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A collection of the many ways of dispatching a vampire.

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Romania, 1894.

A squalid inn outside a rundown castle on a night as black as ravens’ wings. After exchanging the bulk of my coinage for what passes for drink in this place, the barkeep offers to sell me a box of protective relics for my journey homeward.

As I released the catch and opened the lid, I smirked at the trinkets, and the simple naivety of these peasants and their superstitious beliefs. I drained my glass and headed for the door.

I placed my hand on the door latch, and turned for one more snide look at these country simpletons. Outside a hound bayed. Another joined in. And another. Soon, it seemed as if the entire town were awash in their mournful song, and it quickly rose to a frantic, feverish yelping that tore through me like an icy wind.

I dashed back to the bar, slammed my remaining coins on the table, snatched the box from the barkeeper’s grubby hands, and rushed to my awaiting carriage, praying that I would make it out of this dismal town before the shadows closed around me.

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vampire, werewolf, threadless, ian leino, twilight, weapons, mythology, cryptozoology

Graphic designer and illustrator. Amateur chef and bassist. Homebrewer and pug owner.

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