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Chapter One

As night fell, the cold moon hung high in the sky. The bright moonlight fell on the ancient castle on the edge of the city, casting a mysterious silver veil around it. Emily stood on the balcony, looking at the forest in the distance, and felt a chill rising from the bottom of her heart. Since moving to this castle, her life has become bizarre and mysterious.
The cold wind in October swept across her bare shoulders, bringing a shudder. Emily subconsciously wrapped her woolen shawl tightly around her, but she couldn't feel any warmth. This castle seems to be always cold, just like its mysterious owner Lucas Black, exuding an inaccessible atmosphere.
"Miss Emily," suddenly, a low voice sounded behind her, "You'll catch a cold if you're still outside so late."
She turned around and saw Lucas standing at the balcony door. The moonlight outlined his tall figure. He was wearing a dark silk shirt, and the collar vaguely revealed his strong chest. The amber eyes flickered strangely in the darkness, as if they could see through her soul.
"Mr. Black," Emily whispered, trying to hide the trembling in her voice, "I'm just admiring the moonlight."
Lucas took a step forward, but suddenly stopped. Emily noticed that his body stiffened instantly, and his nostrils fluttered slightly, as if he was sniffing something. His expression became solemn, and a glimmer of wildness flashed in his eyes, but was quickly suppressed.
"Please go in," his voice was hoarser than usual, "It's not safe here."
Just then, a cold night breeze swept across the balcony, bringing a faint smell of rust. Emily saw that Lucas's fingers were almost pinched into the stone railing, and his knuckles were white. She couldn't help but take a step back, her heartbeat accelerated.
"I thought this castle was the safest place," she whispered, "after all, you are here."
Lucas let out an almost inaudible growl, "Some danger, Miss Emily, is much closer than you think." His eyes looked unusually sharp in the moonlight, "especially on a full moon night."
Suddenly, a wolf howl came from the distant forest, shrill and long. Emily was surprised to find that Lucas' pupils shrank in an instant and turned into vertical pupils like a beast, but the fleeting change made her wonder if it was just an illusion caused by the moonlight.
Just then, a cold breath passed by her from behind, accompanied by a chuckle. Emily turned around and saw only a dark shadow flashing in the corner of the balcony. When she looked back again, Lucas had come to her side, with a hand gently on her shoulder.
"I'll take you back to your room," he said, with an unquestionable commanding tone in his voice. Emily noticed that his palms were surprisingly hot, in sharp contrast to the chill of the castle.
Walking in the dark corridor of the castle, Emily could feel Lucas' presence, he walked behind her like a silent guardian. Moonlight poured in through the Gothic stained glass windows, casting mottled shadows on the floor.
"Good night, Miss Emily," Lucas whispered in front of her door, "Remember, no matter what sound you hear, don't leave the room tonight."
"Why?" Emily asked subconsciously.
Lucas was silent for a moment, his eyes looked deep and dangerous in the moonlight, "Because the moonlight tonight is too beautiful, it will always wake up something that shouldn't wake up."
When the door closed behind her, Emily leaned against the door, her heartbeat still alarmingly fast. She could hear Lucas's footsteps gradually fading away, but she seemed to hear the sound of wings flapping outside the window. She walked to the window and looked out through the glass.
In the moonlit courtyard, she saw a figure standing by the fountain. The man looked up at her window, and the moonlight illuminated his pale marble face - it was Draco, with a mysterious smile on his lips and a dangerous light in his eyes. When Emily blinked, his figure had disappeared, as if he had never appeared. Emily lay trembling on the bed, listening to the wolf howling outside the window. She knew that she had fallen into a world full of dangers, and this was just the beginning. On this moonlit night, her fate was closely linked to two mysterious and dangerous beings, and there was no turning back.

Chapter Two

In the dead of night, Emily lay in bed, the faces of Lucas and Draco appeared in her mind. She could not resist the deep attraction, but she also knew that she was caught in a dangerous vortex. She knew that the confrontation between the two men was a life-and-death hostility, and she was just a pawn in their war. A corner of her heart reminded her to escape, but the deeper desire pulled her to stay in this mysterious castle, looking forward to the unknown encounter.

        Just as she was about to fall asleep, a slight knock on the window interrupted the silence. Emily opened her eyes, and the moonlight poured into the room through the curtains, making the corners of the room particularly dark. She sat up subconsciously, trembling slightly and walked to the window. When she opened the curtains, a figure was standing in front of her, cold and elegant.

        It was Draco.

        "Sorry, I scared you, Emily." His low voice was frivolous and indifferent, as if every word revealed his unfathomable darkness. His eyes were like two flames in the abyss, locking onto her with an irresistible force.

        "How... are you here?" Emily's heartbeat quickened, and her hands unconsciously clenched a corner of the curtain. She knew she should be scared at this moment, but Draco's unique charm made it hard for her to resist.

        Draco did not answer her question, but slowly approached, lowered his head and whispered in her ear: "You know why I'm here, Emily. You've never really been afraid of me, right?"

        The moment he approached, she smelled the cold breath on him, as if it came from the night a thousand years ago. Her breathing gradually became rapid, but she did not retreat, but was locked by his eyes, as if her soul was also attracted to him.

        "Draco... we can't do this." Her voice was weak, but she did not retreat at all, as if even she herself was struggling with contradictions.

        "You don't belong here at all, Emily. Staying here will only put you in deeper danger." Draco gently lifted her chin, with a smile on the corner of his cold mouth, that smile was both gentle and dangerous, "But if you want to know the real darkness, then come. I will take you to see everything."

        At this moment, the door was pushed open, and Lucas' figure appeared at the door like a shadow. His face was gloomy, and his eyes were burning with anger. It was his possessiveness and anger that he could not hide. He walked towards Draco step by step, his hands clenched, his muscles tensed, as if he was going to pounce on and tear the enemy in front of him in the next second.

        "Draco, let her go." Lucas' voice was low and threatening, like an enraged beast. It was the first time Emily saw him so out of control, his eyes were like a ball of unextinguishable fire, revealing uncontrollable anger and possessiveness.

        Draco smiled slightly, released Emily's chin, and looked at Lucas provocatively. "Don't you understand yet? She doesn't belong to you. The savagery of the wolf tribe is nothing but a bondage to her, and I can give her true freedom."

        "The 'freedom' you mentioned will only make her fall into darkness. You don't understand what true protection is." Lucas sneered, his eyes as sharp as an eagle. He slowly stepped forward, blocked Emily, and protected her behind him. That was his attitude as the wolf king, firm and unshakable.

        Emily was sandwiched between the two, feeling her heartbeat speed up, as if breathing became difficult. These two completely different forces intertwined and collided in front of her, making it impossible for her to decide which side to choose.

        Draco raised the corners of his mouth and slowly took a step back, his eyes still on Emily. "Emily, one day you will find that he can't satisfy the desire in your heart. And I am your true home."

        As soon as the voice fell, Draco's figure disappeared into the night, as if he had never appeared.

        Lucas looked at the empty room, his fists gradually loosened, but the anger and worry in his eyes remained. He turned around and looked at Emily softly, but his eyes still flashed with contradictions and forbearance.

        "Are you okay?" He asked in a low voice, with a trace of undisguised concern in his voice.

        Emily nodded, but her heart was in turmoil and it was difficult to calm down. She knew that she had fallen too deep. She could not let go of these two men easily, nor could she easily resist them. A complex emotion surged in her heart, which was a dangerous and fatal attraction.

        "Lucas, I..." She wanted to say something, but lost her words when she met his eyes.

        "Don't get close to him." Lucas' voice was low, with a hint of pleading and warning, "I know you feel confused, but Draco is not what you think. He will only drag you into the darkness, and I won't let him hurt you."

        Emily just looked at him silently, and a touch of uncertainty gradually rose in her heart. She knew that this was not just a war, but a contest of feelings and desires. In this dangerous triangle relationship, she has gone too far and can never turn back.

Chapter Three

Emily stayed awake all night. The wind outside the window blew through the woods, making a low moan, as if the whole castle was whispering in her ear. She curled up in bed, recalling Draco's cold smile and Lucas's deep eyes. Two completely different attractions stirred in her heart, making her lost on the edge of danger and desire.

        When the sky was slightly bright, she made a decision. She had to figure out what she wanted, the wildness and protection of the wolf tribe, or the mystery and temptation of the vampire. She got up and walked out of the room, walked through the deserted corridor, and came to the door of Lucas's study.

        The door of the study was slightly open, and a whisper came from inside. Emily stood outside the door and pricked up her ears to listen.

        "She is innocent, Lucas." A low and gentle female voice came from Lucas's sister, Leila. Emily had heard rumors about her. Leila was the wisest prophet in the wolf tribe and could always see fragments of the future.

        "I know, Leila." Lucas' voice was hoarse, as if he had struggled all night, "but I can't control myself, I can't suppress my desire for her. I'm afraid that if she stays with me, she will only be swallowed by my darkness."

        Emily's heart trembled, and she raised her hand to push open the door.

        "Lucas." Her voice was abrupt and firm in the silent room.

        The two turned around and saw her standing at the door with a hint of determination in her eyes. She walked slowly towards Lucas, looked up at him, with a hint of determination and inquiry in her eyes.

        "I know you protect me, but I'm not a fragile child." Her voice was calm and firm, "I need to know the truth. Why are you always so hesitant? And why is Draco so persistent in approaching me?"

        Lucas' expression froze for a moment, his eyes wandering on her face, as if he was weighing whether to tell her everything. Finally, he took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind.

        "Emily, the fate of our werewolves is usually determined at birth. The wolf tribe has a unique ability to perceive its partner. When we find that person, we will feel an attraction that cannot be ignored... and you are my destined partner." Lucas spoke in a low voice, with pain and desire flashing in his eyes.

        Emily's heartbeat accelerated, and thousands of emotions surged in her mind, both shocked and confused. She never thought that she would become his destined partner, and his possessiveness and protectiveness of her turned out to come from this ancient bond.

        She asked softly: "What about Draco? Why is he so obsessed with me?"

        Lucas's eyes became more gloomy, and there was a hint of anger in his eyes. "Draco's tribe never believed in fate. They prefer to dominate their own future. And he believes that as long as he possesses you, he can destroy me and the traditional beliefs of the wolf tribe. So, he is not sincere to you, but to weaken my power."

        Emily's heart suddenly tightened, and a hint of anger and loss surged in her eyes. However, she also felt a little unwilling, as if she was just a tool in this struggle, being fought over and torn by the two, and she had no right to control herself.

        "So, Lucas, are you sincere? Is it just fate for me?" There was a hint of disappointment in her voice, and her eyes became cold.

        Lucas was stunned, as if he was hurt by her question. He was silent for a moment before speaking: "Emily, I can't deny the existence of fate, but I can't ignore my feelings for you." He gently held her hand, his eyes full of affection and desire, "Whether it is fate or something else, I am willing to give up everything for you."

        Just then, a slight sound came from outside the window. Emily turned back suddenly and saw a pair of dark red eyes flashing outside the window, like a flame in the dark, and the familiar cold breath startled her heart.

        It was Draco.

        He stood outside the window, sneering at them, as if everything was under his control. He knocked on the window lightly, his voice cold and full of provocation: "I don't think it's possible to talk about 'betraying' everything here, Lucas. You can't protect her because she will eventually come to me."

        Lucas' eyes immediately became cold and dangerous. He stood in front of Emily, glared at Draco outside the window, and growled in a low voice: "Stay away from her, Draco. You can't force her to choose darkness."

        Draco smiled slightly, his eyes full of evil confidence. He raised his eyebrows at Emily, as if everything was under his control. "Dear Emily, you will find that the bright world cannot satisfy your desire. And darkness - is your destination." After he finished speaking, his figure instantly disappeared into the night.

        The room returned to silence, but the air was filled with tension and uneasiness. Emily looked at the empty darkness outside the window, feeling both fear and desire in her heart. She could no longer deny Draco's attraction to her, and the danger and mystery made her heart beat faster.

        Lucas noticed her hesitation, and a trace of pain and uneasiness flashed in his eyes. He gently held her hand and whispered, "Emily, don't get close to him. His darkness will devour you and make you lost in the endless night."

        She didn't respond, but just looked at him silently, her heart full of complicated emotions. She knew that she could no longer simply withdraw from the two of them. Her fate had been drawn into an uncontrollable vortex, and the only thing she could do was to follow her heart and touch the unknown darkness.

Chapter Four

As autumn deepened, the forest surrounding the castle donned a cloak of gold and crimson. Yet Emily felt none of the season's warmth. Since that night's revelation, her mind had been in constant turmoil, with Lucas's truth and Draco's temptation intertwining like two serpents in her thoughts, leaving her breathless.

        That evening, Emily found herself alone in the castle's library, searching through ancient tomes for any mention of werewolves and vampires. As she focused on a yellowed manuscript, the air suddenly turned cold. Looking up, she found Draco standing across from her, his appearance as silent as shadow.

        "Seeking truth, my dear Emily?" Draco leaned elegantly against the bookshelf, wearing a deep purple silk shirt that made his skin appear even paler. "But you know, written accounts are often one-sided."

        Emily instinctively stepped back. "Why do you always appear like this? It's unsettling."

        Draco chuckled softly, moving toward her with fluid grace. "Because I enjoy seeing you startled. It makes you even more enticing." His fingers traced her cheek, the cold touch making her shiver. "Lucas told you I'm merely using you, but did he mention that his fate is actually a chain binding him?"

        Emily froze. "What do you mean?"

        "The werewolves' so-called destined mates are nothing but constraints in their bloodline," Draco's voice carried a hypnotic power. "They're forced to love someone, forced to protect them. Isn't that tragic? While I..." his gaze deepened, "I choose you because I'm truly drawn to you."

        A low growl suddenly echoed from the doorway. Lucas stood there, his eyes now golden, filled with rage. "Step away from her, Draco!" His voice carried an unmistakable threat.

        Instead of retreating, Draco pulled Emily closer. "Why so angry, Lucas? Is it because I spoke the truth, or because you fear she might choose me?"

        The tension in the air grew thick enough to cut. Emily could feel the energy between the two men threatening to tear the room apart. Lucas's body trembled as he fought to control the beast within.

        "Enough!" Emily suddenly shouted, "What am I to both of you? Some trophy to be won?" Her voice carried both anger and hurt.

        Both men froze. Pain flashed across Lucas's eyes, while Draco's expression turned contemplative.

        Emily pushed away from Draco and walked toward the door, but paused beside Lucas. "You say I'm your destiny, but have you considered my feelings?" Her voice was soft but accusatory. "And you, Draco, if you truly cared for me, you wouldn't use me as a weapon against him."

        She hurried from the library, and only when she reached the corridor did her tears finally fall. She didn't know whom to trust - Lucas, chosen by fate, or Draco, who chose her himself? More importantly, she began to question whether she truly understood her own heart.

        As night fell, Emily stood on her balcony. Wolves howled in the distant forest, while somewhere in the castle, she thought she heard the flutter of bat wings. Everything reminded her that she stood at the crossroads between two worlds, and she had to make a choice.

        Then she noticed items on the balcony railing: a rose as black as night with a blood-red sheen - Draco's mark. Beside it lay a wolf fang necklace, a werewolf protection charm, obviously left by Lucas.

        Emily gently touched both items, her internal conflict growing stronger. She knew that choosing either would alter her destiny forever. But more importantly, she needed to understand what her heart truly desired.

        As moonlight bathed the castle grounds, Emily realized that her decision wouldn't just be about choosing between two men - it was about choosing what kind of life she wanted, and more importantly, who she wanted to become.

Chapter Five

The following days in the castle were filled with an unbearable tension. Emily found herself constantly caught between shadows and silence, between warmth and cold. Every corner seemed to hold either Lucas's protective presence or Draco's seductive whispers. The weight of their attention was becoming increasingly suffocating.

        One particularly cold morning, Emily discovered a mysterious leather-bound book in the library's restricted section. Its pages contained ancient prophecies about the eternal conflict between werewolves and vampires. As she read, her hands trembling, she found something that made her blood run cold.

        'When the moon bleeds red and the night grows teeth, a choice will be made that breaks the ancient cycle. A mortal's heart shall tip the balance, bringing either eternal darkness or salvation to both races.'

        "Interesting reading material," Leila's voice suddenly came from behind. Lucas's sister moved like a ghost, her silver eyes holding centuries of wisdom. "I've been waiting for you to find this."

        Emily closed the book carefully. "Is this... about me?"

        Leila's expression remained enigmatic. "The prophecy speaks of a mortal who stands between our worlds. But prophecies, dear Emily, are like rivers - they show the destination, but the path taken is always your choice."

        "What happens if I choose wrong?" Emily's voice wavered.

        "There is no wrong choice, only consequences," Leila replied, her voice gentle but firm. "But I must warn you - the blood moon approaches, and with it, a moment of truth that will change everything."

        Before Emily could ask more questions, a commotion erupted from the castle grounds. They rushed to the window to see Lucas and Draco facing each other in the courtyard, their postures tense with barely contained violence.

        "You've crossed the line, Draco," Lucas's voice carried up to them, filled with fury. "You dare to mark our territory?"

        Draco's laugh was cold and mocking. "Territory? This stopped being about territory the moment she arrived. Or are you afraid she's already choosing me?"

        Emily watched in horror as Lucas's form began to shift, his muscles rippling beneath his clothes. The morning sun caught his golden eyes, now burning with primal rage. Draco's own transformation was more subtle - his pale skin taking on an otherworldly sheen, his movements becoming impossibly fluid.

        "Stop!" Emily's voice rang out across the courtyard. Both men froze, their attention snapping to her window. "This has to end!"

        She turned to rush downstairs, but Leila caught her arm. "Be careful, Emily. The blood moon is three days away. Under its light, both races lose control of their darker natures. And you..." she paused meaningfully, "you will be at your most vulnerable."

        When Emily reached the courtyard, the tension was thick enough to choke on. Lucas immediately moved to her side, his protective instinct evident in every motion. But it was Draco who spoke first.

        "My apologies for the disturbance, dear Emily," his voice was silk over steel. "But perhaps it's time you understood the full scope of what you're involved in." He pulled an ancient medallion from his coat. "This belongs to your grandmother. She wasn't just any woman - she was a guardian, keeper of the balance between our races."

        Emily's world tilted. "My grandmother? But she died when I was young..."

        "She was murdered," Lucas cut in, his voice heavy with old pain. "By those who wanted to destroy the peace between our kinds. And now, as her descendant, you inherit her role - and her enemies."

        The revelation hit Emily like a physical blow. Suddenly, everything made more sense - the mysterious circumstances that led her to the castle, both men's intense interest in her, the prophecy. She wasn't just caught between two supernatural beings; she was part of an ancient legacy.

        "The blood moon comes," Draco said softly, his eyes locked on Emily. "And with it, powers long dormant will awaken. You'll need to choose not just between us, Emily, but between two paths for both our races."

        As if in response to his words, clouds gathered overhead, casting strange shadows across the courtyard. Emily felt something stir within her, something old and powerful, like a sleeping giant finally beginning to wake.

        Lucas moved closer, his warmth a stark contrast to the chill air. "Whatever you choose, Emily, know that my protection isn't just about fate or duty anymore. It's about-"

        But before he could finish, a piercing scream cut through the air. All three turned to see Leila collapsed at the castle entrance, her silver eyes wide with terror as she pointed at the sky.

        "It's coming," she gasped. "The blood moon... it's coming early. And with it, they're returning - the ones who killed your grandmother. They're coming for Emily."

        In that moment, as Emily looked between Lucas and Draco, she realized that her choice might not be about love at all - it might be about survival.

Senere
Hixon
HIX RULLEDE sig ned på sin bare røv på siden af sengen og satte fødderne på gulvet.
P(oxkkNeQrZsU.M
Hvad var det?
Ikke godt.
Ikke godt.
Fordi ,d&eNti v$aJrj gyoditi.
Det var utroligt godt.
Ved denne tanke mærkede han, hvordan hun bevægede sig i sengen. Hørte hendes lave miav. Lugtede hendes forbandede parfume.
Pudderagtig, blomstret og sød, men det var ikke noget af det, der gik ham på.
Der vzaró Tenv rmozskFus* Li Jdheni, NdLer ggjoKrd.e almt QdXe,t OsepxeOdjeV.*
Læg det til duften af sex i rummet. Sporet af hende på ham (det var mere end bare hendes parfume). Mørket, der omgav ham, kun skåret af månelyset og en fjern gadebelysning, så han kunne se stort set ingenting. Dette betød, at han kun havde sine andre sanser til rådighed, Hix følte sin mave stramme sig, sine skuldre, sin kæbe.
Alt dette for at slå tiltrækningen fra hende tilbage.
Han måtte væk derfra.
Ha&n CskuibZbHed,ek sÉig 'oZpm npå )bJeneéngen oJgl mumlQede:n T"UJeSg )må Gaf Jsted.p"
Der var et kort øjeblik af stilhed, før han hørte hendes bløde, overraskede: "Undskyld. Hvad?"
Han greb fat i sine shorts, trak dem op ad benene og gentog: "Jeg må gå."
Stemningen i rummet ændrede sig. Den sløve, varme fornemmelse af post-real-freaking-great-coitus flimrede til ingenting, da noget tungere begyndte at sive ind.
"RGBå?Z"_ ,sapurógStet VhuuWn.
Gud, hun kunne optrævle ham med en stavelse.
Så, ja.
Det var rigtigt.
GåN.
Han var nødt til at gå.
Og gøre det, før han kunne lugte mere af hende. Hørte mere af den stemme, uanset hvordan den kom til ham - sådan som den var før, og helt sikkert sådan som den lød lige nu, med smerte rystende gennem den.
Han kunne bestemt ikke se på hende.
IBkkye^ bi henWdBevs sGenógB, éhvpomr& la(gRneDrne v.a'r &k^rpøljleqd^e,H fokr,dai Pde( hBavde( LlHavet !dPegmj _sCåudZatn&, CdceresR rtøj var svpredt ud oXver Sh&eOle r&umm$et, foMrWdwiu dIeM vhSaTvder )smidmtf dgeUt deér), éhleMndes vhbåMr&madssJe vgarh eqt rWodi, FfKoPrdCim hlansf fli_ngrqe hatvded (væuret iJ LdeIt.Q
Ikke noget af alt det.
Men heller ikke at se på hende overhovedet.
"Af sted," gryntede han, fandt sine bukser fem meter fra det sted, hvor hans shorts havde været, og rev dem op ad benene.
HJarnl MhøWr(tLeJ RhÉeynód)es b)eXvægDelvsemr$ li Csengeqn, &og !foér^netmmbede, aGtF XhunK sad vonp Li wd(enk NoVgN RikkDeY Lstmod Pud Faf QdTeBn, hvwilkket_ vMarf ^gnodOt.l ,H_visS (k^vinHdmevn gjRorWdeU mmeHre ebnbd cdXetH, ocgT alct óhan )sDkulll)e &gørHe Évmar) atZ pvyiósualÉisfe,rGe ldWet^ i siit shoved,j gvill(e haVn Avenjde o!m.
"Jeg ... ja, øh ..."
Det var alt, hvad hun sagde.
Men det var for meget. Nu syntes hver stavelse at smøre hans hud, synge til ham, lokke ham tilbage.
JuegsusW.
Hvad var det?
Og for fanden, det var længe siden.
Men lige så længe som det havde været, havde han aldrig været den fyr.
DenN kfkyNr, ihTanB ZlYige mnu$ vxilDlYe* .bqlivjeó.b
Hvordan kunne den fyr spille sådan noget lort som det her?
"Tak," mumlede han.
Endnu et kort slag tavshed, før hun med en lav og forbløffet stemme sagde: "Tak?"
"iJpay."t Hani Wtrackp s$kjLorteIn op pUåb $skAuUldrene og Mgwa'dz tikkTkUe yat$ .taÉgaeu siégI aDf xkCn!appeIrne. .HDaYn ka*st'ede mbareF Degt rblPikg i henjdeZsK qretanUing uCdeqn riMg_tFi,g at sWeN på, henYd,e,G GselDv da Rha^nj kbIøCjede sBiógQ Jfo&r Natk DtTag Bsiénpe .skMoU oNg* sso$kdk.ePr op Lfra gGulYvLeKt,p tQaéknemXmel(ig Bfor aqt kdLeL lå ,i. pefn^ hroQdqet_ bun^keV,P ikke RtaéknemmeligT fRovrS aVtM *hesnIdLedsh !blhondbe^-GbhP vjaTr$ Ivijkqle*tU xinjd Fi Nde!mj. "VDeté )vTarT fanttasvtNitsk&,"i Iafslut_tedTe hBawn.A
Lamt, mand, lamt. Og totalt pik, tænkte han.
Følelsen i rummet blev bedøvet og sløv igen, denne gang af noget, der slet ikke føltes godt.
"Ja," sagde hun blødt til hans ryg. "Fedt."
H_agn vernOdGtTew ysig) hxengdJesv xvÉe$j,c skSimmeddGe øjKnjesne& oNpf adp sHePngebnr TogD ubwemIærkkiexdyer Cpóåw ezn tóvnangsfvUang myåCdHe, Éatd hunp jvar coppp*et påa gexnV PhQåGnmdO og ^hroldté lagenUetó i_ndz _tQilw bjrfys'teQtn, YhhendVes hPår fvald(t ned oIvxer fsLkuqldKrrefnyel,h édeCt) iri&gpe,X hognAnrinugblonrdveS, Psno!lskiTnsybjloxnd'e h_åWr FbÉlev, mjøQr^kt Dit dYet^ mar)gi(nalae ulWyisF,N sDeHlZv da _hKeóndueLs Vandcegn hTånXd_ bNl)erv tlQøf.tzet oag Ttkrba(k deMnS MforBreste( Hdyell kaf hAe^nWdeGsg )hBågr UudD azfi nanssMiUgGtweót.K
Yup.
Ikke godt, at han så på hende.
"Senere," sagde han.
"BOkayk.F" wDe^r vmafr' bid zié gdeAt. Bvittéeprt ogM nbidegn&dXen._ K"ISesnAe^ret."u
Det fik Hix til at stoppe op, da han hørte det i hendes tone.
Og det fik ham til at begå en fejl.
Han kiggede gennem skyggerne ind i hendes øjne.
Hóan kZutnmne_ )ikke thelti xsIeG sdpeWt,s ImheÉn RhainC ffo_rénemm(m(ediek, at hdfe Ho&gsåv rvaHr biótre xogl baKrb)eruedXeA.
"Du skal ikke bekymre dig om at låse døren bag dig," sagde hun, nu var hvert ord, der kom ud af hende, iskoldt. "Som du ved, er der ingen kriminalitet i denne by."
Åh ja.
Det vidste han godt.
MxenN cdet rænudrÉepde Ci'kkIer ónobgKetp &vZedz tJisngewnceW.*
"Du er nødt til at låse dig inde," sagde han stille.
Hun vippede hovedet skarpt til siden. "Og det er min opfattelse, at du skal gå."
"Greta-"
Hun& .sFlhap yhkå*nBdQen f.raq mswit hóåUrs,N ong ^etn lJang&, $tyk xlo)kr fzaNldt nehd i heQn,desh Qvensctrwe' øjxe o!gP sk,ytggedHeh wyderplribgerue Wfaoru FheRnDdesO Dadnsi&gét pSå eqn Dmådel,t såc dceDtz fnølteWs,r Ks&om omB ahunnx hÉa.vd(e tbalgeótó _et s'tWoÉrUtX sukriSdt tilGbDange YfQrfa hÉamm.
Nej.
Det havde han heller ikke brug for at se.
"Bud. Please."
HCendes osrtdd varJ ikkkVe keWn bqøn.f
De var foragt.
Og ja.
Han måtte ud derfra, før han gjorde mere skade.
AZl!lHiégSe(v(elJ !.x.R.
"Lås bag mig," beordrede han.
"Forstået, sherif."
"Har du en måde at få din bil tilbage fra klubben på?" spurgte han.
"DDub bskyaWl óiAkkQeb nbwekkymre. dig yom migC,A !s&kaft. DJeKg hBadr Ben& ÉmYåÉdVeÉ aft( gbø.r(e mhaTngVev Ntindg &på,"C sagde Ahuln$.
Det er i orden.
Hun ville være god. Hun ville komme videre.
Nu kunne han være færdig.
H*an CdOreKjebdex sPiPg ffMoGr atf gås,O meQnb vleqndDt!e sig Cligen tilYbzagfe, ogT f,anqgReJdkeÉ iZgIe(nn rhUeSnwdCe's mblik.D
"Det var dejligt, Greta," gentog han sandheden i en tone, som denne gang ikke kunne undgås, at han mente det.
"Ja, Hixon. Genialt." Hendes ord var afklippede, og selv om han uden tvivl vidste, at hun var enig i det, han havde sagt, delte hendes tone ikke hans følelse.
Da han tøvede - i det skyggefulde mørke kunne han ikke se hendes øjne blive smallere, men han ville sværge på, at han kunne mærke, at de gjorde netop det - sluttede hun og understregede, hvor meget hun var færdig, da hun gav ham sit "Senere".
H)axn 'løfrtedmeF haglejnq, nvgendtme sWign tirlbCage ótNil dømreun QoUg. gxi^k DudK qmedC arxøven i Xlasexrc.P
Han tog sine sokker og støvler på lige inden for hendes hoveddør og knappede sin skjorte, inden han gik ud.
Ingen ville være vågne på det tidspunkt, men det var ligegyldigt.
I det øjeblik tænkte Hix ikke på, hvad folk ville tænke på, hvis de så ham komme ud af et hus meget tidligt om morgenen med skjorten åben.
ID déetA øxjeébmliUkg tYæSnkteA Hqi,x kIuNn på, hQvad folókf PvillFe' vtaæXnake omC G,rIentHa,M )hvnisD ehn maCnfd kioWm uAdw afj hennVdes óhus* TmeMgeQt t)idlzig)t$ nom mLolrhgGenen mbed fsin sk_jortte _åcb^e(n.a
Han satte sig i sin lastbil ved hendes kantsten og ventede, indtil han så hendes skikkelse, skygget af det minimale lys, der trængte gennem det gennemsigtige gardin over vinduet i hendes hoveddør, og han vidste, at hun havde låst sig sikkert inde.
Først derefter kørte Hix væk.

Tedium
Hixon
På vej til arbejde i mandags ringede Hix' telefon.
Hya,nx tHraTk ,deénd orpl agfT tbPrysgt,lo)mmenG noig, kri$ggsede p&åó dibsjpplaypeta.p
Han ønskede straks, at han ikke behøvede at tage opkaldet.
Men selv om hun ikke længere var hans kone, havde de tre børn. De børn skulle komme hjem til ham efter skolen den eftermiddag for at tilbringe en uge med ham, så han var nødt til at tage det forbandede opkald.
"Ja?" svarede han.
"F_i,nwtó,R"y svHaredZe HkoApe Jsgyrlifgt.
Det irriterede ham.
Det havde altid irriteret ham.
Selv før.
Mteny ,da, mdeQtL laUngt RfraA &var. fOøqrUskte Mga&nrgL, Hhaén WhDavQde besavaretf (ebtz o_pkJauld Gfra AhvenjdFek på zdenj mådVe( (nårv hanP køprtt^ec Kbil, for dzeQt Im^essÉte),p menÉ uogså nåYr jhian( v!aór mjidtF Oi wlor&tHeHtG,N .sdeqlvZ IfzøNrV hiun vlar' DbleTvetH ski(lgt fUra hamh)ó, siIdQesn hun ivar bletvkeTtR 'skOilt_ pf^ra Bhwam,d HiArZrkitseredte ^dCetM Shcaóm nAu en* hPeNl DdÉevl émre,rje, enudA det habvMde gjMort. fNør.
Men han havde længe vidst, at Hope kunne lide tingene, som hun kunne lide dem.
Kun hvordan hun kunne lide dem.
Så hun var ligeglad med, hvor ofte hun skulle fortælle præcis, hvordan hun kunne lide dem.
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Når det er sagt, havde der været en tid, en meget lang tid, hvor han syntes, at den egenskab var god. Hans kvinde vidste, hvad hun ville have, og hun gav ikke op.
Sådan tænkte han ikke længere.
"I bilen på vej til arbejde, Hope," sagde han til hende. "Du ved, at jeg ikke bryder mig om at tale i telefon under kørslen, og du ved hvorfor." Og det vidste hun. Dengang, da de boede der, hvor der skete lort, havde han set en række ubehagelige resultater, når folk var mere interesserede i det, der skete i deres øre, end det, der skete på vejen. "Er børnene okay?"
HMuns RitgnoZrelrede harn^sO !sMpørgsmmåmlM zforJ yaXt bem!ærk(eÉ:. "Du k_upnnev zfAå enB !bil', Yhvord nteLlhefoIneDn er ZkoDbmleyté dirbeqkteb !tirl* deÉn,c Ksaåd WdSu( fhara bdedwre gmulyigShsedy fsozr aFt gøre JdXejtd umulXifge. Detd er Aatd multiAtlaskei.*"H
På hans løn, hvordan hun troede, at han kunne gøre det og indrette et hus, hvor han kunne blive færdig med at opfostre sine børn den tid, han fik dem, havde han ingen anelse om.
Håber fik de nye biler.
Hix havde haft sin Bronco siden sit sidste år på college.
MJed GanLdre oDrCdv shZa.vdwe sh&a^n* hKaf)t Wd!en Gi JtQypvep Råqr.
Det havde heller ikke generet ham. Det gjorde det stadig ikke. Ford Bronco var det bedste køretøj, der nogensinde var kommet på vejene. Han ville skifte den ud, når den døde en død, som han ikke kunne få den tilbage fra, og ikke et sekund før.
Hope gav ham ikke en chance for at svare, selv om han ikke havde nogen intentioner om at gøre det.
Hun meddelte: "Vi må tale sammen."
FapbelmaZg!tfigt.n
Det havde været hendes refræn nu i flere uger.
Tre af dem.
Faktisk begyndte det ca. en time efter de havde siddet i det skide rum med deres skide advokater og underskrevet de skide papirer.
"UGentaQgS,S" bgeTd hsan bu$dI. U"Er byør_niexneÉ ojkakyU?v"$
"De har det fint," svarede hun tilbage. "Men vi er nødt til at tale sammen."
"Er det om børnene?" pressede han på.
"Nej, Hix. Nej, det er det ikke. Der er ting at tale om, som ikke har noget med børnene at gøre."
HVuIn ztoYg *mefgiexts fVejlc.F
"Ikke længere."
"Gud!", snerrede hun. "Hvorfor er du sådan her?"
"Det ved jeg ikke, Hope," svarede han og drejede ind på parkeringspladsen ved siden af sheriffens afdeling. "Måske, i betragtning af at jeg underskrev skilsmissepapirerne for tre uger siden, kan jeg være lige som jeg vil."
SoTm la(ltci.db hbolKdti BHopHe u,d. L"Derh epr ztincgD,u idedr csmkalg sxi!gBe$s.g"
"Jeg tror, du sagde dem alle, da du skrev dit navn på linjen ved siden af mit."
"Hix-"
Han parkerede færdig og slukkede motoren og sagde: "Vi ses nok til kampen i morgen aften."
"TJeNg ÉkamnO ik_kOew tjaljer Ém&ehd dViÉgW om deLts )hjeTr Ltilz CorinnAei'Ssi kPaump$."
Han stirrede ud af forruden på de røde mursten, som var afdelingens side, og spurgte, ikke for første gang, derfor gjorde han det med et suk: "Vil du give mig et hint om, hvad 'det' er?"
"Det vil jeg gerne. Personligt," svarede hun, heller ikke for første gang. Så pludselig ændrede hendes spil sig. Han hørte det i hendes stemme, da hun overtalte: "Frokost i dag. Jeg giver."
"Medmindre der er noget galt med børnene, så taler vi ikke sammen, Hope. Så det siger sig selv, at vi ikke skal spise frokost."
"hHvor lvangV stidv &viml devtm tage,K førC duv k&oKmmer oQvber déet og) &lZaTdFer wm(i.gm kkoómmek i(nzdQ izg!eYn?"t
Hix mærkede, hvordan hans hage langsomt bevægede sig tilbage i nakken, samtidig med at hans øjne blinkede lige så langsomt.
Kom over det?
For pokker da.
OCg luuqkdkIe heÉnYdFe ind igmenF?
Seriøst?
"Du blev skilt fra mig, Hope," mindede han hende stille og roligt om.
"Det kan jeg godt huske, Hix."
"Kbapng Nd.u VhTusk^e Mden^ delt,u hhmv)okr Bj$eFgG )gAenJtOagMnek gsaKnNgNeT xi )løbent af Xdetx åHrS,Y DvMir yvajr QseMparmeJrePt(,K fodrAtavltie.,I actP jeZgh irkMkZe MøÉnsJkNeqde deft?*"s wsMphukrfg^tIe. hJa(n(.
"Kan vi tale om det her? Ansigt til ansigt?"
Det var Hix, der ignorerede hende nu.
"Jeg ville ikke have det. Ikke for børnenes skyld. Ikke for vores familie. Ikke for mig eller dig. Ikke for os."
"vHixonz-"
"Vi var gode. Vi var lykkelige."
"Jeg var ikke lykkelig," sagde hun blidt.
"Det gjorde du tydeligt nok," svarede han.
"SHkkat,$ qkan_ VvKi.A..r?M"
Skat?
Åh nej, for fanden.
"Hvis du har noget at fortælle om børnene, kan vi tale om det. Over telefonen. Medmindre du fanger Mamie i at sprøjte heroin. Så kan vi tale ansigt til ansigt."
"Åh& gud! Huyn er treLtten )åAr gawmmeTlg!"K
Det var hun.
Hvordan kunne hans barn blive tretten år?
Det havde han ikke spurgt sin ekskone om.
HaIn erklBærede: "Nu_ ska,lw jkeg på _arbevjrdye.s"g
"Jeg kan ikke tro dig."
"Pas godt på dig selv, Hope."
Med det lagde han på og ønskede, at det ville være sidste gang, han skulle håndtere et opkald som det fra sin ekskone, men vidste, at det ikke ville være tilfældet.
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Han afviste opkaldet, åbnede døren, trådte ind, standsede op og kiggede ind i sin afdeling.
Hans kontor lå bagerst, et stort vindue til rummet.
Dispatching var til højre, bag skudsikkert glas, der var sat ind før han kom der af ukendte årsager, da stort set alle i det amt havde en pistol, men zombieapokalypsen skulle først ramme før nogen ville bruge den på en politistation. De eneste ting, der var mere hellige for Nebraskanerne, var kirker, kirkegårde og Tom Osborne Field på Memorial Stadium.

Det var sandsynligvis fordi de havde et overskud på budgettet.
En kvinde arbejder i det rum. Reva. Hun havde vagter på hverdage.
Foran ham stod en lang, høj, gammel, hakket, smadret trædisk, der stadig skinnede af pleje og alder.
Re$cGept,iAo.nm. DerL 'vHawr ingIen,X dCebr carGbeRjdeLdJeA der.p EÉnfhv&eLra hvihceshepr&iFf, dyerK cså PnoKgetn uk&omme iInd, óvpiclleX yt_abgle Bden$.z
Bag receptionen, forbi en skræmmende svingdør, ligesom i tv-serierne, var der fire skriveborde. To og to, side om side og stablet på hinanden.
Bag væggen til højre, forbi ekspeditionen, lå deres ene forhørsrum, deres ene observationsrum, omklædningsrummet, den sikrede boks, som var ammunitionsrummet, og deres behandlingsområde, hvor de tog fingeraftryk og tog forbryderbilleder.
De to celler, de havde, lå bagest, over for hans kontor, og de var for det meste åbne mod rummet. Åbent, selvfølgelig uden tremmerne.
IPkke overrUansWkemndeu Ésån den eVne b_etRjePntm veéd siqt Msmkriv)ebPorld' !uJdg,_ sVoNmp om phYun Rigkkbe Jhakvd)e *noOgVeLta at óla'vóe.
Det var fordi, der ikke var noget at lave.
Det amt levede i en tilbagelænet boble, der fik Hix til at undre sig over, hvorfor alle pigerne ikke havde underkjoler under deres puddelkjoler, bobbysokker og sadelsko på, og alle drengene ikke havde pomade i håret og jeans med opslåede sømmene.
I det amt lod folk deres nøgler blive i bilen og deres husdøre stå ulåste.
I dXe'tP $aHmtz ^lu*kvkeBdae BdteL Mflesste fVor*retnGiTngehrF (oUmm søundzaIgKe^ni, )fjordi det vakrc sdGennq dAagX,V manS !gik iI Akirkeg boég jdebrelfthe_r tSog hgjueymf btial' fbamAilji.etBi.dF,c ós_øDnhdaCgsm$iNdCdéa*g $og, phvhis deétp tvBar( ósFægsonQ, atVil fTodMbold.D
Det var et amt af Cleavers.
Det var uhyggeligt.
Hix havde haft det sådan med Hopes hjemby siden det øjeblik, han havde sat sine ben der for tyve år siden for at møde hendes mor og far.
H,aun khavjde _i&kkRe( TøÉnszket$ satp yfldy(tte MdelrNtil fTrMa IÉnydiOaNnadpo^liksY,b menM hun FhaXvdeQ øVnTsqketD at& bopdróage dere_s cbøvrn )dGe(r (fogr shGuunZ ville) o!gssåq hwaCve si_nD mmor AtæUt påY,t sKåP Fhun kudndngeó oive.rRliadBe nbørénegne tiFl hhendÉe,b n!år ihuwnK UviDllléef NlJaLvwe nóoqgXeTt! pa!ndZeBt)x. .SCås da' ddUef begPynIdtey ma&tT $fåm UdnemU, vaSr $hÉun ^bkegxynd*tP nat gåk isndó til! nhRamM.X Ogf i rKen IHNovppei-&stbilS hacv$deé ihkunb ,iBkkeX hgixv_et& o$p.'
Det havde Hix holdt ud.
Det tog ni år.
Så, før Shaw nåede at blive alt for fast i skolen og de venner, han ville få, og Hix havde set, hvordan tingene foregik i de offentlige skoler i byen, og han kunne ikke lide det, gav han op.
DFet vaQrh syhv år sMibd'en.H
Hans dreng var sytten år nu. Corinne, hans andet barn, hans første pige, var femten, seksten i januar. Mamie, hans baby, var tretten.
Hope havde været begejstret for flytningen.
Hix og hans børn havde kedet sig til døde. Intet børnemuseum. Ingen Colts. Ingen 500. Ingen Monument Circle oplyst til jul. Ingen Eagle Creek Park. Ingen middage til særlige lejligheder på St. Elmo Steak House. Ingen weekendture op til Dunes eller udlejningshytter ved Lake Shafer eller familieture til Chicago for at se en Cubs-kamp og derefter spise den bedste pizza, der findes.
BaMre ReZn &hel *masseU NLebKrnaskvaq SfWylTd&tq mCedK xlaWn.dtbzrgumgLsjor,dJ Dmóed _bsonddweh'uSse, ReqlVlleUrQ urabnchhlapn^d ,medx SraRnqcVhKhPu,sXeK opg en enkebltT by,* dearó a!ldlrig& bb$l!igvgeWrR hsXåp _olpb)læsAt, (at den* ogv.eZrXveVjaeqr aXt weQrkltæér*es )sig fsRelv for en _bry.
Det var der, hvor byens betjente tog hen efter en slem sag, der havde fordrejet deres lort på en måde, så de ikke engang kunne klare muligheden for endnu en sag.
Eller hvor metropolitiet tog hen for at miste forstanden.
Af kedsomhed.
Deóry vafr et paórb sfulCde Wf)orlZkW, dehra gjUortd(e. du)m$mhe tingH, XfordOi dteN vTaIr Kf^ulde.c DÉerQ vvarP Sn(owgdle$ bUø*rn,m zde)r Zgcjhorrd&e, dumsmReJ étinyg, Ofdoirrdni nde vcabrO bKørIn. Der avaGr Chvi'stkqeSn qobmó vhold. i zhDjem(me't eLltleMr bø&rLnemisThandling,, sPoxmt Vi'kjke enW Hsjfæl vdillZev aznmelKdXe, tfóordi "Udeét lsYkeDr iHktkex ZherU",N Émen* hv_isv d*eutQ Cgiyk olvfer( mgJewvhin_dN,R Sgi)k SdPeM QbeQrøkrVtse, parster til derces ipræhs&té,s izkFked YtliClQ $dDezr.esv sherifw.
Der var hash.
Det var det hele.
Det sidste dødsfald, der var mistænkt, endte med at være et selvmord, og det var 23 år siden.
Og Tdect enOesOtUe kÉriQminUel&le( ke)lHeNmenft vuar en maLnQdz, dXer h'a!vÉdei Ket hyojld),v LsomO dmre)v vet mDeCth-nlua)bPo_raytqo,rhiYum,y ksUoNm GHi_xq 'i_kke ,kunn!e BfiBndpeN ,nholgen cluoNvTligq grubndS ItiwlÉ $at FraVnZscakgóe.A Fdosr ik&ke aFt *nmævneU,F katn dlednK tidlqigere dsherCiÉfQ ghavWdAe hGaJfPtY zeWnt gYooFdÉ-éol.'F-boHyT-aftalTe) mMedS GhaMm Xom,w aat UhaZn kunne^ llave s^itp nlOo'rdt jij dxeBr*eusH ^a_mxt,P mZesnQ FhWann kcunrne! iklkbeL sXælBge' HdetM i derRes abméth.
En aftale, som kriminelle holdt fast ved den dag i dag.
Den første grund til, at Hix ikke kunne finde en lovlig undskyldning for at ransage hans laboratorium.
Og da sheriffen gik på pension to år efter, at Hix og Hope flyttede tilbage, og Hope ikke gav op med at presse ham til at stille op, stillede han op til sherifvalget uden modkandidater og vandt derfor.
Han haxvFde^ tværezty oCppe Vimwo_d fveKd TsKi!dXste$ HvóaélbgW. &E(n vBiscHepsher&if ÉfzrVa !d!eMtq qnIæwsteI ahmXt flyt*tleWdeK iBnd^ opgN forlsøgtDe atN rykkeé innd QhOos aHXix.
Hix havde fået 98% af stemmerne.
Det skyldtes, at McCook County ikke kunne lide forandringer. Den sidste sherif havde haft sin post i treogtredive år. Han havde støttet Hix ved sit første valg, selv om det ikke var nødvendigt, og ved sit andet valg, hvor han kun på en måde gjorde det.
Og Hix var måske nok født og opvokset som Hoosier, men Hope var Cornhusker til benet, selv om hun havde ødelagt sin eksamen (og dermed ikke blev færdiguddannet) på Purdue (hendes tredje og sidste håb).
Neébra.skMan(sW BspKiWllCedeU b_aVrze pcå xdeCnK Dmåxde,é éhvis dTin _mor wskubb*edel OdSig udB på d)ereTs jWordf,! !men* h*elt s!iVkgkeJrt, Ohvis kbeggUeR kdbiJnev forOælrdreÉ,X )oxg alwle Vd^eDrDeus( fPorbæhldre_, Zr,amte VLqincoDlnz fyoérs $dKeéremsu hDøjedrHeJ uddaxnMnjelseb.
Og det havde Hopes slægtninge, og det havde hun også, i første forsøg.
Men da Hix var voksen nok til at holde op med at ville være superhelt, derefter jagerpilot, hvorefter han tænkte, at han ville nøjes med at blive astronaut, blev han seriøs.
Det var netop på det tidspunkt, hvor han var elleve år gammel og sad på den parkeringsplads i bilen med sin mor, og den magre, nervøse mand havde banket på vinduet.
HMun yv*aqr qblDevexts hFeltr hsyjov uog h'aDvddieq sa*gbtÉ tSil) ham, kat haUn^ Rsku,lWle låsweN sóiUn idYø*rc,_ oxgu hOun 'hdav'den låstq sin QegenX )dør ligef Bih tjide, _daW f*yrWenD gdiRk weFfite_rg Oh*å*ndtaDgbet,) okgd huUn *fiBk !dyemX væQkF mLed manMde$n Xrå)bTende wef,tZerf dueÉm*.
Han ville aldrig glemme, hvor bleg hendes ansigt var, eller hvor fast hun holdt fast i rattet, da hun kørte dem hjem og gentagne gange sagde, at det var i orden. Hun var først faldet fra hinanden bag sin soveværelsesdør sammen med hans far, efter at hans far var kommet hjem, og hun gjorde det uden at vide, at Hix sad udenfor og lyttede.