Eventually, the preparations were over, the militia was set, and the plan was made.

  The reason for joining was different for everyone involved. For some, it was revenge or a vague notion of justice. For others, the desire to feel secure against future attacks or to curry favor with Victor. And some joined just to be paid. Be it the pentacle coins that stored ghoul essence or Kenny's weapons.

  You would think a life-risking endeavor would take more persuasion, that it would be tough to coax a civilized person to bear arms and march on their neighbor with a promise of violence, but the negotiations weren't the main reason for the long wait.

  It was sobering to learn just how many people turned to the Temple for the mysterious Cleansing offered there and the sinking suspicion about those that required it but didn't.

  Unlike Claire, or at least her claims, I could not see the corruption in people, not even when comparing them after their visit to the temple.

  Sure, I noticed the diminished amount and intensity of the spiritual energy in the petitioners, but I couldn't see the difference in its nature. For something so nuanced, I'd have to come into closer contact and inspect them with greater care than viewing them from afar.

  Throwing the errant thought out of my mind, I concentrated on the coming operation.

  Douglas's base was besieged. There was no other way to describe it. Almost everyone was there.

  In our force's core were the fighters—those that came to exact violence if the need arose.

  Farther at their backs were the rest. More than a hundred people came to act as intimidation, to make the raiders subject themself peacefully to our hands. I suspected that some of them only came to enjoy the entertainment and wouldn't interfere no matter which way it went.

  But what would a peaceful resolution even look like? We didn't have courts or jails. Would we hold the assailants captive in some abandoned building and feed them ghoul essence to keep them alive? We weren't doing that for the innocents at the plaza. The only punishment they could realistically get was the death penalty, be it more violently immediate or by prolonged captivity that would deteriorate them to the same state as their victims in a matter of days.

  Needless to say, I was in neither group. Instead, I chose to watch the affair from a higher vantage point, unnoticed by the parties. Not that I didn't understand that this was a problem that had to be resolved, but I believed it would be worked out with or without my presence and unnecessary personal risk.

  The guards at the entrance quickly noticed the coming mob and took cover inside the building.

  Our procession stopped a stone's throw away. Literally, as the thrown projectiles proved it to be.

  I could see faces in the window openings, but no one tried to talk it out.

  "Douglas!" Victor's booming voice resounded with an unpleasant echo. "Come out!"

  After several more attempts to garner a reaction, he got what he wished for, to some extent.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  A figure stepped out of the entrance. A man.

  At first, I thought it was one of the hostages. The white robe showed him to be a part of the coven, maybe even the same one I saw being dragged away. But I couldn't be more wrong.

  The robe was dirtied with blood, not only from the initial attack but intentionally bloodied with artistic flair. Thin and thick lines filled the improvised canvas, connecting in intricate designs.

  The more I looked at the figure, the more alien it seemed. I noticed his hands coming lower than they should, almost touching his knees, the fingers ending in pointed claws.

  I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but there was something wrong with his face.

  The cherry on top was his energy intensity. It was more intense than anyone I'd seen so far.

  Well, perhaps not intense, but it was more directed. But the illusion of greater intensity was due to the fact that more of it was aimed in the same direction. It was more fully bound by a singular purpose. What that purpose was, or how that was accomplished, was anyone's guess, though I would wager it wasn't anything good.

  "I'm afraid Douglas is indisposed right now," The twisted man said in a cheerful tone that was somewhat garbled. "You can leave your message with me."

  "Michaelson," Victor acknowledged him. "I want to see him. Now. Go inside and make him disposed," Victor commanded, not noticing the strangeness.

  "That won't be possible," the man replied. If anything, Victor's command made him more cheerful. Notes of anticipation crept in.

  "And why is that?" Victor took the bait.

  "There was a change in management-"

  "New management being you?" Victor gruffly replied. "Well enough. Release the prisoners and stand the fuck down."

  "You see," The man continued as if uninterrupted, "we had a slight disagreement-" he paused for dramatic effect. "-on culinary grounds." Michaelson grinned, jaws coming apart further than humanly possible, making sure everyone saw the changes in his body. He was trying to cow his opponent by his mere appearance.

  I finally realized the oddity that was his face. His mouth and nose extended slightly further than expected, appearing more like an animal's snout than a human's mouth. Dark red smears were visible around his teeth, which were sharpened so much that there were gaps between them. Something told me it wasn't his blood.

  Unlike his followers, Victor took the man's appearance and insinuations in stride, only taking a few seconds to compose himself.

  "I won't repeat myself a third time," he stated. "Release the prisoners right this moment. We'll discuss the rest after this much is achieved."

  "You can have what's left of them," The man promised, stepping back into the building.

  A moment later, a round object was flung from the entrance. It impacted the ground and bounced toward the group. One of them had to stop it with their foot.

  It was a head. That much was clear. Though, whose head it was, was impossible to tell. The eyes, nose, and cheeks were missing, as were the scalp and its contents.

  The inhabitants of the building, visible in the windows, hooped and hollered like this was some grand joke they all enjoyed.

  Victor looked furious. He turned around to talk things through with his followers and the larger group that followed along.

  If anything, the garish display made everyone more hostile toward the cannibals. Before, it was still being determined if actual fighting would have to break out or who would participate in it other than the core participants. Now, almost everyone was rearing for a fight.

  I couldn't hear Victor's exact words, but from what I heard when he raised his voice, it was evident that they couldn't suffer the cannibals to live next to them when it was apparent that more attacks would follow.

  No one was safe as things stood. Retaliation was imminent.

  To Victor's credit, I'd note that he was the first one through the door. Heavy metal hammer in hands, he barged in, and the rest followed him one after the other.

  Shouts and sounds of combat resounded from within, and a lot more cussing than I expected to hear from a distance.

  All of the combat group was swallowed by the building, and for some time, I could almost follow the battle as the source of the clamor moved inside through the inner rooms and corridors.

  Then when the combat was concentrated on the third floor in the upper part of the structure, the defenders started jumping through the windows facing the remaining force in an unexpected turn of events.

  There were several windows all around, but they chose to exit from the ones that brought them face-to-face with the rest of the militia.

  I noted that other than the leader, there weren't other strongly expressed changes in the other raiders, nothing that popped out, at least.

  They were around twenty people strong, bounding on more than a hundred. But they didn't let the numbers disadvantage stop them. Instead, in a fit of berserker's rage and mad battle cries, they went through the oppositions like a hot knife through butter.

  Our support forces broke apart almost immediately, dispersing in fright. The attack was not less savage than it had been in the plaza. On the contrary, it was even more concentrated than before.

  In their short time, they tried to kidnap more people, but Victor's group was fast on their trail, running in a dead sprint back from the same building the savages had just left.

  With a few parting slashes and blows, the cannibals disengaged and retreated further into the city.