I didn't agree with Doyle.

  Rushing towards the unknown and following something in the dead of the night was just too reckless. But before I could argue against it St. Clair already followed his lead. I relented and obeyed, both men outranked me and the fact that I was already invested with the case made it hard to say no and stay. So, I approached one of the villagers living at the edge of the village to be our guide. After gearing up, we started our journey through the darkness.

  The fog crawled over the hectare long plantations like a succubus to its victim.

  The moon hid behind the clouds and the skies was a dark blank slate- not a single star in the horizon lit our way. An ominous start. Only the beams of light from our flashlight sliced the thick darkness in our path. I shivered and zipped the collar of my jacket close. The trek to get to the edge of the forest was long and cold. Cold as morgue as they say. But it was tolerable.

  We quickly crossed four kilometers of tomato plantation and began to see a clearer view of the forest and the near perfect cone of mount Kadong. So far, the trek was not as taxing even in the cold night.

  The two agents walked side by side and I took the rear. They were talking to themselves, whispering about previous interactions with the strange. On what I can hear, it was about their previous assignments that might shed a bit of light in the mystery we were getting ourselves mired in. I honestly wanted to join in, take the reins and provide my insights. I could help them. I knew I could but I didn't.

  It wasn't the time to prove that I could do more. I sighed. When will that be? When do I know that it's time. And am I even capable of doing the things I think I could do?

  The tip of the answer for my first question was answered when we were walking along a dirt path and our guide paused.

  "What's wrong?" St. Clair said in one of the Sumatran dialects. It didn't surprise me, a S.P.E.A.R. cooperative should know at least three language and a number of foreign dialects. His fluency got my attention. He spoke like a native speaker.

  "Danger, sir!" The man led us away from the trail, scrambling over a ditch and squatting to hide on a grassy area a few yards from the path.

  Doyle pulled him up when he noticed that there was actually nothing around us. "You okay?"

  "I well not go further... I'm sorry," whispered our guide. His pale face looked like the Sheridan ghost himself. He looked at St. Clair with hands clasped together almost pleading.

  "But we need your help," St. Clair said. He dropped his duffle bag down on the knee high grass around us. "We're unfamiliar with the place."

  "No...no...no more. Please."

  "Can you at least draw a map for us?" St. Clair said, opening the bag and taking a pen and paper from it. He passed it to our guide's trembling hands.

  "I am sorry sir, but death awaits us in the forest. Here, sir take this map." He handed the rough sketch of the area on a piece of paper.

  Doyle took and examined it carefully.

  "Then we'll continue without you. Stay on the track and please tell your friends that if we don't return they should contact S.P.E.A.R," St. Clair said. The guide thanked all of us and went back the trail, half sprinting.

  "What wus that all about?" Doyle said. "What scared the poor guy?" He looked at me.

  "The village people believed that the forest and Mount Kadong was once the abode of the demon Tikus Seitan and his sons and daughters." Doyle only nodded at me.

  "A demon?" St. Clair said.

  I sighed. "And like most of its kind, Tikus Seitan dined on human flesh and drank blood."

  Doyle shook his head. "So, some folk superstition scared our guide?"

  I didn't told them that the enslaving of humanity and the ruler-ship of the whole world came next to the demon's priorities. And the fact that it sounded like folk nonsense and cringe-worthy made it a big no-no. I didn't want them to say I believed any of the stuff.

  "Some elders said that he was once worship in this region by cults" I said. "Giving offerings to appease his hunger. They called him the Lord of Pestilence and Rot."

  "And?" St. Clair said.

  "Some of the village elder's description of the demon varied," I continued. "Some said, it was a dog while others said, it was a wild boar. I even came across a tobacco dealer that lived across the mountain that said, it was a giant rat with a human body." Both man made no comment about the story.

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  "Agent Carnacki if I may asked, how many cases have ya got under your belt?" Doyle said as he went on to lead our way.

  "If you count the Sheridan Haunting well this would be the fourth, why? What did I do?"

  I only heard his chuckle as he continued on the path.

  "Don't mind him miss Carnacki. He's just fascinated by the efforts you made," St. Clair said. "That and the fact that he doesn't like research work and think it needs superhuman strength to do it."

  "Really?"

  St. Clair gave me a pat on the shoulder. "It's too alien for him. He likes the mystery part of our job too much."

  "Yeah, well what was I supposed to do, just wait for you and do nothing for four days?"

  After half an hour of searching, Doyle found partial tracks and disturbed vegetation at the edge of the forest. The forest itself consisted mainly of giant tropical trees with vines and shin high vegetation. The shrubbery was thick in some places. And from the looks of it, it was an ancient forest. We followed the tracks as it wound around the place in circles. I could sensed that Doyle was getting agitated after half an hour of trekking.

  I stopped in front of an acacia tree. "Whats wrong, sir?"

  "The tracks-" He pointed at the vegetation. The grass was partially uprooted and the rocks freshly disturbed. I couldn't see if there was a pattern to it. But he saw something and it didn't look well, judging from the look on his face.

  I leaned closer on the grass. "Why? did you lost it?"

  My comment made him more annoyed. "Um...Nah, it's actually the opposite."

  Agent St. Clair threw a crumpled dollar bill and Doyle caught it. "I guess you're right," St Clair said.

  "Just an educated guess... brother," Agent Doyle said with a smug face. He pocketed the money.

  "What's that all about?" I asked.

  "Earlier, after reading your notes we argued about the number of our mysterious entity," Agent St. Clair said.

  I raised a brow. "And...?"

  "And base on your notes and our recent findings-" Doyle pointed at the disturbed vegetation. "I proved correct. We're dealing with a pack." He emphasized the last word.

  Shit. A mixture of gladness and horror filled me. Glad that my notes and my suspicions were right and that it helped, but a pack of blood hungry ab-human or possibly a group of unknown cryptids?

  We were ill-equipped and unprepared. And from Doyle's further explanation, severely outnumbered.

  "We have to warn the villagers," I said, my voice wavering a bit.

  Doyle must have realized the look on my face when he said, "Don't do anything stupid rookie." He opened his duffle bag and rummaged for something. "We still need identification and visual confirmation so don't go anywhere."

  "What?" I croaked. "We should warn the village. If your right we shouldn't waste time."

  "We follow the tracks first-" He pointed at the vegetation with his flashlight. "and see what this is all about. We have to identify it first."

  I nodded. He was right. It was simply protocol. We needed to have visual confirmation first before we can even begin to evacuate the people of the village. But before we made the next move, we decided to stop and rest. Spread ten feet away from each other we prepared ourselves before continuing the journey.

  "If I may asked, what kind of agent classification do you belong miss Carnacki?" St. Clair said, moving like an automaton as he checked all his weapon and gear.

  "Dunstan, like you. Why?"

  "Ah told ya' Theo, I guess ya' owe me another hundred," Doyle said. "He actually said you were a Rowan class like yar's truly." He covered his mouth with his palm and shook his head."Oopsy shouldn't' have said that."

  So a Rowan class, interesting. Why make it a secret though? It's probably important or dangerous. I bit my lip at the thought that I wasn't even authorized to know that specific info.

  I walked towards him. "You really thought I was a Rowan? Didn't you read my file?" I placed my hands on my hip an said it as authoritative as I could. Please don't tell me you didn't. Please.

  "Why? Did ya read our files?" Doyle said, raising his brow.

  Theo paused, his attention on the bushes ten yards away. His eyes seemed to pierce through the thick greenery.

  I turned back to Doyle. "Yeah, that's supposed to be protocol, right?"

  "Ha, PROTOCOL. Ya sound like Director Trent." Doyle's eyes narrowed. "Are you Director Trent?" He laughed at his own joke.

  St. Clair's attention shifted from the bush to us before taking a box out from his duffle bag and opening it.

  "Your file didn't mention that your a Rowan class," I said to Doyle as I opened my own bag.

  "You better ask the boss himself cause I'm not tellin'," he said, a smile in the corner of his lips.

  I sighed. Who cares what class he belonged to. The only thing that mattered to me was that he was capable and that if shit do hit the proverbial fan... he could help me. When St. Clair remained silent. I busied myself on the things at hand. I didn't want to pry anymore so I didn't pursue questioning him.

  But as I rummaged through my things, Doyle made a satisfied noise. when he took a modified gun out his bag. A sawed off double barreled Winchester rifle? Was all this just game for him? He loaded and cocked it, checking if it was aligned. Then, I glanced at St. Clair's direction. He took out three bone rings similar to his earring. They were not the typical jewelry you'd find in a pawnshop. It was easy to guess what it was. His own issued relic. Finally, he took a rifle with a scope and shouldered it.

  "Hey, aren't ya' taking out your own relic?" Doyle said to me. "They did issue you a relic, right?"

  I shook my head. "No, not yet. I'm actually still a probationary agent." Well, actually more like a Junior Liaison but they didn't have to know that. "They only issued me this." I showed him the standard issue Glock I had. He shook his head in dismay.

  "Take this then." He threw a revolver at me. I almost didn't catch it. And when it landed on my palm I felt it. It was heavier than my Glock. I stared at it a bit longer than I wanted. It wasn't exactly what the agency issued to their rookie agents. I laid a finger over the engraving on its side- a Smith & Wesson Magnum .400. Basing from the little experience I had with guns it was not as effective as the Glock I had. But it would've been an insult if I gave it back. So, I tucked it on my back. I later found out how wrong I was.

  When I glanced at St. Clair's direction he was gone. I tried to point it out but I was interrupted by Doyle. He waved me down and smiled. "Just keep talkin'," he whispered. "We have company."