Max kicked out the ashes of their small fire frantically. He had made sure it was just large enough to cook quickly. Miranda had prepped the meat into strips perfect for drying out over the fire. It was a hasty job and the meat wouldn't keep long, but that was okay. They were going to eat most of it by tomorrow afternoon anyway. He then covered the ashes with dirt, hoping to lower the chances Verick would find it.

  Max rubbed his chest where the deer had kicked him. That's going to bruise, but it was still easier than the fight with Dorin. The thought sent a shock down his spine. The man’s face came forward in his mind. He clenched his fists.

  “Max?” Miranda called from a few feet away. She had already started down a small stream they had decided to follow. They thought about backtracking towards the cave but found heavy boot prints all over that bit of the woods, leaving the creek bed as the only option forward. Max took a deep breath and let it out slowly, letting the vision go.

  “Coming,” he said briskly. He gathered the dried meat, rewrapped it in new leaves, and headed out.

  Max joined Miranda at the stream, dismissing her concerned glance. He didn't need her to start thinking he was weak again. She had just started respecting him, sort of. Slowly, they made their way down the winding stream due east. Max wanted to put some distance behind them. They had already dawdled too long, and he was getting worried that Verick would close in.

  The further they traveled, the older the trees got. Rocks started jutting from the ground; they even passed the occasional boulder or two. We are getting closer to the mountains.

  It was lucky they found this creek bed to follow; every other direction in these bits of woods was thick with new growth and dense pine trees. The increasing frequency of the rocks made it even harder to traverse away from the water. Eventually, the traversing was so bad the little creek bed was no longer a path, but a corridor. The hairs on the back of Max’s neck prickled like he was being watched. He stopped and scanned the forest. Nothing.

  “Max,” Miranda said from up ahead. “I think it clears out up here.”

  Sure enough, it did. Just another fifty feet and the stream dropped suddenly into a miniature waterfall. This fed under a waterlogged clearing with a singular stone building. And next to the building—a road!

  “We must be close!” Max said enthusiastically. Even as a farmer who favored the solitude of his land, he couldn't wait for civilization.

  The two weary and excited travelers climbed down the rocks and into the clearing. The ground sucked on Max’s boots with a shlunk as he crossed the damp grass. Mosquitoes found him instantly and began their feast on his neck. Miranda wasn't faring much better as she took long strides through the mud and kept slapping her neck.

  The hairs on Max’s neck prickled again, and he stopped suddenly. The background noise of the forest went silent all at once. Like a predator stalking through the trees. Even Miranda appeared to notice something was wrong as she scanned the treeline.

  “We’re not alone,” she said softly, her eyes flashing blue for a quick moment. “Come, we should press on.”

  “Agreed,” Max replied as they quickened their pace towards the road. The most direct path there took them past the building. As they neared the stone structure, it dawned on Max what it was. A guard tower. It was tall and ancient with evidence of hasty repairs. Wooden planks covered most of the windows, the flagpole was broken in half, and the solid oak door that led inside was ajar. Max stopped in his tracks. The door had several long claw marks that cut deep into the wood. Fresh blood soaked into the old oak.

  “Max, we should really get go—” Miranda cut herself off and looked into the air with those glowing blue eyes. She swiveled her head back and forth to the treeline, slowly walking backwards towards Max. He was about to ask her what it was that frightened her when her whole body went rigid. “Duck!”

  Max hit the dirt a second after she did.

  Thud. Thud. Thud.

  In rapid succession, three arrows planted themselves into the oak door just feet behind Miranda. If she hadn't sensed them coming, she most certainly would have been dead. Verick! Now that Max was aware of the danger, he thought he heard the terrible, familiar twang of bowstrings in the distance.

  “Run! Inside!” Miranda screamed and rolled, her eyes returning to normal. This time the arrows were meant for Max. Just as he stood, three more flew past his body, one nicking his arm. Damn! Blood sprayed onto the grass as he clutched his wound and followed Miranda toward the tower.

  Miranda pulled a stone from her pouch, whispered a word then tossed it behind her. “Close your eyes!”

  The moment after Max slammed his eyelids shut a brilliant bright white light exploded just a foot behind him. The effect worked however as one more arrow flew wide past him. The rock behind him made a fizzeling noise before it detonated in the grass, shards of rocks ripping at his pantlegs.

  Miranda dashed inside, Max a fraction of a second behind her. They spun around as soon as they were past the door and, using both their strength, shoved the oak door closed. A split second later… Thud. Thud. Thud. Miranda ducked under the nearest window. Max followed her, clutching his arm.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  The immediate room inside the stone tower was musty and stale. Dust lingered in the air, highlighted by the rays of sun coming through broken shutters. The room was bare except for a table, a meal half-eaten. Max's stomach turned as the scene reminded him of the corrupted farmhouse they had encountered. Only this time, the air didn't stink of rot.

  “You should cover that up, quickly before he descends into the field,” Miranda said, pointing to Max’s arm. He looked down and was surprised to see his wound was now bleeding heavily down his arm. He went to rip a piece off his tunic when Miranda's hand stopped him. “No offense, but you are filthy. Find something else.”

  Max looked himself over and was glad Miranda stopped him. His tunic was covered in days of mud, ash, rot, and blood. If he had used it to bandage his wound, he would most certainly get an infection. Cautiously he rose, careful to stay out of the way of any vulnerable windows. He made his way to the abandoned table.

  Besides the half-eaten dinner, there were a few cloths, most likely used as napkins, and a leather pouch. Max quickly grabbed a dusty cloth and, after shaking it out, he wrapped it tightly around his arm. Satisfied with the bandage, he stowed another bit of cloth in his waistband and picked up the leather pouch.

  It was heavy. Max shifted its weight and loosened the drawstrings. Inside the leather pouch was… Money! Max dumped it onto the table and quickly glanced over the various currencies. Between the gold, silver, and copper pieces, there had to have been at least a craftsman's monthly salary in the pouch.

  Miranda slinked over to join him, never fully taking her eyes off the window.

  “What is it?” she asked, periodically shifting her head to view the outside better.

  “It’s money. Gold, silver, and copper pieces. Don't you have money?”

  “Yes, but not just random bits of smashed metal,” she said, gesturing to the pieces like they were some archaic artifact. “We use bank notes.”

  “Bank notes?”

  “We don't use them a lot. Just when dealing with large purchases, treaties, or settling debts,” Miranda explained, tossing the coins back into the pouch. She paced over to the window and peered outside, her hand drifting towards her dagger. “Each note is backed by raw materials or gold in the…”

  “Miranda?” Max asked, gathering the rest of the coins into the pouch. “What's going on?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, we gave Verick the slip at the farmhouse, then he just disappeared.” The nagging feeling that prickled Max’s neck started up again. “There were so many times I thought we were certainly going to be dead. But he never came.”

  “He’s smart, Max. Maybe he assumed we could just slip away again so he changed tactics,” Miranda said. The look that crossed her face made Max confident she was noticing the same strange pattern. He’s a hunter who is having trouble finding his prey, so what does a good hunter try next?

  “Right, then we discovered the footsteps on our flank, driving our course through the creek bed,” Max continued. “Now we are here. He tried to pick us off in the clearing but when that didn't work… he gave up again? Where is he?”

  “He’s still out there. I can sense him, right on the treeline; arrow nocked.” Miranda said, closing her eyes to confirm her assertion. “He is just waiting, masking his aura with everything he has. He is most lethal at a distance, not close quarters; he will probably just wait us out. This was most likely his plan since the farmhouse.”

  Max’s mind hung on something Miranda had said. “Why is he masking his aura?”

  “What? Max, I don't know, does it matter? Probably so that we don't—”

  “But we do know he is here, and he knows we know he is here,” Max said, staring Miranda in the eyes. He saw the realization hit her the moment after it hit him. “Who is he hiding from?”

  Thud… Thud… Thud… Thud.

  The sound of footsteps above Max echoed in the small room. Dust shook from the ceiling and drifted to the floor. It took everything in him not to sneeze. He thought his heart stopped; Miranda went pale.

  Thud… Thud… Thud… Thud.

  The footsteps were now descending a flight of stairs. Max and Miranda quickly backed to the far wall, away from the stairs, and drew their daggers.

  “Miranda, who is it?”

  Miranda's face, if it were possible, appeared to get paler. She stammered as if she was trying to speak but no words came out. She whispered a prayer but her divining eyes flickered as her concentration did, Max’s proximity wasn't doing the woman any favors.

  Max started panicking; his breaths came quick, his chest burned hot. He scanned the room for anything that could help him but found nothing but barrels of moldy food, cabinets of dinnerware, and a chest with a small buckler sticking out. Well, better than nothing. He quickly snatched the buckler from the chest and, using what little martial training Gerald had taught him, began strapping it onto his forearm.

  Thud… Thud… Thud… Thud.

  Max’s eyes drifted up towards the stairs as a figure slowly descended them. Max was horrified the moment he laid eyes on the man. He was grotesque, to say the least.

  The man was dressed in rags, ripped and stained with blood. He was tall, unnaturally tall. His arms and legs were too long for his body, his fingers matching their unholy length. His skin was paler than snow and sunken in like it had been stretched over his bones. His ears were pointed and tall, sticking out from sickly black hair. And his smile—his horrible smile. He grinned like Max and Miranda were a five-course meal to a starving refugee.

  “Miranda… what the hell… is that?” Max said, finishing the last strap on his buckler. The man flicked his eyes back and forth between Max and Miranda. When they landed on Max, he would scrunch his eyes in confusion before going back to Miranda with a feral hunger. He gripped the handrail of the stairs gingerly and pulled himself forward, his head cocking back and forth while the terrible smile never faded. A black tongue licked his lips.

  “His… his aura, Max… it's dead… the last fleeting flutter of soul energy before the dead passes on,” Miranda stammered, her dagger quaking in the air. “He is stuck between life and death.”

  Max felt lead form in his stomach, as the horror stories from travelers in Weatherbreak Inn surfaced in his mind. Of the single most terrifying supernatural creature a lumberer in the woods could fear, even though one hadn't been spotted in more than twenty years.

  “Spilled…” the man hissed in a voice far too healthy for the man's presentation. He was now staring at the wound on Max’s arm. “You are…spilling it.”

  Miranda looked at Max, her eyes wide with fear. “Max… it's a vampire.”

  The creature let out a horrible shriek that rattled Max to the bone, then he lunged.