*The equivalent of any of those could exist. But unlike the werewolf none of them are travelers, they tend to be tied to a specific location, and they are what they are, they are not two natured and they require magic just to exist. So anything here is a new arrival and I doubt it would be one of the undead.*
“You doubt?”
^The interregnum should have destroyed any outside of one of the rifts. But if Hobson contracted the curse outside of a rift it’s possible one of the undead could have survived in the penumbra of a rift as well.*
“Crap, I was hoping you were going to say they were just fantasies. I hate monster movies, I ain’t going to like the real thing any better.”
There wasn’t much for Cutter to say so he remained silent as Elgin walked up the sloped street to the old cemetery, only two buildings down from the old stone and brick library. The town was open here, small ranch and cape cod type homes on lots that ran one into the other with few fences and enough trees to provide shade and protection from the wind. This was ‘New Beauty’ the old residential center had burnt down in the sixties and been rebuilt with proper municipal services like water, sewer, electricity and telephone. Most of the folks here were at least part blood Amerind, and this was where Elgin had finished growing up from sixteen to nineteen, the best years of his youth.
The cemetery was surrounded by a hip high stone wall with wrought iron pickets between massive stone pillars set every sixteen feet or so. The wrought iron needed a new coat of black Rustoleum and the stonework a lot of repointing; there were a few places where quite large stones had partially fallen out. But the grass inside was freshly mown with only a few saucy weeds showing.
He could feel a coldness like a draft coming from somewhere, and as he looked around he realized there was a haze that made things vaguely surreal even on the other side of the street.
*Look to your left and focus on what you can’t see.* Cutter said somewhat unhelpfully.
Elgin did as he was told, there was a mausoleum with a Madonna standing with her face in her hands in grief on it, and what he ‘couldn’t see’ was that the mausoleum door had two surfaces, one that simply lead into the crypt, another that seemed to lead someplace, other.
“Great.”
*That’s a very subtle construct so it’s not an undead. The creatures you’d call vampires are magic but their manipulation of it tends to the rough and ready.*
“So what now?” Elgin wasn’t sure what he wanted to ‘hear,’ he wasn’t exactly afraid but neither was he exactly not-afraid either.