Jack eyed Crispley with an exhale, flexing his fingers to relieve the twisting in his gut. “Oi, oi, don’t you think you’re a bit lame for a last boss?”

Cocking an eyebrow, Crispley stopped in his tracks, his mouth ajar. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah,” he said, counting on his fingers, “for starters, that line at the end of last chapter was absolute balls. Then, there’s the fact that all you’ve done is be vaguely evil, and your character is about as developed as a plankton’s self-awareness. Also, you get your goons to do everything, but they can’t do anything!” Channeling his inner Lydia, he turned up his nose. “As expected of a comedy villain, everything you do is half-baked.”

Crispley gnashed his teeth, the white of his scars stark against his reddening face. “Half-baked?”

“Excuse me, strange man.” Jess’ voice was wavering behind him. “But are you trying to get us all killed?”

Placing her hand on her sister’s shoulder, Lydia sighed. “He does this.”

Nodding, Hannah patted the other shoulder, trying to smile. “Just trust the process.”

Jack leaned his head back, casting an eye over the three women, their muscles taut. Lydia was standing in front of Jess, and all of Hannah’s effort was focused on staying standing.

Turning back to Crispley, he said, “you guys go ahead. I’ll take care of this.”

“Are you sure?” said Hannah, her tone anxious.

He nodded, biting his lip. “I’ll be fine.” He knew it was a lie, and he knew it was a bad one; he just didn’t know what else to say.

“Like hell you’ll be fine.” Lydia growled. “That’s a full-blown vampire you’re facing; all the ones we’ve fought so far have been nothing but babies, and you must know that. That bastard’s the real deal.”

Smirking, he took a shuddery breath that sounded more like a gasp. “Lydia. We might have come here with a common goal, but it was for different reasons. You came to save your sister.” He gestured back at them. “And you’re still not finished.” Holding his sheathed sword in front of him, he turned himself sideways towards Crispley. “I came to defeat him.”

Crispley chuckled. “Are you perhaps missing the fact that I am standing between you and the exit?”

“No,” said Jack, running forwards. “All I’m missing right now is a White Dwarf re-run on Dave!” He swung down in an arc, a firm hand grabbing the sheath before it could impact Crispley’s head. “Go, now!”

Crispley picked him up by the weapon, using it as a lever to dangle his legs, and threw him into the wall. Groaning, he impacted with enough force that his spine screamed.

The other three were only a few feet from him, sliding along the floor as they tried to stop. Crispley reached out for Jess.

Snarling, Lydia raised a hand, readying her magic.

“Like I’d let you!” Jack rapped Crispley’s knees, taking him from his feet as he climbed to his own. He looked at the others. “Go!”

They did as he told, and he followed them for a few steps, taking his stance in the middle of the narrow hallway. “And Hannah!” he shouted, without turning round. “Even if it doesn’t seem worth it, even if nothing means a damn thing, just live in a way you’ll have no regrets. That way, meaningless or not, you can still walk out with your head held high!”

He didn’t need an answer. All he needed was for them to escape.

Hissing, Crispley clambered to his feet. “Didn’t I hear you say you’d defeat me? Why haven’t you drawn your sword, then?”

He held it before his face, in both hands. “My master gave me one rule: never draw your sword until you’re prepared to kill.”

Crispley sneered. “You came here without the resolve to kill your enemy?”

He blinked. When he opened his eyes again, Crispley was in front of him, launching a ferocious backhand that rattled his skull. Grunting, he flew into the wall, plaster and dust cascading into his hair.

Falling to seated, Jack coughed. He could taste blood. The exertion blurred his vision, and his ribs felt like they’d been through a meat grinder.

Every breath was agony.

“Pathetic.” Crispley stood over him, his hands bunched. “After all that talk, this is all you’re capable of?”

Clenching his aching jaw, Jack roared, sliding up the wall and to his feet. Each inch buckled his ribs, and his knees trembled. He smiled, crimson dripping from his teeth. “I guess you could call me soft, or naive, or whatever. But ever since the moment I lost everything, I’ve found it hard to take anything from anyone. Whatever the reason.”

His gaze drilled into Crispley’s own, and the vampire’s expression faltered. “I’m giving you one last chance: back down.”

Crispley started, his expression turning strange before he started cackling, eyes wide and mouth twisted. “Back down? You expect me to back down? Have you any idea of the things I’ve had to go through, all at the hands of you bloody humans? You’re not the only one who’s lost something!”

He lashed out, but Jack was expecting it; he slid to the side as soon as Crispley’s shoulder twitched, pulling his sword from its scabbard, which he threw to the side. Flicking his wrist as he dodged, he scored a thin red line across Crispley’s cheek.

Shaking his head, Jack said, “it doesn’t have to be like this.”

“Yes,” said Crispley, the scratch on his face disappearing, “it does.”

***

They ran.

Pelting around the corners, back the way they had come, Jack’s parting words still echoed in Hannah’s head. She didn’t quite understand yet, but she could think about it later.

The stomping of their feet and their heavy breaths were the only noise as they hurtled through the corridors, Lydia in front of her and Jess, incinerating the odd vampire unlucky enough to run into them.

Glancing aside, she licked her lips, a pit forming in her stomach as something insatiable ran through her.

Jess Blackwell was beautiful.

Willowy, with a long neck, flowing red hair, and soft features, she held an ethereal quality that spoke to her soul. If not for the eyes, Hannah might have thought her a vampire. Or the smell, for that matter: bittersweet and coppery, drifting from every inch of her skin.

She almost purred. One little sip couldn’t hurt, could it?

Stumbling, she tore her eyes from the girl’s neck, trying to right her feet as they approached the final corner.

She could hear her own heartbeat, each nerve frayed all the way to her brain. Her balance returned. Alongside her, Jess had reached out a hand and grabbed hers without even looking, all her focus on the path ahead.

There was a whimper.

Hannah halted, letting go of Jess’ hand and causing her to turn back, her eyebrows knit in confusion. Staring at the middle door, she felt her thirst back away. She tried the handle; it was locked. At the end of the corridor, Lydia growled, stalking back over.

“What do you think you’re doing, girl? We don’t have time for this!”

No regrets. “There’s somebody in there, I heard them.”

“Hmph,” said Lydia, turning away. “They’re not important.”

Curling her lip, Hannah drove her shoulder into the door. “Who gets to decide that?” She bounced off, growling as she fell to a knee. “Just because it’s not important to you, doesn’t mean it isn’t to somebody else!” She rose, leaping, and once again bouncing off. “There’s nothing important about me, and yet I was saved, so why does it matter if they’re important or not?

“People are people, for crying out loud!”

Bouncing off the door again, she felt moisture in her eyes, threatening to spill over. She was useless.

Feeling a hand on her shoulder, she looked up to see Jess glaring at her sister. “I could hear them, you know. The screams every time someone took a drink. Are you saying we should just leave them, when we have a chance to save them?”

Giving her a soft gaze, Lydia said, “you come first, Jess. How can we even know what she heard was real?”

Jess turned around, kicking at the door with all her strength. She started coughing. “We can at least check! Maybe… ack… maybe you’re not as brilliant as I thought you were.”

Hannah looked up at her with wonder. Her mother had always taught her not to fear names, or positions, or wealth, just the disposition of a person. Lydia’s was something like dropping a kilo of cocaine into a shark tank. Yet Jess wouldn’t back down. It was mesmerising.

Sighing, a quiver in her lip, Lydia flicked a hand, and the door blew off its hinges.

There were maybe a dozen people lying on the carpet, moaning and groaning and coughing, obscured by shadows. It smelled of stale sweat and filth.

The only light in the room came from the red shining out of each face on the floor.

***

High school had changed Lawrence Crispley’s life forever. In his fourth year, as a fresh-faced vampire, he had shared his biology class with the newest student.

Her name had been Ella Goose, and he had fallen in love with her instantly. Sitting next to her, he had been drawn in by her eyes: dark and mysterious, like her tresses of hair and in contrast to her pale skin. Ruby lips had accentuated the colour.

“Hi,” she had said, sitting next to him with an awkward wave.

“Fuck off,” he had replied, blood rushing to his face and another region. It had taken all of his self-control to resist the thirst, the driving thought that he needed to suck her dry.

After the class, he had driven all the way to the top of Scotland, and taken a dip in the North Sea to bring back his senses.

The following Monday, he went back to school, and acted normal. As he entered the front gate, avoiding the obnoxious crowds, he spotted Ella standing by the doors.

“Um, hi,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

With a lopsided smile, he said, “hi. I’m sorry about last week, I had this horrible ulcer and I was a bit out of sorts, but I’m fine now.”

She giggled. “It’s okay. What’s your name?”

“Lawrence.”

As though guided by some unseen force, her hand reached out to touch his cheek. He leaned forward.

She took a step, her foot landing on a banana peel, and slipped, reaching out a hand and catching herself on his shoulders.

Except that one hand flailed, and poked him in the eye.

With a lot of grunting and swearing, he waved it away, laughing at the unfortunate incident and pulling his hand down from his face. He hoped he hadn’t lost a contact.

Ella had faltered, stammering as she backed away. “Your eye… what happened to it?”

He had blamed it on genetics, and she had believed him. They interacted a few times after that, and it was generally pleasant. He always left with his heart sprinting.

Then, one day in the car park, tragedy had almost struck.

***

“That’s just f*cking Tw*light!” Slashing down at Crispley, Jack bared his teeth, his blood surging. “Why are you having such a stupid flashback here? Apologise to the readers!”

Crispley slithered to the side with a huff. “There’s no way you can defeat me if this story gets axed, after all.”

Staring at him with frantic eyes, Jack made a noise between a groan and a growl. “It’s the climax of the arc, stupid, it’s supposed to be getting serious!”

“Well then,” said Crispley, flexing his fists. “Allow me to show you what that looks like.”