Victoria strapped her silver dagger to her stockings. She had been given a contract earlier on that cold, misty morning that had intrigued her too much to put off. Usually she would attend to contracts with a mercurial approach - highest paying, highest priority. However, every now and then a case came to her attention that she would address on the very same day. These particular contracts had a distinguishing feature; Vic thought she might be able to utilise her 'alternative' monster hunting approach.
The standard approach, common for monster hunters, was of course to exterminate the offending supernatural creature. Generally there was somebody inconvenienced by its appearance; a farmer whose sheep were being taken by a werewolf; a rich family irritated by a common imp or poltergeist. Often a condition of the contract was returning a trophy of the kill; and these paid handsomely. But on other occasions, comparatively few, the patron simply wanted the supernatural presence to disappear. Vic guarded her methods for these situations jealously. The fact was that monsters were very receptive to quid pro quo arrangements. They also had some...appetites in common with humans. It was a secret thrill for Vic that these appetites could be used in her favour.
She gathered up her heavy black coat and turned her gas lamps right down. Vic knew she'd be returning later, cold and weary, and want to relax in the soft light; she never snuffed the lamps for a night contract. Besides, the landlady would be by before long to make sure nothing was burning down.
Vic left her apartment and descended the staircase, the air cooling as she went. Out in the Autumn night, the sounds of London reverberated off the cobbled road. Rumbling wagon wheels, shoed hooves clattering; jeering women leaning out of windows, latticed gables fracturing the glow of the street lights on their faces. Some blocks away, a drunken argument was gaining momentum. Vic's boots did not add to this nocturnal dialogue; the heels were muffled with pasted strips of velvet. Stealth was sometimes warranted for a woman in Vic's line of employment.
She turned off the wide main street down a quiet lane, free of public houses, but not entirely of drunkards. She was obliged to step over more than one intoxicated form between the tall building facades on her way to the far end. Down this lane was the quieter entrance to St Laverne's churchyard. She had agreed to meet the priest back here, as her somewhat unconventional appearance at the main church doors might have attracted unwanted attention. In personal appearance, she looked enough like a middle-class English lady to go about her business, with dark hair done up on her head and fashionably rouged cheekbones; but her leather utility coat, with its many pockets and belts, was certainly unusual evening attire for a woman.
She poked her head over the churchyard sidegate, looking into the small foggy courtyard beyond. The priest, Father William, waited in an alcove in the high stone wall at the Western edge. He was wrapped in a cloak over his clerical clothes, and looking about nervously, his breath rising in steamy columns. Vic unlatched the iron gate and picked her way across the uneven flagstones and ceramic planters towards him. He perceived her approach and nodded somberly.
"Good evening, Ms Standon."
"Father."
Vic pulled into the arched wall cavity next to the young priest, and joined him in surveying the yard.
"No sign as of yet?" she inquired in a low tone.
"No," responded William, pushing tousled hair from his eyes. "Though it hasn't been witnessed before at such an early hour. You know how these things go. It's as if they goad us by turning up at the Witching Hour."
Vic smiled. "I think there's something to that. They especially enjoy irritating priests."
The fog was thickening across the yard. It blanketed the gnarled shrubs that wound between memorial stones, and pushed against ceramic pots containing more respectable vegetation. A cat could be heard whining from somewhere on the far side of the church at their backs.
Vic removed a gleaming silver crucifix from one of her deep pockets, and tied it round her neck pragmatically.
"So what kind of creature are we talking about here?"
William frowned. "The novice who saw it first said it looked like some sort of huge, glutinous ghost. But the gardener, who barely managed to flee into the church and shut the door on it, said it was more akin to a sea creature. He described...something like a squid."
Vic quietly digested this information, keeping her expression neutral. This would certainly be an interesting opportunity for her to try out her special, alternative approach...but would it work?
"I see. So essentially corporeal, not spectral. Well, I have silver, as well as a small pistol..."
The priest nodded his approval. He had some basic knowledge of Vic's methods. Taking up the position of priest here had necessitated his learning about the annoying habit of monsters of all kinds to lurk in particularly sacred places. They had never been brazen enough to actually enter the church itself, but he had called in Vic to dispatch a couple of ghouls in this very yard, on the advice of his predecessor, in the year that he'd been in office. He appreciated Vic's businesslike approach, as well as her discretion - he felt churchgoers were best sheltered from these particular inconveniences.
Together they stood in the alcove, huddling their shoulders against the brisk air. Minutes passed, and it grew slightly warmer, but the fog did not lift. Vic occasionally allowed herself to study William's broad form in her peripheral vision. She waited with an anticipation that she hoped he could not perceive.
A sudden sound caused their two sets of eyes to whip across to the Eastern end of the yard. A stone had dropped from a small set of steps at the foot of an angel-shaped memorial. It clattered to the ground below and rolled to a stop, resting conspicuously on the paving stone. Vic began to sense the presence of her quarry. Beside her, she felt William tense almost imperceptibly. For several slow seconds, nothing could be seen to move among the shadowy planters and statuettes. And then, fleetingly, a snake-like shadow whipped across the stone below the lowest stratum of fog. Vic squinted. Her keen vision revealed to her that the poor gardener had been more or less accurate in his description. The form of the monster could be discerned by someone who knew what she was looking for. Not a werewolf or ghoul this time, but a rarer specimen; a denizen of the dank tunnels beneath the paved streets of this world, seldom seen above ground except for on dark evenings as the weather cooled. At this time of year, something compelled this monster to surface through grates and seek out warm human bodies - something which was hopefully going to work very much in Vic's favour. The hulking form was moving slowly between the stone statuettes on the far side of the yard, obscured in shadow.
Vic glanced over at the priest, who, with lesser vision, had not yet seen the creature, but was frowning stoically in its general direction. His presence was going to complicate things. Usually, her patrons retreated before the quarry showed itself, not wanting to be witness to the unpleasant dispatching they had commissioned. However, William was not showing any signs of leaving.
Vic caught his eye, nodded towards the creature in warning, and raised an eyebrow. William shrugged back at her. Vic suppressed an exasperated sigh. Surely she couldn't manage to carry out her plan with a witness...yet...on the balance of things, he was not likely to tell anyone. He'd never be believed, for a start; but more significantly, she could not imagine the story ever crossing his chaste lips.
She stepped forward slowly and crossed a few feet to the center of the foggy yard. The creature had perceived her; it's brooding silence gave away this much. Vic watched the large mass sit still, feeling its malevolent gaze. She closed her eyes lightly and calmed her mind. She searched her perception for any communication from this primordial creature. Monsters always spoke to someone like her, someone who was capable of listening; and it was on this hallowed frequency that she had been lucky enough, on only a few occasions, to present her offer. And here, facing this type of creature, at this time of year, she was confident in her chances of success.
Finally she hit upon it. A guttural, ancient language was worming its way into her consciousness. As the slinking beast regarded her, it told her what it was seeking. She already knew. It thirsted for the milk of human arousal. This type of monster fed only once a year on the fluid of human sexual climax. This feed sustained it until the next year. It was an obscene creation of whatever cruel deity was in charge of the supernatural scourges of this realm.
Vic concentrated hard on delivering her response. She liked to deal in this way with monsters where possible, she communicated, and so this was a win-win situation. If she provided the creature with what it sought, would it return to the dank middens beneath the city? And the creature's response reverberated through her mind.
Vic's breathing became faster. Perfect. This was going to be a dream come true - it was why she entered this line of work in the first place, back in her young adulthood. When the other young ladies had shared daring folktales of encounters with vicious monsters, shuddering in horror as they described these otherworldly creatures, Vic had concealed her bodily excitement. Her secret quirk had guided her career, and though she had killed many monsters on contracts, she had also, only on a couple of recent occasions, finally managed to enjoy the kind of activity she had dreamed of for so long.
She looked back at the priest standing in the alcove. "I'm going to begin now," she whispered loudly. "It's going to be a bit different to what you're expecting, but it'll leave when I'm finished. Are you sure you want to watch?"
