There is a kind of man whose teeth are like swords
And his jaw teeth like knives,
To devour the afflicted from the earth
And the needy from among men.

Proverbs 30:14



The vampire crouched by Cyclone, oozing necromantic magic. Jim was right. This one was old. It waited on all fours, like a dog that somehow sprouted humanoid limbs tipped with stiletto claws. The last lingering echoes of its humanity had faded long ago. It had become a thing, so revoltingly alien and frightening, it sent shivers down my spine.

Not an ounce of fat remained on its frame. Its thick skin clung so tightly to the steel-cable muscles, it resembled wax poured over an anatomy model made by a demented sculptor. Sharp bone protuberations broke the skin along its spine, creating a jagged ridge. Its nose was missing, not even a slit remain. Massive, lipless jaws jutted from its sickening face, revealing a forest of fangs embedded in crimson gums. A thick horn protruded from the back of its deformed skull. Its eyes glowed dark hungry red, like rubies thrust into the skull of a demon.