Lake Waldron

The following takes place following: The Verdict

Amid the chaos of the vampire takeover of Widdlington, Travers and Master Devlin flee the city to escape a looming civil suit. Seeking refuge, they retreat to the countryside and spend a restful night at Devlin Manor. The next morning, Travers suggests a visit to the idyllic lakeside town of Waldron. Master Devlin flies them there, where they notice emergency services at the water’s edge, pulling something from the lake. Unsettled but curious, Travers proposes stopping at The Double W, a retro 1950s-style diner that is a new addition since their last visit.

They stop at the door before going in.

Master Devlin: "Now Travers, I don’t want any trouble. Be on your best behavior... In fact, maybe it would be best if you let me do the talking."

They head inside. Rock and roll plays on the jukebox as locals glance their way. Taking a seat at the counter, the cheerful waitress greets them.

Waitress: “Hi there, I'm Wendy, and welcome to the Double W Diner! Are you new in town?”

Master Devlin (studying the menu): “Sort of. We’d like some food, please, but we don’t have permits. Is that a problem?”

Wendy: “Not at all! That was the old place. We are much more welcoming of visitors here! I recommend the cherry pie and coffee.”

Master Devlin: “Very good. I'll have that.”

Travers: “I’ll have pancakes and a Coke, please...”

As they settle in, two men in a booth nearby take note.

Man 1: “You, uh... A couple of city boys down here on vacation?”

Master Devlin: “Something like that.”

Man 2: “Widdlington?”

Master Devlin: “That’s right.”

Wendy: “Oh, I’d love to visit Widdlington someday.”

Travers winces but says nothing.

An old man at the counter snorts into his coffee.

Old Man: “Widdlington... what a shithole.”

Man 1: “Now, Bill, don’t start. These boys didn’t come here to be insulted. And for your information, Widdlington’s my hometown—born and raised. It's a beautiful city!”

Bill: “It ain’t a Waldonian city no more. It's a fallen city... Taken over by them Ed damn vampires!”

Man 2: “For Ed’s sake, Bill, spare us another lecture.”

Bill stands up and points his finger aggressively at the men.

Bill: “You should show me some Ed damn respect! I fought for this country! I saw my buddies get torn up on that beach... And for what?? So a bunch of bloodsuckers can just waltz in and take over our cities? Is that what it was all for??”

The two men sit quietly, waiting for Bill to settle down. Travers is quietly nodding along, but no one notices.

Bill: “People like you... Make me sick... And mark my words, it won’t be long before the same happens here. You'll see!”

He turns, downs his coffee, and storms out. The waitress, embarrassed, leans in.

Wendy: “Sorry about Bill. He’s not so bad, just a bit grouchy...”

Travers: "Maybe you should listen to him. Could learn something..."

Wendy: “I don't know... I mean, he's kinda racist. It's just an old-timer thing, though, I think. He doesn't know any better.”

Travers: "You get many vampires around here?”

Wendy: "Oh no, not yet. But we’re a welcoming town! It’d be nice to have some diversity—”

She breaks off abruptly as the sheriff strides in, his expression grim.

The sheriff sits down near Master Devlin and Travers. Wendy asks if he'd like a coffee, and he solemnly accepts.

Man 1: "What’s the matter, Sheriff? What’s all the hubbub?"

Sheriff: "Fished another body out of the lake... It’s Pat Davis’ boy... Joe. I just spoke to his father."

Wendy gasps, spilling her coffee.

Man 2: "Good Ed... Another boating accident?"

Sheriff: "Twenty-two years old... All torn up... We might have to close the beach."

Man 1: "The mayor won’t like that with the wild swimming festival coming up..."

Sheriff: "She’s going to have to not like it. Something’s in that lake, and I'm not taking any more chances."

A gruff fisherman with a Cajun accent speaks up.

Fisherman: "Probably Ol' Francois... Come back from the dead..."

Wendy: "Who's Old Francois?"

Fisherman: "Big ol' catfish from around here, cher. 9-foot long, 600 lbs, 100% Cajun catfish... Used to eat folks... 'Specially little goblins like this here city boy fella. That is until my grandpapi blew him up with dynamite in '79... Some folks say he comes back every 15 years to claim more prey..."

Sheriff: "Give it a rest, Jacques... No more ghost stories... Not today. We're gonna have to get some expert down here... Figure out what's doing this..."

Travers, unable to resist a good story, speaks up.

Travers: "Excuse me, Sheriff... My name’s Travers, and this is Master Devlin. We're from the city. Master Devlin works for the Masters Council and is quite knowledgeable about these types of things. Perhaps we can be of some assistance?"

Sheriff: "Master's Council, huh? I’ve heard of that... You deal with... weird cases, right?"

Master Devlin: "Yes... I have dealt with my fair share of weird."

Sheriff: "Hmm... Well then, perhaps you could do me a favour and take a look at the body we’ve got in the morgue?"

Although initially reluctant to get involved, Master Devlin felt his professional curiosity stir.

Master Devlin: "Very well, Sheriff."

Sheriff: "Thanks. Appreciate it."

Master Devlin: "Do a lot of people boat on the lake?"

Sheriff: "You bet they do. And swim too. Even this time of year, it's pretty popular... Like Mike was saying, the lake brings the tourists, and the mayor won’t be happy with me putting a stop to swimming, but I don’t think I have much choice. Something’s out there..."

****

After lunch, the sheriff takes Master Devlin and Travers to the coroner’s office, where the body of Joe Davis lies on a cold metal table. The room is thick with antiseptic and the faint scent of blood. The sheriff and Travers step back, leaving the master to examine the remains. Master Devlin moves toward the body, his face hardening as he inspects the mangled injuries. He activates the recording function on his phone, his tone clinical as he begins the examination.

Master Devlin: "Joseph Davis, 22-year-old Caucasian male. Suspected COD: boating accident... The abdomen has been torn open with significant tissue loss, leaving intestines exposed. The left leg is missing below the knee, the jagged edges indicating a powerful bite..."

Behind him, Travers casually pulls out his cigar and strikes a match.

Master Devlin: "Do not smoke in here, Travers. Thank you."

He returns to the body.

Master Devlin: "The right arm has been severed above the elbow, with extensive tissue damage to the surrounding musculature… Sheriff, do you see the sustained, jagged, tear-like wounds? Hmph. No, this was no accident… This was a deliberate attack..."

Sheriff: “You’re not going to tell me this really was a giant catfish, are you?”

Master Devlin: “No. Based on the injuries, I would attribute it to the non-frenzied feeding behavior of a large elasmobranch… Given that the lake is freshwater, most likely Carcharhinus leucas..."

Travers: "A what?"

Master Devlin: "A bull shark."

Sheriff: "That’s insane. There aren’t any sharks in the lake."

Master Devlin: "Ordinarily, I would agree. However, its presence here indicates a significant anomaly—possibly the result of some external interference. But let’s be clear: this was no boating accident. It wasn’t any propeller, it wasn’t Old Francois, and it wasn’t the Stanley Shrike either... It was a shark, alright..."

The room falls silent as the weight of his declaration settles.

The Waldoverse continues in The Frenzy