with others of her informal trade and those who knew the Old Legends themselves.  Delilah's been working as an interstate truck driver for the past few years, using her shipping lanes as a convenient excuse to travel about the country while getting paid to do it.

[Vergil1989]

You know, I'm tempted to join this one since I'm trying to get a Supernatural RP off the ground but this seems more my alley lol.  I just started watching the show really and I'd be happy to give this a try.  Just not entirely sure what I'm going to pull for this just yet, but I'll figure something out.  For now, here's the character sheet for when I do get my thoughts together.

Name:  Jason Jefferson.
Character Type: Indoctrinated.
Age;  31
Physical Description and/or image: Sex:  Male.

Sexual Preferences:  Straight.  (Check O/O page for more.  Both the one you make by clicking the link at the top and the one listed in the sig lol.)
Skills:  Hand to hand combat experience.  Military training, the best the Marines could offer a man like JJ.  A natural brawler, Jason trained extensively in many forms of combat until he went home a couple months ago.  Even so, he still trains regularly against a punching bag....or the occasional soul sucking demon from Hell.

Marksmanship.  Sniper rifles are his specialty, but Jason is proficient in many firearms and knows how to take them apart, as well as putting them together, blindfolded if challenged though he's not as fast as some people are.  Even so, he prefers to pick his targets off at a distance, but if the need arises, he loves to the weight of a pump action shotgun in his hands which he's quite deadly with.  Too many FPS games will do that.  (lol.)

Hacker.  He's a computer whiz, having been born around them pretty much.  He started hacking when he was twelve years old, nothing big, just to see if he could get away with it.  His dad taught him everything he knew, and Jason went from there.  Nothing malicious, but information was his specialty and getting it is second nature for him, no matter the source.

Mechanical engineering.  When he wasn't hacking, Jason loved tinkering with anything and everything that moved on wheels.  Car maintenance was a favorite pastime of his, although he did get into a little trouble when he hotwired a car and drove it off into a ditch, at a slow speed thankfully or he wouldn't be around now.  That was when he was 13, and his first driving experience to boot.

Backstory:  JJ, as he was often called as a kid growing up, had a regular childhood for the most part.  No brothers, a single parent that treated him well despite their rocky start.  Mother died giving birth to him, but Dad had gotten on well enough afterward.  A well paying job in the construction business, old man Jefferson might have worked long hours but he always made time for his kid, his one and only joy that he had left in the world.  That gave JJ plenty of time between school and time alone, to get into computers, mostly just picking up the tools of the trade of a hacker at a young age, his keen mind helping him along to keep ahead of those that decided to fight back.  He went after sites that promoted hatred of any kind, destroying them with well placed viruses as well as Trojans, bugs, and other nasties he could cook up, all at the same time of covering his tracks, making it seem he was never there, earning him the nickname Ghost among other hackers, no one suspecting he was just a kid.

Joining the military, more specifically the Marines, just like his old man had before him, Jason left town right after high school graduation, leaving with a perfect academic record, all straight As.  He stayed in from 18 to the age of 25, having earned an honorable discharge.  It was when he came home that he found out the horrible truth of the world, and that it had far more shadows than he ever could have imagined.  War was hell, and he thought he was leaving it all behind.  Rumors of a strange woman popping up in town became prevalent when he moved back into his father's home, but he had thought nothing of it at the time until she came to their house.  JJ was out with a few old friends from his school days, so he didn't see what came into their house until he got home shortly after it was too late, and his father near death, in his own bedroom, looking like a gaunt skeleton.  The woman, a full fledged demon from Hell, a succubus, was firmly planted on his father's dick, riding him for all she was worth and sucking the life out of him at the same time.  His father had apparently tried to fight her off, but it had been no use.

The woman had wings like a bat, horns that curved to the back of her head, and dusky gray skin with red fire like hair falling over her shoulder blades.  His father saw him and couldn't even shout a warning as he climaxed one last time before turning to dust, and the bitch demon from Hell climbed off and turned towards the son.  "Oh, such a strong little man aren't you?"  Her voice seemed to caress Jason's ears, as if she had her lips to them, and despite the horrible scene he had just witnessed, his groin responded long before the rest of him caught up.  "I've had my fill for the night, but I think I might come back for you later."  With a laugh that chilled his bones, Jason watched the succubus disappear in a flash of fire and smoke, leaving Jason with the dust that used to be his father on the bed.  That was the start, and he has yet to find that 'woman', but he knows what is out there and he's made it his personal mission to kill every single one of the bastards he comes across.

Driving his father's car that he and him had put together from scratch, and purred like a kitten for that matter, JJ left it all behind that terrible night without a single word, burning down the homestead in the process since his father would have wanted it that way.  The car his dad had started with his own, and had kept it up pretty well, and it was Jason and his own father that finished it up.  It was the only thing that he had left that wasn't either stolen, made from scratch, or otherwise faked in some form or another.  It was the only thing he kept that was truly his and his family.  And...it was the only thing that he could have bore to take with him without breaking down into tears.

For money, he does fix things when he's asked, for the right price, but otherwise he usually commits credit card fraud, hacking rich people's bank accounts, among other things, although he hates to do that since it leaves a trail.  Beyond that, the occasional odd job helps to keep food in his stomach and ammo in his weapons, as well as gas in the tank of course.

[Starlequin]

Alright, took me long enough, but here we go. What with all the brawlers and tough guys and bad-ass monsters, I figured maybe something with a twist might be interesting. Here's Reginald.

***
Name: Reginald Barker
Character Type: Initiate
Appearance:
Age: 19
Sex: Male
Sexual Preferences: Bisexual

Skills:
Contacts -- Reginald may not be great shakes at much, but he's a lot of friends on the internet, and some of them really know their shit. If something weird's going down, he can usually get in touch with someone more in the know and get some 411 PDQ.

Danger Sense -- Reginald has an extremely well-honed sense of impending danger, mostly thanks to an abusive home life and plenty of practice avoiding the usual school bullies. As a result, he's not exactly Lionheart, but he makes up for it by knowing how to rabbit with the best of them. If there's a hiding spot or a quick exit anywhere nearby, it's a sure bet Reginald can find it, and in a hurry.

Book of Sorrows -- During one of his weekly library crawls, Reginald discovered this book tucked away in the Suspense and Horror Fiction sections he usually haunted, almost as though it were left there just for him. He'd never seen it before, and when he showed it to the librarian on duty, the old woman informed him there was no such book in their files and told him to stop wasting her time. Reg took the book home and began rifling through it, and discovered it was filled with arcane spells and incantations. At first, Reginald wrote it off as some hokey old hoax and shelved it with his comics and back-issues of Phantasmagoria. But every night since he discovered it, he's felt a strange tingle in the back of his head, as though that book is calling out to him. As if it wants him to read it...

Backstory: Reginald was born in Cape Merrin, and according to his mother it's where he'll die. After an unremarkable grade- and high school career, Reggy tried to move out and escape her domineering control, but luck (fate, destiny, whatever the hell you'd wanna call it) just wasn't on his side. Every job he tried fell through, his first apartment was flooded when his upstairs neighbors busted their water main, and his second turned out to be under seige by militaristic rodents. In the end, he was forced to call it quits and move back home, much to his despair.

When he was younger, Reginald had a great relationship with his father. A good man, Sebastian Barker was, kind and patient, and little Reginald thought he hung the moon. The darkest day of Reggy's life was the day they laid him in the ground, a cold and rainy September morning when he was only seven. That was also the day he realized he lived with a genuine, honest-to-God monster. His mother never missed an opportunity to harangue him, and she used every weapon in her considerable arsenal. Oh, she never laid a hand on him, though; her methods were much crueler, and left far worse scars. Every day she offered her son a new lesson on how pathetic, how worthless, how insignificant he was, and ever night she reminded him how much she wished he'd never been born.

That he even made it to puberty, much less through it, was a miracle. Reginald eventually realized his imagination was his only real escape, that the only place he would ever be safe was his own mind, and he lost himself in books, in movies, in journaling. When he was fifteen he discovered the internet, a wonderous place filled with like-minded people who really listened to what he had to say. Through a few chat and email acquaintances he discovered sites that dealt with the bizarre, the unexplained, and the occult, and he's been fascinated ever since. Even though he's a bit of a skeptic at heart, Reginald truly wants to believe, but how can he? Nothing cool or interesting ever happens in Cape Merrin...

[TheHangedOne]

Nice to see someone who can be an active supporter type, Starlequin.  :-) Nice history, too...I can really empathize with him.

[Kaisude]

I was curious to know when wouldn't have a slick shit killer joining. I loved reading his background Star. Don't worry though with all the bad asses here Reg shouldn't have to lift a finger lol.

[Mhina]

But where would be the fun in that?

[Roo]

Hey Everybody,

Just to update, Rick and I are working diligently to build Cape Merrin together, and we're happily cooking up details for you.
For your patience, here's a teaser, and because I'm lame, I can't get it to load in as an image, so I'm sorry you have to click the link!

[TheHangedOne]

Oooh, that is positively delightful, Roo! Squeee.

[Kaisude]

But where would be the fun in that?

Good question. I don't think there would be any fun in that honestly. I would want to do something.

That was a interesting read Roo. Makes the wait all the better.

[Starlequin]

Hey, THM, Kaisude, glad you liked him. I was originally gonna make him way more obnoxious and unlikable, but you know how it is when an idea starts writing itself.

Mhina, don't worry. Reg is a coward and a weakling, but he's not useless. I've got a couple tricks up my sleeves planned for him (pending a lil chat with Rick and Roo to confirm, of course).

Also, I'm guessing its cuz I'm surfing from my phone, but I can't see anything on the linky. *tries to  peek over da fence* whatsit whatsit whatsit??

[Kaisude]

It's a newspaper clip about a girl who was found dead in Devil Bat cave I believe. It's more or less a teaser as to what our characters will looking in to, and what we can expect from the rp. Just a small teaser.

[Starlequin]

Ahh, we see. Much cool, much thanks, Kai.

[Malrunar]

Sweeeeet.  >:)

[Kaisude]

No problem.

Going back to your character.

Well not saying that all obnoxious people are deutsch bags but I kind of like playing the guy who everyone hates, but for some reason puts up with. I guess it's because of who I am or was as a person. Don't worry I'm not an complete ass. Maybe 80%. *shifty eyes*

[rick957]

No problem.

Going back to your character.

Well not saying that all obnoxious people are deutsch bags but I kind of like playing the guy who everyone hates, but for some reason puts up with. I guess it's because of who I am or was as a person. Don't worry I'm not an complete ass. Maybe 80%. *shifty eyes*

Sorry, random lol moment.

Obnoxious people are like ... German luggage?  :)

[Aurora Wayland]

Oooh. I loved the link. A mystery needs solving! *scooby dooby doo music plays!*

[AndyZ]

Here's the trick to putting up images, or at least what I use, Roo.  I'll post it here so that everybody knows my trick, just in case some other people had some trouble, but I'll also remove this if it seems too condescending or anything mean.

Go to http://imageshack.us/ and upload the picture.

Clicking around a bit, right click the image and click "Open Image in New Tab" a few times.  New Window works fine too if your browser doesn't have multiple tabs.

Eventually you'll get an image name of just that picture, which is a direct link.  You'll know because it'll have just the picture in the window/tab and it'll end in the file name, jpg or whatever.

Here's a link to this one's direct link: http://img339.imageshack.us/img339/3284/tanyadeerhornclipping.jpg

After you do that, you want to put down the picture's URL (as in the link to the picture), select it with your mouse and click the Insert Image button directly below the B for Bold.

The final result looks like this:

[Roo]

Thanks Andy, I don't normally have issues with the stupid upload spot I use, but apparently my newspaper clipping messed it up.

[Vergil1989]

I'm looking forward to this myself thanks to someone showing me I could watch Supernatural online lol.  This remind me of that show so far that I've already watched most of the first season for.

[Kaisude]

I'm looking forward to this myself thanks to someone showing me I could watch Supernatural online lol.  This remind me of that show so far that I've already watched most of the first season for.

That's a great show to be honest though I don't watch it faithfully. I catch it every once in a while and enjoy not knowing what's going on.

[Roo]

Hi All,

To clarify the status of Heads Will Roll: we have our maximum number of characters in play or under construction now. If you're interested in taking part, PM either myself or Rick957 and we'll add you to our waiting list.

Accepted characters have been notified, and we are still waiting on characters from a few people who have expressed interest (Esoteric Myobi, Odin, and MistressofPen). I'll ask everyone who has been accepted to please travel over to the Heads Will Roll Character Thread located here. Post up your final versions of your sheets with your occupation/income source included. Many thanks! If you're one of the people who hasn't posted a character yet, please either PM it to Rick and I or post it here in the Want Ad thread, so we can discuss it before issuing final acceptance/denial/request for revisions.

This thread will also be a spot for a plot summary, once we've had the plot begin, and I'll be posting details about Cape Merrin shortly--not everything about the city, but a sense of the overall districts.

I've also gotten the OOC thread up, so feel free to take chat there now if you like.


I'll post a link to the IC thread here, once we get that up too.

Roo

[MistressofPen]

Name:  Allison “Al” Garvey

Character Type:  Indoctrinated

Physical Description: 28 years old, pretty, 5’9”, long dark hair, pale blue eyes, pierced left eyebrow, tattoo of the eye of horus on her shoulder blade-a piece visible when she wears her usual uniform of wife beater tank and jeans.

Sexual Preference:  Hetero and vanilla experience so far.

Skills
   Daring:  Has been known to try anything at least once.  Not fearless, just not controlled by fear.
   
   Planner:  Can see the end from the start and able to see pitfalls before they happen.

   Running:  She’s fast.  Went to college on a track scholarship; got a liberal arts degree which earned her a job as a research assistant for a professor.

   Research:  She knows how to find out things.  If she hits a dead end, she usually finds another way to her goal.

   Hard-headed:  This is a good trait in that she isn’t a follower just because; people would have to convince her their way was better than hers.  This is a bad trait because she might argue about the color of the sky if she took a dislike to someone.

. _ .

Cape Merrin, fucking Maine, Allison thought, standing beside her steaming car.  A light had lit on the dash a few hours before, but she’d stuck a piece of gum over the light and turned up the stereo in case anything made noise because she wasn’t stopping.  Well, until she had to. Even now, after 8 hours of driving, she felt she hadn’t gone far enough.

It had been the middle of the night when her mother’s drunken boyfriend had come home to knock her mother around some.  It was a weekly occurrence.  Allison had listened for a few minutes as the sounds escalated before grabbing her baseball bat and charging down the hall.  Her mother was watching Ghost Hunters on TV; she loved all of that paranormal, Syfy crap. 

Now, the sonofabitch was losing it, holding her mother to the couch by her hair and ---  Allison stepped back, bat raised.  She couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

“Get off her, asshole,” Allison said.

The man looked up, his eyes gone black from lid to lid and blood coating his lips.

Allison stared.

He licked his lips and it almost looked like he smiled.  Allison swung for the moon, the bat connecting with his head and knocking him back.

Her eyes took in her mother’s ravaged neck and she felt like she might pass out.  The blood oozed.  If her heart was beating, Allison knew the blood should shoot across the room from the carotid artery if not the jugular.  She had to look away. If she passed out, she knew she’d be dead, too.

Too.

Allison turned and ran for the back door.  She got there a split second before what had been her mother’s boyfriend caught up, moving with odd-sounding steps after Al.  A glance back and she feinted to the side; avoiding being impaled by his claws at the last second, feeling the wind caused by his movement pass her face.  Allison turned and ran into the dining room and towards the front door, knocking chairs and tables over in her wake.  The front door was unlocked and she jerked herself around it and out.
He grunted and growled as he chased her.  There were thumps as he fell, not moving too well for some reason.  He hit the door, catching Allison’s hand in it.

Allison screamed, but stuck the bat in the door to lever it open and pull free.  She ran to the end of the porch, leaped over the rail, screaming to wake the dead, and wrenched open the door of her old VW bug.  The bug was on its last legs and had to be pop started, so was always parked facing the street at the top of the drive.  Allison released the brake, pushed it a few steps, then paused, wondering why he didn’t follow her. 

Curiosity was killing her...  She slammed the brake on and ran to the window by the drive.  He was skewered, leaning against the front door.  He hadn’t intentionally caught her hand in the door.  It appeared a broken picture frame or chair had pierced him.  He wasn’t dead, he was just immobile.

His eyes slid towards the window.

It was enough for Allison.  She ran back to her car and got the hell away.

She was heading for Canada, maybe a ship somewhere...somewhere safe. 

Allison hated that she ran, that she left her mother.  She wanted to go back and find out what had happened, to finish Gerry off...if that was Gerry.  What was he?  She felt shaky as words popped into her head from those stupid games her friends had all played in high school.  Vampire.  Nosferatu.  Allison had never believed.  All those stories of Count Dracula were from some sick bastard who liked to put people on stakes and drink their blood to scare his enemies.  And, with rapists and child molesters and serial murderers, why did we need other monsters? She wondered, wrapping her arms around herself, shivering.  She looked at her VW and sighed, shivering in the pre-dawn chill.

That was five years ago.  Al had settled in Cape Merrin by necessity; no money and no transportation.  She took a job at a local pub, putting her liberal arts degree to good use pulling beers and fending off the advances of the drunks.  Now that she knew, now that she’d had a slap in the face from reality, she kept watch and saw things that made her stomach roil.  Someone should do something, she thought—never thinking she was that someone.