The church bells' discordant clanging sent a feeling of dread crawling down Rowena's spine. The stranger’s unconscious form lay frighteningly still, his chest barely rising with each shallow breath. The bells ringing, at least here, meant trouble of the supernatural variety. 

Rowena's eyes darted to her trusted Remington-Lee rifle, its dark-stained stock gleaming dully in the dim light. She strode over to it, taking it into her hands. Her fingers trembled as they closed around the Purifier, her palms slick with cold sweat. The silence between bell tolls stretched, each bout seemingly longer than the last. 

Suddenly, a low, guttural growl interrupted the quiet. Rowena whirled, her heart thundering against her ribs. A pair of crimson eyes gleamed in the darkness. The creature walked into the light, its head tilted. It had the shape of a man, except its skin was gray and its ears ended in points. 

Rowena raised the Purifier, but her finger froze on the trigger. The creature’s face—it was familiar. Recognition hit her like a physical blow as she stared into the twisted features of Father Matthews, the local priest she'd spoken to just days ago.

"No," she whispered, horror clawing at her throat.

The thing wearing Father Matthews' face smiled, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth. "Oh yes, little hunter," it hissed, its voice a horrific blend of the priest's gentle tones and something ancient, more malevolent. "Your God can't save you now."

Without thinking, Rowena squeezed the trigger, the Purifier's arcane burst illuminating the church in stark, terrifying detail. For a split second, she glimpsed other shapes moving in the darkness—too many to count. Her blood ran cold as the realization hit… they were surrounded.

The beam struck the vampire-priest, searing its flesh. But instead of falling, it laughed—a guttural sound that raised the hairs on the back of Rowena's neck. "Is that the best you can do?" It advanced with a speed she had not seen before. 

Rowena backpedaled, her boot snagging on an uneven flagstone. She stumbled, and in that moment of vulnerability, icy fingers closed around her throat. The vampire lifted her effortlessly, its stale breath against her face as it leaned in close.

"I can smell your fear," it whispered, running a razor-sharp nail down her cheek. A thin line of blood welled up, and the creature's nostrils flared. "Exquisite."

With a desperate surge of strength, Rowena drove her knee up, catching the vampire in the abdomen. Its grip loosened just enough for her to wrench free, gasping for air. She scrambled backward, fumbling for anything to use as a weapon.

Her hand closed around a wooden chair leg. She kicked at the chair to break it free, and she swung the leg in a wide swing. The makeshift stake caught the vampire across the face, opening a gash that oozed black ichor. It shrieked, the sound so piercing that Rowena felt like one of her eardrums had burst. 

More shapes detached from the shadows, converging on her position. Rowena's chest heaved in panic. She was a skilled hunter of paranormal entities and rogue mages, but she had not encountered vampires before. 

Gritting her teeth, Rowena forced herself to focus. She'd trained for this, prepared for moments when the odds seemed insurmountable. With an inhale, she reached into her coat, fingers closing around a vial of holy water.

As the first vampire lunged, she hurled the vial. It shattered against its chest, the blessed liquid hissing and steaming as it ate into undead flesh. The creature howled, clawing at its own skin as it stumbled back.

Rowena didn't waste the opening. She drove forward, the stake plunging deep into the vampire's heart. For a moment, their eyes locked—an expression of surprise on the creature’s face. Then, with a sound like crumbling stone, the vampire collapsed into dust.

One down. But how many more to go?

She whirled, picking her rifle off the floor, raising it once more. Another vampire, this one wearing the tattered remains of a miner's uniform, charged at her. Rowena squeezed the trigger, the arcane burst catching it full in the face. The creature's head snapped back, its skin blackening and peeling away. It crumpled mid-stride, joining its comrade in ashen oblivion.

For a second, hope surged in Rowena's chest. 

Then, the air filled with furious hisses and snarls. More vampires than she could count came at her from their hiding spots. They poured from every corner of the church, climbing over pews and dropping from the rafters.

Rowena's finger tightened on the Purifier's trigger, but nothing happened. The arcana reservoir was empty. With growing dread, she realized she'd used the last of its charge on that final shot.

"No, no, no," she muttered, frantically working the action. But it was futile. The weapon that had been her lifeline was now nothing more than dead weight.

She cast it aside, gripping the stake with both hands. If she was going down, she'd make sure to take as many of these monsters with her as possible.

As the wave of grasping limbs surrounded her vision, Rowena lashed out with the stake, feeling it connect again and again with her opponents. But for every vampire she wounded, two more took its place.

A hand seized her wrist, wrenching the stake from her grip. Another latched onto her ankle, sharp nails digging into her skin. Rowena screamed, more in fury than fear, as she was dragged to the ground.

She fought with every ounce of strength she possessed, landing blows that would have felled a normal opponent but seemed to barely faze these monstrosities. Her elbow connected with a jaw, shattering teeth. Her heel drove into a creature’s stomach, forcing out a whoosh of cold air. But it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

Long-dead bodies pressed in around her, a writhing mass of pale limbs and hungry mouths. The stench of decay filled her nostrils as they closed in. Rowena thrashed wildly, but her movements became more restricted with each passing second.

Hands pinned her arms to the unforgiving stone floor. Others gripped her legs, spreading them painfully wide. Still more pressed down on her torso, an immovable weight that made each breath a struggle.

Rowena's heart pounded so hard she thought it might burst from her chest. This couldn't be happening. Not like this. Not after everything she'd survived.

A face loomed above her—Father Matthews, or the thing that had once been him. Its lips peeled back in a mockery of a smile, revealing deadly fangs once more.

"Now, my dear," it said, running a sharp nail across her throat in anticipation. "Let's see if you taste as delicious as you smell."

Rowena tried to turn her head away, but iron-strong fingers gripped her chin, forcing her to look into those hellish red eyes. She could see her own terrified reflection in their depths, a tiny figure surrounded by countless monsters.

"Please," she whispered, hating the quaver in her voice. "Don't do this."

The vampire-priest's laugh was like nails on a chalkboard. "Oh, but we must. You see, we're so very hungry. And you... you're going to feed us all."

With that, it lowered its head to her throat. Rowena tensed, waiting for the sharp pain of fangs.

Instead, she felt something warm—its tongue, lapping at her skin. Tasting her. Savoring the moment.

A sob caught in Rowena's throat. She'd always known her work was dangerous, that each hunt could be her last. But she'd never imagined it ending like this—helpless, pinned down, about to be drained dry by the very monsters she'd sworn to destroy.

"Get on with it," she spat, summoning the last of her defiance. "If you're going to kill me, then kill me."

The vampire-priest raised its head, meeting her gaze once more. Its eyes glittered with cruel amusement. "Oh no, my dear. We're not going to kill you. We're going to turn you. You'll be one of us, hunting those you once called friends. Won't that be delightful?"

Before Rowena could process the horror of those words, fangs sank into the side of her neck. The pain was immediate and intense, like twin daggers of ice plunging into her flesh. She screamed, her eyes going wide in fright.

But that was only the beginning. All around her, other vampires followed suit. Fangs pierced her wrists, her thighs, her stomach. Each new bite sent fresh waves of agony coursing through her body.

Rowena's vision began to blur, dark spots dancing at the edges. She could feel her life draining away, replaced by an icy coldness that spread from each puncture wound.

"No," she mumbled, her tongue feeling thick and unresponsive. "I won't... I can't..."

But her protests grew weaker with each passing second. The world began to fade, sounds becoming muffled and distant. Even the pain began to recede, a numbing emptiness taking its place.

As consciousness slipped away, Rowena's last thought was of the man she had tried to save. She'd failed him. Failed herself. Failed everyone.

Then, darkness.

Rowena bolted upright, a scream dying in her throat. Her heart raced, and cold sweat plastered her clothes to her skin. She blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of her surroundings. Without realizing, she had fallen asleep in her chair, next to the stranger she had spent so much time trying to help. 

She brought a hand up to her chest, letting out a soft breath. Still alive. Still here. At least for now. And that was good enough for her.