Moonlight sonata

Lutheran—

Ah, the winter flakes, how they dance upon the cityscape, melting at a touch but leaving their glimmering gift behind. Strange how different the scenery can look, taste and smell when you aren’t being dragged into the cold walls of Ironstone. No snow then—just the promise of a quiet winter, they said. Nothing but rain to paint the skies.

Now?

Now, it’s nature’s own playground.

Aye, despite what the soft folk say, I’ve always fancied snow. Makes for the perfect canvas to paint red. Such stark contrasts—they highlight every flaw and every perfection in the artistry.

“Heh-heh-he.”

That detective’s face—oh, how sublime to watch her face twist in horror. Luckily, the police arrived when they did. Any sooner and the leech would have given me a proper dance in the streets.

But I suppose it is time to catch the uptown train and let things settle like fresh snow. It’s never about victory or defeat—it’s about choosing your battles with care. And right now, I’m choosing what’s within my grasp. Could I take her? Aye, things wouldn’t mirror our last encounter. That open ballroom was my folly, giving her ample chances to toss me about like a child’s plaything. I won’t be making such a mistake twice.

“This is a Hallow-bound Express train. The next stop is Jester’s Circle. Stand clear of the closing doors, please.”

Fortune smiles—“Nrghhh!”

My jaw clenched tight as I found my own blade buried in my side. Screams erupted across the platform as the doors sealed shut. My elbow struck backward for space, only to find the bloody leech standing there, patient as death.

“I missed my train because of you!”

“Catch the next one,” she snapped.

Fascinating to find my weapon lodged in my own flesh. It hurt, but not enough to distract from the sight of her shirt being decorated in a meticulous pool of blood. Seems our dear detective didn’t fancy being arrested in silence.

“Now, now, come now. And here I thought you were one of the good ones. Gone and killed some cops? They’ll not be kind to you, love.”

I couldn’t help but smile. She’d crossed that precious line of hers. Cop killer, they’ll brand her—not before stringing her up proper and driving a stake through that heart of hers.

Prying my blade free brought little joy. IronStone had made me faster, stronger, aye. But my gift for spotting lurking eyes in shadows had dulled somewhat. Though if truth be told, she’d grown better at this game of silence and stealth as well. Even now, I couldn’t catch her scent—should’ve noticed the blood, at least. My error. It won’t happen twice.

“Well then, come on. We’ve got 8 minutes until the next train, and you’ve already gone and frightened the locals. Just you and me now.”

Those crimson eyes of hers—sharp and menacing like winter’s bite. Sent a proper shiver down my spine and into my knickers. Oh, this is going to be such a delicious sport.

She struck first this time. I admired her spirit, but I was faster. Stronger too. Her fists and kicks might as well have been snowflakes. I blocked and swayed like a dancer, then returned the favor with enough force to crack her bones. The sound—like twigs snapping underfoot.

The leech recovered quicker than in our last tango. Much quicker. Good. That meant I needn’t hold back this time.

Drawing from my waist, I flashed a smile across my silver companions—Shirley for slicing, Samantha for stabbing. Such lovely girls they are.

The leech grew cautious at the sight of both blades. Good—shiver at the thought that this won’t be the simple dance you imagined. Makes everything so much more entertaining. Her fury made her predictable, emotions turning her strikes wild and readable. Each opening was a gift, letting me carve such precise patterns before taking her arm at the elbow. Her thigh next, Samantha plunged deep while Shirley carved her signature onto the leech’s gut. She bled like a pour from summer wine, and oh, how the blades sang as they found their marks again and again.

Admiring my work left me half-pleased. That pretty face of hers, twisted in a fury—stirred something primal in me.Such a shame, thinking the open ground would prove more challenging.

“And would you look at that? Three solid minutes to spare. Perhaps I’ll circle about and catch a transfer to pay the little girl a visit next. Her scent won’t be hard to find. But her screams—oh, how they might be—!”

Before I could blink, the leech had tucked its insides back where they belonged, standing there wiping its face clean like fresh, untouched snow. Not a mark in sight.

I’d seen quick healing before, but this? This was something else.

“Didn’t I tell you already? I am going to kill you.”

Her words carried winter’s chill. More serious than any threat I’d heard in all my years.

“Ohh, what’s this? You must care for the girl to be this fierce. Don’t fret, I’ll make it quick, just like her mother—”

The world blurred. She reopened my earlier wound with her bare hand, unleashing all hell before I could draw a single breath. Then those fangs found me, and I felt life’s warmth draining away. Shirley and Samantha, my faithful girls, meant nothing now as we tumbled onto the tracks, white lights growing in the darkness.

The leech stood over me, those crimson gems going wide as she wiped my taste from her lips.“You, your—”

“That’s right, sweetie! Time to really have some fun!”

***

Sirius sprinted through the streets, her boots sliding on the icy ground as she weaved between obstacles. A bone-chilling howl froze her in her tracks. There, perched on the building’s ledge, loomed a beast that could stand eight feet tall—Lutheran’s new form. Its black fur was matted and coarse, steam billowing from its nostrils in the frigid air as metal-piercing fangs gleamed in the moonlight. The creature’s claws dug into brick like it was clay, anchoring its towering frame as it prepared to pounce.

The scent of blood thickened the surrounding air. Sirius felt their roles reverse—she was no longer the hunter. The beast staggered before launching itself from its perch, massive form hurtling down to the city streets below. Each thunderous footfall that followed promised death.

Like a snake shedding its skin—Sirius had witnessed a werewolf transformation once before, but nothing like this. When she’d first tasted Lutheran’s blood, she knew he was different. His uncanny resilience to her attacks, shrugging off wounds that would have been fatal to any normal human, now made perfect sense. The wound that had led her to catch him in their first encounter had healed, but the scar remained—a mark that seemed to pulse with ancient malice. Lutheran wasn’t just a serial killer anymore; his transformation spoke of something primal, something that felt older than the forests themselves. The way his massive form moved spoke of savagery beyond mere beast or man—as if he’d inherited the very essence of the hunt itself.

Sirius melted into the shadows of the streets and alleys, her anger no longer blind but honed to a razor’s edge as sharp as her fangs. She and Lutheran would end their dance tonight.

Their last confrontation erupted in a symphony of violence. Their back-and-forth became a blur of fangs and claws, each blow meant to end the other. Sirius’s axe bit deep into muscle that seemed harder than steel, while Lutheran’s attacks threatened to drain her extraordinary healing ability dry. Every slash and counter-slash painted the snow-covered streets in crimson, turning pristine white slush into a grisly canvas of their battle. This was Lutheran now—not the man she had hunted before, but something far more ferocious, their deadly tango reaching its crescendo beneath the winter moon.

***

Standing with a glass of the finest rum, Mayor Gregory Hunt watched his television. The drama series that had him hooked from start to finish had ended on a cliffhanger, leaving him to sigh in disgruntled anticipation for the following season. As he poured himself another glass, he took a moment’s break to stare out the window of the illuminated city in the dark. His apartment was situated quite high with a lavish view. From those very same shadows, the study part of his living room held a pair of curious eyes lingering from its depths. The head of a large wolf-like creature rolled. Its blood seeped into the floorboards of his Persian rug.

With a heavy sigh, the man glanced back at the dark depths that traced along the corners of his office space. It sat just out of reach of the dim light of the TV.

Reaching the table, Mayor Hunt took a top, pouring his favorite drink into a glass. The honey amber-colored liquor tickled his nose as he took a sniff. He took one gulp to finish it as he placed it back down.

The pair of crimson eyes continued to stare back at him from the dark corner.

“Was it quick?” he asked, the words hanging in the air like cigarette smoke.

“...” The silence stretched thick and viscous before a voice from the shadow answered with a single, weighted “No.”

“I see.” The mayor’s fingers traced the rim of his glass, the honey-amber liquid catching the dim light. Each movement calculated, each word measured.

“Will mine be?”

“…No.”

“I see,” the mayor said with an exasperated sigh. He poured himself another drink before pouring a second to share. “No, huh? I thought so. It doesn’t hurt to try.”

He paused for a moment to take a sip. The honey amber-colored liquor tickled his nose—hints of oak, summer wheat. This time, savoring every drop that crossed his lips from the tip of his tongue to the back of his throat. Every part experiences a novel sensation.

“They will come after you. I am their favorite puppet, after all. I mean, I have been in office for over three decades.”

“…” not even a peep brokered from the one standing in the shadows.

“You don’t care, I see. If I am being honest, Crane will make a fine mayor. But I fear he doesn’t understand what he is really dealing with, and neither do you. No one is a saint in this city. Look at Crane. Proposes an anti-corruption campaign despite being part of the system that put him where he is. Even slept with that whore and fathers a child that does not know he exists.”

“And what makes you so much better?”

“Ahh, so you are capable of conversation,” the mayor scoffed, finishing what little remained of his glass. “Hm, and what makes me so much better? ‘Best’ is probably the only way to put it. I at least try to do something. If anyone of us starves, we will all become monsters no different from the next. We can sit here and point fingers, but the truth is, I was the one keeping the peace.”

“…” The heavy crimson glare grew only sharper. It left the mayor slowly shuffling to the cabinet drawer, pulling the drawer open for his hands to find a fancy decorative pistol he had won at an auction.

“Well, if you change your mind, the pricey stuff is on the top shelf. I wish you the best of luck. Truly. It can be so daunting trying to trust yourself that you are making the right decisions. Doubting whether yourself is who you are to the core. But it is, isn’t it?”

The mayor eased himself back, hand reaching…

The room flashed with light. Two more shots erupted, their sharp reports muted against the TV’s soft drone. Just out of view, tiny flakes of snow danced against the night sky beyond the large living room window—a delicate counterpoint to the violence that had just unfolded. Oh, how beautiful the sight of snow falling can be.