[i]Four weeks later...[/i]

He stepped carefully through the debris of the house, placing one foot ever so gently to avoid a scattering of broken glass that must have occured when the creature burst through the window and slaughtered the entire family. 

He stayed crouched low, eyes scanning the darkness ahead of him. He could hear a wet cracking and slurping sound, the beast must be feeding. His long coat had been left outside along with his iconic tall hat and pistols. There would no time to try a shot in a contained space like this. Instead he had brought a shield coated in silver and polished into a mirror like burnish. A simple wooden stake was held in his right hand. It would serve well enough for his purposes.

The slurping sound abruptly ceased and a female voice cut through the silence that followed. 

"I can feel your presence, human." A shadow shifted within the darkness and Solomon stopped, the tall shield held in front of him, his fingers clasping the stake tighter still.

"Interesting..." Continued the voice. "You resist my mind prob..."

Solomon did not respond. He knew well how he resisted magic without any true understanding of why, it had never been something he really needed to know. 

The shadow shifted again and a creature moved into the moonlight that poured through the shattered window. It was not tall, but the once white skin had gone deep grey, the lower jaw had dropped and projected to allow large teeth to form, and what might have once been an attractive human female was now a feral vampire. Not the pretty type so many legends made out to be normal, but the true monsters that haunted nightmares. 

"Who are you...?" He could see a long tongue tasting the air, the once human nose had flattened into the face to leave the skull a strange featureless grey expanse with nought but teeth and red eyes upon it. "A Knight? Some foolish peasant? Perhaps a monster slayer?"

The ability of feral vampires to speak as if they were still human had always been strange. True, they hissed the "S" a lot, but not much else was different. Despite it all he felt a little thrill roll up his spine as he spoke.

"I am but a simple man of God. I am, Solomon Kane."

The scream that met this announcement always hurt his head and the creature unwrapped itself from it's victim, a pretty young woman who was still blinking at the sky, hands feebly trying to replace her destroyed throat.

The feral hurled itself toward Solomon's voice and he stepped forward, thrusting the silver shield in front of him. In that instant the Vampire froze and an almost human look of sorrow crossed the brutal features. Solomon knew what the feral was seeing, herself, as she had been before the curse had taken her. It was fleeting but for a man of his skill it was long enough.

He took another step and drove the wooden stake into the creatures chest. A whiff of garlic rent the air as it passed him by for the tip had been dipped in garlic infused holy water. It pierced the grey skin of the chest like a hot knife might pierce butter and drove deep into the cavity where a human heart might be found. The actual location of a strike did not matter, for the introduction of garlic to the ferals bloodstream would kill it well enough.

The feral began to scream now, lashing out, narrowly missing Solomon as the wound began to smoke. In seconds the creatures whole body was consumed in a strange yellowing flame that produced no heat whatsoever. Solomon watched, as he always did, as the creature died, writhing in agony, the mouth opened in a now soundless scream. It took no more than a few moments but the fire died quickly away to nothing and only a blackened patch of floor remained where the creature had been. 

A gurgling sound caused him to look up and he saw the girl that the feral had been feeding on starting to recover. The wound on her throat was closing slowly. The regeneration of a vampire and it's kin were nothing short of remarkable. Still, he had several minutes before the transformation was completed and she was dangerous to anyone. 

The girl was undoubtedly pretty. Her long blonde hair and blue eyes would began to cloud over and fallout soon enough but it was enough time. In two strides he crossed the room and caught the girls wrists, quickly lashing them with a length of cord from his belt. Picking her up with ease he righted a table lying upside down on the floor and pushed her down on it. Her ability to render words was already gone and she snarled up at him, but he enjoyed those who fought back. 

He took her on the table, quickly and violently, his own passions always inflamed after a hunt. When he was finished he wiped himself on her dress. The blue eyes were starting to turn red now and the first of her hair began to fall out. She made no sound as he drove a second stake through her and into the table beneath her, the yellow fire rendering her to ash as it had her maker. Had he stabbed her any sooner, he would have potentially killed a human and he rarely did that.

He glanced around the house a final time before gathering his shield and stepping outside into the cool night air. He could feel sweat on his brow and was glad of it. It had been a few weeks since he had killed.

"Is it done?" A nervous voice came from behind an overturned wagon nearby.

"No... It killed me and ate my liver." He snarled with exasperation. "Yes it's done you idiot. My gold."

A heavy set man in armour stepped out from behind the wagon flanked by two swordsmen, both of whom eyed Solomon with something akin to awe on their faces. He handed over a bag of gold which Solomon expertly balanced in his hand, judging the weight. He did not suspect deceit and he did not detect any on the face of the country nobleman who had hired him.

The sound of hooves announced the arrival of an archer who rode into sight at the top of the long drive. He waved to the nobleman, slid from his horse, and then bowed to Solomon, proffering him a letter. The paper was thick and creamy, expensive. But the wax crest caused him to raise an eyebrow. A bat. Someone from the Imperium then. Who would have words with him? 

"My niece?" The nobleman inquired, breaking in on Solomon's musing.

"Dead." Solomon responded as he began to walk away, still staring at the crest on the letter he now held in one hand. He would have a read of it back at the inn.