Moira returned to the opening to the Quinn sewers. She came prepared this time. Fully armed and carrying her lantern, she also wore a scarf over her face, leaving only her single eye exposed.

She frowned as she inspected the entrance to the sewer. The morning rain had erased any sign of the werewolf’s tracks from the previous night. She wasn’t bothered by the loss of prints, they’d served their purpose, and they were far from incriminating. What she needed now was some real evidence as to the beast’s identity—something undeniable to ensure the right person was condemned. While killing the beasts during the hunt was cleaner and helped clear her own conscience, she also felt guilty for stealing the community’s chance at retribution and closure.

Moira made her way into the dark tunnel of the sewer. She drew her pistol and held the lantern out in front of her to illuminate her path. As Moira made her way to her destination, she recited a mental map to herself, her hushed directions echoing back to her from the abyss. She took her time travelling through the tunnels, constantly illuminating each new pathway before moving on. The sound of the running river and of her boots on the stone walkways reverberated through the tunnels as she travelled.

Finally, she reached her objective. She slipped her pistol back underneath her coat and retrieved her small map. Holding it up to the light of her lantern, she tried to find out where she was in relation to the buildings above. Moira was trying to find her way to the tunnel that ran along James Nolan’s house. After a few seconds of visualizing where she was, she was satisfied that she was in the right location and began searching the surrounding walls.

Sliding the small map back inside her coat, she ran her light around her. She wasn’t even sure what to look for.

Giving up on using her eye, Moira decided to use her sense of touch. She set her lantern down nearby and ran her gloved hands along the wall.

Moira cringed as her hands brushed the slick substance that covered the stones. As she moved further down the tunnel, a brick shifted.

She stepped back and studied the wall in front of her. She applied pressure to the brick. It slid forward with a wet, slick sound. Careful not to push the bricks fully outside the other end, Moira pushed two bricks in slightly, allowing her to grasp the sides of the brick in between them. Peering through the hole, she could see that whoever had made the entranceway had removed a few layers of bricks in order to connect what Moira believed to be a basement to the sewer. Moving the bricks back to their original positions, Moira pushed slightly on the wall in front of her. She discovered that the hidden entrance was quite large. About two men could walk through the entrance side by side standing upright.

Moira smirked underneath her scarf. If she was right about her position, it would explain how James got in and out of the city without being seen. Unfortunately, this didn’t prove without a doubt that he was guilty; paths like these were common to smugglers who would use them to move goods between houses or in and out of the town. The path could have been made before James had moved into the house. If she tried to bring this to the guard, James could just deny having any knowledge of the entrance. Not to mention the fact that Kelly could have been hiding underneath the town this whole time!

A wave of paranoia came over Moira as the notion of the missing man stalking her through the tunnels crossed her mind. She decided to keep this information to herself for now. As she stalked out of the sewer, Moira was hit with an intense craving, spurring her to quicken her pace.

When Lincoln walked into The Midnight Hour, Moira was already there. She was sitting at her regular table without her coat, gloves, or her boots. She was engrossed in the large serving of pork in front of her.

Lincoln stopped near the middle of the room. Flynn was right, it didn’t matter what he thought of her as long as he got what he wanted; after that, they would never see each other again. Swallowing his pride, Lincoln turned and approached Moira’s table.

“I’m sorry.”

Moira was in the middle of eating a slice of meat when she stopped chewing, startled by his sudden heartfelt apology. She swallowed before responding. “What for?”

Lincoln sat down in front of her. “I’m sorry about last night. I’m new to all of this werewolf business. And I didn’t understand what you had to do, but I do now.”

Moira nodded, returning to her meal. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Lincoln leaned back in his seat. “So what do we have to do now?”

“First, I have to do some laundry.”

“Then I have to talk with Commander Murphy.”

“I just heard him speak today.”

Moira set her utensils on her plate as her eyebrow peaked. “Really, what did he say?”

“He was saying something about doing whatever he had to do to protect his guards.”

Moira grinned. “Excellent!”

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