The exorcist clenched his hand in fear. The mayor’s note fell onto the parquet, crumpled.

  “What the fuck does this mean?!” Xavier, the muscular ex-commander, was holding a gruesome sanguine rifle. He was standing back-to-back with his wife; her eyes glimmering with blue haze. Cautiously, all other hunters made distance from each other.

  The unresponsive young lady in blue and pink scowled. “Noo~. I wanted to go ho-ome soon~. Do you guys know who the vampire is?” The wavering voice lent her an eerie, almost inhuman presence.

  “I ain’t prepared for this…” The oldest man, despite his striking attire, responded with dismay. With a missing arm and haggard skin, he looked past his prime, to say the least.

  Eugene frowned. His eyes darted from person to person, but he was among the few who didn’t draw a weapon. He had been anticipating the moment ever since interrogating Violet proved successful.

  “H-Hey! It’s not me, I just noticed the wine being strange!” The young lad expressed his paranoia. His palms were busy with a pair of intricate daggers.

  “It was none of us, Romeo.” Eugene sighed. “Any person could sense a cup of wine tasting odd. Vampires are plain repulsed by the blood of witches.”

  “So fuckin’ what?” Julius bent his knees slightly, bracing himself. “You’ll slaughter us all searching for that vampire, Eugene. You’re the biggest threat here!”

  “Stop!” Sabrine, the graceful lady with a demonic arm, took a step forward. “It’s not the time to dig past wounds. How do we find the vampire?”

  The fatal question stunned the crowd. No matter how unexpected the turn was, they were left with no choice but to find the impostor or succumb to Death. Eugene started massaging his temples, perplexed.

  “There is no ultimate solution. Sure, a vampire would die without drinking blood for too long, and a stake in the heart would paralyze them, but that’s it.”

  “No shit! So we need to kill a person to figure this out?” Julius displayed his scepticism. “20 years of being the legendary hunter, and you couldn’t find other ways?”

  “Can you shut the fuck up!?” Eugene became agitated.

  No words dropped. On edge, all stuck mercenaries started to realize the fragility of the situation. Emotions were the right tool to deal the strongest blow to the enemy, but it was unknown where to strike.

  “What about fire? The Devilish flame?” The wife of the ex-commander spoke up. Next to her lover, she appeared more composed than anyone else.

  Tobias, the trembling exorcist, pursed his lips. “No. Only those who were bitten can’t use Devil Arts, and only if they were not an acolyte beforehand… Besides, witches can’t use them as well!”

  A loud snap almost interrupted the speech of the nervous man. Demonstratively, Eugene opened his palm. A tawny flame was soaring just above his glove. It was dancing and flickering, strangely calming the milieu.

  “Conrad is just a filthy politician with surprising connections. He knows nothing about our world, and Carmen’s suggestion can finish the task in less than an hour.”

  Another snap followed, and a pale-white fire appeared near the youngest hunter. Echo after echo, everyone besides Violet and Lapis—the two witches—repeated the motion. Until it was the exorcist’s turn. He braced in silence.

  “Tobias. Don’t make us nervous.” Julius cracked his neck. The exorcist didn’t utter a word in response.

  “Hey, right~!” The sinister huntress in navy and pink tilted her head. “Tobias, it will make us happy! It will make you happy too!”

  “Silence! I am a man of God.” He clenched his fists. “I am not becoming a scapegoat of devilspawns like you!”

  “What kind of fuckin-”

  “Wait.” Lapis, the witch in cyan, interrupted the verbal attack from Julius. “We have time. We have forces. What we don’t have is information. Let’s discuss the mission diplomatically, without forcing anyone to sacrifice their beliefs.”

  “Unexpected to hear that from your kind, but I agree.” Bitter, Tobias scowled.

  Lapis seemingly dismissed his comment and pointed at the Dining Room.

  “We also have enough chairs.”

  …

  Twelve chairs scraped the shiny parquet, placed in a chaotically circular manner. Nobody uttered a word; it was as though insults were contending with calmness constantly. The hunters sat, one after another. The sanguine rifle in Xavier’s hands became translucent. It turned into a puddle of red light and then flew into the skin of its master. Among the tribal tattoos, a cherry-colored drawing of a long gun appeared on his exposed shoulder.

  “So, Lapis is right. Whatever the situation is, we have an advantage.” Without asking, he spoke up first. His words seemed almost too rational for a man of such fierce looks. “If the mayor is right, we have a lot of time, a lot of resources, and, most importantly, many allies. Best case, there are ten trustworthy fellows, and just one enemy.”

  “Best case?” Romeo fixed his headband. “You mean, there can be more vampires?”

  “Possibly. The mayor did not give us enough details.”

  Romeo bit his lip in anxiety. “I don’t want to be a contrarian, but… are we sure there is a vampire here? I thought we were a great team during… our last mission together.”

  “Indeed.” Eugene took off his wide-brimmed hat. “Most of us have been working for the Guild for several decades. Why would anyone suspect us now?”

  “Maybe ‘ey think someone was bitten?” The white-bearded veteran assumed.

  “How would they know that someone was bitten without knowing who it was?” The graceful lady with a demonic arm rejected the suggestion. Xavier, the ex-commander, nodded.

  “I agree. The whole mission has been too fishy from the start. Since some vampires are also decent at shapeshifting, I suspected that a personality was stolen. But questioning each of us separately would be a better method than setting up a mission of this caliber.”

  “Then I have the first topic we can vote on.” Julius put one of his legs over the other. “How about we shut them all off until they clear our fuckin’ circumstances?”

  Xavier glanced at his wife the same way Eugene glanced at Violet. The four of them silently nodded, although the ginger hunter was a bit reluctant to agree with the suited man. None of the other in the group objected, and Julius raised his palm.

  Clenching his fist, he released a transparent wave of unknown force. Its ripples spread throughout the mansion and even further. Whispers, slithers, hisses, and bawling weeps receded beyond the Manor's fence. Naturally, the tall windows remained transparent, but at least no ghastly visages were soaring around.

  A uniformed soldier stood up. Seeing darkness around herself, she sighed. Her figure then took shape in a square room lit by a single candle. It was resting on a wooden table next to several piles of stacked papers. A man in a thin peaked cap was sorting the documents.

  “Sir, the group has blocked our deep surveillance.”

  “So soon...” His melodic voice was still full of youth. “Have you gathered anything useful after we put down the barrier?”

  “Nothing you don't know of, sir.”

  “Continue monitoring. I will participate in the mission once I'm done with all of this.”

  “Yes, sir.” The soldier bowed.

  Once she left the room, the commander's fingers blinked with dark green.

  “This shall be a bountiful harvest.”

  Half past twelve. Still sitting in the Main Hall, Violet yawned. The purple curls on her forehead went askew, and she clumsily fixed them with her wrists.

  “So… now we just pick a lookout and go to sleep?”

  “Right.” Eugene nodded, folding his arms. “But before that, I’d like to ask if you have found anything on the other floors. We all need a general picture.”

  “Oh, right.” The cedar-skinned man responded first. His tunic, white with patterned-red contours, was hanging loose on his slim body. “My imps have checked the bottom floors. In fact, there are only two. One of them is below us. There are small bedrooms, the kitchen, the scullery, and another, smaller dining room. Looks like it was made specifically for valets and housemaids to live in.”

  “The other floor is below it.” Julius suddenly interrupted the speaker. “Hardly a floor, it’s just a spacious cellar with tons of barrels. At least we have wine.”

  “We can’t survive on just wine. Did Conrad lie about the food?” Violet voiced her concerns, and Eugene raised an eyebrow in return. He was still baffled that the witch had helped someone who couldn’t even convince her she’d have enough to eat.

  “No, no, sorry.” The man in the tunic spoke again. “I simply forgot. Of course, there is a lot of food in the kitchen. Many fruits and vegetables, and meat that is kept in frozen crates. I think an acolyte of the Ninth prepared them for us.”

  For a short period of time, the hunters expressed their other doubts. Yet, under routine questions and plain answers, suspicion lingered. The absence of trust in the mayor did not mean its presence in others. Every gesture, be it a nod or a smirk, could suddenly cause a battle to commence. Yet, the group silently proceeded to the corridor on the first floor, one where Violet was previously tailing Eugene.

  “So… these are the rooms you were talking about?” Carmen, the wife of the ex-commander, asked the ginger man.

  “Yes. Enough for us all, and we’ll be pretty close to each other. No vampire can take us all out at the same time.”

  “Tha’s right! And none of us will go out without a loud battle!” Meteoreine—the oldest hunter—raised his only fist. He rarely spoke, but when he did, the walls trembled from his ringing voice. This cheerful spirit drew a warm smile on Eugene’s face.

  “Still, I wanted to show you a strange thing.” Eugene opened a door on the western side of the corridor.

  Inside, a rather boring scenery lay. A full bed, carefully prepared by servants, was standing close to a wooden desk. Next to the wall with a gas lamp, a tall closet rested in the corner. Simple wallpapers would strike the eye of any visitor, compared to the opulent look of the lower floor. However, Eugene’s warning was not about that.

  “There are no windows!?”

  Romeo, the youngest hunter, opened his eyes wide. Indeed, the position of the corridor was bizarrely defined. The other side of the wall would lead to the viewing gallery. An opening would be unfitting there.

  “For Eugene or, well, me, it’s even better… But you guys don’t really like darkness, right?”

  “I do~” The eerie lady answered first. “I like this. Very much. He will like this too~.” Her small eyes were covered by black hair, but she stared squarely into the dark space. Other hunters glanced at each other without any particular thoughts. Eugene cleared his throat.

  “Khm. One more thing.” He made his way through the crowd and opened the opposite door. This time, he walked in and pulled the pinkish curtains to the side. Pale moonlight reached the wooden floor. Even so, it was not complete. The tall, round structure was in the way of the view for anyone who would reside there. The round Stargazing tower covered a part of the Moon.

  “What the fuck is this?” Julius cringed. “Who in their right mind would keep their guests here?”

  “Mayor Conrad, it seems. This manor is far from being his only property, but why would he even keep this place?” Eugene was just as confused.

  The sound of paper rustling distracted the crowd. Xavier walked out of the neighboring space with a few white sheets in his enormous hands.

  “There are more on the table. I suggest we note all of our questions and ask them at the gate when the time comes.” He separated a singular sheet, almost tearing it apart. “I think the lookout will also need one.”

  “Oh, right! We still haven’t decided who’s the one, though.” Romeo swung his hands. The playful attitude was unsubtly hinting towards his own candidacy.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “I vote for Met.”

  “Huh!?”

  Eugene pointed at the old man with no arm, startling the latter. Sabrine, the lady with a thick braid, leaned back.

  “I would argue he’s the most vulnerable here, no offense.“ An apologetic nod added to her words. “Perhaps, you’re trying to lure out the vampire with an easy target?”

  The conjecture landed curtly. Condemning looks pierced Eugene from each direction, but nobody acted surprised. He tiredly exhaled,

  “I have my reasons, but I will only state them if your surmises will not be in the fucking way.” The ill-mannered answer did not intimidate the lady. Eugene continued.

  “If there’s a vampire here, Met is less likely to be one. He bears the longest history with the Guild and has done innumerable things to damage the whole vampire race. Any of their organizations would prefer him dead, and I also doubt that he would suddenly grow warm towards bloodsuckers.”

  “Unless he doesn’t want to die!” Violet shrugged, stealing the spot of the speaker. “Meteoreine, you're like eighty, right? Many people decide to join the vampires’ ranks when death approaches…”

  A roaring laugh interrupted the witch.

  “Bwahaha! Sweetheart, it's only prisoners an’ bedridden folks! You think at my age we wanna live? I’d rather die on spot to ease your task!”

  “Hey!~ Don’t say that, grandpa! We love you~.” The eerie huntress gently patted him on the back. Eugene smiled in amusement.

  “...right. As for the danger part, we’re going to switch the lookout every time anyway. If there’s the safest night, it's this one, when all of us are alive and well. Besides…” His grin widened as he looked at the old hunter. “Met is the one I inherited my title from. Taking this mission and showing up - there’s still a ton of fight in that aged heart!”

  “Ain’t arguing with that, boy.” Met flexed his arm, enjoying the sudden praise.

  “Boy? I ain’t a boy, old man, that’s a boy.” Eugene pointed at Romeo, who was slightly lost in the friendly banter.

  “Alright, alright.” Xavier waved the papers to reclaim the attention. “I agree to an extent. The vampire, if there is one, will starve to death in three days. That is, if they don’t need even more blood to use Blood Arts, which is a definite requirement to be able to fight any of us. For now, be wary, but don’t exhaust yourself.”

  “Uh, I have an idea. Just a safeguard to make sure everything is less… dangerous.” The pouty imp master spoke quietly.

  “What is it, Loki?”

  “It’s Saba. Call me Saba. As for the idea, I still need some time to prepare, and I’m not sure you will all agree. Let me demonstrate it after we all pick our apartments. Just before sleep, maybe.”

  The crowd exchanged uncertain gazes, but ultimately agreed to wait for the idea to become more concise. Once there was nothing to discuss, they visited the first room of the corridor to grab their private belongings. It was empty and unfurnished, hurriedly made into temporary storage by the housekeepers. Eugene then picked one of the “strange” rooms without a window. To one side, Romeo settled in; to the other, Violet was loudly unpacking her bags. The table that used to stand closer to the staircase was now near the busy part of the area, supported by a wide chair. Several white sheets and an ink pen were waiting for the lookout to take his position.

  Eugene was sitting on the bed; the light from the corridor was coming through the doorway. Apart from a ceramic jug filled with water, there was only a leather valise next to the man. He shoved his face into his gloved palms, as if praying with eyes open. The clock in his mind was spinning in circles. The rainy morning, the renegade acolyte begging for money, the chatter in the Guild’s quarters, the reward for the mission that now seemed even more absurd. Everything that came before the mission was fading away like a distant memory. The wit of a true hunter was always focusing on what’s at hand, and now the daily routine was quickly engulfed by theories, suspicions, and possible outcomes. The smell of the bedsheets was almost intoxicating, the light was-

  “Are you okay?”

  A mellow voice brought Eugene back. The call was made by the blonde witch who softly stepped into the space. Her hair was neatly done, its artificial curves underlining the gentle milky face. Wearing an azure cotton bodice and a split skirt of the same shade, she resembled someone who would pose for an artist rather than slay vampires.

  “Uhm… I can apply a calming curse, if you want me to.”

  Eugene blinked a few times.

  “No, you don’t… Honestly, I’d be glad. Just make it quick.”

  Lapis smiled in response and approached the hunter. She took a glass vessel out of a pocket on her belt. Inside it, a powdery substance rested.

  “What’s the ritual?” Eugene inquired.

  “Nothing special, just you holding a specific herb. This mix has the herbs needed for common rituals.”

  She unscrewed the wooden lid and put a pinch of the powder into the man’s hand.

  “Veil.”

  A placating covered both her and Eugene. The latter closed his eyes, torn between deep thought and cast tranquility.

  “Don’t put your guard down like that. Though I’m glad you trust me.” Lapis smiled.

  Watching her walk away, Eugene quietly said, “Can you do one more thing for me?”

  The young woman turned around, her lips curled in curiosity.

  The hunter in the white tunic stopped in the middle of the room of Fine Art. The ceiling was as tall as the viewing gallery above the Main Hall. A few rows of vertically stacked paintings were hanging from it. The windows were more restricted, providing space for marble busts and monumental porcelain. The carved furniture was an exposition instead of an implement, but nobody was going to use it regardless.

  “So, what's this about?” Violet walked in with the group. She was careful not to touch anything.

  “Well, our personal stuff has been checked by the Mayor's personnel, so I doubt there is anything a vampire would bring...” The frail man immediately started explaining his scheme. “But, you see, a vampire can also feed on others. Maybe not necessarily turning you into a vampire, but just biting you, for example, in your sleep. Just to fill their stomach.”

  “So? You want to use your flesh-n-bone Devil Arts to protect us?” Julius spoke up while fixing his silver hair.

  “To an extent, yes. I-it may scare some of you.”

  Tobias, the exorcist donning a black robe, immediately recoiled. It was not fear in his eyes, but rather disgust. The pouty hunter continued.

  “I usually use small demons to perform my Arts, but they're just flesh in their essence. Flesh includes skin, too. I want- I can infuse my imps into your skin so they immediately react if you're bitten or, for example, cut. That way, even when you're not aware, I will be notified and able to help.”

  “Sounds goo-”

  “I don't agree!” The exorcist barged in on Eugene’s praise. “You devilspawns can do whatever to your bodies, but I belong to God. I'd sooner get bitten!”

  “For fuck's sake, again?” Carmen, the wife of the ex-commander, threw her hands. “Listen, you'll be more useful to God by being alive. He should understand a sacrifice for the greater good.”

  “Don't tell God what to do!” Genuine fury seeped through the man's wrinkled visage. “You all gained your powers through possessions and horrible deeds; you're no authority for me.”

  “Tobias, please. I wanted to ask you to help me.” The master of the imps spoke with sudden softness.

  The exorcist didn't retort and simply turned his head to the speaker.

  “You see, Tobias, even without your beliefs, letting someone plant demons into one's body isn't safe on its own. I expected more of you to disagree, since an imposter would use this position to attack everyone else at once.”

  “Exactly! It's not just my whims!” Tobias clenched his fists.

  “Right. And you're the only one who can help. You, and your faith.”

  Eugene and Julius glanced at each other in mild confusion, but the plan became clearer.

  “Tobias, you're the only messenger of the Church here. Use your powers to restrict my imps. This way, they can't attack anyone, even if I want them to. Please.”

  The wrinkled man in the black robe pursed his lips. The conflict in his soul was not between bad and good, but between bringing evil onto others or onto himself. Through clenched teeth, words of hope resounded.

  “... I agree. For God's future victory, and nothing else.”

  Hearing this, the hunter in the center smiled. Even through joy, a distant sadness lurked below his eyes.

  Not giving grounds for more dispute, he pulled the collar of his tunic to the side. His revealed shoulder started wriggling like boiling water. It was almost liquified when eleven winged creatures of skin and bone rose upwards. Their limbs and bodies stretched, covered with a yellow mass. A small flick of a hand from their master, and the odious creatures bowed before the exorcist.

  Tobias pulled a miniature bottle from a hidden patch of the robe. A drop of holy water turned into light before forming an unreadable soaring symbol. The exorcist chanted,

  “Sigil of Obedience!”

  “Accepting it, no demon may harm a human!”

  No tamed creature would have the option to refuse. The light dispersed and branded the imps.

  “Now it may feel unpleasant. Sorry.” The hunter in the tunic clenched his fist. With that, every person in the room felt a pair of wings land on their shoulders. Slowly pressing against the skin of their carriers, the imps became fluid. Their presence extended through the bodies of those to be protected, causing some to shiver.

  “Dear God…” The exorcist endured with all his might.

  The long day was coming to an end. Almost every deed was done, except for one final touch.

  “Grandpa-a!~ Old people I know like to sleep a lot. Will you be okay not sleeping?” The black-haired huntress peeked from her room. Her small, unnaturally round eyes were penetrating the table where the oldest hunter sat.

  “No worry, girl! I’ll be guarding your sleep tonight, so be safe!”

  Eugene raised his eyebrow in response to the ambiguous statement. He was hoping the words were meant to deliver kindness.

  “Hey, and don't forget to knock before askin’ something and walkin’ out!”

  Hearing the last reminder, the eerie huntress smiled. That face with awfully stretched, thin lips was the last thing Eugene saw before closing his door. He then walked backwards, took off his hat, his cape, and his green vest. The latter piece of clothing met the wooden floor with a daunting bash. Although the only source of light was a slim gap from the space to the corridor, the darkness was the most natural habitat for an acolyte of the eighth circle.

  After pulling the white cover to the side, the hunter flopped down on the bed. His right hand pushed a button on a golden pocket watch.

  “Already past two… So, exactly an hour from now.”

  The time passed swiftly. Even though the leather belt was still holding the two weapons, they were not an obstacle to Eugene's comfort. When the arrow of the watch pointed at the number “3”, he opened his eyes at once.

  Three rhythmic knocks.

  “Uh? What’s the deal?” The old man’s ringing voice landed even harder after the prolonged silence.

  “Room seven. It’s Eugene.”

  “Oh, no worry! One second…”

  Heavy steps approached from the end of the corridor. They lingered until reaching the seventh room. Eugene hesitated. The lookout did not need to come this close. Not without a thought to at least ask about the need of the one who called.

  “I’m here.”

  The words felt loud, as though they were closer than the hinge in the doorway. Eugene frowned, glad that he kept the holster next to him at all times. A simple command echoed in his mind.

  “Negative!”

  With one blink, the eyes of the ginger hunter became pitch-black. The image before him was surreal as light gave in to shadows. Darkness was his domain, and he could sense it on the other side of the wall. Next to the door, the tall and broad form of the lookout stood. His only hand tightened on the handle of a two-sided battle axe. The weapon was raised high, ready to strike at any moment.

  “Why. What are your intentions, Met?”

  The barrel of a silver revolver was pointed at the back of the head of the old hunter. Eugene spoke hoarsely but restrained. His figure was already behind the man with an axe.

  “If you want to kill me, look me in my eyes.”

  The leathered palm cocked the hammer.

  “Do not shoot me… It was a precaution… In case you attack me.” The old hunter’s voice sounded suppressed for the first time. Eugene shook his head.

  “Attack you? I didn’t even ask you to come close.”

  “Huh? You didn’t?”

  The battle axe became translucent. In a matter of a few seconds, it turned into a purple light and was engulfed by the wrinkled neck. A crude image of the same color vanished somewhere on the back of the old hunter. He turned around despite being held at gunpoint.

  “What do you want then?”

  Astonished, Eugene lowered his revolver.

  “I want to use the jakes.”

  Two pairs of steps descended the limestone staircase in the Main Hall. A silent contradiction was sparkling between the crude apparel of the hunters and the grand, pure air of the mansion. Eugene shook his head. Fitful tension joined the tiredness that dragged at his heart.

  “For Hell’s sake, you thought that was a fine idea?” He addressed the old man who was treading second. Despite the aroused tone, the response was a bit delayed.

  “Eugene… You think I’m too old for this, eh?” The aged voice brought unexpected melancholy. “I wished to act smart; almost cost us both our lives that whim…”

  “It served us well that I didn’t shoot.”

  “Ha! Shoot and alert everyone? Them other kids would finish you after me.”

  Despite his previous attempts to keep the spirits high, Eugene refused to be dishonest.

  “That… is where you’re wrong, old man. Look.”

  A few meters before the suite of water closets, the ginger man stopped. Meteoreine watched him open one of the tall casement windows. Fresh autumn air fluttered the draperies inwards as Eugene pulled the silver revolver again. This time, the barrel was pointed at the distant horizon.

  Eugene let off a shot. Then, another one. And three shots more. The aged hunter watched in awe as the mauve bullets flew out without making a sound. There was only a dull thud when the hammer kicked the frame of the revolver. Moreover, a second later, the bullets returned to the cylinder.

  “I call this revolver Garlic. With it, murdering you would be a piece of cake. Covering the traces is also perfectly within my domain.” Eugene sounded nonchalant, but in the end, the old hunter took that as plain boasting. His gloom seemed to deepen.

  “The Serenity curse I can believe — but the Binding?” The venerable speech did not hide Met’s rich impression. “It was barely a myth when I was still a young lad… Where’d you find a witch who also knew the corresponding potion?”

  “A random merchant from the outskirts. Call it good luck.”

  “Good luck? Ha! I’d say good secrets.”

  The revolver was now holstered again. Yet, Eugene kept staring into the open window. Be it neighboring manors or tall evergreens, beneath them was unnatural life. Soldiers on duty were striding from tent to tent, keeping their eyes on the epicenter of their own mission. Eugene spat in their direction.

  “Secrets are hard to keep when you’re in our ranks.” He turned around to look the former legendary hunter in the face. “That witch was killed the day after making my revolver. The Guild tracked her down solely because of me.”

  “Tch.” Met shared the sentiment. “I hope your bullets marked a couple o’ heads before returning!”

  Eugene chuckled and entered the suite with water closets. Soon, he returned with evident relief. To his surprise, the old man entered the suite right after.

  “One always checks what others wouldn’t! Imagine if I caught the bloodsucker by the way they took a piss? Ha!”

  The lampooning failed to convince Eugene. The joy of the old man was fading with every breath. When they were walking back, his wrinkled eyes were full of forced glee.

  “Don’t lose your spirits. A weak hunter wouldn’t be called ‘Meteor’”

  “Tha’s just a moniker, though.” He stopped near the table with a pen and paper. “In the lands my late mother was from, ‘Mete’ meant ‘brave’, and ‘Oreine’ meant ‘heart’. Here it got a different meaning, though.”

  Eugene smirked in amusement. “A moniker, huh? Sounds a bit behind the times.”

  “Behind the times? You’re the one calling your gun Garlic, you carrot-head!”

  “Carrot-head!?”

  A couple of seconds passed, and both hunters breathed a heartfelt laugh. For both of them, it felt like an unspoken need fulfilled. Eugene fixed his brown shirt and sighed.

  “Yeah, if only vampires stayed the same as in former ages... Well, our jobs wouldn’t be paying this much.”

  The goodnights were exchanged, and a new line of ink appeared in the note of the lookout. At the same time, Eugene was already in his bed. Closing his eyes, his only thought was:

  “I hope she did everything well.”

  With that, the first day was over.

  moonrann!