In the middle of the cemetery, the cold air seemed to press down on Rex's shoulders. Death lunged suddenly, the scythe sweeping in na arc toward his back. Rex threw himself aside, and the blade sliced two zombies clean in half, scattering bones and soil.
He spun on his heels, the sword gleaming under the moonlight, and charged at Death. The blade passed within a hair's breadth of her face… and cleaved through the skull of a zombie that had just appeared behind her. Rex yanked the sword free, tearing the creature's head off, and without missing a beat kept cutting down other undead that closed in.
"That doesn't feel a bit like… killing them twice?" Rex asked with a grin, spinning his sword as he cut a path through the creatures.
"By destroying them, we release the souls that were being controlled," Death answered, twirling the scythe with almost elegant precision. "You need to reach the necromancer witch."
"And what do you think I'm doing? Taking a midnight stroll?" Rex shot back, weaving between zombies and cutting them down with swift movements.
Death extended her hand and a portal of shadows opened beside them, pulsing like a black heart. Rex took a quick look around, cleaved through two zombies with a sweeping strike, and dove into the portal.
Na instant later, he emerged behind the necromancer. The disheveled-haired woman turned her head, startled, just as Rex's sword came down in a precise strike. But her staff shot up, and with a crackle of foul energy, a zombie appeared in front of her as a shield. The blade split the rotten skull, but did not reach the target.
Rex tore the sword free and, without pause, drew both pistols, firing rapid shots as he advanced. The necromancer raised her hand, and more dead rose in masses, their decaying bodies intercepting the bullets.
"Tsk… you're slipperier than you look." Rex spun the pistols and holstered them, yanking his sword back from the zombie's corpse.
Death appeared at his side, scythe raised. The two took up fighting stances, side by side: she with legs braced and the curved blade ready to strike, he gripping his sword with both hands, that crooked grin returning to his face.
"Let me just ask," Rex said without taking his eyes off the witch. "Can't you just… I don't know, pull her soul out and be done with it?"
"Good question," Death replied, her voice calm as a whisper among graves. "But how do you take the soul of someone who sold hers long ago and uses black magic to tether herself to this world?"
"You're Death… I figured that was part of your service package."
"I am a neutral entity," she explained. "I only guide souls. I do not decide who lives or dies."
Rex huffed, adjusting his grip on the sword.
"Perfect… so it's all on me then." A wide smile spread across his face. "But if I can catch her off guard, this might actually be fun."
Death's fingers moved lightly along the shaft of her scythe as she gave a slight nod.
"That's your best chance."
"Then it's a deal." Rex's eyes gleamed with that dangerous amusement only he could carry. "Let's dance, little witch."
Death raised the scythe, and four portals of shadow opened around the necromancer. A fifth portal bloomed before Rex, the darkness pulsing as if alive.
The hunter didn't hesitate: he dove into the portal, vanishing into nothingness.
The necromancer's gaze darted between the black rifts, her hand clenched tight on her staff. Her deformed face was tense, alert to the slightest movement. But the portals revealed nothing; they were pits of absolute darkness.
Then she felt—more than saw—Rex's presence. She spun, eyes wide, just as he burst from a portal, sword raised, ready to cleave her in two.
She raised her staff instinctively. The clash between them rang out like muffled thunder, a surge of energy rippling through the air and illuminating the graves around them. Death didn't waste a second: she slid through shadow and lunged, the scythe poised to reap.
The necromancer sensed it in time and tried to summon more dead to shield her. But her focus split for na instant—and that was all Rex needed.
With his free hand, he drew his pistol from under his coat and fired.
The gunshot cracked through the night like a thunderclap.
The witch's eyes widened in shock at the sound—just in time to see the bullet pierce her forehead.
A grin spread across Rex's face as she toppled backward, her eyes draining of life.
The zombies, like puppets with their strings cut, collapsed to the ground, returning to their eternal rest. Rex spun in midair, landed firmly on his feet, slid his sword onto his back, and holstered the pistol inside his coat.
"Another one for the collection," he said, adjusting the collar of his white coat.
"Well done, hunter," Death replied, resting the scythe on her shoulder.
"Right back at you." Rex cast a glance at the mausoleum at the center of the cemetery, a grim structure wrapped in mist. "Time to find out where the bloodsuckers are hiding."
"You're heading to the mausoleum?" Death asked, following his gaze.
"Yeah." Rex began walking, unhurried, as if strolling to a regular bar.
"Consider this… a payment for helping me," Death said.
"Huh?"
A portal opened beneath Rex's feet. He had no time to react as he plunged into the darkness, letting out a muffled curse.
The next portal opened in front of the mausoleum, spitting Rex out onto the ground with a harsh thud. He landed face‑down, feeling dust and gravel scraping against his coat.
"Thanks a lot, Death… real gentle ride," Rex muttered, standing and brushing off his white coat with a huff.
The mausoleum loomed ahead, a massive stone structure with a pointed roof. Deformed gargoyles glared down from above, and the rusty iron gate was sealed with na old chain.
Rex cracked his neck, stepped back, and delivered a solid kick. The gate burst open with a metallic crash, slamming against the inner walls. The sound echoed like a shriek, stirring a storm of bats that erupted into flight, brushing past his face.
"Love the hospitality," he murmured, stepping inside as if crossing the threshold of a tavern. His silver eyes scanned the darkness with sharp focus.
Death emerged from the ground beside him, resting her scythe against the stone.
"Found anything?"
"There was supposed to be a gathering of vampires here…" Rex scratched his chin, watching the shadows dance between the tombs. "Was the intel wrong?"
He narrowed his eyes, that crooked smile returning.
"Or are they just waiting for the perfect moment to give me a proper welcome?"
Rex's eyes swept over the damp, cold walls of the mausoleum. Amid the moss and cracks, something caught his attention: a small protruding stone, its edges worn from use. He stepped closer, ran his fingers over it, and with a sly grin, pressed the hidden switch.
BAM!
The ground rumbled softly. Ahead, a stone slab shifted with a metallic groan, revealing a narrow, dark opening. Black stairs led downward into the depths.
"Ah, classic. Who doesn't love a good secret entrance?" Rex muttered, adjusting his coat as he began the descent.
Death followed silently, the scythe resting against her back, the blade catching what little light remained. Rex grabbed a torch from the left wall and flicked his lighter; the flame danced in the gloom, casting long, twisted shadows on the stone.
Step by step, the smell of damp earth and ancient dust thickened. The silence was heavy, broken only by the sound of their footsteps and the faint crackle of fire. When the hunter reached the last step, he stopped.
The space ahead was… empty. No coffins, no symbols, no vampires plotting in some corner. Only the echo of nothingness and the cold scent of stone.
Rex let out a heavy sigh and rubbed the back of his neck.
"Back to square one… fantastic."
"Who exactly are you after?" Death asked, her calm voice reverberating through the chamber.
"A vampire. Morgana." Rex leaned on his sword, irritation creeping into his tone.
"Ah… Morgana." Death arched a brow, as if recalling something distant. "She doesn't hold meetings in cemeteries."
Rex turned slowly, fixing his gaze on her.
"And only now you tell me that?!"
"You only mentioned her name just now," Death said, a trace of irony in her voice.
"Tsk…" Rex spun on his heel, climbing the steps with heavy strides. "What a damn waste of time."
When he emerged back at the surface, the first light of dawn was already painting the horizon orange. The chill of the night was starting to fade, and birds sang in the distance. Death lingered in the shadows, watching him walk out through the cemetery's broken gate. Rex raised a hand in a quick, almost careless wave. Death answered with a soft smile before vanishing into the darkness.
[...]
In the center of the city, Rex stepped into the hunters' bar with a lazy yawn. The scent of fresh coffee mingled with old wood and gunpowder. The place was nearly empty at that hour. Maeve, the bartender with short brown hair and sharp eyes, broke into a smile as she watched him sit at the counter. She folded her arms over her apron, leaning on the wood.
"Tough night, Rex?" she asked with a teasing tone.
"Shut your trap, Maeve." Rex rested his chin on his hand, exhausted. "Spent the whole night chasing a supposed vampire meeting… only to find out there wasn't even a damn cockroach alive in there."
Maeve raised na eyebrow, leaning over the counter, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"You're after Morgana, aren't you?"
"If this lead's bogus too, I swear I'll smack you on the ass," Rex said, half serious, half joking, as he stirred the glass of water Maeve had just set in front of him.
Maeve let out a small laugh.
"I heard some vampires hang out at a nightclub on 13th Street. Heavy crowd—they say Morgana herself shows up there sometimes."
Rex arched na eyebrow, a crooked grin spreading across his face.
"Vampires… vibing to electronic music? That's rich. You're kidding me, right?"
"They're just rumors. But…" Maeve leaned closer, lowering her voice. "I've also heard something bigger is brewing."
Rex sighed.
"Golden Mouth said something like that too… a war between werewolves and vampires."
"A lot of hunters are after that werewolf… but you've got your eyes on Morgana," Maeve remarked, leaning on the counter. "Most are too scared to mess with vampires."
"Times have changed, sweetheart." Rex twirled the empty glass between his fingers. "One well‑placed holy bullet solves the problem."
"So what's your plan now?" Maeve narrowed her eyes, intrigued.
"Any lead helps." Rex dropped a few coins on the counter with a metallic clink and stood, adjusting his coat. "I'm gonna check out that nightclub. Hopefully they play rock."
He gave a lazy wave and headed out, the door creaking behind him.
Night fell like a heavy mantle over the city. 13th Street was drowned in flashing neon, the facades of abandoned buildings blending with corner bars. The distant thump of electronic music reverberated through the ground as Rex approached the nightclub, hands in his pockets, his gaze cold.
The bouncer—a massive man with crossed arms and a smug grin—looked Rex up and down before checking the clipboard in his hands.
"Name?" he asked flatly.
"Rex. Rex Helsing," he replied with a half‑smile.
The bouncer let out a short laugh.
"Sorry, you're not on the list."
Rex arched na eyebrow, stepped closer, and before the man could react, landed a right hook square on his jaw. The bouncer collapsed, the clipboard spinning through the air. Rex caught it mid‑flight along with the pen, scrawled his own name on the list, and tossed the clipboard back onto the fallen man.
"Now I am," he said with a crooked grin as he strode past the unconscious bouncer and slipped into the entrance as if he owned the place.
Inside, the nightclub throbbed with life. Colorful lights spun frantically, the deep bass of the electronic music made the floor vibrate. The smell of cheap perfume and alcohol mixed with the sweat of the crowd. Rex walked across the dance floor, weaving through moving bodies, scanning everything with sharp, watchful eyes.
A girl in a short dress grabbed his arm, leaning in with a provocative smile.
"Hey, handsome… looking for some company?"
Rex flashed a quick, almost friendly grin.
"Sorry, sweetheart. Rain check."
He lifted his gaze and, above the chaos, he saw her on the mezzanine—a woman with a hypnotic presence: golden‑blond hair, red eyes glowing under the black light, na elegant black dress that seemed designed to command every eye in the room. She met his stare and, with a sultry smile, blew him a kiss before slipping into the VIP room.
"Well… looks like I've got something more interesting to do," Rex muttered, letting go of the girl's arm and heading up the stairs.
He ascended slowly, slipping past couples and distracted guards, until he stopped before the VIP door. He glanced both ways, took a deep breath, and pushed it open, stepping into the elegant dimness inside.
He entered the VIP lounge and closed the door with a soft click. The scent of expensive wine and incense hung in the air, mingling with the muffled thump of the music below. Beatrice stood with her back to him, watching the crowd through tinted glass, her black dress hugging her body with na effortless grace.
"To what do I owe the visit of such na… intriguing hunter, in my humble club?" she asked without turning, her voice dripping with irony and charm.
Rex leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
"You're not a vampire. Not some folklore freak either," he said with a crooked grin. "You're… a huntress."
Beatrice turned her face toward him, a faintly amused gleam in her eyes.
"Very observant, Rex," she said, walking to a table where a wine bottle rested. "And you're right. I bought this place with my family's money. A side business. Beatrice. House…"
"Grim," Rex finished, raising na eyebrow. "The blond lot who fancy themselves vampire hunters."
She smirked, pouring two glasses of wine with precise movements.
"And you must be a Helsing…" she replied, shooting him a sharp look. "You're here for Morgana, aren't you?"
"Exactly." Rex took the glass, swirling the wine as though stirring secrets.
Beatrice stepped closer, offering him the drink. Her fingers brushed his lightly, but Rex didn't break eye contact.
"Then you're in luck," she said, glancing back down at the dance floor. "She's one of my V.I.P.s. Of course she has no idea that the one running this place is a hunter. She'll show up tonight. But tell me… you weren't on the guest list. How did you get in?"
Rex took a sip of the wine, wiped a bit of red from his lips with the back of his hand, and smirked.
"If you want a safe place, darling, I suggest you hire better security. One who doesn't drop from a single right hook."
Beatrice let out a short, elegant laugh.
"He's only human, Rex," she replied, sipping her own glass. "Humans tend to be… fragile."
She set her glass down gently on the table and turned her eyes back to the crowd below. Rex stepped closer, standing beside her, the flashing lights reflecting off his white coat.
"Think you could ask the DJ to play some decent rock?" Rex said, resting na elbow on the railing.
Beatrice let out a brief laugh, closing her eyes for a moment.
"Unfortunately, I don't usually take requests from someone who knocks out my security with a single punch."
Rex arched na eyebrow, a roguish grin spreading across his lips.
"So you're upset, is that it?"
"Why, of course I am," Beatrice answered with a cutting calm. Then, suddenly, her expression shifted. "Wait… look over there."
Rex followed her gaze. A group of men in suits was crossing the dance floor like a well-dressed shadow. In the center of them, a woman with sleek black hair cascading over her shoulders and red eyes that shone like rubies under the strobe lights. Her long red dress shimmered with every step.
"That's…" Rex began.
"Morgana," Beatrice confirmed, her voice low, as if the name was too dangerous to say aloud.
Rex let out a short, mocking laugh.
"Too beautiful to be a vampire."
Beatrice turned her face to him, a venomous smile curling her lips.
"Don't compliment another woman when you already have a beauty by your side, Helsing."
Rex raised his hands in surrender, still wearing that cynical smile.
"All right, all right. Sorry." Then his eyes fixed back on Morgana.
"But you're not going to receive your VIP client?"
"No need," Beatrice said, leaning elegantly against the table.
"I've already hired someone to handle that for me."
Rex narrowed his eyes as he noticed a figure just behind Morgana: a woman with red hair, also wearing a long burgundy dress.
"And that one behind her… who is she?" he asked, nodding in her direction.
Beatrice followed his gaze and let out a discreet chuckle.
"She's not 'she.' She's 'he.'"
Rex furrowed his brow, confused.
"Huh? What do you mean 'he'?"
"A vampire," Beatrice said casually, shrugging.
"Some of them like to play dress-up."
Rex blinked several times and looked back at Beatrice.
"You're telling me that…?"
"Crossdressing, dear," Beatrice explained with a mischievous smile.
"There are vampires who dress as women to lure men's blood more easily."
Rex let out a rough laugh, shaking his head.
"Extremely necessary information. Thanks."
Beatrice picked a peanut from a crystal bowl, tossed it into her mouth, then grabbed another, offering it to him.
"Eat up. The night promises to be long," she said, a playful sparkle in her eyes.
"Besides, hunters don't get drunk. So… let's just watch for now."
Rex shrugged off his coat and tossed it onto the sofa carelessly, moving closer to the bowl to grab some peanuts to chew. Beatrice let her gaze slide down his strong arms and smiled mockingly.
"Not bad, Helsing… not bad at all."