DAGON MANSION

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: THE FOURTH RITUAL CRIME

WARNING: This chapter has scenes of physical and verbal child abuse.

The case of the ritual murders had been buried beneath layers of silence.
Forgotten, or rather, forced into forgetfulness.
Only Theolinda Brady still remembered. And even she dared not speak — for who would believe her whispers of vampires in a world that preferred the illusion of order?

That morning, Glouminster awoke beneath a shroud of fog. The scent of sea salt mingled with the faint copper of blood.
A baker found it first — the small, still body of Marna Redmund, aged thirteen, behind a garbage bin near the main street.

Marna, with her silken chestnut hair and turquoise eyes, had gone out early to fetch her favorite morning bread. When her mother went searching, she found the child sprawled upon the cobblestones, her throat opened like a second mouth. The dawn was just breaking, painting her pale face in rose and silver.

A witness had seen a shadow in black — running — vanishing into the mist.
The horror spread through town like a fever.
Four victims now.
And this time, a child.

Mayor Lewin Brantley, pale beneath his civic cheer, convened a press conference in the cold marble hall. Tourism had fallen by a quarter since the killings began; the town's lifeblood was draining away. He spoke of courage and unity, of protecting the innocent, of "swift and exemplary punishment" — invoking the specter of the Shadow Cult as a symbol of order restored.

But his words rang hollow, and everyone knew it.

Behind closed doors, Commissioner Allon Blake slammed his fist on the desk. The glass trembled. He summoned his detectives, Tyler Rogers and Theolinda Brady.

"The mayor wants a scapegoat," Blake hissed. "But I want the truth. We have a murderer — or worse — walking in our streets. And we look like fools."

Rogers started to speak, but Blake's glare cut him short.

"No excuses. No ghosts, no cults. Just results. Rogers, your arrest nearly destroyed this department. Do something useful for once. Go."

The meeting ended in silence. Outside, rain began to fall — thin, silver threads drawing veils across the town.

Later, in the half-dark of the prison private visiting room, Theolinda rested against Ryan's chest. Their bodies were still warm from love, but her mind could not leave the crime behind.

"She was only thirteen," she whispered, tracing circles on his skin. "Her mother found her. It was... unspeakable."

Ryan exhaled. The dim light from the barred window cut his face in two — one side shadow, one side tenderness.

"It has to end," he said.

"Are you thinking of seeing Alexandra again?" she asked quietly.

"Don't start, Theo. Jealousy is unbecoming of you."

"It's not jealousy. It's fear. How would you even leave this place?"

Ryan's lips curved into a ghost of a smile.

"Theo... I can vanish whenever I wish."

"Invisible?" she echoed, shivering slightly.

He nodded.

For a moment, she saw in him both man and apparition.

"By the way," she murmured, "Mia's back in Glouminster. I saw her in the market."