LUCAS
If there's a button in the snow, there's a reason for it.
But there's still no hint of oncoming attack, leaving us all on edge. Is this another sick prank of the vampires? Lead us on a merry chase with nothing at the end, time and time again, until we become complacent and lazy?
Months of chasing empty leads has proven we won't fall for that tactic.
Fall back. I send out the command just as the air shimmers in front of me and a young girl falls about five feet to the ground with a curse.
"Dammit, they can at least calculate the coordinates properly," she mutters, pushing herself to stand.
She's a tiny thing, with short purple hair, wearing black jeans, a tight black shirt, and a lot of chains. There's one from her belt loop into her pocket, another from her shoulder to her belt, one from her wrist to her elbow—it's a strange aesthetic.
