Patient B-2

Chapter Nine: Wrath

The sound of heavy panting from both Cierien and Sophie, coupled with the slamming door, jolts me out from behind my laptop. I observe with growing concern as they rush toward me, panic etched across their faces. Cierien is the first to speak, his hand tightly clutching a phone, which he waves frantically before me. "Idalia- she... she dropped this. Wrath, she dropped this!"

My eyes zero in on the damaged phone, cracked with colorful lines running down the home screen. "What are you talking about?" I ask, keeping my composure as I watch the frantic man thrust the phone in my direction.

The phone appears barely functional, its screen spasming with each flicker of light. As I examine it closely, I quickly notice the complete state of disarray my two friends are in. Their clothes are askew, matching their tousled hair. Vampires aren't prone to sweating easily, yet the droplet trickling down Cierien's face prompts me to wonder what they must have endured to arrive in such a state. Sophie, meanwhile, is huffing and puffing, a hand over her chest in an attempt to calm her non-beating heart. She resembles someone who's just completed a 5k race, a feat that should be trivial for our species.

"Idalia, we saw her. We were shopping, and then boom, blonde hair. Followed her and then darts. Wrath, it was crazy-"

"Stop speaking until you can do so coherently," I interject, halting him from continuing further. His frazzled state only exacerbates my irritation, his words tumbling out in a nonsensical jumble.

Sophie takes over for him, her tone more composed. "We saw her downtown and followed her into an alleyway. We were attacked, but not by her."

"WWA," Cierien blurts out, drawing in a deep breath before continuing. "Safe to assume it was WWA. They were shooting little darts at us."

"So, you found Idalia, and then got attacked by WWA seconds later?" I clarify, ensuring I've understood everything correctly.

"Yes," they both say in unison.

"So... what I'm hearing is I was right?" I inquire, a note of vindication in my tone. I had suspected that the deaths of eighteen researchers were not mere coincidence. Despite their doubts, I had recognized Idalia on the footage. It's not every day that an entire warehouse filled with important individuals goes up in flames, and it's certainly no coincidence when a platinum blonde is spotted walking in the opposite direction just a block over.

"Fuck off, we're here because we found merit in your theory," Sophie retorts, shoving a shoulder into me as she settles into the seat beside me.

She takes the phone, tapping the screen a few times before the passcode prompt appears. "It's a six-digit code. Any ideas?" she asks, turning to me expectantly.

Finally, I close the laptop, where I've been meticulously monitoring every scrap of found footage around the area of the fire, hoping to catch a glimpse of where the blonde disappeared to. So far, my efforts have yielded nothing useful regarding her whereabouts after the incident. She vanishes approximately four blocks away from the scene. I've tapped into every camera feed I could think of- traffic cameras, shop surveillance, even home security cameras- but she simply doesn't appear on any of them.

"Cierien, you knew her best," I say, turning to him for insight.

He takes a moment to ponder, his gaze dropping in deep thought. "Well, from what I can recall, she didn't seem to have any particular obsessions. She enjoyed reading and gardening, but I don't remember her ever fixating on anything. Maybe we should try herbirthday?" he suggests, his tone thoughtful.

Sophie groans, shaking her head in disbelief. "Idalia Wellington would never be so predictable as to use her own birthday as her password. She may be self-centered, but she's far too intelligent for that," she asserts.