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It’d be hard not to notice those eyes lingering. It wasn’t as though Ezra expected anyone to be around, he was still up to old habits of mischief, and at first he half suspects he’s being watched. “What do you want?”

Ezra wasn’t above a bit sight seeing when he traveled, checking in every so often to some cheesy tourist attraction. He liked learning, especially about strange things, curious in nature. And a place renown for witches was bound to have something interesting. He’d visited the famous Witch House, which wasn’t all too intriguing unless you liked staring at old furniture. The PEM however, was more entertaining.

What’s really the point of Salem though, if you don’t visit the places the tourist companies try to hide for their dark nature? Ezra’s standing on the street corner, taking a moment to look for such places as a cigarette dangles from his lips. That’s when Glenn finds him, leaving some shop he hadn’t been paying attention to, coming out into the night to join him.

“They say that place is haunted,” he murmurs, speaking of the place across the street Ezra’s eyes had absently locked on.

“They say that about every place in this town,” Ezra replies.

“Are you scared?”

That provokes a sharp bark of a laugh, the cigarette in his lips jumps a little at the motion as Ezra slowly turns to look at the other male. His eyes drag down his frame briefly, looking him over, summing him up. He definitely doesn’t look like some tourist, like him. Ezra takes a long drag of his cigarette, lets the smoke slide from his lips while a smirk slowly grows on his features. “Are you?” 

“I saw a ghost in there once.” Ezra’s eyebrow raises in slight amusement and interest. Seems like he’s found something in this place worth looking into. “There is a window in the back that’s broken, you could probably just slip in.”

“By all means, show the way,” Ezra flicks the cigarette to the corner, fully expecting the boy to retreat. Sneaking into some haunted building with a stranger sounds like welcoming a bad decision. To his surprise the other simply grins and begins to walk across the street. 

He hates him because he’s human. This is a world where Ezra didn’t get bitten, when he wasn’t turned into some could-be cure, where he stays with the Colony because he doesn’t know he can escape. Where he invades Covaire like the other hunters during the Plague.

Only, this doesn’t feel right to him. The Colony had always killed on full moons, mostly picked off Omegas or small packs, but the light of the moon showed them the monster, the beast werewolves were beneath their human skin. It was easier to kill something with teeth and claws, than it was someone bleeding out something vile, looking on the edge of their life.

A few rare other hunters see it too, that this doesn’t feel right. This wasn’t killing unholy creatures, it was killing people. Some begged, some cried, some fought. Most of the people like him stand back, until pressured onward, like jumping off a fucking bridge. While Ezra was a skilled hunter, he wasn’t a born killer. He can’t do this.

But he’s in the middle of the city and can’t get out, the hunters won’t let him, the supernaturals are trying to stop him. He’s walking down a street half engulfed in flames when someone grabs his leg, tears the skin. Ezra looks down and sees Glenn, bleeding heavily from the plague, feral eyes glaring at him. “You fucking humans,” he wheezes, snarls. “I hate you all. I’ll kill you. I will!”

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