town, hidden in an abandoned building, the remaining monsters from the mine stirred. Hearing their master's summons, they crawled from their shelter and sprinted toward town as one. Glava could feel the snow crunch beneath their hands and feet. Through their ears, he could hear the startled screams of the townsfolk as they charged into the streets of Leadville.
The nosferatu descended the stairs and exited through the Pioneer's front door. Behind him, he could hear surprised shouts from the saloon. The cries spread through the traffic on the street as the naked prostitute emerged to her master, snarling like a rabid dog. Women screamed and men hollered, their voices creating a cacophony of fear in the cold night air. Despite his fury, Glava allowed himself a small smile. Though he preferred to work in secret, the chorus of terror from these mortals was not without merit. It was but the prelude to the symphony he would conduct in this small town. Let all who beheld him tremble and cower, for he was Fodor Glava, a god of blood and death made flesh.
Up the street, Mart Duggan and a frightened Mexican deputy stood outside the marshal's station, preparing to investigate the commotion. When the marshal saw Glava approach, he cursed and raised his crucifix. Glava stopped a safe distance from the symbol and smiled, his golden eyes flashing in the night.
"You seem alarmed, marshal," Glava said.
Duggan kept the crucifix held aloft. Annabelle growled in reply, and the marshal's eyes darted toward her with a hint of fear. "This ain't nothing in this town. Why, compared to a full-blown miners' riot, the two of you ain't nothing but donkey piss."
Behind the marshal, Deputy Sanchez cried out as half a dozen vampires came loping up the street from the opposite direction, driving a herd of terrified townsfolk before them. He raised the small golden crucifix he kept around his neck, an "Our Father" in Spanish tumbling out of his mouth. The vrykolakas stopped up a few yards short of him, pacing and snarling like a pack of wolves. Inhuman fangs glistened in their almost-human faces.
"You are outnumbered and outmatched, marshal," Glava continued, his voice calm. "Look around you. None of the people you have risked your life to protect are willing to return the favor."
Duggan glaced to either side, and his heart sank. Sure enough, the townsfolk had all but disappeared from the streets. Frightened faces peered out of the windows lining the road, watching the terrifying scene unfold. Behind him, he could hear the frantic prayers of his deputy, but it was just the two of them against an army of creatures he'd only heard about in children's stories. Duggan whispered a prayer himself as he stared into the vampire's golden eyes. He always knew that being marshal in such a rowdy town might well be his death, but he never imagined it playing out like this.
"I've spent four years protecting the people of this town," he said aloud, drawing his big Colt. "I ain't about to stand down now. I don't care if you're some fairy-tale monster with the strength of a thousand men. I don't see nothing but a swell-headed son of a bitch just like any other I've whipped, and you ain't getting me without a fight."
Glava clapped his hands together. "Such an indomitable spirit. I have a mind to make you my new apprentice and tie that addle-witted Washington Jones to a rock for the noonday sun." As he spoke, the vampires in front of Sanchez spread out, forming a large semi-circle around the desperate lawmen. The deputy's prayers grew louder as he tried to keep his crucifix pointed at all of the snarling faces at once. They began closing in on him, their fangs gnashing together in anticipation. At the same time, Annabelle Rose began circling to Duggan's left, her eyes fixed on his crucifix. The marshal began alternating the crucifix between her and her master, panic swelling in his chest.
He was going to die.
Duggan watched the naked woman continue to circle him, knuckles crunching in the snow. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the golden-eyed man make a move. He spun toward him, cross held high. The nosferatu simply gazed back at him.
Behind him, the woman let out a howl and charged. He brought the holy symbol back around, but it was too late. She was already in the air, hands outstretched, flying toward him with murder in her eyes.