The Laws of Werewolf Hunting

Chapter 40 The Family of Believers
"Clara also wants to go home. It is a beautiful white house with yellow flowers on the windowsill. Clara can draw on the walls, but her mother never praises Clara. Clara is obviously better than her brother. better."

Clara babbled in the cage, but Clayton ignored her.

Because he was holding the birdcage in his mouth, rolled up his sleeves, and climbed up the uneven wall with the strength of both hands.

If it weren't for the remote location he chose, this kind of behavior would definitely be stopped.

It's daytime now, and the werewolf's ability to transform is limited, but it is still possible to make the nails sharper and stronger. Climbing walls is more convenient than pure human fingers.

After some effort, Clayton got to the roof.

He was almost ten feet above the ground, and he could have a panoramic view of everything on the Dove Square.

But at this altitude, the sun's rays are also more intense.

Clayton would not give up lightly. Although the Salvation Army had already guarded here, he couldn't trust these weak-willed and eccentric guys.

He followed the route identified by Clara on the connected roof, and soon found a dilapidated house at the corner of the dead end behind the square. The windows probably had three floors, and the shape fit Clara's description of his own house. .

White is white enough, at least as white as bird droppings.

But the walls are pitted, which may be related to the increased acidity of rainwater that absorbs industrial waste.

A row of flower pots, perhaps seven, lined the edge of the second-floor projecting balcony.

Probably because they were broken in half, leaving only a few fragments, the base and the soil between the railings, and some of the pots had the bases covered by the soil.

There was a huge garbage dump next to the house, but luckily the smell wasn't too bad as the weather turned colder.

"Is that Clara's house?"

Because no one would see it from a high place, Clayton simply lifted the gauze from the birdcage to let Clara see more clearly.

Clara opened her mouth wide and her eyes seemed dead.

She hadn't been so desperate when Creighton had beheaded her.

Clayton comforted her: "It has been many years, and if no one takes care of it, the house will become like this."

"Clara doesn't want to go home anymore, Clayton will take Clara back to her own home."

"Then you can stay on the roof, and I will go in by myself."

"Then Clara should stay with Clayton."

Clayton couldn't understand her thoughts. He ran between the slopes of the roof with the birdcage, came to the top of Clara's house, jumped easily, fell into the balcony, and opened the door to enter.

The dust here is comparable to that of Mani's old house.

Clayton suddenly thought of a question.

Clara said that she has a mother, but she is a spider, and the spider's mother should also be a spider.

As for the title of "Spider Priest". He is not sure about this idea, because the IQ of the bugger should not be enough to get this title.

Who would let Clara preach to him?
"What does Clara's mother look like?" He looked at the bedroom behind the balcony. There were very few personal items that could indicate the identity of the owner.

Open the closet, there are men's and women's clothes in different sizes.

This is not like a personal bedroom, but rather a warehouse for clothes.

"Clara's mother was the most—beautiful woman for Sasha."

Clara said proudly in the cage.

"Is she a spider too?"

Hearing Clayton ask this question, Clara looked like she was looking at a monster: "Does Clayton think spiders are beautiful?"

Clayton froze, he felt that the person in the world who couldn't use common sense to blame him was Clara.

"If you only look at your face, I think you're actually okay."

"not good at all!"

Clayton couldn't figure out what the fool was thinking, so he decided not to talk about this kind of topic with Clara, but to concentrate on exploring the house.

Clara's house is very strange.

Some of it is not designed for families, and some prison-like modifications have been made.

There are many bedrooms here, but there are windows and numbers on every door.

Clayton walked into one of them at random and found that it was very small, with a bed occupying one-third of the space.There were some crude handmade toys on the floor, and small-sized clothes on the bed.

He tried closing the door inside, but found it impossible to lock it from the inside.

The same is true next door, there are fairy tale books, some crayons and pictures.

During this process, he didn't talk to Clara, but Clara quickly changed her mind and got back together with him again.

The indoors are no better than the outdoors. Although there are many places where there is mold, the shape has not changed.

The warm feeling was even conveyed to Clara's heart just by looking at her.

This is her home, and Clayton is her guest.Just thinking about it gave Clara a thrill.

She is an adult too!

She cried out in excitement as Clayton made his way down the corridor.

"This one is Andrew's room, he's the fastest runner, but draws badly. This is Goshek's room, he likes to dance, and this is Luna's room. Clayton don't go so fast, It's too late for Clara to introduce!"

Contrary to Clara's feelings, Clayton is getting more and more uncomfortable in this place.

With the exception of the very first room, all the other bedrooms seem to be intended for children, but not too much.

Everything is in order.

The house was so tidy that he couldn't find any child's supplies outside the bedroom.

Even if there are rules for tidying up, there should be some omissions here, such as a doll left under the table and chairs, a ribbon and so on.

But none of that, as if they could only live in their own bedroom.

Only in those rooms are there any traces of their humanity.

Clayton seems to have seen a closed prison, under the depression, but the seeds of innocence are thriving.

He entered another room and saw blood-stained scratches on the wooden floor. The distance between the scratches was very small, and the number of scratches was five.

This suddenly caught his attention.

Clayton crouched, studying the marks around the ground.

There are scratches not only on the ground, but also on the wall on the right side near the door.

"This is Horn's room. He can sing very well." Clara introduced him.

"Is there a child in every room?"

"Yes."

"Where did they all go?"

Clara's face was still innocent, but Clayton couldn't look at her like he used to.

"Klara didn't know, they disappeared after the dedication."

"Devotion? Is that painful?"

Clayton knelt down on one knee and picked up a small piece of broken nail from the bottom of the bed, the blood on it had turned black.

He looked at it carefully, and the voice of inquiry was cruel.

Clara didn't notice this change: "Well, it hurts to consecrate, but it's my mother's request. If you don't consecrate, you won't be able to enter the kingdom of heaven. Then, you won't be able to be together after death."

Clayton stuffed his nails into his pockets and stood up.

"I want to see Clara's room."

"Clara's room is 211."

Clayton returned to the corridor and descended the stairs, counting all the way to Clara's room.

He stopped at the door and thought for a few seconds before turning the handle and pushing the door open.

Just like other rooms, the layout inside is not surprising. The quilt on the bed is folded well, but there are some graffiti on the wall, showing that the children here have an unusual spirit.

Walking a few steps further inside, Clayton saw a small white dress lying on the ground, matching the figure of a seven or eight-year-old child.It seemed to have fallen from the bed, and it was already covered with dust, with the silhouette of a pair of scattered leather shoes faintly visible underneath.

Clara cheered in the cage: "It's still there! Clayton, Clara's skirt is still there! Can you take it back?"

She didn't seem to notice that she was no longer able to wear a dress, nor did it occur to her that Clayton had no obligation to take her back to his home.

Clayton didn't answer, he put his hand to his forehead and felt another severe headache.

Even though it was still daytime, he could feel the blood of the werewolf rushing faster in his veins. The intensity was only comparable to that of the full moon night when he awakened.

Something in the mind growled furiously.

His tawny eyes quivered in their sockets, the whites of which were bloodshot.

The palm of the hand was exerted unconsciously, the wolf hair protruded from the back of the hand, and the sterling silver birdcage in the left hand felt a burning sensation.

Reflexively, Clayton threw the birdcage onto the bed, then took out a special medicine wrapped in paper from his pocket and took a pill.

As the pill was swallowed down the throat, the boiling blood eased slightly.

Clayton returned to normal, glanced at the burning marks on his left hand that were fading at a speed visible to the naked eye, and suddenly had the idea of ​​releasing Clara from the sterling silver birdcage, an idea that would never have come up before .

But now is not the time, he knows very well.

"What is Clayton thinking?"

Not surprisingly, Clara was angry again, as anyone would be if thrown around in a cage.

Clayton picked up the birdcage and said seriously: "Clayton is thinking, Clara is a good boy, and Clara's mother should learn from Clara."

Clara smiled again.

The lieutenant lifted the cage still to his left hand, thinking that if Clara's mother was still alive, he would cut off her head too.

I don't know if the darkborn who are not possessed by demons are still immortal.

(End of this chapter)