Unnamed Journal Volume 3, Issue 1 - Page 23

Drunk Vampire Hunter weak for their servants. They’d rather feed off of the strong. The fresh night air that stank of blood and felt like the bottom of the sea felt nonetheless good in my lungs as I began to run in earnest after the L.L. Bean jacket across the graveyard. I no longer had to puke and my nerves and muscles were aflame from the pain of trying to recover myself - perfect for the kind of delirious activity I needed them for now. I felt my limbs and lungs straining and the skin on my face and the back of my necks start to bead with sweat from the strain of it all. But I’m moving faster than the jacket and gaining on it when it stops short suddenly and I finally see the face it belongs to but I’m too distracted to notice much about it because of the shiny metal object in its hand. Which I do recognize as a pistol. Fuck. I have no time before the shot goes off, but luckily the Renfield shoots from the hip and doesn’t bother to aim. His shot goes wide and I close the distance and leap into a drop-kick that connects with the solar plexus. Down goes the gun, down goes the Renfield, down goes I. Off in the distance some of the Hospitallers are using some kind of incantation against the Gorgolem. It’s not having much effect and the beast is still knocking them about like tenpins but at least they’re still trying. I can feel the sweats coming on me hard. I’m more worn than I realized. It’s got to have been 24 hours or more since I had actual food in my system. The bill for this abuse is coming due. So I force myself to jump