Gabriel
Everyone knew his name.
But no one knew where he was.
Isaac Crowe. The fallen hunter. A legend among vampire hunters. Some claimed he was dead. Others swore they had seen him just a few months ago. But no one could tell us where to find him.
And that made him dangerous.
"We're wasting our time," Raphael growled as we walked down a narrow alley in Whitechapel. The stench of rot, stagnant rainwater, and spilled blood hung thick in the air.
"Patience," Michael said calmly. "No one will give us the truth willingly. We'll have to pull it out of them."
I knew exactly what he meant.
We needed fear.
Raphael
The tavern was exactly what I expected—dark, smoky, and filled with men who had more sins on their conscience than the church could ever forgive.
"What'll it be?" the barkeep asked without even glancing up.
Gabriel pulled a coin from his pocket and placed it on the counter. "Information."
The man let out a dry laugh. "That's a pricey drink."
Michael leaned in closer. "Isaac Crowe."
Suddenly, the room fell silent.
Too silent.
The barkeep hesitated before lowering his voice. "That name brings trouble."
I grinned. "Then we already have something in common."
Michael
The information didn't come cheap.
But it came.
"They saw him three months ago, at an old hunting lodge outside the city," said a man in a tattered coat, his voice heavy with drink. "But if you're smart, you'll leave him alone."
"Why?" Gabriel asked, his tone calm but piercing.
The man shook his head like he'd seen a ghost. "Because he doesn't want to be found. And because the ones who try… tend to disappear."
Raphael spat on the floor. "Sounds like an invitation to me."
Gabriel and I exchanged a long glance.
We had our first lead.