Most of the vampires living in Huntingdon are engaged in vineyard and winery operations or related upstream and downstream industries. The church is naturally aware of their existence, but as long as they do not suck human blood, the church also acquiesces to the vampires mixing with humans in the local area.
The compatriot Mr. Bernhardt mentioned is Orland Wilson, a broker who lives in the west of the city and introduces local winery business to out-of-town wine merchants. Mr. Wilson is a three-ring magician, 34 years old, and proficient in winery business.
Divination, but still unmarried.
He was not particularly close to Mr. Bernhardt, but due to business reasons, he would visit Mr. Bernhardt's manor every New Year.
"He went out to visit friends in the New World this spring and accidentally got a rather troublesome relic, which was a dagger. The Pantanal Voodoo Society somehow knew about it and wanted to buy the relic.
, but Wilson didn’t want to sell it to them, so he found me and hoped that I could accept the relic.”
Mr. Bernhardt said that not only was he powerful, but he also had the title of Viscount of Kasenrik. Would Pantanal Voodoo attack a distinguished nobleman like him?
The carriage soon took the two of them to Red Wine Lane, where Mr. Wilson lived, which is also the largest red wine trading center in the east of Huntington City.
Mr. Wilson lives alone at No. 20 Red Wine Lane, which is a three-story building with no attic. Mr. Bernhardt told Schade that Mr. Wilson uses the first floor as his office and the second floor and above as his residence.
.
The two of them got out of the carriage talking and laughing, but after Mr. Bernhardt knocked on the door, no one opened the door after waiting for a long time.
"Could it be that you're not at home?"
Shade said to the vampire seed Lord who was dressed quite decently, wearing a black cashmere coat and holding a cane. The latter frowned slightly:
"Wilson took the initiative to invite me here. We agreed to meet at 10:30 in the morning."
"It's ten thirty-one now."
Shade gave a more precise time:
"Did something happen suddenly and I went out? Let's ask the neighbors."
The two asked the neighbors living on both sides respectively, but none of the neighbors had seen Mr. Wilson today. However, the little boy selling newspapers across from No. 20 told Shade after buying a newspaper that he probably
A man had entered the house half an hour ago, but left quickly.
The boy did not know the owner of the house, so based on his description, Schade and Mr. Bernhardt did not know who had entered and exited the house half an hour ago.
But Mr. Bernhard already felt that he had lost face. He specially invited his friend Shade, whom he had not seen for a long time, to visit here, but he was blocked at the door and could not go in. This made him feel quite embarrassed.
"Hold on."
Standing on the doorstep of No. 20, Mr. Bernhardt pricked his finger with a fine needle, squeezed out a drop of blood and wiped it on the crack of the door. Then, the drop of blood seeped into the inside of the door like a living thing.
"I want to see what he did."
The middle-aged Viscount snorted, then half-closed his eyes, as if he was concentrating on controlling the drop of blood.
Schad then opened the newspaper in his hand to read the local news, but before he finished reading the first page about this year's economic growth announced by the Ministry of Finance of the United Kingdom at the end of the year, Mr. Bernhardt suddenly said:
"Oh, it seems we encountered some accidents."
"What's wrong?"
"To be more precise, Wilson may be dead."
Shade looked at Mr. Bernhardt in surprise:
"Then let's go in and have a look."
He knocked on the door lock, and with a click, the door lock bounced open.
Mr. Bernhardt sighed deeply:
"I didn't expect this to happen in advance, so I won't delay your affairs."
"Of course not. Rather, I happen to want to have further contact with the Pantanal Voodoo Society."
After pushing the door and entering the room, Mr. Bernhardt led Shade directly to the office on the first floor. In that windowless room, blood was splattered all around the walls, and there was a body that Shade had never seen before.
The body of a strange man was lying on the floor. Judging from the amount of bleeding, even a vampire would not survive.
Shade stood at the door and looked around. Mr. Bernhard had already squatted down to check the body, but suddenly stood up again and took several steps back:
"careful!"
Vines dripping with blood grew crazily from the corpse, and in just a few seconds, it submerged the entire corpse like a snake's nest. They crawled towards the two people at the door quickly, and their squirming appearance was indescribable.
Like plants.
"It's the Panatar Voodoo Order, those damn guys!"
Mr. Bernhardt cursed in a disgraceful manner, told Shade to retreat, and then snapped his fingers——
Pa~
The blood splattered all around exploded with a muffled sound like a liquid bomb. The blood with hot waves splashed again touched the vines, and the strange blood-red flame immediately burned:
"Blood Flame. Most of the vines summoned by the ring magicians of the Pantanal Voodoo Society are extremely afraid of fire."
Mr. Bernhardt explained, and after the vines were gradually burned by the bloody flames, he and Shade walked towards the body again.
The vines emerged from the corpse, greatly reducing the integrity of the corpse. Shade did not want to use any adjectives to describe the corpse, as this would greatly affect his appetite and sleep quality.
However, when Shade and Mr. Bernhardt tried to turn the body over, they were stunned for a moment at the same time:
"Um?"
Shade heard the voice in his ears, and Mr. Bernhardt realized something:
"Fake corpse?"
It was Shade who said this first, and Mr. Bernhardt nodded immediately:
"It's indeed fake. It's really amazing. This is the 'bloody fake body' that is a unique thaumaturgy of our race. Except for the same race, few people can see through this kind of substitute body at a glance."
"If he is really proficient in divination, he might actually be able to foresee this threat in advance."
Shade nodded, and in front of Shade, Mr. Bernhardt dipped his finger in the blood without any scruples, and then stuffed his finger into his mouth.
The middle-aged vampire gentleman squinted his eyes slightly, wiped his fingers and stood up:
"Detective, please leave here first. Wilson was indeed attacked. The Pantanal Voodoo Club killed him and took away the relic. But he left me a message in his own blood. He is hiding now
Now, let’s go see him and at least know what happened.”
"OK."
Shade nodded:
"Of course it would be best if this gentleman is not dead, but voodoo can be really cruel."
"How much sense can there be in people who seek power from evil things in subspace? Besides, they are originally a group of natives from the Everglades... I'm not looking down on country people... you understand me
the meaning of."
Herr Bernhard put on his gloves, and Schad asked again:
"Where is Mr. Wilson hiding? Is it far from here? If it is convenient, we can have lunch together. I also brought you wine."
Mr. Bernhardt smiled:
"Not far away, the Bloody Rose Hotel in the city. He is hiding there and is absolutely safe."
The Bloody Rose Hotel is located near the Huntington Railway Station, but it is not on the main road, but hidden in a small alley. After passing the low wall with a wanted poster, passing through the clothes drying in the alley, and then crossing
After the muddy ground, they saw the hotel deep in the alley.
If the "Pink Rose Tavern" that Shade visited in Coldwater Port City was the kind of small inn that you could tell at a glance that it would provide illegal services; then the "Blood Rose Inn" hidden deep in the alleys of Huntington City,
It is an absolutely serious hotel that you can tell at a glance.
The wooden masonry structure does not occupy a large area. There are even chicken pens and pig pens on the side of the first floor. Rude men are making loud noises in the tavern using slang, and the peeling walls show how long the history here is. This era
The dilapidated double-open wooden doors that are no longer common serve as the hotel entrance, and the interior decoration is shabby, as if it has returned to the era of forty or fifty years ago.
Even if this hotel was running at least one illegal business, I'm afraid it wouldn't be this shabby.
But fortunately, the tables, chairs and benches were relatively clean, and the tavern on the first floor of the hotel also provided decent services. The inside of the tavern was filled with the smell of fermented food and alcohol. It was so shabby that there was no gas lamp, but an old hanging kerosene lamp.
Anchors, rusty swords and strange decorations are hung randomly on the walls. This is a hotel in the slums, serving the poor who have no money.
Because he was worried about disturbing Mr. Wilson, who was probably still in a state of panic, Mr. Bernhardt asked Shade to wait on the first floor while he went upstairs alone to find his compatriots living in Room 302.
So with the newspaper under his arm, Shade ordered a glass of rye beer from the old bartender, then sat at a slightly clean table against the wall, unfolded the newspaper under the dim kerosene lamp, and continued to read what he had just finished.
news.
The shade of that kerosene lamp probably needs scrubbing.
Mr. Bernhardt hurriedly walked up the stairs, and the creaking sound made him worried whether the stairs would collapse immediately. Under the landscape painting like abstract graffiti at the corner of the second floor, he and a man with hair
It was so short that you could only see shaggy middle-aged people passing by.
The latter's skin was dark, his eyes were extremely double-folded, and he was also wrapped in an unusual brown old-fashioned robe that was often worn by people in desert areas.
Mr. Bernhard just felt that this man was strange, but he just passed by. The man wrapped in an old brown robe walked towards the first floor with his notebook with slightly rolled corners in his hand.
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