Paul came back from the kitchen with two fresh cups of tea. Lizzy didn’t deny his hospitality any further (she was still hungry, and the drink would help). They sat down in the living room, and she was right into believing that the antiquities they called sofas were uncomfortable. She tried her best to not show it.

“So… How do you know my dad?” asked Lizzy.

“Marcus and I have been working together for years! It all went back to when he was a young lad, younger than you and asked me to make weapons for him.”

“Wait, so you’re a blacksmith?”

“The blacksmith of Riverbel, lassie! But I guess that we haven’t cross path often, eh? Not a surprise, I moved the smithy to such a remote place long ago.”

She should had figured it out, judging by the leathery apron. But there were more questions to ask. “And why is your home connected to the Dabeltorn mansion?”

“Ah! Your father proposed this place to be our base of operations, it’s some kind of safe house that the first Dabeltorns built just in case. He wasn’t using it, so he just let me live in here. It’s far more spacious than the old smithy back in town, even if it’s less convenient.”

“I see. So all those weapons are…?”

“Made by yours truly!” He got up and took one of the rapiers of the wall. “Every single one of these weapons was made to hunt down those damned blood-suckers. Wanna hold it?”

Lizzy nodded and was given the rapier. It wasn’t a heavy sword to hold. She was considering trying to swing it around but that probably would be dangerous.

As she kept examining the sword, Paul continued. “These were made with silver, it burns those vampires to a crisp!”

Lizzy gave the sword back and it was put on its rightful place. “And you made those guns too?”

“Those? No, not me. I just make the bullets. Silver bullets, in case you ask.”

“That’s very impressive!”

“Well, I am a man of many talents! But I wouldn’t have been able to do anything if it wasn’t for your father, he was the one paying for the silver.”

“That makes sense.” Lizzy sipped the rest of her tea before it went too cold. “So how was it?”

“What?” he said confused.

“Working with dad.”

“Oh, it was great! That young lad was a vampire-killing machine, let me tell you! Have you heard the story of when he first met the vampire lord?”

Lizzy shook her head. “No, I haven’t.” Her dad would never talk about his days as a vampire hunter, probably because it brought back many bad memories, so she was morbidly curious.

“Then let me tell you all about it!”

Paul proceeded to tell the tale of the encounter. By then Marcus had already a couple of years as a hunter under his belt. Every night he would patrol the forest at night in search for vampires or any other monster to kill. Not all nights he was lucky, but every now and then he managed to find a group of bat monsters dragging a poor soul to the vampire’s castle in the middle of the dark forest. It was then when he would keep a low profile to deliver a sneak attack, successfully killing the monsters and saving the day. His popularity as a hunter rose with each life saved, but the people of Riverbel weren’t the only ones to talk about The Hunter.

One day, Marcus was doing his usual patrol when he noticed that the forest was quiet, too quiet. It felt like death. He kept going when he felt a presence nearby. Turning around he met a man wearing elegant clothes fit for a noble and a cape, all black, combining with his black perfectly slicked back hair. He looked like he was ready for a funeral, not to give condolences to the family but as the corpse.

“So, you’re the famous hunter?” he said with venom in his voice. “You don’t look like much.”

Marcus put his guard up. He didn’t need to be told who this man was, he already knew. He tightly held his sword, readying himself for an incoming attack.

The Great Vampire Lord stood still with a perfect posture, and raised an eyebrow, completely unimpressed. “Really? You think you can fight me? You should be begging for mercy right now, Marcus Dabeltorn.”

“How do you know my name?” Marcus said, completely off-guard.

“People have loose mouths, especially with a little encouragement.” His face contorted into an ugly smirk, showcasing those sharp canines of his.

Marcus held his breath, not wanting to show any sign of weakness. Any mistake would mean not only his death, but the death and torture of many others. He couldn’t afford to think about how many lives he failed to save, how many fell prey upon the monster before him when he was not looking.

They reached a standstill, with both of them waiting for the other to make the first move. Attacking first would be an advantage, but done wrong would be fatal. So Marcus waited until he was sure that the vampire wasn’t planning something.

Finally, Marcus decided to lunge forwards to attack, but the vampire dodged effortlessly, using clawed fingers to make a cut on his arm instead. Marcus hissed in pain, but didn’t lose any time and swung the sword again. Once again, his enemy dodged by jumping backwards. He kept trying to slash down the vampire over and over again until the Great Vampire Lord delivered a powerful kick that Marcus tried to block with his sword. He was sent backwards, hitting a tree and dropping his sword.

In an instant, the vampire got to him, grabbing him by the neck and letting him hover in the air. Marcus was barely able to breathe anymore. He tried kicking his attacker but it was useless, he was too strong for that.

The vampire laughed. “How cute, you really thought that a miserable human could defeat me? I must commend you for your tenacity!” He then used his free hand to grab Marcus’ face, examining it, then smiled. “Maybe I should keep you for myself? Thanks to you I am lacking suitable soldiers, after all.”

Before Marcus could lose consciousness he remembered that he had a gun, but he needed to be careful, he only had one bullet. He quickly held the gun in his right hand and pointed directly to the heart, but he was dropped the moment he took the shot. His mark noticed just in time what he was trying to do.

Marcus could breathe again, and was able to see the result of his actions. A couple of meters away from him he found a vampire pressing his hand on a newly made wound on his left shoulder. Blood was oozing underneath the hand and the man was paler than he usually was. He stared at him, stared with a face of pure hatred, and panted. If Marcus knew any better he would say that he was scared.

And then, without any words, he left…

Marcus failed to kill the Great Vampire Lord that night¸ but he did what no one could: survive AND wound him.