Chapter 30: Casanova's Mission
Casanova left his car and started to walk amidst the rural landscape, his hood draped over his head.
Most of the city was covered in a bright green grass that extended as far as the eyes could see, with the only places exempt by it being the crack-filled streets, sidewalks, and houses.
It was a long time ever since civil engineers and asphalt workers had come to their city. Whether it was caused by the city's lack of public funding or by negligence by the mayor, however, was unknown.
Had Casanova come to their town for a mere construction work, he would have left their city a spotless haven, free from any kind of hazardous and neglected environments.
His purpose of going over to Corveno was completely different, however.
Casanova placed one of the two suitcases on the sidewalk. He then reached for his right pocket and took out a small slip of paper.
Inside it, the more likely addresses belonging to the Nephilim were written: 2nd Trisdonomi's Street, 5th White Gardens' Street, 1st Nightingale Road, and the last one, 7th Striduli's Avenue.
Following the long, empty road, he looked at the landscape, noticing that weren't any elders walking with their companions, nor children frolicking in the green fields.
Even though the city had less people than Rosano, it was eerily quiet, thought the cause might have been their fear of getting kidnapped like those girls.
However, that too, was bizarre. How was it possible for them to fear an old woman so much? Wouldn't the more immature and younger teenagers go outside, thinking of being safe by considering their youthful strength? Was there something hidden about that rogue Nephilim and the townsfolk? Did they not tell the police, fearful of the consequences?
Or rather, was it because of the sixth sense that made humans avoid other-worldly matters like the plague?
Nonetheless, he had to enter some of the houses to ask for more information about the Nephilim, for the ones he had received from his old colleague weren't perfect.
…
Casanova talked with the people who lived in 2nd Trisdonomi's street, 5th White Gardens' Street and in 1st Nightingale road. They didn't possess any info, or rather, it was possible they refrained for giving it.
Now, he had to visit Striduli's Avenue.
Casanova walked into a small garden connecting to a small house.
There were many ceramics vases near the entrance of the wooden house. They contained roses, lavender flowers, orchids and daffodils. They were all dead, however, their stems bent in angular, unnatural positions.
Noting the strange occurrence, he silently walked on the three small front wooden steps.
He wanted to ring the homeowner's doorbell, but quickly found its absence. Instead, on the door there was a metallic door knocker, resembling the head of an horned gargoyle.
'Gorgoyles, beings believed to be able of frightening evil spirits, used as a guardians for castles and churches…' he calmly observed.
He grabbed the freezing handle positioned inside the monster's mouth and slammed it on the wooden door three times, creating a thundering noise, impossible for the homeowners to ignore.
The man soon heard loud stomping noises paired with a grumbling voice.
After a few second, an older gentleman opened the door.
His scalp was almost fully exposed, with a small amounts of thin, white hair spread over small patches of his wrinkly head. His eyes were aged, having a milky tint to them, resembling the effects of cataract. He also wore a vintage green sweater paired with black trousers.
"Is there something I may help you with, sir?" he asked with a polite smile on his face.
Casanova produced a realistic looking badge with the emblem of The Italian Republic from his back pocket, and solemnly said, "Greetings, I have some questions to ask you, may I enter?"
The gentleman's eyes twitched for no less than a second, but with Casanova's tremendously sharp senses and perception, he noticed his action.
The elderly man stared at the replica of the emblem for some moments before nodding, making way for Casanova, exposing the interior of his house.
His living room was mostly empty, filled with only the more fundamental furniture: an old sofa with a smaller tv in front of it, a table, some chairs and some drawers.
On top of the drawers, there were multiple framed pictures of a seemingly happy family. Thanks to his keen vision, Casanova was able to even see of whom the family was composed of.
A younger version of the gentleman and an woman were smiling and embracing each-other in a hug, while next to them, two children, a boy and a girl, were pointing at them while covering their mouth in a playfully disgusted expression.
"What could be the reason for your visit?" the gentleman asked while closing the wooden door behind him, keeping his façade of politeness.
"The same reason as the other detectives and police," Casanova briefly answered, aware that the forces of order had already begun their investigations.
The elder's gritted his teeth after hearing his words. "You've already questioned us multiple times. Yet you still didn't find anything." he pointed at Casanova, "Are you going to stop bothering us and start doing your job properly?"
The Nephilim ignored him and silently walked towards the drawer filled with the framed photos.
He picked one of the pictures and asked, pointing at the woman, "Who's this?"
"Put it down." the man barked. "What do you think you're doing? First you enter my house, and now you you think you're who-knows what?"
"I asked you a question." Casanova tersely said, his voice devoid of any emotions. "Do I need to repeat myself? Do you need me to bring you into the police station for infringing an active investigation?" he threatened.
"That's my wife—why do you care?" he replied annoyedly.
As he stopped in his tracks, his eyes widened. "Do you think that she's the psychopath going over the town and kidnapping people!?" he snapped, raising his voice.
"They should be the same age, by now." Casanova placed the picture on the drawer.
"Your unfounded aggressiveness towards me is also suspicious." he added.
Casanova himself didn't really think of his wife being the rogue Nephilim, but he wanted to persist on pushing his buttons in a way that'll make him expose the information the townsfolk of Corveno might be hiding.
The elder inhaled slowly before apologizing for his brash behavior and remarks.
"Just follow me," he said dismissively.
As the two walked deeper into his house, Casanova looked around.
He stared inside the bathroom's door, noticing bottles of beer, smashed glass, plates full of moldy and rotten food with flies and maggots infesting it.
It was as if madman was actively living there.
When they reached the end of the hallway, the man pleaded.
"Please, don't make too much noise."
He opened the wooden door quietly, and the image of a bed-ridden, old woman reflected on Casanova's eyes. Her hair was matted and covered with knots, while her clothes were covered by dried stains of unknown liquids.
Her eyes were shut, making her appear more dead than alive.
Her room was also clean like the living room.
'This…!'
Pure particles of quintessence poured at him like the powerful winds of a cyclone, causing Casanova to stop in his tracks. Three seconds after he activated Dusk Catcher, the revealed outcome was that there weren't any dangerous elements inside the room.
"She's not dead," the elder exclaimed, staring at Casanova's blank expression, worried about getting arrested.
"It's rheumatoid arthritis, stage four," he brought his gaze towards her, his expression grim.
"She couldn't move even if she wanted to. There's no reason for you to suspect her."
"You're leaving her in these conditions?" Casanova asked.
If he hadn't been wearing The Mask of Sahvin and was could feel emotions, he would have felt a great deal of disgust towards the elderly man's actions.
"I-I know," he replied dismissively.
"If she's not able to walk, who made that mess?" Casanova pointed at the bathroom.
The elderly man started to sweat profusely, adjusting his sweater's collar.
"I-In this situation, I'm truly alone."
"The only thing that gives me solace is booze. I-I drink the whole night, finding myself passed out drunk in the bathroom hour later, with my p-pants soiled."
"How come your living room—the place where people usually drink—is completely clean, then? Shouldn't you do the same with your bathroom?"
'He's hiding something.' Casanova narrowed his eyes.
"P-Pardon?" the older man asked, a drop of sweat slowly streaking from his forehead, down to his chin.
As the Nephilim looked at him without uttering a single breath, the elder looked guilty with every passing moment.
"So?" Casanova finally spoke.
The elder immediately stammered for an answer, but when no words came out of his mouth, Casanova's grabbed his wrinkled neck, raising his body in the air with force.
"There's this kid I know."
"He used to joke around with me, years ago. He ranted of how his sister kept on ordering him to clean his personal room when they had guests over, although they obviously weren't going to enter it…" Casanova lips slowly quivered and rose up, forming an eerie smile.
The Mask of Sahvin drained the emotions out of every living person that wore it, so, if an user wanted to show an ounce of emotion, they'd have to force it, evoking the so called 'uncanny valley' in the people who saw them.
"What about you? Are you cleaning your living room and your wife's bedroom because you're expecting someone?"
"N-No!" he stammered painfully.
"So be it," Casanova expression dropped, returning emotionless.
After a moment, he slammed the elder's body against the wooden door, unhinging it completely. The Nephilim then dropped him, his body falling on the floor.
The elder immediately screamed in pain, trying to limp away from Casanova.
Although the Nephilim's actions had produced a significant amount of noise, the elder's wife was still sleeping.
Suspicious of her, Casanova went to check his wife's condition.
The elder couldn't escape—his body was too messed up for that.
As soon as he came close to his wife, the elder man turned around, yelling and pleading for him not to touch her. Ignoring him, Casanova inspected the older woman's face. He turned it around with his large hands, checking behind her ears.
'There aren't any incantations written there…'
He moved the hair from her forehead and examined it, but even there, nothing was wrong.
'No paralysis inducing sigils either.'
He checked her arms, noticing the presence of small, syringe like punctures.
With further inspection, he saw that they resembled a caduceus, a sign formed by a winged, solemn staff with two intertwined snakes under it.
'This sign belongs to the cover of The Hermetical Canons of Immortality.'
'Like I thought, she was here. Was she doing experiments on her? But that's strange, there's no reason for her to take her blood, she's not a virgin.'
Casanova closed his eyes and took his time to think, activating Intra to further his progress.
'She's injecting blood, not taking it… Is it possible that she's injecting the blood of those three girls? But if so, what would be the point of it?'
'In the pieces of The Hermetical Canons of Immortality we theorized she had, it spoke of acquiring eternal youth with the requisites of bathing in virgin blood, not injecting it to someone else.'
'Even then, she could possess more pieces of the book that we know of. Maybe injecting virgin blood in a way that resembles the caduceus may work for healing a human's body…'
'Her actions resemble a rite of affliction, the act of mitigating the forces causing people bad-luck, injuries, sicknesses and every misfortune.'
Casanova turned around, noticing that the man was close to the door and was near to opening it.
'He's trying to run away after yelling that much for his wife's safety… It appears he's trying to contact that woman.'
The elderly man was about to grab the handle of the door, and seeing that, Casanova was about to walk there to drag him away.
Just then, he remembered an important sign about the wooden door, or precisely, the door knocker resembling a gargoyle.
'Gargoyles, mysterious creature known to frighten those same forces causing bad luck… I'm sure now, she's performing a rite of affliction.'
'I don't understand of why a Nephilim who kidnapped more than three girls would gain from healing a normal person like her, however.'
'I must observe this family.'
Casanova walked towards the elder, bent down, and grabbed him by his collar, jerking him back to where he once was.
"Who are you?" he grunted in pain. "You're no damn cop."
"It's not your business." Casanova replied concisely. 'I know you met the kidnapper."
"What?" the elder blurted out.
"You better listen to me carefully." Casanova calmly said, his tone chilling.
"If you don't tell me everything you know, those girls will die. Your daughter should be the same age as them by now, am I right? What if she'll get caught by her because you didn't give me the information I seek?"
For the first time in their conversation, Casanova felt hesitancy by his part.
By then, he knew he was punching the right buttons.
The elderly man avoided his gaze in fear.
"Some days—or weeks ago, (my mind is a mess these days…) While I was out getting some booze, she came to me. She informed me of possessing a method that would heal my wife—for a method that would bring her to safety. She said that there would be a cost, but I didn't care about the consequences—I had to accept."
"That day, I cleaned my house for the first time in months, and I didn't drink for the same amount of time."
"I waited and waited for her, and three days later, she came, bringing various items in her purse. I reckon were oils, ointment, and possibly incense. She told me to lead her into my wife's room, and I followed her orders."
"She then told me to leave my own house. I wanted my wife to be the utmost care, so I followed her instructions again."
"When she was done, she told me to not to touch my wife's body, or it would interfere with her 'medicine,' as she called it."
"But one day, while I was struggling with my abstinence from alcohol, I ended up entering our matrimonial room, and I saw what in the world she was doing with my wife."
The elderly man was visibly shaking and sweating profusely, forming wet-patches on his chest and armpits.
"The room was all foggy, filled by a cold purple smoke. I saw the woman inject her right arm with a dark red liquid. By seeing the puddle under the woman, I then realized it was blood, real blood."
"As I shrieked with horror, she turned around, and by that, I mean her neck—it rotated completely!" he clutched his face. "I-I can still remember the bones cracking, the cartilage creaking…"
"As her body slowly rotated around like it did with her neck, she jolted towards me. I was completely paralyzed, I couldn't even escape! And then, my mind went blank…"
"The morning later, I felt awfully sick, feeling a strong hint of iron in my ugula, at the back of my throat. I went inside our bathroom to freshen up, and on the mirror, I saw a message made by streaks of blood."
IF YOU SPEAK OF WHAT YOU'VE SEEN, SHE WILL DIE BY FACING CHTHONIC TORTURES, UNUTTERABLE ACTS THAT WERE AVOIDED BY EVEN THE MOST DEVOTED, VEHEMENT FOLLOWERS OF THE OLD GODS.
MY THOUSAND SCALY EYES ARE EVERYWHERE.
THEY CAN SEE YOU, EVEN RIGHT NOW.
"I think there was—I think there was something else in the bathroom, but I'm not sure… My memories of that day are still foggy…"
"I stayed silent, but after some time, I read the news of the disappearances. And then…I knew the blood belonged to them. But what was I supposed to do? Had I told the truth to the cops, it would have meant killing my wife. I couldn't do that—I couldn't do that…!"
"The guilt was too strong for me. I had to drown myself with more and more booze. I don't know how, but every morning after I woke up, my wife seemed to be doing better. Her paleness receded, and she was starting to have a more healthy glow."
"I wondered if the woman was breaking into our house, giving her 'medicine' to my wife, but even then, I didn't care. She was saving my dear, I wasn't in the place to argue."
"But now…if I think of my daughter being in the position of these girls sickens me to the core. My wife would never approve for this…!" he clenched his fist, stifling sobs.
Casanova positioned his hand on the elder's shoulder and said, "We'll find a way to help your wife.That woman, did she tell you her name?" he asked.
The elder nodded enthusiastically, a few droplets of sweat dripping from his forehead.
"I think—I thhing it was…" his speech suddenly became slurred, to the point where he was jumbling through every word.
"F-Forgive me… I think—I think I need s-some booze… It's a long time ever sinshe I drunk somethjing. Cone to shink of it, when was the lastf thime?" he wiped his sweaty face with his sleeve.
'This isn't normal.'
As Casanova removed his hand from the elder's shoulder, his palm left a deep imprint on him, as if the man was made of play-dough.
The Nephilim jumped away from the elder, landing in front of the door, gaining a great amount of distance.
He activated Dusk Catcher and gained its uncanny response.
Dusk Catcher marked him as safe before marking him as a dangerous being in need of extermination, changing between the two options like a broken compass!