Piper watched the events of the battle through a red haze, while a raspy voice in the back of her mind urged her to slaughter every mortal. She watched as one of the men turned and fled, dropping his cudgel as he ran. But she didn’t care about him. More than anything, she wanted to murder the armored man on the horse. She wanted to split open his ribcage and feast on his still-beating heart.

  As she advanced, her murderous rage began to recede like the tides of the ocean, and she felt the strength draining out of her limbs. She blinked once, twice, and then her vision returned to normal. The voice urging her onward faded away until she could only hear muted echoes of it. And with the end of her [Demonic Fury], horrifying visions of what she’d done flooded her mind.

  She lifted her trembling hands to see them covered in blood. Her stomach twisted, and she retched, emptying the contents of her stomach. The memory of her claws tearing through the man’s throat kept flashing through her mind over and over again. She stumbled back, desperately trying to escape the sight of what she’d done.

  “My lovely,” Ransford said, a note of relief in his voice. “I feared you were going to attack me for a moment.”

  Shaking her head, she dismissed the notifications crowding her vision and forced herself to focus on her current situation. The fight wasn’t over yet, and she still had to deal with Ransford—an immortal vampire who vastly outleveled her.

  Should she activate [Demonic Fury] again? It had given her tremendous power, but she’d also lost herself to it. What if she attacked Alfred and the others by accident?

  Unfortunately, she didn’t have the luxury of time to debate the pros and cons of her new skill. She vaguely recalled the man saying Ethel and Ophelia were still alive. But if that was true, they probably wouldn’t last much longer unless they received first aid. There was a lot of blood pooling around them. Which meant she had to figure out a way to deal with Ransford and fast.

  Taking a deep breath, she activated [Demonic Fury]. Nothing happened. She frowned and tried again. Still nothing. The skill must have a cooldown. A sense of dread crept up her spine as she realized she would have to deal with Ransford using only her class.

  Why didn’t I go for the most dangerous attacker first?

  As the Blood Lord flicked his reins and his horse trotted forward, she cast [Veil of Lies] to hide herself behind a wall of illusion. She spun around on the balls of her feet and raced away. If she ran straight back—keeping the narrow wall of illusion between them—Ransford shouldn’t be able to see her.

  She just needed to reach the barn and recover her weapon. Maybe her legendary longbow, Gorebark, could do something against the vampire.

  Ransford guffawed, slapping his knee. “I must admit, you had me worried for a bit. After all of that, you’re nothing but a common illusionist? How did you pull off the attacks against my men? Did you hit him with a shovel and make it look like you broke his arm? What wonderful trickery. Did the other poor fool tussle with an angry bull instead of you? This is so delightfully humorous.”

  The vampire’s words barely registered as she sprinted away, careful to keep the narrow barrier of illusion between herself and her attacker. Once she reached the edge of the barn, she recast [Veil of Lies] to shield her new position from sight.

  After another ten metres, she repeated her spell, her mana quickly draining. But she’d reached the entrance to the barn unseen, where she kept her most prized possessions. Racing inside, she darted across the open space until she reached the rafter where she’d stashed her stuff.

  Piper reached up, groping around until her fingers brushed her longbow. She pulled it down, unwrapping the linen from around the demon’s mouth. Then she reached up and grabbed her quiver, followed by the aetherstone. Apparently, you could pull mana from the stone—not that she had any idea how to do it.

  Gorebark glared at her out of the corner of its eye. “It’s about time,” it complained. “How would you like it if I stuffed you in a roof somewhere for a few months? You know what? Maybe I will do that to you.”

  “Shut up,” she whispered harshly. “I’m being hunted by a vampire lord.”

  “Oh… that’s fun,” Gorebark said. “I hope he tortures you for what you did to me. Really nasty stuff, too. Like pulling out your claws and branding you with a hot iron.”

  Piper did her best to ignore the demonic bow’s words as she attached the quiver to her belt and then stuffed the aetherstone into her pouch. The material of her pouch felt soggy with blood, but she tried not to think about the massacre outside. Her stomach was still doing flip-flops.

  Moving over to the door, she strung the bowstring as she watched Ransford leisurely riding around the farm. Didn’t anything bother him? He’d just watched two of his men die, and a third didn’t look long for this world. Did she have any hope of beating him?

  A small part of her wanted to run and save herself. But she couldn’t leave the others behind. After giving her a home and treating her like a daughter, she owed them everything. She would save them or die trying.

  Glancing down at the bow, she nocked an arrow. “What can you do?”

  “Oh, now you want to know?” Gorebark asked, its wooden eyes narrowing. “Maybe I should just call out to the vampire lord and let him know that you’re here. It would serve you right.”

  “But then you’d never get a chance to help me take over this world,” she lied. “Isn’t that what you want?”

  Gorebark’s carved wooden eyes grew large, and his mouth dropped open. “More than anything,” he whispered. “Are we really going to take over the world?”

  “Yes,” she said hurriedly. “Now, what can you do?”

  “Not much,” Gorebark replied flippantly. “Maybe you should have been leveling me up like I said. I bet you’re not feeling too smart hiding me in the roof now, huh?”

  “What can you do?” she hissed. “Tell me!”

  “At level 1, the only skill I have is [Mark of the Damned]. If you hit a target with three arrows, the final one detonates the mark, doing some pretty massive magic damage.”

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  She furrowed her brow. Would she be able to get off three arrows before Ransford was on top of her? He was mounted on a warhorse and would simply ride her down after her first shot. Even if she used her [Veil of Lies] to hide herself, he would simply gallop in the direction of the loosed arrow until he found her hiding spot.

  She glanced at the roof of the barn, and a plan began to form in her mind. Ransford wouldn’t be able to ride her down if he couldn’t reach her.

  Slinging the bow across her back, she reached up to grab one of the rafters. She was surprised at how easily she was able to pull herself up. In her old life, she never would have been able to do a chin-up.

  Once she was in the rafters, she crawled across the beams until she reached the corner of the barn. She then used her claws to tear a hole through the thatch. Casting [Veil of Lies] to cover her movements, she wiggled out onto the rooftop. Her bow caught a few times, but she managed to squeeze herself through.

  Finally in position, she unslung her bow and nocked an arrow. As she did, she kept an eye on Ransford. He was cantering around the buildings, singing a song she didn’t recognize. The bastard was enjoying this. Hopefully, he wouldn’t enjoy it for much longer.

  I’m so going to die, she thought to herself. Who am I kidding? I can’t beat an immortal vampire lord.

  Piper took a deep breath to steady herself and pushed down her negative thoughts. She was going to succeed because she had no other choice. She was going to save the others.

  She waited until the blood lord reached the far side of the burning longhouse before she loosed her first shot. The arrow soared through the air, striking the center of his breastplate, and then deflecting off. For some reason, he hadn’t used the strange tendril of blood that had intercepted her earlier arrows. Did his skill have a cooldown, too?

  Ransford swung around on his horse and galloped in her direction. The horses’ wide strides quickly ate up the ground between them.

  Rapidly nocking a second arrow, she released and cursed as it went wide. It was hard to hit a moving target. The third arrow struck his arm, sinking in between the plates of armor. She even heard a grunt of pain from the man.

  She aimed her next arrow carefully, as Ransford drew his longsword. The blade hissed as it emerged from its scabbard, the blade seemingly drinking in the light.

  Great, she thought to herself. He’s got a magical sword.

  Trying to avoid thinking about the scary-looking sword—and how close Ransford was getting to her—she loosed again, only for him to knock the arrow aside with his weapon.

  Darn it! Why didn’t that count as a hit?

  Piper hurriedly drew another arrow from her quiver and nocked it. The moment she had it on the bow, Ransford stood up on his galloping horse, like some kind of trick rider. Was he going to try to leap up onto the roof from his saddle?

  She released as the vampire jumped into the air, the arrow slamming into the center of the Blood Lord’s chest. The following boom nearly deafened her, and then a concussion wave sent her flying. She skidded along the rooftop before coming to a stop near the peak. When she tried to sit up, the surrounding world tilted and spun.

  After a few seconds, she was able to push herself up into a sitting position. Shaking her head, she scrambled forward to see what had happened to Ransford. At first, she couldn’t see him. Then she spotted him near the edge of the forest lying in a crater. The bow’s ability [Mark of the Damned] had sent him flying nearly ten metres, and the impact had driven him into the soft earth.

  For a second, elation flooded her veins. Then she saw the lord stumble to his feet. His breastplate was dented, and the leather straps smouldered. But he was very much alive.

  She felt hopelessness seeping into her mind. How could she kill someone so much powerful than her? She was going to fail, and everyone she cared about was going to die.

  Piper nocked another arrow with grim determination. At least she’d go down fighting. However, Ransford didn’t head back in her direction. Instead, he took off running.

  Is he running away? Did I win?

  Then she realized he was heading toward Alfred. During the battle, the big man had dragged himself toward the longhouse, leaving a trail of blood behind him. He had reached his family’s side while she’d been busy fighting Ransford.

  She tried to aim for another shot, but the blood lord had already reached Alfred. She could only watch helplessly as Ransford grabbed the big man and yanked him to his feet.

  Ransford placed the blade of his longsword against Alfred’s throat. “Enough!” he roared. “I have grown tired of your foolishness. Submit and let me drink my fill, or I will make you watch as I murder your entire family.”

  Piper froze and lowered her bow. If she tried to do anything, Ransford would kill Alfred. And then he’d probably move on to Ethel and Piper as well. But if she did nothing, then he’d probably kill them, anyway.

  As her mind raced, a crazy idea occurred to her. She remembered her encounter with the ooze and her healing afterward. Maybe she should give Ransford what he wanted. That might solve all of her problems. Assuming her plan actually worked.

  Stuffing the arrow back into her quiver, she tossed Gorebark aside.

  “Hey!” the bow grunted as it landed on the roof’s thatch. “Watch what you’re doing!”

  She lowered herself from the barn’s eaves and then dropped to the ground. She began to walk forward, pulling down her dress to expose her neck. Though she had committed to the plan, her knees felt weak, and her mouth was parched. If this didn’t work, she was as good as dead. “Is… this what you want?”

  “Oh yes…” Ransford released Alfred and lifted the visor of his helmet. His eyelids were heavy with desire. “You’re so young and untouched. Your blood will be so delicious.”

  “No, Piper,” Alfred muttered weakly. “Please, no…”

  “It’s alright,” she said comfortingly. “I’m happy to give myself to our new lord.”

  “All of this unpleasantness could have been avoided if you had accepted your fate before,” Ransford said, licking his lips. “Livestock should know their place.”

  Piper stopped in front of him, holding her neckline down, her head angled to the side. “If you want me, come and get me.”

  “No tricks?”

  She shook her head. “No tricks.”

  The blood lord dropped Alfred and rushed forward. His mouth opened, and fangs like a snake emerged from his gums. Then he froze, his nose wrinkling. “Did you think you could make yourself unpalatable to me with your scent?”

  “My scent…?”

  “I don’t care what spell you cast to make yourself smell inhuman, but it won’t save you.” Ransford grabbed her hair, making her gasp, and then sank his teeth deeply into her neck. He gulped down her hot blood, letting out little moans of pleasure.

  Piper squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for her moment. After a second, she heard Ransford sputtering. This was followed by gurgling.

  Opening her eyes, she saw his face twisting with horror. He tried to push her away, but she reached up and grabbed the back of his head, keeping his fangs embedded in her neck. She activated [Demonic Blood]. Her flesh and blood glowed like molten metal as she felt a terrible heat building inside her torso.

  As the heat intensified, she dropped her spell [False Face] and [Truth Shroud], exposing her true demonic self. At her reveal, the vampire’s eyes widened with terror. “What’s wrong?” she hissed, every drop of hatred she had for this man bubbling to the surface. “Don’t you still want me?”

  Ransford’s gurgles turned to muffled shrieks, and he fought like a wild animal as he tried to escape. But she clung to him as if she were drifting in the center of the ocean, and he were the last piece of flotsam. Her blood in his mouth turned to lava from her skill, igniting his flesh.

  Only when his entire head was in flames did she release him and sag to the ground. She felt the holes in her neck healing shut as Ransford stumbled around, slapping at his face in a vain attempt to extinguish the flames. His skin melted away, exposing bone, and his hair ignited like a torch. After a few seconds, his head was a blackened husk within his helmet.

  But instead of collapsing to the ground like she expected, the Blood Lord turned and with supernatural swiftness darted away. She fumbled for the knife on her belt, but by the time she drew it, Ransford had disappeared into the tree line.

  She was left kneeling in front of the burning longhouse, a knife held limply in her hand. Ransford had escaped and would probably return for vengeance.

  To make matters worse, everyone she cared about was seriously wounded. And she had no idea how to help them.