NOTUM: Study Of A Nightwalker ✔️

Where?

He opened his eyes, which immediately made him see that he was hung upside down in a cold storage. The twisting rope gave him a full three-sixty degree view. People of all shapes and sizes hung in rows, most were young and well clothed, like bats in a cave.

He stopped as he saw movement from beneath the twin doors of the storage a few meters away. The creak of the hinges made him freeze, as two ladies ran inside. They bolted the door and collapsed panting hard.

Their uniforms were barely recognizable, but Firenze could make out that he was still in the hotel from their matching black hair, now ruined. They seemed to have chosen unpleasantly dark furred woolen stockings and silver clogs over their usual red heels, and he wondered why he was commenting on their fashion choices. It was tough to concentrate on their faces, especially when the world was toppled over.

"Did she see us?" One of them whispered

"I don't think so. We'll have to move the meat before it gets here." mumbled the other as they pressed their ears close to the door. No sound was heard in the hallway of the hotel kitchen on the other side.

The ladies exchanged a sigh of relief, stood up and began removing the bodies suspended from their ropes. One of them fetched a cart and began helping the other load the corpses on to it. One by one, as the cart was nearing him and getting heavier with each body, Firenze stretched his neck backwards to get a better look at the man-eaters.

One of them saw the movement and turned her head to look at him. He froze, trying his best not to move. Soon, he felt hands on his ankles and a sweet voice spoke,

"I know that you're awake, Mr. Di Mario."

His cheeks burned as he opened his eyes slowly, "You're standing on the ceiling."

"You're upside down. I'll get the ropes undone in a second."

The rope twisted to return to its original position and they were face to face. The maid looked malnourished, paler and weak. Her eyes were honey colored, shaped like a doe's. She did seem to be timid as she quivered at her sister's commanding voice; she wasn't faking her innocence, merely suppressing it.

"You're going to serve me for dinner, aren't you?"

She raised her face to his, her eyes moist and listless. Firenze was sure that she had been faking her sorrow just to catch him for supper earlier, but now he was shocked by the present expression she had on her face. He felt that she wasn't pretending to be sad; she really was,

"I'm sorry Mr. Di Mario, I really truly am. I know that you won't possibly trust me after betraying your trust like this, but please try to understand . . ."

She looked down at her feet, and Firenze followed her gaze. Those weren't woolen stockings and silver clogs she had on her feet, but two sturdy legs, furred and hoofed. The blood flow to his brain didn't help; he looked like a preschooler seeing the theory of relativity being derived on the board.

She continued, "Surprise, I guess, hehe. Please don't stare at my feet, I know that they're weird. They're not mine exactly, not anymore."

Firenze looked at her.

"What happened to you?"

She wiped a tear off her eyes, hiding her face so that her superior wouldn't see it. She removed the ropes and gently placed him onto the cart as her sister returned with a pair of wine glasses.

"Have a drink; it's a long month ahead for us."

The maid held the glasses as the other lady, the receptionist, gently walked to the cart. A kitchen knife on the floor reflected the light off the hallway into her eyes, and she picked it up, hoping that the monster chasing them down wouldn't catch them here. She fixed her vision on Firenze's forearm and lifted it, examining for an artery to cut.

The maid mustered up her courage, looked at Firenze and said,

"He looks a bit too sick to me. Why don't you select someone further down?"

The receptionist placed her hands on her hips, "Selby, you still have lots to learn. I did notice the scars and the flabbiness. But more flab means more fats, more fats means more heat conservation. More heat conservation means that we could actually survive this dratted humidity without turning into rotten mouldy corpses!"

"But."

"No arguments, Selby. What do you think will happen to us if that wretch were to catch us stealing Nightwalker feed?"

A low rumble shook the ground like a mini earthquake, causing the rest of the bodies to swing violently and the kitchen shelves to fall over, creating a cacophony of cutlery and broken china. The two ladies stopped dead in their tracks and crouched behind the cart as a shadow darkened the doorway.