“Our host’s dark secret was now laid bare,

Our contest was cruel, and never fair.

But Lord Zaroth was still on the attack,

We knew we needed to get ready and fight back.”

Even as he said it, the revelation horrified Garassk more than he could adequately convey.

“He… he’s what?” Arra said, also clearly shaken.

“I heard him passing by our room the night before the hunt,” Garassk continued. “But I never saw him. I used my dagger as a mirror to see who was coming, but nothing reflected off of it. Everything we’ve seen so far has me convinced that it was him walking by, and that he cast no reflection.”

Arra’s skin went even paler.

“What else? What other proof do you have?” She clearly didn’t want to believe any of it, and he didn’t blame her.

“The biggest werewolf, the leader of the pack, was his personal servant. Everything else we’ve seen here makes sense if we assume I’m right. The fake trees? A wooden stake can kill a vampire, but you can’t make that without real trees. The mass grave? They’re people who failed the hunt. Either the wolves kill them or he does. He hasn’t been seen out of his castle for hundreds of years, despite being alive the whole time. Think about it. It all adds up.”

“You… you’re right,” Arra said, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. “We’re being hunted by a vampire. Gods above, what are we going to do?”

“Get back to the… castle,” Garassk said, trailing off at the realization. His tail started twitching, and he snarled. “We have to act. Fast.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Rathorn is in that castle, and he doesn’t know what’s going on! If we die here, he’s next.”

“Right. We’d better hurry.”

“Hold up a moment,” Garassk said, examining Lycaon’s corpse. “What’s this?”

A few bottles had tumbled out of the pack Lycaon had attached to his waist. Garassk picked it up and examined it.

“What is it?” Arra asked.

“I think they’re healing potions,” he said. “These could come in handy. Check the others.”

She did. Sure enough, all of the wolves carried one.

“Now let’s move!”

The two of them went back to grab the pot. Garassk also pocketed a few bones and they followed the river back to where they’d started. Once the castle was in view, it would be easy to find their way from there. Despite the absence of werewolves, the walk was still unsettling. Dark shapes flew over their heads now and then, and Garassk couldn’t shake the feeling that it might have been Zaroth. Sometimes, it wasn’t even something flying. Sometimes it was them walking under a branch that cast a shadow.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“So how do we fight vampires?” Arra asked. “Since we can’t make a stake?”

“Not sure,” Garassk answered. “I’m pretty sure silver works on them too, but I don’t know if there’s anything else that we can do.”

“So we’ll just have to melt the coins down again?”

“Aye.”

Garassk scanned the castle as they walked, trying to make up his mind when they should stop to melt the coins down. It would have to be soon, but the castle always seemed so far away, no matter how close they got.

He snapped out of his thoughts when one dark shape landed next to them. Arra swung the heavy pot right at it as Garassk thrust his spear. The bat flew away from it, but watched him warily.

“We know that’s you, Zaroth,” Garassk said as the shape moved away. “And that you never intended for us to leave. You can come out now.”

The shape, a bat, covered itself in its own wings. It expanded in size, and then the man threw off a long black cape. He was now clad in black armor, with red streaks that resembled blood dripping down the plates. A skull-shaped helm adorned his head.

“God above,” Arra gasped.

“Attacking your host?” the vampire sneered. “How barbaric. The gods frown upon such acts.”

“You bastard!” Arra screamed.

“I don’t know what kind of gods you worship, but I doubt they’d like you either,” Garassk snarled. “Hunting your guests? Is that how you’ve been spending your life?”

“You’re going to wish you hadn’t said that,” Zaroth sneered. “I don’t know how you managed to kill my werewolves, but you won’t find me so easily felled.”

Arra swung the pot again, only for him to catch her arm, and throw her against a nearby tree. Garassk lashed out with his spear, grazing Zaroth’s cheek, but the dead lord had no reaction. He tried again, and Zaroth snapped the spear with his bare hands.

“Disappointing,” Zaroth sighed, throwing the spear aside with contemptuous ease. He kicked at Garassk, knocking the wind out of him, and sending the varanian to the ground. Garassk grabbed his sword, got up, and swung it against the vampire’s face. Zaroth moved with the blow, but still didn’t seem fazed by it.

Another kick sent Garassk back to the ground, and a few more sent him rolling in pain. He tried to swing his sword again, and even tried to claw at Zaroth when he had the chance, but nothing worked. He might as well have tried going to war with a brick wall using only his fists.

“Your persistence is admirable,” Zaroth said, placing a foot down on Garassk.

That was when Arra came up from behind Lord Zaroth, and ran a dagger on some flint, producing sparks. The vampire shrieked and jumped off of Garassk.

“Let’s get out of here,” Garassk shouted, turning to run as Zaroth struggled to keep the fire away from him. Arra kept pace with him as they headed towards the castle. As they got closer, Garassk noticed a large bat fly above them, and into one of the windows.

“He’s retreated back,” Arra observed.

“No…” Garassk whispered. “It’s a trap.”

“What?”

“He can’t find us, but Rathorn’s still there,” Garassk said, tightening his grip on his sword, and shaking violently. “Zaroth’s probably going to kill him. Either way, once we get there, he’ll have all three of us right where he wants us.”

“Perhaps we should heat up our silver again, and coat our remaining weapons in it before we do anything else?” Arra suggested.

“Sounds like a plan,” Garassk said. “You get the fire going.”

He took bones and dropped them nearby, while Arra started their second fire. The knowledge that Rathorn was in danger made the wait feel like hours, and Garassk thumped his tail impatiently as he waited for the coins to heat up. As soon as the silver was bubbling again, they dipped their daggers, swords, and arrows into it, coating them thoroughly. When that was done, they made their way to the castle.

“Let’s go,” Garassk whispered.