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Hugo lowered the hat back into the bag. He never took his eyes off Sylvia. His eyebrows furled. “What if we call off all deals?”

Sylvia sat upright. She placed both hands on the table and leaned forward with her head tilted down. Her eyes narrowed, and she raised her right eyebrow. Her strawberry blonde, wavy hair, parted to the left, obscured part of her face from the flickering candlelight and cast it into darkness. Her sharp jawline was much more pronounced against the flickering light. She asserted her dominance over the negotiations.

“I would advise against calling off this deal. We can make life, not only for you, but all of Newbury Grove miserable,” she answered. “We’re allowing your friends to live. We only take the blood we need, instead of leaving them bone dry.”

She leaned forward. “We will ruin your friends, the Raskins. They’ll suffer as they watch their life’s work go up in flames. And when it’s complete, I’ll personally rip their heads off,” Sylvia threatened. “But I won’t stop there. The streets will run red with blood as my colony of vampires descends on this town. And I’ll make both of you watch.”

Hugo’s breathing quickened, and his heart raced. The thud, thud, thud, of his heart beats pulsed through his ears, trying to drown out Sylvia’s threats. His eyes darted to Sebastian, whose wicked, ear-to-ear grin sent a shiver down his spine, and then back to Sylvia.

You have to do it.

“And when all is said and done, and you two are the remaining survivors, you’ll watch in horror as the other one bleeds out,” Sylvia added.

Control the sweater . ..

“A toast.” Sebastian stretched out across the table for his glass. He raised it aloft.

Sylvia raised her glass and matched him.

“To our new empire!” Sebastian shouted.

“To our new empire!” Sylvia answered. “You can either join us or be destroyed by us.”

Sylvia and Sebastian leaned their heads back and took a drink.

Control the fight!

Hugo flicked his arm against the chair leg, releasing the last bit of tape. The stake slid down into his waiting hand. He lunged for Sebastian’s black dress shirt. It was tight against Sebastian’s muscular chest, and his fingers struggled to securely grab onto the material. Hugo’s hand slid across the shirt, but he managed to snare Sebastian’s suit vest. With a singular motion, Hugo yanked Sebastian toward him and stabbed him in the chest with the stake.

“Die, you fucker!” Hugo shouted.

Sebastian dropped his wineglass and focused on the wooden mini hockey stick planted directly in his chest. Sebastian glanced up at Hugo in shocked disbelief. Hugo growled at him and pushed deeper with the makeshift stake. It wouldn’t budge. He hit something.

Hugo leaned in, trying to drive it deeper into his chest and nick his heart. The wooden hockey stick cracked and broke in half. Part of it jutted out of Sebastian’s chest. Sebastian’s shock faded into rage. His eyes narrowed. His nose snarled. His fangs jetted out to their fully elongated position.

Sylvia shrieked in anger. She stood up and pushed the table toward Hugo; its remaining contents rained down as the table knocked him and his chair backward. He landed with a thud onto the ground, the ribbed chair back smashing into Hugo’s back. Sylvia pushed on the table to pin him down.

The force of the table edge pressed against his abdomen, trying to cut him in half. Hugo cried out in agony as sharp pains cut across his stomach and back. He tried to push the table off, but the chairheld him at a decline, so he couldn’t get leverage. He squirmed, but the table dug deeper.

Sebastian leapt from his chair and grabbed the table, forcing it down harder onto Hugo, who roared in anguish.

“Check the door,” Sebastian growled.

“Are you okay, my love?” Sylvia asked.

“I’m fine. Check the door,” he answered as he ripped the broken stake from his chest. His black dress shirt was damp as he bled from his wound.

Sylvia sprinted to the front door. Hugo could hear the door opening and closing moments later. The audible click of the door lock echoed through the restaurant.

“It’s clear. I don’t see anything,” she responded as she returned.

“Where is she?” Sebastian yelled. “Are you alone?”

Hugo struggled to breathe as the weight of Sebastian drove the table further into his stomach. He tried to respond, but could only muster more sounds of torment.

Sylvia moved like a stalking predator at an even, methodical pace, ready to pounce on injured prey. “Would you like to do the honors, my dear?” she asked Sebastian.

“While I’d like nothing more, I think it would be more meaningful coming from you,” Sebastian responded. “Grab the table. I’ll get his arms.”