The Laws of Werewolf Hunting

Chapter 79 Popularity is not necessarily a good thing
Creighton underestimated the significance of the dark moon.

The change of this mysterious star is like a natural disaster to mortals, completely uncontrollable.

Even for those who have mastered a certain amount of extraordinary power, their relatives still cannot avoid the fate of being alienated.

No matter how noble the bloodline is, it is possible to be transformed into the "despicable beast" in the past propaganda.

In the face of fear, people regain their faith.

Even the most extreme unbelievers are shaken and forced to admit that there are things in the world beyond the imagination of mortals.

If there is no Supreme Being, no opposition between light and dark poles, no mysterious spiritual powers from ancient stars, how can ordinary people be transformed into twisted creatures that can only appear in the nightmares of these drunks?
In order to resist inner unease, people regain their faith.

The material manifestation of this phenomenon is that the church's discourse power has risen, and the clergy have therefore received more courtesy and respect.

At present, this form is clear at a glance.

Of course, the officials in charge of the civil service only need to face paper documents for statistics and management work, and naturally ignore the bishop's thoughts, but the major needs a lot of cooperation from the church, so when it comes to religious matters, he cares more about the bishop's thoughts manner.

"Their spirits are too fragile to be suitable for the current job." The bishop answered Clayton instead of Major Doron.

Clayton didn't believe his claims.

The Salvation Army is a bit paranoid, but their core members are experienced, having served and fought in some of the harshest environments in the world (although this is also the reason for their restlessness and sensitivity).

They are fighters and should be put where they are needed.

But it seems that no one here is willing to answer his questions in depth.

They asked some more questions about what the coroner Archer said, and what they saw and heard in the military hospital. The questions they asked were very detailed, but the most important role-the Holy Grail was selectively forgotten. up.

The last business-related question is over, and the official's pen is pressed on the paper to record the end time, and then the pen is capped.

"Barbara and Florentine are from your Presbyterian Church too? Are they here?"

"I didn't see them."

The officer called the soldiers outside again, but got the same answer.

So after the soldiers went out, he turned to the major and asked, "Major Doron, do your soldiers really know where they live?"

The officer answered him angrily: "I got the information from your health bureau."

They inadvertently exposed the fact that the information about the members of the Presbyterian Church had already been found out, and their previous declarations were just to test the attitude of the person being questioned.

However, Clayton didn't care about this method. He was more curious about the official's status in the Health Bureau.

Why would the government send an official from the Health Bureau to deal with the dark matter?
"And does Mr. Bello know where they are?"

"I'm not sure where they usually are," Clayton answered half-truthfully.

In his opinion, it was a strange thing for those people to stay in the Pulitzer Mansion. Even if they became dark descendants, they should have their own home.

The elders of the Presbyterian Church usually don’t seem to need any fighters. Rather than being hired, those dark descendants ran away from home after being afraid of society and their families, and then happened to stay in a place where they would not be rejected. Base of meeting assumes sanatorium.

But precisely because of this, they can leave at any time, so Clayton's statement is not entirely wrong.

There was silence in the room for a while, only the sound of officials flipping papers.

The official who didn't know which department he worked in flipped through the previous transcript, as if checking whether Clayton's statement was consistent, then put down the stack of papers and looked at the others.

"Do you have any questions?"

"I have, but it has nothing to do with the subject of this interrogation," said the bishop. "If Mr. Bello wants, we can talk later."

"Just now, I have something to do later."

The bishop was a little helpless about Clayton's vigilance, so he had to say frankly: "I noticed that you seem to have some special talents. If you are willing to accept employment, we can also establish a long-term agreement and provide some corresponding help."

He was very euphemistic.

Others may only know Creighton's dark blood identity, but can't see the specific race, but the church is different, they have been dealing with dark blood for a long time.

Clayton also understood that his identity as a werewolf had been exposed, but he did not refuse to cooperate.

The Presbyterian Church doesn't pay attention to the interests of its members, and the Holy Grail Society is too cruel. Compared with them, the impression of the traditional church seems amiable in his mind.

It would be a good plan to make friends with the local church before going to Weiodie to join the werewolf clan.

There is only one problem.

"I'd like to say I would, but I have my own job and I'm a sheriff at St Alvin's parish at night"

Clayton did some calculations, and found that it was easier for him to be a human.

Is this the price of power?
"It doesn't matter, this is not a problem." The bishop smiled and did not say the specific content of the cooperation: "We will contact you later, if your address has not changed."

They had no more questions, so Clayton walked out of the room.

The people in the corridor have not changed, there are still two soldiers, and Marie Etta sitting on the bench.

The presence of the latter surprised Creighton.

The main thing that surprised him was that she was walking towards him with purpose, as if waiting for him.

Since there is only one person in the room being questioned, there is no need to worry about identifying the wrong person.

"Can we find a place to talk?"

Clayton tightened his collar, thinking about the reasons for his recent sudden popularity.

"Of course, Miss Mary, you can choose a place." He responded in a gentlemanly manner while thinking.

10 minutes later, they sat in a beer hall.

Clayton looked at Marie Etta silently, and the full wine glasses on the table, each glass was bigger than his palm, and the froth from the beer had flowed onto the table, sticky.

Marie Etta drank half of the glass in one go, but saw that Clayton didn't move.

"Is that weird?"

"I thought ladies wouldn't have the habit of drinking." Clayton looked complicated. Even before he became a werewolf, when his sense of smell was not so sensitive, he didn't like beer, because his sharp tongue could always taste the ingredients of brewing bitter taste.

He prefers home-brewed country-style liqueur to beer.

"Because it's beer, so it's not considered alcoholism." Marie Etta argued with a logic that no one has heard: "I bought it for two people, and the other half is for you."

As she spoke, Creighton counted the drinks on the table.

The two drank a gallon of beer together, which happened to save dinner, but it was not elegant to go home with their stomachs shaking.

But it's not that he can't drink at all now, and he said before that he let Mary choose the place at will.

A few drinks now and then are not a bad thing, he convinced himself.

After finishing a cup in one go, Clayton asked Mary Aita why she was looking for him, but even if she didn't tell him, he knew the answer had nothing to do with his own charm.

It is no exaggeration to say that he is considered a handsome man in the public aesthetics, but this advantage probably does not exist in Mary's eyes.

In a world without beauty and ugliness, will people become noble because they lose their desires?
Clayton suddenly had this idea, thought about it roughly, and concluded that he glanced at Marigold.

Although she doesn't know the answer, this girl has been practicing it herself.

Mary didn't know what he was thinking, and drank another half of the glass boldly. After putting down the glass, she drew the gun from her waist and pressed it on the table.

Of course she wasn't challenging the lieutenant to a duel, she was just showing off the gun.

This is a revolver, it has a black barrel and a white grip, and the magazine has six empty chambers. According to the thickness of the barrel and the shape of the sight, it can be judged that its style is the same as that of Creighton. It is a ranger revolver that can only be ordered in the army, and it is better than most of the pistols on the market in terms of accuracy and rate of fire.

"I want to know how the owner of this gun died?" She said in a dull voice, wondering if the wine in her mouth hadn't been swallowed yet.

Clayton picked up the revolver, inspecting it for signs of use.

Unlike him, the owner of this gun used it so often that it even left finger marks on the grip.

This should be the gun of a warrior who has experienced many battles.

"Who is its owner?"

"my father."

(End of this chapter)