NIGHTWORLD

03: The Source

Rural Hungary, 1995

“Now, kneel down," Sandor instructed, breath misting before his muzzle. Jaro obeyed, pressing the rifle's stock to his shoulder. His father pointed through a narrow slip of withered branches. “Look there, remain still." Jaro did his best to ignore the cold in his knee, the snow slowly soaking into his pants. The more he focused on it, however, the more the chill burned.

Bloody hell, freezing my ass off. He wondered if teenagers in the city had to put up with this sort of thing.

“S'cold," he mumbled, rolling his shoulders. 

As usual, Sandor ignored his complaints. “Picture a deer, grazing, no idea of your presence. It is like us; hungry, struggling to find good food in the harsh winter. Maybe it's a mother, certainly it has one. Probably eager to get back to the herd." 

Jaro sighed, lowering the gun to eye his father. “Should I… really be thinking about that?" 

Sandor rested back on his haunches, considering. Jaro's father always took his time answering, as if something as simple as 'would you like a cup of tea' could somehow contain important information that should be heavily weighed. Eventually, he cleared his throat. 

“And why would you not?" 

Jaro shrugged. “I mean… Piroska says not to think like that. That there's a difference between them and us, and we shouldn't remind ourselves of it." 

“Piroska…" Sandor shook his head. “You spend too much time at her home, too much time with that boy… what's his name?" 

Jaro blushed, looking away as his cheeks burned. “You mean Gedeon. He's… he's okay, I guess." Only yesterday, Jaro had seen his friend quickly dressing before they went out. That brief glimpse of Gedeon's bulge in his undies was burned into his head, refusing to leave, constantly tugging at his sheath. He felt as if his father could tell, as if he somehow knew Jaro had tried to get that 'accidental' look on purpose. 

But how could he know that? He couldn't. 

“Yes, trouble, as I say." Sandor sniffed, readjusting himself in the snow. Jaro groaned inwardly, sensing the lecture like an upcoming storm. “Everything has a mother, Jaroslav. We should not ignore something simply because it makes us unhappy. We take their lives, so our own may continue. It isn't right or wrong. It is the way God made this world, and it's the least we can do to show these creatures some respect for their lives before they end."

“I suppose," Jaro replied. It made sense, but he still felt the guilt weighing on his chest like a stone. 

“Now," Sandor said, pointing through the icy copse. “Rack the slide as if it was loaded. Take your aim… and picture the deer." 

Jaro did as he was asked, trying to imagine a delicate doe standing in the clear. His mind's eye showed light brown fur, small snowflakes drifting past her ears, twitching, almost as if she could sense what was coming.

“Aim near the chest, by the shoulder. Our bullet should go clean through the lungs and heart, and end her life quickly." 

There wasn't even a real deer there, and yet Jaro felt queasy. 

“And then, you pull the trigger." 

Northern Romania, 2003

“You sure he knows how to use this?" Kadir asked, as they followed the supply truck deeper into the woods near the campsite. In one gloved paw, he waved a handgun out grip-first, though his fingers remained tight on it. 

“Kadir…" Kristian groaned.

“I know how to use it," Jaro snapped, reaching past and snatching the gun, slipping it into the holster at his waist. 

Kadir shrugged, whiskers twitching. “I only make sure." He elbowed Kristian. “Make sure to get it off him if he starts licking his lips, no?" Before either could reply, the caracal took off forward, jogging past the truck and barking out more orders. 

“Such an asshole," Jaro muttered. 

“Ignore him," Kristian cautioned. “Focus on the objectives. When passing through The Source, you'll be briefly entering a higher dimensional plane. It's traumatic, to the body and mind, so it's advisable to remain as calm as possible during passage." 

“See what I can do…" Jaro sighed, looking around. “And everyone else? How big's our team?" 

Around them, nearly two dozen different soldier-types hustled and moved. The forest seemed overrun with cabling and truck tracks, the ground chewed up by the many installations, the whole area blinded by the massively powerful lights Isla had strung up. Everyone was dressed similarly; grey and black camo-print fatigues, composed of loose cargo pants and a jacket – though no two outfits were similar enough to be fully called a uniform. Scattered throughout Jaro saw scarves, berets, balaclavas, and baseball caps. Some of the soldiers wore ordinary jeans and work boots with the uniform top, while others had flannel shirts tugged over their fatigues. 

Everyone was armed to the teeth. Rifles, shotguns, handguns, knives. There were belts of grenades, and Jaro had seen a flamethrower or two being carted around. He supposed better safe than sorry, being this close to The Source. 

“It's a team of seven. Miss Koch wanted us to prioritise agility," Kristian explained, as the muddy trail began to angle down, feeding into a constricted gullet in the earth. The side of the valley was lined with razor-sharp rocks, a huge cave at the end gaping at them like the mouth of a great slumbering dragon. “But the support required for such an operation is substantial, as evidenced. And, while it typically remains somewhat localised, The Source moves its exact location, so there's no telling where it might open next, nor for how long it will remain. There is simply… so much we don't understand."

“Instils a lot of confidence," Jaro replied. 

“Indeed. We must assume it moves location on their side as well, and so we can't know how many of them might come through. Hence the guns." 

“And have any?" Jaro eyed the gun placements braced along the rock walls, sandbags propping them up, red-eyed and weary soldiers nestled behind the triggers. 

“Not yet," Kristian replied.

A deep uneasiness rippled through his gut as they entered the large cave, the floor uneven and slippery beneath them. The air was chillier down below, dryer too, the stench of oil and sweat permeating each breath. Clearly it had been expanded using explosives, extra room blown out of the earth to fit in all the people and machinery the program required.

“TEAM TWO!" Kadir bellowed, his harsh Turkish accent echoing out the mouth of the cavern. “BRACE UP BEHIND THE TRUCK, WE CROSS IN SEVEN MINUTES!"

Jaro sniffed. “And if The Source closes while we're crossed over?"

A new, broad voice squeezed into the conversation there, a large frame sidling up to Jaro's left. “That's what those babies are fer!" Jaro looked up to see a tall, wide otter in a flannel shirt suddenly alongside him, his voice thick with an English accent. A shotgun was slung over his back, dwarfed by an enormous backpack of supplies. The otter grinned, pointing to where a huge square chunk of rock had been carved out of the wall. Six thick cylindrical pylons lined the wall, a nest of tangled cables overflowing at the base like spaghetti. They crackled and groaned through use, mechanical outer plates whirring as they spun blurring speeds. They reminded Jaro of tesla coils, only without the sparks of electricity.

“Reality pliers," the British otter explained. “I didn't design 'em, but I oversaw the installation, if that counts. Supposing, they generate an electromagnetic field on the same frequency as The Source. God willing they'll keep the bitch pried apart long enough for us to get in and out safely." 

Jaro sucked in a breath of the stale, dry air. Panic threatened to claw up his throat and he swallowed it back down, stretching his fingers in their gloves. The more he learned of this operation the more he realised how little he knew. Had they kept him asleep so long on purpose? Was there some uncomfortable secret he wasn't supposed to know until it was too late?

“Father Noah Aberson, pleasure" the otter offered, sticking his paw into Jaro's face. Jaro accepted it, shaking firmly. “You must be Jaroslav, the Hungarian, right? Our little late replacement, hope I pronounced your name correctly." 

“That's me… I'm sorry, are you… a priest?" Jaro asked, glancing between Noah and Kristian. “Seems a bit cute, right? I figured the crucifix thing was a myth."

The otter laughed, his belly shaking. “I was a priest, in a former life. But, that's not something you just leave behind when Isla Koch asks you to become the program's chief sapper, innit? I might have left the church, but it didn't quite leave me." 

“Well, pleasure to meet you." 

“TEAM TWO, BRACE NOW!" Kadir roared, his voice painfully loud in the echoic cave. “WE CROSS IN TWO MINUTES!" 

“Try to hold onto your lunch, eh?" Noah said, gently nudging Jaro. 

He nodded back, leaning out to peer past the large cargo truck. Further down the cave the tunnel tightened, the passage ringed by a series of flickering lights. At the very end, angled deeper still, was The Source. 

“There it is," Kristian whispered, following Jaro's gaze. “A true crossing point between branes. One world, two levels to it. Impossible to imagine, really. Our reality, and theirs." 

“Nightworld," Jaro added, nodding. 

The Source looked like an optical illusion. Jaro wasn't sure what he'd expected, exactly, maybe a large glowing gateway like a science fiction show. Instead what he got was more like nature's M.C. Escher. Impossible, non-Euclidean geometry, solid rock appearing to melt infinitely on itself, twisting and undulating like an ouroboros. It went in every direction in one place, and seemed to cause a deep ache in Jaro's eyes the longer he stared at it. 

Finally he blinked, turning away. 

“Has that effect, don't it?" Noah asked, nodding solemnly and stroking the grey fur on his chin. “Unnatural." 

“Is their world the same as ours? As in, the same landscapes? Is there a vampire Hungary?" Jaro asked Kristian, who only shrugged. 

“I think not, were I to guess," the marten said. “Maybe there are some similarities, but Nightworld has a completely different history to us, different laws of nature even. The vampires are supernatural. They seem to live forever. It defies our logic. Perhaps Nightworld is more akin to a dark reflection of our own, but I'd guess not. If things lined up perfectly, the branes would have no reason to overlap." He shook his head, taking place behind the large supply truck. “But I don't know. That's the thing about this program, Jaro, we're all going in completely blind. Like trying to land on the moon without knowing if it's really there." 

“Have a little faith," Noah added. 

“How can you, in the face of this?" Jaro mumbled. 

Kadir continued yelling as more lights flashed. Isla joined them at the rear, dressed in her own utilitarian camouflage gear. For some reason Jaro hadn't expected her to join the expedition. Kadir took his place next, and they were joined by the final member – a slender snow leopard, her head tucked beneath a tight scarf, a long marksman rifle strapped to her back. 

“Isn't the team a little small?" Jaro asked, suddenly feeling the nerves creep up again as the truck began to slowly inch towards that twisting matrix down the tunnel. “We're going to a world of these things, right? Shouldn't we have more firepower?" 

Kadir sniffed. “Suddenly a strategist now, are we?" He shared a look with Isla before continuing. “Team One was two dozen strong, obviously it didn't help them much. We need to be light on our feet."

“We go in quiet, we come out alive," the snow leopard added, her English unusually angular. 

Jaro eyed the truck they all shuffled behind. Was that their idea of quiet?

“There's nothing proving Team One doesn't have survivors," said Isla, somewhat forcefully. “Our first goal is to uncover their status, recover who we can. Then we establish a foothold and gather more intel. The Source has been kept open now longer than ever before, with no signs of destabilisation – a forward operating base isn't beyond the realm of achievement." 

“Unless we're beset upon by an army of rabid demons the moment we step through, that is," Noah chuffed, stuffing his paws in his pockets. 

Isla ignored him, looking to each of the specialists surrounding her. “Listen up! You each have your own reasons for being here. Remember them as we cross through." 

A rousing speech for sure. Jaro nodded, falling back behind the truck as they continued forward. The soldiers at the side watched the group pass with grim faces, their odds on Team Two's success more than apparent.

A deafening crackle pierced the air as the truck touched The Source, the sound of fizzling embers filling the space. Metal groaned, and Jaro peaked ahead; instantly regretting it. The truck had unfurled like a flower against the wall, splitting apart in all kinds of unusual directions, looping impossibly back on itself. He could see the engine components, each one of them slotting together neatly but somehow separated, the insides of every small latch and valve clear – despite nothing leaking or exploding as it went. 

A paw seized his shoulder, sharply pulling him back into line. “Don't look," Kristian hissed in his ear. “The bulk is a four dimensional space. It doesn't make sense for us to visualise, you'll only hurt yourself."

Jaro nodded, closing his eyes as the rear of the truck continued to be swallowed up by the Source. 

Every instinct in his body told him to turn and flee. His hackles shook on his neck, his tail remained fiercely tucked. His mouth was dry and he couldn't stop flexing his paws. 

Vampires. He was crossing realities into a vampire world. It felt like something from a story, and for a brief moment he was glad Isla had kept him asleep so long. If he'd been given a chance to think this over properly, there was no way he would have agreed. 

He thought of his father, hanging on for dear life in a sterile hospital bed at some blacksite owned by Isla's program. He imagined the neurotoxin coursing through his father's body, poisoning his blood and rotting him out.  

Looking down, Jaro found his paw was crossed over his heart. An infected heart, wrapped up in a vampire parasite, slowly trying to turn them to their cause. Turn him into a monster. 

“Are you ready?" Kadir asked, his voice unusually gentle. Jaro looked up, and realised he was face-to-face with The Source. The truck was gone. Isla was gone, and so were the others. He and Kadir were all that remained. 

“I…" It seemed massive this close up. Like it stretched on forever, the strange rock motions sickening. It was solid, but moving, impossible to find the start or end to any one piece. Each part was something else entirely, and wherever his eyes weren't looking Jaro saw twisted things. Screaming faces, fleshless spines and rib cages, jaws full of gleaming teeth. As soon as he looked though, they vanished into the rock. 

“You must step through now," Kadir whispered. 

“I can't," Jaro stammered. His body was locked into place. There was no way of knowing. The other side could be death. What if the reason Team Two never came back was that they died on entry? What if the Source poured out into some vampire slaughterhouse?

“If you don't, you will die," Kadir said calmly. It wasn't a threat, more an observation. A statement of fact. “The vrykolakas parasite will squeeze the compassion from your soul, and turn you into something wholly unrecognisable. A monstrous beast, consumed only with a thirst for blood and suffering." 

“I'm sorry, I don't think I can…" 

He felt Kadir smile. “You can." 

Make the choice that scares you. That's what Boz would've said. Nothing scared Jaro more than this. In fact he felt he'd been terrified of it his entire life, but only now did he know what it was. 

“Go on," Kadir said. 

Jaro did. 

When Jaro's vision returned he was on all fours, paws buried in the mud, the taste of bile stinging on his tongue. His ears were ringing, and it took a few seconds for them to fully decipher the noises Kristian kept making. 

“Jaro? Are you alright? Can you hear me?" The marten asked, kneeling by his side. 

“Is he dead?" Kadir asked, striding past and making for the rear of the truck.

“If you recall, he was in a coma less than fifteen hours ago," the marten snapped. “It wouldn't kill you to have some empathy, Kadir." 

“Oh, it just might," the caracal responded, laughing wryly. 

“I'm fine, I'm fine," Jaro spat, climbing to his feet. He eyed the cave around them, ears still ringing. “Do we know where we are, exactly?"

“Looks like a cave to me," Noah chimed.

“Welcome to Nightworld," Isla said, her face grim. 

The Source laid to their back, a few metres deeper into the tunnel. The truck was ahead, but the driver had killed the engine. All around them the cave formed a large bowl of slate grey rock, no true exits in sight. Stone and dirt filled the passage ahead, and the only source of light was Kadir's torch, and the dim glow of near-dawn emanating from a tight crack in the ceiling. 

“It's a dead end?" Jaro asked. “Did we not know this?" 

“She stops here," called a chirpy Australian voice, as the front door to the truck banged open. A muscle-bound dingo dropped from the seat, dressed in a tight combat vest pulled over a sleeveless shirt, several knives hanging off one belt. A grin stretched across her orange-furred face from ear-to-ear. “Unless any of yous know howta drive through solid rock," she added, peering up at the crack above them. “I'd say we're climbin' out."

“Jaro, this is Francesca Mallow," Isla explained. “Our driver."

The dingo winked. “Just Frankie's more'n fine mate, cheers." She stepped past, tapping the snow leopard's shoulder. “How you tracking, Devna?"

“I have the same information as you, Frankie," Devna replied dryly, staring up. Her voice was soft, and though he couldn't pin it to a specific country, Asian-accented. “We climb." 

“The truck stays, we can circle back for supplies if we need," Kadir said. “For now, we do as the scouts say; climb out and determine position." He reached into the back of the truck, pulling free a small pelican-case. Popping the lid, he began passing out gleaming silver stakes, needle-sharp with grooved grips. 

“Are you for real?" Jaro asked, accepting his and hefting it. “Is this actually silver?" 

“Absolutely," Frankie chimed. “Easiest way to take one of those bastards down – pump 'em fulla lead and drive this through the cheap knock off they call a heart."

“I told you this," Kadir added, his gaze seizing Jaro's fiercely. He raised his own stake. “The vrykolakas is weak to specific metals. This goes through the ribs. Kill that worm, and the body is just a corpse." 

Jaro rubbed at his own chest, feeling the bile rise in his throat again. “Yeah, no need to remind me." 

“If you asked 'em, they'd have you thinking they're indestructible," Frankie explained. “But far from it. Sunlight, decapitation, fire. Enough grit, they go down like anything else." 

Jaro thought of the one he'd faced down in his father's shed, the way it had shrugged off a point-blank hit from his shotgun. “If you say so." 

“There is enough grip to get up!" The snow leopard, Devna, cried from above as she hoisted herself free. 

Following her lead, Jaro climbed up the front of the truck, gingerly balancing on the unsteady roof. A small jump and he was just able to hook his fingers over the jagged edges of the rock, lifting himself. 

Devna gripped him by the forearm as he went, helping him up and steadying him once they reached solid ground. She saw his expression fall and smirked, nudging him with her boot. 

“Not what you expected, medic?" 

“Um, not quite…" 

The land here carried an oppressive air, the foggy gloom of dawn doing little to lift its spirits. Dead leaves crunched underfoot, a forest of dead trees stretching out in seemingly every direction. Crows cried in the distance, thunder grumbling in the blackened clouds of the sky. Nightworld was appropriate. Jaro could feel the shadow of the vampire, weighing on his back. 

“They get sunlight here too, right?" He asked, turning back. “Without that we're dead…" He trailed off as he saw what perched behind them, his heart sinking. “Oh no." 

Several hundred metres to their rear stood a great, snarling castle. It was grim, built into the side of the cliff-face, gothic buttresses propping up a twisting and unnatural core. Long stained-glass windows the colour of blood stretched down either side, each rimmed with iron spikes and skeletal imagery. Suspended bridges connected the many cores, spread across the cliff-face like vines up a wall. It was massive, easily one of the largest and most intricate structures Jaro had ever seen. 

Castle wasn't the right word to describe it; the structure dwarfed even the word. This was a citadel, a necropolis built as the seat of evil.

“What the fuck?" Frankie whispered, eyes widening as she saw the castle. 

“I think we know why Team One didn't come back," Noah said. 

“We walked out right on their doorstep," Jaro hissed. He seized Kadir's arm, at the same time slinging his rifle down from one shoulder. “Kadir, we need to go. We need to go now." 

In the distance, something howled, the harrowing wail echoing through the trees. 

“Agreed," Kadir said, putting his back to the fortress. “Team, move, opposite direction to… that." 

“No, not further in!" Jaro cried, pointing at the hole they'd climbed through. “Back through The Source, we have to regroup. That cave was blocked on purpose; they were ready for us, this is a death trap." 

Isla shoved in, teeth bared. “No. Retreat isn't an option, the sun will come up soon – we just need a defensible position. We will not go back."

Jaor baulked. “Isla–" 

A second howl joined the first, then a third. It was a metallic kind of noise, grating and painful to the ears, a screeching choir of hate and malice.

“There's a lot of them," Devna called. They could see figures now, hunched and distorted, rising from the dead branches and leaves like corpses from the grave, long ears twitching as snouted faces snapped towards the group. 

“Move, move!" Kadir cried, shoving Jaro forward. 

The group obeyed, following a naturally worn path through the brambles underfoot. 

“They're tracking us," Frankie said, hefting a handgun in one paw and a stake in the other. 

“Stick together," Devna added, her marksman rifle up. “Don't let the pack separate us." 

Jaro shivered at the thought of more of those things, of facing more than one at a time. 

They circled like sharks, drawing closer and closer, picking up speed and matching the pace of the group. Ahead, Jaro spied what looked like an old barn, aged and ragged, but solid. He pushed on, panting hard, fear rising in his gullet. Around them the creatures began to snap and hiss, howling and crying out as they closed the net. 

The barn was getting closer now. 

Just a little further, just… 

One of the creatures leapt before them, putting itself in the path between the group and possible shelter. Mostly furless, like the one in Hungary, but somehow… more undead. Its eyes were a milky white, patches of flesh rotting and hanging off its bones. The teeth were all long and yellowed, saliva dribbling from the corners of its muzzle. It was vaguely wolf-like in shape, though exactly what breed it had been before Jaro couldn't have said. 

All he knew was it made him feel sick to look at. 

“What the fuck is that?" 

“Whatever it is, it dies," Kadir said, stepping forward and raising his gun.

He fired in short, controlled bursts, slugs throwing the creature back and shredding its skin like paper. 

The gunshot was like a dropping a flag, and the pack circling the group dove in as one. They poured from the trees like rats, gnashing their teeth, massive claws splayed on the ends of elongated arms. Gunfire erupted as the team began firing back, scattering as the creatures shoved between them. 

Jaro spun, trying to get his bearings when something slammed into the side of him, sending him tumbling off the path and through an old fallen tree trunk, bark and maggots spraying over him. He landed on his back, the creature scrambling to get on top of him, his paws raised high to try and push back the snapping jaw, spittle spraying out onto his face and clothing, the creature's flesh stretching haggardly over its bones. 

He'd lost his gun in the fall, and now his free paw was fumbling in the dead underbrush, trying to find the grip of his gun. The thing seemed to sense that and threw its weight onto him, roaring in his face with breath that smelled of death.

“Fuck, f-fuck!" He cried, scrambling for his belt, seizing the pocket where he stashed the stake Kadir had given him. His paw closed around it and he yanked it up, ramming the sharp end into the base of the creature's jaw. Black ichor sprayed forth, drenching his arm and chest as the thing's body began to seize and spasm. 

Jaro pushed it off him, climbing to his feet just as two more rushed him, razor-sharp claws shredding the ground as they ran. He dove for his rifle, crashing into the mud and rolling, firing into the lead wretch and seeing it collapse. He raised the barrel to get the second but it battered it aside, howling wickedly. It flicked out one claw, nails like razor blades in the gloomy light. 

Jaro screamed, and a shot ran out, black ichor blowing out the side of its head as the thing fell dead. 

Jaro let out a breath as Kadir ran over, dragging the corpse off him and helping him up. Over the caracal's shoulder Jaro saw more of the monsters swarming forth, ripping through every crack and crevice they could.

“Shit– move!" Kadir grunted, pointing deeper into the wood. “Go!" Jaro didn't need to be asked again. He turned and began to sprint, scaling a log, already hearing the gnashing teeth of those creatures pounding the ground in pursuit. Kadir cursed them, squeezing shots off from his pistol as they ran, shoving Jaro this way and that, directing him through the maze of dead wood. 

They ran hard, lungs burning from the icy air, boots slipping in the muck beneath their feet. Those things were all around them, leaping from branch to branch, circling where they could. On the left, the right, behind. Nothing was safe. Jaro had no clue what had happened to the others, all he knew of was the shouting and gunfire he heard echoing in the distance. 

“Kadir," Jaro cried, the caracal still busy shoving him on, firing out wildly behind them. “KADIR, CLIFF!"

It raced towards them, a dead drop off the side. The creatures behind them nipped and gathered, closing the gap more with every stride. Jaro could practically feel the hot breath on his neck. 

“Go, GO!" 

“There's a fucking cliff!" 

Jaro tried to stop, but the caracal crashed into him. “SO JUMP!" 

Time seemed to slow as the two went flying over the edge, limbs flailing as they soared across the thirty-foot drop. A second later the river came screaming towards them, the white froth like the maw of a drowning thresher. 

Jaro screamed as they hit the surface, shattering into the depths, water punching into his mouth and nose and squeezing the breath from his lungs. He scrambled, desperately trying to get a grip, kicking at Kadir as he struggled to make up from down. 

Muted booms sounded as several of the monsters hit the water after them, seizing and howling in the rushing current. Jaro ignored it, scrambling to grab hold of the caracal, who was drifting listlessly, blood pouring from a wound in his head. The wolf kicked himself towards the surface, trying to get to air, blood misting around them in the freezing water. Instinctually he cried out, and more water forced itself in, acrid and foul, his body starting to panic as it fought for air that wouldn't come. 

Tugging Kadir by his collar, Jaro clawed at the river surface, his arm shooting out and searching for purchase, a rock, a loose branch, anything. Again and again he came down on nothing, the icy churn quickly sapping his body of energy as the current pulled them along, the weight of his own equipment – plus Kadir's barely-moving body – dragging him deeper and making it seemingly impossible to get out. 

Finally his paw came down on something real; a huge chunk of solid wood; a fallen tree trunk. Lungs on fire, Jaro heaved, tugging them both forward and bursting through the surface. He sucked down air, hyperventilating as he hefted Kadir up, pulling him onto the fallen log. 

“Wh… huh? I…" The caracal mumbled, through a heavy bout of water-logged coughing. “What? Jaro?" 

“We're alive…" Jaro gasped, his throat aching. “C'mon, get to shore." 

He helped Kadir up, and the two warily made their way across the fallen tree. 

Soaking wet and dripping mud and water, the two men stumbled from the river confused and shivering, but mostly unhurt. 

“What happened to those things behind us?" Jaro asked, sliding his pistol from its holster and racking the slide, trying to shake any loose water out. In all the chaos, his rifle had gotten lost somewhere. He scanned the shoreline, but nothing climbed free after them.

“I don't know," Kadir grunted, pressing a paw into the bloodied gash above his eye. He blinked repeatedly, and Jaro saw his pupils struggling to focus. 

“You could have killed us. That's a big fucking drop," he snapped. 

“Well," Kadir replied, slowly looking at the cliff face. Now that the screaming had stopped, Jaro could hear the echo of gunshots firing in the distance. “It'd kill us to stay. You're welcome, by the way. Saving you is what separated me." 

“How do we get back to them?" Jaro asked, unease growing as reality began to settle in. “No way we're climbing back up that." 

A new voice interrupted them; “Come now, surely thee has no call for such haste." 

The two froze, turning from the river to see a man approaching, his gait leisurely and calm. It seemed he'd come from the woods at his back, and yet he seemed to grow more present the further in he drew, as if his frame were bleeding from the shadows themselves. He was taller than them both, and dressed in a long, flowing leather coat. His face was cloaked in darkness beneath a hood, but through the pitch Jaro saw the gleam of fangs, and the tight red eyes staring them down. The stranger whistled at them idly, a perverse nursery cry that sent a ricochet of fear down Jaro's spine.

“Your foreign clothing has piqued my interest," the stranger said, eyeing them up as he came closer still. His face held the shape of a wolf, black fur like shimmering oil. Jaro felt himself drawn forwards, as if the stranger's weight had tipped the ground in his favour. 

“The sun…" Kadir hissed, glancing at the clouds; a thick veil smothering the light.

“Not quite," the stranger grinned. 

“He's one of them…" Jaro whispered, remembering the hungry look of the creature from his father's barn. 

“Let me assure thee, I am most certainly not one of them." The figure spoke a strange tongue, his words a hatchet-mix of English, Slavic, and French. His voice was deeply baritone, and almost playfully singsong, speaking with the confidence of someone that never felt fear.

This thing is very old, Jaro thought, feeling his body wanting to freeze up. He forced his toes to curl, tensing his muscles. 

“Thralls… are little more than rabid dogs," the stranger said. Each word cut through the air like a knife, the syllables dripping with venom. “Do I look like a dog to thee, Tamasi?" 

“Vampire," Kadir hissed. He stepped forward, raising his pistol with both paws and squeezing the trigger. 

The stranger held up a long claw, the bullets shredding bloodlessly through his palm, to no reaction from the vampire. “Please Kadir, don't embarrass yourself. We both know you've failed enough." 

The caracal emptied his clip, dropping the gun and pulling his rifle round from his back. The vampire moved suddenly, flashing in an instant through the air. He tore the gun from Kadir's grip like it was nothing, seizing the caracal by the neck and hurling him into a nearby tree. The tree shuddered with a deafening crack and Kadir fell limp, slumping at the base. 

“KADIR!" Jaro cried, drawing the stake from his pocket. 

“Please," the vampire said, lips curling up. He took a step forward, and Jaro felt that presence once again settle on his mind. A heavy weight, crushing him into the ground. “You're just meat… born to suffer." 

“N… n-no…" Jaro grunted. The Prey Dynamic. He couldn't be helpless. He couldn't be fed on by one of these things again. “Don't." 

“Pity. I hoped for better." Jaro's mind reeled, like a file being examined. “I prayed to receive their best. And thou is nothing more than a perverted misstep. We'll see what the court has to say about you, but…" The vampire paused, a smile like death flashing on his muzzle. “Our Lord is not one so easily impressed."

Jaro couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. His vision was twisting, folding in at the edges.

“Stop fighting, Jaroslav," the vampire said, his deep voice rippling through every nerve in Jaro's body. “Stop fighting me. Drop those toys." 

Jaro's traitorous fingers obeyed, his pistol and stake clattering to the pebbles on the shore. 

“P-please…" He whispered, hating how cowardly and helpless he felt. “Just let us go." 

“Oh, stop," the vampire said, leaning in. “I think you know better than that."