IV

With his cape stretched thin, like the membrane of bats’ wings, James fell. The ground rushed towards him. His arms strained, wind filling the cape’s special PET fabric. The maneuver stabled him, but didn’t slow him enough. He tilted his body, causing him to spiral and with a few turns, James lost enough speed to touch down safely. He slid through several rows of corn and created a long, deep gash through tilled soil.

James laughed as he brushed dirt off his midriff. “Still have it in me.”

He looked skywards. Unlike London, the Cotswolds was free of light pollution, and a vibrant night sky hung overhead. James watched one by one as the hunter-bitch and the two paratroopers, Everett and Collins, came through the clouds, opened their parachutes, and drifted towards the Earth.

He had a minute before the slowpokes landed. Far from him, at the end of the field stood a modest farmhouse and rickety barn. Drops of dew covered the tall stalks of corn, and moisture stuck to James' long, trusty cape, making his prized garb heavier, as he trudged through the field.

Closer to the buildings, the mouthwatering scent of blood filled the cold air. Soon, James found the source, what could have been mistaken as a scarecrow: a man's naked, eviscerated corpse. A stocky, bearded fellow was impaled from his anus through to his mouth with a long, pointed, wooden stake streaked red with blood. In addition, someone or something had sliced his abdomen open and spilled his intestines into a messy pile on the ground.

Wincing, James removed a glove and inserted his index finger into the man's wound. “Apologies, my good man.”

He gave the blood a taste test, finding nothing fishy. The man had no drugs or poisons in his bloodstream. He was an A-positive and perhaps a bit too fond of drinking. Judging from the lack of bite marks on the body, it likely wasn’t a vampire’s doing. James went cold. Droolers...

The rest of the team landed safely near the farmhouse. He had to warn them of the impending danger. Scanning the ground, he found a sizable stone. He dropped his cape and placed the stone on top to keep it from blowing away. The middle of a corn field wasn’t the best place to stash expensive military apparel, but it would have to suffice. James sprinted in his comrades' direction and prayed a drooler wouldn't get to them before he did.

V

Sleeping Dragon thanked the gods as her bottom touched earth. Cold sweat trickled down her cheeks. Her dark brown bangs, normally sleek and straight, stuck messily to her forehead.

The two paratroopers landed nearby, amongst the corn stalks. Though they appeared little more than bumbling simpletons, her parachute had deployed without a hitch. She guessed she owed them one. The men took off their jump gear and assembled their weapons. Silently, she observed and mimicked their process and was able to free herself from the hefty pack and cumbersome straps.

Seeing both her katana and kodachi still locked in their scabbards, Sleeping Dragon breathed a heavy sigh. She would need her steel for the mission, and finding replacements in English cow country would have proven very difficult.

The troopers signaled “OK”, and she responded in kind. She imagined the question on their minds was the same as the one on hers,

‘So, what has become of our precious, bloodsucking leader?’

She made her way over to her two, new, favourite paratroopers feeling a passing twinge of guilt that she had forgotten their names. But they were only temporary allies. Disposable, if things got bitey.

A lanky, redheaded girl in a blue and bloodsoaked red dress near the farmhouse sobbed in the fetal position.

One of the paratroopers placed his hand on her shoulder, and spoke in a gentle voice. "Are you hurt? Can I see? Everything will be fine. Just fine. We won't let any harm come to you."

The redheaded girl didn't respond, and continued wailing.

“Did a bad man do this to you? You don’t happen to know where he went?”

He got nothing from her except more tears.

Unintelligible screams came from the corn field. Sir James, alive and unharmed, bounded towards them. He was nimble for an old fellow, but slow for a vampire.

Bowling over corn stalks left and right, he waved his arms, yelling, "Get away from her! Get away from her!"

The bloody farmgirl snapped out of her unresponsive state and stood. Sleeping Dragon didn’t notice any wounds. That meant it was someone else’s blood on her dress. The girl’s eyes rolled into the back of her head and she drooled copiously, her tongue hanging out. The girl's sobs turned into maniacal laughter.

Kuso, she was one of those freaks. It was the Kyoto job all over again.

The kindly paratrooper stumbled back. "The hell?"

Like a feral beast, the crazed girl pounced on the trooper and bit him in the neck. He shrieked, grabbed her hair, and tried to wrestle her off. Against a well-built soldier, the skinny girl seemed to be giving him one hell of a fight. He spun around and bucked like an angry bronco.

The other paratrooper crouched into a firing stance, but hesitated to pull the trigger. "On the ground, now!"

As if that would work. The girl was a quasi-vampire oni.

Sleeping Dragon called these freaks ‘oni’ because of their voice. They tended to sound high-pitched and raspy, just like the oni demons in the play of Momotaro she and her sister, Keiko, watched as a child; back when she simply went by ‘Rin’ instead of her hunter moniker.

Whether he was reluctant to shoot a female, or worried about hitting his buddy, Sleeping Dragon knew she couldn’t rely on the paratrooper to kill her. She’d have to stop the oni herself. She drew her katana. Like her father taught her, she held it next to her right breast, tight with both hands, tip aimed skyward. Cutting both the injured trooper and the girl down was one option, but Sir James wouldn’t let her hear the end of it. She waited for her chance.

The drooling girl released her teeth. Copious blood gushed from the paratrooper’s neck wound.

"Devil..." he wheezed, gargling his own blood before collapsing in a pile.

"My...heroes!" the girl cackled, and ran towards the crouched soldier.

The unhurt paratrooper opened fire. His aim was shaky, but he managed to hit the oni girl once in the thigh. She jerked back from the impact, but stayed on her feet and moaned, sounding more aroused than agonized.

The oni girl snatched his rifle away and tossed it behind her like a used toothpick. It soared through the air far further than any normal girl, or fully-grown man for that matter, could throw it. She reared back and aimed her teeth at the soldier, who frantically clawed at his pistol holster.

Sleeping Dragon rushed in and swung diagonally at the she-beast. The girl had amazing reflexes, jumping like a wild monkey to avoid the attack. The edge of Sleeping Dragon’s blade tasted nothing but corn stalks.

The oni tweaked her nipples through her dress. "Wanna play?"

Sleeping Dragon drew her kodachi in her off hand and held both swords out to the side. Her forearm strained with the weight of the katana. “I'm not here to play, little oni.”

Sleeping Dragon lunged forward, anticipating her opponent's next move. The she-beast stopped playing with herself and went on all fours, ready to pounce.

"No! Disengage!" Sir James yelled, now almost upon them.

The redhead leaped into the air and swiped at Sleeping Dragon's face. Sharp nails came centimetres from gouging out the huntress’ eyes. Accounting for her opponent’s paranormal agility, Sleeping Dragon timed a quick counter. From below, she held her swords parallel to each other and swung upwards, this time hitting flesh. The katana and kodachi carved through the bony girl at the torso as easily as if she was made of bamboo stalks. The attack left the oni in three pieces. Her mutilated body parts laid on a bed of picked corn tassels. They soaked up the torrent of saliva still pouring from the slain girl's mouth.

Sir James panted with exhaustion. "No! What have you done?"

Sleeping Dragon cleaned the oni girl's blood from her blades using a handkerchief she hid in the sleeve of her gi. "I eliminated a threat to our mission."

He knelt in the dirt and cradled the girl's head in his arms. "No, you murdered an innocent, young woman! Against my orders as well.”

Not only was the old man crazy, but he was a poor commander. She knew from the briefing that he was a bleeding heart, but didn't expect him to go soft during a mission.

The uninjured paratrooper turned to Sir James while putting pressure on his friend’s wound. "You didn't see her, sir! She was a monster!"

Badly maimed, but still alive, the bitten paratrooper nodded in agreement. With every breath, he coughed up blood. Sleeping Dragon hoped he wasn’t infected with whatever the girl carried. The Brits expected casualties, but a heap of bodies would certainly hurt her reputation, and more importantly, her bonus.

James spat. "I saw perfectly well. She was a drooler.” He turned to glare at Sleeping Dragon with vitriol. “I thought you were a professional vampire hunter. Don't tell me you haven't seen them before."

“I have seen them, and I know how dangerous they can be.”

“You’re the dangerous one...chopping people up, not obeying her commanding officer. You do know it’s a temporary state?”

Blood drained from Sleeping Dragon’s already pale face. A temporary state? Was that true? She’d never left one alive long enough to find out.