Patient B-2

Chapter Seven: Cierien

New York, contrary to its glamorous portrayal, is far from pristine. Its streets are littered with trash, the air thick with the scent of exhaust and the cacophony of bustling crowds. For a vampire like myself, it's a sensory overload, every sound and smell assaulting my heightened senses. It's a chaotic environment, one that seems incongruous with the refined tastes of most vampires. It makes sense why WWA would operate here, if they are at all, because I can't image any vampire willingly choosing to make this city their permanent residence.

With no concrete plan in place other than the directive to eliminate Idalia, the specifics of how to accomplish the daunting tasks remain elusive. Yet, with the three of us present, I doubt we will encounter significant obstacles. Wrath's directive is clear: complete the task swiftly and depart without entangling ourselves further in WWA affairs. It's a straightforward mission- kill Idalia and leave New York just as quickly as we came.

Sophie and I were understandably apprehensive about making the journey, but Wrath's insistence left us with little choice but to depart California immediately. We find ourselves holed up in a modest, somewhat shabby hotel situated right in the heart of Manhattan. While we lack precise information regarding Idalia's current location, it's reasonable to assume that she too would gravitate towards the bustling energy of the city. Our proximity to the epicenter of activity increases our chances of encountering her, but it also heightens the tension of the unknown.

Over the past year and a half, Wrath has displayed a surprising adeptness with technology. He managed to retrieve footage from a nearby camera overlooking the warehouse that had burned down. Upon review, we were met with a grainy image of a figure- a blonde- making her way down the street. While her features were obscured and her body concealed by dark clothing, the distinct gait and mannerisms hinted at her identity. It had to be her- Idalia. Despite the poor quality of the footage, there was an undeniable certainty in our hearts.

Wrath has returned to the hotel, undoubtedly immersing himself in the digital labyrinth of surveillance footage, scouring every available camera feed in his relentless pursuit of Idalia's trail. Meanwhile, Sophie and I, lacking in technological prowess, have chosen to leave him to his work and explore the city.

"She always talked about wanting to come here," Sophie says, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she links her arm with mine. "She believed that being in a place like this would toughen her up, force her to find her strength amidst the hustle and bustle of city life."

"She was always a bundle of nerves. I'm not too sure it would have helped. Avalyn in this chaos? She'd probably be clinging to the nearest lamppost for dear life," I speak lightheartedly, my laugh echoing through the lively streets.

My poor girl was never comfortable in crowded spaces or even with making a simple phone call by herself. Yet, her fierce loyalty and unwavering devotion to those she loved were unparalleled. I can't help but smile through the ache in my heart as I recall the way she fearlessly defended me against Idalia's venomous words. Despite her own insecurities, she possessed a purity of soul that shone brightly in moments of adversity. She may have been timid in certain aspects, but her courage and love knew no bounds.

"Oh, she'd be a mess," Sophie agrees, laughing alongside me. "You know, we were going to leave that night?"

"What do you mean?"

Her laughter falters, a somber shadow crossing her features as she confides in me. Her grip tightens on my arm, betraying the tremor she tries to conceal. "Before Idalia..." she begins, her voice catching in her throat. "We were planning to leave, to come here to New York. Avalyn might have been a mess in this city, but at least she'd still be alive."

I observe her eyes drooping, and instinctively, she seeks refuge in my arm, a silent plea to shield herself from the gaze of passersby. "Perhaps if I hadn't insisted on one final drink, we could have made it happen."