The two vampires fell toward the street, poofing out of sight about thirty feet up. Twin streaks of black mist drifted down on the last wagon and seeped through the flaps in the back.

“How much you reckon is in here, mate? How much are we riding with?”

One of the two guards in the back, a tall thin man, eyed the chests in the center of the wagon with the glitter of greed in his eyes.

Sitting across from him, a short, a squat fellow opened an eye to glare at him for interrupting a nap.

“Don’t know, don’t care. Now close your yapper and give me some peace, ay?”

He jumped in surprise as an extraordinarily attractive woman materialized on the bench next to him.

Hilda said, “Would you like eternal peace?”

Her hand moved in a blur and ripped out his throat. Without a sound, eyes wide, he slumped to the floor.

The tall man jumped up, reaching for his Mauser propped in a corner. Liza materialized, standing next to him as her mist coalesced. He took a deep breath to yell but she thrust her arm into his stomach and punched up, raking both lungs with her nails. She gripped his heart and ripped it out with inhuman strength.

He collapsed, his middle a bloody pulp.

“They say Umbrians have no heart. Now I see it is true.”

She smiled at Hilda while holding the organ in her fist, blood dripping on the corpse.

Hilda harrumphed.

“My way was cleaner. Look how messy you are. Blood is up to your elbow.”

Liza’s smile fell as she tossed the fleshy organ down on the man’s body.

“It was efficient. And my closing remarks were humorous.”

“It was not funny. Mine were funny.”

“Ha! ‘Eternal peace?’ Oh, I am so amused. Mine was much better. Did you see the look on his face when I showed him his actual heart? He was still alive then, for a moment.”

“Bah. Puns are for schoolgirls.”

“It was not a pun! It was a play on words.”

“It was stupid.”

The sound of a loud thwack carried out of the wagon. The driver frowned, turning to look at the canvas covering behind him, his wide-brimmed flouncy hat swiveling back. He shrugged and let the horses plod forward, keeping the next wagon in sight ahead.

Hilda’s outraged scream could be heard across the entire block. She launched herself at Liza, arms outstretched and fangs bared. The wagon shook as they struggled, slashing and biting one another. The horses flattened their ears, trudging forward more reluctantly now. Canvas bulged out in odd shapes as their bodies bumped and banged against it.

“What in the world is the tussle back there for?” the driver said, turning in the seat. “Oi! This is no time to rumble, lads!”

He pulled back on the reins and stopped, setting the brake. Traffic swarmed around him as the second to last wagon slowly pulled away. The driver hopped down to the cobblestones and made his way toward the back so he could pull back the flap.

Inside, Hilda crouched on top of Liza, long gashes covering her face. She held Liza down with her body, feet on thighs, gripping her sister’s neck with one hand, the other pulled back to strike, fingers curled.

Both women froze and stared at the man as he took in the sight of them, along with the bloody bodies of the two guards. He opened his mouth to yell.

Hilda redirected her swing from Liza’s face to the driver’s. She grabbed him and pulled him inside, fangs sinking into his exposed neck while her other hand reached around back and neatly popped his spine. Stunned and unable to move, the man’s life quickly seeped away as she drank down his blood.

Hilda glared at Liza, still on the floor.

“Now look what you made me do. We have no driver. Get out there and pretend to be him.”

“What? Why do I have to go out there? I hate the sun.”

“He has a hat. And a cloak. Take them, no one will notice. Go.”

“Why is it always your way? You go.”

“I am the oldest.”

Liza glared at her for a moment longer, but Hilda remained unyielding.

She sighed and said, “Let me feed to repair the damage you gave me.”

“Go quickly, sister.”

Moments later, a fully cloaked driver with a big floppy hat stepped out of the flaps and moved to the front. Both accouterments looked far too large for the relatively small person, but no one paid attention as traffic continued passing the wagon in both directions.

Liza climbed up into the driver’s seat and looked around for the brake. Finding it, she struggled with it for a moment until it released.

One horse turned to stare at her, ears lying flat as she took the reins.

“Go, beasts. Or I will drain your blood and bathe in it.”

Reluctantly, the horses pulled forward, wagon boards creaking in protest.

Liza scowled while considering several different ways to murder her sister as she muttered softly to herself.

“No. Not painful enough. No, too quick. She needs to suffer . . . “

She came to an intersection and stopped in the queue, waiting for a police officer to let them through.

“Extra! Extra! Read about Sir Coulter and his bride! What will the fabulous couple do next?”

The newsboy ran up to the wagon. Liza remained hidden under the hat and cloak, her face in shadow.

“Fancy a paper, sirrah?”

She looked down at the upper fold, featuring a large photo of Rip and Blair smiling, holding hands. She snarled and bared her full fangs at the boy.

He yelped and ran back to the newsstand just as the officer waved for Liza’s line to move forward.