I’ve mostly been writing self-indulgent vampire nonsense, so that’s what you get today:
A blur passed by them, accompanied by a cold breeze, and blood spilled from the ringleader’s mouth. It took Evangeline another moment to realize that his neck was bleeding. Most of his comrades had already fallen to the ground, but he staggered toward her.
Unthinkingly, Evangeline rushed to catch him. He coughed blood from his mouth and wound at once, his eyes fixed in terror at something behind her. Then Lizette screamed, and Evangeline turned to find a dead man towering over her, his lips red with blood, his eyes burning like the cold fires of hell.
This is better, she thought. I’d rather die fighting anyway.
The demon stepped toward her, and she plunged the shard of wood into his heart.
Several things happened at once. Lizette shrieked again, staggering backward. Evangeline felt a wave of warmth flow through her, starting with the hand which held the stake and ending at her raw, soaked feet. She’d expected to barely puncture the chest before her, but the shard slid through his rib cage as easily as a knife through butter. Like butter, the demon melted, blood bubbling from the wound and down her outstretched arm. He reached for her neck with both his hands and she watched in wonder as they, too, melted like hot wax.
I should be afraid, she thought as euphoria clawed its way through her body.
“Miss Barbriar, you are more than expected,” came a voice from the other end of the alleyway.
K. D. Hume 