"Ugh… sometimes I think you only adopted me two years ago because you needed a little slave!" Chris Valakis grumbles.
It's already pitch dark as he struggles through the last few meters toward the small apartment on the outskirts of New York.
He's loaded like a mule, dragging two grocery bags in each hand, filled to the brim.
"Stop complaining. You should be thanking me — I'm turning you into the perfect husband. My future daughter-in-law will be grateful," Isabelle retorts, blowing a stream of cigarette smoke from her lips.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm sure she'll build a statue in your honor…"
At that moment, a strong gust of wind ruffles Isabelle's long platinum hair — lifting her coat and skirt just enough to reveal, for an instant, the thin red lace thong underneath.
And Chris, walking right behind her, has neither the reflexes nor — much less — the intention to stop his eyes from landing exactly there.
Isabelle may be a slave driver, but she's seriously hot! Not to mention that insane ass of hers! It's so firm and athletic you'd never guess she works as a cleaning lady — it looks more like a volleyball player's!
Chris mentally slaps himself.
Oh, come on, I seriously need to get a grip! That's my stepmom I'm talking about!
Isabelle casts Chris a quick, sly glance.
"Ah, this naughty wind… It's such a blessing that this area is completely deserted at night. If someone had seen me like that, it would've been quite embarrassing, wouldn't it?"
"What are you talking about? Did something happen?"
Chris plays dumb, and Isabelle snickers under her breath — a small smile he can't see from behind her.
"Oh, nothing interesting, apparently. Anyway, what do you feel like eating tonight? You've been my pack mule all afternoon, so you at least deserve a proper dinner."
"I'd say a nice fish burger with fries, but Mia doesn't like it, so you choose — I don't care."
"Oh, don't worry about that — Mia's out to dinner with her volleyball team tonight. Fish burger and fries it is."
But suddenly, Isabelle stops dead in her tracks.
"Shit…" she hisses nervously, tossing her cigarette to the ground and crushing it under her heel.
Chris doesn't even have time to understand what caused the sudden shift in his stepmom's mood before dozens of green magic circles appear on the asphalt all around them.
An instant later, a column of luminous energy rises from each circle, and when the light fades, dozens of goblins surround Isabelle and Chris.
The creatures wield long daggers and wear leather armor — all except one, who wears a long tunic and holds a staff.
"T-This… is a rehearsal for Halloween, right? A-Any second now they'll ask for trick or treat… right, Isabelle?" Chris stammers, shaken.
"No, Chris. I don't think that's why they're here."
"Where is the princess?! Tell me and I'll spare your life, vampire," the robed goblin threatens.
V-Vampire… why did he call Isabelle that? W-Who the fuck are these freaks dressed up as monsters? And who the hell is this princess they're talking about…? Shit, I think I'm about to pass out!
"Clearly you don't know who I am, otherwise you'd think twice before speaking to me like that, you stupid goblin mage."
"I don't know, and I don't care. My magic tells me you're a vampire, and since the princess is hiding in this city, it's obvious you're working with her. I won't repeat myself — or I'll kill you both!"
"You're not the first mercenary squad to show up demanding the princess's head, and I'm afraid you won't be the last. But it doesn't matter — you'll meet the same end as the others who tried."
Chris's already fragile sanity shatters as a violent vortex of blood-colored energy begins swirling around Isabelle. He sees her extend her arm to the side, and an enormous sword of solid blood forms in her grasp.
The crimson storm enveloping her is so intense it cracks the asphalt beneath her feet.
All the goblins — including the robed one — are nearly swept away by the mere release of her mana.
"Chris. Stay where you are. I'll handle this in a second, and later I'll explain everything."
He merely nods in silence.
"Do you think you can intimidate us with that? Attack!"
At the robed goblin's command, dozens of armed goblins hurl themselves at Isabelle.
They last as long as dry leaves in a hurricane.
With every swing of her massive blood blade, torn bodies are sent flying.
It's a massacre unfolding before the horrified eyes of both Chris and the goblin mage — though their fear comes from very different places.
Barely a second after the robed goblin gives the order, the entire mercenary squad is already wiped out.
"H-How is this possible…? I wasn't told someone this powerful was with the princess! Who the fuck are you, you damned vampire?!"
"Who I am doesn't matter…"
Isabelle points the blade at the goblin.
"…now, you die."
"No! I… I will destroy you, damned vampire!"
A green beam erupts from the tip of his staff and shoots toward Isabelle, but she dispels it with a single swing. In the next instant, she dashes forward and cleaves the mage with a strike so swift he dies without even realizing what happened.
The raging crimson vortex fades away, along with the blood sword.
"Well, Chris, I suppose I owe you some explanations—"
But a scream of rage and despair cuts her off before she can finish.
Chris lies on the ground in a pool of blood, a large dagger buried in his back.
Beside him lies the corpse of one of the goblins who, in a final desperate spasm, managed to stab him from behind.