Sal watched as Nuncio sped off with his mother. Badger would be livid with him for not sticking to the plan but… the plan had been crafted before he had smelled the blood of children on Mathilde’s breath and seen what Pietro had done to his wife.

Justice would not wait for even an hour.

When he was sure, they were safe, he glanced at the burning shed that Mathilde… that the child eater was trying to put out by throwing water from the bath house on it. He shook his head in disgust and returned into the house. While waiting he poured himself a brandy and watched as the shed burned to nothing. Mathilde was howling like the mad animal she was when she realized that the fire was stronger than her.

Then she felt his gaze on her.

Her eyes glowed in the night when she turned to look at the house and saw her enemy standing by the window. Sal raised his glass to her and drank. The vampire flew into a fury and started running towards the house. She didn’t even slow down to open the door and just kicked it off its hinges.

“Gypsy!”

There was no more any hiding what she was. Her eyes burned like the gates of hell in a face that was white as a death mask. Her maw was full of fangs for ripping and tearing. Sal kept drinking his brandy and just looked at her. His silence and lack of fear were enough to unnerve her. How used to fear she had to be. How much she craved for it. That last look of terror on her victims before she took them. The final scream…

And he was not giving it to her.

She tried to glare at him but when the red eyes met his, she could feel it even if she didn’t accept it. Power greater than hers. It was enough to make her look away.

“Where are they? Where’s Nuncio and Danielle?” Mathilde asked.

Sal ignored her and drained the last of his brandy. His silence was enough to make Mathilde growl.

“They won’t get far. I will kill you and drag them back.” Mathilde said.

“No.” Sal said and put down his glass.

“No?” Mathilde said, incredulously.

“You are going to die.”

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Mathilde stared at him for a moment in disbelief.

“Die?”

Then she hissed like a snake.

“Die?!”

Fangs and talons bared, she flew at him, ready to tear him apart. Time slowed down all around them and at that moment Sal could have counted the flaps of a fly’s wings. It looked like Mathilde was wading through mud. Far too slowly to catch him.

So, Sal caught her instead.

The vampire stumbled on her landing when Sal dived under her and grabbed her ankle. There was a surprised yelp when Sal swung the vampire over his head like a club.

Then he slammed Mathilde to the ground like a pickax.

Using her as a mallet, Sal hit and bashed Mathilde on the floor, walls, and every flat surface he could reach. This went on until all he was swinging around was a bloody sack full of broken bones and wet meat.

There was a nauseating splat when he beat Mathilde to the ground for one last time with everything he had.

It was nauseating… and satisfying.

Vampires were a sturdy lot and against all odds Mathilde was still breathing but Sal doubted that gave her much comfort right now. Leaving an injured enemy to suffer like that would have been cruel so Sal raised his leg and brought it down on Mathilde’s head, giving her the gift of mercy. A swift death was more than a Screaming Beast deserved but sadism has never come naturally to him. Her death weighed his conscious no more than putting down any other parasite.

With Mathilde’s blood covering the sole of one of his boots, he left behind a half set of footprints like a one-legged man when he walked upstairs. He made his way to Pietro’s study and sat behind his desk like a conqueror on a dead king’s throne.

There he waited.

It was just after midnight when he heard the beating of great wings, and a dark shadow flew over the house. A chill ran down Sal’s back when the shadow passed him by.

Instead of a giant bird, a man landed on the yard.

Pietro stared at the burned shack with the Wyrd Stones standing in the ash for a moment before venturing into the house. There was a sharp gasp when Pietro came across Mathilde’s corpse. The master vampire hesitated but finally he started following the one set of bloody footprints upstairs. Cautiously. Sal couldn’t help but snicker. Power had turned Pietro into a coward. He could no longer handle uncertainty.

Pietro pushed open the double doors to his study and Sal came face to face with the master of the grey house.

Pietro Capello dressed like a gentleman in a black suit made by the finest tailors and a cape that flowed behind him like the tail of a dark comet. But the fine clothes could not hide what he was. A living corpse animated by the Graveyard King’s curse. Pietro had been a young man when he had been turned. Probably the same age as Nuncio was now… which made the father and son look like twins. For some reason, Sal found that likeness more disturbing than the snow-white skin and crimson eyes.

“… you?” Pietro whispered.

“Me. Surprised to see me?” Sal said and stood up: “I bet you are.”

“How did you…?” Pietro said before baring is fangs: “Stop!”

A vampire’s gaze would have enthralled him in Garuccia but thanks to the stolen Wyrd Stones, they weren’t in Garuccia anymore. Not completely. Here both of them had one leg in The Wyrding. Here he was a god. The vampire’s magic might have affected a lesser skin-changer, but he was a prince of his clan. His Savage Highness. Panic started to set in when Pietro realized he couldn’t take over his mind.

“… what are you?” Pietro said.

In response Sal punched him.

It was the kind of blow you didn’t think about and could crack your knuckles and peel off the skin. But goddamn did it feel good when Pietro’s bones and teeth gave out. The hit was enough to send him flying and Pietro rolled down the hallway. Sal ran after him and then kicked him in the ribs. Had his opponent been a mortal, he would have kicked Pietro in two but now it just slammed him against the wall. Next Sal grabbed him by the hair and started raining blows down on him.

He had never felt stronger or more determined. His fists could have been reduced to stumps and he wouldn’t stop burying them in Pietro’s face. But righteous anger could blind a man and make him sloppy.

Pietro slashed his chest with his talons and Sal growled from the pain. He fell back while Pietro stumbled away. When Sal touched his chest, his fingers came back red. He rubbed his fingers together and then roared, showing just a bit of the god lurking under the human skin.

“What’s wrong, vermin?! Not so brave when you’re not facing women and children?! Come! Let’s see how a master vampire fares against a Prince of the Wild!”