A ghost once told me in Chicago, 'people adore monsters.'

She was right. All the best stories had always had monsters, in which we define us in relation to them. Darth Vader to Luke Skywalker. Grendel to Beowulf. Dr. Helsing to Count Dracula. Monsters shape the world. Monsters force us to become stronger, smarter, better. They sift the weak from the strong and make us discover reservoirs of strength to defy them. Even as we curse monsters, we admire them as we would a tiger on the hunt, the sleekness of its body or the beauty of its pelt and eyes as it comes for us. We even seek to become them, in some ways. There were far, far worse things than to be a monster in the world.

Offhand, I couldn't think of them as I walked down the street. Jason had been unusually quiet for some time. I didn't dare hope he had returned to Crystal Lake, not without proof. And aside from that, people vanished in this city every, single day. Monsters need not apply, though the proof was everywhere for those who searched. I suppose what really got me was the silence. The streets still had their beat and people wandered to and fro before me, like leafs in the wind but overall from my perspective, an eerie quiet was descending. Akela's pack had retreated from Central Park, presumably to go arm for war. The Troll Market gossip had been fleeting, whispers of the Nevernever responding to the unrest. Jason of course, had gone quiet and overall...There was still the original murders I was seeking out that was at large. There had to be something- Heartland had proven obstinate and our last meeting had me believe that it wasn't such a good idea to rely on his network.

So I went to the next best thing for what I sought, and striding into the near empty place I swallowed and looked at the lone occupant at his table. Though I dealt often with Heartland, and on occasion traded words with Snow? I made it a rule to avoid the Hatchet Man of the Triad. The last time we met, he tried to kill me and I helped a kid he was after to safety.

He tends to remember stuff like that. A single candle was all that illuminated the place today as I stepped inside, shadows behind me rising up like curtains to block the rest. I sat down opposite and for a moment, we looked at each other.

Jackie Estacado. Freeholding Lord, Criminal Baron though mostly retired from the scene from what I hear and host to one of the most primal forces in the known magical world. He was a good looking man, even now. His Italian features bespoke of darker passions and the knife scar along his throat spoke of moments they were unleashed. At the corner of my eyes, I could see something slither in the dark, feeling like I was underwater as something moved in the gloom. Jackies eyes were glowing yellow, and he leaned back in his seat as he spoke, his voice rough with old pain and appetite.

"I can smell your fear. You afraid of me, Father?"

"Yes." He paused at my frank words, somewhat intrigued now.

"I know who you are. What you are. Fear is a natural response, but it is not why I'm here."

"And yet, you are. In a place where no one can help you, when you know I've a score to settle on my account. I always pay my dues."

"Yes." Jackie considered this, before grinning as he chuckled and leaned forward to look me in the eye. Tendrils of darkness, like smoke and shadow made sickly flesh rose from his back like a Hydra awakening as his monstrosities hissed and surrounded the table. The candle flickered between us, like a sentry against the darkness. Jackie grinned wider.

"You think you're a big man, coming in here because of one, little candle? Without light, where is your courage?"

I leaned over, looking him in the eye.

And blew the candle out.

Darkness reigned and for a minute, I thought I had miscalculated. And then came a sound all to rare I suspect in that place and from that man.

Jackie was laughing.

The candle was relit and he leaned back in his seat.

"You made your point tough guy. Now talk to me." I let out an inner sigh of relief and took from a pocket, an old shotgun shell of a very special make as I placed it between us.

I had always tried to stare into the abyss in my line of work.

Times like this, made me wonder if it had always been waving back.