"You don't stand a chance," he repeated, inspecting his teeth with his fingers.

"I've just killed your friends, and you're next unless we come to an agreement," I tried to bring him back to reality.

"No," he shook his head. "We're vampires; we don't die just like that. They can be put back together."

I skeptically glanced behind me.

The one with the crushed windpipe had definitely given up, the Elvis lover was still fighting. It seemed he had hope.

"Mujahid, vampire, green beret, they all can be killed. I know how to do it," I warned him.

"These were much younger than me," he revealed.

Centuries here, centuries there. With his taste, he could only remember Karl Marx at most.

Suddenly, he stopped feeling his teeth and lunged at me. The only warning I had was the squeak of the sole of his shoe. I dodged, and instead of taking cover, I went for it: left, right, left, uppercut. He couldn't box, but he was damn fast, and I couldn't reach his body properly. The force of my blows pushed him into a defensive stance, then he rallied, but I went for a clinch. He was strong, very strong. Luckily, I was in a lighter weight class now. I managed to grab his forearm, knelt down, putting his center of gravity under him, and with a lever, using a swaying of the hips, I threw him up. The moment his legs got higher than his head, he got confused, lost his orientation, and released his grip. I broke his elbow and hurled him headfirst to the ground. The floor under the carpet rumbled, but his spine held. He should have stayed down, but he still tried to stand. I jumped on his chest; for a moment, it seemed that even my one hundred thirty kilograms, along with all the energy I had, wouldn't be enough. However, with a delay, his ribs gave way, and the moment the sharp ends of the broken ribs penetrated the lungs, I saw it directly on his face. He turned pale and went limp.

I panted like a locomotive; old wounds were making themselves known. Besides, my face was burning. I reached for my temples, and my palms were covered in blood. His blows had peeled the skin down to the flesh. He was better than I thought, but it didn't help him.

I leaned over him. He was breathing rapidly and shallowly, sweat beads forming on his forehead.

"You have punctured lungs," I revealed. "Every moment it gets harder and harder for you to breathe."

He hung on my eyes, but didn't show that he heard me. He constantly licked his lips with his tongue.

"Tell me who you work for, and I'll bring a doctor. The hotel must have a well-equipped first aid kit. I'll take care of you," I promised. "You'll survive."

"I'm a vampire," he managed to whisper. "I won't die. I was born in eighteen thirty-six. Screw you."

I tried it twice more, with the same result. He was dying, and he refused to admit it.

"Why did you abduct my people?" I asked him one more time.

He didn't answer anymore, and his eyes glazed over.

Fuck

With hope, I turned to the others, but none of them had made it. The adrenaline was draining out of me, and my hands began to shake. That had never happened to me before. Maybe it was because the awareness of who I was up against forced me to fight at the limit of my abilities, perhaps even pushing beyond. I allowed myself a few more seconds of rest and then reluctantly got to work.

I searched them thoroughly. Besides cheap mobile phones with not a single number in the contacts, I found nothing on them. No documents, receipts, note pads, just nothing. Whoever sent them took damn good care not to leave any trace. Why? Because of me? Hardly, I zigzagged, eluded, and they pursued me. Either he was afraid of someone or something else, or it was simply his usual way of working. A fly woke up behind the curtain and buzzed loudly.

One of the phones rang. The default ringtone. After a moment of waiting, I answered the call.

There was no sound or the slightest hint of breath from the other side, no rustling of fabric. But what did I know, maybe old vampires don't need to breathe.

"Where are my people?" I said into the silence. "Release them, or you'll die just like your men."

The unknown hung up. So much for my ability to get any information from the other side.

I left the hotel, parked the car to have a view of the entrance, and until late afternoon, I watched if anyone interesting would show up. No one came, or I couldn't uncover them. Since the police hadn't arrived, they hadn't discovered the dead yet. But the afternoon wasn't entirely wasted; I received an SMS from the post office saying they had received a package in my name. An oversized package, as the clerk emphasized several times in our telephone conversation. Politely, I thanked her for the warning, stating that I would personally pick up the package right away. Weapons, especially powerful ones, are just heavy.

After the scuffle and subsequent surveillance in the car, I felt battered, hellishly tired and poisoned, and in the end, I had to endure a three-quarter-hour queue at the post office. That was probably the worst of all. Fortunately, it only took half an hour to get back to the guest house. That I could handle. The girls weren't with me yet.

I showered, changed into the last set of clean underwear, put on jeans, and pondered for a moment about where to start. I decided to begin with the heavier stuff and plunged into washing my tops. I would check the weapons later.

At the moment when I finished hanging my wet laundry in the bathroom, there was a knock on the door.

From the manner of knocking, it was Agnieszka.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

"Come in," I called.

I didn't hear her come in; I only registered the click of the lock when she closed the door.

"Are you doing laundry?" she asked somewhat unnecessarily. "I would have guessed you'd just buy more stuff."

"I've always been economical, and years in the army only reinforced this habit," I explained.

She was scrutinizing me in a way that made me uncomfortable. Then, as if she realized something herself, she blushed.

I put on a t-shirt.

"Evelyn will arrive within an hour; she's on her way. We're supposed to order food; she's starving," she informed me.

"Fine," I agreed. "Did you find out anything?" I asked.

I put on a jacket and tucked a revolver into my pocket. I didn't want to be without a weapon, and at the same time, I didn't want to sit down to dinner fully dressed. I would lay it on the bench next to me, and if something went wrong, I hoped I'd have time to get it out of my pocket. I slid the pair of long cases, originally in one package, against the wall behind the bed, so they wouldn't be in plain sight.

I straightened up, turned around, and realized she was watching me.

She was wearing jeans, noticeably more casual shoes than when we stumbled together through the mountains, although they were still suitable for a walk in the woods. A sports hoodie with a stand-up collar unbuttoned with three buttons, underneath a dark elastic V-neck shirt. She was more noticeably made up than I had noticed before, nails painted in a red shade matching her lipstick. A slender woman with a sporty look.

"How strong are you?" I asked about something that had been on my mind for a while.

"Why? Is that a problem for you?"

She answered seriously.

"No, I don't have a problem with it," I shook my head.

"Really?"

As if she was measuring me and evaluating herself.

"No. You saved my life. I don't know how far you dragged me into the hills, but I'm damn glad you did. I had a minor problem today; I ran into another one of that gang. I need to get a better idea of what to expect from them."

"Let's discuss it downstairs; I'm hungry and thirsty," she suggested and turned to leave.

I followed her. Her jeans were one of those with an elastic component in the fabric. As she walked, they clung to her long, sportily shaped legs and firm behind.

Before entering the dining room, she turned around, and the expression with which I was looking at her remained on my face for a fraction of a second longer than it should have.

"Is something wrong?" I put on a neutrally polite face.

"Well, it can actually wait," she shook her head with a hint of a smile.

Strange.

* * *

Evelyn arrived shortly afterward.

In a miniskirt, a leather jacket, and high-heeled boots so sharp and long that she should have a weapons permit for them.

Two guys at the bar, refreshing themselves with beer after a day of cycling, couldn't take their eyes off her, and their conversation noticeably weakened. She should also have a weapons permit for her cleavage. However, that is not issued for weapons of mass destruction.

"I haven't found anything substantial. I've been on the phone or driving around all day," she began angrily as soon as she sat down.

She looked more nervous than tired, but everyone handles stress differently.

While the waiter was serving us, we fell silent.

"No trace of the off-road Volkswagen?" I couldn't believe it.

I had expected the most from that.

"I visited a million dealers, expressed serious interest, saying that I need the car as soon as possible and will pay in cash. They really tried, they called Austria and Germany. These cars just aren't made for stock; you have to wait for a week or maybe even longer after ordering. Maybe longer."

Disappointing.

"What cover story did you come up with?"

We shouldn't stir the water more than necessary.

"A chatty lady who wants to make her husband, who is preparing for a vacation in the wilderness, very, very happy," she puckered her lips and put on a sincere expression.

I believed that all the men she talked to today were really really trying.

"I have a lead on one company directly from Frenstat. They handle the transport of non-standard shipments, and according to the motor vehicle registry, they have five transits and two cargo Tatra trucks. But I suspect it's just a front; in reality, they'll be making money on something else," Agnieszka added.

Then I briefed them on my unsuccessful mission.

"Four guys yesterday, three today," Evelyn shook her head. "Have you gone mad? After this, they'll come after us with the whole army!"

"There was no other way," I defended myself. "I tried to find any clue that would lead us to them, but..." I shook my head.

They were cautious, trying to leave as few traces as possible. That meant they could also read them well. They knew about me from the first to the last.

"Tomorrow we'll each move to a different place and won't meet in person anymore. They have a file on me; we have to prevent them from getting to you through me," I said.

Evelyn observed the bite she was about to eat for a moment. I thought she would protest, but in the end, she just nodded.

"Yes, that seems reasonable."

Agnieszka shrugged.

"If you think it's necessary."

It was. Agnieszka bought the phones as I asked. I explained how we would use them. Each of us had five new phone numbers. One of them was intended for the case if any of us fell into captivity and had to contact the others. Then I bombarded them with a multitude of tasks related to finding clues. I wanted them to check everything, from property transfers in the land registry of the municipality of Frenstat in the last three years to researching changes in officials in public administration and the police department during the same period. I wanted to find out when our mysterious enemies appeared here. And what they actually are.

"And what will you do?" Evelyn asked.

"I'll be on the front line, checking every lead you discover," I said.

I expected a biting remark that they would do the harder work, but Evelyn remained silent.

"And above all, be careful. If you feel someone is following you, send a message and keep moving until I arrive."

I remembered the torture tools. I hadn't mentioned it to them. But I should.

I corrected that.

"That's really great," Evelyn almost burst out, but then she calmed down.

Agnieszka wasn't surprised, maybe she expected something similar.

Vampires and their hobbies… I wonder if sadomasochism is included?