Ethan and Hex stood frozen in place. He turned around and pressed his eye close to the peephole, peering outside. It wasn't Khovansky and Evans—it was... those two from last night.
A tall, broad-shouldered man wearing a mask and a blond man in a trench coat that emitted a purple glow from the back. Without waiting for any response, the blond man pulled a handful of small objects from his pocket—five copper seals? He tossed one of them onto the door. Ethan instinctively stepped back and raised his gun. Seeing Ethan's reaction, Hex seemed to realize what was happening.
About 2-3 seconds passed, but for some reason, Ethan had a feeling the door was going to explode, and the two men would burst in.
He wasn't far off, but instead of an explosion, the door simply vanished—as if it had never existed.
A sharp spike of flesh shot out from behind, aimed at the two intruders. Blood splattered, but they seemed to have anticipated this. The masked man ducked, avoiding the spike, and lunged forward like a bullet, while the blond man had already positioned himself out of the spike's reach.
Ethan glanced back to see Hex transformed into a blood-soaked figure, tendrils erupting from her body and tearing away her skin. That was the source of the blood. The masked man and Hex engaged in a furious melee, their movements so fast they left only afterimages.
Hex used those tendrils as weapons, her eyes now blood-red, pushing her powers to the limit. Yet the masked man dodged her attacks effortlessly, the markings on his mask shifting constantly. With inhuman strength, he grabbed one of the tendrils that had morphed into a giant claw and delivered a solid punch to her face.
In the split second Ethan was distracted, he felt someone tackle him. His finger pulled the trigger reflexively. The gunfire wasn't bright in the daylight, and the confined space did nothing to muffle the sound. Suddenly, he found himself on the ground, ears ringing, as the blond man wrested the gun from his grip and threw the copper seals into the corners of the room.
Hex was losing ground. Sensing the moment, she severed one of her own tendrils and hurled herself toward the window. Crash! She collided with an invisible barrier—the space shimmered with purple ripples where the seals were placed. The masked man was quick to follow, grabbing her by the throat.
Ethan, lying on the floor, suddenly noticed that the mask he'd thrown into his bag last night had somehow reappeared on his face. He scrambled to his feet as a strange symbol appeared on the blank mask. Everything shifted into slow motion again—another adrenaline rush?
He lunged toward the blond man, feeling unnaturally fast. Just as he was about to land a punch that might have killed him, the blond man turned around, their eyes meeting. Ethan froze.
In the man's deep blue eyes, a triangular symbol flashed and disappeared. Ethan's body locked up, as if struck by a freezing ray. He stood there, arm raised, paralyzed.
His stomach churned, breath quickened, pupils dilated, and bile rose in his throat. A shudder ran up his spine, exploding in his skull like an alarm. He tried to shout, but the sound stuck in his lungs.
The blond man reached into his pocket again, pulling out a collar. He ignored Ethan and walked over to the now-defeated Hex. The masked man had stood up, leaving the girl barely conscious. Bending down, the blond man fastened the collar around her neck. The tendrils fell away, writhing on the floor like severed worms.
...
After securing the suppressor around the ghoul, Harvey stood up, checking the chamber of his recovered gun. Four bullets left. He shook out a few silver bullets from the revolver's cylinder, slipping them back into his pocket.
"What are you doing?" the father asked, tugging at the collar. The ghoul opened her mouth to bite his hand, but he dodged. Harvey picked up the portable Ritualgrams and approached the immobilized Ethan.
"Isn't it true that hunters can't get stronger?"
"Because the contracted hypostasis is most likely dead."
"Then I think you know what I'm planning."
"That's a terrible idea—he's barely of age."
"How old were you when you killed that vampire?"
"I had no choice. You can't force someone to lift the veil."
"But someone forced you."
"Fine, do whatever you want. Just don't let me see another dead kid."
Harvey slicked back his hair, removing the cigarette from his mouth. A cloud of smoke blew across Ethan's face, the boy trembling in cold sweat, paralyzed with terror.
"Mugridge, I've heard a lot about you," he said, seemingly to himself. "I know why you want that 25,000... I'm impressed. You kept your cool for a first-timer facing this kind of situation. Coincidentally, I'm looking for an assistant. Would you be interested? Here's my number."
He fished a card out of his pocket and slipped it into Ethan's jeans, waving to the father as he dragged the ghoul out of the room. Harvey glanced back.
"Think it over."
They shut the door, which had reappeared as mysteriously as it had vanished, and headed downstairs. The young man at the reception desk didn't seem to have heard the gunshot, thanks to the sound-dampening properties of the ritualgrams, but he still jumped when he saw them dragging a bloodied girl down the hall. Harvey ignored him—Rayon should be waiting outside.
A yellow van was parked in front of the hotel. A slender... man was inside, with long hair, heavy makeup, and a faux fur coat. Harvey knew it was fake.
"Good morning!" He blinked, his false eyelashes fluttering like feathers, though his eyebrows had been shaved off. Harvey nodded impatiently as the father opened the van's back door, tossing the ghoul inside. The growing crowd of onlookers paid no mind.
"Who's she?" the man asked.
"The target."
"Obviously, but what about that handsome guy?"
"He's still considering it, but it won't take long."
Harvey climbed into the van, while the father settled into the backseat. But Leon pointed a purple-polished finger at him.
"Hey, hey, hey, Speck, we've talked about this."
Only then did Harvey notice the cigarette in his mouth. He removed it, flicked it to the ground, and crushed it underfoot.
"Stop dawdling. Let's go."