While once the chirping of the crickets had been a calming sound, now it had become grating to Giradin's ears. A cool breeze rustled the branches of the trees where the plague doctors hid, and an owl hooted in the distance.

Rapid steps on the cobblestone streets caused Giradin's heart to leap, and he readied his seax for the attack.

A stray dog passed by, its fur mangy and ragged. Giradin's heart settled back into its proper place and he lowered his arm.

"Stop jumping at shadows!" Fulk hissed.

"Stop talking!" Mu whispered.

The four of them kept their heads low, crouched on their knees behind the leaf-covered branches. Down the street from them stood a house with a black wreath over the front door. Having gotten closer about half an hour ago, Shlomo had confirmed that the only denizen of this home was a young woman, barely older than marriageable age. They could only assume this was Teebald's widow, and hope their assumption was right.

The sound of leather boots on the cobblestone streets.

Giradin spotted a figure in a black cloak creeping toward the house. Shadows hid the stranger's face, and Giradin caught a glimpse of claw-like nails on its fingertips. The moon cast a long, dark shadow behind the figure, as if it were the shade of a giant.

Is that Teebald?

Giradin tapped Mu on the shoulder and pointed with his hawthorn cross at the cloaked figure. Behind him, he heard Mu's head nod and the other two doctors turn to watch the stranger.

The cloaked figure stopped across the street from the widow's house, and turned toward it. The figure's body rocked back and forth, and Giradin heard a breathy whisper, though he could not make out the words.

Giradin glanced at the other plague doctors, silently asking them if it was time to act. If this was, in fact, Teebald, they needed to do something before the vicious vampire either attacked his widow or disappeared.

But none of his comrades moved.

The chirping of the crickets needled Giradin's brain. Their repetitive songs seeming to mock his inaction. Maybe the others had lost their nerve. Or, perhaps, since they had no leader at the moment, everyone was waiting for someone else to lead the way.

The hooded figure stopped whispering and started to cross the street, toward the front door of the widow's home, and Giradin could wait no longer. He lunged out from hiding and seized the cloaked figure by the arm. He yanked the figure's arm, ready to bring his seax down on its neck if he saw the face of a dead man underneath that hood.

But as he forced the figure to turn, he heard a woman's yelp call out from under the hood, and found himself staring into a face of unearthly beauty. Emerald green eyes gazed up at him with confusion and fear. Hair as black as night fell on either side of full cheeks, and down to a slender neck. Supple, cherry-colored lips quivered with every heavy breath she took. Her skin was paler than most commoners', but even through his gauntlets Giradin knew she was warm to the touch.

Shlomo came out of hiding as well. "You can let her go now!"

Fulk grunted and emerged from the trees. "Shit! Well, there goes our ambush!"

Giradin released the cloaked woman's wrist, and her frightened expression turned to one of anger. She took two steps back from him and spoke in the sweetest voice Giradin had ever heard, "Do you always accost women in the dark?" Her eyes were accusing and furious, but Giradin never wanted them to look away from him. He never dreamed such a woman's gaze would ever fall upon him.

Mujahid stepped forward. "Begging your pardon. My friend... well, he thought you were someone else."

The cloaked woman rolled her eyes, "Oh. That makes it better. If you'll excuse me-- wait! Do you hear that?" Her eyes darted back and forth, and her hand slipped inside her cloak.

The five of them went silent as they listened for whatever had so startled her. After a few moments, Giradin whispered, "I don't hear anything..."

"The crickets have stopped," Fulk muttered.

Waves of ice-cold washed over Giradin. Fulk was right. All chirping had ceased, and the owls made no noise either. The night was deathly quiet.

Then came the sound of approaching footsteps.

The cloaked woman drew a silver dagger from within her cloak and closed her eyes. She muttered strange words, "Spiritibus infra, ostende mihi verum. Spiritibus infra, Ostende mihi verum. Spiritus infra--"

Shlomo fell backward with great force, as if hit by a charging bull. He collapsed flat on his back with a loud thud.

Mu swung out blindly with his scimitar. Then doubled over as something struck him in the gut with a loud thump.

"Spiritibus infra, ostende mihi verum!" The cloaked woman lunged forward with her dagger and thrust it into empty air. The blade disappeared from view, and when she withdrew it again a stream of crimson followed it.

Giradin blinked twice and saw a strange distortion in the air, like the shimmering horizon on a hot summer's day. And from that distortion blood spilled. He heard a sound somewhere between a growl and a rattle.

Smack!

The cloaked woman's face snapped to one side and she tumbled into the cobblestone streets.

With a fierce roar, Giradin leapt upon the invisible foe and hacked at it with his seax. With Giradin on its back, the creature growled and flailed. The hawthorn cross flew from Giradin's fingers. With every swing of Giradin's blade, more red covered the monster's invisible body, pouring from wounds seemingly in the air itself.

A hand gripped Giradin's ankle, and the abomination twisted its body around, throwing Giradin from its back. For a moment, Giradin felt only the rushing wind under his back. Until it connected with the hard streets with a loud crack.

Agony shot up Giradin's spine and into his skull. His vision was awash with colors, even as he forced himself to sit up again.

When his vision returned to normal, Shlomo was on his feet again and repeatedly stabbed the bloody mass in front of him. Fulk beat the same figure with his mace over and over. Mu reached into his coat, produced two vials, and threw them at the monster. When the glass broke, the bloody figure erupted in flames. A chilling shriek filled the air.

With the creature's body illuminated, Mu swung out with his scimitar again, the blade embedding itself in the creature's neck.

The cloaked woman had climbed to her feet again, took a few steps back, and began chanting again, "Spiritibus infra, hac turpi neglegimus tollere quasi unus de creatura tua! Spiritibus infra, hac turpi neglegimus tollere quasi unus de creatura tua!"

Giradin charged in and chopped the back of the creature's neck with his seax. The intense heat from the flames made the weapon red-hot in his hands. The stench of burning hair and flesh seeped its way past his mask and into his lungs.

Fulk picked up Giradin's hawthorn cross and bellowed as he drove it into the creature's chest.

The monster crumbled onto the ground, and all four men hacked, stabbed, and beat it with their weapons over and over while tongues of fire licked the cool night air. The dancing flames cast horrible, shadows on the walls around them. Giradin could swear he saw smiling faces in the shadows and eyes in the blaze itself.

All the while, the cloaked woman continued her chant, "Spiritibus infra, hac turpi neglegimus tollere quasi unus de creatura tua! Spiritibus infra, hac turpi neglegimus tollere quasi unus de creatura tua!"

And the vampire thrashed, flailed, and shrieked, its cries turning Giradin's heart to stone.

Finally, when the flames died down, the scorched and bloody body stopped moving. Giradin brought his seax down one more time and finished the severing of the creature's head.

The cloaked woman's chants stopped, and the four men stood around the remains of their foe. They fought to catch their breath, but in their masks they simply could not take in enough air.

Against his better judgment, Giradin removed his mask and welcomed the soothing night air into his lungs. Soon, all the others did the same. A dry cough forced its way out of Shlomo's throat, and he leaned down to support his hands on his knees.

When Giradin looked up, he saw the doors to many of the houses nearby creak open, and the citizens of Kinhan standing in the doorways with questioning expressions. Giradin forced a smile and nodded his head to tell them everything was alright.

"Where do you think you're going?" Fulk bellowed.

Giradin snapped his eyes back to his comrade, who held the cloaked woman's wrist in his iron grip.

"Let go of me!" she demanded.

Fulk yanked harder on her arm and twisted it, forcing her to her knees. "You have some explaining to do first, witch!"

"Let her go!" Giradin shouted. "She helped us!"

"For all we know, she called that thing here to begin with!" Fulk yelled back. "Shlomo, go ahead of us and rent a room at the inn. Mu, grab her other arm."

Shlomo gave a nod and ran off down the street. Mujahid scurried around to the cloaked woman's other side and took hold of her loose wrist.

Both men hoisted the woman to her feet and forced her to march down the same road Shlomo had taken.

"Don't struggle!" Fulk barked. "Don't make me hurt you. I'm not afraid to beat a woman!"

As Fulk and Mu dragged the cloaked woman away, she glanced over at Giradin for just a moment. In that instant, he saw a pleading look in her eyes, a look which told him he was her only hope. She looked on him as a hero, and she silently begged his help.

No one had ever looked at him like that before.