As Niero helped Rachel to her feet, the sound of a bell rang out across the village.

The family became even more panicked, but in a much different way than they had been. When Niero walked through the door, they all became pale and still, like stone. But now they ran across the house in various directions, occasionally knocking into each other, as they changed their clothes, smeared dirt in their faces, rubbed a strange, foul smelling odor on their skins, and pulled their hair in various directions.

“What are they doing?” asked Niero. “What does the bell mean?”

“It’s time for church,” said Rachel bitterly. She was the only one not rushing around in a panic.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” said Niero, “being an unholy creature of the night, I’m not exactly an expert on churches. Even if I’m invited in, I spontaneously burst into flames if I so much as put a toe over the threshold. But from what I’ve heard, you are supposed to wear your best clothes for Church, yes? Your Sunday best? So why is your family changing into rags?”

“Well, you're in luck. This is a vampire church. Or at least, they call it church,” said Rachel. “It’s like you said, vampires can tell jokes, they’re just not very good jokes.” She glared at Niero, who patiently waited for a further explanation. If she understood anything about him so far, it was that he loved anything new, anything he hadn’t seen in his long, lonely, unending life.

“The vampires that control this town don’t come around very often,” continued Rachel. “But when they do, they want to appraise their livestock. That’s why we make ourselves look as unappetizing as possible. So far it’s been working.”

“Your idea, I take it?” asked Niero.

“Not exactly mine anymore,” said Rachel, biting her lip. “Now everyone in the village is doing it.”

Niero stood there for a moment, staring out at nothing in particular, his eyes clenched shut. Somehow, Rachel could tell he was making a very important decision. She did not interrupt him, in case that decision was whether or not to eat her family alive, though she doubted such a question would qualify as “important” to a vampire such as himself.

“I would very much like to see this church,” Niero said, at last opening his eyes.

“Of course you would,” said Rachel. She tried hard to hide her contempt for the vampire, but she was not having much success. “I just have to get ready, then I’ll take you there.” She said it with as much sweetness as she could muster, which wasn’t much. But it seemed to work, because the vampire nodded.

“Thank you very much,” he said.

The rest of the family left ahead of them, which left Rachel feeling far more relaxed. She poked her head out from the room she shared with her seven siblings and saw the vampire patiently waiting for her, enjoying another cup of ale.

She hurried to her bed, which was uncomfortably crammed into the corner, not even as long as she was - more a sack on the floor than a proper bed. She pulled it back and started digging in a spot she had memorized, reaching a good six inches deep before her hand encountered a hard hard glass surface. She dug around it until she managed to pull out a glass vial, full of a bright white substance that almost seemed to glow.

It looked like pure sunlight was trapped in there, sloshing about, licking the corners of the corked opening - almost as if it were desperate to escape and fulfill its purpose.

Because the vampires who ruled over Bresher were rarely around, a group of vampire slayers would stay there from time to time. Every time they visited, the group changed - not just their physical appearance, as they picked up scars and deep circles under their eyes, built up muscle - but also the group itself. Every year members would vanish, and after a while Rachel learned to stop asking where they went.

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They had been coming since before she could walk, and as soon as she could, she was always chasing after them. They taught her how to fight, how to talk her way out of trouble, and how to think like a proper vampire. Most importantly, they taught her how to hate a vampire.

On their most recent visit, one of the slayers had given Rachel the vial. He was one of the only slayers that had been around since the beginning, Rachel even had a vague memory of him holding her when she was just a baby.

He had a kind face, full of prickly stubble, and his long hair was tied back in a braid. He was clearly an experienced slayer, but he never once acted like one, always drinking and telling her terrible jokes, reading under an old fat oak by the farm. Even after all those years, he somehow had no scars, no heavy bags under his eyes, no thousand yard stare directed at nothing in particular.

“Here, take this,” he had told her.

They were sitting under the oak at the time, enjoying exotic and strangely shaped fruit he had brought her. He always brought her some sort of souvenir, something from the far off corner of a world she would never visit.

“What is it?” she asked, turning the bottle over in her hand. At first she thought the bottle was empty, the contents within blending with the shafts of light that leaked through the tree leaves. Yet the light in the bottle was just a little brighter than the twilight rays, and a little whiter.

“It’s called bottled daylight, or mercurial poison,” the slayer answered.

“What does it do?” She asked.

She could still remember his answer quite clearly. “It's a poison, but not just any poison,” he told her. “This one is particularly effective on vampires. If you drink it before being bitten, then your blood will become like fire to them. Shortly after consuming it, any vampires that had so much as a sip will turn to dust, the same way they would if exposed to sunlight.”

Rachel gazed at the bottle, transfixed by its beauty and petrified by its implications. So the only way to make it work was to be fed upon, voluntarily. “What are the odds of survival?” she asked.

“For the vampire?” the slayer said, shaking his head. “None. For you? Well, The poison is not nearly as poisonous for a human, but it’s not good for you either. And if that doesn’t kill you, you have to hope that whichever vampire fed on you, they left you enough blood to live off of. And if they for some reason turn you, well, the poison will destroy you from the inside out.”

All her life, Rachel has been hoping the slayers would one day invite her to leave with them, take her to see the world. She knew the life expectancy of a slayer was short, but she would much rather die in some far off land full of strange fruit and tall buildings than die of old age, buried under the old oak behind her house.

But now she knew what the slayers had in mind for her, what her real mission was. She grasped the bottle tightly, thinking of the slayer’s final words to her - “I’m leaving this village in your care. It’s up to you to save them now. Only you can do it.”

Ever since, she had been waiting for the vampires to return.

She had felt hesitant at first, but now that Niero had shown up it felt like fate. All of the vampires had gathered at once, so she could slay them. She cleaned her arms, legs and face with a bucket of water and combed her hair with her fingers, letting it playfully land over the left side of her face, so it completely covered her eye. She also changed into her best clothes. She had a plain but spotless white gown and dark black shoes for special occasions.

She had to look as appetizing as possible, so she was sure the vampires would choose her for their next meal.

Then she uncorked the vial of poison and took a sip. It was astonishingly delicious for something so deadly, sweet and thick like honey, with a prickly aftertaste that somewhat stung her tongue. She was only going to drink a few sips, that way she had a slim chance of surviving the encounter. But if she did that, then there was a chance a vampire might escape.

No! She had to be strong!

She drank the whole bottle and smashed it against a table leg. Then she took an especially sharp sliceof glass and wrapped a bit of cloth around the end, fashioning a makeshift dagger.

“Alright, I’m ready,” she said, finally returning to Niero who had just finished his ale.

“Why, you look simply stunning,” he said, as he rose out of his chair - rose quite literally in fact, his oily black form stretching until he had grown nearly two extra feet. His slick dark hair now brushed up against the ceiling. “I have a feeling this is going to be quite an exciting evening. I’m most excited.”

As the vampire turned to the door, Rachel allowed herself a slight smile.

“Indeed,” she thought, leading Niero to the church. “It will be a very exciting evening. I only wish I’d be around to see it all end.”