A committee generally governed village operations, but the ultimate authority in town was the mayor. Under the harsh conditions of the Frontier lands, time-consuming and half-hearted operating procedures like parliaments and majority rule would bring death down on the villagers in no time. Monsters, mutants, bandits—the hungry eyes of outside forces were focused relentlessly on Ransylva. And naturally, village operations included the buying and selling of goods. It would be a piece of cake to come up with some reason to suspend a shop from doing business. When it came to the life or death of his business, Old Man Whatley had no choice but bow under duress. For Doris, a hard two-day ride to go shopping in Pedros, the nearest neighboring village, was out of the question under the present conditions. Anyway, it was clear Greco and his cronies would try to stop her.

“You have a lot of nerve, saying a despicable thing like that.

I don’t care if you are the mayor’s son ...” Doris’ voice trembled with rage.

Ignoring that, Greco said, “But if you’d be my wife, all that’d be different. We’ve got it all set up so when my daddy retires, the folks with pull in this town will see to it I’m the next mayor. So, what do you say? Won’t you reconsider? Instead of busting your ass on that rundown farm, you could have all the fancy duds you could ever wear and all you could eat of the classiest fixin’s. Dan would love it, too. And we could run off that creepy punk because I’d protect you from the vampire. If we put the money out there, you’d be surprised how many Hunters’ll show up. What do you say?”

In lieu of an answer, Doris drew closer. Well, look at that—no matter how tough she tries to act, she’s still a woman after all, Greco thought for a split second before a mass of liquid spattered against the helmet’s smoked visor. Doris had spat on him.

“You—you crazy bitch! I try and treat you nice, and you pull this shit!” Greco wasn’t accustomed to using the suit, and his right hand clanked roughly as it mopped his faceplate clean. But then he grabbed at Doris with incredible speed. He had hold of her torso before she had a chance to leap away.

He pulled her into him. Purchased mere hours earlier from a wandering merchant, the combat suit was second-hand and of the lowest grade, but the construction—an ultra-tensile, steel armor built on a base of reinforced, organic, pseudo-skin over an electronic nervous system—increased the wearer’s speed three-fold and gave him ten times his normal strength. Now that Greco had Doris, there was no way she could get away.

“What are you doing? Let go of me,” she screamed, but she only succeeded in hurting her own hand when she slapped him.

Greco had no trouble whatsoever restraining both of Doris’ hands with one of his own, and he hoisted her a foot off the ground. The helmet split down the middle with a metallic rasp. The face peering out at her was that of bald-faced, fiendish lust. A thread of drool stretched from the corner of his lips, which held a little smirk. Doris glared at him indignantly, but he said, “You’re always putting on the airs. Well right here, right now, I’m gonna make you mine. Hey, dumbass, don’t do anything funny and just stay the hell out of this!” With that last remark—roared at the middle-aged bartender who had left the counter to try and break things up—the bartender returned to his post. After all, he was up against the mayor’s son. Eyes bloodshot with lust, Greco’s filthy lips drew close to the immobilized young beauty. Doris turned her face away.

“Let me go! I’ll call the sheriff!”

“That ain’t gonna do much good,” he laughed. “Hell, if it came right down to it, he likes his neck a little too much to stick it out. Hey, the bar is closed now! Someone stand guard so no one comes in.”

“You got it.” One of Greco’s lackeys headed for the door, but then halted abruptly. Suddenly, there was a wall of black in front of him, blocking his path. “What the hell do you—”

His shout was truncated almost immediately, and a split second later, the lackey flew through tables and chairs, crashed into two of his cohorts, and smacked headfirst into the wall. Not that he was thrown at it. The black wall had merely given the man a light push backwards. But his strength must have been inhuman: both the lackey that had gone flying and also the two others he’d hit were all laid out cold on the floor, and some of the plaster had been knocked out of the wall.

“You bastard! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” As the thugs grew pale and reached for the weapons at their waists, the black wall looked at them and shrugged casually.

Easily over six-and-a-half-feet tall, he was a bald giant. Arms, knotted like the roots of a tree, protruded from his leather vest. He must have weighed three hundred and fifty pounds if he weighed an ounce. Judging from the well-worn, massive machete hanging from his belt, the thugs realized their foe had more than just size on his side, and their expressions grew more prudent.

“Please forgive us. My friend here is wholly unfamiliar with the concept of restraint.”

Wriggling in Greco’s embrace, Doris forgot her struggles for a moment and turned toward the newcomers only to have her eyes open wide with surprise. The voice had been beautiful, but the man himself positively sparkled.

His age must have been around twenty. He had gorgeous black hair that spilled down to his shoulders, and deep brown eyes that seemed ready to swallow the world, leaving all who beheld them feeling gloriously drunk. The youth was an Asian Apollo. He, along with the giant and two other companions, seated himself at a table.

The only other people in the Black Lagoon aside from Greco and his gang, the newcomers began to amuse themselves with a game of cards. If the keen glint in their eyes was any indication, they had to be traveling Hunters of some confidence.

“What the hell are you fools supposed to be,” Greco asked, still holding Doris.

“I am Rei'Ginsei, the Serene Silver Star. My friend here is Golem the Tortureless. We’re Behemoth Hunters.”

“The hell you are,” Greco bellowed, as he looked the four of them over. “You’re telling me you hunt those big ol’ behemoths with so few people? A baby behemoth can’t even be killed without ten or twenty guys.” He laughed scornfully. “Granted, you’ve got that big bastard, but that still leaves you with a sissy boy, a pinhead, and a fucking hunchback. So please help me out here—how exactly does a bunch of rejects like you hunt anyway?”

“We shall show you—here and now,” Rei'Ginsei said with his sun-god smile. “But before we do, kindly release the young lady. If she were ugly, it might be another matter, but to treat a beautiful woman in such a manner is a grave breach of etiquette.” “Then why don’t you make me stop, you big, bad Hunters?” The vermilion lips that framed his pearly white teeth bowed with sorrow. “So that’s how it’s to be then? Very well...”

“Okay, come on then.¹”

Greco was used to getting into fights, but the reason he forgot the power of his combat suit and threw Doris aside with all his might may have been because he had some inkling of how the coming battle was going to end.

Unable to prepare for her fall, Doris struck her head on the edge of a table. When she regained consciousness she was held in a pair of powerful arms, and matters had already been settled. “Ow, that hurts,” she said, rubbing her forehead.

Rei'Ginsei gave her a gentle smile and swept her up off the floor. “We dealt with those ruffians. I’m not completely clear on the situation here, but I think leaving before the sheriff is summoned might avoid complications.”

“Um, yeah, you’re right.” Due to her throbbing headache her answer was muddled, but Doris noticed the sharp squeak of

wood-on-wood behind her and turned around in time to be utterly astonished. Every last one of Greco’s hoodlums was laid out on the floor. Despite the pain in her head, Doris was still sharp enough to notice something strange about them almost instantly.

The arms and legs of the two sprawled closest to her on the floor had been bent back against the elbow and knee joints and were twisted into horrific objets d’art. Most likely, the hoodlums had fallen victim to Golem’s monstrous strength, but what caught Doris’ eye were the remnants of a longsword and a machete lying near them. She wasn’t sure about the machete, but the longsword was definitely a high-frequency saber with a built-in sonic frequency wave generator, able to cut through iron plate. Both weapons were shattered down to the hilt as if they’d tried to chop through a block of steel.

Just behind one of the round tables squirmed Greco’s right-hand man, O’Reilly. He was known for his skill with a revolver; once, Doris saw him knock a bee out of the air from fifty yards with his quick draw. When she’d seen him last, he was already going for his gun. When one of the four came at him, the barrel of his weapon should have spit flame in less than three-tenths of a second. Yet here he was, sprawled face-down on the floor with his hand still locked around the pistol grip. But what truly made Doris shudder was the location of the wound that felled him. The back of his head was split open. One of the four—well, perhaps not Golem but one of the other three—had got behind him and dealt the blow without giving him the three-tenths of a second he needed to work his quick draw.

Diagonally across from O’Reilly someone else raised his head. Doris felt as if all the blood had drained from her body. The first three thugs who’d been slammed into the wall were still unconscious, and they could be considered lucky for that. The remaining man’s face looked like it’d been stung by vicious killer bees—his skin was swollen with dark red pustules that dripped a

steady stream of discharge onto the floor. Though Doris didn’t notice it at first, at that very moment a black insect crawling across the floor stopped at her feet, scurried a little closer, and then walked right past her as if someone was calling it back. It was a tiny spider. It went from the leather sandals of the hunchback to his leg, then climbed farther up his back to a massive hump, covered by a leather vest. Both the vest and the hump split right down the middle, and the spider disappeared into the fissure. The fissure closed promptly.

“Surprised? I fear it may be too much of a shock for a beautiful young woman like yourself...”

Doris heard Rei-Ginsei’s voice as if from a distance, like the pealing of a bell, for her soul had been stolen when she saw the most frightening outcome of the whole unearthly battle: she saw Greco, the only one unharmed, still seated in his chair with his hands locked around the armrests and the expression of a dead man on his face. The squeak of wood-on-wood she had heard was the sound of his trembling body rattling the legs of the chair against the floor. Whatever he’d witnessed from the safety of his combat suit, it had thrown his eyes wide open, and they reflected nothing but paling terror.

“What’d you guys do?” Doris asked in a firm voice when she finally looked back at Rei-Ginsei and slipped from his arms.

“Not a thing.” Rei-Ginsei made a mortified expression. “We simply finished what they started—in our own inimitable style, of course.”

“Thank you,” Doris said gratefully. “I truly appreciate your help. If you’re going to be in town a while, I’d like to do something to thank you later.”

“Don’t trouble yourself about it. There is nothing in this world more profane than the ugly making the beautiful submit by force. They merely got a taste of heaven’s wrath.”

“You flatter me, but would you have done the same for another girl if she was being treated the same way?”

“Of course I’d come to her aid. Provided she was beautiful.” Doris averted her eyes from the calmly smiling face of the gorgeous man. “Well, thank you again. Now if you’ll excuse me.” “Yes, allow us to take care of this mess. We’re well accustomed to it.” As Rei-Ginsei nodded jovially, something black gushed into his gaze. “I’m quite sure we’ll meet again.”

A few minutes later, Doris had the wagon racing back toward the farm.

“Did something happen back there, Sis?”

Her distant expression didn’t change at the concerned query from Dan, who rode shotgun. The anxieties running amuck in her mind wouldn’t allow her a smile.

She could only expect that Greco would make things even harder for her now, and on top of that she had no guarantee D would be back tonight. She just knew she should’ve stopped D when he told her he was going into the lord’s castle during the day to take advantage of the dhampirs’ ability to operate in daylight. If he didn’t make it back, they would be left helpless and alone before the Count’s next onslaught. She had no proof the Count would come tonight, but she was pretty sure of it. Doris shook her head unconsciously. No, that would mean D was dead.

I know he’s coming back, she thought.

Her right hand brushed the nape of her neck. Moments before he’d set out, D had put what he said was a charm on the fang marks there. The charm was disappointingly simple, consisting merely of a light press of the palm of his left hand to the wound; he hadn’t even explained what effect it was supposed to have, but it was all Doris had to rely on now.

Another face formed in her mind. That dashing young man in the saloon could also be considered her savior in a way, but Doris felt an ominous shadow fall across her heart. When he’d lifted her from the floor and she saw his handsome visage up close, she had in truth swooned. But her virgin instinct had caught the sickly sweet smell of rotting fruit that lingered around his gorgeous face.

No, most likely it wasn’t her instinct that caught it, but rather the work of something firmly etched in a deeper part of her: the visage of a young man more beautiful and more noble than Rei-Ginsei. Doris had a foreboding that the handsome new arrival would prove a greater danger to her than Greco had. That was another of her concerns.

Come back. I don’t care if you can’t beat the Count, just come back to me.

That these thoughts had nothing to do with her safety was something the seventeen-year-old had not yet noticed.

For the past few minutes, the tepid, waist-deep water had been growing warmer, and the mist licking its way up the stony walls had become denser. He had been walking for thirty minutes now. The drop from the great hall must have been around seventy feet. A vast subterranean aqueduct brimming with water had awaited D. As the water only came up to his chest, it didn’t matter much that he’d fallen feet first—what had saved D from a brutal impact was his inhuman skill, and the indisputably superhuman anatomy all dhampirs possessed.

Vampire anatomy—primarily their bones, muscles, and nerves—allowed them to absorb impact and recover from damage hundreds of times better than humans could. While it naturally varied from individual to individual, dhampirs inherited at least fifty percent of those abilities. From a height of seventy feet, a dhampir could probably hit solid ground and survive. It would be nigh impossible to keep from breaking every bone in their body and rupturing some internal organs, but even then some of the faster dhampirs would be able to heal completely in about seventy-two hours.

At any rate, D hadn’t been hurt in the least, and he stood chest-deep in the black water surveying his surroundings. This was most likely a pre-existing subterranean cavern that had been buttressed through later construction. Places here and there on the black, rock walls to either side showed signs of being repaired with reinforced concrete. The water throughout was lukewarm, and a pale, white mist lent the air an oppressive humidity. The aqueduct itself was roughly fifteen feet wide. It seemed to be a natural formation, and an odor peculiar to mineral springs had reached D’s nostrils even as he was falling into the pit. All around him stretched a world of complete darkness. Only his dhampir eyesight allowed him to distinguish how wide the aqueduct was. He turned his gaze upward, but, not surprisingly, he was unable to discern the trapdoor seventy feet above. As the doors had long since been reset, it was only natural he couldn’t see them. And of course there was no means of egress to be seen on the rock walls that boasted mass beyond reckoning.

“What to do, what to do ...,” D muttered this rare comment in a deep voice, yet started walking purposefully in the direction from which the water all around him flowed, though the flow was soundless and so gentle as to be imperceptible.

Hard and even, the bottom of the aqueduct seemed to be the work of some external force. That wasn’t to say that he had merely to walk long enough and far enough for an exit to present itself. He was unaware of the three sisters the Count had mentioned so ominously in the chamber far above.

Something was waiting for him.

D was cognizant of that much. And he knew that his thrust had dealt a wound to the Count. There was no way the vampire lord would let such a fearsome opponent just drop into the subterranean waterway and then sit idly by. D was positive some sort of attack was coming. And yet, as he walked along, there was no hesitation in the legs that carried him across the firm

bottom of the aqueduct, and no hint of tension or fretfulness in the shining, handsome face that seemed to make the darkness retreat. And then he halted.

About twenty-five feet ahead, the aqueduct grew wider and a number of eerily shaped stones jutted from the water’s surface. There alone the mist was oddly thick—or rather, it hung so heavily it seemed to rise from the very waters, twisting the stones into far more outrageous and disturbing shapes and sealing off the waterway. The air bore a foul stench of decay. D’s eyes saw a film of oily scum covering the water and white things concealed in the recesses of the stones. Bleached bones. Deep in the mist there was a sharp splash, like a fish flicking its tail up out of the water.

There was something here. Its lair was beyond the eldritch stones.

Still, D showed no sign of turning back, and he continued walking calmly into the mist at the center of the stones. Once inside, the space between the stones looked like a sort of pool or a fishpond. The stones formed rows to either side that completely enclosed the waterway. The water sat stagnant there, blacker than ever, and the white mist eddied savagely. It seemed the source of the mineral springs wasn’t too far off. The more he advanced, the greater the number of eldritch stones, and, as the number of bones multiplied, the stench grew ever more overpowering. Most of the bones were from cattle and other livestock, but human remains were also evident. There was a skeleton that, judging from the quiver on his back, looked to be a huntsman, a woman’s skull resting in the tattered remnants of a long dress, and the diminutive bones of a child. Many of them hadn’t had time to be denuded; dark red meat and entrails hung from their bones, rife with maggots. In this vile, disturbing scene—a scene that would make the average person go mad or stop, paralyzed with fear—D noticed the spines and ribs of all the stark skeletons had been pulverized. This was not the

result of being gnawed by tenacious fangs and jaws. They’d been crushed. Like something had squeezed them tight and twisted them ways they were never meant to go.

Once again, D halted.

There was another splash, this time much closer. The whine of a blade leaving its sheath rose from D’s back. At the same time, ripples formed on the surface a few yards ahead of him, and a white mass bobbed to the surface. And just after that, another one bobbed to the right. Then one to the left. Unearthly white in the darkness—they were the heads of carnal, alluring women.

Perhaps D had lost his nerve, because he stood stock-still instead of holding his sword at the ready. The women gazed at him intently. Their facial features were distinct, but all were equally beautiful, and the red lips of the three women twisted into broad grins. Far behind them there was another sharp splash. Perhaps these three swam this way to escape whatever was chasing them? If that was the case, the way they kept all but their heads submerged after meeting D was quite out of the ordinary. And the grins they wore were so evil, so enticing. He looked at them and they at him for a few seconds. With the sound of a torrent of drops, the three women rose in unison. Their heads came up to the height of D’s. And then above his—far above.

Who in the human world could imagine such an amazing sight? Three disembodied but beautiful heads smiling down charmingly at him from a height of ten feet. These women had to be the three sisters the Count had mentioned.

At that point, D said softly, “I’ve heard rumors about you. So you’re the Midwich Medusas I take it?”

“Oh, you know of us, do you?” The head in the middle, which would be the eldest sister, wiped the smile from her face. Her voice was like the pealing of a bell, but it also dripped with venom. However, it wasn’t the fact that the dashing young man before them seemed to recognized them for what they truly were

that gave her voice a ring of surprise, but rather because there wasn’t a whit of fear in his words, so far as she could detect.

The Midwich Medusas. These three women—or these three creatures—were supernatural beasts of unrivaled evil that fed on the lust of young men and women. They had devoured hundreds of villagers in a part of the Frontier known as Midwich. Years earlier, they’d supposedly been destroyed by the prayers of an eminently virtuous monk passing through the region, but, unknown to all, they had escaped. After a chance encounter with Count Lee, they agreed to take up residence far below his castle on the condition they received three cows per day. Unlike the faux monsters the Nobility engineered, nothing could be more difficult to destroy than a true demon like this one. The Medusas had survived tens of thousands of years and had even outlived their own legend. Like the hydra of ancient myth, the three heads of the Medusas, which appeared to be separate, were in fact joined a few yards down in a massive pillar of a torso clad with scales of silvery gray that remained sunken in the water. The splashing sounds to their rear came from the end of the torso—a tail that thrashed in delight at finding prey.

But D could only see the women’s heads. The reason he knew what they really were was because he’d recognized the heads of three beautiful women as the objects of one of the many bizarre rumors out on the Frontier. But the real question was, why did they melt into the darkness below the neck?

“He’s a fine specimen, sisters.” The whispers from the head on the right sounded deeply impressed, and she licked her lips. Her red flame of a tongue was slim, and the tip was forked. “At long last, we have a man worthy of our pleasuring. And not just a pretty face, either—look at how muscular he is.”

“Sisters, you can’t have him first,” the third head—the one on the left—declared. “Just five days ago, the two of you fed on the huntsman who wandered in here while I was asleep. This

time I shall be first. First to take him to the heights of rapture, and first to taste his blood when he hits that peak.”

“The nerve of you! We are your elders,” the head on the right—and apparently the second-in-command—bellowed.

“Stop your sibling quarrels,” the middle head scolded them, turning to the head on the left. “You may be the first to drink of his blood. However, the three of us shall pleasure him together.” “Yes.”

“I’m amenable to that.”

Without another word the three heads nodded in agreement. Little flame tongues flicking in and out and the women fondled every inch of D with smitten eyes.

“But be on guard,” the oldest sister said quite plainly. “This man does not fear us.”

“Rubbish! Could anyone know what we are and not tremble? When we grew angry at our meager repasts and bared our fangs, did not the Count himself beat a hasty retreat, never to return to our realm again?” asked the second sister.

“Even supposing that he is not afraid, what could he do? Manling, can you move?”

D remained silent. In truth, he couldn’t move. From the first moment he laid eyes on the women’s heads, his whole body had been gripped by countless hands.

“Do you comprehend, manling,” the second sister went on. “That’s our hair at work.”

Exactly. The reason why the necks and torso of the Midwich Medusas melded with the darkness was because everything below their jaws was hidden by black hair that fell in a cascade of tens of thousands of strands, shrouding the rest completely. However, this was no ordinary hair. Once on the water’s surface, the strands spread out like tentacles, drifted about, and when they felt the movement of something in the lair, in accordance with the will of the three sisters, they would lure the prey into the center. Then, when the appropriate time came, they could wrap around the

victim’s limbs in a split second and rob the victim of his freedom with the strength of piano wire.

And that wasn’t all. The truth was, it wasn’t water that was in the three sisters’ stone-bordered den. The eldritch stones diverted the aqueduct and sent the water flowing around either side, while their lair was actually filled with a secretion from the hair itself. The liquid flowed subtly to complement the gently swaying movements of the hair, swirling it around, and even D—with a sense of touch far more sensitive than that of humans—hadn’t been alerted to the presence of the strands. Unbeknownst to D, the hair had crept up from his waist and wrapped itself around his wrists and upper arms, as well as his shoulders and neck, completely restraining his limbs.

Even more disturbing, the rest of those countless hands—nay, tentacles—had started slipping in through the cuffs and seams of his clothes, creeping across him, rubbing against his naked flesh, teasing him, plotting to make D a slave of inflamed desire. No matter how resolute their will, a person’s reason would dissolve after a few seconds of these delicate movements, reducing them to lust-driven mindlessness—this was the Midwich Medusas’ obscene torture, and no one could resist it.

“Well, have you come to crave us?” the oldest sister asked. “Ordinarily, we would take your life at this point. Like so.” With her words as their signal, the three heads twisted through the air to part their locks. The black cataract changed its course, and three lengthy necks striped with black and blue, as well as the massive torso that supported them, came into view. The torso was so thick, two grown men would have trouble reaching around it. The long necks swooped down at D, wrapping around and around the powerfully built man held captive by the bonds of their black hair. For its part, the hair continued its tiny wriggling movements below D’s clothes.

“We can break your bones whenever it suits us,” the oldest sister said, her red eyes ablaze as she stared at D’s face. The

fire in her eyes was an inferno of lust. “But you’re such a gorgeous man. Such a well-proportioned man.” Her tongue licked D’s cheek.

“Verily. Lo these past three centuries we’ve not seen one so beautiful.” The moist lips of the second sister toyed with D’s earlobe from behind. Her hot, rank breath blew into his ear.

“But we won’t kill you. The three of us will see to it you taste more than your share of unearthly rapture, and then drain you to the marrow.” The youngest sister fairly moaned the words.

The source of the Midwich Medusas’ life was not only the energy they derived from the consumption of living organisms. With bizarre abilities only demons possessed, they reduced strapping men and lovely women in the bloom of youth to wanton creatures aching with desire, then imbibed the aura of pure rapture the victims’ radiated at their peak—this was the secret of the three sisters’ immortality, and this was how they had lived on since before the vampires, since the ancient times when humans ruled.

Of course, that wasn’t to say they would feed on just anyone. The sisters were gourmands in their own way. Though the Count had sent hundreds of people into the subterranean world, and still others had wandered in from various entrances, the sisters hadn’t tasted pleasure like this for centuries, and had devoured their victims’ flesh greedily but joylessly year after year. Now the time had come for pleasure to burn through their shared body once again. A heady blush tinged the three beautiful faces, their eyes danced with flames, and the hot breath spilling from their vermilion lips threatened to melt D’s frostily gorgeous visage.

“Well now,” the oldest sister fairly moaned. Three sets of damp, bewitching lips closed in on the firm iron gate that was D’s mouth.

The instant their lips met his, the sisters saw it. They saw the crimson blood-light glinting from D’s eyes. It dealt a mysterious blow to their wicked minds. In that instant, the three sisters felt a

sweet thrill racing through their body, the likes of which they’d never experienced before.

“Oh, those lips,” the oldest sister said in a husky voice.

“Show me your throats,” a low, rusty voice commanded.

Without time to comprehend it was D’s voice they heard, the sisters raised their necks as one and brought the slick white base of their throats to D’s lips. Something told them there was no other way to snuff the feverish excitement gnawing its way through their bodies. The Midwich Medusas’ wits were no longer functioning properly.

“Undo your hair.”

D’s limbs were immediately set free. His right hand returned his sword to its sheath while his left scooped up a fistful of hair.

“A trap baited with pleasure—but who caught whom?” Before his muttered words had faded, D dropped the strands he held and pulled the three lengthy necks to himself with both arms. “I don’t like doing this, but it’s the only way to find a way out of here. Someone’s waiting for me.” As he spoke, his eyebrows suddenly rose and his eyes rolled back. His lips spread wide, exposing a pair of fangs. Brutal and evil, his visage was that of a vampire.

There in the darkness, what happened in the moments that followed?

The cries of the women melded with the repeated splash of their tail beating the water’s surface, suggesting unearthly delights had just taken mastery of them. It was the sisters who had blundered into the pleasure-baited trap. Before long, there was the sound of something heavy dropping into the water three times in succession, and then D quickly gave the command: “Arise.”

Twisting their torso and serpentine necks, the three sisters rose again. A hollow shadow clung to their countenances, and their bloodshot eyes were as damp as the mist, as desire choked the vitality from them. And it was truly eerie how their glistening, greasy faces were completely bloodless, with a luster like paraffin.

At the base of each of the three necks a pair of deep red dots could be seen. Fang marks.

Who could have known the demonic blood slumbering within D would awaken at the last possible second? He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Now, as his gorgeous countenance returned to the cool mountain spring it always was, he commanded the three sisters to lead him to an exit in a voice that resembled a moan of pain.

The three heads bobbed wordlessly in midair, then moved off into the darkness. As D followed them and vanished into the darkness also, a taunting voice could be heard from around his waist. “No matter how you hate it, you can’t fight your blood. That’s your destiny—and you know it deep in your bones.”

In a split second came the response. “Silence! I don’t remember telling you to come out! Get back in there!”

The angry shouts clearly belonged to D. So, who had been speaking before ? What could D have meant by those strange expressions? And most of all, why had his ice-cold exterior shattered, even if only for a moment?

While the edge of the plains swallowed the last bit of afterglow from the sunset, and Doris continued waiting for D, Dr. Ferringo’s buggy pulled up to her house. Doris was somewhat embarrassed, and tried to get the doctor to leave. Doctors were far too precious on the Frontier for her to put one in such danger. After all, this fight was hers and hers alone. She’d mixed a sedative in with Dan’s dinner and he was already fast asleep. That was probably the best thing to do with him, since a Noble stalking their prey wouldn’t even spare a glance at anyone who wasn’t in their way.

“Um, Doc, I’m a little busy today with stuff here on the farm,” Doris called preemptively from the porch.

But the doctor responded, “That’s quite all right, I don’t mind. I was just out on a house call—could I trouble you for a

glass of water?” Dispelling her objections with a wave of his hands, he went ahead and opened the door, trotted into the living room, and installed himself on the sofa.

He’d been a friend of her late father, he’d brought Doris and Dan into the world with his own two hands, and since the death of their parents to this very day, he’d helped them in countless ways. Because of this, Doris couldn’t very well toss him out on his ear. To make matters worse, for some reason he began to recount his youthful adventures battling supernatural creatures—or “the damned things,” as he liked to call them-—and Doris had no recourse but to sit and listen attentively. He must’ve been aware the Noble would most likely be coming for her, so she had to wonder why he seemed so dead set on hanging around.

Night rolled closer with each passing minute, and D wasn’t back yet. The moment the sun set, Doris resolved to fight alone. All the armaments and traps spread across the farm had been double-checked, but she only grew more afraid. And now she had not only herself but the physician to worry about as well.

No matter what happens to me, I’ve got to protect Doc at all costs. Please, don’t let him strike till after Doc has gone.

As she made this wish, another concern annoyingly crept up on her.

No matter what happens, I can’t let myself think about that.

If he makes me one of them, what’ll happen to Dan? He can’t live the rest of his life knowing his only blood relative is one of the Nobility—that’s just too big a burden to carry. Nothing doing, Doris. Get your arms and legs ripped off trying if you have to, but fight that bastard off. The bravery she mustered only lasted a heartbeat before sinking into the shadow of her fears. Coupled with centuries of psychological conditioning, the horror of actually falling victim to the pernicious fangs of the Nobility had more than enough dark power to daunt a young girl of

seventeen, no matter how distinguished a fighter she may have been.

When the hands on the clock indicated nine thirty Night, Doris finally came out with it. “Well, Doc, I think I’m gonna turn in now.” So please hurry up and go home—this much Doris implied, but Dr. Ferringo showed no signs of rising. Instead, he said something that shocked her senseless.

“You’ll have a dangerous customer paying you a call real soon.” “That’s right, Doc, so you’d best be on your way—”

“My, but you are a sweetie,” the elderly physician said, showering her with a gaze of boundless affection. “But there’s a time and a place for restraint. You don’t have to be that way with me. Seventeen years ago, I brought you into this world with my own two hands, and you’ve always been like a daughter to me, haven’t you? Now this old fool ain’t the sort to just stand by while a young lady does battle with a demon straight from hell.” As Doris stood at the door to the living room watching the old man, her eyes glistened softly with tears. “Don’t look so down in the mouth,” the old man said jovially. “I may not look it, but it was yours truly that taught your father the tricks of the Werewolf Hunting trade.”

“I know that. It’s just—”

“If you know it, then why don’t you stop your blubbering? Of course, it is interesting to see a little spitfire like you squirt a few tears from time to time. Anyway, where’s that young fellow? You hired him for protection, but when night started coming on, he probably took to his heels, I suppose. He was a spooky character, that one, but he turned out to be a worthless drifter, did he?”

“No, he didn’t!” Up to that point Doris stood silently, touched by his words and nodding in agreement, but this sudden about-face, and her exclamation, made the elderly physician jump in his seat. “That’s not the sort of man ... uh, I mean, he’s not the kind to do that. No, sir. The reason he’s not here tonight is because

he went into the Count’s castle alone. And he hasn’t come back yet. I just... Something’s happened to him, I just know it...”

An ineffable light sparked in Dr. Ferringo’s eyes. “So you were kind of... Now I see ... I didn’t know you felt that way about him.” Doris regained her composure and hastily wiped at her tears. “What do you mean by that? It’s not like I... I mean ...”

The physician grinned at the young girl as a rosy blush suffused her face. Then he made a gentle wave of his hands. “Okay, okay. My mistake. If you think that much of him, then we needn’t worry about him. I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Until he does, what do you say to working up the nerve to capture the Count?” “Sure,” Doris said with a cheery nod, then suddenly, with great apprehension, she asked, “How are we gonna do that?”

There was no precedent for a human capturing a member of the Nobility—-a vampire. Battles between the two species were normally a matter of kill or be killed. It went without saying that one side ended up dead more often than not. Particularly when doing battle at night, in the Nobility’s element, the respective weapons and abilities of the combatants made the outcome painfully obvious.

“With this.” The elderly physician produced a small glass bottle from his faithful medical bag. It was filled to its corked neck with yellowish granules.

“What in the world is that?” Doris’ tone was a jumble of expectation and misgivings.

Dr. Ferringo didn’t answer, but rather pulled a battered envelope from the same bag and unfolded the letter it contained. He held it out to Doris.

The second she laid eyes on the characters scrawled in sap-based ink on the yellowed paper, Doris turned to the physician with a perplexed expression. “This handwriting ... My father wrote this ...”

His hoary head bobbed in agreement. “Your dear father used to send me these while he was out on the road honing his fighting skills, back before your brother and you were born. But this was the last of them. If you read it, you’ll see that it relates an encounter between your father and a vampire.”

“My father and a vampire?” Doris forgot everything else and began poring over the letter. The first sentence or two informed the reader he’d arrived at his lodging. Then, the very characters themselves became jumbled with excitement and fear.

I’ve found it. The bastard’s weakness is at...

That was all there was. After the last character, the rest of the sheet was just a lonely expanse of rough, yellowed paper.

Doris fixed a confused gaze on the elderly physician. “Why didn’t my father finish what he was writing? Was there anything in any of his other letters?”

The physician shook his head. “While your father was writing that letter in his lodgings, he was attacked by a vampire, but he fended it off. There can be no doubt your father somehow discovered some weakness of theirs. That much he stated plainly in another letter. The point is, he fought off the fiend, put his mind to order, and had just taken up a pen to record his discovery when he realized he’d completely forgotten what that discovery was.” “Are you serious? How could that happen?”

“I’ll address that later. At any rate, less than five minutes after the danger had passed, your father found himself standing like a zombie with a pen in his hand. Like a man possessed, he sifted through his memories, wracked his brain, and eventually even tried to reenact his own half of the engagement, but all his efforts were for naught. The vampire appeared and they scuffled. Then, when all hope seemed lost, he narrowly managed to make his foe take flight—that much he could clearly recall, but the form of that decisive attack and manner in which he’d learned it were completely expunged from his memory.”

“But why? How did that happen?”

Ignoring the same question from Doris a second time, the physician went on. “We had that last little ‘t’ as a hint, but your father never did figure out what that was supposed to stand for. He wrote again about how the situation developed in another letter and sent it along to me, entrusting me to make something out of it. Unfortunately, I failed to live up to his expectations ...”

“Well if that’s the case,” Doris said, completely forgetting the danger creeping steadily closer and whipping herself into a frenzy, “all we have to do is solve the mystery of the little ‘t’ to find out what the Nobility’s weakness is, right?” Her voice trembled with expectation, but it quickly withered. She recognized that the shadow clinging to the face of the elderly physician said that the situation was not merely grave, but close to hopeless.

In the past, attempts to learn a definitive way to protect themselves from vampires had been tried time and again, but all of them had proved fruitless. Though humans must have had ample opportunity to learn that secret in the countless conflicts that raged ever since their species lost the right to rule the world, not one such method had been passed down to posterity. Now, ages had passed since anyone had even tried to discover them.

“The Nobility is going to beat us after all, aren’t they? I mean, if they don’t have any weaknesses ...”

As Dr. Ferringo heard Doris’ words crawling across the floor like a beaten dog, he shook his head and stated firmly, “No. If that were the case, we wouldn’t have these rumors being passed down all these years that there are things that can hurt them. Didn’t your own father state he managed to drive a vampire off in some manner or other? Your father wouldn’t have lied to save his own life. I’ve heard tell of knights and travelers who’ve had experiences similar to his, and I’ve even spoken to a few in person.”

“And did you find out anything?”

“No, all of them had the same thing happen that your father did. They escaped the loathsome fangs of the fiend by some means ... or rather, they forced the fiend to escape. And yet,

despite that, not one of them could recall anything at all about what they’d done.”

Doris was speechless.

“More recently, I’ve been tempted to view these rumors of a weakness in the Nobility as legends born of wishful thinking, but I plowed through a mountain of records, and based on the actual cases I could assemble, I’m positive that a weakness does in fact exist. People simply can’t remember what it is. In my view, it’s a kind of manipulation of our memories.”

“Manipulation of our memories?” Doris knit her brow.

“To be more precise, perhaps we could call it a selective and automatic editing of our memories. To wit, our minds have been programmed to automatically erase all memories of a certain kind.”

“You mean, memories of their weaknesses? Of weapons that can drive them off?” Unconsciously, Doris was trying to peek inside the old man’s head. Was that what the powder in the bottle really was?

Watched by eyes that were a battlefield between hope and uncertainty, the physician went on undeterred. “Remember, we’re talking about the bastards who ruled the world for ten thousand years. I’m sure it would be mere child’s play for them to alter human DNA and reprogram our minds to selectively weed out any memories of those sorts. That’s a theory that’s been around for quite some time, and based on my own research, I’ve taken up with that camp. I’m not usually the type to go along with theories when I don’t know the folks behind them, but what’s right is right. That being the case, the rest is simple.”

“The rest being?”

“All we have to do is bring those memories back.”

Doris gasped. “Can you really do that?”

The physician looked very pleased with himself as he rolled the bottle in question in the palm of his hand. “Here we have the

fruit of that very endeavor. I hypnotized a dozen of the men and women I interviewed, and tried to regress them with the help of reenactment-stimulating drugs I procured from the Capital.

What I have here is something two of them mentioned. You see, even with all their science, the creatures of the night couldn’t completely erase our memories.”

Doris noticed that the physician seemed to hesitate at the last sentence, but couldn’t fathom why. She pursued a different matter instead. “But if what you say is true, Doc, won’t the two of us lose all memory of that powder soon?”

“No, I’ve been fine so far. Again, this is purely a hypothesis, but the loss of memory only occurs when the subconscious mind has actual proof that we’ve discovered a weakness of the damned Nobility. In our heart of hearts, neither you nor I completely believe in the efficacy of this powder. As a result, the enemies’ programming hasn’t gone into action, either.”

“Then why don’t we just write it down somewhere?”

“That wouldn’t do any good. On reading it, even the person who wrote it would take it as the deluded ravings of a madman.” A somewhat deflated Doris changed her tack. “So is that powder the same little ‘t’ thing that was in my father’s letter?” Once again the physician shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I’ve given the matter much consideration, but I simply can’t connect the powder with that initial. Some might say your father, overwhelmed by the excitement of this great discovery, miswrote it, but I don’t believe that’s the case. The reason I don’t is because most of the other interviewees failed to mention the powder as well. I think it’s safe to assume the letter ‘t’ refers to something else entirely.”

“But if some of them could remember the powder, why didn’t they remember the other thing?”

Dr. Ferringo faltered. And then he began to speak in the gravest tone Doris had ever heard. “I’ve always felt there was something somewhat ironic about human/Nobility relations—in

the Nobility’s view of humanity, to be specific. In your present circumstances, I can’t expect you to appreciate this, but they may well feel a kind of affection toward us.”

“What the hell! The Nobles think they’re our friends?

That’s ridiculous!”

Rougher than her tone was the way Doris’ hand tugged at the scarf around her neck. For the first time in her life, she glared at the elderly physician. “I don’t care who you are, Doc, that’s... I just don’t have the words... ”

“Don’t pull such a face.” The physician waved his hands in an attempt at placating her. “By no means is that to say all of the Nobility feel that way. Any examination of the historical facts will show that, in the preponderance of cases, they don’t demonstrate affection, but rather act as if human beings were lower than machines. Emotionally speaking—if we assume for a moment that they indeed have emotions—as much as ninety-nine percent of them are no different from the lord who attacked you. But it’s very difficult to discount the possibility that the other one percent exists. I’ll have to relate all the facts I’ve unearthed to you another day ...”

Am I gonna see another day1 Doris wondered. Beyond the window, something evil was on its way, tearing through the pleasantly sweet air of the spring-like evening.

Dr. Ferringo wasn’t looking at Doris any longer. His eyes seemed nailed to a spot on the floor as he continued to expound on long-held suspicions. “For example, why would they make distinctions between their weaknesses and the weapons that exploit them? Why did some memory of this powder remain when it could’ve been erased as completely as whatever the ‘t’ stands for? My guess is that compared to this ‘t’ thing, the powder is a minor hindrance, at best. Could it be the bastards are just teasing us? Is this our masters saying, ‘Let them have a minor weakness like this,’ as they throw us a bone? If that’s the case, then why not make it common knowledge from the start?” Here

Dr. Ferringo’s words trailed off. Pausing a beat, he added,

“This is the conclusion I’ve come to after a humble little investigation that’s occupied half this old fool’s sixty years—I take this as a challenge from a race that reached the pinnacle and now slides toward extinction. It’s a challenge being offered to us humans, a race that can’t even begin to be measured against them. But we may eventually rise to their level, or perhaps even surpass them. And I believe this is what they say: ‘If you humans want to inherit our throne, then try to beat us into submission by your own power. If you have the powder, then try to solve the mystery of the ‘t’ thing. And when you’ve solved it, try to prevent it from being shrouded again in the mists of forgetfulness.’”

“That’s impossible ...” To Doris, the words spilling from her own lips sounded a million miles away. “That’d make them just like an instructor breaking in a Hunter trainee ...”

Though he gave a slight nod, it was unclear if the elderly physician truly fathomed Doris’ words. His gaze didn’t deviate in the least as he said, “This isn’t something the Lesser Nobility would be capable of. It may well be ...”

“It may well be what?”

“Him. All the true Nobility in the world were united under the thousand Greater Nobility, the seven Kings, and the legendary dark lord who ruled them all—the great vampire, the king of kings, Dra—”

At that moment, a wave of tension swept into Doris’ countenance. “Doc!” she shouted, but it sounded more like a cry for help than a warning. Snapping back to reality, the physician turned his head to follow Doris as she made for the living room window.

The light of the moon on the cool plains showed no signs of anything on the move, but the ears of both caught the sounds of wagon wheels and hooves pounding distant terrain.

“Looks like he’s coming.”

“I’ve got a hell of a welcome party set up for him." Though she’d reclaimed the stalwart mien of an Amazon, in her heart of hearts the girl let a plaintive cry escape.

You didn’t make it back in time after all, D.

The black cyborgs seemed to run on unearthly clouds, and, when their hoofbeats echoed so close that it was impossible Doris was mistaken, she went to the other side of the living room and twisted one of the silver ceremonial masks adorning the wall to the right.

With a dim sound, part of the floor and wall rotated and pulled out of sight. In a matter of seconds, a wooden control-console and armchair appeared. Though the control console itself was wood, the switch- and lever-dotted top was iron, with a riot of colored lamps and gauges adding to the confusion. This was a combat control center—Doris’ father had summoned a craftsman all the way from the Capital to install it. Every weapon on the farm could be controlled from here. As far as being prepared for the attacks by the creatures that ran rampant in the wild, this was about as good as money could buy. A full-field prismatic scope lowered from the ceiling.

“Ha! Back in those days, I asked your father what kind of work he was having done, and he told me he was having a new solar converter put in. Your father was a sly one to even keep this from me.”

There wasn’t time to respond to the recollections of the still-easygoing physician. The prismatic lens of the view scope showed a black carriage drawn by a team of four horses coming down the road to the farm at full speed. Doris’ hand reached for one of the levers. The view scope doubled as a targeting system.

“Steady,” Dr. Ferringo told her as he peered out the window, the little bottle in his hand. “You’ve still got the electromagnetic barrier.” Before he had finished speaking, the triple-barred, wooden gate opened without a whisper. As the black carriage was about

to sprint through the gate with a gust of wind, it was enveloped by a blinding flash of light.

Powerful enough to char a lesser dragon through tough scales otherwise impervious to blades, the electromagnetic barrier set off a shower of sparks that turned blackest night to brightest day for a fleeting moment. Bursting through a giant, white-hot blossom of fire, the ball of white light forced its way onto the farm. The horse, the driver, the wagon wheels—white flames clung to them all. It was an outlandish sight, like a carriage from hell that had suddenly appeared on earth.

“They’re through. What in the world?...” Doris’ puzzled exclamation came as she watched the cyborg horses—-as soon as they’d broken through the barrier, she’d expected the four of them to tear right into her front yard like a veritable hurricane, but not a single hoof was out of step as they executed a brilliant stop right on the spot.

The magnetic flames swirling around them quickly dispersed. The enemy was protected by a more powerful barrier.

“Not yet. Look! He’s getting out!” Once again, her hand was checked by the physician’s hopeful command, but in his voice Doris caught a ring of both tension and fear that outweighed the former emotion by far. Embodiment of courage and intellect that the elderly physician was, the damage of scores of centuries of brainwashing by the Nobility had seeped well into his subconscious.

The black door opened, and a massive figure garbed in sable trod down steps that automatically projected onto the ground.

“He must be some kind of idiot—look at him, jumping out like he doesn’t have a care in the world.”

Ostensibly encouraged, Doris’ voice still lacked strength.

Her foe knew that any defenses she might be ready to spring on him would pose no threat. When the villain that had left his filthy mark on her neck bared his pearly fangs in a grin and started toward the house alone, Doris pulled the lever.

All over the farm there was the sound of one spring releasing after another. Black chunks flew through the air toward the Count, only to bounce back inches shy of him. What fell to the ground were boulders a good four feet in diameter. Fired in rapid succession, all of the rocky missiles were robbed of their kinetic energy by an invisible barrier, falling around the calmly advancing Count.

“Just as I thought—he’s no pushover.” Doris pulled a second lever. This time it was steel javelins the launchers disgorged. All of the first ten bounced off him, but the eleventh and final javelin pierced the Count’s abdomen.

“I got him!” Doris exclaimed, squeezing the lever so hard she threatened to break it. What froze her smile was the way the temporarily motionless Count gave a horrible grin before he resumed his deliberate stride, the steel javelin still protruding from his stomach and back.

The bastard's trying to tell me he doesn’t even need his force field to stop my attacks!

It felt like an icy paw of fear was stirring her brains as Doris suddenly realized that there was no need for a vampire to “go get” a former victim. For those who’d felt the kiss of blood on their neck but once, a single word from a fiend outside their door would suffice to call them out into the waiting arms of Death. That was precisely the sort of thing D was guarding against when he rendered her unconscious the first time she had unwanted guests.

“He’s toying with me!” Doris pushed and pulled levers like a woman possessed. So long as nothing pierced its heart, a vampire would not die. Though undoubtedly aware of this immutable fact, seeing the fearsome power in action with her own two eyes had completely robbed the girl of the cool judgment the daughter of a skilled Hunter should possess. She was robbed of her reason by the same fear that slumbered in all mortals, the fear of unknowable darkness.

Machine guns concealed in the shrubbery spat fire, and explosive-tipped arrows set aflame by a lens on the solar storage unit fell like rain.

Through the oily smoke, the fiery explosions, and the deafening roar that surrounded him, the Count grinned. It was clear this was the stiffest resistance humanity could currently offer. Their kind remained on earth, tough as cockroaches, while his species slid silently and inevitably toward extinction, dwindling like the light of the setting sun.

Suddenly, his anger flared, consuming all the admiration he’d felt for the resistance his prey offered. His eyes became flame. As he gnashed his naked fangs together, the Count dashed to the porch, took the stairs in a single leap, yanked the javelin from his abdomen, and heaved the weapon at the door. The door burst off its hinges and toppled into the house. Beyond the door hung a black, iron netting. The instant he heedlessly thrust the steel javelin into it to sweep it out of his way, there was a flash at the point of contact, and the Count felt a violent burning sensation flowing into his body through the hand he had around the weapon. For the first time, the flesh beneath his black raiment shuddered in agony, and his hair stood on end. The vampire’s accursed regenerative abilities did their best to counteract the vicious electric shock, and then set to adjusting the molecular arrangement of the cells that needed to be removed. The shock he received came from a transformer that converted energy collected in the solar panels on the roof by day into a high-tension load of fifty-thousand volts. Even as he felt his cells charred and nerves destroyed by the precipitous electrical shock, the Count swung the javelin. With a parting gift of fresh agony and a shower of sparks, the conductive net of interlaced wire tore and fell to the floor.

“Well done for a lone woman,” the Count muttered with admiration, his eyes bloodshot. “She’s every bit the fighter I thought she’d be. Child, I must have your blood at all costs. Wait for me.”

Doris knew she had exhausted all means at her disposal. As the monitor was switched to the interior of the house, the visage of a thirsting demon filled the screen. Suddenly the living room door was knocked back into the room. Doris leapt up from the control console and stood in front of Dr. Ferringo to shield him.

“Child,” the figure in the doorway said, “while you fight admirably for a woman, the battle is done. You must favor me with a taste of your hot blood.”

The snap of a whip split the air.

“Come,” the Count commanded in a penetrating voice.

The tip of her whip lost its impetus in midair, and the weapon fell to the floor in coils. Doris began walking with the shaky steps of a marionette, but the elderly physician grabbed her shoulder. His right hand covered her nostrils, and the young woman slumped to the floor without a sound. The physician had kept a chloroform-soaked cloth concealed in his hand all along.

“So you intend to interfere with me, old fool?” the Count asked in a stark, white voice devoid of all emotion.

“Well, I can’t stand back and do nothing,” the old man responded, stepping forward with his left hand clenched. “Here’s something you hate—garlic powder.”

A wave of unrest passed across the Count’s face, but he soon gave a broad grin. “You should be complimented on your discovery—but you truly are foolish. True enough, I am powerless against that scent. You may slip through my grasp this night. But the instant you confirm how effective it is against me, that confirmation shall cost you all memory of the very thing you hold in your hand. And tomorrow evening I shall come again.”

“I’m not gonna let you do that.”

“Oh, and what shall you do?”

“This old fool had a life once, too. Thirty years back, Sam Ferringo was known as something of an Arachni-man Hunter. And I know a thing or two as well about how to do battle with your kind.”

“I see.” There was a glint in the Count’s eyes.

The elderly physician gave a wave of his hand. Powder and a strange odor swirled through the air.

Gagging, the vampire reeled back with his cape over his nose and mouth. He was struck with a horrible urge to vomit. He felt utterly enervated, as if his brains were melting and life itself was draining from his body. The cells in his sinus cavity—the olfactory nerves that make the sense of smell possible—were dealt a devastating blow by the allicin that gives garlic its distinctive aroma.

“Your kinds’ days are over. Back to the world of darkness and destruction with you!” At some point, Dr. Ferringo had pulled out a foot-long stake. With the rough wooden weapon in his right hand, the physician advanced. Right before his eyes, a black bird snapped its wings open. It was the Count’s cape. Like a sentient being, it wrapped around the elderly physician’s wrists, then swept around wildly to hurl the man clear across the room—all without the Count appearing to lift a finger. This was one of the secret tricks of the Nobility. The Count had learned it from no less than the Sacred Ancestor of his race.

Scrambling desperately to rise from the floor, the elderly physician was horrified to see the still wildly coughing Count climbing onto Doris.

“Wait!”

The Count’s face eclipsed part of the girl’s throat.

What the physician saw astonished him.

The Count fell backward, his face pale. Perhaps no one had ever seen a Noble wear such an expression of stark terror as the elderly physician now witnessed. Ignoring the awestruck physician, the figure in black disappeared through the door, his cape fluttering behind him.

When the elderly physician finally got to his feet, rubbing his hip all the while, he could hear the echo of wagon wheels fading into the distance. Somehow or other, it looks like we’re out of the woods for now. Just as this tremendous feeling of relief welled up inside him, Dr. Ferringo suddenly got the feeling he’d forgotten something important and cocked his head to one side. What in the blazes is that smell? And why did that bastard take to his heels?

CHAPTER 5

As soon as the sun was up the next morning, Doris entrusted the still slumbering Dan to the elderly physician and left the farm. “Are you dead set on going? Even supposing he’s still alive, you’ve got no idea whether or not you’ll find him.” Doc was referring to D, of course. Doris kept her silence and smiled. It wasn’t a disheartened smile. She’d save him all right, even if it killed her. That was the conviction that bolstered her smile.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be back for sure. Take care of Dan for me.” And with that, she wheeled her horse around toward the vampires’ castle.

She was scared. She’d already felt the vampire’s baleful fangs once, and had nearly been attacked again scant hours earlier.

And she’d already lost all memory of the effectiveness of garlic. Having heard from Dr. Ferringo that the Count had run off for some unknown reason, Doris assured herself the powder really had worked. As soon as she came to believe it, however, every memory of the powder was purged from her brain. In its place, Doris remembered how the previous night, the fearsome Noble dealt with every attack she threw at him like it was mere child’s play. The memory of it was etched vividly in her mind.

She couldn’t beat him. There was no way to stop him.

While she raced across the plains with a display of equestrian skill that would put any man to shame, her heart was poised to drop into a pit of the darkest despair until the innocent face of her brother Dan caught her and pulled her back. Don’t worry, your big sister ain't about to let that bastard get the best of her. I'll bring D back, and then we’ll get rid of the lot of them, she thought.

Beyond Dan’s face, another face flickered. Colder than that of the Count, a visage so exquisite it gave her goose bumps.

Be alive. I don’t care how bad you’re hurt, just please still be alive.

Even after the weather controller’s “comfort-control time” was over, the chill-laden morn on the prairie was so beautiful and charged with vitality that the green of the landscape took on a deeper hue. A dozen men on horseback, looking like they’d ridden hard all night, kicked up a cloud of dust as they came to an abrupt halt on a road traversed only by a pleasant morning breeze. The road ran on into the village of Ransylva, stitching its way between prairies of waist-high grass. Seventy feet ahead, four figures had sprung from the undergrowth and now stood in the middle of the road, blocking the traveler’s way.

“What the hell are you trying to prove?!”

“We’re the Frontier Defense Force, dispatched on orders from the Capital. Out of our way!” The eyes of the second man to shout narrowed cautiously. The outlandish appearance of this foursome touched on remembered dangers.

“A girlish little punk, a big freaking bastard, a bag of bones with a pointed head, and a hunchback—you pricks wouldn’t happen to be the Fiend Corps would you?”

“An excellent deduction,” Rei-Ginsei said with a grin wholly befitting the lush, green morning. With that gem of a smile, it was hard to imagine this dashing youth as the head of the brutal bandit gang that had terrorized the northern part of

the Frontier. “We came down here to make a little money after our faces got a wee bit too well known up north, but before we can even get started, it comes to our attention you boys are going from village to village posting warrants for us, so we decided to wait for you out here. Kindly refrain from doing anything untoward.”

To the man, the members of the FDF were enraged by his insolent tone. The solemn-faced man who was apparently their commander barked, “Shut your damn flap! We made double -time to Pedros after we got word you pricks had been seen in town there, but we just barely missed you, much to our regret.

I can’t believe our luck. You clowns just jumped into our laps. We’re busting you right here. I don’t care if you’re the meanest bandits to ever walk the earth, you’ve all gotta be soft in the head. You know, we’re the fucking Frontier Defense Force, dumbass!” His self-confidence wasn’t a bluff. Dispatched by the Capital at regular intervals to police the entire Frontier, the FDF had been trained to combat all manner of beasts and creatures. They were equipped with serious firepower, and in a fight, each and every one of them was worth a platoon of normal men.

Heavy metallic clinks echoed from the saddles of the squad members serried behind him. That was the sound of shells being automatically fed into the recoilless bazookas each man was issued. The squad members already had Rei-Ginsei and his group in the unswerving sights of their laser rifles. No matter how the bandits’ battle in the saloon the previous day had defied imagining, it seemed unlikely that mortal men like themselves could weather the FDF’s assault.

“How does this strike you—since you went to all the trouble of turning yourselves in, we’ll let you throw down your weapons, okay? That way you’ll at least get to go on living till they get you up on the hangman’s scaffold,” said the commander.

“I don’t fancy that.”

“Why, you little punk!”

“By all means, shoot me if it’ll make you feel any better. But before you do, there’s one thing you seem to be forgetting.”

The commander knit his brow in consternation.

“The Fiend Corps is not a quartet,” Rei-Ginsei said in an exquisite voice.

“What?!”

A stir ran through the FDF members. At some point, the foursome had taken their eyes off the FDF and turned them straight to the side.

“We have a guardian angel the rest of the world knows nothing about.” Still looking off to the side, Rei-Ginsei pulled the corner of his lips up sharply. His was the devil’s own smile. “Oh, here it comes now!” When an unremitting source of terror to the human body and soul appeared right in front of them, the degree of shock each of the victims felt seemed to be directly dependent on their proximity to it.

The instant the thing materialized from thin air, hovering over the commander’s horse, the leader died of shock, and the five FDF members within ten feet of him went insane. And that wasn’t all. Apparently even animals could see the thing, or perhaps they could sense its troubling presence; the lead horses forgot all about running away, but instead dropped to a spasming heap on the ground, frothing from the nose and mouth. The rest of the steeds reared up.

Most likely, the FDF members who fell from their mounts as a result didn’t cry out because part of their psyches had already been shattered. Some of them had their heads staved by the hooves of the rampaging horses, while others seemed frozen as they watched it coming closer and closer.

The thing leisurely made its way from one survivor to the next, touching each of the members in turn.

The Capital’s greatest fighting men quietly died of madness, powerless to stop it.

“Well, what do you think.⁷ The fifth member of the Fiend Corps is quite the looker, isn’t it?”

The last member of the FDF was crawling across the ground, but as he listened to Rei-Ginsei’s sardonic laughter the thing suddenly vanished without a trace.

“What the—?!”

As the startled Rei-Ginsei looked over his shoulder, the sole surviving FDF member trained his laser rifle on the bandit’s forehead. Thanks to a Spartan training regime, he could still muster murderous intent toward the enemy despite his insanity.

“Boss!”

Before Golem could move, a beam of red light pierced Rei-Ginsei’s brow.

However, it was the FDF member who jerked backwards. Incredibly, the laser beam that hit Rei-Ginsei right between the eyes burst out of the back of the other man’s head. A stench of seared flesh and brains hung in the otherwise refreshing air.

“Are you okay, boss?” the man with the pointed head asked as he cast a loathsome gaze on the soldiers littering the ground. Not merely his head, but the man’s entire frame was streamlined like a shooting-star class rocket. He was called Gimlet.

“I believe I’ll survive,” Rei-Ginsei laughed, rubbing his forehead. There was a black circle about a quarter inch in diameter scorched right between his eyebrows.

While the others inquired no further after his condition, the four fiends looked at each other with concern over another suspicious occurrence.

“Something must’ve happened to Witch,” said the hunchbacked man.

“Chullah’s right,” Rei-Ginsei chimed in. “The only reason I made such a blunder is because I never in a million years imagined that thing just disappearing in the middle of an operation.” He certainly had a strange way of covering his blunders. Turning back to the expanse of prairie to his left, he muttered, “If one of her spells should break at her age, she’ll be walking the cold, dark road to hell...”

“Would you like me to go check it out?” asked Gimlet.

He shook his fine head from side to side. “No, I shall look into this. The rest of you kindly dispose of these unsightly remains. Burn them or eat them, whichever suits your fancy,” he said, smiling at his disturbing orders.

And this is what was happening while the gruesome battle neared its conclusion, or rather, to be precise, just before the sudden disappearance of the thing that had materialized from thin air.

Racing across the plains, Doris was just about to turn her steed in a new direction when she discovered something unexpected in someplace unimaginable and jerked her horse’s reins in the opposite direction instead. The spot was less than a mile and a quarter from Count Lee’s castle. Bypassing the more circuitous roads, she’d galloped straight through a hilly region, but from here on out, she’d have to take a somewhat less direct route.

Her father had brought her here just once when she was little and she’d seen it from a distance then, but she’d never seen the place from this close before. Half of her frightened, the other half deadly serious, she took in the mysterious scenery stretching out in the morning light. The villagers called this place The Devil’s Quarry. In this part of the endless expanse of prairie, there were countless statues standing like stone forests, or laying on the ground and looking to the heavens. No two had the same face or form, and there wasn’t a single statue that didn’t have the aspect of some bizarre monstrosity. A sculpture of a baldheaded man with incredibly large eyes, a bust of a creature with dozens of arms baring its fangs, a full-length statue with thousands of beastly bristles each individually carved—all these pieces of incomparably detailed craftsmanship were covered with moss,

as were the remnants of stone walls and columns that called to mind the ruins of some ancient citadel. Together, they seemed to form a completely alien dimension. Even the morning sunlight, that should’ve breathed life into every hill and valley in the world, lent the faces of the sculptures weirder shadows than it might have, as the particles of light were swallowed by the moss and the desolate atmosphere, or sank with leaden weight. Even the air was dank. People said this was the place where the Nobility had once held their wretched ceremonies, or a quarry used in the construction of the castle, but the latter theory was easily dismissed. After all, there wasn’t any stone in this whole region to be quarried. At any rate, this was a forbidden area, and no one from the village ever entered.

What had caught Doris’ eye was an old woman seated in a deep, bowl-shaped depression near the center of the Devil’s Quarry doing the same baffling gestures over and over. Her age was unclear. Judging by her gray hair and the wrinkles creasing her yellowed skin, both of which were obvious even at this distance, she looked to be nearly a hundred, and yet her body seemed strangely imbued with vitality.

What is this? Some old lady lost in her travels, taking a breather?

Even if Doris couldn’t bring her all the way into town, she could at least give the woman directions back to the main road. But as Doris was just about to give her mount a flick of the reins, she stayed her hand and quietly slipped down to the ground instead.

Wrapped in a dull gray overcoat, the crone’s torso was bent forward at an extreme angle, and there was something about the sight of her—with eyes fixed on her own fingertips as they clutched at nothing—that just felt evil. Of course, Doris was completely unaware that at that very moment on the road a few miles distant, a strange entity that appeared out of thin air was busy delivering death by insanity to the members of the FDF.

Muffling her own footfalls as she led her horse, Doris made her way into the Devil’s Quarry, tethered her mount to a nearby pillar, and came up behind the crone. Apparently the old woman didn’t notice, as she didn’t move at all. As Doris drew closer, she felt goose bumps spread across her flesh.

A poisonous miasma was rising from the crone’s vicinity. Clearly she was using some arcane skill toward foul ends. The sound of a low voice chanting a spell reached Doris’ ears.

“Stop that!” she shouted despite herself as she took a few steps forward. At that instant, something whizzed out of the bushes and glanced off her cheek. Doris dropped to the ground with lightning speed. Holding her breath and remaining alert, she touched her left hand to her cheek. Warm blood clung to her fingertips.

A spirit beast, eh? Looks like she’s got her warded zone set up right around here, Doris thought.

To her left, Doris felt a keen presence. She made a quick combat roll to one side and let fly with the whip in her right hand. Unfortunately, her deadly strike only kicked grass into the air, but she sensed her opponent changing direction to fall back a good distance.

When conjurers and sorcerers worked their art, they established an area around themselves with a radius of ten or so feet in order to have the best chances of success. This was known as their warded zone. Since their concentration might be disturbed, and, in extreme cases, their spell might even lose its efficacy if someone were to step into this zone while they were working, sorcerers conjured up creatures and set them as watch dogs outside the warded zone, ready to attack intruders. The task often fell to massive hounds, poisonous toads, and serpents suckled on pure malice, but this crone used a transparent creature formed of her own force of will—a spirit beast. And a particularly nasty one at that.

Doris was well aware the only thing that had saved her was the superb reflex of a trained Hunter. The average person

would’ve had their throat torn open a few seconds ago. In her heart, she whispered thanks to her father. “It’s forty feet to the old lady. Guess this calls for a bit of trickery,” Doris muttered to herself. This dangerous gamble was her only choice. She had no idea what kind of misery her opponent could be causing with her spell.

Once again, her whip mowed through open air right toward the crone.

Slashing through the air, the spirit beast attacked Doris.

At that moment, her whip snapped back. An instant later, she could feel something in the air rip in half. The air was suddenly flooded with a choking malevolence, but it dispersed quickly enough.

“Waagh!”

The scream that escaped the crone as she doubled over made Doris leap to her feet in the brush. Doris had drawn the spirit beast out by appearing to attack the crone, then used a flick of her wrist to turn the blow on the beast at the last possible second. Of course, if her timing had been off by a split second, Doris would have been the one to die.

Her suicidal gamble had paid off, but it had also had an unforeseen side effect. Because the crone had created the spirit beast with her own sorcery, the destruction of the beast meant a disturbance to her other spell as well. She invested the whole of her life force in performing that spell, and when it was broken, the crone’s black heart beat its last. It was at just that moment the outlandish creature bearing down on the last remaining FDF member vanished.

“Hey, lady! C’mon, snap out of it!” Doris raced over and took her in her arms, but the crone’s eyes showed dead white, foam spilled from her mouth, and the mortified look on her wrinkled features defied description. There was a pentagram branded on her forehead, the mark of a sorceress. “Oh, crap!

This isn’t quite what I had in mind ... ” Though this was an evil sorceress, and her own actions had clearly been in self defense, the thought that she’d brought about the death of an old woman weighed heavily on Doris’ heart.

“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait here until I can come back. I’ve got serious business to attend to.”

Doris laid the corpse out on the ground, and was about to head back to her horse when she hesitated. She’d already decided that finding out whether or not D was okay was more important than bringing this corpse back to town. She’d come out here aware of all the risks that entailed.

Still, the dark body of the crone looked so terribly sad and forlorn stretched out on the ground. The wind tugged at the sleeves of her overcoat. And a corpse abandoned in the wilds was a tempting target for monsters. It would be bad enough to have them feasting on her, but if one of them got inside her that would be yet another threat to humanity. Even in broad daylight, there were probably some creatures around that might risk turning into a ball of flame to slink out and take possession of a corpse that hadn’t been disposed of properly.

Doris didn’t have any of the gear she’d need to take care of the body. She didn’t see a horse or wagon for the crone. On inspection, the inner pocket of the crone’s overcoat contained nothing aside from a few suspicious-looking trinkets.

Doris went back to the body and lifted it gently. “I don’t really think there are any critters to take you over out here, but I’m gonna bring you with me anyway. Of course, I can’t offer any guarantees we’ll make it back in one piece, either.”

Loading the corpse onto the horse behind the saddle, Doris used rawhide lacing to secure its arms and legs around the steed. That was to keep it from falling off, and just to be safe in the event something did possess it. Leave it to the daughter of a Hunter to be accustomed to this sort of work—she had the whole thing done in less than three minutes. Doris got in the saddle.

At any rate, I’ll make for the main road.

When her horse had gone but a few steps, Doris suddenly spun around. At the same moment, she heard a thunk as something heavy buzzed by at neck level. The decapitated head painted a gory parabola as it sailed through the air, and just before it hit the ground, its eyes snapped open. It bared its teeth. They were the eyes of a demon, and the foul fangs of one as well. It flew toward the person responsible for separating it from its body. Black lightning streaked from a mounted figure topping a hill quite some distance off. Split in two from forehead to chin, the crone’s head fell to the ground and moved no more.

Doris realized she’d had a very close call.

Right behind her was the decapitated corpse of the crone, frozen in place with its claws a heartbeat away from tearing into the girl’s throat. The snapped binding dangled from its wrists. An evil spirit had possessed the corpse before Doris had even touched it. The instant it snapped its bonds to attack Doris from behind, the figure on the distant hill had lopped the head off with consummate skill and speed.

Her horse gave a shake, and the headless corpse dropped to the ground. Doris finally turned to face her savior. “Oh, D, I was ...” An elated hue lit up her face, but it was gone all too soon.

While the figure coming down off the hill fresh from his graceful display of skill certainly had beauty on par with D, he was clearly someone else. “I can’t believe you picked up on that.” As he pulled up along side her on his horse, Rei-Ginsei smiled blindingly. He was referring to how she had sensed a strange presence, and turned around a split second before the possessed corpse attacked.

“That was nothing. It looks like I’m in your debt again.

What kind of weapon did you use?”

Rei-Ginsei took a playfully surprised expression at her less than ladylike inquiry. “If you’ll forgive my saying so, judging by your clothing and that whip, you appear to be a Hunter.”

“My father was. I just sorta play at it,” Doris said without embarrassment or modesty, and then she smiled. She wasn’t entirely sure why, but her smile felt strangely forced.

Realizing that even after they’d exchanged civilities Doris’ eyes were not focused on his face but rather on his weapon-girt waist, the dashing youth smiled grimly.

“What brings you here of all places at this hour of the morning, sir? You been out on the road?”

“Yes, that’s it exactly.”

“In that case, you suppose you could bring this old lady’s body back into town for me? Normally I’d have to go and explain what happened to the sheriff, but the truth is, I’m kind of in a hurry.” Doris stopped her horse and proceeded to recount the entire incident.

Listening silently until the end, Rei-Ginsei then muttered, “I see now. So that’s what happened to it ... I can take care of the corpse for you. I shall see to it both are disposed of properly.”

“Both?” Doris knit her brow, but as the dashing youth’s carefree smile struck her, she reflected a smile of her own.

“Okay, then. Thanks.”

As she was reining her horse around, her arm was grabbed from the side, drawing the lovely young woman into an embrace on horseback. The sweet aroma that lingered around his mouth wasn’t what she’d expect from any man.

“What the hell...”

“I have saved your life, even though it meant slaying one of my four companions. Of course, you’re also quite beautiful. And then there’s the matter of your rescue yesterday. I hardly think anyone would blame me for taking a little compensation.”

“You’d better leave me alone, or else—”

“You’ve also seen something you shouldn’t have. We really can’t have you going into town and telling everyone about that.

So you’ll have to die out here. Why don’t we just say I’m avenging

my fallen comrade? Don’t put up such a fight. You’ll live a while longer. Until I’ve taken my pleasure, at least.” The dashing youth’s mouth locked over the virgin’s lips.

There was a gasp, and Rei-Ginsei quickly pulled back. He pressed his hand to his mouth, and blood spread across the back of it. A bite from Doris had torn his lips open.

“Don’t fuck with me! I’ve got someone I care about. I wouldn’t let a creep like you touch me!”

Her tone was awe inspiring. She thought Rei-Ginsei’s countenance would flush with anger, but he simply smiled. Only it wasn’t the charming smile that people couldn’t help but return. It was the satanic grin he’d worn on the main road.

Giving a shudder, Doris lashed her whip at the center of his face. Less than a foot and a half lay between them. It was really too close to swing the whip. And yet the swirl of black from the girl’s fist leapt right up at the youth’s dashing face. It was about to land there when it disappeared into the black streak of lightning shooting up from her foe’s waist. Rei-Ginsei’s skill in drawing his bizarre, v-shaped weapon—and slashing off the end of her whip in the blink of an eye—was truly miraculous. And yet, his face had none of the tension of a battle about to be joined, but rather held the same smile as before.

“Hyah!”

Realizing in a heartbeat she didn’t stand a chance of victory, Doris reined her horse toward the ruins and took off at full speed.

In her haste to take flight, she forgot the might of her foe’s weapon, and the way it had taken off the crone’s head from a hilltop over sixty feet away. Rei-Ginsei didn’t throw his weapon immediately. As Doris’ mount neared the heart of the ruins, he finally let the weapon fly with an underhanded throw. Whirring as it chased down the rapidly dwindling speck of Doris and her steed, it mercilessly slashed through the horse’s right-rear leg and right-front leg, turned a graceful loop, and came right back at

them, severing both legs on the left side. As the loss of one leg would’ve sufficed to prevent the girl’s escape, this was a display of sheer brutality. A bloody mist went out as the horse fell.

“Oh! Just beautiful!” As he felt the weight of his weapon returning to his outstretched palm, Rei-Ginsei admired the scene before him.

As the horse toppled over, a lithe body leapt into the air, somersaulted, and landed on the ground with only the slightest break in form.

But Doris’ face was deathly pale.

She hadn’t forgotten her foe’s weapon, or his unholy skill with it. With those very things in mind, she’d had her horse galloping along a zigzagging course. The black weapon seemed to take their movements into consideration nonetheless as it cleanly severed the first two legs. The falling beast threw them into the air as Rei-Ginsei came back and visited a similar fate on the remaining pair.

Doris realized she’d run into a foe that in some ways was even more fearsome than the Nobility. There was a javelin and a longsword strapped to her saddle, but she had the whip in her right hand. Still, the weapon felt strangely light and ineffectual in her grasp.

Rei-Ginsei leisurely rode into the ruins. “After seeing that last display of agility, I find myself even less inclined to kill you soon. Will you not lay with me before you depart this mortal coil?”

“Who’d be low enough to do that? I’d sooner have my head bashed open on one of these rocks than lie down with a self-important snake like you,” Doris replied, quickly slipping behind the closest of the massive sculptures. Almost twenty feet high, the statue of a figure with a pair of bared fangs tilted slightly forward, set off balance by the long years and the shifting of the ground. Rei-Ginsei’s intimidating, ranged weapon couldn’t be expected to do much through this stony shield, but with no way to strike back, Doris remained in the same predicament.

“The stronger the prey, the greater the huntsman’s thrill. Even more so when it’s such an exquisite beast. Oh, I’m sorry— you’re supposed to be a Hunter as well, aren’t you?” Rei-Ginsei ended the question with scornful laughter. The second he looked down from that hill, and spotted Doris with Witch’s body loaded on her horse, he had decided to kill her. If the connection were made between the disappearance of the FDF squad and the corpse of an old woman who’d been working some sort of sorcery, it would only be a question of time before the name of his gang came up.

Witch had been like a reserve unit no one knew about. Operating independently, her job was to summon a creature more ghastly than the human mind could bear. Her creations left the bandits’ foes psychologically devastated. When Rei-Ginsei lopped off the head of the demonically possessed Witch and saved Doris, part of the reason was because of the natural sexual attraction he felt toward the beautiful girl. On the other hand, he’d also intended to get rid of the burdensome old sorceress eventually. Now he had the girl cornered like an animal, she was largely unscathed, and her eyes blazed with animosity as she glared at him from behind the monolith.

“It would be so easy for me to send you into the hereafter, but I fear dispatching you so quickly would leave you ill-equipped to testify to my infamy in the afterlife.” The weapon in his right hand glistened in the sunlight. “I believe I shall have to make your frail heart quake a bit more in fear of me. Ah, yes, I recall one of the cardinal rules of the Hunter—first you must flush the elusive prey from its hiding place.”

Something howled through the air, and there was an incredible noise from the base of the monolith sheltering Doris. Giving a cry of astonishment, Doris wisely leapt out of the way. Stuck in the ground at an angle, the several tons of sculpted stone didn’t look likely to budge an inch, even under a sizable impact, but suddenly its balance seemed to upset, and it started to tilt in her direction.

The weapon that had done this was already back in Rei-Ginsei’s hand. It resembled the boomerang the ancient natives of Australia used so effectively. Unlike the boomerang, however, Rei'Ginsei’s weapon was razor sharp on both the inner and outer edges. What’s more, it was made of iron. Most non-Aborigines had trouble throwing a plain wooden boomerang effectively, yet this handsome youth, as limber as a sapling swaying in the breeze, could throw the iron blades any way he pleased with just one flick of the wrist. His unholy skill lent blades of mere metal the kind of cutting power reserved for magic swords, pushing them through a human body, or the trunk of a tree, or even through stone.

Furthermore, they didn’t just strike in a straight line. They could come at the target from the right or the left, from above, even from the feet—there seemed to be nowhere they couldn’t go. And while it was impossible to defend oneself from even one of these blades, it seemed unlikely there was anyone in the world that could fend off two or three successive attacks, let alone multiple blades thrown at the same time. The iron blades were liable to slice through any shield as easily as they went through their usual prey. Such were Rei'Ginsei’s “shrike-blades.”

The ground shook and verdant moss flew everywhere as the monolith fell.

Doris stood at the bottom of a lush green bowl of a depression, stock still with amazement. It was ten feet to the nearest stone wall.

Swaying like a flower in the morning breeze, Rei-Ginsei laughed. “What’s wrong? I thought the nature of the beast was to flee when hunted—”

Suddenly, he swallowed his words.

Doris’ expression filled with hope, because two things had suddenly changed.

A heavy white mist from nowhere in particular had begun to fill the ruins. It clung to Rei'Ginsei’s hand as he held his weapon,

and to Doris’ cheeks, forming tepid beads. And far off, a horse was whinnying.

Doris made a mad dash for the stone wall. While the fog might protect her from an attack, she didn’t think it would blind her foe long enough for her to get away. She would try to get close enough to whoever was riding the horse she’d just heard to call out, and would try to borrow some weapons, though she might lose an arm or a leg in the process. Of course, she didn’t think that would be enough to beat him anyway.

Nothing came knifing through the air after her. Leaping over the wall headfirst, she held her breath and tried to judge the distance to the next bit of cover.

The voice that echoed across the distance rendered her determined gaze as lifeless as that of a corpse.

“Boss, I’m gonna help myself to your playmate.”

In a dimly lit world, where a dripping, white veil hid the blue of the sky, the shadow of death crept ever closer to the one, lone girl. Rei'Ginsei and his three henchmen—any one of them was more than a match for her.

“What happened to Witch, boss?” another voice inquired. “She got put down. Lost her head to a pretty little bird.”

A low, rumbling stir went through the fog. The voices she heard were choked with blackest rage.

“I’ll gouge her eyes out.”

“I’m gonna twist the arms and legs off her.”

“I’ll tear her head off.”

Then Rei'Ginsei was heard to say, “And I shall take my pleasure from what remains of her body.”

Doris hadn’t spoken. She couldn’t even be heard to breathe. The men had simply sensed the presence of a girl paralyzed by imminent death. The milky fog reduced everything to vague silhouettes.

Rei'Ginsei held a shrike-blade ready in his right hand. Without a single word of prompting, at that same moment

elsewhere in the fog, Golem drew his machete, a bowie knife gleamed in Gimlet’s hand, and Chullah’s hump split in half.

“Well, now...”

Just as they were about to unleash their murderous assault, Rei-Ginsei suddenly froze.

There’s something out there!

Yes, out in the eddying mist, out in the sticky, unsettling fog that steadily gnawed away at their psyches, which soaked through their skin to threaten the flame of life, Rei-Ginsei clearly sensed the presence of something other than his group and their helpless prey. Not only was there something out there, but it was enough to stop a man like him in his tracks. Rei-Ginsei couldn’t physically see it, but he felt the presence near the monolith he’d toppled with his lightning-fast throw.

He’d hadn’t known anything about this. How could he have guessed the monolith had stood there since time immemorial, blocking an entrance to the subterranean world? The fog around them was one that had risen from the bowels of the earth.

“So, this is the outside world?”

The query came in just the sort of unsettling voice one would expect from a demon of the mists. It had such an inhuman ring to it that Rei-Ginsei and his three brutal henchmen found themselves swallowing nervously. Stranger yet, it was a woman’s voice.

“It’s so chilly ... I like it so much better down below,” said another woman.

A third said, “We really must find something to fill our bellies—oh, well, isn’t there something right over there? One, two, three, four—five in all.”

Rei-Ginsei shuddered, realizing that the three speakers could see perfectly well in the fog that left all others blind. Due to the weirdness of the presence he sensed out there, he’d forgotten all about lowering the shrike-blade he’d raised earlier. He felt there were two things out there. And yet, he couldn’t help thinking that one of those was split into three!

“Your guide duties have been fulfilled. Get below again,” a rusty but much more human voice commanded. No doubt that was the other presence he felt. But while the voice was more human, the presence itself was far more daunting than the source of the disturbing female voices.

“Oh, you can’t... Look at how handsome he is... He looks absolutely delicious ...”

Quickly surmising that these plaintive cries referred to himself, Rei-Ginsei got chills.

“No, I forbid it.”

He felt extremely thankful for this second command.

“Let us go, my sisters. We have our orders.”

“It’s such a waste, but I suppose we must.”

“But, well ... when shall you visit us again? When will you come to our abode far below, oh beloved one?”

The last voice was entreating.

There was no response, and before long, the strange thing with three voices and one presence moved reluctantly through the fog and disappeared back underground.

The source of the remaining presence spoke.

“I’m not interested in fighting anyone but the Nobility, but if you’re hellbent on starting something, then step right up”

He’s challenging us! Even with this realization, the quartet found that their will to fight remained weak.

“D ... I know it’s you, isn’t it?”

Doris sounded on the verge of tears.

“Come to me. Relax. There’s no need to hurry.”

Out in the fog, there was the sound of teeth grinding together. He said there was no need to hurry because he was sure the quartet wouldn’t do a thing to stop him. The gnashing teeth testified to the gang’s resentment of his scathing insult.

But the fact of the matter was the unearthly aura radiating from somewhere out in the fog bound the villains tight, preventing them from so much as lifting a finger.

The little bird that had almost been in hand walked over to the source of the voice. Shortly after that, the bandits felt the two of them moving far away.

“Wait... wait just a minute.” At long last, Rei-Ginsei succeeded in forcing words from his mouth. “At least tell me your name ...” Forgetting his customary eloquence, he shouted into the fog, “So, is that your name, asshole? D?”

There was no response, and he felt the pair getting further and further away.

The spell over him was broken.

With a scream, Rei-Ginsei hurled his weapon. Extraordinary in its power, speed, and timing, nothing could stop it; with complete confidence in that fact, he let the shrike-blade fly.

Out in the fog, there was the sound of blade meeting blade. After that there was no sound at all, and silence settled over the white world. All trace of the pair was gone.

“Boss?” Golem inquired dejectedly a few minutes later, but the beautiful spawn of hell-sent supplications just stayed there with his right hand stretched out for a shrike-blade that never returned, his countenance paler than the fog as he sat frozen in the saddle.

A sculpture of a gargoyle with folded wings trained its mocking gaze on the room from its lofty perch. The room was one of many in Count Lee’s castle. Completely windowless and far from spacious, it was simple in design, but the robot sentries lined up along one wall, the chair on a dais a step up from the stone floor, the person in black scowling from a colossal portrait that covered much of the wall behind the chair, and the general air of religious solemnity that hung about the room suggested it was a place of judgment-—a courtroom of sorts.

The defendant had already been questioned about their crimes, and as the ultimate judge, Count Lee raised his eyebrows in rage.

“I will now pronounce the sentence. Look at me,” the Count commanded. He spoke with the dignity of a feudal lord, in a low voice from his place on the dais as he desperately fought back the flames ready to leap from his throat. The defendant didn’t move. Brought to the room earlier by the robot sentries, the defendant remained sprawled on the cold stone floor. Three pairs of vacant eyes wandered about the room, across the floor, into space, and then up to reciprocate the gaze of the gargoyles near the ceiling. The black hair that reached to the end of the defendant’s massive tail made the floor a sea of silky black. It was the three sisters from the subterranean aqueduct—the Midwich Medusas.

“You have forgotten the debt you owe me for sheltering you three long millennia in the waters of the underworld, safe from the eyes of man, and fed to the point of bursting. Not only did you fail to dispatch the worm I sent you, but you even aided his escape. This sort of betrayal is not easily forgiven. And so I condemn you here and now!”

The three heads didn’t seem to be shaken in the least by the Count’s barrage of abuse as they drifted through space and their eyes seemed to be covered by a milky membrane. Then, all at once, they let out a deep sigh and murmured, “Oh, the divine one ...”

“Kill them!” Before his indignant shout was done—a cry that some might even call crazed—the robot sentries unleashed crimson heat-rays from their eyes, vaporizing the trio of heads. Without so much as a glance at the corpse still smoking and wriggling on the floor, the Count curtly ordered, “Get rid of it,” then looked sharply to one side.

He hadn’t noticed her entrance, but Larmica stood beside the dais. Even garbed in a snow-white dress, the girl had an air of darkness about her. Returning her father’s bloodshot gaze with eyes full of icy mockery, she said, “Father, why have you done away with them?”

“They were traitors,” the Count spat. “Of course, there were extenuating circumstances. The stripling drank their blood and made them his slave, and they led him back to the surface. You see, when I awoke, the computers informed me that one of the entrances to the subterranean world had been opened early this morning. My first thought was to have them dragged from their lair for questioning, and they confessed everything. Not that it was difficult—they seem to have been robbed of their souls. They were only too happy to answer my questions.”

“And what of the entrance?”

“The robots have already sealed it.”

“Then you mean to tell me he made good his escape?” Averting his gaze from his daughter’s face as her expression became ever more fascinated, the Count nodded.

“He got away. But the fact that he beat the three sisters ... not by killing them, but that he bit their throats like one of us and made them do his bidding ... I get the feeling he is no ordinary dhampir ...”

Dhampirs with less self-control fed on human blood from time to time, but there had never been a case where the person they fed on became the same sort of marionette Nobles made of their victims. Being only half-vampire, dhampirs’ powers didn’t extend that far. Stranger yet, this victim hadn’t been a human, but rather a true monster among monsters—the Midwich Medusas.

Larmica’s eyes began to sparkle with an ineffable light. “I see. You let him get away from you ... Just like the girl.”

Not surprisingly, the Count’s visage twisted in rage, and he glared at Larmica.

The girl, of course, was Doris. Larmica referred with sarcasm to how he’d set out flush with confidence to claim his prize, but had been forced to flee after meeting brutal resistance. Even

more filled with the pride of the Nobility than her father, Larmica sternly opposed elevating any human to the ranks of her kind, no matter how much her father might be attracted to his prey.

With feigned innocence, she asked, “Will you be sneaking off again this evening to see her? Will you pay another call to that beastly smelling excuse for a farm?”

“No,” the Count replied, his voice once again composed. “I believe I’ll refrain from that for a while. Now that the stripling is back with her, it might prove difficult to have my way.”

“Then you have abandoned your plans for the human girl?” Now it was the Count’s turn to grin slyly. “Again, no. I must pay a call on someone else. Before I had the Medusas executed, the eldest of the sisters made mention of some curious characters.” “Characters? You mean humans, don’t you?”

“Yes. Using them, I shall see to it the whelp is destroyed— though you shall have my condolences.” There was nothing whatsoever of a consoling nature in his tone.

In a low voice Larmica asked, “Then you will have the girl, come what may?”

“Yes. Such exquisite features, such a fine, pale throat, and such mettle. These last few millennia, I’ve not seen such a precious female.” Here the Count’s tone changed. “Seeing the grueling battle she gave me the other night, never giving an inch, has only increased my ardor. Ten thousand years ago, was there not the case of our Sacred Ancestor failing to attain a human maiden of his heart’s desire?” As he said this, he gazed with reverence, equal to what any of the Greater Nobility would show, at the colossal painting occupying the wall behind him. “I have heard that the woman our Sacred Ancestor desired was named Mina the Fair, and she lived in the ancient Land of Angles. And it seems our Sacred Ancestor found the blood coursing beneath her nigh translucent skin sweeter and more delectable than any to ever wash across his tongue, though he had already drunk from the life founts of thousands of beauties.”

“Because of that woman, our Sacred Ancestor was reduced to dust,” Larmica added coldly, giving her father a plaintive look that wasn’t at all like her. “Then you won’t reconsider this under any circumstances, Father? The proud Lee family has occupied this region of the Frontier for five long millennia, and no human should ever be allowed to join it. All you have ever preyed upon have been drained of blood and left to die, and never have you suggested bringing any of them into the family. So why this one girl? I am certain I’m not alone in questioning this. I have no doubt my late mother would ask exactly the same thing.”

The Count gave a pained smile. He nodded, as if acknowledging the inevitable.

“That’s the point. I have been meaning to bring this up for some time now, but I intend to take the girl as my wife.”

Larmica looked as if a stake had just been pounded through her heart. Nothing shy of that could have delivered the same shock to this proud young woman. After a while, her characteristically pale skin became the color of paper, and she said, “I understand. If you have considered that far ahead, then I will no longer be unreasonable. Do as you wish. However, I believe I shall take my leave of this castle and set off on a long journey.” “A journey, you say? Very well.”

For all the distress in the Count’s voice, there was also a faint ring of relief. He knew in the very marrow of his bones that his beloved but temperamental daughter would never be able to coexist with the human girl, no matter how he might try to persuade them both.

“So, Father,” Larmica asked, her face as charming as if the problem had completely been forgotten, “how exactly do you intend to destroy the young upstart and claim the girl?”

By the time Doris got back to the farm with D, the sun was already high in the sky. Having heard an account of the previous night from his babysitter, Dr. Ferringo, Dan’s little

heart was steeped in anxiety as he awaited his sister’s return. When he saw the two of them return safely he was overjoyed, though his eyes nearly leapt out of his head at the same time.

“What the heck happened to you, Sis? You fall off your horse and bust your behind or something?”

“Oh, you hush up! It’s nothing, really. I’m just making D do this to make up for all the worrying he put us through,” Doris shouted from her place on D’s back. D was carrying her piggyback.

Her nerves had borne her through heated battles with two equally fiendish adversaries—the Count last night and Rei-Ginsei this morning—but the instant she stepped out of the foggy world and heard D tell her, “You’re all right now,” her nerves had just snapped. The next thing she knew, she was on his broad back and he was treading the road home. “Hey, that’s not funny. Put me down,” she had cried, her face flushing bright red. D quickly complied, but Doris, seemingly overcome with relief, couldn’t muster any strength in her legs. They wobbled under her when they touched the ground, forcing her to sit on the spot. And so he had carried her the rest of the way to the farm.

D carried Doris right on into her room and put her to bed. The second she felt the spring of the mattress beneath her, she dropped off to sleep, but at that moment she got the distinct impression she heard a vulgar voice laugh and say, “She had a nice big butt on her. Sometimes this job has its perks.”

When the sun was getting ready to set, Doris awoke. Dr. Ferringo had long since returned to town, and D and Dan were busy repairing the door and hallway damaged in the previous night’s conflict. “Don’t bother with that, D, we can take care of it ourselves. You’ve got to be worn out enough as it is.”

On the way back to the farm from the ruins, D hadn’t really told her the circumstances that had prevented him from returning the night before. He’d simply said, “I blew it.”

She understood that he meant he’d failed to destroy the Count. But beyond that, he didn’t say anything like, “Sorry I was gone so long,” or ask, “Did anything happen last night?” Quite peeved by that, Doris subjected him to a somewhat exaggerated account of the evening’s events. She didn’t even think it particularly odd that things she’d normally be too terrified to speak of now rolled right off her tongue, simply because D was with her.

Once she’d finished, D said, “Good thing you are all right,” and that was the end of it. It seemed a cold and insolent thing to say, but it left Doris thoroughly satisfied nonetheless, and if she was a fool for that, then so be it.

At any rate, she somehow knew D had done battle with the Count, and that, in addition, he’d had some other far from ordinary experience. That was why she said he must be worn out.

“Aw, that’s okay,” Dan countered. “My big brother D here is great at this stuff. Sis, you and I couldn’t have handled all this in a month. Take a gander outside. He took care of everything—he refilled the weed-killers, fixed the fence, and even swapped out the solar panels.”

“My goodness,” Doris exclaimed in amazement.

Earning premium pay, a Hunter might keep up his own home, but she’d never heard of one helping his employer with repairs. Especially in D’s case, where his reward was only... Doris’ train of thought got that far before she flushed red. She remembered what she’d promised him before she brought him there to work. “Anyway, sit down over there and have a rest. I’ll get dinner going straight away.”

“We’ll be done soon,” D said, screwing the door hinges back into place. “It’s been a while since I did this, and it’s tougher than I thought.”

“Yeah, but you’re great at it,” Dan interjected. “You tie the knot with him, Sis, and you’re set for life.”

“Dan!” Her voice nearly a shriek, she tried to smack the boy, but the little figure ducked her hand and scampered out the open door. Only the gorgeous youth and the girl of seventeen remained. The sun stained the edge of the prairie crimson, and the last rays of light spearing through the doorway gave the pair a rosy hue.

“D ...” Doris sounded obsessed as she said his name. “Uh, I was wondering, what were you planning on doing once your work here is done? If you’re not in such a hurry, I was thinking ...”

“I’m not in a hurry, but we don’t know if my work here will get finished or not.”

Doris’ heart sank. In her frailty, the girl instinctively reached out for support and piece of mind, only to run into this sledgehammer. There was no guarantee her foe would be destroyed. She’d been lucky to weather two assaults so far, but the battle still raged on.

“D,” Doris said once again, the same word sounding like it came from a completely different person this time. “Once you finish up with that, come on back to the living room. I’d like to discuss what kind of strategy we should take from here on out.” “Understood.”

The voice that came over his shoulder sounded satisfied.

Their enemy was extraordinarily quick about making his “visit.” That evening, Greco was out carousing with his hoodlum friends, trying to work off some of the rage they still felt from the beating they’d taken at the hands of Rei-Ginsei’s gang. He was headed down a deserted street for home when he happened to see a strange carriage stop in front of the inn, and he quickly concealed himself in the shadows.

Stranger than strange, from the time the black carriage appeared out of the darkness till the time it came to a halt, it never made a single sound. The horses’ hooves beat the earth clearly enough, and the wagon wheels spun, but not even the sound of the scattering gravel reached Greco’s ears.

That there's a Noble’s carriage...

This much Greco grasped. His drunken stupor dissipated instantly.

So, this is the prick that’s after Doris? Curiosity—and feelings of jealousy toward this rival suitor—held Greco in place. The door opened and a single figure garbed in black stepped down to the ground. By the light of a lamp dangling from the eaves of the inn, the pallid countenance of a man with a supernatural air to him came into view. I take it that’s the lord of the manner then.

Greco knew this intuitively. Though he’d never seen the man before, he matched the reliable descriptions of the fiend that’d been hammered into his head by village elders when he was still a child. Soon the carriage raced off, and the Count disappeared into the inn. What the hell brings him into town? Clouded as they were by low-grade alcohol, his brain cells weren’t up to neatly fitting the Count, the inn, and Doris together, but they did manage to give him a push in the right direction and tell him, Follow him, stupid.

On entering the inn, Greco found the clerk standing frozen behind the counter. The clerk seemed to be under some sort of spell; his eyes were open wide and his pupils didn’t track Greco’s hand as he waved it up and down. Greco opened the register. There were ten rooms. All of them were on the second floor. And there was only one guest staying there. The register put him in room #207.

Name: Charles E. Chan. Occupation: Artist.

Careful not to make a sound, Greco padded lightly up the stairs and made his way down to the door of the room in question. Light spilled out through crevasses around the door.

The guest is a guy, so I don’t suppose the vampire is here to drink his blood. Maybe he’s one of the Count’s cronies? I wonder if this clown had to call in help to try and make Doris his own. Greco pulled out what looked like a stethoscope made of thin copper wire. Hunters swore by this sort of listening device. Quite a while back, Greco had won it in a rigged card game. The gossamer

fairy wing, set in a tiny hole in the bell, could catch the voices of creatures otherwise inaudible to human ears, and those sounds were conveyed up the copper wire and into the listener’s ears. Ordinarily, the device would be used when searching for the hiding places of supernatural creatures too dangerous to approach, or to listen in on their private conversations, but Greco had made an art out of putting it to the windows of all the young ladies in town. Securing its bell to the door with a suction cup, he put the ear tips in and began to listen. An eerie voice that was not of this world reverberated from the other side of the door. Greco put his eye to the keyhole for good measure.

Rei-Ginsei was astonished when the supposedly bolted door opened without a sound and a figure in black leisurely strolled in. Quickly realizing the intruder was a Noble, he puzzled over the meaning of the visit even as he reached for the shrike-blades on the desk.

The intruder gazed at him with glittering eyes as he made a truly preposterous proposal. “I know all about you and your cohorts,” the figure in black said. “That you wiped out a Frontier Defense Force patrol, and that you tried, and failed, to kill a certain young lady. I have business with that particular girl. However, someone remains in my way. That was the person you encountered out in the fog, the one you were powerless to stop.”

“What 011 earth could you be referring to?” Rei-Ginsei asked, with feigned innocence. “I am but a simple traveling artisan. The mere mention of such sordid goings-on is enough to chill my blood.”

The black-garbed intruder laughed coldly and tossed a silver badge onto the bed. It had belonged to an FDF patrolman. “I know you believe all the horses and corpses were eaten or burned, and their ashes scattered to the four winds, but unfortunately such is not the case,” the voice said coolly. “Monitoring devices in my castle are linked to a spy satellite stationed overhead, and