Stiles put a hand on his shoulder. “Let me tell you about vampires. We’re not talking about Dracula here. There’s nothing romantic or seductive about them. They’re just like you saw tonight: dead bodies who refuse to die, who have to feast on the blood of the living to survive. Aside from that, it’s hard to tell where the legends stop and the bullshit starts. There’s no black capes or hypnotic gazes. They can’t change into bats or rats or fog—”

“Then how did he get out of the cellar ahead of us?” Del interrupted. “An outside door?”

“No,” Stiles told him. “The outer door was still padlocked and nailed shut.”

“Then how?”

He gave it some thought, then shrugged. “How the hell should I know? But there has to be some other way, ’cause he didn’t turn into smoke.” The boy looked skeptical. “Okay, smart-ass, answer this. If he could turn into a wisp of fog, how come he didn’t do it while I was blasting the living shit out of him?” Del pondered that long and hard, exchanged looks with Bart, and finally settled for a shrug of his own. “Boys, if they could change, I’d have seen one do it by now.”

“How much of the other stories are true?” Bart asked. “How do you stop them?”

Stiles sat down in the pilot’s seat and swiveled it around so he could talk to them. “Some of the traditional ways hold up—wooden stake, sunlight, fire, the cross—”

“No, I tried that one,” Del made a face. “The asshole just laughed at me.”

Stiles nodded. “I know, I saw you. But the cross does work, the same as holy water and wafer and the Star of David and any other religious symbol. There’s just a catch to it. Their power is only proportionate to the faith of the wielder. If you don’t believe, it doesn’t work.”

“Now hang on. I go to church every Sunday—”

“And sleep through the sermon,” said Bart. “Admit it, Cap. We both go because Mom makes us.” He looked back to Stiles. “What about decapitation?”

“Sure. And that’s where it gets interesting. If decapitation works, why not dismemberment? Hell, they’re flesh and blood, or flesh at least. They should obey the same basic physical rules as everyone else.”

“Physical rules?”

“Simple body mechanics,” Stiles explained. “If I cut off your legs, you can’t walk, right? The same goes for a vampire. Blind it, it can’t see. Destroy its mouth, it can’t bite, its knees, it can’t get around. It won’t die, but it won’t heal either. It’s dead flesh; there’s no regeneration. Whatever condition you leave them in, that’s the way they’ll stay.”