Chapter 230 An Unexpected Visit

Uncle and nephew Belleau, the Perots, a wizard, and a prostitute worked together to set up the tent before night fell.

Then they started cooking.

It takes a day to ride to the city on horseback, and it takes more on foot.

For this reason, they bought several sheep from Little Perron before they set off, as well as various other daily necessities. They didn't bring much when they came to Geve, but when they left, it seemed like they were dragging the whole house.

They killed a sheep, and the rest were tied to trees, eating grass with great interest.

By the campfire, Julius said to Barbara with a smile: "I bet those sheep won't last more than three nights. Now Clayton doesn't need an excuse to have a big meal."

The female vampire sighed: "Yes, because poor Ian also needs food, and he may not like to hunt in our way."

In the box next to her was Ian Lazarus-although he had undergone the second blood donation, he was not awake at the moment.

Julius glanced at the box: "Oh, you still have him with you. I thought you would return him to his companions. After all, I mean you don't have any use for him here, right? You just saved his life, didn't you?"

"Then he will definitely commit suicide again." Barbara shook her head firmly: "His life belongs to me now. He owes me a blood debt." When she said blood debt, the word was literal.

Selani looked at them in surprise, her eyes constantly switching between the two people.

These strange words are really scary.

"What Ian? What are you talking about? Is there anyone else here?"

Julius glanced back at her and said lightly: "Nothing, that's the name of a doll. Ms. Barbara takes it with her wherever she goes."

Selani didn't ask any more questions, but she had begun to regret embarking on the journey with this group of weirdos.

Several tents formed a large circle, and they sat in the inner circle around the fire, several pairs of eyes staring at the bubbling soup in the pot, waiting for the moment when Barbara announced that the food was out of the pot.

Clayton looked around quietly, stood up and walked towards the dead tree where the sheep was tied.

"Clayton?"

Donna's voice made people find him again.

Clayton stopped and looked back at them awkwardly.

Julius knew what he was going to do and snorted from his nose.

"What's wrong? What are you going to do?" Pero asked puzzledly.

Clayton almost forgot that although the old man had a certain understanding of their identities, they had not yet completely disclosed their identities to him, and at this moment there was someone who really knew nothing next to him.

"Sacrifice of the living."

Clayton cleared his throat: "Our journey back to the city is long, and there may be accidents in the middle, so I hope to make a sacrifice to the gods in the forest, and this sheep is the sacrifice."

His words sounded like some kind of superstition, but this situation is not uncommon.

Some ocean-going ships would also buy livestock and keep them in the cabin before sailing. If they were unfortunate enough to encounter a storm, they would lead the livestock out of the cabin and throw them into the sea, trying to appease the gods living in the violent ocean in this way.

Although the White Church has always claimed that this behavior is heresy, it has never really banned it.

So this explanation can convince the public, and mortals accept it.

Except Donna.

"I'll go with you." She got up happily, as if she didn't realize that she had done something unnecessary.

Clayton didn't say anything, and reluctantly let her follow.

Barbara looked at them enviously, and then lowered her head to take care of the pot.

Leaving this light source, Clayton walked deep into the woods with a gloomy face and led the sheep, and Donna trotted behind him.

"Are you going to become a werewolf?"

Clayton didn't even turn his head: "I can eat it without becoming a werewolf."

"But that will stain my clothes."

Donna was waiting for this moment. She couldn't wait to see the specific form of the werewolf. Last time she only saw a claw.

There were certainly illustrations of such monsters in Brakora's books, but it was unclear whether the creators of those illustrations - some short-sighted clerks hundreds of years ago, who might have just relied on other people's descriptions and rushed out their works in a lazy afternoon - could be trusted.

In the corner of the page that contained the werewolf in her memory, there was also an image of a rabbit in armor fighting with others. She still didn't understand whether it really existed or was just an ancient clerk's casual creation because of his mood.

In reality, her uncle just turned back and glared at her, but did not transform.

Of course, Clayton didn't want to do this. He was not ashamed of being a werewolf, but he didn't like being visited like a rare animal in a zoo.

So he just walked quietly to a certain distance, picked up the sheep and put it to his mouth to suck blood. He already had fangs in his human form.

Donna was not disappointed at all. She still observed his eating method with great interest.

The angry lieutenant had his own way. After sucking all the blood from the sheep, he peeled off its skin with his sharp black nails and used it as a tablecloth. Then he cleaned its limbs, muscles and internal organs one by one. During the eating process, not a drop of blood or a grain of meat fell on the grass outside the sheepskin.

It was a strange feeling to be observed eating raw meat and drinking blood. After finishing this meal, he wiped his mouth with the clean part of the sheepskin, then wrapped the remaining bones and threw them on the tree to give to the birds returning late.

"Are you satisfied?" He turned around and asked Donna.

The girl looked at the skin in awe and nodded heavily.

"So elegant."

She may not be so quiet when eating by herself.

"Then go back, I want to eat something more, otherwise Miss Seranie may get suspicious."

Donna followed Clayton again: "Even if she knew, she wouldn't be able to tell us, why not tell her the truth? I mean, we helped her, she should appreciate it. And we have to get along for a long time, if If you keep acting like this, it will be very difficult to hide it from her. "

"Then try to do this hard thing."

Clayton did not waver: "I didn't let Miss Charlotte know about this. She has always been my assistant at work. If you think that I may arouse Miss Selanne's suspicion, then you should help I try to achieve that instead of trying to stop me."

Donna was convinced: "That's right. If you insist on doing this, of course I will help you, but you still have to restrain yourself."

Clayton pointed at himself in surprise.

"Me? Why should you restrain yourself?"

"If you don't know yet" Donna took a deep breath: "The black pointed nails, the glowing eyes, the smell of fur on the body - in short, you can understand this word, the rapidly growing hair and beard, the unusual height, By the way, your ears are a bit pointy too.”

Creighton had to ask her to pause: "There are ways to explain this, or avoid her discovery."

He brought perfume, as well as a razor and atropine, a drug on the market for dilating pupils, which he could use as an excuse to explain the peculiarity of the eyes.

Donna pursed her lips: "Okay, then there's only one last question - you turn your head very frequently. I guess you caught the sound that we can't hear, so you tried to turn your head to see. This is fine during the day. , but at night, when it's so quiet, others will quickly realize that the sounds you hear are things they can't hear. Look, you're doing it again! "

Clayton ignored her. He raised a hand to signal her to be quiet, his bright yellow eyes staring in one direction.

Donna followed his line of sight and looked over, but what caught her eye was the overlapping deciduous trees, which stood in silence like mummies.

"We can talk about this later, girl, someone is here now."

A carriage pulled by four horses appeared from the dark end of the road. Its dark appearance and dim light made it look like it was driving out of the underworld, while the shadows of the forest seemed like countless tentacles were trying to drag it back.

Clayton squinted at its distant shadow to make sure he saw the right person.

The driver was Winston Jean Stewart, a fallen nobleman who was also his comrade-in-arms. This man waved the reins mercilessly and drove the horses at full speed. This method was very immature in the eyes of an old cavalryman. The way horses are driven can easily tire them out - which are worth more than people.

Why is he back? Where did this carriage come from?

Creighton was full of doubts. He stretched out his hand to signal the carriage to stop as it approached.

With a more violent urging, the carriage slowly stopped in front of him. The driver tried to turn over, but failed and fell sideways and fell into the soil.

"I thought you were gone."

Clayton stretched out his hand to pull Winston up. Under close observation, he saw that this guy's face was ashen and his eyes were bloodshot, as if he had not rested well all the way. When he looked at him, Winston's body stiffened for a moment, and he saw this unnatural reaction.

"I left, but something happened on the way and I had to come back." Winston's voice was weak, but there were no injuries on his body.

It seemed that he was simply tired.

Clayton did not continue to ask. He turned his head and looked at the closed carriage. In addition to the smell of ink, there was also a very familiar smell. There were two bullet holes on the side of the carriage, and a small sign posted on the outside. The carriage is the property of the Post Office.

Winston had fought with people before coming here?

Clayton's eyes flashed across the coachman's seat, where there was also a Vanney rifle underneath.

He had previously suspected that the postman had met with people from the Salvation Army, and now it seemed that was indeed the case, but he didn't know what role Winston played in this conflict.

"I know that the members of the Presbyterian Church have special abilities. I implore you to save the people in this carriage." Winston slowly lowered his head in front of him.

"Marie Etta? Is she hurt?"

The smell in the carriage undoubtedly belonged to Marietta, who was the only female magistrate in Sasha City before Barbara. She was also the clerk of the post office. She was responsible for writing letters to illiterate people. She once investigated him because of some misunderstandings. , but later became a peripheral member of the Presbyterian Church. He didn't know that she actually had a job traveling far away. It seemed that it was given to her by the post office.

This is obviously not a good job. The distance from the city to Gevo is actually not too far, but the road conditions here have never been repaired, so the time spent on the journey is wasted.

"You know what's in there. Do you know her?" Winston couldn't help but ask.

"We are all peace officers."

Hearing Clayton's answer, Winston seemed to think of something and moved his lips, but did not say it.

Before he could react, Clayton took Donna and quickly walked to the back of the freight car and opened the door. Sure enough, lying on the pile of newspapers in the carriage was a woman with short brown hair, wearing an ordinary dress, and blood dripped from her clothes. The inside seeped out and smeared on the inner wall of the carriage, while also staining the newspaper underneath him red.

Winston came up behind them.

No matter how many times he saw that lifeless body, Winston would always feel cold and terrified.

Chased by monsters, he abandoned Fukudai and later found temporary refuge due to a woman he met by chance.

The Salvation Army men wanted to kill him too, and they fought to the death to win, but the woman was accidentally shot. He knew that he could certainly take advantage of the lady's serious injury to seize the carriage and supplies and return to the city, just like abandoning Fudai, but the situation then was not exactly the same as this time.

He couldn't abandon a person who truly fought alongside him.

The woman trusted him in battle, and without that, they would not have been victorious. She is his true comrade.

Ignoring Winston's delayed information, Clayton just leaned into the car to take a look before exiting, sighing with regret.

Marietta is a strong woman, and the wounds that can make her incapacitated cannot be solved by simple bandaging. They require professional doctors.

"Donna, is there anything you can do to stabilize her? We're sending her to see Julius now, but the sooner her injuries can be taken care of, the better."

"I'll try." Donna got into the car and tried to use her occult methods to accomplish this.

Clayton climbed into the driver's seat and motioned for Winston to come up.

When everyone was where they should be, he shouted and urged the four horses to move reluctantly.

"Where are those people from the Salvation Army? They held you back for so long?"

"They're all dead." Winston folded his arms and squeezed into a corner of the seat, looking uneasily at the forest on both sides of the avenue, as if someone would rush out from behind. "But their weapons were able to completely suppress us. It took us a long time to win. But it didn't take more than half a day. The main thing was the road conditions in this area, which I still have to take care of."

He didn't say any more, because there were so many excuses, and it seemed like he was shirking responsibility.

Clayton looked forward without blinking, his tone sarcastic.

"You don't think about the consequences before doing things for them, do you?"

"They know who I am and you know I'm not that popular right now."

"Then why didn't you come over to find me?" The werewolf glanced at him coldly. "If you could have asked me to vouch for you as the Sheriff earlier, things wouldn't be so complicated. Now the locals and I have to put an end to the bad situation you created."

If Winston hadn't given the Salvation Army the opportunity to kidnap Schmidt, they wouldn't have been able to stay in Gévaux for a long time, and naturally there would be no need to send people to attack the postman.

It can be said that Marietta was attacked entirely because of his involvement.

Winston didn't expect him to say that, and he suddenly looked a little embarrassed.

"I thought you wouldn't agree."

"Very good, you think..." Clayton snorted coldly and stopped continuing the topic.