To Kill a Vampire

Count Estaban Von Kruger slept soundly, it was a deep sleep, it was a contented sleep. He lay slumbering in his lavish oak coffin trimmed with the finest crimson velvet, secure in his baroque chambers, located in his own personal castle. Set in the side of a towering cliff face, it was a structure that dated back to a time before even Estaban existed. Its high towers and gabled spires provided a commanding view of the surrounding countryside. Its thick, ancient walls and buttress's provided ample and fitting protection to a being of his status. Guarded by a small elite army of well paid soldiers in his thrall it was nigh on impregnable, and therefore he had nothing to fear while he slumbered. He had ruled his domain for centuries, and would continue to do so for many more.

Estaban was old even for a vampire, he was tall and lean. Age had done nothing to erode his considerable physique and handsome looks. Thick black hair steaked with silver adorned his head. His skin and soft although cold and pale in hue. His peircing blue eyes hidden behind closed lids as he slumbered in his coffin.


Relaxing. he let his mind wander. It had been a good night! He along with his brood had preyed on the nearby village of Ravensky that very evening. It was a small town near the border of his domain, near identical to the many other small farming communities and hamlets that dotted his land. The brood hunted several times a week for both sustenance and sport, it was their land and their right! Estaban had given clear orders that no village was to be attacked more than once in a month. It would make no sense to deplete their food supply through wanton carelessness.


The night had been clear and the moon full, a perfect night for the hunt! Attacking swiftly, leaping through the shadows cast by the moonlit buildings, the clan had feasted on many of its terrified inhabitants. Sensing danger, some had tried to flee! A wintery smile spread across the face of the sleeping vampire as he remembered their screams and the panic on their pitiful faces, how they'd scrambled away from him, climbing over obstacles, farm machinery and each other in a bid to outrun the approaching danger. Dismembered and exsanguinated bodies of those who were too slow or stupid to realise what was happening littered the village streets as far as the Vampire Lord could see. Screams and the occasional gunshot echoed into the night sky. Few had offered any meaningful resistance save for a local priest.


Brave and foolish, he had stood at the gabled entrance of his ramshackle church. He wore the black attire of a Catholic father. He was uttering stuttered prayers and blessings nervously, Estaban could hear his rapid heartbeats, and his panic'd face was beaded with sweat. The priest was scared! In one trembling hand was a silver crucifix, in the other he nervously fingered a set of rosary beads. As they approached he outstretched his arms towards them. The glowing icons flashed in the moonlight keeping the baying brood at bay, such proximity to holy icons burning those foolish enough to get to close.


Estaban's children parted like the tide as Estaban had strolled through the baying, screeching mob. He paused just beyond the reach of the accursed symbols of the false religion. The priest had stood firm in the face of Estaban, fleeing villagers surged past him and through the doors of the church, men and women. Their faces wracked with sheer terror, seeking refuge and sanctuary in the holy place, some clutching screaming children or what few belongings they could carry. They filled the hall, praying to the blank faced statue of the Holy Mother for deliverance.


How the Vampire Lord had laughed, what did this feeble geriatric human think he was doing? He was not some newly turned fledgling!  Wary of the crucifix in the priest's trembling hand, he kept his distance and out of range of its aura. Then almost dismissively, he had picked up a steam tractor parked nearby and thrown it at the church. Caught in its path, the spinning vehicle had smashed the old man to the ground, bounced off the flagstones and careened into the the walls of the church; demolishing the building. Now with nothing to protect them, there sanctuary crumbling around them, the villagers were at the mercy of Estaban and his children.


Estaban shifted in his sleep with a grunt. He remembered picking his way through the wreckage of the shattered church as his brood circled and devoured the fleeing survivors. With the protection the church had offered destroyed, the brood had descended upon the defenceless villagers.

Although he had given orders for some to be kept alive, to be brought back to the castle to provide them with sport later. He had found the old man dying, body shattered and broken under a splintered door. Even as he lay there dying he had try to pull himself away from the Vampire Lord as he towered over him.


"Father," Estaban had said with a grin, his voice sounding like cracking ice, "Any last words?"


The Priest had looked at him with fear and defiance in equal measure. He tried to form words from his broken jaw.


"Y..Y..You won't g..get away with..t..t..this you monster, r..r..rrighteous vengeance will c..c..ome!" he had spluttered, coughing up blood and staining the dog collar around his neck with a deep crimson.


"How cliché!" Estaban had said with a cold smile. "Who will administer this vengeance? You? Ha! You are at deaths door you pitiful weakling. These are my lands, there is no god to protect you here Father, in this life or the next."


With that Estaban picked up the broken man with one arm, bringing the shrieking figure up to his mouth and tore his throat out with his fangs. How sweet his blood had tasted, even now he could remember the tang as the warm liquid poured down his throat and snaked down his chin. Who did the priest think he was to threaten a being such a him? Such petty sentiments, a pitiful gesture, so like the weakness of humans! He laughed in his sleep, long and loud.


Estban and his children had fed well and returned to the castle contented and laden with spoils.


Life, or un-life to be precise was good, Estaban reflected. He had many villages in his land, all ripe for the picking. Protected in his castle by his army of soldiers he had little to fear from roving bands of righteous peasants and their primitive firearms and steam powered machinery.  This was his land, nothing was going to change this! A being of such supernatural power had nothing to fear from the church or men of science.  This was the age of the Vampires, and nothing would change that.


As he rested a feeling of disquiet dispelled his reverie, something wasn't right. He lay in his coffin closed his eyes and tried to relax. Deep at the back of his mind something kept nagging him, something he couldn't put his finger on. It almost felt like his senses were trying to tell him something. He grunted irritably, this would not do.


With a sigh he lay back and cast his mind out from his resting place, through the sides of his coffin, out of his chambers, throughout the luxuriously carpeted portrait lined corridors, up the ornate gabled stairways and out onto the towering buttresses of his mighty castle. Where were his guards? Estaban could not sense their presence nearby. This was unusual, he had left strict orders to his men that the security of the caskets of himself and the brood should be of the utmost importance. Where were the sentries outside his chamber door? The guards by the castle gates?


He could sense the warmth of the prisoners in the dungeons, their nervous hearts beating faster than drums. He could taste the sweat of his servants and serfs as they toiled in the kitchens and stoked the weapon forges of his castle. He could even sense the cattle in the fields that surrounded his isolated home.


Wearily he roused himself and pushed open the ornate lid of his coffin. He sat up and gazed around his chambers. Isolated, located in the highest tower in his castle, the windowless room was lit dimly by a ring of electric lanterns, set on elaborate brass mounts. The room was octagonal in design. His attuned vision easily picked out the crimson drapes that adorned each of the seven walls around him and the dark oak doors set into the eighth. On these silken drapes were inlaid tapestries depicting acts of sensuous excess and carnal desire that would make lesser men cry. The room was sparsely decorated, save for his coffin mounted on a stone dais in the middle of the octagonal chamber the room was devoid of furniture. He preferred it that way. A cluttered room leads to a cluttered mind and he would not have that!


"Guards?" Estaban called out.


He was aware of movement outside his door. His attuned hearing could hear footsteps, albeit very faint.


"What is the meaning of this? My orders were very clear, a permanent watch is to be kept on the entrance to my chambers. I demand an explanation or I shall have your heads!"


Slowly the solid oak door to his chamber swung open, there standing in the doorway was a figure. Leaning forward the Count looked closer and saw it to be his Master-At-Arms. He stood in the doorway eyes wide and silent, polished rifle in his hands as if at attention.


"Sergeant Constanza what is going on? Where are all my men?"


The soldier said nothing, in the entrance of the dimly lit chamber he stood there perfectly still and unresponsive to the Counts questions.


"I demand an explanation or your employment and life are forfeit you imbecile!" Estaban growled angrily. "How dare you leave me unguarded, what do you think I'm paying you for?"


The Master-at-Arms in the doorway remained unresponsive, eyes staring straight ahead, as if not having heard a word.


Estaban growled angrily and threw off the shroud that covered his seated form. A muffled groan escaped from the Sergeant's lips causing the Count to pause and regard the man warily. The soldier in the doorway let go of his rifle and it clattered to the floor, he swayed for a second before toppling forward onto his face, a knife embedded in his back, the hilt forming a stylized crucifix.


"Wh...?" The Vampire Lord started to say, but as he did so his eyes were drawn from the prone form of his dead bodyguard to a second figure now revealed  standing in the doorway. Though the room and the outside corridor were dimly lit he could make out the new figure standing before him. He was a young man dressed in the attire of the Catholic order. Except he was like no priest he had seen before. This figure wore a steel gorget on his neck and gauntlets on his hands and wrists. The steel glinting in the dim light. On his feet were a pair of heavy black leather boots. Around his waist could be seen several more daggers similar to the one now embedded in his Master-At-Arms. Around his torso the intruder wore black webbing festooned with items Estaben even with his centuries of existence was unfamiliar with.


He did however recognise a firearm in the intruders hand, a large pistol with a box shaped magazine and around his shoulders on a black strap hung some sort of weapon.


Behind the silent black clad figure through the doorway the bodies of several of the Counts soldiers could be seen, blood spattered their uniforms and heraldry giving some clue as to how they met their end.

The intruders face was expressionless, however behind his eyes burned with a fire that almost made them seem to peirce the darkness, they were firmly locked on the seated vampire.


Estban regarded this strange newcomer, finally he smirked and let out an audible chuckle. Sat in his coffin he clapped slowly and addressed the man standing before him.


"Bravo! There are not many who can catch a Vampire Lord unawares. I must applaud you stranger, it is a rare feat indeed accomplished by very few, but a foolish endevour nonetheless. I assume you have come to kill me? To end my reign of terror? Listen boy, I have lived many centuries and in my time many have tried to end my reign, all have failed. Their bodies were torn asunder by my children and I. their remains fed to my wolves."


The figure in the doorway remained silent and motionless. Estaban could sense the figures steady strong heartbeat. This man is not afraid the Count thought to himself. Surely only a fool would not fear a being of such power?


"Well? What do you have to say for yourself assassin? You have been sent on a fool's errand! Explain yourself!"


The black clad figure slowly raised the pistol in his hand to point at the Count.


Estaban cackled again, it echoed around the tower.


"Surely you know your bullets and puny weapons can do no harm to beings such as me. You should have done some research boy, you were brave but stupid. I shall kill you now all the same," he said with cruel grin. He grabbed the sides of his casket preparing to leap towards the silent figure.


The assassin raised an eyebrow and smiled.


The figure in black pulled the trigger.


There was a loud bang and Estaban shielded his attuned eyes from the flash. The bullet punched a hole through his shoulder burying itself in the soft white porcelain tissue. The Vampire smiled and started to laugh, only for amusement to turn to cries of pain. He looked at his shoulder, faint wisps of smoke were streaming out of the puckered wound near his collar bone. The bullet was burning him, it felt as if he was being lanced with a red hot blade. What trickery was this? With a roar of anger Estaban sprang out of the coffin and onto the domed ceiling of his chambers, grabbing onto a joist for purchase. He pulled out the red hot bullet in his shoulder with taloned fingers. He looked closely at the crumpled piece of metal, it was white hot to the touch and burned his finger tips.


The Count smiled.


"Silver bullets eh? Well played boy but you will need more than that to beat me."


With that Estaban kicked out his legs and with practised finesse somersaulted down into the doorway of his chamber. He landed smartly on his feet to find his would be assassin had vanished. He looked out into the corridor to see any trace of the intruder, but there was nothing. All he could see was the mangled corpses of his bodyguards strewn in all directions, either laying on the blood soaked luxurious carpets and cold grey flagstones, or slumped against the crimson splattered corridor walls.


"Running will not save you boy! I will hunt you like the dog that you are and tear you limb from limb, I will feed your entrails to my wolves!" the Count bellowed.

He craned his head and listened. His enhanced hearing heard the whistling of the approaching dagger before he even saw it, with supernatural skill he deftly dodged the flying blade and it impacted with a dull thud into the door frame next to where his head had been less than a second before. Silver too no doubt, he would have to be careful.


Almost immediately after dodging this threat, his hearing picked up the sound of something skittering along the carpeted floor towards him. He smoothly sidestepped the bouncing object and it rolled past him to a stop. What was this? As the Count bent down to examine this curious device there was a blinding flash and air was suddenly filled with a green tinged fog. Sensing danger with a kick of his powerful legs he leapt upwards, and onto one of the ceiling beams high up in his chambers. The Count sniffed suspiciously. What was this trickery? Poison gas? That was surely suicide for any human to use and vampires were proven to be immune. What is this amateur playing at?


Estaban glanced around the room for his attacker. From his high vantage point Estaban could now see the would-be assassin was crouched behind the dais in the centre of the room upon which sat his coffin.


"Get away from there y..." The Count began before he halted, his throat seizing up.  He couldn't breathe! What techno-sorcery was this? He flicked out his tongue and tasted the tinted atmosphere of his chambers. The air in his lungs burned and Estaban gagged for a second, feeling the gorge rise in the back of his throat. Garlic! It must be some sort of garlic aerosol weapon! What kind of weapons are these? Estaban's head swam, his skin was burning and he felt dizzy. His body fought to defend itself against the noxious substance. He felt his body lurch from the beam he was perched on, his hand shot out to steady himself against an adjacent crossbar. He coughed, then composing himself he shook his head menacingly.


"Nice try whelp, but you forget who you are dealing with. This could have worked against my lesser kin but I am a Vampire Lord, you cannot hope to beat me, you have provided ample sport, and for your troubles I promise you I will enjoy this!"


With a roar Estaban leapt across down from his perch and across the room towards the assassin. Crossing it in the blink of an eye he pounced on his target pinning the thrashing and kicking figure to the floor, baring his fangs he lunged at the neck of his victim, he bit down hard to find in his weakened state he could only blunt his fanged teeth on the polished steel protecting the neck and wrists.


"Very clever, young man," said Estaban, spitting out ivory fragments, finally realising the purpose of the armour, "But it matters not."


The vampire stood up, kicking the legs of the assassin out from underneath him as he tried to rise and put his foot on his chest. The black clad figure squirmed desperately. Estaban pressed down and was satisfied to hear the ribs of his would be killer crack underfoot. The Vampire Lord looked down on the groaning figure dismissively.


"It was fun while it lasted but it ends now!" he said slowly increasing the pressure. The man on the floor let out a cry of pain and grabbed at the unmoving foot of the Count. He could not hope to match the strength of a Vampire and appeared to give up. Instead he started to frantically root around the webbing on his belt.


The Count increased the pressure enjoying the agonised expression on his victims face. The intruder stopped squirming when he seemed to have found what he was looking for.  It was some sort of small box with a switch inlaid into the side.


Using his other leg Estaban stamped on the gauntleted hand containing the box. The man screamed in pain and released his grip on the device. The sound of creaking metal echoed around the chamber as the metal armour protested against the forces inflicted on it.


"What trickery is this human? A child's toy?  No more fancy tricks and weapons, this sport has gone on long enough."


The metal of the assassin's gauntlet started to buckle and Vampire let out a triumphant roar.  The figure on the ground with one last burst of energy thumbed the red button on the small red box and threw it across the room.  It slid and rolled several meters before stopping.  Nothing happened.


"Is that it? Is that really it?" Estaban inquired with a mocking tone. "Your last chance to save yourself and you choose a toy that doesn't even work?"


The Count leaned down to the prone figure, hands grasping out to remove the troublesome armour around the assassins neck when he was distracted by a whirring sound coming from the small box.  As Estaban watched, the box rolled over as if pushed by an unseen hand.  Upon the now upwards edge, a small clang of grating metal could be heard as the surface retracted to reveal something inside, it looked like a bullet.  With a sudden whoosh and a bright red flash the device fired its contents.  It shot upwards causing the Count to hiss in alarm and increase his pressure on the slowly asphyxiating figure beneath his feet.  The whooshing flare wreathed in red fire flew upward,s punching up and out of the ceiling of the counts chambers, a small shaft of sunlight lanced into the dark room and several tiles crashed onto the flagstones.  The Vampire Lord flinched and then composed himself; he was a good several metres from the illuminated area and quite safe.


Turning his back towards the assassin Estaban grinned manically.


"Another one of your devices that has failed, you put too much faith in science boy, the supernatural will always triumph. We end this now."

With a grunt of effort Estaban tore off the gorget of his would be killer,t he crumpled metal plate scraped and scratched as it slid away. The Vampire Lord grinned and bared his fangs.

Outside his castle, through the hole in the ceiling a faint detonation could be heard in the distance.  Ignoring it the Vampire Lord went in for the kill.  As he raised his victims neck to his mouth the air was pierced by a wailing shriek.  Estaban looked up in bemusement.  An explosion had torn out a chunk of wall near the door.  The cold grey stones flew everywhere causing the Count to release the assassin. Sunlight poured in through the hole and through it Estaban could see the outside world, the rolling hills, dense forests and swathes of farmland.  He backed into the part of the room still bathed in darkness, shielding his eyes.  What was going on?  What was doing this?  What devilry was at work?


There was second distant detonation and his gaze was drawn through the hole in his chambers, in the far distance his enhanced vision could see what seemed to be some sort of artillery pieces, except they were mounted on tracks like the farm vehicles that were commonplace in the villages he had preyed on.  He could see the smoke rising from their upturned weapon barrels and chugging boilers.  Hanging on poles on the rear of these vehicles; flapping in the wind was the unmistakable heraldry of the Vatican. How could they be here? There was another shriek rising to a crescendo and another section of wall blew in, the avalanche of granite and rock splintering the Count's coffin and demolishing the dais it was set on. The Vampire Lord shrieked in horror.  More sunlight poured in, more than half the room was bathed in light including the door; he was cut off from escape.  He looked around, the assassin was no longer on the floor, instead he stood upright in the sunlight, the piercing light catching the fire in his eyes and the grin on his face.


"YOU!" Estaban roared, "This is YOUR doing! You planned this all along didn't you?"


A shriek of another incoming shell could be heard and the silent figure nodded courteously to the Count.


Seconds later the shell blew out what was left of the roof of the badly damaged chambers.  The midday sun flooded now into the exposed tower bathing the Count in bright white light.  Estaban screamed as his skin burned, he thrashed and writhed in pain, his vision blurred and he could smell the acrid tang of incinerating flesh. How could this be?  How could he have been tricked like this?  A mere mortal outwitting an un-life king?


The silent assassin walked slowly towards the smoking, screeching figure of Estaban.  He had retrieved his pistol from somewhere and now the Count once again found himself looking down its barrel.  Resigned to his fate Estaban smiled with burning lips and fell to his knees.


"Victory is your's boy, you have vanquished me, but know this. We beings of the night are legion; we have been around since before history can remember. You cannot hope to kill us all, surely such a notion is fallacy? Why, you haven't even told me your name!"


The silent figure spoke aloud, allowing Estaban to hear his voice for the first time.


"My name is Paladin-Father Cain.  Consider this a message to your ikind Count".


The assassin pulled the trigger, the silver bullet punched through Estaban's forehead and he knew no more.  His burning body burst into a cloud of ash and cinders, billowing out of the shattered walls and ceiling of what had once been his chambers.


* * * * * *


Job done, the injured figure of Cain limped out through the gates of his castle and over the drawbridge. Even as the final death throes of the rest of Estaban's brood could be made out through the thick walls, the assassin was passed by the hurrying phalanxes of heavily armoured soldiers clad in dull black armour bearing the insignia of the Holy Father, as they rushed passed towards the castle gates armour plates clanking.

High above, the air reverberated with the sound of engines, Cain shielded his eyes with his hand and looked skyward back towards the imposing bastion he had just left. Several airships hovered above, their humming engines keeping them steady as they disgorged waves of troops via rope onto the towers and buttresses of the castle walls high above. Distant gunfire could be heard and smoke whisped through many of the fortress windows.



Making his way back down the hill towards a column of vehicles he recognised to be Vatican Steam Tanks, he approached the lead vehicle. It was more ornate than the others, and sat in its armoured crew cupola sat the figure of a Cardinal. The purple clad figure was shouting orders to the waiting crews around him. He was also furiously scribbling messages onto parchment which were then passed to a signaller equipped with a large semaphore lantern, every so often the he would relay orders and messages to the the advancing units in the distance co-ordinating the assualt on the smouldering bastion. He caught sight of the limping Father and clapped his hands together eagerly, and signalled two nearby men to aid the injured assassin


"Cain! Praise the Holy Mother you're alive! Our forces secured a perimeter when you entered the castle last night, then when we saw your signal we deployed as planned. I take it the deed is done?"


"Aye, it's done. The Lord is dead! Scattered to the four winds he be." Cain replied.


"Excellent, excellent! His Holiness will be most pleased at your noble endeavours! Our soldiers are purging the castle as we speak. The brood will be expunged from history. The treasures we find deemed untainted will be distributed back to the local villages."


"What about the prisoners?"


"They will be interviewed and examined by our inquisitors; any we deem non-corrupted by the taint of these vampires will be allowed to return home. Those who are or have been found to be in league with these heathen monsters will be cleansed with holy fire, as will this thrice-cursed castle."


The Cardinal gestured past the column of tanks to another airship moored in a nearby field, this one was smaller than those which loomed menacingly over the castle, like its sister vessel proudly bearing the cross of the Vatican order. It was a hive of activity; crew scurried around the outside connecting hoses to the vessels engines from large cylindrical fuel bowers located on the back of a large wagon.


"Take this back to Rome at once, your wounds will be attended to en-route, you will rendevous with Sister Morgan on your way, as you recall she was deployed on another assignment running concurrently with this one. I trust she has completed her mission also. You are to retrieve herself and possibley sensitve cargo as well. Once this is done you must proceed back to the Vatican with all haste, His Holiness has a most urgent mission for you."

"Sister Morgan will have aquitted herself admirably i'm sure. But why such urgency my Father?" Cain enquired, coughing painfully, the pain in his ribs agonsing.

I know you may not be aware of current affairs but it seems there may be developments regarding the Satanic State we call Darmania. You have been personally selected! Go at once".


Supported ably by the two soldiers either side of him Cain made the sign of the cross and limped towards the waiting airship. Once loaded the vessel revved its engines and sunlighting glinting of its spinning propellors soared into the afternoon sky.