Nicholas Vials: The Case Of Michael Vials

Emberline’s steps quickened as she moved down the corridor, her bag clutched tightly against her chest. She kept her eyes fixed ahead, avoiding the curious glances of her colleagues or anyone who might try to stop her. Speaking felt dangerous these days—every word seemed like an invitation for trouble. She preferred to stay silent, unnoticed. Her hands trembled lightly; most would assume it was from the terrible rain that had poured over Odombury, but Emberline knew her meekness had been awakened only at the thought of her encounter with Sergeant Wilkes.

Her heart raced as she turned a corner, the echo of boots on polished floors pulling her back to that moment.

It had been days, but she could still feel the pressure of his hand on her arm, firm but not violent, guiding her into a shadowed alcove just outside her building. Sergeant Wilkes' sharp features had been illuminated only faintly by the flickering overhead light, his expression unreadable in the dark, but Emberline could tell he bore a devilish smirk. She wished—Oh how she wished that Elena had no work to hold her back. She wished she had not gone home alone.

"You’re quiet, Emberline," he’d said, his voice low but insistent. "Too quiet."

She’d tried to pull away, but his grip tightened just enough to hold her in place.

"I don’t—" she’d begun, but he interrupted her, leaning in closer.

"Don’t bother lying. I know your secret," he hissed, his tone sending a chill down her spine. "And unless you want me shouting it from the rooftops, you’re going to help me."

Her breath had hitched, her mind racing as she tried to figure out what he knew—how much, and from whom.

"What do you want?" she’d managed to whisper, barely able to get the words out.

"I knew you could not have been completely upright. Nobody Nicholas knows has a hint of good in 'em," he said as he leaned in, making the hair on Emberline’s neck stand.

"No," she attempted to clear her name.

I am not a criminal, she wanted to scream at him. She wanted him to stop looking at her. She wanted to claw his eyes out.

Wilkes’s smirk was slight but suffocating. "Nicholas Vials. Close friend of yours, I am sure. I want you to keep an eye on him for me. He’s got his nose in places it doesn’t belong, and you’re going to make sure to retrieve something for me."

"I don’t know anything," she finally muttered.

"You know much more than you let on," said Wilkes, his tone venomous and accusatory. "They caught you right outside his building that day, fighting a man much bigger than you. God knows what ya' were doing there." A crack in his otherwise stoic demeanor, he seemed almost sad as he stirred a new round of allegations against her.

"I don’t know anything," she repeated, but he strengthened his hold on her, making her twist and turn, begging for release. He said a few more things, but she could not hear him; his hands felt like knives digging deep into her skin.

She’d nodded stiffly, more out of fear than agreement; in fact, she could barely hear him over the noise of her own heartbeat. "Alright," she’d said, her voice so soft it was almost swallowed by the alleyway's emptiness.

Wilkes had let her go then, straightening his coat as if nothing had happened. He began listing a few things she needed to keep in mind, but she could not hear. Her eyes seemed to dim as if someone had closed the curtains on her vision. She could only grasp a few words he said, and nothing beyond them made any sense.

Since then, the memory had haunted her, replaying in her mind at the worst moments. She couldn’t decide what scared her more: the idea that Wilkes truly knew her secret or the knowledge that she was now tangled in his schemes. She had fallen into a trap that Nicholas had warned about, but now she must entrap him to let herself loose. Now, as she passed the alley again, she caught herself glancing over her shoulder, half-expecting him to appear.

Her hands trembled as she pushed the door open and slipped inside. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep this up—watching Nicholas daily, pretending not to care, not to know him at all, all while fighting the urge to find a quiet room. Tremors ran up her body each time someone appeared in the hospital doorway, her voice shaky and her head light. She feared she might be coming down with a cold.

Nicholas had not given anyone reason to think they had known each other, and that was as much a relief as it was a curse. She did not know how to keep an eye on him if he had no intention of ever talking again. The thought hurt Emberline’s head.

Emberline sat on her bed, sweat gleaming on her forehead as she struggled to beat the heat. She stood up as immediately as she had sat down. Her mind flared with ideas, ones she could not ignore much longer. She left the comfort of her room and stepped into the freezing fog that had descended on Odombury. A perfect cover.