The night was anything but usual. Although the Dressrious Salon was immersed in soft moonlight and leaves rustled in a gentle breeze, a silent tension lay beneath the serene surface. It was midnight. Most guests had left, the gates were closed, and security guards were either wandering the grounds or watching from the guard posts, maintaining a deceptive air of peace.
On the second floor, the robot doorman, Lex, delivered the one-third full bottle of Bordeaux Merlot and a glass to room 213, where Report Man stayed.
“Thank you.” Report Man poured the wine. Once Lex left, he walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows, looked outside through a telescope, then drank. He spoke into his phone: “This is Front Yard Watch Tower. I’m drinking Lady News’s wine, watching the front yard. No suspicious activity.”
“Back Yard Watch Tower reports: Cheers! Everything’s quiet back here,” Lady News replied. She sat in her darkened room, observing the yard through her telescope, a glass of wine resting on the coffee table beside her.
“Well, Monitoring Room reports: everything is okay, but we don’t have wine, just coffee,” Trevor answered on his phone. He, Spion, Ali, and the Salon’s security team captain, Ryan, were gathered in the monitoring room, facing numerous screens that observed every corner of the Salon.
This was the first part of the plan they had devised earlier.
“The person we will deal with is probably a professional criminal, so do not attempt physical contact,” Ryan commanded the team. He was a retired marine, nearly fifty, and still looked boxy under his tight shirt. “My boys are all equipped with tranquilizer guns. If we find any intruder, we’ll try to anesthetize him first. I have a real gun, just in case.” He touched the holster on his belt. “Any questions?”
Lady News raised her hand. “So my job is just to sit and watch? Can I have a tranquilizer gun? I learned shooting.”
“Sorry, we have a limited number of tranquilizer guns, and I think it’s better we handle this,” Ryan said flintily. “Do not make physical contact with the intruder.”
Lady News had been disappointed earlier, but now she was happy to drink wine and surveil the yard simultaneously, feeling like an elegant spy. Just as she was enjoying the exciting moment, her attention sharpened: A shadow crossed the wall and rushed toward a flowerbed. A guard noticed the noise and shone a flashlight. The shadow instantly leaped upon the guard, knocking him down. “Back yard has a situation!” she yelled into the phone.
“We noticed.” Trevor confirmed. As soon as the words left his mouth, two security guards at the door of the Salon building went down.
“All units into the lobby! Guard the stairs!” Ryan barked into his headset from the monitoring room.
Trevor stared at the two screens showing the lobby. The intruder worn a black, full-body covered suit, and looked like a large, powerful man, moving incredibly fast, easily dodging anesthetic darts flying toward him. He quickly took down one guard with a swift strike and threw something to drop the other.
“Agile and skillful. Definitely a professional operative,” Spion stated, his voice tense.
Two more guards arrived in the lobby, fired shots, and missed. The intruder threw a dart, dropping one of them instantly. The remaining guard shot again, but the intruder backflipped, narrowly evading the projectile. As he landed, he quickly hurled a second dart, striking the last guard. Then, the intruder walked swiftly toward the staircase.
“Let’s hope the second part works,” Ali prayed.
“If we fail to stop the intruder in the yards, we can rely on the second part: The Trap,” Ryan had explained in the meeting. “It’s a gift from Manchesters, designed to hold one person—including a witch, ghost, or monster—for ten minutes. That will give us enough time to anesthetize the intruder. It will be set at the stair corner leading to the basement.”
Report Man had raised his hand: “Is it auto-start? What if we step in by mistake?”
“No, I’ll start it,” Ryan had assured them.
Now, Ryan watched the intruder take down his men. He took out the remote control and held it. “You all stay inside,” he told the others, rushing out of the room.
Trevor and the others held their breath, staring at the screens showing the stair corner and the basement. The Trap was a circular device made of four arc parts, set on the ground at the stair corner. Ryan stood at the stair entrance to the basement, waiting.
The intruder rushed up the stairs. The moment he arrived at the corner and stepped into the Trap, Ryan pressed the remote control. A soft blue light screen quickly erected from the arcs, forming an electric fence. The intruder tried to impact the fence but recoiled from a strong electric shock.
“We did it!” Ali celebrated.
Ryan seized the chance and shot an anesthetic dart, hitting the intruder’s right leg.
“Nice try,” the intruder said in a rustling voice, then unplugged the dart. The anesthetic appeared to have no effect.
“What the f—” Ryan was shocked and shot again, but this time, the intruder dodged to the side.
“No more games,” the intruder hissed, standing in the Trap and looking down at Ryan from the stairs. Ryan hurried to reload his anesthetic darts, but he was stunned by something strange. The intruder started howling. A deafening, horrible howl resounded through the area. Ryan immediately dropped the gun and covered his ears.
Trevor and the others in the monitoring room heard it, too, but what terrified them most was that the intruder’s body was changing. The suit tore apart. The face and mouth protruded, fangs grew inside. The palms grew bigger and transformed into sharp claws. He grew taller, stronger, with dark gray hairs sprouting on his arms and cheek. He looked like a wolf. Now they knew: the intruder was a werewolf.
“What now…” Ali was terrified, his face pale.
“We stay in this room,” Spion said, his expression extremely severe.
Trevor was scared, too, gazing fixedly at the screen, clenching his fist. He could hear his heart pounding.
“Guys, what’s the situation now? I heard a noise, like wolf howling,” Report Man’s voice came through Trevor’s phone.
“The intruder is a werewolf,” Trevor replied.
“Oh dear,” Lady News gasped. “Does the Trap work?”
Trevor looked at the screen. The werewolf was impacting the electric fence, still being shocked, but after a few tries, he seemed more tolerant of the current.
“It may not hold longer,” Trevor said.
“Everyone just stay put. Do not come out,” Spion said seriously.
“Hope Ryan can handle it,” Ali whispered anxiously.
Ryan, pointing his real gun at the werewolf, shot. The bullet hit the werewolf’s left leg, which only seemed to make the creature angrier, impacting the fence more violently. Ryan shot again, hitting the werewolf’s right arm. The werewolf howled and delivered a vigorous impact that finally destroyed the Trap.
Ryan shot again, but this time, the werewolf leaped, pouncing on him.
“We need to help him!” Trevor shouted, terrified. Ryan dodged the initial attack, but his right arm was scratched by the werewolf’s claw. His sleeve was stained with blood.
“How? We don’t have anything to deal with a werewolf,” Spion stressed.
“What can deal with a werewolf?” Trevor asked the Spiritpedia app on his phone.
The app answered: “Werewolves fear fire, silver, and cursed oil. You can buy these things at the Manchesters Store. Do you need me to direct you to the Manchesters Store?”
“Useless,” Trevor sighed.
“If we had a witch, that would be better,” Ali said anxiously.
“Is any overnight guest a witch?” Spion asked. Ali shrugged helplessly.
“There is a witch ghost in the Salon,” Trevor remembered what Richard had told him and Spion. “Wieven.”
“But how do we contact her? Richard said she doesn’t want to see us. Do you have a Spirit Box?” Spion asked.
Trevor shook his head; his Spirit Box was at home.
“Who’s Richard? Is there a witch ghost in the Salon?” Ali was thoroughly confused. “But I do have a Spirit Box in my office. It was a gift from Manchesters.”