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“You may wonder why I would bring the death of a demon to the attention of Clearhelm’s citizens.” I pause to let the people quiet. “First, not all Others live within the Yard. The walls behind me hold but a fraction of our citizens.”
I stare into the camera in front of me. “Lethoba Tetuan of the Yara-Ma-Yha-Who has been taken from existence. To his friends and to his leaf-mates, we offer our eternal sorrow.”
I grip the rough edges of the podium. “I wish that this was the end of what I need to address, but it is only the beginning. The method of attack matches two other cases under Clearhelm Police’s investigation. That of Reverend Shawe of the Church of Humanity and the other of Vicki Brown, known in childhood as Victoria Shawe.”
That garners a greater reaction than Lethoba’s death, and I glance over my shoulder at Pen.
She nods and pulls out her phone, pressing a button.
As Pen sends her text message, a chorus of bings erupt from the news reporters in front of us. Microphones dip as they check their messages, their faces reflecting a mix of shock and anticipation of being the first to know the gossip.
“What you have just received is the picture of a yearbook from West Glover High from fifteen years ago.” I raise my voice to be heard over the commotion. “This proves that the second victim in these mauling cases was, in fact, Revered Shawe’s daughter.”
The revelation of Vicki Brown’s connection to Reverend Shawe elicits gasps from the crowd. Reporters scribble down notes, thirsty for every new tidbit.
“My people uncovered this information within the first hour of our investigation.” I shake my head in disappointment. “How the Clearhelm Police have failed to make the same discovery, I do not know. But I need everyone to be aware that there is a link between the first two victims.”
I allow that to sink in before continuing. “The Clearhelm Police would have you believe that these are random animal attacks and that staying indoors will protect you.”
I lean forward, meeting the gaze of each news person. “I am here to tell you that they are not random. The same killer targeted Reverend Shawe, Vicki Brown, and Lethoba Tetuan of the Yara-Ma-Yha-Who, and they are only the beginning.”
The blond reporter at the front thrusts her microphone toward me. “What do you think is targeting people, Captain Sharpe?”
I don’t correct her use of my old title. Reminding people of my authority can only work in my favor. “The evidence points to a creature called a black dog.”
The word black dog hangs in the air, and panic and curiosity ripple through the crowd as the reporters struggle to process the information. I can already see the worry about pets rising, and I’m glad Pen and I prepared for this.
More bings ripple through the group as Pen sends her next message.
“The text you just received is a picture of what this creature looks like.” Sweat trickles down the side of my face, and I resist the urge to wipe my brow. “When I say black dog, I speak of a monster from myth, raised from the dead and possessed by dark forces. This demonic hound possesses the ability to appear and vanish without a trace, making it difficult to track or predict.”
“How can we stop it, then?” demands the same reporter, and calls of agreement rise into the air.
“If you have had contact with Vicki Brown, we ask that you reach out. We believe that she is the link between those being targeted.” I give out the number for the Hub.
“What about the Clearhelm Police?” The reporter’s pale blue eyes gleam. “Are they equipped to handle this case?”
“No.” The single word drops like a weight in the crowd.
Her clear voice cuts through the murmurs as if carried by magic. “What will you do, Captain Sharpe?”
“As you are aware, the Chief of Police closed the Joint Task Force of Paranormal Investigations.” I straighten my spine and square my shoulders. “But that does not mean we have forgotten our duty to Clearhelm. Already, my team of people within the Yard are working on Lethoba’s case, and by extension, on the cases of Reverend Shawe and Victoria Shawe.”
The reporters stare up at me, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and hope. “I have never backed down when Clearhelm is in danger. I was here when Others first revealed themself to the world, here when a dragon landed on Main Street, here when a forest god rose to destroy us, and I am still here, ready to protect our citizens.”
A cheer rises from the people gathered at the back, and I wait for them to settle. “The moment we find out more about how to ward against the black dog, we will contact the press to spread the word. We will have more answers for you in the coming hours, so stay close to your TVs and radios, and make sure you have notifications set to alert to news stories.”
The crowd murmurs, trading glances among themselves. I can’t blame them for their worry. I dropped a bomb on them without offering a solution. But we need those calls directed to the Hub to be able to identify the next victims faster than combing through Vicki’s torrid past.
“Would it be wise for people to leave Clearhelm temporarily?” another reporter shouts, his face etched with concern.
“Leaving Clearhelm is a personal decision.” I sweep my gaze across the gathering. “However, I would advise those with family outside town to seek refuge with them, if possible. It’s essential that we prioritize the safety and well-being of our loved ones during these trying times.”
My words strike a chord, and several heads nod in agreement, their cameras capturing every word I say. The people gathered at the back look worried, and murmurs spread, their eyes darting from person to person. Uncertainty and fear hang heavy in the air as people struggle to come up with a plan to protect themselves from a creature of myth.
I clear my throat and address the crowd once more. “I’d also like to announce that the Yard Council is offering sanctuary to those who cannot leave Clearhelm. Our community is strong. As ground zero for the return of magic to our world, we have faced danger before and persevered. We will face this new threat with the same strength and determination.”
“Captain Sharpe!” A journalist near the back waves her hand. “How do you plan on fitting the entire population of Clearhelm within the walls of the Yard? Surely there isn’t enough space?”
