The half moon had risen high in the sky by the time Zac reached the gates of the manor. It had taken an hour before he could drag himself to his feet, his spine healing enough to restore feeling to his broken legs. Limping all the way from town to the house on the outskirts was a seven-mile journey and he fumed all the way, anger filling each step. He could’ve run, but he wanted time to think about the revenge he would have on Alistair before Sam could talk him out of it.

His thoughts travelled to memories of the many fights he had gotten into with fellow soldiers, conscripts and volunteers alike, when he was in the army. He'd given his fair share of black eyes and bloody noses and received just as many, but fighting as a vampire was a different experience altogether. His ability for healing made for more painful injuries. Gashes, broken bones, pulverized flesh, internal bleeding. Painful, but irrelevant. His body would heal all but a severed head and a torn out heart, among other things.

He trudged up the driveway to the manor, feet dragging in the dirt. The house that they had once lived in as children and young men and had been the location of so much death. They had reclaimed it from disrepair and despair alike, spending much time and money renovating and restoring the interior. Sam still held the deed as he was more responsible with those things, and with little effort they could claim to be the rightful owners. Despite all of this, the grounds and the house were of historical significance, so as they wanted to do things by the book, they were unable to do much to the exterior. Two vampires who never locked their door couldn't argue with the fact that the house didn't look lived in because of this. It kept visitors away, along with the locked gate.

Zac slammed the front door closed behind him and barged into the parlor, throwing down his jacket moodily, glaring at his brother who gave him a familiar look of disapproval.

The parlor was where the action was. It was also where Zac kept the alcohol, so they tended to gravitate here because of it. Right now, he needed alcohol…lots of alcohol. His clothing was covered in dirt, mud caked into the knees of his jeans. All glaring signs pointing to what he'd been up to all night.

Sam eyed him up and down. “What happened to you?”

“What do you think happened?” He sneered, pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace, seething. The walk had done nothing but fuel his anger into a burning inferno.

Sam sighed and placed his head in his hands, knowing that Alistair had beaten him up. They had a nice peaceful life for the past year. It shouldn't come as a surprise that it was now ending. It was part of being a vampire, getting into trouble.

“I'm not going to let that bastard get away with it,” Zac raged, waving a finger wildly at Sam.

“We can't afford any trouble, Zac. If anyone found out who we really are…”

“Yeah, yeah.” Zac waved him off. “He broke both my legs and my spine. I want to beat the crap out of the bastard and stake him to a tree.”

“Did you even try and talk reasonably with him?”

“He came there looking for a fight, I didn't have to do anything. It's down to him or us. And I'd rather it be us,” he said pointedly. Zac couldn't begin to understand himself most days, let alone vampire politics. He supposed he'd become a little mad as well once he hit five hundred. Couldn't wait for that.

“What do you suggest?” he asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

“The only option there is,” Zac said, deadly serious. “We kill him.”

“What's this we business?” Sam scoffed. “So we kill him and then what happens when his friends come looking?”

Zac stared his brother down. “Next time I won't look away.”

Liz wiped her brow, grimacing. That was the billionth time she'd dropped coffee grounds all over the floor. Distracted wasn't the right word for it, off the planet was closer to the truth. Ever since being threatened by the local werewolves, she’d been skittish. Sam had dropped her off at work that morning before going to the gardens across the street with Alex. Gabby was coming to get her soon, so she wouldn't be alone if there was trouble. It was silly, as a vampire she should be able to take care of herself, but it was something she’d struggled with since day one. She was too kind-hearted, which contradicted everything she’d become.

Working at the coffeehouse was not the most glamorous job in the world, but it was something to take her mind off the fact that she was A; a vampire and B; a vampire who was undecided if she was going to college or not in the spring. At twenty-one it was later than most, but last year she'd had to defer because she was busy learning how to control her bloodlust. The year before was spent working full time at the same job making coffee, earning money for tuition. Her family thought she was just ill, with a little help from some vampire persuasion.

Liz had spent the entire day worrying about the werewolves. So much so, that she kept dropping things and messing up orders. Mixing up caffeinated with decaf, cream, and non-fat. There would be a lot of people hyped up today. The last thing she needed was for one of the wolves to come into the café and she might not be able to explain herself if they did. Mrs Greene, the owner had asked her if anything was wrong. Most of the staff asked her if she was okay and even some of the regular customers. She had to get a handle on it.

She was cleaning the coffee machine as Gabby opened the front door, the bell ringing merrily. They'd closed for the day already, but everyone knew her friend, so they didn't mind that she ignored the closed sign and barged right in.

“Are you ready yet?” she asked, grinning. “I'm starving.”

“It's only 5 o'clock!”

“Yeah, but I had to skip lunch today. My stomach is eating itself I'm so hungry.”

Giving the bench a final wipe, Liz waved to Mrs Greene and they made their way along the three blocks to Max's bar, laughing about her uncoordinated day.

It was great to catch up with her friend; it had been ages since they had the time for dinner. She didn't need the food, but it was still nice to indulge in something human. Nothing bad would happen to her from eating a burger and fries, she'd just get no sustenance from it.

They’d just sat down when Gabby said, “Aw, crap.”

“What's wrong?” Liz asked, turning towards the door and catching sight of a blonde man she suspected was a vampire.

“That's Alistair,” she replied evenly. “He's the one who threatened Zac.”

“Oh.” Liz bit her lip, frowning. Sam had warned her about him that morning when he'd picked her up at home. The fact that he was lurking about must have been the reason the werewolves were absent. The thought made her blood run cold.

The vampire caught her eye and she looked away quickly, glancing at Gabby, wondering if she should text Sam. Before she could decide, the vampire slid into the booth beside Liz, trapping her against the wall. Gabby eyed him uncomfortably, steeling herself for whatever stunt he was about to pull.

“Ladies,” he said. “I believe you know who I am.”

“Alistair.” Gabby grimaced. She was not in the mood for games, especially the games of vampires.

“You're the witch.” He pointed at her before turning to Liz. “And you must be the newborn.”

Liz couldn't help shuddering as his cold eyes raked over her body.

“What do you want, Alistair?” Gabby asked firmly, her strong brown eyes staring down the five-hundred year old vampire.

“I'm just coming to examine my prize.” He put his arm around Liz's shoulder, grinning at her. “When I'm finished with that annoying Zachary and his brother, you and I will have some fun.”

“Unlikely,” Liz spat at him, trying to shrug his arm away.

“I can show you things you’ve never dreamed of.”

“Back off, Alistair.” Gabby's eyes narrowed in warning as Liz slid away from him as far as she could get, which wasn't very far at all. The wall was hard on her back, trapping her against him.

“Oh, my dear,” he said silkily, leaning closer to Liz. “I will have you at least once before I'm through.” He slid his hand up her leg, coming to rest on her upper thigh. Her body stiffened at his touch, making her shudder in revulsion.

She glared at the vampire and snarled, “Get your hand off me, or I'll...”

“Or you'll what?” Alistair's grip hardened on her thigh, his fingers beginning to bruise her.

Liz stared him down, refusing to betray her fear at the sudden malicious gesture. She wouldn't be the damsel in distress. Suddenly, Alistair grasped his head, grimacing in pain, his fist banging against the table top in frustration. Gabby was scowling at him, deep in concentration, eyes narrowed.

“Argh,” he growled, his voice betraying the pain that was exploding in his head. “Alright, alright. You've got this round, witch.”

Gabby relaxed and Alistair gripped the table, his knuckles white, glaring at the witch in front of him. “Leave,” she said. “You have no claim here, vampire. Leave before it's too late for you.”

The vampire laughed then, as if he knew Gabby was bluffing. Her expression was darkness, but Liz knew that her power was limited and no match for a five-hundred year old vampire. What she’d just done, that was the extent of what she’d learnt to protect herself.

Alistair rose from the booth and bowed to them mockingly. “Next time we meet, I'll make sure the tables are turned.”

They didn't tear their eyes from him until he'd exited the bar. Shit, shit, shit, thought Liz. Old as vampires who wanted in her pants and werewolves hell bent on harassing her out of town? How much more complicated could life get? Reluctantly she said, “Perhaps you should call Zac and let him know.”

Gabby shook her head. “Not right away, lets just enjoy our food first. He won't be back tonight. We need this, and I won't let that jerk ruin our night.”

Liz smiled, understanding her friend’s sentiment. “Lets do it.”

Zac had thought about the many ways he could kill Alistair all through the next day. He was thankful Sam had gone to work; the constant badgering about his intentions would have pushed him over the edge. This was one thing he wouldn't be talked out of. His train of thought was broken as his cell began to vibrate across the coffee table.

“Gabby,” he said sharply as he answered it.

“Zac, Liz and I were just confronted by Alistair,” came her concerned voice. “I was able to fend him off, but he'll be back.”

“Where are you?”

“We're outside Max's.”

“Go home,” he snapped. “I will deal with Alistair.”

“Zac.” Gabby sounded worried.

“Just go home, Gabby.” He hung up on her. Alistair had gone too far.

Soon enough he found the offending vampire leaning up against the facade of Max's, arms crossed, waiting for him. Zac strode up to Alistair and grabbed the front of his shirt roughly, pulling him close. “That was a low blow Al,” he hissed.

“I can go lower, if that's what you really want.” He sneered, pushing Zac off him.

“I don't know why you insist on all this when none of us know anything about your girlfriend.”

“Oh, but I'm well aware you don't know anything. Making your life difficult is much more entertaining.” The older vampire smirked, satisfied with the over the top reaction he had received in greeting. “I could go for full exposure. Not everyone in this town has forgotten the real reason behind the massacre at the Degaud Manor. How would you like that?”

Zac grabbed the front of Alistair's shirt again, wrenching him close. “This ends here.”

“Are you challenging me to a duel?” Alastair laughed, obviously assured that he would be the victor no matter what.

Zac stifled his own mocking laughter. “It's the twenty-first century, Al you old bastard. I had more of a fight to the death in mind, not pistols at twenty paces.”

As he saw it, the only option he had was to kill the vampire and that was going to be problematic. Alistair wouldn't let his guard down for an instant or stray from populated areas. He knew Zac would attempt bodily harm given the slightest opportunity. A fight to the death was the only option he would consider and was banking that the other vampire's arrogance would be his downfall. There was no way he would win on strength alone; there was close to four hundred years between them. If he was to actually kill him, a challenge of this magnitude outside of town was the only way.

Alistair's eyes brightened. “A fight to the death. No rules, only death for the loser.”

Zac pushed him back, dropping his grip from his shirt. He wouldn't play mind games with this guy, no matter what he threatened to do. If he won, then Alistair would be gone for good and if he lost, well, he'd be dead. He could think of worse things.

“In the woods by the manor,” Zac said. “Two hours. And come alone.” He knew he couldn't rely on Sam. His brother didn't agree with his tactics almost one hundred percent of the time. And a death match? Well, that one took the cake. This he had to do on his own.

Tucking a wooden stake in the back of his jeans, Zac made his way through the forest. Moonlight filtered through the trees, casting long eerie shadows that distorted the ground ahead. The two hours had passed and he hoped he was going to his victory, not his death.

The older vampire was standing so still, he almost mistook him for another shadow. Alistair's soft chuckle cut through the silence. “Are you ready to die, Zachary?”

“Quit the small talk, Al. Lets get on with it,” he said, chomping at the bit to draw blood.

Alistair pulled a gun from behind, which had been hidden under his jacket. Pointing at Zac's thigh, he squeezed the trigger, the bullet tearing through flesh and splattering blood as it made contact. The force of the close range impact knocked Zac from his feet and he landed heavily on his back, grimacing in pain, clutching his leg.

“Wow,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Talk about bringing a sword to a gunfight. You're a piece of work, Al. Where'd you get the wooden bullets? From ye olde carpenter shoppe? How long did it take you to whittle those you old bastard?”

Alistair laughed, clearly not put off by his sarcastic observations. ”I'm not one for these devices.” He tucked the gun into the back of his pants. “Call me old fashioned, but I like to use my hands. That way I can feel the life bleed from you when I tear your heart from your chest.”

Zac grimaced as he dug his fingers into his torn flesh and pulled the bullet out. Throwing it aside, his eyes darkened to black as he lunged for Alistair, knocking him to the ground with a roar. The stake was in his hand, but the older vampire grabbed his wrist before he could bring it down into his heart. There was a crack as the bone broke under the pressure. Grimacing in pain, he dropped the stake as Alistair threw him to the side with enough force to crash him into a tree.

Landing with a thud, Zac was on his feet in a flash, ignoring the pain in his broken wrist. He'd had worse and was still able to fight. Alistair was on him before he could react, the older vampire’s strength overpowering as he shoved him back against the tree trunk, a forearm crushing his neck, almost cutting off his airway. Twisting to the side, Zac managed to free himself, Alistair's arm crushing into the tree, the bark splintering under the force.

“Stop playing with your food, Al.” He darted behind him, grasping his left arm, wrenching backwards until it broke.

Alistair roared in anger as much as pain and grabbed Zac around the neck again before he could escape. Zac tried to struggle out of the headlock, but this time, the other vampire’s grip didn't budge.

“Oh, I like it when they struggle,” he chortled as he tightened his grip around Zac's neck, landing punch after punch into his unprotected face. Breaking his nose and splitting his lip, blood pouring out of the multiple gashes that were opening up with every impact.

Gasping for breath, he eyed the gun that had fallen onto the ground a mere four feet to the right. If he could loosen Alistair's grip and free himself, he might have a chance to slow him down with a few bullets before staking him. Struggling, he managed to kick sideways, his shin connecting with Alistair's leg, buckling his knee and making him stumble.

As the grip slackened from around his neck, he managed to lunge to the right and snatch up the gun before Alistair could kick it out of reach. Without hesitation, Zac fired, a bullet imbedding itself into the older vampire's stomach. It wasn't enough to knock him to the ground, but he doubled over, clutching his bleeding abdomen in surprise. It was the millionth of a second that Zac needed to stab upwards, the stake hitting its mark with a sickening thud as it tore through flesh and sinew until it rammed home into Alistair's heart.

“You were stronger, Alistair, but not smarter,” Zac said with a sneer as the life drained from the vampire’s eyes. Alistair choked, gasping for air and was finally still. Zac pushed him backwards onto the ground, dead. Grimacing, he held his broken wrist and spat the blood that had pooled in his cut mouth onto his desiccated body. “Good riddance.”

Turning away from the body, he jumped in surprise as he saw a woman emerge from the surrounding forest. She approached calmly, hands clasped in front of her, expression cold. Zac frowned as he took in her dress; it was something like ancient Roman women would’ve worn. Long white folds of silk hung low over her shoulders, draping to the ground, cinched at the hips by a low golden belt. Long auburn hair had been pinned up in elaborate braids, a few curls left out to frame her cold face. Zac automatically knew not to make fun of her appearance.

“And who the fuck are you?” he asked when she came to rest a few paces away.

The woman cocked her head, glaring. “I am the founding witch Katrin and you've just murdered one of my most beloved creations.”

Just what he needed, a witch in fancy dress. “And what are you going to do? Cast some witchy juju spell on me?” Before she could answer, Zac threw the stake at her with alarming speed, but as it made contact she vanished, the stake imbedding itself in the tree behind the spot she had stood.

“You will suffer vampire, for the murder of your own kind.” He jumped as Katrin's voice came from behind. “I will enjoy hunting you and all those you love, inflicting pain the likes of which you cannot imagine.”

Zac whirled around to face the witch, who’d materialized behind him. “If you could kill me, you would’ve already done it.” He waved his hand towards her and her form shimmered where it passed through. “You're transparent, so I'd like to see you try.”

She laughed, filling the surrounding forest with her musical voice. “I'm going to enjoy watching you writhe in agony.”

Gasping, he clutched his chest at the sudden pain that tore through his heart. Falling to his knees he tried to take even breaths, but couldn't draw any oxygen, his airway closing in on itself. Just as suddenly as the pain overtook him, it was gone.

“That,” Katrin crooned, “was a precursor, vampire. We will meet again, you and I.”

When he looked up, he was alone except for Alistair's cold dead corpse. Wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand, Zac groaned as he began to drag what was left of the vampire away. The witch had disappeared, but had left the heavy promise of retribution behind.

If Zac thought he was in trouble before, he was well and truly screwed now.