The sun left a soft blush against the sharp peaks of mountains being swallowed by impending night.

The two men were oblivious to the beauty of it. The freezing temperatures had robbed them of their ability to appreciate it as crisp evening air bit deep into their bones.

“Put your shoulder into it, Franz. Come on! I’d rather sleep in a tavern tonight, if it’s all the same to you.”

“I’m a doctor, not a fucking labourer!”

“I don’t give a pig’s arse what you think you are, you weak piece of shit. Right now, you’re the only fucking help I have! Now, push!”

They roared together, each man leaning hard on the wagon’s wheel until, with a soulful creak, it rolled loose of the savage ditch.

The ox, feeling free, trotted a few steps before stopping.

Shook its head. Looked back at Franz, who leaned against the side of the wagon. Sweat poured down his face as his lungs heaved for breath.

The old man reached out and thumped him on the back.

“There you go,” he said in a kindlier tone. “Good work in the end.”

Franz dropped to the ground and sprawled on his back. A tired heap. “I can’t do this, Dimiti. I wasn’t made for it, was I? I’m a scholar. A doctor. Look at me. Look at my hands. What’s this? A blister. It’s a blister. I’ve never had such things before.”

“You’ve never travelled?”

“Of course I have! But I’m usually inside coaches. Not pushing them out of the damned mud.”

“Well, it’ll be good experience for you, won’t it?”

“No,” the little man curled his lips. “No, it bloody well won’t. I hate it. I can’t stand it. Look. My trousers, they’re ruined.”

“Should’ve brought another pair.”

“I did. I wore them yesterday. They’re in even worse condition now.”

“Quit your moaning, Franz. There’s a town up ahead. A hot meal and a decent kip and you’ll feel right as rain.”

“Until it rains.” He rose onto his elbow and spat into a puddle on the side of the road. “What was I thinking?”

“Whatever it was,” Dimiti said. “Keep thinking it. It’ll keep you going.”

“Why come this way at all, though, Dimiti? Why? Look at this. Mud. It’s just fucking mud. It’s not a real road, even. It’s not on a map. Surely there are better ways. We could have taken the ferry. Or a train.”

“Aye,” Dimiti said. “There’s a lot better than this, for sure. But it’s what Hailwic wanted. So, we live with it.”

The little man looked up, his intense expression staring holes in the other man.

Who ignored him.

Was used to the stare by now.

“Aren’t you ever conflicted, Dimiti?” The little man’s eyes were shrewd, but something stirred inside them. Something which nibbled at the loyalty Vasilja had instilled in him only days before. “Don’t you ask yourself if you’re really doing what you want, or is it because of her? Because of the touch she put on your mind?”

The old man didn’t look upset by the question. “Don’t waste your breath on me with that kind of talk. I’ll serve her for the rest of my life.”

“And how long will that be, do you think? How long before she tires of you? She’s not like you and I, Dimiti.” Quick look to the coffins. To the last shred of daylight. Hurrying now. “Satan’s work. That’s what she is. Even to her bones. All three of them. They creep inside our heads. Make us do things. Are we doing them because of us? Are these our choices? I can’t be sure. I want to be sure. Dammit, man, how can I be sure?”

“Whatever my choices are now, Franz, it were my choice to serve in the beginning. I’ll accept what comes. She’ll look out for me. I know it.”

“You know the price of serving her as much as I. Damnation. Burning in the fires of Hell for all eternity.” His tongue flicked out. Back in. Quicker than a whip. “They’re evil. How can such evil look out for us? They don’t look at us as anything more than servants!”

Dimiti looked the man up and down, expression showing he didn’t much like what he was seeing.

But age stopped him from leaping on Franz and stabbing him in the throat.

Instead, he shrugged. “I don’t much give a shit what you think, Franz. And I never will.”

“What does she see in you, I wonder?”

“Probably someone who doesn’t complain.”

“Like a dog, you mean?” Lightly. “Are you saying you’re a dog, Dimiti?”

“Aye, if that’s what she wants me to be.”

“I bet you think of licking her-”

Dimiti wrenched the little man by his collar. Lifted with inhuman strength to slam him against the wagon. The sudden burst of strength took Franz by surprise and he whimpered in fear and pain as the old man held him off the ground.

To Franz, it was as if Dimiti’s eyes glowed sullen red as the older man glared into his face.

Fear churned his belly’s acidic juices and he wondered if he’d pushed the snarling Dimiti too far.

“You listen to me, you little shit. Listen good. I don’t give a fuck what you say about me. I really don’t. You think you’re better than me with your dandy clothes and your snuffbox and your picky manners. You think you’re a better man. That’s fine. I haven’t been bothered by that kind of shit in a long time.” Pushed his face so close. The deep lines in the old man’s face didn’t look so deep. Didn’t look caused by age. They looked unnatural. Made him look like a gargoyle. “But I’ve heard enough of your shit about her. If you talk about the Lady like that again, I’ll have your tongue out. Then I’ll nail it to the nearest fucking tree.”

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“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I fucking well would. And it’d be a pleasure.”

“She wouldn’t like that.”

“I don’t think she’d mind in the end, Franz. You’d still have your hands to write. And an educated man such as yourself can surely write out anything she wants from you.”

“She did something to you, didn’t she?” The little man peered closer. Something about Dimiti now seemed obviously inhuman. “What did she do?”

“If she wants you to know, she’ll tell you.” Dimiti let the little man go with a gruff shove. “Just you remember what I said.”

“She promised me power, Dimiti. All she promised you is servitude.” Franz absently smoothed down his rumpled clothes. “I’m going to ask her to give you to me, one day. And when she does, I’ll have you flogged every single morning. Right before breakfast. I’ll listen to you beg, do you know that? You’ll beg for mercy from me every day, but you’ll never get it.”

Dimiti snorted. “I don’t beg.”

The old man walked away, leaving Franz to let out an ugly chuckle as he slumped against the wheel. “But you’re a dog, Dimiti,” he called. “Just a dog. That’s exactly what you do. You beg.”

Dimiti didn’t answer.

But another voice did.

“I want to bite you.”

Franz whirled on his heels, heart racing. Found Senka perched on top of her wagon. Eyes slitted dangerous. Red lips an angry line.

“I didn’t mean anything,” he stammered. “I was just teasing. That’s all. There’s nothing to do out here. The mountains. There’s too many mountains. They close in on me. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand it any longer!”

He threw himself to the ground as she swooped over his head, hissing through her fangs. Her dress whipped his spine and her clawed hands lashed once, leaving three thin lines down the back of his neck.

Landing without a sound, she crouched in front of him. A panther ready to pounce. “I really want to bite you.”

“Senka,” Vasilja called. “Please leave Franz alone.”

Relief warmed his bowels as her voice melted inside his ears and he found himself smiling. A dreamy smile as his doubts and fears slid away.

“Lady,” he breathed. Scrambled to his knees and bowed, touching head to the ground. Knew he was groveling, but couldn’t stop himself.

How much of that was him, he wondered.

“Where are we, Franz?”

“A mile or two outside a place called Hallstatt.” He sighed. “It seems out of our way. And these stupid bovines keep getting stuck in ditches. The mountain trails are terrible this time of year. I’m telling you, it’s barely a trail. It’s too wet. I’ve worked as hard as I can, but it’s not easy, Lady. It’s not easy. I told him we should have taken the boat. It would have been easier.”

“We don’t like to cross the water, Franz,” Hailwic said. She uncoiled from her coffin and rose into the air. “Where’s Dimiti?”

Franz shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“He made Dimiti leave,” Senka said. “Can I bite him, Hailwic? Vasilja won’t let me.”

“She probably has a good reason.” Pause. “Maybe you can find Dimiti?”

“I think he went that way,” Vasilja offered lightly. Pointed toward a line of trees. “He shouldn’t be far.”

“Alright,” Senka said. She gave Franz a spiteful hiss which made him shuffle a step back. Then floated toward the trees, swinging her mace absently at the wind.

“Salt mines,” Vasilja said when Senka was out of view. “Isn’t that all this place was good for? I’m sure that’s what Dimiti said was here.”

“I believe so,” Hailwic said. She drifted higher so she could see above the trees. Her eyes swept over the grey mountains sloped like chilled razors on either side. Moonlight bathed the ice-capped peaks blue where it could.

Shivering beams spearing between racing clouds dragged on alpine winds.

Vasilja looked up at her. Crossed her arms across her chest. “Are you sure we can’t go to Munich? I would very much like to go to Munich, you know.”

Hailwic shook her head. “No. Munich is the obvious choice. And the most convenient. The roads to Munich will be watched more closely than those to Zurich.”

“I don’t think Senka will like Zurich. I know I don’t, and I’ve never even been.”

“This stopped being a holiday as soon as a vampire hunter tried to kill her in our hotel.”

Franz looked up. “Vampire hunter?”

“Hush, Franz. Please don’t interrupt when we’re talking. Unless you know something about vampire hunters?”

“Crazy old folk, mostly,” he said. “Older than me. Older than Dimiti. One tried to join our society last year. I sent him packing. I won’t tolerate that kind of nonsense. Folklore makes my head hurt. Most of it’s just old wives’ tales, isn’t it?”

“You’re a voice of reason in an insane world,” Vasilja said, patting his cheek. “Now, do be useful and make sure the wagons are ready for Dimiti.”

He nodded.

Didn’t want to do it.

But how could he refuse?

Vasilja prodded the soft mud trail with her toe. “I think he’s right about the road, Hailwic. It’s terrible. Look at this. We should write a letter to the Prince. The state of it. Look. How is anyone supposed to travel here?”

“No one travels this way,” Hailwic said. “That’s why we chose it.”

“It’ll take forever to reach Paris, though. At this rate, Franz will die of old age before we get across the lake.”

“He doesn’t have to…”

Vasilja shot her an indignant look. “Well, I’m not letting him have any of my blood, if that’s what you’re suggesting. I like Dimiti. I don’t like Franz. Just look at him. He looks like a stoat. You know what a stoat is, don’t you? The man is positively repugnant. I only kept him around because you want him to introduce you to Luciferians. And because Senka doesn’t like him, I suppose. I admit that does amuse me a little.”

“Don’t you think you’re being hard on her?”

“No, Hailwic. No, I don’t. Both of you are being very unreasonable. It’s bad enough that she has you following something she saw in a dream. A dream of all things! But now you’re seeing vampire hunters in every shadow and have us trudging through the mountains. We’re not goats, Hailwic. Our wagons are not pulled by goats.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you? I hope so. Because I’ve had quite enough of mud, thank you.”

Hailwic’s laughter rang through the trees. “Vasilja, you were born in a place just like this. Can’t you remember?”

“Despite my very best attempts to forget, I remember it very well.” Icy cold, the vampire turned away and drifted back toward her coffin. “And this intolerable mud was just one of the reasons I left.”

“Wait.” Hailwic cocked her head suddenly. “I can hear music.”

“Can you? Really, Hailwic? Do you mean it? You’re not just teasing me now, are you? It’s not that horrible peasant rubbish, is it? I can’t stand that nonsense. It’s like listening to cats fight. Please don’t tell me it’s a music box.”

“No.” Frown. “It sounds like a flute.”

“I must hear it.” She slammed her coffin shut and whirled as Dimiti and Senka returned to the wagons. Imperiously, she pointed at him then the wagons. “Dimiti! There’s a flautist in this grubby excuse for a town up ahead. I wish to hear it.”

“Yes, Lady.” He touched his cap and called to the wagon; “Move up, Franz!”

“I’m moving,” Franz growled back. “I’m moving. About all that is, of course.”

With the oxen quickly on the move, and the chance for music, Vasilja brightened. She joined Senka on the wagon with Dimiti and linked her arm with the younger vampire.

Hailwic kept to the rear.

She tucked a heavy revolver into her belt and kept her gaze moving across the dark shadows which crawled through mountains and trees.

“The flute is an amazing instrument, Senka,” Vasilja said. “It has a voice like no other. Depending on who is playing it, of course. I do hope this one is decent. If they’re not, I won’t care what Hailwic says. I’ll bite them.”

“Will we be able to bite someone tonight, do you think?”

“We’ll see when we get into town.” She giggled, giddy with joy. “But I hope so! I think so.”

Trees grew across the trail, scraping the top of the wagons as they went underneath.

Senka let out a girlish squeal as leaves prickled her skin. Pine needles soon covered the wagons.

Only Vasilja didn’t seem to notice. Didn’t try plucking needles from her dress.

Had instead closed her eyes and was smiling.

“Oh, Senka. Good news,” she said dreamily. “Best of news, in fact. Listen. Can you hear? The flute is more than decent. It’s beautiful.”