I: The Phone Call

Ricardo Swindelli sat in the executive swivel chair behind his desk, rocking idly back and forth, waiting for the phone to ring and wondering if he could be bothered to get up and get a sixth can of Dr Pepper from the cooler on the other side of his office. Finally making a decision, he got up and went to the small cabinet and extracted another can of the dubiously fruit-flavoured fizzy nectar he loved so much. He gazed out the window, shielding his eyes against the sun with one hand (unusually, his shades were lying on the desk). It was late summer and the temperature was around 85F with 80% humidity. It was only 11 o'clock and already he needed another shower. He glared at the broken air conditioning unit. 'Where the hell are those lousy repair men?' he wondered. He checked his watch. "I called them over a frickin' hour ago", he muttered to himself. He'd just popped the can open when the phone rang. He rushed over to the desk, almost spilling his drink in his haste and grabbed the receiver. "Ricardo Swindelli, Paranormal Investigator...how can I help you?" He'd had to change his official title as his office shared a street with several other businesses of the more traditional kind. Even so, his cover "profession" didn't go down well with his neighbours...they called him a crank and said his presence lowered the tone of the neighbourhood. Not long after he'd opened the office, a small group had actively tried to force him out. They might have succeeded had they not chosen the day a number of his small circle of friends had happened to be visiting. Sharing his enthusiasm (well, obsession actually) for weaponry of all kinds, they had brought a plethora of guns, swords, knives and crossbows, as well as a variety of more obscure instruments designed for inflicting pain and death. This had been going on for some time and their monthly visits had turned into swap meets. On seeing their friend confronted by the angry mob, some of whom had brought weapons of their own, they'd pushed through the crowd and swaggered into the office. Withdrawing various weapons from their carry cases, the group had ostentatiously displayed them and made loud, thinly-veiled suggestions about what they might be used for. This had only added to Swindelli's reputation as something of a basket-case, but at least it had the effect of making his harassers back down with gratifying haste. Since that episode, his disgruntled 'neighbours' had resorted to low-level nuisance tactics, such as blocking his parking space and shoving junk mail...and other, less pleasant items, through his letterbox. The voice on the other end of the phone sounded Germanic, feminine and confused. "Er...excuse me...I vas under ze impression you vere a vampire hunter and general slayer hoff ze undead?" "That depends lady...are you from the FBI, Sherriff's Office, TV, radio or other media outlet?" German accents weren't common in Texas, but they weren't unheard of either. The woman sounded even more nonplussed. "Vhat? No...I am Countess Ursula von Wolfenstein. I haff a castle in ze Rhine Valley, vich I fear is being used by vampires to launch attacks on nearby villages and I urgently need somevone to, how you say, deal viz zem. Your rating in ze Index of Supernatural Bounty Hunters is...not ze best...but you are von of ze cheapest". Swindelli cocked his head to one side. If she'd looked him up in the ISBH, she was obviously serious. You had to know the right people, just to know how to find the Index. Years of being plagued by hoaxers, prank callers and journalists looking to expose and ridicule them, had taught people in his profession to be very careful how they advertised their services. Their rating system had been a bone of contention for some time now. He was, as his peers would attest, very effective at what he did. It was just that his jobs had a tendency to involve a lot of collateral damage. "In that case, yes - I'm the guy you're looking for. Sorry, but I have to be careful...I'm sure you understand. People in our line of work tend not to be very popular with a lot of folks, for a lot of reasons". He tried, unsuccessfully, to keep the indignation from his voice. "They think we're nutcases, scam artists, or even devil worshippers...can you believe that? Next time they start harassing me, I've a good mind to show them my illustrated copy of the Necronomicon...that ought to shut them up!" He then remembered her last comment. "And by the way, I'm not cheap...just good value, okay?" "Excuse me - I meant no offence". She sounded bored and Ricardo made a mental note to not rant about his professional problems to potential clients...he couldn't afford to lose any more. "So...are you interested? I can offer you a hundred souzand Euros, plus expenses". Swindelli did some quick mental arithmentic to convert that figure into dollars and liked what he came up with. "That will do very nicely, thank you ma'am", he replied, laying on as much charm as he could muster. "I'll need half in advance though, as I'm currently experiencing some...ah...cash-flow problems. If you can handle that I can be ready to go...lets see now...how's the end of the week sound?" "Zat vill be fine. I'll haff ze money vired to your account tomorrow". They arranged the details of their meeting and after ending the call, Swindelli leaned back in his chair, basking in the late morning sun, feeling very pleased with himself.

II: Déjá Vú

Ricardo sat on the edge of the four-poster bed, nodding approvingly as he surveyed the luxuriously appointed room...this certainly beat his cramped apartment in Brownwood. However a combination of jet lag and expensive German wine was making it a struggle to keep his eyes open. Earlier, he'd flown first-class from Houston to Cologne and taken the ICE (high-speed train) to Dusseldorf. One of Countess Ursula's flunkies had met him at the station in a black Mercedes limo and chauffered him to Wolfenstein castle. As they had left the city limits behind and entered the lush green landscapes of the Rhine Valley, he'd begun to get an uneasy feeling. Memories surfaced from a few years ago, when he'd been called on to shut down a Hellmouth that had opened when a novice warlock had tried summoning a demon. That had been a messy job - the final body count had been in the hundreds! He remembered the government had covered it up as a major gas explosion. In fact, the very castle he was now staying in had been virtually razed in the incident. It had been a regrettable but necessary act of destruction. He'd seen no option but to rig those incendiary charges in the cellars and cause the massive building to collapse on itself. It had been the only way to destroy the artifact creating the portal between this world and the Netherworld, which he'd eventually located in one of the castle's many dungeons. The ruins had later become a tourist attraction. The new owners had done a remarkable job of restoring the old pile to its former glory. On the outside, the new stonework was pretty obvious, but inside they'd restored the opulent decor so that only an expert in period interior design could tell it was new. He'd just returned to his room from a dinner party held in the main hall, where he'd been introduced to the Countess and her friends. Once again, his instincts had kicked in. There was something...odd about Ursula. Come to think of it, there was something strange about all the people he'd met tonight. Maybe it was just his natural paranoia, (the product of several years' experience as a supernatural bounty hunter), but the heavy drapes and hundreds of candles in the hall - despite the fact it wasn't really dark yet - had set off a quiet but persistent alarm in the back of his mind. Also, there was the matter of the clothes everyone was wearing. They all looked like models from a gothic fashion catalogue...right down to the white face paint and heavy eyeliner. He'd groaned inwardly when he'd been politely informed that an outfit had been left out for him in his room. The white frilly shirt hadn't been so bad, but the black velvet suit and matching pointy-toed boots had made him long for his usual attire of combat pants, t-shirt and military-style boots. Still, the evening had been very pleasant, apart from the awkward silence when he'd commented that the sauerbraten could have done with some garlic. He'd just assumed the whole thing was some obscure German custom. His doubts had been pushed further to one side when he'd been introduced to a girl named Maria. Slim and of medium height, her pale, elfin face framed by a mass of dark curls, he'd been completely blown away by her wit and charm. Not only that but her period costume was very low cut in the traditional way, which had left him struggling to pay attention to what she was saying most of the time. Still, she had taken a real shine to him and had asked to meet him after the party... There was a discreet knock on the door, which roused Ricardo from his reverie. "Come in..." he said, looking expectantly at the door. It opened to reveal Maria. She came in and sat next to him. "Um...can I get you a drink?" he asked. She shook her head. "Later...right now I have something else in mind..." She never finished her sentence as she jumped on him and began kissing him in an almost frenzied manner. Man, this is one horny chick! he thought, as he fell back under her weight. She began tearing at his shirt. She pulled it off and things started to become more intense...until she began biting his neck. "Whoa there! Take it easy girl!" It didn't hurt that much, but he'd rather not have an enormous, highly visible hickey the next morning. When he opened his eyes, his blood turned to ice and all thoughts of getting laid evaporated. A pair of pearly white fangs had sprouted at the corners of her mouth and her eyes had turned yellow, with cat's pupils. She was staring at him hungrily. Her face hadn't deformed in the grotesque way that they often did - for that at least he was grateful. "Man, I should've known this was going too well" he groaned. He tried to push her off, but her supernatural strength kept him pinned to the bed. Drawing his legs up from underneath her, he managed to deliver a strong kick to her stomach, which sent her flying. She picked herself up off the floor with a snarl and flew at him - literally! Apparently she'd mastered the art of levitation too... Ricardo rolled off the bed, tipping over the bedside cabinet as he did so. Its contents spilled out around him. Among them were some of his undead-killing paraphernalia. He grabbed a stake and jumped up, whirling around just as the vamp landed on the bed. He kicked her legs out from under her, jumped on top of her and with practised precision drove the stake through her heart. She screamed and exploded in a shower of dust. He fell forward and got a face full of ex-vampire. "Man, I hate it when they do that! Why couldn't she just slowly wither and die?". He then looked at the fine white powder that was all over him and shuddered. "That gives a whole new meaning to having a girl all over you". He noticed the funny taste in his mouth and spat. "Ack! Ew...gross! He got up and washed himself off as best he could in the en-suite bathroom. As he finished getting dressed in his normal gear and gathering the tools of his trade, the door opened again to reveal a crowd of similarly toothy, yellow-eyed newcomers. Swindelli sighed. It looked like this was going to be a long night...

III: Outstaying Your Welcome

A woman pushed her way to the front of the crowd. "Ah, Countess Ursula. You're looking...uh...different..." The Countess smiled evilly. "I vas surprised you didn't vork it out sooner. I had expected somevone viz your reputation to be more difficult to ensnare". "Well, to be honest I did have my doubts, but the pay was too good to pass up...got bills to pay and all that you know". She looked over at the bed. "I see you at least managed to evade Maria. It vas a cheap ploy I know, but it doesn't hurt to try". "I think it hurt her a lot more than it did me...though not by much", Swindelli said, rubbing his neck. "Your foolishness has led you to your doom Svindelli", said the Countess, as she and the others advanced on him. "Count Ferdinand entrusted me viz ze task of destroying you after you svarted his plans six years ago in zis very place. Revenge vill be very sweet..." "Uh...I take it that means I won't be collecting the rest of my fee then?" said Swindelli, backing away, looking desperately for an escape route...none were immediately apparent. The Countess laughed maniacally. "Seize him!" she cried. Two vampires strode towards him. They didn't look very friendly. Swindelli groped blindly in his rucksack for a weapon. His hand closed over a small glass jar. Pulling it out, he looked at it. In the dim light, it looked like a jar of home-made habanero salsa.What the hell? he thought. It must have been left over from a camping trip. On closer inspection, it turned out to be one of his other home-made specialities...an incendiary grenade. He'd forgotten he usually kept some in his inventory...this one was a blend of gunpowder and white phosphorous, with a dash of silver nitrate and garlic essence for good measure. The part he was most proud of was the screw-cap detonator, incorporating thin discs of flint and iron, which struck a spark, igniting the 5-second delay fuse. He gave the lid a twist and did a silent four-count, while slowly backing away, before flinging it at one of the advancing vamps. It missed, but that turned out to be a good thing as the fuse ignited the powder mix, just as the jar shattered against the wall, showering its contents over those who had hung back. A miniature fireball blossomed out from the point of impact, engulfing the nearest vampires. They began screaming and slapping themselves. Several exploded after just a few seconds' exposure to the fire. Several others fell on the floor rolling around in agony. The two vamps attacking Swindelli stopped and whirled round in confusion. Swindelli took advantage of the chaos to sprint forward, barrelling through burning vampires and out of the room. He sprinted down several flights of stairs before pausing for breath. Digging around in his rucksack he found another jar. He smiled as he looked at it.The Anarchists' Cookbook strikes again! he thought.

IV: Vampires, Vampires...Everywhere!

While the upper floors were thrown into confusion, people running this way and that...some of them even trying to put out the blaze, which by this time had engulfed the entire room and was still spreading, Swindelli stealthily made his way downstairs to the main hall. At the first floor landing, whose grand sweeping staircase led down to the main foyer, he stopped cold. Waiting for him were at least four dozen more vampires, their eyes tracking him like searchlights. Aw crap! he thought. He reached down to his right hip and felt the flechette gun holstered there and got an idea. It wasn't your ordinary needle gun. Ricardo's had been customised to shoot toothpick-sized darts of wood from a block cut from a holy rosewood tree from the Vatican gardens, blessed by the Pope himself. This wasn't something you could buy at an ordinary gun store. It had been a gift from the Holy See, following a successful job in Rome to flush out a nest of vampires that had tried to bring down the Catholic church. It had proven to be a very useful weapon. While it wouldn't kill a vampire unless you got up close and unloaded a full burst right in the chest, it certainly made any would-be attacker think twice. Slipping his arms through his rucksack straps and tightening them, Swindelli leapt astride the wide, polished bannister and slid down the staircase, rapid-firing the flechette gun as he went. It spat dozens of needle-sharp darts into the assembled vampires, who howled and clawed at their faces and various other parts of their bodies. Reaching the bottom Ricardo lashed out with both feet at a pair of vamps standing at the end of the banister, his momentum sending them sprawling. He slid off the railing, landing lightly on his feet and took a few seconds to orient himself. Now what's the fastest way outta here? he wondered. With the main hall off to the left, he turned right, heading down a wide corridor, along which were arrayed a number of doors. Dammit, they all look the same...how the hell are guests meant to find their way around? he thought. Then he realised the majority of guests probably weren't meant to. Just then he spotted a butler coming up the corridor. Its grey undead complexion and lurching gait caused the word 'zombie' to flash through Swindelli's mind. On seeing Ricardo, it dropped the tray it was carrying and lurched towards him growling and snarling. Swindelli holstered the needle-gun and waited until it was within arm's reach before grabbing the lapel of its immaculate tuxedo jacket. He shoved it against the wall, reached behind him with one hand and withdrew the silver-bladed katana from its sheath on his back. He backed up a few steps and jammed the tip of the sword into the creature's chest. The zombie's perplexed expression almost made Ricardo laugh, but then it wasn't the first time he'd caused a member of the undead to be so taken aback. The creature stared at him uncomprehendingly. It had never been attacked before. The living tended to run away screaming when they saw him. "Okay Igor..." The zombie stopped struggling and snarling for a moment. "How did you know my name?" it said in a voice that sounded almost human, apart from a slight wheezing and slurring. All zombie lackeys are called Igor, aren't they? I'm relatively new in this business but even I know its a an old tradition round these parts". The zombie shrugged...or tried to. Un-living with acute rigor mortis made any subtle movement difficult. "What do you want?" "Tell me the quickest route out of here. Preferably one without any trapdoors, saw blades or any other farewell presents for unwelcome guests. Do that and I might let you live". With some difficulty, the zombie raised an sarcastic eyebrow. "Okay wiseguy...tell me how to get out and I won't slice and dice your undead ass into dog food..." The zombie pointed down the corridor. "Fourth door on your left". "Thank you". Swindelli drove the sword into the zombie's chest and cut downwards, disemboweling it. Igor managed a surprised expression before slumping to the ground. Pulling the blade free, Ricardo took aim at the creature's neck and with one smooth swing, decapitated it - the only sure way of killing a zombie. Swindelli looked down at the now-fully-dead butler. "That'll teach you to be a smartass". Wiping the blade on the zombie's tuxedo, he continued down the hall to the door indicated by the now completely-deceased butler.

V: Never Trust a Zombie

Swindelli cautiously opened the fourth door on his left. On the other side was silent pitch darkness. It didn't look like any exit he had ever seen before. The zombie had obviously lied to him, though for some reason he wasn't surprised, or even angry. This might have had something to do with the more pressing concern that if he didn't get a move on, he'd be facing the horde of vamps he'd needled earlier by the stairs. He stood looking at the darkness beyond thoughtfully for a moment. He carefully prodded the walls, floor and ceiling with his sword, checking for booby traps and faintly hoping he might find a light switch, but his probing revealed nothing. He dug his torch out of his rucksack and shone it inside and although it lit up the space ten feet or so in front of him, it only served to make the surrounding darkness even blacker. Swindelli finally decided that if he was going to die, he was at least going to see it coming. Switching the torch off, he backed out of the room. Not a moment too soon as it turned out. The vamps from the foyer were clustered at the far end of the corridor. As one they rushed after him, snarling and cursing. Ricardo ran down to the end of the corridor, yanked the door open and sped blindly down the passageway, ignoring his brain's repeated warnings that this was not a smart thing to do and startling more of the castle's undead residents along the way. Several doorways and changes of direction later and he was well and truly lost. This part of the castle was quiet. At least he seemed to have shaken off his pursuers...although the way the eyes appeared to move in some of the portraits and stuffed animal heads that adorned the walls freaked him out slightly. Was he just being paranoid or was that deer really staring at him? He couldn't decide... What was more he was getting the feeling he was being followed. As he moved slowly and quietly down the carpeted hallway, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he experienced an odd tingling sensation. His finely-tuned internal radar was making loud beeping noises in the primeval part of the brain that instinctively knows when all is not well. He stopped and whirled round, his flechette gun at the ready...but found himself staring down an empty corridor. He did this several more times until he thought he saw the tiniest movement from behind a curtain next to a window a short way behind him. Fixing his gaze and his aim on the patch of shadow, he walked slowly and silently towards it. As he got closer a dark shape broke from cover behind one of the long heavy drapes. "ONE MORE STEP AND I'LL SHOOT!" yelled Swindelli. The figure froze...then slowly turned to face him. On closer inspection it turned out to be a girl...well a female vampire at any rate. Medium height and slim, as Maria had been, only this one was blonde. The other similarity was that her period gown also showed off her ample charms. What is it with these vampire chicks and their heaving bosoms? he wondered. The girl slowly sank to her knees and bowed her head. "Go ahead...you vill be doing me a favour", she said, staring at the floor. Swindelli, with his gun trained squarely over her chest, suddenly found himself unable to pull the trigger. 'Dammit, I can't just kill her like that', he thought. 'Why not?' a voice in his head asked. 'Not going soft, are we?' 'No!' 'So what's your problem...got the hots for her, have you?' sneered his darker side. 'Shut up! It just doesn't seem right - thats all. I mean, she's not trying to kill me like Maria was...or worse - turn me into an undead, blood sucking servant of Satan'. 'And...?' 'Oh, all right! She is pretty darned cute...' Swindelli shook his head in exasperation. Sometimes it could be a real pain having a megalomaniac alter ego that insisted on arguing with you. Meanwhile the girl was looking up at him with beautiful big blue eyes, her expression one of deep sorrow. "Is somesing wrong? Vhy haff you not shot me?" Swindelli continued to stare blankly while he tried to decide on a course of action. "You are ze vampire hunter, are you not? Please, I beg you...end my suffering". To his surprise, her plaintive tone tugged at Ricardo's heart strings. The pistol wavered as Swindelli struggled with his thoughts. "Um...uh...yes...that's definitely one aspect of my job. But I do a lot of stuff besides that. In any case, I need your help." "You need my help?" repeated the girl, sounding confused. "Yeah. I need to get out of this place in one big hurry. You know the quickest way out of here?" he asked, finally letting his gun arm drop to his side. The girl nodded. "Well, I'd appreciate it if you hurry up and show me, as your friends are looking for me right now and they're a little unhappy to say the least". The girl slowly got to her feet and gestured for Ricardo to follow her. 'Chicken!' crowed his dark side. 'I'm warning you! This is NOT the time to screw with me. Now shut the hell up!' Internal monologue over, he watched as the girl slowly rose to her feet and began to walk down the corridor. He followed behind at a safe distance, keeping his sword and gun at the ready.

VI: The Enemy of Your Enemy

As Swindelli followed the girl through another door that led into yet another passageway, he began to wonder whether he could really trust her...she was a vampire, after all. On the other hand, he was lost and he didn't fancy going back to ask any of her kindred for directions. Their direction of travel led generally downwards and his paranoia began to increase with every step. "Uh, excuse me...but are you sure this is the best way out? I mean, where exactly are we going?" The girl didn't turn round but kept moving as she answered. "This passageway will bring us out in the cellars of the chapel in front of the castle. The others will still be searching the castle. This way should be safe, for now". Swindelli pondered her answer. He didn't like the sound of "should be safe". Still, if she was leading him into a trap, she would probably have ignored him or at least attempted to reassure him. As it was, her response sounded pretty reasonable. He shrugged and tried to look outwardly calm. He managed to maintain that facade until the girl opened the cellar door and they stepped into the chapel's relatively bright interior. "Vell, Vell, Vell...vhat do ve haff here?" said a dry humourless voice from somewhere above them. Swindelli reflexively sheathed his sword, holstered his gun and reached for the pair of chest-holstered hand crossbows under his jacket, while the girl froze in place. "Come now Emilia, vhy don't you introduce me to your new...friend" said the figure now slowly descending in front of them. Unsurprisingly, it was another vampire. This one was considerably older than the others Swindelli had seen so far. Emilia remained silent. "Tsk...so rude", said the newcomer as he touched down just a few feet in front of them. "Vell, since Emilia seems so reticent, I suppose I must introduce myself...a victim should know his killer, after all, eh?". He smiled evilly, "I am Count Ferdinand von Wolfenstein. I haff been looking forvard to meeting you". Swindelli tried to look unconcerned but inwardly groaned. This creep was obviously the Countess's husband...mate...partner - whatever the vampire term was. "Oh yeah? Well Count, your ass is grass and I'm John Deere", he said, remembering a line used by one of his friends on an internet message board he frequented. The Count's voice took on a more unpleasant tone. "Do not lie to me! I know you are ze infamous Ricardo Swindelli...murderer of my people!" he said, missing the wisecrack completely. He stalked towards Swindelli, his hands raised. Ricardo tried to raise his arms to fire the crossbows but found himself unable to move. He had made the mistake of eyeballing the Count and had become hypnotised. He felt the will to resist draining away and he suddenly felt compelled to do whatever the old vamp told him to do. Emilia saw what was happening and rushed in between the two of them, breaking the eye contact between them. The Count roughly shoved her out of the way. "Meddling brat!" he cried, "I shall deal with you later!" A moment was all Swindelli needed. Suddenly freed from the trance, Ricardo raised his arms and fired both crossbows at nearly point blank range into the Count's chest. The pair of silver-tipped bolts found their mark. The Count stopped as though he'd hit a brick wall and sank to his knees. His chest burst into flames where the darts had hit him and quickly engulfed him. Ricardo's eyes widened in shock as he stared at the Count and then at his crossbows. He hadn't known they were supposed to do that! Not that he was complaining. He made a mental note to have a word with the gun store owner when he got back, to see if he could get a discount on a bulk order of those bolts. The Count shrieked and rolled on the floor, reaching out to grab Emilia. She screamed as a claw-like hand clamped round her ankle, igniting the hem of her dress. Instinctively Swindelli leapt over the burning vampire and pulled her away. He kicked out at the Count's rapidly withering hand and it snapped off at the wrist. Guiding her further away he helped her put her smouldering gown out. Somehow, the pair of them ended up sitting on a pew, Emilia on Ricardo's lap with her head resting on his shoulder, while he held her protectively. After a few moments she sat up and stared into his face. Completely forgetting his earlier episode with the Count, Swindelli looked into her pale blue eyes, once again hypnotised, but this time in a completely different way.

VII: Where There's a Vamp, There's a Stake...

Swindelli blinked, breaking the spell and the pair of them got awkwardly to their feet, embarrassed and tongue-tied. "Um...we really should get out of here before your folks come looking for us. Uh...thanks for saving my life, by the way". He turned away and ran his hands through his unruly mop of hair, clearing his throat while he sought for something to say. "It, uh, feels really weird, saying that to a...uh..." He trailed off, wanting to say something sensitive, but not trusting himself not to blurt out something stupid instead. Emilia stared at the floor. "Zey are not my 'folks'. I suppose I should thank you in return for saving me. I am curious though...vhy did you do it? Vhy vould a slayer save a vampire", she asked, an expression of pure puzzlement on her face. It was Ricardo's turn to look at the floor. "Well...um...I guess its because you haven't tried to kill me yet. You agreed to help me get out of the castle and you saved my butt back there when the Count gave me the evil eye". Emilia looked a little disappointed. "Is zat all?" Swindelli looked even more uncomfortable. "Well...I...hang on a minute", he stuttered, grateful for a chance to change the subject, "Why have you been helping me?" Emilia glanced back at the pile of ashes that had been Count Ferdinand. "Because you did not deserve to die...at least not like that". "Well, whatever the reason, I'm grateful to you". Risking another glance at her, she suddenly seemed small and vulnerable to him and he had a sudden urge to put his arms round her... He was relieved when a sudden dull glint of metal caught his eye, taking his attention away from Emilia. In a dark, cobweb-covered corner of the chapel were several very old-looking wooden chests, with brass hinges and locks, which reflected the flickering torchlight. Temporarily forgetting their imminent peril, he strode over to them. "Well, lookee here...this little adventure might not be a total bust after all!". "Please, zis is no time for treasure hunting", Emilia pleaded, looking anxiously at the cellar door behind them. "Ze others vill be here at any moment!". Ignoring her, Swindelli managed to break off the hasps holding the padlocks in place with a few well-aimed blows from a heavy cast-iron candle snuffer he'd found leaning against the wall. Opening the lids, his face was bathed in a soft golden glow from within. "Paydirt!" he exclaimed softly. Inside was a veritable treasure trove. Manuscripts, jewellery, finely crafted ornaments in gold and silver, as well as some interesting-looking occult artefacts. He could probably flog the less valuable/interesting ones to a local dealer back home or some sad Buffy fan on Ebay. Emilia came over to see what he'd found. As she leaned over, her face and hair took on a golden hue. Ricardo glanced over at her and his heart skipped a beat. Instead of being merely beautiful, she now looked almost angelic. His stomach knotted and his mouth felt dry. Is this what being in love feels like?, he wondered. His gaze involuntarily moved down to her gilt-tinted cleavage, which was threatening to spill out of her dress. Stop it, stop it right now! he mentally scolded himself. Keep your mind on the mission...which is to bag yourself a nice stash of loot and get outta here in one piece!. He screwed his eyes shut and shook his head to clear away the image of Emilia's bosom. He pulled a couple of heavy-duty swag bags from his rucksack and started filling them with the items he judged to be the most valuable. He hadn't quite finished, when they heard the sound of movement behind the cellar door. Emilia grabbed his arm. "Come on - ve must go...NOW!". Ricardo took one last longing glance at the treasure chests before following her.

IX: Fight or Flight

As he opened the chapel's heavy oak main doors he stopped cold. Arrayed round the entrance were the remaining vampires. Most of them bore the scars of earlier run-ins with Swindelli and all of them looked extremely angry. Swindelli slammed the door shut and hastily dropped the heavy oak beam across the large iron brackets, designed to withstand battering rams when the castle had come under attack in medieval times. "Okay - I guess the front door's out!" he panted. They ran to the back of the chapel and into the vestry. Set into the floor was the trapdoor that led to the tunnel back to the castle. Just as they got there, the trapdoor opened and a vamp poked his head out. Swindelli drew his flechette gun and fired off the remaining ammo. The vamp howled in agony and fell back into the tunnel. Emilia slammed the trapdoor shut and dragged a heavy mahogany lectern over it. They tried the small back door set into the stonework at the rear of the building but found it was locked. A frantic search for a key proved fruitless. All the while the banging from the front door and trapdoor got louder. There was a loud crash from the front door and a splintering sound. One of the iron brackets was coming away from the frame...it wouldn't be long before they broke though. Thinking furiously, Swindelli remembered the lightning conductor fixed to the roof. He calculated relative positions and angles, taking into account where they stood at the moment. Drawing his trusty 12-gauge shotgun, he whispered a brief apology. "Lord, I really hate doing this to such beautiful architecture - especially a place of worship, but we're in kind of a tight spot here", he said before pumping half a dozen rounds into the roof. The ancient slate tiles and lead flashing disintegrated under the barrage, leaving a gaping hole in the roof several feet wide. Stashing the shotgun back into his shoulder holster, he fished in his rucksack for his grapnel gun. Taking careful aim at the lightning conductor he squeezed the trigger...and nothing happened. Cursing, he tried again...and again. Examining the device he found the wire release mechanism had somehow become damaged. He was about to let off a stream of foul imprecations that had no place in a house of God, when Emilia came over to him. "Put your arms around me", she said, her arms outstretched. "What?" "Just hold me!" "Look - you're a great looking girl and I really like you, but this is hardly the time to get romantic!" Emilia tutted and gave an exasperated sigh. She grabbed him round the waist and held him tightly. Swindelli was about to try and wriggle free when suddenly he found himself ten feet off the floor and rising rapidly. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms round Emilia as tightly as possible. When he opened his eyes again they were standing on the chapel roof with the cold night air blowing through their hair. He slowly...and somewhat reluctantly released his grip on Emilia. "You certainly haff a strong grip...just as vell I don't need to breathe", she smirked. "Uh...you didn't say you'd mastered the art of levitation...". "You didn't ask". "So, how long have you been able to do it?" It was Emilia's turn to look embarrassed. "Zat is actually ze first time I haff managed to do it properly", she admitted. Swindelli's knees gave way and he sank on to the roof with a groan. He suddenly felt slightly nauseous. He looked up at Emila, amazed at the sudden change in her personality. She'd gone from depressed and apparently suicidal to confident and assertive in a remarkably short space of time. She gazed down at him and smiled. Damn - even with fangs she's cute! he thought. "Vell, I can always take you back down, if you don't like it up here", she teased.

X: Burn Baby, Burn

Just then there was a crash as the front door finally gave way and the vampires piled in. it didn't take long for them to spot the hole in the roof and figure out their prey's escape route. Swindelli dug around in his rucksack and found the other jar grenade. He handed it to Emilia. "Keep them busy for a few minutes and when I give the signal, twist the lid, count to three and drop it, okay?" Emilia looked from the jar to Ricardo in confusion, "Vhat is zis?" "Good old Texas napalm. Trust me - I know what I'm doing" She nodded but didn't look totally convinced. Just at that moment, the first of the vampires came flying up. As his head emerged through the roof, Emilia aimed a vicious kick at him, catching him squarely in the face. The vamp yelped and fell backwards, clutching his face. Meanwhile, Swindelli tied a rope round the lightning conductor and rapidly abseiled down the side of the chapel. Untying himself, he sprinted for the nearby car park, rooting in his pockets for his hot-wiring kit, until he saw something even better. There was a delivery truck parked by the castle's trade entrance, with the engine running and the cab open. The driver was several yards away, knocking on the door. Changing direction in mid-stride, he angled for the truck and leapt into the cab. Ignoring the outraged yells of the driver, he floored the accelerator and with the wheels spinning on the gravel road, he lurched away from the castle and headed for the chapel. Swerving and skidding, he somehow managed to reach the chapel without an accident. Slamming the truck into reverse, he backed it up to the shattered front door, sealing off the entrance. Pulling the keys out of the ignition, he scrambled up onto the cab and then onto the cargo compartment, just in time to see Emilia backing away from a group of vamps who were slowly advancing on her. Drawing his .44 Magnum revolver, he yelled, "Hey, creeps - over here!" As one, they turned to look at him. Taking careful aim, he methodically fired a single shot at each of them. The hollow-point, silver nitride filled rounds penetrated their chests and exploded in spectacularly messy fashion. He'd disposed of four in this way before the remaining two remembered the old adage that a moving target is harder to hit and took to the air. One dove straight for him. Ricardo threw himself flat on the truck, causing the vamp to miss him by inches. Scrambling to his feet again, he waved frantically at Emilia. "Now! Do it now!" he called, pointing at the hole in the roof. Emilia nodded understanding, carefully picked her way across to the edge of the hole, twisted the jar lid, counted to three and hurled it into the crowd of vampires gathered below. As before, the jar detonated on contact with the floor, sending burning phosphorous, silver vapour and glass shards flying everywhere. In less than a minute most of them were on fire. Some ran around screaming and some rolled on the floor trying to put the flames out. Others tried to fly out of the shattered roof but were unable to concentrate to summon the power of levitation. Eventually some began looking for a way out, only to find all the exits blocked. As the flames began to spread, the interior of the chapel became an inferno. It was a pretty nasty end all things considered. Swindelli was about to call to Emilia to get down when one of the airborne vamps made another pass at him. Caught by surprise he could offer little resistance as he was grabbed by his rucksack and lifted off the truck roof. However, the combined weight of Ricardo and his backpack were too much for the vampire and they both plunged to earth, landing in a tangle of limbs and spilled gear. Swindelli yelped and cursed as he landed awkwardly and twisted his ankle. It didn't help matters that the vamp landed heavily on top of him, winding him in the process. Reaching inside his jacket he pulled out a stake just as the vamp made a lunge for his neck. Twisting his head out of the way he rammed the stake upwards into the vampire's chest. This one also screamed and exploded in a shower of dust and once again Swindelli got covered in ex vampire. Spitting and cursing he rolled onto his stomach. "Jeez...how can the same shit happen to the same guy twice?" he groaned. "You'd think they'd at least die consistently". Back up on the chapel roof, Emilia stooped to snatch up a loose tile and hurled it at the remaining vampire as he leapt across the gaping hole at her. Flames were now beginning to play around the edges. The heavy slate slab caught him squarely in the chest, halting him in mid-leap. He fell though the hole into the raging flames below with a scream. Seeing Swindelli lying prone on the ground, she flew to the ground, landing somewhat awkwardly herself. "Are you okay?" she asked, kneeling beside him. "I guess I'll live" he managed. "If you could just help me get my stuff together..." They salvaged as much of the rucksack's spilt contents as possible and sat watching the chapel, now burning brightly and outlined in orange against the black night sky. "So...vhat now?" Emilia asked, staring at him intently. "Now we get the hell out of here before the police show up. This is the one time when being in the middle of nowhere is actually a good thing". He rummaged in the rucksack. "I think I've still got my train and air tickets in here somewhere. If I can make the train to Cologne, I'll be on the first flight back to the good ol' US of A and home sweet home". Emilia helped him to his feet and they made their way over to the truck. Swindelli had lost the keys when the vampire had tried to take off with him and he ended up having to hot-wire it anyway. His gimped ankle made it painful to operate the pedals, but he gritted his teeth and thought of home. They rolled down the long gravel driveway, through the expansive and immaculately landscaped grounds and turned onto the winding country road that would lead them back to the city. As they left the castle behind, Ricardo finally began to relax a little. He found his thoughts turning to Emilia. "So, what about you?" he asked. "What will you do now?" "I don't know...zere is nothing for me here now. I doubt very much any other vampire clans vill take me in after zis. I am condemned to a life of solitude". "I've been meaning to ask...why were you so depressed before and why did old Count Creepenstein seem to have it in for you?" Emilia looked away. "Vhen Count Ferdinand 'made' me, nearly 200 years ago, something vent wrong with the transformation process. Even though I haff most of ze normal vampire faculties, I haff alvays been unable to drink blood...vell, human blood anyway. It makes me violently ill for some reason. I haff to survive by drinking animal blood...cows...sheep...even rats if I'm desperate...and even zat makes me feel sick". She sounded disgusted with herself. "Of course, vhen ze others found out...vell...you can imagine..." Swindelli could indeed imagine. He sat in silence for several moments, mulling over an idea that had been forming in his brain since the fight in the chapel. "You know, I could really use a partner in the business...someone with an in-depth knowledge of vampires and the occult in general...someone I can really trust. How would you like to come back with me?" Emilia turned to stare at him, her eyes shining with hope for a moment, before clouding over. "Just as a partner?" Swindelli's discomfort level grew again. "Uh...well...as a really good friend too..." "Is that all?" she asked, turning away again and staring at the road ahead. Swindelli took a deep breath and uttered the words that a herd of wild horses would have been unable to drag from him under any other circumstances. "No...I want you to come with me because...I think I'm falling in love with you", he managed, stumbling over his words and going a deep shade of red in the process. He was nearly knocked out of his seat as Emilia threw her arms around him and squeezed him tightly. "Steady on Em...unlike you I do need to breathe", he wheezed. The drive to Dusseldorf was uneventful. The hour was late and traffic was light. The train station was similarly empty. He left the truck parked without paying for a ticket, though he did have to use some of his remainng funds to pay Emilia's rail fare. The pair spent a half hour in the station cafeteria, talking in excited whispers about what they would do once they were home. On the journey to Cologne, Swindelli finally allowed himself to savour the feeling of satisfaction of a job well done, with Emilia snuggled up to him and a nice stash of booty in his rucksack helping to dull the pain of his injured foot. Once in Cologne, he had to pay a visit to one of his network of "dealers". In this line of work you often came across extremely valuable artifacts, paintings jewellery and other items that would attract unwanted attention from customs officers. However, you could always find people willing to pay cash and not ask questions for the right kind of "merchandise". He was able to strike a lucrative bargain for the gems, gold and silverware he'd looted from Castle Wolfenstein and arranged for the funds to be wired to his account. The manuscripts and occult artifacts he decided to keep. They could have a value that went way beyond mere money and in any case, Customs only tended to be interested in drugs, firearms, jewellery, artwork, or known banned materials like ivory. The items in his haul looked relatively innocuous and ought to pass scrutiny. On the flight home he was finally able to get some much needed rest as they both relaxed in the luxury of business class, ignoring the curious stares of their fellow passengers. With his immediate future looking bright, he slipped his patented Doug Adams shades over his eyes and settled down for a nap... THE END