Watch yourself, I say to Stuart. He’s bound to do something unexpected.

As if the monster can read my mind, he takes a flying leap to the top of the crypt to our left. The three of us scatter back, wheeling to face him, assuming defensive posture lest he try to drop down on our backs and sink his fangs into our skulls.

“You smell delicious, hunter.” Crouched like a giant bird, he smiles and licks his tongue at me. “I’m sorry I won’t get to eat you.”

Cold hands clamp around my neck as his final words are spoken, and before I’ve had a chance to regain my footing I’m in the clutches of a strong vampire.

“Fuck!” I growl, shooting out my palm and making contact with the forehead of the same killer clown who scampered down the wall at me last night.

I’m not strong enough to fight him off, but my quick movements keep his fangs from sinking into my neck. His teeth slice through my shoulder, ripping my shirt and leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

He rises up almost faster than I can see and starts another plunge for my neck.

“No,” I shout, reaching for the stake in my back pocket as I twirl in the dim light. It’s out, but I’m bit. His fangs pull a deep drink of shifter blood from my veins.

A heavy, black body dives across my opposite shoulder, hitting the demon in the chest, loosening his hold on my neck and sending him staggering back. At the same time, my attacker falls to his knees, screaming in agony from the burn of shifter blood.

My neck is on fire from the residual vampire saliva making contact with the shifter in my veins. It takes me a moment to find my balance, but in that time, I’m aware two more have joined their ranks. We’re outnumbered, and we’re surrounded.

Stuart seems to have grown larger as his shoulders bulge. He’s standing guard beside me, and I’ve only just caught sight of Patrick finishing the homeless-man-turned-vampire.

“Why have you returned, hunter?” The old one hisses. “We’re not troubling you.”

Bargaining with bloodsuckers turns my stomach, but in this case, we have to be sure we’ve found what we’re after. I want no false sense of security. I want to know for a fact I’ve killed the one who killed Alison.

“Six years ago you left this cemetery for New Jersey,” I say. “While you were there, you lured a young woman into the woods, where you bit her, drained her of blood, and left her dead in a shallow grave.”

The bloodsucker’s face doesn’t move. He’s like a marble statue watching me charge him with the crime.

“That woman was my wife.”

Patrick’s at my side now, and I stand with my two brothers facing three agents of darkness. It’s the chant. We’re here for justice.

“I don’t know time, hunter, and I stopped remembering kills long ago.” The vampire’s voice is scratchy with age. His skin is almost translucent in the growing moonlight. A quick glance tells me it’s a full moon tonight. They’ll be stronger than any other night of the month. Fuck.

Focus. Stuart is in my head. We can handle this.

Even though I was his commanding officer as a Marine, in shifter form, he’s the alpha, and his word calms my racing thoughts.

Say her name, Stuart says.

“Alison Spencer Alexander,” I say. “Princeton, New Jersey.”

A swirl in the air behind me, and it’s too late to wait for a confession. Patrick’s yelp pierces the night, and I feel the pain of the knife blade slicing through his shoulder. I have only a second to lunge forward when the second one is on top of me, scratching and clawing for my throat. It was enough time, however, and I’m able to plant my boot in the fiend’s chest and shove it hard against the opposite wall of crypts.

Patrick’s wounded, and the fucker on him is pulling back for another stab. Stuart dove at the old one just as the ambush happened, and I see him ahead snapping and biting at the ancient being. The fiend is moving fast, evading every attack and landing kicks on my partner’s muzzle and ribs.

I can only choose one of them to save as I whip the gun from my boot.

BAM! BAM! BAM! The bare concrete around us amplifies the gunshot noise, and the vampire on my younger partner falls dead at his feet.

Patrick’s lying on his side on the cobbled walk, and I go to him, looking back to see how Stuart has fared. He’s managed to get the advantage by jumping onto a platform. Now he’s face to face with the killer clown, snapping and lunging for his claw-tipped white hands.

In a flash of white, the vampire grabs Stuart’s muzzle—one hand on his upper and one on his lower jaw. He’s preparing to rip my partner’s head apart. Without a moment to lose, I snatch the wooden stake from my back pocket. A quick prayer my aim is true, and I throw the sharp wooden rod with all my strength.

A loud yelp, and I’m afraid I’m too late. Everything goes still, and I don’t know if I hit or I missed. It’s not until Stuart shakes his jaws out of the vampire’s limp hands that I realize I hit him. The old one staggers and falls against the concrete platform with a grunt.

At the loss of their leader, the other monsters fall back and begin to disappear into the shadows. The ones who have never made a kill will be released from his spell and return to human life. The others, depending on their strength, will either retreat to the crypts and go dormant or emerge to start their own legacy of horror.

Either way, we don’t have to worry about further attack tonight. A quick check tells me Patrick will be okay. His shifter blood is already healing his stab wounds, just like the shifter blood in me is already healing my bites.

I pull the ancient knife used in our ritual from the holster at my waist and quickly slice off the head of the vampire I shot. Then I stride to the old one, dying on the stones.

He isn’t dead yet, and I can only pray we get our answers.

“Alison Spencer Alexander,” I demand. “You killed her six years ago in the woods of New Jersey. Confess, bloodsucker!”

A grinding sound like the scraping of a boulder over bricks fills the air. It shudders and stops then starts again. I realize the fucker is laughing at me, and it takes all my willpower not to pull my leg back and kick his head off his shoulders like a football.

Still, I have to be sure. “Answer me, demon. Did you kill my wife?”

Stuart is on his feet now, fully recovered. He walks slowly over to the dying fiend, opens his large muzzle, and clamps it on the vampire’s neck. The monster’s eyes widen in horror as my partner slowly applies more and more pressure with his teeth.

It’s a hideous sight in the black and white shadows, but Stuart isn’t breaking the undead skin. Yet.

Ask him about Sloan, Stuart says in my mind.

“Sloan Reynolds recorded your involvement in the murder,” I say, and at the mention of my former mentor’s name, the thing’s eyes flare with anger.

He coughs, a sick sound signaling his approaching death. The stake is deep in his heart. It’s a slow, painful way to die, and I’m not sorry.

“Get your dog off me.” His voice is a contemptuous snarl.

Stuart’s eyes meet mine and he pauses only a moment before releasing his hold on the monster and stepping back—not too far.

“Say that name again,” the thing says.

“Sloan Reynolds. He was a vampire hunter like me.”

It starts to laugh, but the eerie noise is broken by another sick cough of death. His glowing white eyes focus on mine, and his next words send ice through my veins.

“Sloan Reynolds is a one of us,” it croaks out. “Sloan Reynolds killed your wife.”

I feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach. My wind is gone, and I actually drop to one knee not wanting to believe it. At the same time…

Ask him how he knows, Stuart says.

We’re behind a concrete wall topped with urns. The entire scene is growing darker, more shadowy by the minute. Memories of what happened to Sloan, his involvement with the vampire, his withdrawal. I never saw him in the daylight again.