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In the shadows, a man was lying on the ground, a woman leaning over him. Her long blond hair fell in a wild disarray of unfettered curls covering her face. Deep, urgent growls uttered forth from her throat as she gnawed at the fallen man’s throat. The hands gripping the man’s head were dark with dirt and her nails were black and broken. The dark blue dress she wore was torn at the seams and frayed around the hem.

I could only stare in fascination as the rumpled creature tore at the man, grunting with the dark desire of the hunger.

Quite suddenly the other vampire sensed that someone was near, and her head snapped up. Eyes glowing like the fires of Hades, her gaze swept over the street and finally came to rest on me. A harsh growl uttered forth from her throat.

“Please, I do not wish to-“ I began to say softly, but a commotion nearby shut off my words.

“Over here!”

It was a man’s voice that shouted, breaking the silence of the night.

I automatically slunk backwards into a doorway and enshrouded myself in the shadows.

The vampire whirled about on her hands and knees just as several young men elegantly dressed in fine black suits raced into the street. They took in the ghastly scene before them with horrified expressions and several crossed themselves.

“She attacked Richard,” shouted a young man with fiery red hair.

He had an accent I did not recognize.

It took a mere moment for me to realize that the men did not seem shocked by the scene before them. In fact, they seemed extremely excited by the whole situation. Several were actually smiling. Only the red haired man seemed to show any remorse at all over witnessing the death of his comrade.

I realized then that they were vampire hunters.

I immediately shrank further into the darkness.

The vampire hissed wildly as the men advanced on her. Scrambling backwards, she perched atop her victim and growled menacingly at the vampire hunter. Without hesitation, one of the men pulled a huge cross from his overcoat and she shrieked in horror.

“Run,” I whispered fervently. “Run!”

The vampire did not run. She leapt. With a scream, she flung herself upwards, sailing over the heads of the men. Her bare feet hit the cold stones and she was off, running like the crazed vampire she truly was. She was one of those the madness had never left.

There were six vampire hunters and five ran after the vampire. I kept waiting for the creature to leap into the night sky and fly off, but instead she ran, barely keeping ahead of the hunters. The last hunter, the one with the fiery hair and the strange accent, knelt over his fallen comrade. He doused him with Holy Water and began to pray.

I fidgeted. Either I had to wait in the shadows and slip away when the hunter left or pursue the vampire to attempt to help her and risk exposure. I hesitated, then made my decision. Hiking up my skirts, I rushed into the street and ran after the vampire hunters.

As my cloak brushed past the vampire hunter kneeling at the fallen man’s side, he whirled about on his knees in surprise.

“Madam! Madam! Do not follow! You must not follow! It is dangerous! Let us take care of the situation,” he called out anxiously.

I ignored him, running faster. My soft shoes padded against the ground as I ran and my cloak fluttered behind me like great wings. I was not as quick as I would have been if I had fed, and my strength was diminished. Dredging up every ounce of my power, I forced myself to move faster.

The mad vampire fled in a wild, frenzied state of mind. Blindly she ran, falling over holes in the road, slamming into walls as she attempted to turn corners, and tripping over thin air. Her muddled mind obviously could not reason. It was inevitable that the five hunters behind her finally managed to outwit her. They forced her into a narrow alley that had no exit. Together, the five hunters advanced on her, blocking her escape, torches held high over their heads.

One hunter, an Eastern Orthodox priest, held a huge crucifix in his hands, and the flickering torchlight illuminated its golden beauty.

The vampire shrieked in rage and fear, her features distorted in the flickering light of the torches. My eyes burned at the sight of the cross and I tried not to look upon it as I drew back, merging with the shadows. I braced myself against a wall, my mind spinning out half formed plans of escape for both of us.

The priest began to chant as he advanced and the other men drew forward to encircle the vampire, forcing her back against the far wall. Tears tinged with blood were running down her cheeks, washing away the filth and revealing her luminescent flesh. She was beautiful and desolate. My heart broke for her and a sob caught in my throat.

“Do not gaze into her eyes,” a man with a heavy French accent ordered.

The priest’s chanting rose in pitch and fervor. I felt my flesh crawl at the sound. They were going to kill the vampire right before me and I could not bear it. The vampire was mad with the hunger, a condition I understood all too well. It was obvious to me that the vampire was confused and certainly not rational enough to defend herself or deliver herself unto safety.

A vampire hunter with pale blue eyes and blond hair knelt down and opened a case he was carrying. The torchlight glimmered off the fierce knife within.

”Franco, here,” he called out in quick, precise tones. He sounded Scandinavian. The hunter drew out a stake and handed it to a short, stout Spanish man that stepped to his side. “The duty is yours to perform. ”

“I am honored, Svend,” Franco said reverently.