There were two of them.

The first lifted the blind, allowing sunlight to fill the corridor. He peered out at passing hills and trees. A village in the distance. Blur as the train shot past a small farm.

“Nice day, don’t you think, Aubrey?” Conversational.

“Keep your voice down.”

Vernon resisted the urge to club the other man across the back of his head.

Since leaving London, he’d endured a constant atmosphere of barely restrained contempt from Aubrey, who considered himself far too aristocratic for Vernon’s acquaintance. Loudly, Aubrey had demanded someone else be partnered with him.

And been refused.

He’d then demanded a separate cabin on the train.

And been refused.

Instead of braining him, Vernon scratched his moustache and took a half-step back. He glanced left and right as Aubrey attempted to pick the lock.

Vernon had expected to be ordered around like a common lackey and, as such, had expected to be doing all the dirty commoner work. But instead Aubrey fancied himself to be some kind of aristocratic burglar. He seemed to have a romantic view of criminals which Vernon found both disturbing and hilarious at the same time.

Aubrey scratched and twisted his tools.

Shifted on his fat little legs and thrust out his ass like a fool.

Vernon resisted kicking it.

Had to look away to fight that urge.

The steward would be doing his rounds shortly. Moving from cabin to cabin. Ensuring spoiled first-class prats like Aubrey had their mineral waters topped up and a small glass of something hedonistically appropriate on the way.

Stifling a sneer, he looked down at Aubrey again.

Who was still peering hard at the lock.

Fumbling with the pins.

In fairness to the rich prat, he wasn’t usually that bad at it. But nervousness always made him slow.

Vernon’s fingers itched to take over, but there was no way he was going to spend the trip home listening to Aubrey whine on and on about how inappropriate it was for one of the working class to interfere with his noble pursuits.

For Aubrey, this whole thing was an adventure. One which had proved more exciting than most. They’d never seen a real vampire before. This would be their first.

It was, to Aubrey, a mission of utmost importance. More than a strike against evil. It was one he hoped would provide the first step to gaining admittance to the highest levels of their Order. He’d never quite believed his name wasn’t enough. It had been enough for the Freemasons.

And the Templars and Rosicrucians.

And another fifteen secret societies Vernon knew about and two he was reasonably sure the other man had invented to increase his self-diagnosed aura of mystery.

Aubrey was no doubt anticipating the chance to sit with brandy in hand and feet up by the fire while regaling younger members with tales of the time he’d picked a lock on the Orient Express and staked two murderous vampires all on his own.

Because there was no doubt in Vernon’s mind that Aubrey would leave him out of both his report and future tales.

Truthfully, Vernon couldn’t care less about glory.

He didn’t care what the Order’s mysterious leaders wanted.

He cared only that the vampire scourge was extinguished as soon as possible.

Then, and only then, could his late wife rest in peace.

“Come on. Aubrey,” he murmured, suddenly impatient. “We don’t have much time.”

“Will you quit distracting me? This is hard enough as it is with the train bouncing around like this.”

Of course. The train’s rhythmic motion.

Always an excuse.

“Do you want me to do it?”

“No!” Aubrey hissed. “I want you to keep your bloody mouth shut and your eye on the corridor!”

Once more, he resisted bringing his club down on the round balding head.

The snap of the lock, when it came, was a welcome relief to them both.

Aubrey lifted himself up. Dug a hand into his coat and pulled out a long precisely carved wooden stake. Mallet in the other, he nodded. A tip of the hat to the lower class lamb who was about to head into the room first, no doubt.

At least, until this tale was retold. At which point, the lower class remained a gibbering mess outside in the corridor while the valiant son of a bankrupt lord did all the dirty work like the elite gentleman he was.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Vernon grimaced.

Still didn’t care.

He preferred to be first.

And damn Aubrey and his petty ambitions. Damn them all. He’d only come to kill vampires.

He eased the door open with his shoulder and entered the darkness.

A leather curtain had been pinned to the window, blocking all light. First thing he did was light a lamp by the miniscule desk.

“Hurry, man,” he hissed.

Aubrey scrambled to get inside, pushing the door shut behind him.

“Wait,” he huffed. “I want to kill them. We had an agreement, Vernon.”

“To Hell with your agreement. We don’t have time for your foolishness. You take the one on the left. I’ll take the right.”

“I want the one on the right.”

“What for?”

“Just do as I say!”

“Fine.”

They shuffled around each other, bumping against the small twin cots.

On top, the vampires lay. Wrapped in canvas bags. He thought of pulling the leather away, but decided he didn’t want to make too much more noise in case the big old man had returned to his room. They hadn’t seen him all morning.

But, with Paris so close, they had to take their chance. It had to be today or not at all.

And, despite their conflicting reasons, neither man wanted to let these two monsters slip through their fingers.

Vernon pulled a knife and slit the canvas carefully, revealing the vampire’s pale face. In the mute light, he couldn’t help but marvel at her features. She was almost angelic, he thought.

No sign of the corruption which infected her.

None at all.

Behind him, Aubrey had slit the canvas open and let out a grunt as he pulled it further down to expose the vampire to her navel.

Hands shaking, in fear or anticipation, he reached and grabbed hold of her dress.

Then, shockingly, tore it open with a jerk.

“Aubrey,” Vernon hissed. “What the fuck are you playing at?”

“Got to see her chest properly if I want to get her heart,” Aubrey said. His voice was thick and the words tumbled out of his wet lips. He put the mallet down and placed a hand on the young vampire’s exposed breast. Thumb rubbing her nipple. “She’s so cold. Honestly, if her tit wasn’t so soft, I’d think she was frozen solid...”

“Don’t be disgusting, man.”

“What? It’s not like she’s a lady or anything. She’s not even human. In a few minutes, I’ll have this stake right through her and nobody would know she was even here. They turn to ash, remember? Nothing left of them. Just ash. All traces gone. It’ll be like she was never here.”

“Just stake her and be done with it, then.” He turned away, unable to stomach the sight of the fat man’s pudgy fingers across that perfect porcelain skin. It was abhorrent.

“They’re in torpor, Vernon. They don’t know we’re here. We could yell in their ears and they’ll never wake up. That’s what he said, right? Van Helsing? He said that. They might as well be corpses.”

“Aubrey,” Vernon kept his voice calm. “If you think of doing more than simply striking that vampire with the stake in your hand, I swear to God Almighty that I will kill you right here and damn the consequences.”

“How dare you speak to me like that!”

“And how dare you contemplate acting out what’s in your sick mind. I won’t have it. You try it, and I’ll kill you. And that’s the absolute last we’ll speak of it.”

“Fuck you, Vernon.” The fat man snatched his mallet. “When we get back, I’ll-”

“Say nothing. Because, if you do, I’ll tell my side. I know who the others will believe.”

“No one would believe you! You’re just… Just a…”

“Yes, I know very well what you think I am. I know you tried to have me thrown out of the Order more than once. But it seems Van Helsing values my skills over what’s left of your tarnished family name.” He lifted his own stake and pressed the sharp tip against the vampire’s sternum. Right above the heart. “Now. Do it.”

Without hesitation, he lifted his mallet.

Brought it down with a determined grunt.

He heard the explosive blast.

And a crunch which sounded louder in his ears than anything he’d ever heard. It left his brain ringing as though he’d been standing beneath a cathedral’s bell as it rang and rang.

Blood sprayed across the wall in front of him. So much of it. He stared at it in shock. It wasn’t the vampire’s blood. It should have been, but it wasn’t.

It was his own.

How was his blood pumping from his chest like that? And why couldn’t he breathe?

Nerveless fingers dropped the mallet. The stake rolled free of his fingers and clattered to the floor between his legs.

“Aubrey…?” He wheezed, struggling for air.

The fat man was struggling, too. Wrestling with the old man who’d kicked into the room. Aubrey’s mallet smashed into the old man’s cheek. But it didn’t stop him.

He kept coming.

Vernon dropped onto the floor beside Aubrey’s legs. Leaning against the table under the window. Hand against the hole in his chest, he watched his blood flow steadily between his fingers.

Saw the mallet crack across the old man’s forehead. Sent him wheeling back.

Arm came up.

Vernon tried to shout a warning, but could only spit blood.

Aubrey drove into the old man, slamming him into the door. A hinge popped loose.

The old man brought the revolver down on Aubrey’s bald head.

Should have dropped him, but Vernon could have told the old man Aubrey had a thick skull.

The fat man snatched a jug from the side table.

The base hit the old man’s chin. Rocked his head back as splinters of porcelain rained down around their scuffling feet. Crunched under boots, the shards were quickly lost into the rug.

A fist darted into Aubrey’s nose.

Blood.

Then the old man let out an angry roar and used his heel to kick the fat man back. Aubrey crashed into the bed. Bounced sideways and dropped between Vernon’s knees.

His head shot up. Pig-faced, but feral. He saw the last lights in Vernon’s eyes begin to die.

“No,” Aubrey whimpered, scrambling to face the old man looming above. “Please don’t kill me. I’m a gentleman! A gentleman, I say.”

“Aye? A gentleman, is it?”

“I have money. Titles.”

“All nice things, I’m sure.”

“My father would pay you more money than you’ve ever dreamed of, I swear!” Aubrey flinched as the old man glared down at him. “You can’t. You can’t kill me! I’m a fucking gentleman!”

“Ah, go fuck yourself, your Lordship.”

The old man pulled the trigger.

Again and again until there were no bullets left.

Then, growling in pain, he tossed the revolver on the closest bed and snatched a towel, which he pressed to his bleeding face.

Someone rushed up the corridor. Hammered on the door.

Dimiti sighed.

Pulled it open and nodded to the steward. “It’s okay now,” he said. “It’s all over. Nothing to get excited about.”

The steward peeked over Dimiti’s shoulder.

Saw the two bodies.

The blood on the wall.

His face went pale.

Dimiti reached out and dropped a battered hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Aye,” he said. “It’s a bit messy to look at, son. But I’d be real grateful if you’d get me something to clean it up with.”

The steward bobbed his head. “Of course, sir.” He paused. “I’ll get you some ice, too. And bandages? I have some medical supplies. For your head.”

Wincing, Dimiti touched where the mallet had smashed into his skull. It was beginning to swell. His knuckles, too, weren’t feeling so good. “I’d really appreciate that.”

“Are they… Are they alright?”

“Hmm?” He looked at the two vampires, lost to the dark of torpor. Safe. For now. “Aye, they’re safe. Don’t you worry none.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” The steward leaned back against the window behind him. Slowly drew the blinds down so darkness once more filled the corridor. “I was worried when I saw those two get on this car. They didn’t look right. Real shifty, they were. I’m glad you got them, Dimiti.”

“You did just fine, son.” The old man gently closed the door. Stared down at the two corpses. Finally allowed himself to relax. Breathe. “Just fine.”