CHAPTER THREE
THE MAN BEHIND THE HOOD

"What's going on?" I asked, my eyes fixed on the book in front of the man.

"I don't have time to explain everything to you," Abraham snapped, his voice sharp and impatient. His tone irritated me.

"Hey, I didn't ask to be brought here. You could've left me for dead. I think I have a right to know what's going on," I shot back, my voice tightening in anger.

Fet glanced at me, his expression serious. "You know about the creatures, right?"

I nodded, trying to steady my breath. "Yeah, I saw one of the first," I said, my voice faltering as I fought to keep my emotions in check. A lump formed in my throat, but I swallowed it down.

"They're controlled by a more powerful being," Fet continued, his gaze never leaving mine. "A creature known only as the Master."

I walked over to the book, drawn to its intricate artwork. "This has to be at least 15th-century artwork," I murmured, running my fingers lightly over the delicate pages.

Abraham's voice came from behind me, tinged with something like admiration. "An artist in our midst."

I looked up, meeting his eyes. "So, the Master has to be, what... five or six hundred years old?" I asked, a feeling of dread creeping up my spine.

Fet nodded grimly. "The only way to end this plague... is to end him."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Anger surged through me. This Master—he was the one who created those monsters, those abominations that had taken my friends from me. The rage boiled up, nearly choking me. "And how do we kill him?" I demanded, my voice harsh.

"We're hoping this book will tell us the answer," Abraham said, his fingers gently brushing the cover. From the way he looked at the book, handling it with such care, I could tell that killing the Master meant more to him than just saving New York.

"He killed something you loved, didn't he?" I asked, meeting his gaze. His eyes were the same as mine—the same haunted look I saw in the mirror every day when I thought of my lost friends.

Abraham didn't respond right away. His gaze flickered, but he quickly masked it. "It doesn't matter," he said, his voice cold, though his words betrayed something deeper.

Before I could press him further, Fet walked back into the room, tossing a towel and some clothes at me. "Here you go," he said, his tone nonchalant.

"What are these for?" I asked, confused.

Fet raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. "I know we're in the middle of an apocalypse, kid, but you stink."

I shot him a look, eyebrows raised. "So would you if you'd been hiding out in an art studio for months without a bathroom."

Fet didn't seem bothered by my sarcasm. "Come with me," he said, turning and walking away. I followed him down a narrow corridor before he stopped in front of a large brown door. He pushed it open, revealing a small bathroom. "There's a shower in there. Don't worry, it's warm," he added with a smile, before turning to leave.

I stepped inside, my eyes scanning the room as I paced around, rifling through the drawers. They were almost empty, save for a few stray items. But then, I spotted something—a cloak hanging from a hook on the door. It was his. The man who had saved me that night in the alley. But where was he now? Was he here, or was he avoiding me? These questions churned in my mind as I stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

I placed the clothes on the floor—jeans, underwear, and socks—but there was no shirt. Sighing, I stepped back into the room, searching through the drawers until I found a dark blue shirt that caught my eye. My own shirt was covered in blood and reeked from months of neglect, so I was grateful for the replacement.

Finally, I stepped into the warm shower. The hot water hit my skin, and I sighed in relief. It felt like nothing I'd experienced in months. It was the one thing I'd missed more than anything.

After washing my hair and body I placed my hair up into a messy bun, placing a towel around my waist before walking out of the bathroom as I did I jumped in shock for a moment until I smiled it was the man that saved me that night

"I'm so sorry" I said tightening the towel around my waist,

as it was the only thing covering my body. He had already seen me half dressed that night but he was still a stranger to me. I hardly knew Fet only meeting him an hour ago but he gave me no warning that this was his room, I was going to kill him next time I saw him.

"Hi," I said nervously, my gaze fixed on him, fascinated by his presence.

"Hello, Ellie," he replied, his eyes locking onto mine. I was taken aback, unsure how he knew my name.

"How do you know my name?" I asked, my voice tinged with confusion.

"I went through your pockets," he said, a bluntness in his tone that immediately set me on edge. My mistrust of him deepened.

He pulled something from his pocket—a knife—and held it up. "I found this while I was at it. How did you come by this?" he asked, his eyes scanning the blade.

I stared at it, my heart skipping a beat. "My grandfather gave it to me. He was a soldier during World War II."

"He gave it to you when you turned eighteen... to protect yourself," he said, his tone softening slightly. But then his eyes narrowed as he examined the knife more closely.

I looked too, noticing the markings etched into the steel. They were strikingly similar to the symbol of the Lumen. I felt a chill creep down my spine as I reached out and took the knife from his hands.

"I think your grandfather was a Strigoi hunter," he said, his voice full of intrigue. He met my gaze, his eyes intense. "I'll leave you to get changed," he added, before turning and walking out of the room.

End Of Chapter Three