SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES, henry mills

chapter six

CHAPTER SIX
PATROL

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Having to hunt under a blood moon had never been one of Josie's favourite situations. While they were relatively rare, she still always dreaded the nights where the sunset turned blood red. It was hard enough to have an advantage against the undead in normal circumstances, but they would be stronger tonight. And not only that, but she had people to protect with her, and a whole town's worth of people who didn't know what was coming for them.

It was a lot of pressure to say the least.

Walking the strange streets of the combined Nightmoor and Storybrooke, Josie kept her grip tight on her crossbow and her eyes alert, always scanning for any kind of movement around them. It was mostly silent as they walked, only the occasional gust of wind that carried a screeching cry from the direction of the woods.

The first time that wind had whistled by them carrying that bloodcurdling scream, Regina, Henry and Robin had believed that they should follow the sound of the cry, believing that someone was in distress. That was, of course, when Josie, Oliver and Eugene were forced to explain that it was not a person making that sound and following it would not lead to them aiding anyone, but more than likely ending up in more danger themselves.

She had told them that vampires weren't the only thing they'd encounter, after all.

"So, what was that before?" Henry asked.

"Shh," Josie instructed.

"What was that before?" Henry repeated in a whisper.

Josie sighed. "We really must keep talking to a minimum. We do not need anything out there to hear us."

"We can't talk at all?" Regina asked.

"Not unless it is strictly necessary," Josie snapped. "We must do everything we can not to be overheard by those we hunt."

"But shouldn't we know what's out there?" Robin asked.

Clenching her jaw, Josie stopped and turned to face the others. Her patience was beginning to wear thin with all of these questions on top of the tense hunt and everything else that was going on around them. But she also knew that they didn't know of the dangers of her world. Them not knowing could end up being just as dangerous as anything they came across.

"What you heard was what we call a banshee," she said.

"A banshee?"

"A wailing woman," Oliver provided.

"They herald death." Josie paused. "Someone will die tonight. At least one life will be lost."

"We're not going to let that happen," Regina said.

"It is inevitable," Josie argued. "The wailing woman is never wrong. And this was inevitable anyways, the residents of Storybrooke do not know how to protect themselves from the blood moon. I told you already that their homes will be targets."

"Well, we don't accept that," Regina said.

Josie scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Denial will not change the facts. We are a finite group, we cannot be everywhere all at once. The residents of Nightmoor not only know to protect themselves on a blood moon, but their homes are equipped to do so. Tell me, does your home have steel coverings that come down over the windows to prevent ingress and stores of salt to line outer walls so that the undead cannot cross?"

"No, obviously we don't—"

"Then those homes that are not protected will be targets, as I have continuously told you. How many times are you going to make me to repeat myself?"