The white-haired stranger

The blood coven. This was strange, they'd been around longer than any coven he'd encountered. How?

These pictures dated back to the 1900s. August frowned as he continued to flip through. Witches lived long, almost as long as hybrids; if they wanted to, that is.

There were no good witches. If the blood coven was at the Coastlines, the people there had terrible luck.

He took a bite of a replica of his 'save' as he pushed the file down and picked the next one.

"Is it good?" A shaky voice asked.

August continued chewing as he turned to the nervous maid. She had a serving tray clutched to her chest and her feet kept tapping the floor.

"This..." He began, "it's not quite right." He pushed the saucer away to join the others.

Her shoulders slumped, "should I try again?"

"No! No, please no.." August opened the file, "you've already ruined my palette, Irene"

"Return the first one. Find out where it was made," August said.

Scorpion Inc. Mr Whyte. This file had more black lines than his.

"Jeffery, what I'm I looking at?" He asked over the telephone.

"Mr Whyte's file?" The old man asked.

"Yes,"

"You gave me two hours to find all I could on a man that eluded Gregory for years," he sounded aggrieved, he muttered, "you're lucky I found a name,"

August sighed. "How could a human elude Gregory?" Gregory was a hound, literally, he could find anything.

"Well, I supposed it's less he eluded him, and more Gregory never had time for him. He never physically attacked Gregory though,"

"So, why attack me?"

"I'm not sure,"

Did someone think he was easier prey?

There weren't many legal businesses on this file; this 'Mr Whyte' had his hand in everything, yet he'd never been caught. Human authorities were sloppy.

August shook his head, the Coastlines. He needed to focus on that: Vivian was a pain when she wanted to be.

"Keep an eye on miss Richardson for me." He didn't want to lose her in the chaos of his work.

"The police are asking to speak with you," Jeffery said, "I informed them you'll speak after you're healed."

August hummed a reply as he cut the telephone.

___

Kelly stayed in a daze when she left the mortuary. She cleaned the tears from her eyes; details were set for the funeral. Her mother's funeral.

She sighed, crossing the street. Her thoughts reeling; someone paid for the funeral. The receptionist couldn't tell who.

She didn't have anyone else; Nani died ten years ago; it'd been her and mom. Kelly sighed as she turned a corner, who paid?

"This doesn't seem fair, does it?" A voice came out the alley.

"Fair?! After what you did?!"

Kelly paused, what was going on?

"I broke a toy. Is it that bad?" The guy at the center of the circling group spoke. The only thing she saw was his white hair. He was tall.

The distinct ching of metal made her frown. The others in the outer circle pulled out knives.

This looked bad. It wasn't her problem, right? Right?!

"911!" She yelled, internally hitting herself as she gained their attention. She flashed her phone, 911 on the caller ID.

"I don't know what's going on here, but there are better ways to handle a problem." She said.

The crowds parted slightly and she caught the eyes of the person at the center...gold.

"You know what? That sounds like a great idea!" One of the guys spoke, turning to the others.

Wait, what? It was?

"Or maybe not," the white-haired stranger spoke, "I made a mistake, let's call it even,"

"Even?! You piece of..."

It went down hill from there. Kelly stayed far from violence but the scene pulled her unwitting attention until she doubled over and vomited.

The sight of the face he'd repeatedly smashed into the wall played in her mind before switching to her mother's body. She tried hard but couldn't break her thoughts free.

Who was this guy?! He soon stood over her, his hands dripping blood, as he bore a confused frown; before he walked passed.

Kelly told herself repeatedly to look away. One glance and she felt her lunch rush up.

The blood, deep gashes; she was certain joints didn't twist that way.

"Here," came a voice over her. He had a bottle stretched, his face placid.

Kelly took it and poured a bit on the ground before taking a sip.

She mumured thanks and stayed hunched over trying to gather her bearings.

Kelly jerked back when his face came under hers.

"What are you?" He asked.

"What?"

He frowned, "you don't smell normal,"

"Thanks?" What the heck was that supposed to mean? She couldn't even get pissed, the bodies strewn around was motivation enough.

"Here," Kelly handed him the bottle

He raised a brow at her,

"Your hands... they're bleeding," she said.

He smiled, "you're not scared," scared? She didn't have the mental energy for that.

"You offered me a bottle of water. I don't think you want to hurt me, unless you're a sociopath," was he a sociopath? That would be bad.

"What are you doing?!" His voice thundered.

What?! What did she do? His eyes were trained on her phone. Oh!

"They need an ambulance," she argued as she proceeded to make the 911 call she threatened earlier.

He gave her a strange look, "You're very calm about this, why?"

Kelly shrugged. "I don't know, okay?" She said, "I feel very numb right now, and I just wanna go home. But, mom wouldn't leave them..."

"Mom?"

Kelly sighed. "Nevermind,"

She informed the emergency dispatcher and told she wouldn't be able to wait for their arrival.

As Kelly picked her things, she prayed he wouldn't follow her, she'd just watched this man pummel over a dozen men in ways that shouldn't be physically possible, she didn't want him anywhere near.

He stayed put, though she didn't feel any safer with his strange eyes trained on her every step.