The bright sun shone straight down into the small canyon. Larissa cast Detect Evil, facing a cave opening in the opposite cliff face, some 70 yards away, and winced horribly.

"That's it," she nodded, her face wrinkled up in distaste. "Even if it's not Geoffrey, there's something in there worthy of our attention." She shifted her gaze a bit, concentrating some more. "There's evil on top, too," she sighed. "Just like the man said."

Spiridale squinted his eyes, but, of course, couldn't see anything amiss. Shadows were just that – shadows. They could hide anywhere.

He turned his gaze each way along the canyon and pointed to the east. "This looks faster," he said, "but it may take all afternoon to go around."

"It will take longer than that," Larissa replied. "I must to pray to Chanteau for more magic. We may as well rest here."

 

They ate some, and Larissa prayed and slept, allowing her chosen deity to lay in her mind the magic for which she asked. Spiridale worked some with his bow and sword, sometimes glancing at the sleeping woman. She looked peaceful to him, there on that grassy plateau, with the canyon beyond, and the cool summer wind blowing her hair into her face.

He smiled as he practiced. He felt different before this battle than any other he'd fought. He'd be fighting side by side with someone he loved, and only because he wanted to. No other reason. And the fact that he had something to lose didn't matter, because it wasn't his anyway. Her love was a gift to him, which far outshone death itself. And even if she were to die or walk away from him, he would still no longer have any reason to carelessly throw himself into battle with reckless abandon.

In fact, he realized, he'd never even had a real reason in the first place.

Larissa stirred, smiling, and stretched luxuriously to find Spiridale standing over her. "Ready?" he asked.

Larissa sat up and turned, looking at the cave. She gazed at it, an even smile of triumph in her eyes – and determination. She feels it, too, Spiridale thought. Even if we lose today, we've still done so much.

"Three years," she murmured. "After 22 deaths, including my parents, and three years, I've found you."

"And he's probably killed many more than that," Spiridale helped her up. "Lets just not hand him two more as a free gift."

Larissa stood up and wrapped her arms around him, holding him for many long minutes. Spiridale returned the favor. It was a last good-bye – just in case. They kissed once, then they were on their way.

 

At midday, they had just cleared the edge of the canyon and started back the other side when Larissa reached into her satchel and handed Spiridale something. "They're goodberries," she said. "You eat them, and they'll heal some of your wounds.

"Before we get there, I should tell you what I know about vampires," she said. "After I made my blood oath, I tried to find out as much as I could. Some of it's vague. All of it's frightening.

"First of all, they have the ability to suck out your soul, piece by piece." She trembled a little as she said it. "Just by touching you. If he takes all of it, he eats it, I think, and we," she breathed heavily, trying to find the strength, "we will become vampires." Her voice lowered. "We would not go on to Arvanaith."

Striding along, looking at the canyon, and the green grass frolicking on up the hillsides, and the birds living their lives as best they could in the sunshine, flitting through the crystal blue sky, Spiridale's gut knotted up. Death had never scared him before, but this was death of another kind, a sacrifice and a risk more than he had ever taken before. He would not back down, he knew. But it filled him with sadness that, only the night before, he had learned how to live life all over again, just when it looked as if he might lose it forever, in every way.

He shook his head, and looked at Larissa with sadness and admiration, as she walked next to him with courage and pride. At least he'd had this little time with her, he thought.

"They're also very, very hard to kill," she went on. "They've got lots of magic at their disposal – dark magic, of a kind I could not even dream. From what I've heard, we must chop off its head to kill it, or put holy wafers in its mouth, or put a stake through its heart. I would prefer doing all three."

"Do we have any advantage at all?" Spiridale asked.

"Surprise," she sighed. "And what little magic we possess. I only hope it's enough."

They walked on in silence, enjoying the sunshine as best they could. An hour later, they arrived.

Spiridale glanced over the edge and barely saw the cave mouth directly below. "Where are those shadows?" he muttered.

"Lets find out," Larissa replied brightly, and cast Detect Evil again. She turned slowly, facing the area away from the cliff. "I feel cold," she said, "as if it's right – there!"

"Move!" Spiridale shouted, shoving her out of the way and diving to the ground. The shadow which had crept up behind them missed, but just barely, swiping in between them.

Spiridale rolled up reaching for his bow, then changed his mind and drew his sword. "Back away from the cliff!" he shouted, slicing at the one in between them. "Don't let them push you over!" He was furious. In one move, the shadows had separated them, forcing them to work apart instead of as a team.

There were now maybe 10 or 15 of them, he couldn't tell, moving shapes of darkness, seemingly coming out of the ground or from under rocks.

The first shadow rushed him. He sidestepped the attack, whirling back around as he did, slicing it in two. He finished the move by arresting his spin and stabbing forward with the weapon, sticking another shadow and destroying it. He felt no impact – only the magic of his sword caused them any harm. A third hit the shield on his back. More were closing in.

He risked a glance at Larissa. She was dodging them, saving her magic. Occasionally a shadow would touch her, but would be repelled by the magical barrier around her body, supplied by her bracelets.

Spiridale knew they wouldn't last long. Shadows could drain people of their souls, too. He'd seen it before.

"Larissa, get to the cave!" he shouted. "You're no good here!"

He charged away from the cliff, hoping the shadows would follow him, thinking him the more dangerous. Most did.

A line of shadows charged at him. He focused on one, injuring it, and breaking through. As it went down, it struck his chain mail. Even through the armor, Spiridale could feel the cold, hungry depths of its non-being. He shuddered.

No sooner was he through than he reversed direction and sprinted back towards the cliff, lightly stepping over the one on the ground. The shadows coming at him from either side missed by a hair, striking where they thought he'd be. He caught sight of Larissa, a hawk, now, flying up out of a circle of shadows to safety.

He jogged along just slowly enough to sheathe his sword, and the shadows recovered and gained on him. Then he sprinted for the cliff, easily outracing the shadows who had been after Larissa, but barely ahead of his own pursuers. The sight of the canyon loomed closer. His stomach knotted, but he didn't stop. He hit the edge at full speed and launched himself out into space, the wide vista of the canyon filling his vision.

There was nothing below him for three thousand feet.

The vertigo screamed in his mind. He spun and drew his bow, dropping fast, the wind already whistling in his ears. He grabbed a metal arrow and fired; he didn't even have time to properly aim.

Like from a powerful spring, the arrow embedded itself into the cliff face, but at an angle, and not very solidly. The rope which snaked out behind it tightened with a jerk as Spiridale grabbed hold. He kept his balance just long enough to angle for the cave.

He tumbled crazily in, skidding along the floor, ripping open a gash on his face. Instantly he heard a piercing scream which just about made his head explode. He looked around quickly, but was too dazed to tell what was happening.

A hawk glided into the cave, hovered for an instant, and shifted down into the shape of Larissa. She immediately hurled six darts at a floating skull, its mouth wailing a scream to the whole world that intruders were in the cavern. Four of the darts hit, the last one blowing the skull apart. The screaming stopped.

Spiridale, ears ringing, slowly stood up, clutching the wall for support.

"Are you all right?" Larissa faced him, slightly angry. Spiridale knew why.

"I had to do that," he replied. "We won't have another chance at this."

"Keep pulling stunts like that, we won't have a chance at all." Her voice softened, but still tense. "Our surprise is gone now. He knows we're here."

"Then we need to hurry. Please gather up my arrows," he said, for they had scattered all over the cavern as he had made his spectacular entrance. "I've got to re-tie this."

He pulled out another metal arrow, cut the rope still attached to the one above, and tied it on. He placed it back in his quiver, followed by the ones Larissa handed him. Some of them she left, for they were damaged. It didn't matter, he reasoned. If Geoffrey was as powerful as Larissa said, they probably wouldn't hurt him anyway.

"Come on," he said.

Larissa commanded the magic wand they had taken from the dead wizard to look for traps, and they followed the cavern as it descended down and to the right. It turned back slightly to the left, and on the outer curve was an ornate, perfectly placed mirror. Exactly the type they wouldn't have expected to find in a cavern which was a home for the undead.

The wand jerked in Larissa's hand, pointing at the mirror, but it was too late.

Another Spiridale and another Larissa popped out of the mirror, duplicates in every respect, right down to the weapons they held in their hands. They headed for their doppelgangers.

Spiridale dodged his duplicate and ran to the mirror, smashing it with the Flame Tongue. But his replica spun around with his own Flame Tongue and cut him along the leg as he went past. Spiridale staggered.

As Larissa drew her scimitar, she recognized the spell her duplicate cast. It was Charm Person. She knew it easily because she had the same spell in her memory, in case they came across any more human apprentices. The spell didn't work; she shook it off.

"Spiridale!" she yelled as she swung, nicking her opponent on the chin. "They've got our abilities! Somehow, they're us!"

Spiridale took the information in, and a split second later acted accordingly. If his duplicate acted the way he would act, then he must do something completely unexpected. The paradox that his duplicate might come to the same conclusion never occurred to him.

Paradoxes, however, were mercifully beyond Spiridale.

Fortunately for him, the mirror's creations didn't work that way. The duplicate dropped the sword and pulled his bow, loading and drawing back in one fluid motion. The real Spiridale dropped his own sword and reached for his most-unused weapon – his whip.

It snaked back and lashed out. Spiridale went for one specific target. He knew how good he was with a bow, and needed to separate it from his enemy as quickly as possilble.

Just as he was about to fire, Spiridale's whip lashed around the bow and yanked it away.

He immediately reached for his own bow and fired twice, hitting him in the legs.

He knew very well what he would do next in the same position. He would go for his sword on the ground.

His opposite did just that, diving for his Flame Tongue. But Spiridale only had to shift six inches to meet him there with three arrow shots. One missed, but the other two hit him in the neck and head, piercing his skull and killing him instantly. Magical energy swirled over him, and he and his equipment all disappeared.

Larissa followed the same strategy, but only by accident. As she was predominantly a spellcaster, her duplicate used magic. But she refused to use her own, still desperately trying to save it for Geoffrey. So she attacked with her scimitar.

It actually worked quite well. Being quicker with the scimitar, she cut her opponent, bit by bit, interrupting her spells. After her duplicate tried the Charm Person, Larissa attacked relentlessly, watching Produce Fire and Hesitation spill away in quick succession. She was landing blows, but not very good ones. Never before had she realized just how good a dodger she was. Her duplicate was almost impossible to hit.

She missed on her next swipe by quite a bit, and paid for the mistake as insects suddenly swarmed around her body, biting incessantly. She let out a yelp and attacked furiously, landing a solid blow, disrupting Choose Future. Just as she cut down her opponent's chest, a long sword came through her from behind, finishing her off. Magical energy swirled, and she, too, disappeared, along with the insects, to reveal Spiridale standing in front of her.

"How did you know which one to strike?" she gasped, quite shaken.

"No comparison. She sneered, looked evil. You," he said, "were horrified to be fighting yourself."

Larissa just shook her head, muttering, "Lets get out of here."

She cast a healing spell on Spiridale, curing the nasty wound in his thigh. They pressed on, again calling upon the wand.

They were going along the cavern so quickly, they both missed a secret door they might have spotted otherwise, as elves have keener senses than most races. After they passed, it opened, and a troll stuck his head out, looking after them with an evil leer on its face. It clambered out and followed them. Three more did the same.

 

The cavern suddenly widened, the walls extending about 20 feet away on either side. Larissa held up her hand. "Trap," she breathed, looking at the wand.

"Where?" Spiridale wanted to know.

Larissa was confused. "I don't know," she said. The wand was pointing down, but was slowly waving around. "It seems to be – it's the floor! It's the entire floor!"

"Hold this and grab on!" he cried, handing her his sword, and once again his speed with the bow saved them. He shot his third metal arrow at the ceiling, the rope attached to it. No sooner did it pierce rock than the entire floor gave way and fell into darkness. Larissa yelped and grabbed him around his waist, barely holding on to the Flame Tongue as she did.

Dank air washed up at them as the huge stone whooshed downward, tilting slightly as it descended. It was a good five seconds before the sound of a crash echoed up at them.

Spiridale looked up to check how well the arrow was imbedded in the ceiling. It would hold – for now. He also noticed something else.

"There are bats up there," he muttered.

"Well that's better than what's down there," Larissa almost screeched, "which is nothing!"

"Change into a bird and fly over," Spiridale said.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I can only change into a certain type of animal once per day," she said. "That's why I don't do it that often." She paused. "I could change into an elephant."

"Please don't. Swing with me," Spiridale ordered, tensing his body for momentum. "We need to reach the other side."

Very carefully, he let out some slack on the rope, noticing he didn't have much left in his carrier. They started swinging, gently at first, then in a wider arc, getting closer to the opposite edge all the time.

As they swung back toward the original side, a troll hand quietly reached out in the darkness. It was a hair too late, snatching at air where their feet had been.

They swung sharply for the other side, disturbing the bats a little in the process. Spiridale's foot hooked onto the ledge, and his hand grasped the corner. They awkwardly pulled themselves up.

As they did, they let go of the rope, not giving it another thought. The last of it snaked out of Spiridale's carrier, swinging back over the pit – and close to the other side.

A troll leaped out with a banshee yell of bloodlust and grabbed the rope, his momentum carrying him across the shaft, right at them. Behind it were more trolls, shouting and roaring, pressed tightly together. Surprised, the two elves had less than a second to react.

Spiridale spun and drew, just like his father had taught him all those years ago.

He grabbed the last of his metal arrows and took aim for the shot of his life.

The only thing guiding him was the silhouette of the rope, a thin line of darkness in front of the heat given off by the trolls still on the other side, which his elvensight could see. He let it fly.

The arrow not only parted the rope cleanly, just as the troll was halfway across, but with one hundred pounds of pressure behind it, passed through the second troll and entered the third.

The troll swinging across plummeted down the shaft, screaming in fury, arms and legs thrashing.

So tightly packed together were the other trolls that the arrow was halfway in one of them, halfway in another, connecting them like a pin. They didn't scream, but simply stopped functioning. They slowly toppled over into the shaft, flipping end over end gently as they fell.

Spiridale wasted no time. Seeing there was only one troll left, he pulled an arrow and drew back his bow, which promptly snapped, cutting his face. The string could only take so much.

The troll grinned, and slowly made his way forward. On one side of the pit was a narrow shelf, six or seven inches wide, for the shaft was not completely smooth. It started edging along it. Spiridale hurriedly dug out another string, but the troll would obviously make it across before then.

"Let me," Larissa said. She cast a spell, one she knew would be useless against Geoffrey, for normal insects would not damage a vampire. But they would a troll.

Within seconds there were beetles, ants, and flies, among other things, swarming around and on the troll.

"Ha hah!" the disgusting creature grinned. "Your pets will not help you, wench. You think this will slow me down?"

"No," Larissa said with pride and contempt, "but the bats will."

"Huh?" it grunted, then looked up as something above them stirred, and within seconds a swarm of bats flew down, sensing one thing – food. All they were interested in were the insects. But the troll didn't know that.

"Stop!" it screeched. "Get away! Get away!"

It toppled, and a few well-placed darts from Larissa finished the job. Its foot slipped, and it fell screeching into the abyss.

They listened to the echoes dying away. "Good work," Spiridale said, restringing his bow.

"They'll be down there forever, you know," Larissa said. "Their bodies will grow back, and they will live again, but never climb out – alive for all eternity in a prison which no one will ever know about." She shook her head. "Almost makes me sad."

From the darkness, hidden hands and a low hiss cast the spell Sleep. Nothing happened; they didn't even feel it. Elves were practically immune to such mind-altering magic.

Spiridale grinned and stood up. Larissa silently gave a command to the wand again and they ran on.

And stopped up short as Larissa grasped Spiridale's arm, full of fear. Spiridale suddenly remembered her spell to detect evil was still working.

She pointed in the darkness ahead, barely whispering the word, "Evil." She clenched her jaws, fighting not to panic. "That way," she whispered.

Spiridale nodded and gripped his sword, sweating.

This was it.

 

Slowly, they moved forward. No sooner did they take the next step than a disembodied hand flew out, clamping down shut on Larissa's mouth. She could now not cast a single spell.

Spiridale whipped around to face that direction, but saw no one. Larissa let out muffled cries and immediately dropped to her knees, tearing madly at the hand. It would not come off.

The slightest of murmurs echoed, and a fog bank suddenly appeared in the cavern, slowly rolling forward.

Larissa was almost beside herself with terror, desperately trying to say something. Spiridale grabbed her neck, thrust her head forward, and said, "Stay there."

She closed her eyes, knowing what was coming. She trembled, but trusted Spiridale completely. There was pride in her poise.

He drew back the Flame Tongue and flashed it down, destroying the hand and doing no more than nicking her nose in the process. She gasped and pointed. "He's right there!" she screamed. Then she cast a spell.

Spiridale whirled, but saw nothing – until the Faerie Fire suddenly outlined a cloud of gas reaching for him, only inches away.

He twisted and rolled along the floor, desperately pushing himself away. Larissa backed up, too, against the opposite wall. "Hold him there!" she yelled.

Spiridale swung his shield out in front of him, grasping it with both hands on one end. As the cloud approached, he swung it like a wide club, batting and fanning the cloud away. It was a hopeless gesture, but it was all he could think of.

Larissa was casting a spell, but was taking her sweet time as far as Spiridale was concerned. He swung again in the opposite direction and backed away. The cloud danced around the shield and came at him from the side. Spiridale couldn't do it again. He held the shield up and turned away as the cloud reached for his neck.

And the Whirlwind that appeared in between them knocked him back against the wall. But it did much worse to Geoffrey.

The gaseous form wasn't thrown about by the miniature tornado, but it was driven violently back. The fog all around them was completely blown away.

The glow shifted and became an erect figure of pale gray skin and rasping breath. They could tell the color, for now that the fog was gone, a room at the end of the tunnel could be seen. The torches glowing inside cast just enough light to see by.

Spiridale got to his feet, barely listening to the spell Larissa was casting. He stood, fascinated, as the wounds on Geoffrey's body from the dust devil started closing up.

The Hesitation Larissa cast didn't seem to have any effect, as Geoffrey let out a ferocious snarl and slashed the whirlwind with his incredible strength, disintegrating it with no effort whatsoever.

Shield held in front of him, Spiridale leapt forward, brandishing the Flame Tongue. He scored a solid hit, slicing open Geoffrey's chest, and heard a searing sound. Geoffrey snarled in fright and anger as the wound was burnt by the weapon, refusing to heal.

A small, magical flame sprang up in Larissa's hand. She hurled it at Geoffrey, but he stepped back, easily letting it fly by. Spiridale swung down with the sword, which Geoffrey sidestepped. But halfway down the swing, Spiridale twisted, arcing the sweep under him, slicing across the vampire's legs.

Geoffrey screamed again, but this time, something was different. His hands were high in the air, and his ghastly wail echoed down the caverns.

As he stood there for a split second, Spiridale saw that all of his wounds were gone except the ones his sword had inflicted.

Spiridale raised the weapon again, but Geoffrey suddenly leaped forward, smashing his fist against Spiridale's shield. The elf slammed into the wall for the third time that day, and lay there for a second, his head pounding.

Larissa didn't notice Spiridale get hit. A new flame had sprung up in her hand to replace the one she'd thrown, but there it stayed, unheeded. She was listening to something else, a clicking sound that echoed upon echo.

From an opening down by the room, from endless miles of cavern beneath them, streamed over one hundred rats, answering Geoffrey's howling, evil summons.

In seconds they would be swarmed.

All three of the combatants were blinded as a wall of magical fire, called upon by Larissa, flashed up under all of the rats for an instant. The clattering stopped, and the stench of charred flesh and Geoffrey's roar of rage filled the air.

Larissa groped forward, waiting for the flash imprinted on her eyes to clear. It did, just in time to see Geoffrey lash out with Cone of Cold.

The icy blue cone expanding from his hands smashed into her perfectly, on every inch of her body at once, like a boulder thrown by a giant. It threw her back, skidding and tumbling across the floor, through the door into the vampire's brightly lit lab and library, where she finally stopped by slamming into the far wall.

Spiridale had just popped some goodberries into his mouth when his eyes cleared and he saw Larissa get hammered, Geoffrey walking quickly, purposefully after. He roared and got up, running after them, but he was too far behind.

Geoffrey was already in the room, advancing on Larissa. Gasping, eyes filled with panic, she scampered away, yelling in terror. She crawled along the wall, throwing tables and bookshelves in his path, which he relentlessly, effortlessly smashed aside, not letting them impede him one bit. The last table she threw down in front of him before she was trapped in the corner hid her from sight for a moment. Geoffrey lashed forward with his foot, stomping the table down flat, shattering the legs and Larissa both beneath the hard wood.

But the table went straight through to the floor, nothing beneath it. Geoffrey roared and hoisted it up.

Larissa was not there.

He roared again, hurling the table against some of his equipment. Glass went flying, almost cutting up a little mouse which scurried along the floor and sought shelter behind a cabinet. Larissa stayed there for a second, collecting her wits.

Geoffrey smashed the last of his equipment around, searching for her violently. Two arrows flew through him and hit the far wall. They hadn't even touched him, so powerful was his dark magic.

Spiridale stood in the doorway, restrapping his bow. He hadn't wanted to hurt him so much as draw him back out of the room, away from Larissa.

But Geoffrey wasn't that stupid. As Spiridale reached for his sword, the vampire cast Web, trapping him there in the doorway in a thick, sticky mess of gray webbing.

Larissa ran to a position behind the vampire, hiding behind an overturned table, and changed back into elven form. Some of her wounds were gone, but not nearly enough. Geoffrey didn't hear her. She cast a healing spell on herself, then immediately regretted it as she realized she shouldn't have waited.

For Geoffrey let loose with Aganazzar's Scorcher. A horrendous flame shot out from his body which not only caught Spiridale squarely, but ignited the flammable web around him. Screaming in pain, he was surrounded by fire for several seconds before finally tearing himself free. He was alive only because of a magical ring of fire protection he wore on his finger.

Gritting her teeth in determination, Larissa chanted a spell, and a scimitar of fire sprang from her hand, connected to her body.

Geoffrey saw the glow coming from behind him and turned just as Larissa stood up. Her surprise was gone.

She reached back with the fiery blade, a rage within her to cut him, but before she could bring it across his chest, Geoffrey cast a spell of his own. An arm of stone rose out of the floor and held fast to her back leg. She could not step forward to reach him.

"Come at me!" she screeched, madly pulling against the iron grip.

Geoffrey simply smiled, a knowing, evil smile, and shook his head. He slowly turned to face Spiridale, the one who actually had power to hurt him, just now getting up off the ground.

Geoffrey knocked him right back down, slamming him into a wall with arrows of flame from his hands. Once again, only Spiridale's ring saved him. Even so, he looked terrible.

Larissa wiped a sleeve across her eyes. She wasn't beaten, not yet. She still had one more trick to play. She quickly cast Meld Into Stone.

And sank through the arm holding her, into the floor.

Geoffrey cast more magic on Spiridale – Boltyn's Burning Blood, a twisted spell designed to make his wounds burst into flame. But it failed because Spiridale was too well protected.

Behind him, having nothing to hold, the stone arm disappeared. Larissa rose up out of the ground again, the flame blade still going.

Spiridale stumbled to his feet again. "Must – get up," he muttered. "Enemies – never give me time – to get up." He stood, glaring at Geoffrey with utter defiance.

Geoffrey roared, determined to finish this. He had weakened the elf enough. He charged, hands outstretched to Spiridale's neck.

Still dazed, Spiridale barely had time to duck to one side. His sword flashed up, cutting off one of Geoffrey's hands at the wrist. His shield came up also, blocking most of Geoffrey's body.

Behind him, Larissa cast Choose Future and laid hands on herself.

Geoffrey screamed with outright rage right in Spiridale's face, grabbing at the elf. Spiridale thrust the shield up and out, holding him off as best he could. The effort forced him to drop the sword as all his energy was confined to holding the shield.

The two combatants struggled for a few seconds, Spiridale awkwardly blocking him and keeping his remaining hand at bay as best he could, but it was inevitable that Geoffrey reach around and touch him. He almost did, but Larissa was behind him.

To her mind, she suddenly became two people after she cast Choose Future. She stepped forward as two people, swung at the vampire's neck as two people, and got two completely different results. One missed horribly, grazing across his back. The other result was quite spectacular. She chose.

Larissa stepped forward, and with a great roar – "Ya!" – swiped off the vampire's head, clean through the neck. His finger had been an inch from Spiridale's cheek.

Spiridale nervously pushed the body away with his shield, awestruck, and it slowly fell to the floor. Larissa dug out a wooden stake and looked at Spiridale. He nodded and picked up the Flame Tongue. He got into position on one side and hammered down. The stake went home.

The body convulsed horribly, and blood gushed out. Spiridale and Larissa both sank to the floor, exhausted.

Shaking, Larissa reached into her pocket again and pulled out a metal box, securely fastened. "I've been carrying these around for three years." She smiled faintly. "I almost believed I'd never use them."

She opened up the box and took out small wafers, tightly packed. Some were still undamaged, even after the battle. Disgusted, she firmly thrust them into the vampire's mouth. "There," She drew back, staring in awe. "It's done." She closed her eyes wearily. "Mother. Father. It's finished."