The walls were mottled and peeling, and most of the streetlights were broken. Only a few dim yellow lights flickered intermittently, while vast shadows clung stubbornly to the corners of the streets and alleys. Unseen dangers lurked in the mist.
"This is the site of the most recent unexplained disappearance. It wasn't recorded in the police station's files."
Nightwing explained in a low voice.
"The missing person was a petty thug, thirty-four years old. He had a place in the apartment building up ahead and made his living running errands for gangs and collecting protection money."
Nightwing softened his footsteps, his short batons resting against his back. Tension radiated from him, with none of his usual easygoing air.
"I checked this area for residual energy traces, but unfortunately, they weren't clear. There wasn't any blood left on the ground, either, or claw marks or unfamiliar footprints. It was as if someone had simply vanished into thin air."
In all his time stationed in Blüdhaven, he had dealt with gang wars, crazed mutants, and vicious serial killers. No matter how troublesome an enemy was, he always had a way to handle them.
But this case defied every principle of criminal investigation.
The enemy lurked in the dark, with no discernible pattern. There was no way to determine their motives, their methods, or their next target. Even with the full array of investigative skills Batman had taught him, he had nowhere to start.
And vampires were merely a nocturnal legend in Blüdhaven. A vampire being responsible was just one possibility among their countless theories.
The fact remained: there were no traces, no evidence. Everything was nothing more than subjective intuition.
And intuition could not serve as a definitive conclusion in a case.
Could he tell those who had lost loved ones that