"And we… we're just the ones who clean up the garbage they choose to ignore."
She smiled faintly, almost hopelessly.
"Monsters wear suits here, and that's probably a bad thing, I don't even know anymore."
She turned toward her door, but paused before stepping inside and added:
"Good night, Ethan. And… thank you for helping me."
The door closed very softly behind her.
Ethan stood in the hallway for a few more seconds, staring at his sister's closed door. Then he walked into his own room, shut the door, and leaned his back against it.
After that, he walked over and slowly sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at his hands. The hands that had truly killed for the first time tonight.
"I liked it," — he thought.
Ethan remained silent. His sister's words weighed heavily on his chest. He looked at his hands, at the dried blood, at his trembling fingers, and realized just how messed up everything was.
Gina sighed heavily, leaning her shoulder against the door frame. She looked at herself in the mirror.
"Imagine if everyone found out that crap like bag-grabbers is crawling through the woods and cellars… No one would sleep at night. Everyone would be waiting to get devoured. People would start losing their minds."
"Some would run to the police, some to the vampires, begging for protection. And they'd just laugh and say, 'That's your problem, humans.' So it's better to keep quiet about things like that. Let them think the biggest danger is the vampires and their pacts. It's easier to control everyone that way."
She fell silent, staring at the floor. A bitter smile flashed across her face.
"We're the ones who clean up what the 'civilized' monsters prefer not to know about."
Gina closed the window in her room, glancing back out one last time before stepping toward the bed.
Ethan slowly undressed. He pulled off the sweat- and blood-soaked hoodie, tossing it onto a chair. Pants, sneakers, socks, everything flew into the corner. Only the silver amulet remained around his neck. Ethan touched it with his fingers. He didn't take it off.
Then he got into bed.
The sheets felt unexpectedly cold. He pulled the blanket up to his chin and stared at the ceiling.
But there was no peace, even in his dreams.
The wet footprints on the hallway floor still lingered before his eyes. Black, glistening slime oozing from under the floorboards. Webbed paws with long claws.
Sharp teeth gleaming in the gloom, double rows ready to sink into flesh. He saw it all over again: the bag-grabbers' hands gripping Gina's thighs, dragging her down into the black water. He heard her scream. He felt his own hands shaking as he pulled his sister up.
Ethan rolled sharply onto his side, burying his face in the pillow. His heart was still pounding. Even in his sleep, he could smell the rot and burnt flesh from the incinerated cabin.
He didn't know how much time had passed... At times it felt like he was still in that cabin, standing ankle-deep in icy sludge while wet, cold hands reached for him out of the darkness.
Yet, he wasn't fully asleep.
His body demanded rest, but his mind… his mind kept looping the exact same image over and over again.
Eventually, he drifted off.
In the morning, they were woken up by the homely smell of bacon and eggs and freshly brewed coffee.
Ethan didn't open his eyes right away. First, he caught that scent, cozy, comforting, so ordinary for their kitchen. For a brief second, it felt like last night had never happened: no burning cabin, no wet bag-grabber hands, not even the blood on the floor.
His body immediately brought him back to reality; his muscles ached, and his shoulder and side throbbed with a dull pain from yesterday's wounds.
He sat up in bed, rubbing his face. It was already light outside, a grayish-blue morning sky. Downstairs in the kitchen, he could hear the faint clinking of dishes and footsteps.
Judging by the sound, Gina was awake too; a muffled groan and the rustle of a blanket came from her room.
Ethan got up, threw on his hoodie, and went downstairs.
David was already managing things in the kitchen. Their father was bandaged up, his shoulder and thigh neatly wrapped in gauze, but he moved quite briskly as he flipped the eggs in the pan and poured coffee into three mugs.
Traces of exhaustion and yesterday's blood were still visible on his face.
"Rise and shine, hunters," — he said without turning around when he heard the footsteps.
"Eat your breakfast and pack up. We're leaving for Riverdale in a few minutes. It's a two-hour drive."
Ethan froze on the kitchen threshold. Gina, who had followed him down, stopped too.
"Riverdale?" — she asked, rubbing her sleepy face.
"But that's close, we're in Logan right now, it's really close!"
David nodded, setting the plates on the table. The eggs hissed, spreading an appetizing aroma.
"An old friend called during the night. Asked for a favor. Something strange is going on there. Might be a new nest. It's right on our way, an hour's drive, no more."
He looked at his children.
"Sit down and eat. It's going to be a long day today."
Ethan sat down at the table in silence. He picked up his fork, but he had almost no appetite. His thoughts were still spinning around last night, the wet tracks, the screeching, the fire. Gina sat opposite him, wincing from the pain in her leg.
The smell of coffee and eggs filled the kitchen, but it felt like even that couldn't entirely mask the smell of smoke that still clung to their clothes.
David sat down with them but barely ate anything, only drinking his coffee while watching his kids.
"Gather your things," — he said.
"Weapons, amulets, salt, the journal. Everything you've got. We've already got business waiting for us in Riverdale."
This time Ethan managed to eat his portion anyway; thoughts were thoughts, but he needed to keep his strength up.
After breakfast, the siblings quickly packed their bags.