Dark Fangs Rising: Luke Irontree & The Last Vampire War, #1

By C. Thomas Lafollette

Luke Irontree fled to Portland to escape vampires…and his memories. He failed.

Born in the first century, Luke has been hunting vampires since the gods made him their immortal weapon. Now he's one man awash in a sea of fangy monsters. When Portland's most vulnerable disappear, he's the only one who even cares.

Things go from bad to FUBAR when he realizes he's number one on the menu. Fortunately, a nosy werewolf and a tough human woman are determined to join forces with the curmudgeonly hunter. While he appreciates the help, he fears he won't be able to keep them alive.

With the gutters running red with the blood of innocents, three against an army of bloodthirsty villains might not be enough. Luke will have to dig deep to overcome his own trauma and forge the group into a force to be reckoned with. But if he fails, it's not just a city's survival but his immortal life that hangs by a fraying thread…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Broken World Publishing
• Release date: Mar 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9781949410402

C. Thomas Lafollette

C. Thomas Lafollette is a student of history and a world traveler. He’s dined with a Prime Minister, read poetry with Yevgeny Yevtushenko, and drank beer with monks. He’s the author of the action-adventure urban fantasy series Luke Irontree & The Last Vampire War and the forthcoming Red City Reaper series. Besides reading and writing, he loves a good action movie, be it a Hollywood blockbuster or a classic Samurai flick, as well as the occasional rom-com. He lives in Portland with his partner – the devastatingly talented author Amy Cissell – his stepdaughter, and their two jerkface cats.You can follow him and sign up for his newsletter at https://cthomaslafollette.com.

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Dark Fangs Rising

LUKE IRONTREE & THE LAST VAMPIRE WAR

Book 0 - The Centurion Immortal

Book 1 - Dark Fangs Rising - March 22, 2022

Book 2 - Dark Fangs Raging - April 19, 2022

Book 3 - Dark Fangs Descending - May 17, 2022

Book 4 - Blood Empire Reborn - August 23, 2022

Book 5 - Blood Empire Avenged - September 20, 2022

Book 6 - Blood Empire Infiltrated - October 18, 2022

Book 7 - Blood Empire Burning - November 15, 2022

Book 8 - Ancient Sword Falling - March 21, 2023

Book 9 - Ancient Sword Unyielding - August 22, 2023

Book 10 - Ancient Sword Shattering*

The Luke Irontree Historical Adventures

Rise of the Centurio Immortalis - April 5, 2022

Fall of the Centurio Immortalis - May 31, 2022

The Moonlight Centurion*

The Highway Centurion*

*Forthcoming

Titles and release dates may be subject to change.

DARK FANGS RISING

LUKE IRONTREE & THE LAST VAMPIRE WAR

BOOK 1

C. THOMAS LAFOLLETTE

EDITED BY

SUSAN LAHNA

Broken World Publishing

DARK FANGS RISING

C. Thomas Lafollette

A Broken World Publication

13820 NE Airport Way

Suite #K395495

Portland, OR 97251-1158

Dark Fangs Rising

Copyright © 2022 by C. Thomas Lafollette

ISBN 978-1-949410-40-2 (ebook);

ISBN 978-1-949410-41-9 (paperback)

Cover Design: Ravven

Developmental & Line Editing by: Suzanne Lahna

Copy Editing & Proofreading: Amy Cissell

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author at [e-mail].

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

CONTENTS

Get a Free Copy of The Centurion Immortal

Pronunciation Guide & Author’s Notes

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Lucius I

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Lucius II

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Lucius III

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Lucius IIII

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Lucius V

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Epilogue

Luke Irontree Will Return In

Dark Fangs Raging

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Glossary

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Also by C. Thomas Lafollette

To Amy

Your tireless support and all your work and advice are the reason this book exists

A ebook on a mobile phone and a book. A man stands in front of the Antwerp cathedral while holding a sword.

Your Free Book Is Waiting

The Centurion Immortal returns to the land of his birth, but he never suspected he’d be drawn into a supernatural turf war.

A vacation in Belgium is the perfect way for an incognito immortal to get in touch with his roots. Former Roman Legionnaire and vampire slayer Luke Irontree is pulled into a supernatural feud when he’s offered a job he can’t refuse—rescue an innocent woman and child from his ancient enemies. When he goes undercover at an EDM festival, he has everything under control. But when his prey find out he’s more than a simple tourist, things take a turn for the deadly.

Suddenly up to his neck in vampires, Luke must play a lethal game of cat and mouse in which his survival is the prize. Can he escape the trap set for him while rescuing the people caught in the middle? Or will the blood of his immortal life trickle down a rusty grate in a basement in Liege?

Get a free copy of a Luke Irontree Prequel

The Centurion Immortal here:

www.cthomaslafollette.com

PRONUNCIATION GUIDE & AUTHOR’S NOTES

Pronunciation: Latin names and words are mentioned throughout the book and are intended to be read with the classical Latin pronunciation. For instance, c is always pronounced hard, like a k. U is always a short oo sound. V typically sounds like a w. If you wish to go deeper, here's a link from Loyola University of Chicago.

Lucius – Loo-kih-oos

Silvanius – Sihl-wahn-ih-oos

Ferrata – Fehr-rah-tah

Cassius – Cahs-sih-oos

Latin Words: Latin words are used for effect and to add to the flavor of the story, not to reflect Latin grammar, declensions, or conjugations.

Anachronisms: It’s nearly impossible to write historical settings without some anachronisms, especially when you’re writing scenes set nearly 2,000 years in the past. Those used are done so intentionally for the purpose of story telling and to convey sentiments that would be recognizable to people then and now. Also, there are vampires.

Contents: This book contains some gore and body horror. There is also a brief, non-specific mention of child abuse, domestic violence, and transphobia.

CHAPTER

ONE

The streets were virtually empty, the people driven inside by the cold rain, the late hour, and the fear of being murdered. But after a mind-numbing and frustrating night of nothing, the sense of vampire finally drew Luke toward a couple stumbling down the rain damp sidewalk.

The vamp’s take-out meal was either drunk on booze or glamour, likely both. With his focus on his victim, he didn’t notice the slayer stalking him. The vampire maneuvered his impaired victim into the shadow of a massive statue of a woman kneeling, one hand reaching down while the other grasped a trident. Rain cascaded down her metal arm, streaming off her outstretched fingers onto the street below.

His baggy black hoodie and jeans were thoroughly damp after a long, drizzly night of stalking the streets patrolling for vampires, but at least his boots kept his feet dry and warm. Only his boots had kept him dry, even in the worst of the downpour. Luke reached over his shoulder into the folds of his hood, ensuring his sword’s handle remained unobstructed by the damp cloth, then returned his hand to his side.

Excuse me, sir. Could you spare a moment? I seem to be lost. Can you point me in the right direction? Luke asked.

The overly polite and formal tone should mark him as an easy target—a tourist or a naïve bumpkin. A bit of buzzed slur added just the right spice to Luke’s charade. He distractedly scratched at his overgrown, scruffy beard. He hadn’t cared enough to trim it since he’d returned from his trip to Belgium last spring. The vamp, clad in a stylish jacket, hefted the woman against the wall.

Luke waited for the man to turn around. Instead, it was a woman who disentangled herself from her victim to take Luke for her next course. Most vampires tended to be male. The drunk slumped forward, momentum stopped by the wall.

The vamp strode toward him. The short, dark-haired, white woman looked him over. Her expression went from annoyed to predatory to pleasantly helpful in the blink of an eye. If Luke was as drunk as he was feigning, he’d never have suspected a thing. Certainly! she said with a small smile on her face. What are you looking for?

As she approached him he wobbled, catching himself as if he’d tripped on nothing, the predatory gleam returned to her eyes. As oblivious as she was to her surroundings—letting Luke follow her and missing that his drunkenness wasn’t genuine—she must be a young vamp.

Luke ran his right hand through his long, dark, wet hair, feigning nervousness by rubbing the back of his neck. Um, I’m not sure… I’m staying at a hotel near here, but I seem to be lost.

Fortunately, you ran into me, the vampire said, her lips parting into a carnivorous grin.

What’s—what’s wrong with your teeth?

Needle-sharp fangs descended from her upper jaw. She tilted her head slightly to the side as her smile grew impossibly wider. Oh, these? In a moment, you’ll forget you ever saw them.

Luke faked a nervous chuckle and let his hand slide down into his hood to grip the well-worn handle of his gladius. Twenty-five inches of viciously sharp Toledo steel alloyed with a bit of silver, its scabbard was angled toward his right shoulder. With the flick of his thumb, the snap closure popped free.

His new friend leaned seductively into his left side. She raised her arm to put it around his shoulders so she could more easily guide him to his destination—her dinner plate.

Luke grabbed the vampire’s arm and spun the creature until she was facing away from him, keeping those dangerous fangs out of striking range. He pulled his gladius from its quick-draw sheath and brought it down through the woman’s leather clad elbow.

WHAT THE FUCK, MAN! She wailed, whirling around. Black blood arced from her stump. Her eyes turned red, easy confidence replaced with raw fury. A wound that would have downed a howling barbarian had merely pissed her off. We could have done this the easy way, but now you’re going to feel every moment.

The vampire crouched and flexed her remaining hand. The nails extended into nasty looking claws, and she launched a series of clumsy swipes. She lacked any skill; Luke side stepped every one with ease. With each subsequent miss, her rage grew, fueling her speed, but failing to improve her accuracy.

Luke snorted as she continued to come up empty. With a guttural growl, she finally landed a blow to Luke’s chest. Triumph quickly morphed into confusion as her claws found no soft flesh, but screeched against hard steel.

Luke’d had enough. Patiently, he let the momentum of the frustrated vamp’s next attack carry her past him. Then he spun and brought the blade down on the vamp’s left shoulder, relieving her of her other arm. A single kick to the back of her legs sent her crashing to the ground. The creature whimpered as she struggled to push her severed limbs off the ground. The bloody, oozing stump slid. She landed face down on the concrete. He pinned her down with a foot on her butt. Taking his time, he reached beneath his waistband and flipped the catch to withdraw his second weapon from its from its scabbard.

The rudis, a gladius made of wood, was a piece of art. Gleaming, razor-sharp steel-silver alloy lined the cutting edges, converging at the point. Intricate designs made of silver filigree covered the flat sides of the wooden blade. The warm, deep honey gold intermixed with the rich, dark browns of the hardwood, highlighting the natural pattern of the Persian Ironwood’s grain. With a flick of his wrist, the steel sword sliced into the vamp’s leather jacket, between the shoulder blade and the spine.

My coat! she whimpered. The blood was slowing to a trickle, her stumps already sealing.

I already cut both sleeves off. What’s one more rip? Taking aim at the incision, Luke plunged the rudis through. The blade scraped along the vampire’s scapula, backbone, and ribs, until it found the heart. She wouldn’t be worrying about her coat anymore.

Kneeling over her body, Luke rested his forehead on the pommel of the rudis and whispered an incantation he’d repeated more times than he could remember. Its cutting edges and the silver filigree began to glow. Pure, white light slithered down the silver into the vampire’s body, then continued the circuit back up, disappearing into Luke’s forehead. The corpse went rigid. Steam rose where the silver touched it. As he withdrew the sacred blade, the corpse deflated and dissolved. Only a viscous reddish-black goo remained.

Damn it, Luke muttered, shaking his head. A new vampire. All goo and no go. I thought her moves seemed weak.

The sound of retching reminded him he wasn’t alone. He found the vamp’s intended victim on all fours, heaving up everything he’d consumed that night. Luke scanned around for something to clean his blades on. The vamp’s clothes were out; the erstwhile young lady of the fang was currently drenching her trendy ensemble in the rapidly spreading goo that had been her body.

Luke looked down, pursing his lips. Fucking vamp ruined my favorite hoodie. With care, he slid each blade one at a time into the belly pocket. The rain-soaked fabric was a perfect cleaning rag. Weaponry stowed, he slowly walked toward the man.

W-what’s wrong with me?

It appears you drank too much.

Did she drug me? Was she going to rob me?

Something like that, Luke replied as he telegraphed his movements, trying not to spook him. Luke followed the man’s gaze to what remained of his would-be date, slowly liquefying on the sidewalk and running into the gutter. The poor guy retched again, but nothing came out.

Pl-pl-please don’t hurt me, he whimpered between dry heaves.

I’m not going to hurt you. He pointed at the slick of vampire goo. She was going to.

The glamour drunk man nodded.

Luke pointed west. Let’s walk up to Broadway. It’s well lit. Do you have a phone? You can call a Lyft or a taxi.

O-OK.

They moved as quickly as the man’s frightened, inebriated body would carry him. As they walked past the nearly vanished remnants of the unlucky vampire, the man looked anywhere else. When they got to Broadway, Luke waited with him under a streetlight until a car arrived to take him home. Just as he stepped into the back seat, he turned to Luke and said, Thank you.

Luke nodded and walked back into the dreary night.

As the car settled and the springs groaned, Luke pulled the parking brake lever on his old Volvo wagon after parking it in his garage. He grabbed the equipment-filled tote from the rear hatch. Propping the laden plastic against the door frame, he hit the garage door button and headed inside. A hulking, orange tabby cat greeted him as he locked the door.

Mrrrraaaoooo!

Hey, Alfred. Stay out of trouble tonight? He usually did, not having opposable thumbs and all.

Luke set the tote down, then dropped a scoop of kibble into the cat’s empty bowl. Alfred ran to the bowl, buried his giant head in it, and chomped down. Luke shucked his ripped wet hoodie and grabbed a hand towel to dry his wavy hair. He unlaced his boots and left them on a mat by the door before heading to the fridge. Grabbing a Pfriem Pils out of the fridge, he walked back and snagged the tote.

I’m headed down to the Batcave, Alfred, if you want to come… The tinkling of the cat’s collar bell as he sauntered over to Luke answered the invite.

Once in the office, he engaged the hidden mechanism. One of the bookcases swung open, revealing a steel spiral staircase. It led down to a square room with dark hardwood flooring. Along one wall, two Danish mid-century chairs sat, an end table of the same style between them. An expansive rug covered the floor. Luke set the tote down near his workstation, a recess with along the wall furthest from the stairs. Alfred ran over to one of the chairs, hopped onto the seat, spun a couple donuts, then sprawled out. He took up most of the seat, one of his front paws stretched out over the edge.

Luke looked at the cat. What’s it going to be tonight, eh, Alfred? We feeling up? Down? Al Green?

Mrao!

Ah! Good choice, Alfred. ‘Let’s Stay Together’ it is! He walked to the wall of records and flipped through the albums in the G section until he found the right one. Pulling out the album, he stopped halfway, shoulders slumping, and slid the aging album back into place. Luke stepped over to the Ns. Taking the second black disk most of the way out of the tan dust jacket depicting peeling paint, he hesitated. You sure Alfie? What about Nine Inch Nails? Or is ‘sad guy listens to Downward Spiral’ too cliché?

Alfred responded to his name with a raspy purr.

You’re right. Al Green was the correct choice. He opened the top of the huge console unit and set the needle down on side one. The smooth interplay of horns, guitars, and drums led into the silky voice of Al Green. With an exhausted sigh, Luke grabbed a glass from the bar shelf and poured his first beer.

Settling in, he popped the top off the tote and set both swords out on his work bench. He quickly but meticulously cleaned both, checked for damage, and oiled them before placing them on a rack. From a tall cabinet next to the worktable, he rolled out an armor stand on a rotating base. With both hands, he retrieved from the plastic tote an ancient set of lorica segmentata, placing it with reverence on the stand. Phrases engraved in Ancient Greek, Latin, and Old Persian covered every flawless band. The lettering—so thick the light didn’t quite know how to reflect off the steel—wove protections, giving the metal plates preternatural strength and silence.

Absentmindedly, he found himself tracing the crescent moon, engraved in the breast plate covering his heart. A second moon matched the first on the horizontal band under the breast plate. These armaments were nearly as old as he was, his longest relationship in nineteen-hundred plus years of existence. Today, they were the only ones that remained, apart from the orange tabby grooming himself on the chair.

Luke let out a long sigh, lips closing into a frown. He squeezed his eyes shut and placed his head in his hands. A gladius, a rudis, a set of lorica segmentata, and an Alfred…

Mrao. Alfred replied. The cat was sitting at Luke’s feet, gazing up at him.

Luke sat up, making room in his lap. He scooped up the cat and held him close, supporting his weight while scratching his ears. I’m tired, Alfie, he sighed. So damn tired… Burying his face in the thick fur, Luke sought the only comfort he had left—a growing catalog of records and a housecat purring in his arms.

When he’d picked it as his new home sixty years ago, he’d hoped Portland would be a good place to avoid vampires, at least in serious numbers. It was a city, but only nominally; certainly not one important enough to become a supernatural hub. But it didn’t matter how far he ran, he couldn’t escape his duty. The monsters wouldn’t let him.

CHAPTER

TWO

W ell, buddy. Luke bent down to scratch Alfred between his ears. I’m going out for dinner, so you’re on your own tonight.

Luke slung his backpack over his shoulder and pulled the door open before turning and looking back at the orange tabby cat as he proceeded to ignore Luke by grooming his paw. No wild parties while I’m gone.

Howling Moon Brewing had moved into an old brick building on North Lombard Avenue just over a year ago. Since then, it’d become Luke’s regular watering hole. The menu was superb, the beers some of the best he’d found since leaving Europe behind. Best of all, the atmosphere was usually exactly what he liked—dark and warm. The high back booths provided intimacy ideal for a date night, or if you preferred, you could sit at the bar and chat with the owner or one of the bartenders. Best of all, it was a short walk from his home. The staff knew by now that he was best left alone after he placed his drink order, except for the rare times he engaged with them on his own.

Hey, Pablo. How’s it going tonight?

Pablo idly took out clean glasses from the dishwasher and stacked them on the shelves, periodically sweeping an eye around the bar to check if the few guests needed anything. Not bad. We’ve had better nights, but I can’t complain.

Pablo stood about five foot six and had the brown complexion of Latin America that marked him as having Indigenous and European heritage. His black hair was coiffed into a hip modern cut, the sides shaved and the top left long. He wore black jeans and a black tee featuring the brewery’s logo of a wolf’s head howling at a full moon. Tattoos covered his muscular arms.

Luke finished his beer and held up the empty. Another, please. Just seems a bit quiet tonight.

Pablo brought Luke’s beer and set it down in front of him. Yeah, a bit. It’s been that way a lot lately. Maybe all the crime on the news is keeping people home. He shrugged. Hard to tell. We haven’t been open that long. Hey, did you hear about the weird shit they found by the Portlandia statue this morning?

I must have missed that story, Luke replied.

They found a full outfit oozing some black goop. And get this, someone had cut the arms off the leather jacket. Weird, man.

Luke chuckled nervously. That does sound weird. Anything new on tap I should know about?

Yeah! I’ve got a Belgian-style wit I’ve been experimenting with. I think I got it dialed in.

I’ll take one of those. Wits are one of my favorites. He hadn’t had a proper one since his recent trip to Belgium. He’d always been fond of the style since its invention centuries earlier.

Really? Not IPA? Seems that’s all anyone orders these days. Pablo grabbed a glass and poured a hazy blond beer with a thick, frothy head. Let me know what you think.

Luke pulled out his usual chair at the bar, hung his backpack on the hook underneath, and grabbed his beer. Nice aroma. Good balance between citrus, coriander, and grainy notes. He took a sip.

Excellent nose, Pablo said.

I like the flavor. Let me finish this glass, and I’ll give you a full report.

Good man. You can’t really judge a beer from one sip. I’ll be back. Pablo wandered off to check on the few other customers.

Luke’s dinner and a third beer showed up about the same time three guys walked in. Popped-collar polos under jackets and jeans with bedazzled rear pockets would have marked them as young bros who could be mistaken for University of Portland students, if not for Luke’s ability to tell the living from the no longer alive. He’d have to keep an eye on them.

Luke couldn’t even enjoy the flavor of his food, shoveling it down while trying to inconspicuously stare at the undead jackasses flirting, buying beer, and glamouring their targets. The bros chatted up a trio of women and then joined them in their booth. The mirrored back bar afforded Luke a decent view. He had to take care to mix in a couple glasses of water. Luke had only wanted a quiet night down at the local pub; how had their numbers grown so unchecked?

As the evening progressed, the crowd began to grow thin. The vampires gave it a few minutes after every other booth had cleared before ushering the three women out the door—opting to take their meals to go. Luke made eye contact with Pablo, set some cash on the bar, grabbed his backpack, and followed. The door open and closed again as he stepped into the damp evening. Pablo followed, yet Luke had no way of knowing if he had help or not.

The three bros and the women they’d glamoured walked toward the alley behind the bar. Pablo laid a hand on Luke’s shoulder and stepped in front, putting his body between the bros and his regular customer. Luke couldn’t see any marks on his neck, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have them somewhere else.

Step away from the ladies, gentlemen. Doesn’t seem like they’re interested in what you’re offering, Pablo said.

Bystander, then. Luke unzipped his backpack and slowly drew the gladius and rudis from their custom sheaths. Pablo, back up a bit, please. I appreciate your effort, but you don’t want to tangle with this lot.

Pablo kept his eyes on the trio. I’m OK, Luke. I can handle myself. No one comes into my pub and assaults people in my alley.

I’m not saying you can’t. I’m just saying you should trust me about these guys. They might be a bit more than you’re expecting…

The three bros reluctantly set aside their prey and turned toward them. The one in the lead said, If you two don’t want a rough evening, I suggest you keep walking.

I think you’re the ones messing with more than you can handle here. Leave the innocents alone and get the fuck out of here. Otherwise, things might get a touch…splattery, Luke said.

The three vampires chuckled. I guess our dinner just got tastier. The lead guy focused, making eye contact with Luke and Pablo in an attempt to glamour them.

Look, ‘bros.’ Just get the fuck out of here before you regret your choices, Pablo threatened.

Glamours couldn’t affect Luke, but Pablo was a surprise.

"You get the fuck out of here before we rip you a new asshole and then shove your fucking brown head up it," the lead vamp said.

Of course, they have to be racists, too. I guess they’re not going to move along. I’m not sure you need the hardware, Luke. Pablo rolled his shoulders, loosening up his muscles.

For these three, yeah, I think I’ll keep them out. Luke twirled the gladius once.

Despite the distraction provided by Pablo and Luke, the three women hadn’t moved from their positions, propped against the alley wall.

Hey, girls! Run! Pablo shouted.

The women didn’t answer, didn’t move an inch. The three vamps got progressively meaner as their fangs descended in murderous smiles. Razor-sharp claws joined them for the party.

Luke stepped in front of Pablo, eyes on their opponents. OK, Pablo. Stay behind me. Try to avoid their claws and fangs, and don’t let them get you pinned down. They’re faster than your normal run of the mill beered up bros and a lot stronger.

Luke stalked forward, keeping himself between Pablo and the creeping vampires. The vamps opened space between the three of them, hoping to outflank Luke and attack from multiple sides. He spared a thought for his armor, secured on its rack in his basement. He usually didn’t need it for trips to the pub.

Luke feinted left and low with his rudis, then whirled right with the gladius and lopped off the vampire’s head with a backhanded swing. Keeping his weapons up, he peeked over his shoulder to check on Pablo. The bartender had peeled his shirt off and was sprouting prodigious volumes of body hair and a lupine snout.

What the hell had Luke gotten himself into?

Stepping over the decapitated vamp, Luke maneuvered to put the girls at his back. Effectively trapping the vampires between him and what was quickly becoming a very large werewolf in bipedal form. He hoped Pablo would keep his cool and not go berserk on him or the victims. He’d hate to have to hurt him; the man brewed good beer.

The two remaining vampires—confidence dissolving from their faces, their eyes flicking about for escape routes—at last realized that neither of the men were going to be the pushovers they’d initially assumed. The lead vampire eyed the sword-wielding hunter and the hulking werewolf, then settled his gaze on Luke.

You’re the one who’s been killing our brethren. You’re ‘The Hunter.’ You’ll pay for this. His casual dude-bro dialect dropped away, replaced by an antiquated, upper crust English accent. He looked at his partner. Break free and report what’s happened here. Bring reinforcements if you can.

Things were about to get interesting. If this vamp was as old as his accent indicated, he’d be much more powerful than the newly whelped bloodsuckers Luke’d been dispatching with ease lately. It’d been several months since he’d encountered anything this old. Luke’s eyes narrowed, and he backed off a bit, switching to a defensive stance. He needed to protect those he could and keep the vamps from scampering off.

Pablo had finished his transformation and was stalking toward the vampires while ensuring he cut off their escape route. The British vampire pulled a long double-edge dagger from under the back of his shirt. As he slid into a fighter’s stance, it became clear he knew how to handle himself and his blade. His young companion, however, was a lot less cocksure. The younger vampire’s eyes darted around nervously, looking for an exit.

Luke narrowed his eyes, planning his next move. Pablo, keep the little guy from getting away.

Pablo grunted and growled as Luke slashed his gladius toward the Brit’s head. He met Luke’s sword with his dagger and the two blades slid together, down to their hilt guards. The fanger took a swipe at Luke’s midsection with his claws. Luke slapped it aside with the flat of his rudis. The vampire yanked his hand back with a