“So tell me,” said Niero. “Why do none of you ever leave? I can’t imagine it’s out of loyalty to your vampire keepers.”

Rachel’s house was a mile from the main village, and their walk had been full of uncomfortable silence, the kind that comes from a mouse escorting a cat. Rachel looked up at Niero, whose dark cloak melded almost magically with the darkness, so that his pale face appeared to be levitating in the air.

“One of the vampires is a conjurer,” she answered. “He summoned several hellhounds to patrol the perimeter. Anyone who leaves is never seen again.”

“But isn’t that to be expected?” asked Niero. “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to come back.”

Rachel scowled. She agreed, she would never come back if she ever managed to escape. But she did not appreciate hearing it from a vampire, not when she was about to become a very permanent resident of Bresher village.

“I meant no offense,” added Neiro, sensing her anger. “Your village is quite nice, if you take away the constant fear of death. All I meant to say is, perhaps some managed their escape.

“I said they were never seen again,” said Rachel. “Not that no one ever heard them again.”

“Ah yes,” said Niero, now catching her meaning. “The screaming. I could only imagine.”

The vampire’s floating face seemed to soften, as a pale white hand freed itself from his cloak and reached for Racherl’s neck. She prepared to leap back. But the second the vampire’s fingers touched her skin, she felt an icey shock. It was like being pelted by a particularly hard snowball, thrown by a giant.

This much pain, and his fingers had only just grazed her.

“What is this?” he asked.

He pulled back the hair around her neck.

Rachel knew what he was referring to - a pair of small circular scars, the kind that could only come from a vampire’s bite.

“Nothing,” she said, pulling away. She could tell he wanted to ask more questions, but he nodded politely and drifted away. They did not exchange any more words after that, but Rachel could feel his gaze on the back of her neck, literally. It was the middle of summer, but a cold breeze kept blowing back the hair around her neck, chilling her.

When they finally reached the center of Bresher, almost everyone else had gathered in front of the old church. It was more the outline of a church than anything else, a few stray bricks where the walls used to be, some splintered chunks of wood where the pews once stood. The only part still intact was the bell tower, though it appeared as if it might fall at any moment.

A group of four vampires made their way around the crowd of humans, sniffing at the air and growling. Occasionally they would pretend to lunge at a human, and laugh as their prey fell over or started screaming. They were muscular and bulky, and they hunched over as they moved.

The leader was shorter than the rest, though still stood over six feet tall. He had a bushy black beard, and Rachel remembered one time when a child tried touching it. The boy was too young to know any better. The vampire reflexively grabbed him by the neck and started to squeeze. And he would have certainly popped the boy’s skull open if Rachel had not run up and grabbed him by the arm. She had acted reflexively, and was sure the vampire would kill her, but instead he seemed amused.

“Oh, I’m sorry, young one, go ahead and touch it,” he said, suddenly smiling. He bent down so the child could reach his beard, but by now the child was balling and thoroughly terrified of him. He would never make the mistake of touching a vampire again.

“How about you girl,” he said, turning to Rachel. “You want to touch my beard?”

She certainly did not, but she knew better than to disobey him. He had clearly not decided whether or not he would be eating either of them.

“You know why I grow my beard out like this?” He asked, as Rachel gave it a firm scritch. “It’s because little bits of my victim get trapped in it when I eat, and for the next week, chunks will fall into my mouth. I never know when I’m going to get a little treat.”

He gave her a big grin, and Rachel did her best not to react. She kept eye contact with him for the next four minutes, continuously scratching his beard. The vampire had clearly taken some sort of interest in her, which meant she would live for the time being. But when her death did come, she knew it would be particularly horrible.

“You know something,” said the vampire, rising to his full length. “I’m going to eat you one day. You and that brat.” He glanced at the child, who was still crying hysterically. “But not yet. No, I want you to grow big and strong first.” He gave her the biggest grin yet and patted her on the shoulder, pressing so hard Rachel feared he might push her into the ground. “Become a proper meal, alright?”

That was three years ago now, and the vampire’s beard had grown even bushier since.

The bearded leader sniffed at the air, then motioned to a nearby vampire. They were brothers, Racheel remembered, very similar looking aside from their facial hair (or lack thereof). The brother’s entire head was clean shaven, a series of scars and welts serving as a poor substitute for hair.

Soon all four vampires were staring out at the fields, in the exact direction Rachel and Niero were coming from. They snarled and crouched even lower, as if they were about to lunge.

“Who’s that, skulking about in the shadows?” shouted the leader.

“Relax gentlemen, '' said Niero, raising his hands over his head. “I’m just a weary traveler, same as you, looking for some shelter, and maybe a small meal.” Rachel could not help but notice the way he glanced across the gathered crowd.

The leader stood there for a moment, sizing Niero up. It was hard to tell his size, wrapped in that giant cloak. But the leader seemed confident he could win in a fight, the way he gave his comrades sideways glances, as if to tell them “can you believe this guy?”

“So, you want to poach our crop?” he asked.

“No, not at all,” said Niero. “I would be more than happy to compensate you for your services. I have here several vials of blood, enchanted so that a single vial will fortify your spirits for a full week…”

The leader raised his right hand, the muscles in his arm beginning to stir and flex. “Now, I’m going to have to stop you right there,” he said.

“Whatever for?”

“Well, first off, you’re talking like a human.”

“And do tell, what does a human talk like?”

“Like that! All polite like, throwing in big words.” He grabbed one of the villagers by her hair and lifted her off the ground, letting her dangle and kick helplessly at the air. “It’s like in nature, you ever noticed how the colorful animals are never all that strong? It's the bland looking ones that have claws and fangs and thick muscles.” He poked the human on the cheek, causing her to sway from side to side. “Words are like plumage, you see. They may be pretty, but they’re useless.”

Niero considered this for a moment. “But aren’t you using words right now?”

“Bah! Don’t try outsmarting me! You may be educated, but that just means you’re domesticated. You’re a lap dog, yapping at a pack of hungry wolves.” A barely perceptible haze of purple started to swirl around the vampire. “Know your place.”

“He’s right,” Rachel whispered to Niero. “If he were a little smarter, then maybe you could trick him. But he’s not even listening.”

Niero nodded. Then he reached into his robe, removing a pair of large gleaming weapons. One was an enormous battle axe, the handle engraved with a series of metal skulls. The other was a sword with an incredibly fine edge. They were far more deadly looking than the worn and chipped weapons on the leader’s waist.

“I am sorry,” said Niero. “Perhaps these will be of more interest to you. They’re wasted on a soft vampire such as myself.” He flashed a disarming smile and put the weapons on the ground. “ All I ask for in exchange is a single human.”

The bearded vampire took a while to respond. He clearly wanted to kill Niero, but Rachel saw the way he greedily eyed the weapons. He was probably thinking that he could just kill Niero and take them, but that must have been too much trouble, because eventually he just laughed it off and nodded.

“That’s the thing about being polite,” he said. “It’s what the weak use to get past the strong.” He motioned for his brother to grab the weapons, as he went back inspecting the humans. “Go ahead and take one of the old or sick ones.”

“Actually,” said Niero, grabbing Rachel by the shoulder. “I was thinking of taking this one.”

Rachel tried to grab her makeshift knife, but the vampire’s touch made her body numb and cold, even when he was not touching her skin directly. She collapsed on her knees.

“What?” said the leader, spinning around wildly. “That human is mine. I personally swore I’d kill her myself!”

“I understand that, but…”

“No!” he snarled, a mixture of blood and saliva spilling out of his mouth. “It's like I told you, no fancy words will work on me! I once let a man explain to me for an hour why I shouldn’t kill him. He cited religion, philosophy, he pulled out all these musty old books. He was considered the smartest man in the countryside. And you know what? I still killed him. I found none of it convincing. Sure, I didn’t understand half of it, but that doesn’t matter. Point is, nothing you can say will save you…”

The leader’s underlings surged forwards, catapulting themselves towards Neiro with a single leap, the dirt and grass where they just stood exploding upwards. They shot forwards with such force that they created a blast of wind, strong enough to push Rachel backwards.

She turned around quickly, expecting to see the vampires ravaging Neiro.

Instead, Niero was standing there calmly, holding a vampire head in either hand. “Far too slow,” he said. “It’s unwise to rush an enemy before you know what they’re capable of. I couldn’t be sure before, but now you’ve given away how weak you are.” He began to tighten his grip, and Rachel heard a horrible crunching sound. The two vampires went limp and fell to the ground, turning to ash as they landed.

“Bastard!” shouted the leader.

“I have a question,” said Niero, casually stepping over the piles of ash. “I noticed you taunting the humans earlier. Why were you doing that? It’s common knowledge that stress spoils the taste of blood.”

“Ha!” shouted the leader. “You high society vampires, so worried about taste. There’s more to a hunt than that. We make a game of it! Ten points if the human falls over, twenty if they cry, a full fifty if they piss themselves! It’s good sport!”

“Well then,” said Neiro, his expression darkening. “You really are revolting, aren’t you?”

But before Niero could take another step, there came a great howling from the woods. A dark shape burst out of the forest, landing between the two vampires and kicking up a small cloud of dirt.

Rachel has never seen it properly before, only a brief glimpse of some massive shadow, skulking between the trees. But the hellhound was much more horrific than she had ever imagined. It looked almost like a wolf, only it’s fur was dyed red with blood, which bubbled up and spilled out from various wounds. It’s body was a festering pool of fanged mouths and stray eyeballs. Limbs and bones and various other bits of gore oozed from its underbelly, landing on the grass with a dull plop.

“Oh, you’re in for it now!” shouted the leader. “She’s going to tear you limb from limb, you sad excuse for a vampire.”

Only, the hellhound simply sat there, emitting a horrible growl. Despite being the very picture of violence, it did not seem interested in attacking. It walked around in a circle and then settled down on the grass, pools of blood still leaking from its fur.

“The fuck?” said the leader. “Attack him, you slobbering beast. What in the hell are you waiting for?”

“Hell hounds are fiercely loyal,” said Niero, bowing to the great beast. “But always to the strongest in the pack. She’s waiting to see which of us is stronger.” He turned back to the leader. “But we already know who that is, don’t we?”

“Fuck you!” shouted the leader. He crouched down low, his feet bearing into the ground with such force that the earth started to crack. Then he vanished, only detectable as a dark blurr rushing through the darkness. When he reappeared, his sharp nails were right at Niero’s neck, about to tear through flesh.

But before he could, Niero grabbed his face and threw him back back with so much force he flew into the bell tower, the entire structure exploding into a rain of fractured brick, the bell itself falling straight downwards and crushing the vampire underneath.

“God damn it!” cried the leader, struggling to pull himself out from under the bell. “The fuck?”

“Oh my, you're still alive,” Niero said, approaching the giant bell. “You certainly are powerful, aren’t you? I seriously meant to kill you just now.”

“You piece of shit!”

“Such vulgar language,” said Niero, shaking his head. “You said that being polite was just a way for the weak to get past the strong. Well, someone should have told you - there’s always someone stronger.”

“Fuck you!”

“Very well then.”

Niero raised his hand, presumably to deliver the finishing blow.

But in that moment, the brother of the leader leapt out from the shadows, wielding the giant battle axe he had just collected. By the time Niero turned his head, the battle axe had already left a giant gash in his arm. The wound was clean and deep. The brother tightened his grip and prepared to swing again, but before he could, Rachel lunged at him out of nowhere and pressed her makeshift knife into his chest. Thanks to her training, she had pinpoint accuracy when it came to finding a vampire’s heart.

But unlike in her training, the vampire's hide was thick and powerful. The glass did not dig deep enough to deal any damage to the heart. The vampire easily swatted her aside.

The attack did little more than annoy the vampire.

Thankfully, a moment’s annoyance was enough of a distraction for Niero to plunge his arm straight through the vampire's chest, causing him to instantly burst into dust.

“Well,” said Niero, brushing the vampire remains from his cloak. “That certainly was an exciting evening.”