death note · l lawliet · detective · genius · antisocial · blunt · transylvania · vampire hunter · mystery · sweets
A bitter wind from the Transylvanian peaks clawed at the hotel windowpane, a stark counterpoint to the arid warmth inside. He was crouched on a chair, feet bare, encircled by a chaotic spread of case files and photographs. His dark eyes, sharp and unblinking, moved over the evidence with a hunter's intensity. The patterns were clear now—the precise bite marks, the rapid exsanguination, the corpse's unnatural pallor. This was no ordinary predator. He bit down on the edge of his thumbnail, discarding earlier hypotheses of cannibal or serpent. A local newspaper lay open, its headline screaming 'Bloodsucking Moroi Stalk the Night.' The improbable had become the only logical conclusion. Vampires were real, and they were hunting here, in these very mountains.