The Laws of Werewolf Hunting

Chapter 52 The Truth
Sylvia slumped on the ground, panting in despair.

anyone but mary
"It's me, Mary."

Marie Aita thought that Sylvia was suffering from the same problem as herself, so she stretched out her hands, lowered her body slightly, and walked towards Sylvia as if calling a small animal.

Sylvia raised her right hand to cover her face, and moved her legs back against the ground.

"Please, Mary, go back, don't come to us for a while." It seems that because of her emotions, her voice has also become different, more like another person than before.

As if she hadn't heard of it, Mary reached out to Sylvia's bandaged face: "What's wrong with your face?"

Sylvia pushed her hand away subconsciously: "Nothing!"

"You can trust me."

Mary put her hand on Sylvia's shoulder and took her hand with the other, trying to lift her up from the dirt.

The female sheriff felt sad. If everything was still the same as when they were young, they could talk about everything.

She and the girls at the club who had fallen into the mud used to ride a horse together and swap dresses, but no one talked about it anymore.

Under the palm of her hand, she felt the dancer's body trembling, and after her own temperature passed through, the symptoms eased.

Sylvia raised her head, her eyes were full of pleading, and she asked a question that Mary hadn't thought about:

"Will you forget us, Mary?"

"No, even if I can't recognize others, I will always remember you."

Mary gently lifted her up.

Mary had spent a week in extreme grief since her father's death before the unrecognizable disorder first appeared.

Mary could no longer remember other people's faces, and lost the ability to "imagining specific shapes and even colors".

But the amazing thing is that she still remembers her former relatives and friends, her memory is gray, only about these people, their smiles are as fresh as if they just happened in the memory.

"Look, even if you wear a cloak to cover your face, I still remember you as Sylvia."

"But what if I change?"

"I remember you too." Mary answered firmly.

Years of knight training made her lose the delicacy of a woman, but her courage and will to fight are better than men.

"Sylvia, now please tell me what happened in the club and why you guys are avoiding me recently? No matter what happens, I will help you."

Her decisiveness is contagious.

The dancer lowered her head and mustered up the courage to speak the unspeakable truth:

"Everyone... has become different from before. Since a month ago, our bodies have undergone mutations, and some... are not quite human."

She took off her hood, revealing her curly brown hair.

Just looking at this long curly hair, even if she covered her face, she must be considered a beauty.

Sylvia pulled off the bandage, exposing the forehead to the eyes.

The brown-red hair spread all the way to the forehead that should have been white and flat, even reaching the eyebrows.

Seen in the shadows of the alley, the upper half of her face almost lost her sense of being human, and her gray pupils even faintly glowed.

"That's it."

Even though there was no one around, she quickly put on the bandage, and said in a crying voice: "I am like this, and other people have similar things. Sandy's hands began to grow scales, and they had to soak in water every two hours. Or start to bleed. Louise has a huge sarcoma growing on her back that weighs her down, and Nancy, she can only smell with her tongue now and we're turning into monsters!"

Mary was not moved at all when she saw Sylvia's true face, until she heard these descriptions of the mutation.

She thought of the people Galid had told her to execute—the sick with the colonial plague.

In order to prevent infection, she personally killed many people.

Mary thought, stretched out her arms to hug Sylvia, her expression softened where she couldn't see.

It sounds like everyone in the club is still sane, and they can still be saved.

Mary didn't want to give them up.

"You've always been my friends, and you've become anything. And it's just a disease, not incurable. I've heard of it. My friends in the Sheriff's Department know about it. It's been in the papers lately. There are many people like this. But with timely treatment, you will be well soon. I will go to the clinic with you until you are cured."

As she spoke, it suddenly occurred to her that although Gelid mentioned that there was such a clinic, he had never taken her to see it.

Hearing her answer, Sylvia slowly pushed her away, leaned against the wall, and said sadly: "This is not a disease, I know what it is, the dark age is returning."

"What did you say?" Mary suspected that she hadn't heard clearly. This kind of statement seemed to be found out of a child's fairy tale book.

"Rosa in the club, she's a witch, she told us everything. We didn't believe it at first, but she had a way to keep us working, so that the audience couldn't see our state, and she used some special potions and fumes. Shan made her witchcraft work, but only in the club."

Mary took a deep breath, reason and trust in her friend colliding at this moment.

She wanted to believe Gelid, but the state Sylvia said couldn't be explained by known common sense.

And the man who was watching at the club door also asked himself a question about Rosa, and this situation may not be accidental.

In the end, she could only ask, "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

Sylvia replied melancholy: "We wanted to tell you at the time, but then we all suddenly felt that this might scare you, so."

No one wanted to tell Mary the truth, which made her feel a little inconceivable.

"Are there any conditions for this help?"

"She asked us to perform a certain number of pieces, and she asked us to swear allegiance to an out-of-town boy prophet, and accommodated as much as he could."

"Is Rosa at the club now?"

Mary was going to ask the witch for clarification.If the negotiation fails, she doesn't mind using force.

Compared with Sylvia's trust in Rosa, Mary is more inclined to be the witch who created all this.

If fairy tales are true, then of course the Wicked Witch is also true.Instinct told her that even if the witch didn't do it, she must be happy with the changes, and she might still be using her unsuspecting friends.

"She was out of the club a week ago and may never come back."

Speaking of this matter, Sylvia began to tremble again: "If she comes back, she must take revenge on us."

"What did you do?"

Mary's heartbeat also quickened, and she unconsciously reached for the holster on her waist. The weapon made her feel at ease.

"The prophet said that he had a way to use holy objects to lead us to the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven, then he took us to an old house, gave us guns, and said that there is only one guardian there, if anyone sees Others come in, let us kill them."

Speaking of murder, Sylvia's voice also began to tremble.

Not everyone can face death calmly, especially the death caused by oneself.

Mary stepped forward to hold her hand, giving her warmth and courage:

"I know it's not easy."

Sylvia calmed down: "Later, we found that in that old house, the guardian that the prophet said was dead, right at the back door, and the body was gnawed to pieces by rats. He was very surprised and let us They all went upstairs to search, and went to see the so-called holy objects by themselves."

"We were waiting upstairs, and soon we heard a voice from downstairs. A man we didn't know came up with a gun. We remembered the prophet's words and forced him to throw the gun to us, but we couldn't do it, just Hit him a few times, and then hang him up with all our strength."

"Did he die afterwards?" asked Mary.

Sylvia shook her head: "I don't know. Then there was another fight downstairs, but it ended quickly. Nancy said she smelled a terrible monster approaching, and the prophet's breath became weak. We also heard The stairs were making loud noises, and they all ran away because they were so scared."

Mary comforted her: "It's a good result. You didn't follow his words to kill people, and you maintained your conscience."

"But we have abandoned the Prophet, and he may be dead."

Sylvia covered her face, feeling guilty, which seemed unnatural to Mary.

The guy called the Prophet should have just come to the club recently, and their relationship should not be so good.

"It's not your fault either."

Mary thought for a while, and then said: "Now, prepare your belongings that are easy to carry, and then come to my house. Don't stay here to work, lest that witch come to the door."

"Is this okay? I heard that witches know how to do divination." Sylvia worried, for fear of implicating Mary.

Mary patted the gun holster on her waist, and said to herself: "Her divination must not be as fast as bullets."

She suddenly remembered something again and asked, "Sylvia, what are you doing going out this time?"

Sylvia was a little nervous, and touched her chest to confirm the existence of the item: "We just found out that the confiscated weapon is still with us, we don't want to keep it, it may be tracked by the prophet's enemies, so I plan to find Lost somewhere."

"Can you show me?" Mary held out her hand.

Sylvia drew a revolver from her bosom and placed it in the palm of her hand.

Mary took hold of the grip, surprised to find herself familiar with the make and style of the gun.

This is a special ranger revolver, and only the commander of the cavalry is currently issued with such a gun.

Her father had one too.

(End of this chapter)