Bring Me The Head Of The Vampiress

By Monica Muniz

A bookish preacher has been having problems with his college-aged daughter. Heather has fallen in with the wrong crowd and returns home...as a vampire....Needing help, the preacher has a doctor in his congregation that specializes in the occult on the side. He needs the fangs of the vampire who turned Heather in order to perform a ritual to turn her back to normal....Not having the wherewithal to face a vampire alone, the preacher puts up a bounty for every slayer in town to find his daughter's bloodsucker...but one of Heather's friends knows there's more to the story than everyone else realizes...and she sets out to collect the bounty herself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trellis Publishing
• Release date: Jul 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201192396

Book preview

BRING ME THE HEAD OF THE VAMPIRESS

MONICA MUNIZ

table of contents

BRING ME THE HEAD OF THE VAMPIRESS

BLOODSUCKERS

THE DEER WOMAN

I,VAMPIRE

VAMPIREVILLE

AMY’S LAST WORDS

Alfred stood at the door, smiling as the churchgoers filed passed him. The beam was forced but the line was thinning indicating that he did not have much longer to fake it.

Wonderful sermon, Pastor, Mrs. Tuttle said, nodding approvingly as she paused to shake his hand heartily.  As always.

It was a show that he endured after every service, the shaking of hands and accepting of platitudes. He wondered if the others ever got as sick of it as he did.

Thank you, Alfred murmured. Even after all the years he had spent as minister, he still was not used to the compliments following his services. If Alfred had his way, he would have much rather ducked into the rectory following Sunday’s morning service and hidden out but he knew that wasn’t an option.

Have a good day, Reverend, Mrs. Tuttle went on as she moved away, leaving him to exhale in relief. But Alfred’s glee was short-lived.

Yeah, Reverend, a snarly, sarcastic voice conceded from over his shoulder. Great work. You’re a real prize.

Alfred turned, his neck stiffening slightly as he caught sight of his only daughter lounging against the pillar outside the church. His faux smile faded entirely as he took her in. Heather snapped her gum at him, the outline of her eyeteeth showing over her sneering lips. The mere sight of her worried Alfred. She was clearly not herself and hadn’t been in a long while. The problem was, he didn’t understand what it was that had changed about her.

Before leaving for school in Savanah, Heather had been a good girl, obedient and church-going, the apple of her father’s eye. Now, she was a beast dressed in black, covered in dark eye makeup and filled with loathing he did not begin to comprehend. At first, Alfred had told himself that this was her way of rebelling or coming of age but as the weeks slipped by, he was starting to see that he had a much bigger problem than he initially thought.

Heather, he breathed, shaking his head. I didn’t realize you had come home from school.

Heather snorted and pushed her lithe body off the stucco, her eyes blazing in a way Alfred had never noticed before. It seemed to him that every time he saw her, she changed more and more.

She has green eyes, not blue, he thought, dread overwhelming him. Alfred had been a pastor long enough to know when he was in the presence of evil and his daughter was emanating it with so much intensity, he was forced to take a step back.

No, he thought in denial. Not my precious little Heather.

What the matter, Daddy? Heather purred, ambling toward him. Don’t you like it when I surprise you?

I-I’m always happy to see you, Heather, he mumbled, unsure of what else to say. He was a man of God, after all and lying was beneath him but the truth was, he was somewhat afraid of his only child.

Really? she laughed, closing the distance between us. You don’t look all that thrilled. Don’t you want to give me a hug?

Without allowing him to respond, Heather threw her arms around her father. Alfred’s breath caught in his throat and he tried to pull back from the unexpected embrace but Heather’s grip around him tightened. She was freakishly strong and the hold was disconcerting.

Don’t fight it, Reverend, she rasped and Alfred could feel her breath against his neck. This is what’s best for all of us.

Through his peripheral vision, Alfred saw the glint of a fang as Heather attempted to plunge her teeth into the flesh of his throat and a terrifying understanding overcame him.

You’re consumed with darkness! he choked, trying with futility to escape. You must pray!

That’s a matter of perspective, I suppose, she tittered, her words trailing over the skin of his neck.

Young lady!

The sound of a stern voice seemed to surprise Heather and she let go of her her father as she turned to look.

This is a church! Mrs. Tuttle went on, giving Heather a reproving look as her eyes trailed up and down Heather’s all-black outfit. The woman’s eyes lingered on the torn fishnet stockings with contempt and Alfred took the opportunity to break free, putting several feet between himself and Heather as she scowled darkly at Mrs. Tuttle. His heart was racing with so much intensity, he thought he was going to pass out.

And? Heather growled, her blood-red lips parted as she leaned toward the older woman. Alfred felt a jab of fear for his parishioner but whatever fear that encompassed him did not touch Mrs. Tuttle apparently.

You should dress appropriately, Mrs. Tuttle said flatly. I know that your father raised you better than that!

Heather glowered and moved closer but suddenly, her crystalline eyes went wide and she froze. Alfred followed her gaze and saw that her eyes had fallen on the crucifix that hung over Mrs. Tuttle’s neck. A strange noise emanated from Heather’s lips. Instantly, her body morphed into a bat and the girl was gone before Alfred could register what had happened.  

The pastor gaped at the spot where Heather had been standing, two seconds earlier and struggled to find words but his parishioner was the one who spoke first.

Well, Mrs. Tuttle sighed, sounding depressed. We lost another one to the dark arts, it seems.

Alfred gawped at her nonchalance.

What? he choked. What are you talking about?

Mrs. Tuttle shrugged her shoulders and shook her gray head. She fixed her gaze squarely on Alfred and gave him a reproving look.

I warned you, didn’t I? she scolded him, wagging a finger at him like she was parenting him. I told you that this might happen.

Warned me? he echoed, not understanding any of it. Warned me about what?

The corners of Mrs. Tuttle’s mouth twitched and her limpid eyes narrowed.

That’ll learn you, sending off an impressionable girl like Heather to college in the big city, Reverend. Nothing good ever comes from such things. Isn’t that what I told you already?

Savanah is not the big city, he protested but his words had no effect on Mrs. Tuttle.

If she had stayed here in Mill Creek, she wouldn’t be contaminated, would she?

He had no response, his jaw almost on the pavement. Alfred still could not believe what he was hearing and he entertained the notion that he was dreaming. Mass had let out entirely and he remained alone with Mrs. Tuttle on the front steps of the church, his head spinning. A dream was the only thing that made sense.

That’s all this is, he told himself but before he could get comfortable in that idea, Mrs. Tuttle slapped him across the face with far more force than a seventy-year-old woman should be able to muster. The sting vibrated down his spine.

Wha...? Alfred gasped, his hand touching his face as he stared at her in disbelief. What are you doing?

The surprise outweighed his indignation but Mrs. Tuttle didn’t seem to hear either emotion.

Snap out of it, Alfred, she growled. The faster you come to terms with what’s happening, the better off we’ll all be, especially your misguided daughter—assuming she’s still in there somewhere.

Come to terms with what? Alfred demanded, his head swimming.

In where? What is happening?

Your daughter is a vampire, Pastor and she needs to be stopped. You can’t just stand there while she flies off, trying to turn good, Christian folks.

W-what? Alfred sputtered, wondering if the woman was insane. A vampire?

Yes, Mrs. Tuttle sighed, pulling on his arm.

He pulled out of her grasp and shook his head, dubiously. He had always like Mrs. Tuttle, even if she did tend to be nosy and pushy.

But I never too her to be insane, he thought, staring at her with new eyes.

I’m not going anywhere, he growled, folding his arms over his chest. And I won’t have you running around spreading rumors about Heather. She’s...she’s just having a rough time right now.

Mrs. Tuttle shook her head in disbelief.

They aren’t rumors. I was standing right beside you when she turned into a bat. Are you purposely being dense?

She stared at him and Alfred fumbled to think of a response but nothing immediately sprang to his lips. This was all too much to take in. Mrs. Tuttle seemed to see his chagrin and her face softened.

I can’t help you get your daughter back if you won’t come with me, she told the pastor gently.

Alfred could hear the sincerity in her tone as he bit down on his lower lip.

Something is definitely different about Heather these days but a vampire? Could Mrs. Tuttle be right?

He couldn’t deny the palpable blackness that had overcome him when Heather had held him in her arms.

Come on, Reverend, Mrs. Tuttle sighed. There really isn’t much time.

Alfred stared at her.

Where are we going?

To find someone who can help.

~ ~ ~

Dr. Langdon nodded, a wise, understanding expression in his eyes as he steepled his hands.

Ah yes, he said without any emotion. That’s a common experience. Students get turned at school all the time. It’s why I always encourage children to stay home while attending college. That way, supernatural activity can be properly monitored. That’s what I did with my boys.

Dumbfounded, Alfred sat forward and looked at the country doctor in shock. He had known Stephen Langdon for over thirty years. Never had the preacher expected to hear the physician speak of the otherworld.

W-what are you talking about? Was all Alfred could manage but Mrs. Tuttle waved him silent and put her aging elbows on the desk.

What will we do about Heather? the woman demanded. Or is she too far gone?

That’s hard to say, Dr. Langdon replied slowly, pushing his swivel chair back and turning toward a glass credenza at his back. He pulled open the doors and pressed on a shelf. Instantly, the curio-style display gave way to a secret compartment which made Alfred’s jaw drop almost to the floor.

I haven’t seen Heather, the doctor went on. But let’s assume for the moment that she is beyond saving.

What!? No! Alfred cried, also jumping to his feet. As he did, his eyes widened. In the cupboard was a deep, dark pocket which hid several symbols. Alfred gasped and fell back, his eyes resting on an inverted pentagram.

Oh relax, Al, Dr. Langdon chortled, removing a chalice. It’s all perfectly harmless.

Alfred opened his mouth to counter Stephan’s words but thought better of it when the physician continued.

If you want to save Heather, you’ll have do exactly what I tell you.

The more time Alfred spent listening to Mrs. Tuttle and Dr. Langdon, the more surreal it all felt. He was quickly learning that it was easier to simply nod.

You’ll need to find the vampire who turned Heather, Stephan went on. And bring me her fangs.

I...what? Alfred sputtered.

Oh dear, Mrs. Tuttle sighed. That sounds difficult.

If you can’t do that, Alfred, I’m afraid that I have no choice but to put a stake through Heather’s heart the next time I see her.

Alfred’s eyes almost popped out of his head.

"H-how do you expect me to extract the teeth of someone I don’t know