Out of the Frying Pan

  A deafening gong rang out as Nolan's frying pan slammed straight into the face of the female creature and her body was clotheslined, sending her tumbling like a broken doll into the mud.

  When the ancient fiend sprang forward, the female had followed suit and went to pounce on Nolan. However, in the moment's long standoff, Nolan had readied himself to unleash the most powerful swing that he could muster – which was pretty powerful by mundane human standards.

  There were tales of Relic holders and sorcerers who possessed the strength of a thousand men, but in comparison to a normal man, Nolan had a hell of a swing.

  Having been the finest of the boys in Brinehollow at Urchin Ball, a game where you threw sea urchins between fishing boats and hit them with paddles, Nolan was no stranger to hitting moving objects.

  Looking down now at the still figure sprawled in the mud, he couldn’t believe his eyes. He’d never imagined the effect it might have on something alive. The creature’s face had caved in where the pan had struck, her nose crushed flat, teeth scattered, bits of skin clinging to the dented metal.

  “By the Gods….”

  He mumbled the words to himself, breathing hard, heart hammering in triumph and disbelief. His first real kill! He knew that the seafarers in the North often had to fight pirates and deadly sea beasts. But to think that he’d earn his first kill on the road – it was nearly unimaginable.

  Smiling he glanced back again at the creature still laying limp in the mud, and marveled at how easy it had been to take down the beast. Perhaps too easy.

  It was then that he saw its body twitch slightly.

  Fear overtook Nolan’s joy as he heard the crack of bones, and he watched in terror as the creature moved one arm, and then another. Soon it had pulled itself to its knees and then slowly reoriented itself, settling its gaze back onto Nolan.

  Staring in abject horror, Nolan could do nothing but watch as what he’d perceived to be a visibly dead monster, with its face violently crushed, gather itself into a crouched position.

  Panic gripped him.

  Letting out a snarl, the demon then lunged—not at his chest this time, but low, fast, for his legs..

  Nolan could see the disaster that awaited him if he let the creature slip inside his guard, and stepped back trying to maneuver himself outside of its reach. Putting one foot behind the other, he continued to backpedal desperate to create space between it and him.

  Nolan’s panic was now reaching its boiling point, so much that he could hardly think.

  ‘Gods, gods, gods, gods.’

  Backpedaling until his boots hit stone at the courtyard’s edge, he tried to think. Reginald? Gone. Lukas? Worthless. This wasn’t the noble hero’s trial he had always dreamt of—this was a nightmare.

  ‘Maybe I don’t belong here, he thought. Maybe I am just a fisherman’s son. Maybe everything about noble blood and destiny is complete horseshit.’

  He could be brave against a living enemy, something that would stay down when killed. But not against this, not against something this inhuman.

  Not against a monster whose gaze bored into him and made him tremble like it did.

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  His eyes darted around, looking for escape.

  There—a door. The southeastern tower. It stood ajar, dark and narrow, leading somewhere—anywhere—but here.

  Looking away from the she-devil, Nolan planted his feet and then made to take off in an all-out sprint to the door. As he did, Nolan took a second to witness the events that were unfolding around him.

  Reginald fought with ferocity, trading blows with the ancient monster. Though the axe never found purchase, it kept the old creature at bay. The fiend danced around him like a shadow—clever, patient, whittling the big man down.

  Without another thought, Nolan turned and ran.

  As he sprinted, the scene around him flashed by in fragments.

  Reginald fought with ferocity, trading blows with the ancient monster. Though the axe never found purchase, it kept the old creature at bay. The fiend danced around him like a shadow—clever, patient, whittling the big man down.

  The merchant family fared worse.

  Orien was gone. Arin and Lily bled from shallow wounds. Lukas trembled, slack-jawed, barely clinging to his blade. Then—shockingly—Nolan watched as Lukas kicked his own wife’s leg from behind, sending her crashing to the ground.

  The two fiends pounced immediately.

  Lily screamed and lunged to protect her mother without hesitation.

  Lukas? He ran—straight for the same tower door Nolan had chosen.

  ‘Coward’, Nolan thought, even as his own legs carried him toward the very same path.

  He took one last step—and slipped.

  The mud gave way beneath him, and he hit the ground hard. Stars burst across his vision as the monster closed in, throwing herself onto him like a beast in heat and hunger.

  Though he’d been ready for their first encounter, nothing could have prepared Nolan for having to wrestle with a blood starved beast.

  The first thing he noticed upon grappling the female monster was that it was strong. Far, far stronger than he was, and though the creature had once been a petite woman, whatever unholy power flowed in its veins was proving enough to crush him in its bare hands.

  Moving quickly, the demonized woman wrestled its way on top of him. Grabbing hold of his arms, the fiend used its overpowering strength to force Nolan’s arms into the mud, pinning him to the wet earth.

  Nolan had a full view of her now, inches from his face. She appeared especially monstrous now that she was upon him. What had once been clearly a woman, perhaps even a beautiful one, was now a broken mess of cartilage and bone, its jaw hanging loosely from its skull and swaying with each of its movements.

  However, this destruction didn’t reach her eyes, as they clearly stared into his very soul. Gazing down upon him, those scarlet irises radiated a hunger so fierce that the sheer pressure of them made his muscles grow weak and crushed his will to fight. It was as if he were a scared rabbit caught in a trap, she was the hawk that would never stop until it fed.

  Dragging his wrists together, the female fiend held Nolan’s arms to the ground with one hand, and quickly rushed down to his neck.

  Feeling the monster upon him, Nolan had expected the sensation of hot breath upon his skin. Only there was none. Where he should have felt a warm hand holding his wrists, the monster’s iron grip was stone cold. And though he should have felt her beating heart from her chest pressed firmly against his own, the creature’s torso was completely still.

  It was then that Nolan remembered the old stories told by the old wives in Brinehollow.

  Stories of witches and warlocks, tales of men who could transform themselves into wolves at will, and perhaps most terrifying, legends of undead abominations that were slaves to the night and hunger. Blood drinking creatures that feared the sun, fed upon the living, and spread their curse to their prey if they didn't kill them outright.

  Feeling his panic now bursting from him, Nolan tried to force his body to move. Kicking his legs and trying to lift his arms to resist the monster that was about to drink from him. In this moment of clarity, Nolan finally remembered the name of the creature that was about to kill him.

  He was about to be drained by a vampire.