Vampire Slayer

Hector readied his weapons: sword and knife, electroplated with silver; sawed-off shotgun; revolver, silver-tipped bullets; grenades and vials of holy water.

“We must be swift,” he said, “and decisive. Give no quarter, for you will be given none.”

They burst through the door. The interior smelled of rotten meat and old blood. The hunched form in the back reared at the sound, blood dripping from its fangs.

Afterward, Tristan noticed Hector weeping quietly. “Do you pity the dead?”

“You do not understand,” said Hector. “He was the last. The world is safer, now.” A pause. “And diminished,” he finished quietly.