blood feud

I know you're here. I could hear your heartbeat coming from a mile away. Literally.

Does it surprise you that I can speak directly into your mind. Undeath is a path to many unusual talents.

And I know why you're here. Someone like you shows up every now and then. In my experience, it's best to turn people like you, then sick you on your own friends and family. It dissuades others from being so bold.

Come on, then. The front gate of the estate is now open. You may enter.

...

I see you met my major domo. Looks like I'll be needing a new one.

And you're already injured. Tisk, tisk.

Did you really think you could pocket a few wooden stakes and call yourself a vampire slayer?

The Slayer Corps were a noble, dignified conclave of elite warriors. They were well-trained, disciplined. I know because I used to be one. You're nothing but an ignoramus stumbling about in the dark.

But by all means, young slayer, continue trundling around in my manse. Try not to bleed on the upholstery.

...

Ah, fear. The chemicals a human brain releases into the blood sour the taste—I can smell them in you. Stress, fear, and anguish create too buttery of a mouthfeel. Like an over-oaked chardonnay. No, I prefer the dry, dark tannins of lust. I prefer to seduce my prey, first.

Of course, if you were a real slayer, you'd already know this about me. A good hunter knows his prey intimately, watches them, studies them.

But you? I don't know you, and I don't care to. I'll leave you to my fledglings. They're young. They haven't had time to develop a sophisticated pallet. They'll eat just about anything. And they are hungry.

...

Interesting. It reflects quite poorly on me that my fledglings died so quickly.

You're a brave little slip, aren't you?

I've been an awful host. For that, I do apologize. I will be with you shortly.

...

It would appear you have destroyed my vocal chords with that neat little blade of yours. And did you coat your blade with garlic oil? Clever.

Then I am at your mercy. But before you plunge that stake into my heart and cut off my head, as I'm to assume is your plan, might I ask... who are you? I don't sense even the vaguest familiarity about you... but the way you fight... yes, and there's something about your eyes.

Yes, I see it now. So she survived long enough to give birth. Remarkable. I must assume your great uncle trained you. Did you know I made him watch as I dismembered his family?

Never leave a job unfinished, I suppose.

On that note—