"Susan! Don't make me hurt you!" Milo said as he stepped in front of the others. "I know the real you has to be in there somewhere. You can still repent of your evil ways. It's never too late. Don't make it come to this!"

"Milo? Get out of the way!" Julie ordered as she pushed around me, looking for a good angle.

"You want to test your faith against me? What, do you think this is a Dracula movie or something?" Susan's dark silhouette laughed as she batted her glowing eyes. "I'm way out of your league, honey."

Milo Anderson closed his eyes and bowed his head, the lower half of his face disappearing into his bushy beard. He appeared to be praying. He did not move as Susan slowly walked toward him. Not even a tremble of fear, nothing.

"Open the gate! Hurry!" Julie pleaded. "Milo, run!"

"Dude! Get down!" Sam shouted. "Move, you idiot!"

The faithful Hunter raised his head, smiled at us and winked. "Don't worry, guys. It's going to be okay. You had better get that portal opened, 'cause it's going to get real exciting up in here." He raised one arm as if to wave good-bye.

Susan charged forward, her black shape disappearing in a blur as she surged toward Milo. He said something quickly as the vampire reached for him. There was an explosion of bright light, blinding all of us, searing right through our eyes and into our brains. I saw Milo's skeleton through the flash. Good versus evil. Light versus dark. The cavern shook and dust and rock fell from the roof. Cracks appeared in the columns. The earth shook and I was thrown backward into Julie. Susan screamed, a great and terrible wail of pure hatred and evil. Lightning crackled across the chamber, tearing up chunks of rock.

I swear that I heard Milo's voice say; "Ooh… Pretty colors."

The wights, released from their psychic bonds, charged. The ones that ran too close to the clashing powers exploded in showers of sparks and flying meat. The others were going to be on us in seconds. Julie, Sam and Holly started to shoot. Our backs were against the wall. We had nowhere to go. I kept scrambling, looking for the exit. A wight leapt over a rock formation and landed directly in front of us. Sam shot it between the eyes and then kicked it backwards, impaling the creature on a sharp rock. He holstered his now empty pistol, unable to load fast enough with one hand, and drew his massive knife. With a roar he tore into the undead, slashing and hacking, cursing and swearing. He was an amazing fighter, somehow dodging the claws and fangs, while stabbing and cutting furiously at the horde. There seemed to be hundreds of undead, black teeth extended, claws raised. They kept coming.