Chapter Text
Occasionally, though rarely, Dipper would dream that the stained-glass windows spoke, chattering and murmuring as they uttered words that were hard to digest. In his dreams, the church’s broken and abandoned stained-glass windows revealed secrets; not only did they talk and argue like in a detective story that Dipper couldn’t win, but he also heard the truth—which he had locked away in a chest and thrown into the river— stained-glasses screaming so loudly. He felt ashamed, choked by the stomach acid rising up and a whirlpool exploding from within him. “Stop. Stop.”
“Mason Pines is a damn murderer!” “Ruthless monster!” “Mason is a...!” The stained-glass windows exploded into pieces so small they reflected the faint glimmers of the moon.
“Mason Pines is a vampire!”
The old clock in the office wasn’t working, as it never did, and no one seemed to care; still, Bill couldn’t help but glance at it every day, as if the clock were punishing him for watching it fail over and over again, waiting to be fixed or thrown away in a black bag. Bill kept looking at it while fiddling with a pen that was probably about to run out of ink.
The front doorbell rang, startling Bill, who rose impatiently from his office chair and headed straight for the door.
“Good morning,” a man greeted him as he tipped his hat and smoothed it with both hands, revealing the nervousness that had taken hold of him.
However, Bill made no mention of it—neither the sweat covering the man’s face nor his awkward attempts to find a comfortable stance. No, of course not; Bill simply shook the man’s very sweaty hand.
“Good morning, young man. What brings you to my humble office today?”
The handshake lasted less time than it would between two good friends, but long enough not to seem dismissive.
«Yes, Bill, perfect. Be a good, modest host.»
“Oh, Mr. Cipher, this is terrible…” The man seemed unsure whether to look at the floor or at Mr. Cipher, his gaze shifting back and forth between the two.
“No pressure. Let’s go to my office and you can tell me what happened.”
«Yeah, you’re great. Hook him right from the spine.»
Both men walked briskly to the office, a very modest office with barely enough space for a desk and three ordinary chairs. Bill ignored the fact that it was so small so as not to get even more depressed.
With his butt in the chair and his legs crossed, he thought, «I look great.» He gestured with his hand for the man to continue his story; Bill would probably be bored for a while until he got to the real problem.
“Well, my name is William. I have a family barn on the outskirts of town—nothing too fancy…” Bill began to keep time by tapping his finger on the wood. Once again, the sound had faded, and that useless clock tormented him more than he’d care to admit. «Damn trinket…» he whispered.
“And then that fawn was born…” Bill swore he heard the clock ticking, but no, it wasn’t there—it was the noisy man on the other side of the desk. «I’ll throw you in the trash, you useless thing.» The tapping on the wood began to grow more constant and rapid. Bill was getting desperate with that useless clock and with that man who seemed to be telling three stories at once.
“And in the forest, in the morning, we found it without a head.”
Bill hadn’t even noticed how agitated William was, nor did he care; he wasn’t the first person in a hysterical state to walk into his office, nor would he be the last.
William frowned in disgust as he recalled the events; he looked as terrified as if Bill had suddenly turned into a damn demon right then and there.
“So you’re telling me…” Bill tried to piece things together using the few key words he’d caught while he’d been too busy cursing the object hanging on the wall. “That a little lamb disappeared from your farm and two days later you found it headless, and that was enough to contact me?” he explained incredulously, spreading his hands wide to emphasize the absurdity.
“Mr. Cipher, this case happened two weeks ago…” The man swallowed so abruptly that Bill could hear him. “Right now, all my livestock has disappeared, and two days ago, we saw a creature standing on two legs trying to break into the chicken coop.”
“All right, all right…” Bill rose from his seat and began pacing in circles around the small office. “This is definitely a case for someone of my caliber. You were very perceptive to contact me, Mr. William.”
A glimmer of hope seemed to take hold of the seated man, who finally managed a smile for the first time since he’d arrived. «Great, you’re great.»
— “So… what do you want?
Mm-hmm?” —
William looked confused by the question, not quite catching on. «Of course—he’s a stupid peasant; God only knows if he can even read.»
— “I mean the creature…” — Bill sat back down. —"Do you want the body? The head? Its blood in a bottle this small?" — Bill held his fingers together to indicate a tiny size, amused that he could finally talk about what really mattered to him.
"Oh… I…" —Bill rolled his eyes, bored. “Make a sign banning peasants—yeah, go ahead, Bill.”
"I think their bloody clothes alone are enough evidence."
The man, optimistic, clasped his hands together nervously. Bill tried to hide his annoyance and not roll his eyes again, because he swears to God that if it becomes a bad habit, he’ll end up blind.
"All right, Mr. William."
He opened a desk drawer and took out a pen and a piece of paper.
“I need you to fill out this form and…” He rummaged through the drawer. “This contract where you guarantee to cover expenses for collateral damage or damage to your home.” The blond man’s smile contrasted sharply with his words: «A businessman, a true entrepreneur. Yeah, Bill, you’re great.»
When the legal and business matters were settled, Bill saw the man off from the doorway, exhausted and with his social energy in the red.
He slammed the door shut, as if moving his arm drained all his energy.
As it closed, a small sign could be read that read: “Mr. Cipher, the Great Vampire Hunter! Certified by All the Fangs of the State®.”