The town shivered on a near-vertical slope. Little houses crushed together, battered and bruised by weather, looked out across the placid belly of a large lake. Mountains looming above. Mist clinging to the street.

Snow had been and gone, leaving wide patches of white. Ice hung like fangs from gutters.

A little orange hall squatted in the middle of the town. Candles in the windows called the vampires closer. Promising music and the warm rush of blood.

As Franz led the wagons into town, he looked over his shoulder.

Called; “It’s good to see civilization again, isn’t it? Even if it is dreadfully primitive.”

“Stop!” Hailwic’s voice rang clear in the frigid night.

Dimiti pulled hard on the reins while Franz looked back in confusion before hurrying to obey.

“What is it, Hailwic?” Vasilja asked, impatience edging her voice. “Listen to the music. I want to go inside.”

“And I want to bite,” Senka said.

Hailwic’s eyes slitted. “Hush.”

The blonde vampire stood tall on her wagon. Had dropped the reins and her head was crooked to the wind.

Slowly she drew the revolver and sniffed the air.

Inhaled deep.

“Dimiti?” Her voice was colder than the lake. “Get your guns.”

The first shot blasted a hole in the wagon near Senka’s hand. She let out a yelp and snatched her hand away from the splintered wood.

The second shot should have put a hole in her chest, but Dimiti flung himself at her and they rolled off the wagon and into the snow-lathered mud. He let out a grunt of pain. Hers was irritation and surprise as she pushed him off.

Vasilja was already moving, flying toward one of the houses, arms outstretched. Mad cackle bubbling across her lips. Bullets smashed through the glass windows from within, tunnelling air in search of the vampire’s flesh, but she was a blur.

She hit a window on the upper floor like a comet. Glass and shrapnel exploded inward.

Hailwic dropped to the ground, eyes searching for Senka.

Franz ducked behind his wagon and scrambled to get under it. Teeth chattering and shivering with terror as much as cold, he squeezed his eyes shut as if doing so would protect him.

His ox took three bullets and dropped, making the wagon creak and shake.

“Oh, Lord God,” the little man moaned. “What have I done? I didn’t mean it, Lord. I didn’t. Please save me. I don’t want to die. I can repent. I swear to you. I can. I’ll renounce all devils, I swear…”

Someone’s voice shouted; “Now! Do it now!”

The hall exploded.

A massive fireball ripped it apart as the bomb inside was triggered to send shrapnel spearing in all directions.

The fire roared as it chewed into houses immediately at hand. Then flared outward with frightening speed. Each flame flashing across the divide between structures and licking hungrily at old wood. In a world chilled by the dead of Winter, the inferno lit the night with a promise of blood and death.

Vasilja flew down the stairs, white dress trailing behind. She coiled like a snake around a corner and twirled her torso to avoid a bullet to her lung. Then dived onto the gunman with a shriek. One hand grabbed his shoulder.

The other his throat.

And, with manic joy, she tore him open.

She laughed as his scream thrilled her ears with the music of fear. She adored the sound. Relished the deep crack of spine and bursting ribs as she slammed him into the wall to end his scream. A ladder of sharp sound drowned in wet flesh.

Mouth lunging for the wound, she gulped her first taste of gushing blood before flinging him away as a younger man darted out of a nearby room, firing blindly.

A bullet shot past her face and she was on him.

Both hands wrapped around his head, she lifted him off his feet before her fangs slashed his neck.

She drank.

Drank swift and long.

Excited, the vampire dropped her kill and soared toward the front door, licking her fingers clean as she went.

It had been kicked open and two men were running for the trees.

“Don’t go,” Vasilja called. Reached her hand to them, feeling her demonic power rise inside. The acrid stink of Brimstone and ozone filled the air. “I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay. Stay with me…”

They lurched to a halt as one, staggering as their minds were overcome.

They shuddered. Then turned, eyes bulging.

Guns quivered forgotten in their fists. The raging battle against her control revealed in a flood of emotions which played across their faces.

Clean faces, she thought. Finely shaved. Meticulous hair.

Gentlemen.

Vasilja liked gentlemen.

She smiled at them. Beckoned with her finger. “Come to me. I know you want to.”

They began the slow shuffle back.

One jerky step after the other.

Low groans which faded away as they drew closer. Expressions shifting from horror to adoration as they stared at her, minds distantly aware of the venom in her heart. Unable to resist her vampiric call, they stumbled. Shoulders drooped.

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Mouths open.

Lust inflaming their souls.

When they were almost to the door, she giggled.

“Oh, don’t be silly,” she said. “I don’t want both of you. I only need one.”

The two men gulped.

Looked at each other.

Hesitated for just a second.

Then aimed revolvers and started firing. Screaming rage and violent hunger. Each pull of the trigger more desperate than the last.

Bullets exploded into flesh, fired one after the other until a rhythm of clicks announced all ammunition spent.

Both men, riddled with holes, dropped to their knees.

Stared mute at each other.

Blood flowing fast.

Drooling from mouths as lungs tried to expel the dark crimson flood.

And Vasilja laughed. A long mocking roll which broke the spell.

One lifted his trembling arm, aimed the revolver.

Cocked hammer.

Pulled trigger.

Click.

Vasilja crouched down next to him.

Purred into the crook of his neck as her fangs touched his skin. “Darling boy,” she whispered, breath hot against his skin. “I bet you taste delicious.”

Hailwic kicked into a door, snarl of rage twisting her face. Fury boiled her blood and she used her sword on the first man she found. Split him from shoulder to hip. Ripped the sword free and plunged deeper into the house. Three men fumbled to reload their rifles.

One swiveled from the waist, pumping his weapon fast.

Bullet smooth into chamber.

Cocked.

Aimed at her chest.

But she was faster. Her revolver spat fire and death, obliterating his head and sending fragments of skull and brain splashing across the wall.

The remaining two, unable to load in time, dropped guns and scrambled to get away. The first took her sword in the back and fell across the couch, impaled and squealing. Blood hissed from his back in warm jets.

The second changed his mind and whipped around. Thrust an arm out towards her. Hand filled with a heavy silver crucifix. “Back! Back, you foul-”

Hailwic shot him in the heart. “It’s too late for that,” she growled. “You should’ve tried that first.”

A noise from the attic made her look up.

Cruel grin on her lips.

Slitted her eyes and began walking up the stairs.

Outside, Senka rolled away from Dimiti. Narrowed her gaze. “Are you alright, Dimiti?”

“I’m fine, Miss.”

“Wait here. Everything will be fine.”

“But, Miss…”

“I’ll be fine. I want to bite.”

And she whirled, shooting into the air so fast and so high that he lost sight of her.

She could feel Hailwic’s presence. Feel Vasilja. And saw four men making a run for their horses. Their footprints left dark tracks through raking stretches of snow.

The young vampire bared her fangs and plummeted.

Crisp air stinging her cheeks.

Whipping her dress behind her.

One of the men looked up. Opened his mouth. Died as she landed on him, smashing his body to the ground with such force it crushed his spine.

“Davey!”

Senka felt nothing from the impact other than satisfaction. She corkscrewed her body as she leapt from the corpse and into the next. Clawed hands tearing. Blood burst as she ripped through cloth and skin.

Found something slippery and smooth.

Yanked a few yards of entrails free and tossed them aside.

Didn’t watch him fall.

Violence was singing a song inside her mind. A thrumming song which played in tune to the Fel of her dreams. A song which made the dead heart in her chest seem to beat with frenetic energy.

She smiled as she moved, her body flowing with the languid grace of a predator.

A bullet cracked into her shoulder and she let out a vengeful shriek. Drove herself through the air in a vicious blur. Snatched wrist and squeezed until bones snapped and he dropped the revolver.

Screaming.

She launched herself into the air with tremendous force. Wind howling in her ears, echoing frantic screams as he wailed in her grip.

Senka spun at the top of the trees, eyes searching.

Found what she was looking for.

Pulled him close. Raked fangs through throat, snapping greedy mouthfuls of blood as it spurted fresh. Then wheeled his body in her arms. Laughing as his squeals rose in pitch.

Lifted him high over her head.

And rammed him down onto a splintered branch. The wooden limb speared through his back to erupt from his chest in a crimson flash of gore. His head lolled to one side, blood vomiting as he managed a single moan; “Mother…”

No one heard him.

The last hunter was on his horse. Pounding its flanks with frantic lashes to send it galloping wildly down the muddy track. And Senka was quick behind him. Banshee wail assaulting his ears.

“Lord help me,” he croaked. Twisted his torso. Aimed with the revolver.

Steady.

Pulled the trigger.

Bullet stung her cheek, and she was tossed sideways.

Hit a tree.

The crunch sounded final, and he grinned his triumph. “Got you, you bitch!”

Turned to face front.

And caught the limb across his face as the horse kept going.

“Ack!”

Thrown back, he landed in a dazed heap. Clutched his face.

Blood.

Lots of it. His head felt numb. Couldn’t feel his nose. He pressed against his forehead, but it didn’t feel cracked. Just hurt. Really hurt.

And wet. Just blood, though.

Just blood.

He didn’t have time. Knew that much. His hand searched for his revolver in the snow and mud.

Didn’t find it.

“Shit.”

Wobbled to his feet and took a step forward. Waves of nausea nearly drove him back to his knees, but he grit his teeth and kept moving. He had to get away.

Had to warn the others.

“You look tough,” a voice said from the tree above.

He looked up, neck jabbing pain as he did.

Saw her.

Perched like an owl. Or a gargoyle. Demonic face too white in the slivered song of moonlight.

“Foul creature,” he spat. Dug into his pocket and found the crucifix. In the other, a wooden stake. He still had that. Held both in front like a shield. “Keep away from me. I know what you are.”

“Do you?” She dropped lightly to the ground. Drifting toward him. Eyes burning with a craving he could never fathom. His own lust had haunted him all this way. And when he’d seen her, he’d felt himself stirred. But now, he knew his were the desires of a child. Hers were the hungers of a demon. “Do you really know what I am?”

“You’re a demon.” Hissed between his teeth. He kept the crucifix carefully between them. Knew she was feeling the effects of it. Her eyes couldn’t look at it. “A vampire!”

But it didn’t seem to stop her. She smiled. “What is your name?”

“Richard,” he said. “I won’t give you my last name. You don’t deserve it.”

“I don’t care about the rest,” she said. “I just wanted to know what name to scream as I tear the beating heart from your chest and drink it dry. Oh, Richard, I’ll scream. Oh, Richard. Men like to hear me cry their name. Vasilja says it’s because you’re all very dull. You’d like me to scream your name, though, wouldn’t you, Richard?”

“I’m not afraid. Not afraid of you!”

“That’s good. I don’t want you to be afraid. You see, I want you to fight me,” she said. “Do you understand? And not just a small fight. You have to give me everything you have. You can’t hold back. You must try. Try really hard. Hit me, Richard. Hit me now. Can you do that?”

“Just try it, bitch. I’ll show you!”

She pounced. Shrieking; “Do it!”

Not far away, Vasilja slurped the last drop of blood from the young man bent over her knee and smiled.

A wistful smile.

“I do wonder who was playing the flute,” she said to the dead man. “I would have liked to listen to it now. Wouldn’t you? Music makes life worth living and death worth achieving.”

He didn’t answer.

Hailwic made the top of the stairs.

Held the revolver ahead and kept it pointed at a figure made dark against the moonlight.

“You were waiting for us,” she said. Her brow creased. “You knew we were coming this way.”

“You are predictable, Hailwic. The others more so.” He shrugged. “I had hoped you’d arrive earlier, though. I’m glad you found me first, though. It’ll make it easier to deal with the others when you’re dead.”

The blonde vampire opened her mouth to speak, then moved in a blur as the figure whipped toward her with confounding speed. Flash of steel.

And she felt it.

Felt the tip burst through her chest. Tear through ribs. Heart.

Spine.

She hadn’t paid attention to the simple-looking spear he’d been holding. But as it entered her body, it seemed to come alive. It shone with angelic light. Its heat boiling inside her like the sun.

“Vasilja,” she whispered. “Senka.”

“They’ll be joining you soon.”

Hailwic aimed the revolver. Pulled the trigger.

Bullets found flesh each time and he let out a roar as he tore the spear free. Jabbed it into her side one more time.

Twisted.

And she screamed as heat flowered inside veins.

Burning.

Consuming.

She heard Vasilja first.

Heard Senka’s sorrowful echo.

“Not with this you won’t,” she hissed.

With dying hands, the vampire grabbed the shaft of the holy spear. Took a last breath. Glared into his face and wrenched.

The shaft snapped with a blast of light and fire.

He screamed her name.

Screamed it with hatred.

And lunged with grasping hands to tear at her flesh. But was too late.

She was already ash.