text: “Make sure that needle’s clean,” Sybil said. “Don’t want any infections now.” “Infections? You’re worried about infections?” “Oh, sorry Charles. Perhaps *you’d* like to give blood instead so I can stab you with dirty needles?” “It’s clean, all right? You saw me run a flame over it--twice! Now if only I can find your vein. I don’t remember you being this hairy.” “Shut up. It’s the time of the month.” “Hmph,” Charles said, “I still don’t get why Drago over there doesn’t do this himself. Afraid of blood my arse. He *is* a vampire, after all.” “Hnng?” came a voice from a dark corner of the barn. “He’s hurt, Charles.” “It’s a silver bullet to the leg,” Charles said. “That shouldn’t stop him from drinking blood straight from your neck, should it?” “He doesn’t want me to turn, that’s all.” “Look here, Sybil. The blood’s flowing down this tube into this packet down here. How hard would it be to drink straight from the source? Why do we have to do the extra work?” “Hey,” Drago said, “It’s not just blood that gets me, all right? It’s needles too. And you can’t just expect me to drink Sybil’s blood out of a straw like she’s some sort of... beverage!” “We’re always doing extra work just for you, is all I’m saying.” “Just do your work, Charles,” Sybil said. The nurse muttered under his breath. Words like “coward” and “world’s most useless vampire” shared that breath. “I heard that!” Drago exclaimed. “Good! I wanted you to!” “Can we please just stop fighting? Please?” Sybil said. “*I’m off to buy a drink*,” Charles said, his mouth twisted to one side, his voice a mock European accent. “*No, no blood today*.” “That’s not how I talk!” “Just because you ordered a bloody Mary doesn’t mean you can add in your own stash, Drago. In front of the bartender, no less!” “I thought she wouldn’t notice--” “Well she did!” Charles was standing now, a fistful of hay in his hand, which he flung into the darkness where Drago’s voice came from. A horse neighed. “You know how much they hate vampires here, and yet you act as you please. Well you’ve gotten us all into trouble now. You happy?” “Well, I needed to feed. You don’t know how it feels like when the weakness overcomes me. It’s not my fault I was born a--” “Don’t you dare bring the race card into this! You’re lucky the clouds blocked the moon back there, because you could’ve lost more than just a leg. Now it’s just a matter of time before the sheriff combs through the village, and what do we do then, huh?” “Just help me heal, idiot. Then I’ll take care of--” “Shut up!” Sybil yelled. “Both of you! All your bickering isn’t going to help anything. What’s done is done, and we can’t change that. Now, can we just focus on helping the damned bat man so that we’d have a chance in a gunfight?” Charles watched in silence as the blood dripped into the bag. “I still think he’s--” “Shut!” Some hay rustled in the dark. “You humans always think--” “I said quiet!” The barn fell into silence, but only for a while, as barely two minutes would’ve passed before there was a thud on the door. “What the--” said the voice outside. “It’s barricaded from within. They must be in there.” A few more thumps on the door shook some of the dust off its slats. “Open up! It’s the sheriff. We know you’re in there!” “Shit,” Charles said, pulling the needle out of Sybil’s arm. “I don’t know if it’s enough, but it’ll have to do.” He capped the bag and tossed it into the corner. “You best do whatever it is you do and get us out of here.” “How much time do you need?” Sybil said. “Five minutes,” came the voice from the darkness. “I hear ya in there!” said the sheriff. “Now you come out nice and peaceful and we won’t have any problems, ya hear?” “Just a minute!” Sybil said. “I’m putting on my clothes!” She looked at Charles’ inquiring face, then shrugged. “We’ve got to buy time somehow.” “Ma’am, I’m going to need you to step outside--” “Just hold on, sheriff. I need to put on my clothes too, if you’d be so kind,” said Charles. “What in the hell’s going on in there?” came another voice from outside. “This is bullshit,” said the sheriff. “Tear the door down.” As soon as he said that, splinters of wood exploded off the door and ricocheted towards Charles and Sybil. One shard spun through the air and lodged itself into the pillar where Sybil’s head was just a second ago. There were the sounds of shotguns cocking, and the deafening blasts that followed. “What the fuck!” Charles yelled. “You’re going to kill us!” “I think that’s the point,” Sybil said. More shotguns cocked. More blasts followed. “It would be *real* great if you could help us now,” Sybil said. “I still haven’t healed!” “Well then heal faster!” The shotguns cocked. The blasts followed. This time, the bullets would shear a hole in the door large enough to admit a rather portly man, which meant that the sheriff barely had space to squeeze through. He stepped in, squelching in mud and sawdust alike. “All right,” he said, “which one of ya’s the bloodsucker?” A head stuck out from one side of the sheriff, then the other. “They were with him,” said the head, “but they’re not the one I served.” “Damn snitch,” said Charles. The sheriff glowered over them. “Now ya guys turn the creature in and we won’t have to drag your sorry asses back with this guy’s body. Your choice.” Something shuffled in the corner of the barn, and the sheriff let loose a slug without looking. “Motherfucker!” Charles yelled. Both him and Sybil had their hands to their ears. Through the ringing, Sybil could barely hear Drago screaming bloody murder. *Shit*, she thought, *was he shot?* “Whaddaya mean he’s not the boss?” Charles yelled. “I said, he got the horse!” “He got you by the balls?” A groan of exasperation left the darkness. The deputy, having just slunked into the barn, trained his torchlight at the source of the groan, and there was Drago, still crouched on a stack of hay, the blood bag on his lips, streaks of red flowing down his chin. He looked as if he got caught raiding the wine cellar. A horse lay beside him, legs still twitching. “Well, well,” said the sheriff, cocking his shotgun. “Nowhere to hide now, freak.” “No!” came a yell, and with that yell came Charles, who tried to wrest the gun away from the sheriff. The rest only looked on, looking equally as surprised as the sheriff was. They danced for a few seconds before another blast clapped at their eardrums. Pieces of the wooden ceiling crashed onto the mud, letting in a wide shaft of moonlight. “Oh, jeepers,” said Sybil. The sheriff, being twice as wide as Charles, heaved his assailant face first into the mud. “Simon, stay on him,” he said. “You do that one more time, mister, and I’ll blow your head clean off, human or not.” Of course, the sheriff’s words would’ve been more audible had Sybil not screamed over him. Her yells bounced across the wooden walls. There were sounds of twigs breaking and cloth tearing. “Wha” --said the deputy, and upon seeing what stood before him now, he continued-- “aaaaaaaaaaaa!” “What the hell’s your” --began the sheriff, who also caught sight of the creature and went-- “raaaaaaaaaa!” Charles merely looked up and said, “Wha?” The sheriff barely ducked a swipe at his neck, and had his shirt sliced off from the next. “It has claws! Get out of my way, Simon!” he said. The sheriff, deputy, and the bartender ran out into the open and off into the night, their cries trailing behind as an afterthought. Soon, all that was left was silence. That, and a weird heaving. “Is... is that you, Sybil?” Charles said. The figure before him nodded, its fur reflecting the shaft of moonlight beaming in through the roof. “You’re a lycan?” Charles said. “You’re a *lycan*?” Drago said. “Oh, *now* he comes out. Where were you when we needed your help, huh?” “I was recovering!” “Or hid--” A roar batted them both into silence. “Right,” Drago said, quieter this time. “But you’re a lycan? All this time, you’ve been giving me your blood...” “I don’t think that’s the issue right now.” “No, it is. Vampires need human blood to survive.” “Aaand... her blood tastes better?” “No. Vampires can *only* survive on human blood.” Drago turned to Sybil. “You knew all this while? Is my thirst just a mental thing?” The figure that was once Sybil shrugged. It also whined a little. “Hah,” Charles said. “You really are the most useless vampire in the world, you know that?” “I... I think you may be right.” “Well I’d love to gloat, but I don’t think we’re welcome in this town anymore. Should we get going?” Things seemed quiet outside the barn, though that wouldn’t be for long. Soon the entire village would be out for them. The unlikely trio padded out into the trees, relying on the vampire’s keen sight to lead them out of this town and into another. “Thanks,” Drago said. “For what you did back there.” “Ah, don’t mention it. You treat me better than my own race does.” Sybil let out a whine from behind them, though in this context she sounded more like a hyena. “Maybe don’t get us caught again next time,” Charles said. “You know what?” Drago said, casting a sideways look at Sybil. “I think I actually won’t.