There was movement high above him. Something was clinging to the brick wall. Vampires loved to strike from unexpected angles. He moved one hand inside his shirt and took hold of the sharpened stake tucked into his belt. “That’ll do.”

“Timing is everything.”

“It always is,” Gutterres answered as the vampire dropped soundlessly from its perch. Gutterres spun around and drove the stake upward with all his might. The point slammed through the creature’s sternum before the weight landed on Gutterres’ upraised arms, knocking him back into the garbage and filth.

He did a shoulder roll and came back up in an instant, drawing his pistol, but the vampire could do nothing but hiss and twitch as thick ooze spurted from the hole in its chest. The entry wound was lower than he’d hoped, but part of the heart had still been pierced, and it was enough to immobilize the beast. As long as a stake was through its heart, it was mostly powerless, and that was what mattered.

Gutterres found the blue light of his phone in the garbage, picked it up, and brushed it off. “I’m sorry. I missed that last part.”

“There is a complication. A bounty of two hundred and fifty million American dollars has been placed on Franks’ head. You will not be the only one looking for him.”

“Wow . . . That’s crazy,” he said as the vampire reached for him. Gutterres stomped on its hand. It let out a screech.

“Our organization is not exactly hurting for money, but we will not turn down any funds.”

“His Holiness could use that to buy a new Popemobile.”

“What?”

“I was kidding, Monsignor. Send me all the information we have on Franks.” He would need something to read anyway, because that was one long flight. The vampire stretched out one claw, trying to grab his shoe again so Gutterres kicked it in the face. “I’ll take care of Franks.”

“God bless you, my son.” The call ended.

Gutterres turned back to the fallen vampire. It was trying to pull the stake out, but he’d finish it off long before it would have the chance. There was a sound from the far end of the alley. Someone had just thrown the tin can back his way. He scanned the darkness as the rattling can came to a stop at his feet. Two pairs of red eyes were watching him from behind a dumpster. The vampire hadn’t been alone after all. “Stop right there, fiends.”

“Who are you to demand anything of us?” one of the young vampires whispered in Cantonese.

“I am a Knight of the Secret Guard of the Blessed Order of St. Hubert the Protector.” Gutterres pulled a simple wooden cross from his pocket and held it up. “And I am here to cast you from this world.”

They did not cringe at the sign of the cross. “That thing means nothing to us.”