<strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">Cobb Theater Roof</span></strong><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">Cape</span></strong><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> Merrin</span></strong><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">November 10, 2010</span></strong><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span></strong><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">“You don’t have to call the police,” came an unsteady voice from near the top of the fire escape. The figure (http://dev.hollywire.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/05/bale-1.jpg) that emerged was emaciated, gaunt and the face was smeared with the remnants of gore; it looked like the rat-man had wiped at his face vigorously, but not enough to scrub away the viscera of the dog’s corpse. When the figure hauled itself fully up onto the roof, it sat down on the ledge of the rooftop, panting for a moment, and he said, “I’m Silas,” and added after breathing a bit harder, “just Silas.” His narrow ribcage rose and fell with his panting breath for several more moments before he could continue, “Do you know what that book is? How to read it? I could help you if you don’t know. The spells . . . they come more easily if you wait until between the half hour before and the half hour after midnight. Have you begun reading it backward yet? Don’t do that—that’s dangerous, I mean, unless you’re really gifted.”</span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">Suddenly, Silas rose and turned, looked toward the east, as if he could hear a sound that entirely displeased him. He stood, for the first time revealing the nudity of his human form to Reggy, and without any sort of shame at all and a great deal more confidence in his voice, he said, “I have to go—there are people who need my help right now. Be careful with the book. I’ll be back around if you want to talk.” With that the impossibly thin man clattered back down the water-slick fire escape, ducked between some dumpsters and was soon no longer a man, but a rather thin, long-tailed rat that scampered off in the direction of Simon’s Bull. His fur was coated with rain water.</span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">Interior of Simon’s Bull, main barroom</span></strong><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">Cape</span></strong><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> Merrin</span></strong><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">November 10, 2010</span></strong><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span></strong><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">The gunshots that rang out in the barroom were deafening. The slugs mostly landed on either side of the large wolf creature that bellowed in the center of the room. Splinters from the floorboards and dust from the plaster of the walls splattered across Micheal, Leof, and Diane, though luckily none of them were hit with the salted bullets of JJ’s firearm. In the dark it was difficult to tell, but Sam became keenly aware of the smell of blood streaming off the creature in the center of the room—it must have been shot once.</span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">Micheal found himself beneath the wolf, stabbing upward after his quick tuck and roll away from the bullets aimed toward the large wolf. The small blade of the Swiss Army knife, however, did not find purchase in the hide of the creature, which turned its attention to JJ momentarily, but it made a snuffing noise from his muzzle when it saw that the shorter man was approaching JJ. It turned back to face Micheal. It growled again in rage, furious; Micheal can sense its rage has more to do with his own refusal to oppose the wolf in a more formidable shape than it has to do with the festering bullet wound in its shoulder. </span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">The shorter man approached JJ, his face a contortion of bestial features—overly hairy eyebrows that protrude from his forehead, fang-like teeth, but the red has drained from his eyes. “Call yourself a hunter, boy?” the man taunted before Al’s bat from the top of the bar swung downward, nearly onto him. Interrupting his stride, the man paused and yelled toward the back hallway, while looking up at Sam and Al perched on the bar “Gregor, will you do something about these meddlesome cunts, please?” Though no response was forthcoming from the hallway, something did rapidly change. The trinkets and necklaces that laced around JJ’s neck began to crumble as he reloaded his pistol. By the time he has the chamber locked and loaded, the remains are in a pile at the floor, simple dust. The roaches moved toward him, and up over his legs for the first time. Chuckling to himself, the short man said, more to himself than anyone else, “That’s not who I meant, but fair enough.” Just then his attention is deflected from JJ by the feeling of a pool cue connecting with the back of his skull. </span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">His reaction is staid, slow, and the shorter man turned to Leof, circling around and leaving his back bare to Sam, Al, and JJ. “Shouldn’t you be protecting your girlfriend?” the shorter man asked, a swipe of his clawed hands swinging toward Leof. </span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">Interior of Simon’s Bull, back hallway</span></strong><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">Cape</span></strong><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> Merrin</span></strong><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">November 10, 2010</span></strong><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span></strong><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">Detective Michaels’ observations of the scene were interrupted by the sound of chanting coming from just behind her in the men’s bathroom. The voice, which seemed to have cried, “<em>Imitatores, servum pecus</em></span>!” over and over again silenced itself moments before JJ’s trinkets fell away to dust in the main barroom. It was a moment, and then the voice renewed itself. The sound was odd; the voice was cultured and liquid sounding, rich. The language was . . . Latin? The was an odd sort of light emanating from the crack beneath the door—possibly candlelight judging from the way the light seemed to move.<br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">Exterior of Simon’s Bull, front entryway</span></strong><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">Cape</span></strong><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> Merrin</span></strong><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">November 10, 2010</span></strong><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span></strong><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">[Shihong, I’m not intentionally ignoring Delilah’s question, but Otis has run back to his truck, and I’m not sure to whom you were speaking when you asked about a back door. I suppose Arathel might know—Det. Michaels found one, so I suppose Delilah could make an attempt to follow the detective.]</span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">The uniformed officers who had shown up on scene as backup for Michaels were only just getting out of their cars when the detective headed around to the alley. They looked a bit white-faced and shocked in the presence of the flaming door. One of them radioed in for a fire truck while a couple of others moved toward Arathel, Abigail, and Delilah, trying to collect statements. </span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;">In the downpour next to his truck Otis fiddled with the shotgun shells, loading two into the gun and pocketing another 8 shells, hoping to Christ he didn’t need more than that. He wasn’t happy when he got closer to the bar front again and saw more police. He wasn’t going to be able to go in the front, not with the shotgun he had in his hands, and that howl was an indication that he certainly did <em>not </em>want to go inside without it. He crouched down at the edge of the parking lot serving Simon’s Bull and felt the rain soak his skin, watching for an opportunity to sneak around to the bar’s rear entrance.</span>