Eph stared. This thing was like a demon that had devoured the man named Ansel Barbour and half-assumed his form.

“It was him.”

“Somebody caught it,” said Nora. “Chained it here. Locked it away.”

“No,” said Setrakian. “He chained himself.”

Eph then understood. How the wife had been spared, and the children.

“Stay back,” warned Setrakian. And just then the vampire opened its mouth and struck, the stinger lashing out at Setrakian. The old man did not flinch, as the vampire did not have the reach, despite his stinger being many feet long. It retracted in failure, the disgusting outgrowth drooping just past the vampire’s chin, flicking around its open mouth like the blind pink feeler of some deep-sea creature.

Eph said, “Jesus God…”

The vampire Barbour turned feral. It backed up on its haunches, hissing at them. The unbelievable sight shocked Eph into remembering Zack’s camera in his pocket, and he handed Nora his lamp, taking out the recorder.

“What are you doing?” asked Nora.

He fumbled on the power, capturing this thing in the viewfinder. Then, with his other hand, he switched off the safety on his nail gun and aimed it at the beast.

Snap-chunk. Snap-chunk. Snap-chunk.

Eph fired three silver needles from his nail gun, the long-barreled tool bucking with recoil. The projectiles ripped into the vampire, burning into his diseased muscle, bringing forth a hoarse howl of pain that tipped him forward.

Eph kept recording.

“Enough,” said Setrakian. “Let us remain merciful.”

The beast’s neck extended as he strained from the pain. Setrakian repeated his refrain about his singing sword—and then swung right through the vampire’s neck. The body collapsed, arms and legs shivering. The head rolled to a stop, eyes blinking a few times, the stinger flailing like a cut snake, then going still. Hot white effluent bled out of the trunk of the neck, steaming faintly into the cool night air. The capillary worms slithered into the dirt, like rats fleeing a sinking ship, looking for a new vessel.

Nora caught whatever sort of cry was rising in her throat with a hand clamped fast over her open mouth.

Eph stared, revolted, forgetting to look through the viewfinder.

Setrakian stepped back, sword pointed down, white spatter steaming off the silver blade, dripping to the grass. “In the back there. Under the wall.”

Eph saw a hole dug beneath the rear of the shed.

“Something else was in here with him,” said the old man. “Something crawled out, escaped.”

Houses lined the street on either side. It could be in any one of them. “But no sign of the Master.”

Setrakian shook his head. “Not here. Maybe the next.”

Eph looked deep into the shed, trying to make out the blood worms in the light of Nora’s lamps. “Should I go in and irradiate them?”

“There is a safer way. That red can on the back shelf?”

Eph looked. “The gasoline can?”