"I smell demon-flesh, a half-blood." Said the first vampire, in guttural tones. The his lycanthrope companion bayed at the moon.
"Silence, Olaf!" Snapped the second vampire, he sniffed the air, "Your right, Honorius, it is faint, but it is a half-breed." Honorius motioned for the others to follow him, then he jumped down twenty stories down the skyscraper, to the bottom ledge, then another ten stories to the ground. The others followed suit.
Mason Burr walked down the alley, stake in hand. He would take a cross, but Bazel whined, and sizzled while Mason held one. Right now though Bazel was reenacting a particularly loud death metal concert in his head.
"Is being a half-demon this hard?" Mason thought, Bazel shrugged.
"Hey, don't blame me, you keep resisting my will." Mason sighed, now why would I do that?
"Oh, hey Mase-mase, we got some undeadlies, six o'clock." Bazel said inside Mason's head. The boy tensed, ready for the vampires.
Honorius, and his team hid on top of graffitti-covered tattoo parlor, waiting for the boy-demon.
"Where are they? I want blood!" Complained Karl, the youngest of the three vampires. Honorius grabbed him by the throat, crushing his wind pipe.
"If only your blood wasn't dust." Growled the vampire leader, throwing his underling aside. "Remember, do not kill the half-demon, Lord Ruthven wants him alive, but he dosn't need his limbs does he, boys?" Karl and Nigelius both salivated and nodded. Suddenly, a cedar stake found itself an inch from Nigelius's black, shriveled heart. Honorius and Karl drew crossbows, Nigelius ripped the stake out, looking around for the attacker. A voice sounded behind them,
"Evening, ladies. Hoping to get some pretty, pink flower tattoos? Would your mother like that, or are they in rehab?" The vampires spun around, faces drawn, and fangs out. The werewolf made his claws a few inches longer and growled menacingly. Mason snatched the cedar stake from Nigelius, and plunged it through his heart, he creamed, then blew into ash. The three remaining adversaries grouped together, this would be difficult.
"Half-blood, he have been commanded by Lord Ruthven, acting regent of Rurrehallow, to take you to his court in the Underworld." Honorius stated, fingering a cudgel behind his back. Bazel took over Mason's tongue,
"Lord Ruthven of Marsden? He's regent now? Well I guess he'd get there. And now I've finally got the infamy I deserve!" Honorius groaned, "By the darkness, Bazel? Out of all the half-demons I could have met, it had to be you." And he swung the club at Mason's head. But the boy smashed it with his fist, punched Karl's heart right out, took a shard of wood and skewered Honorius's own heart. Olaf leaped at him, mouth foaming, Mason fired a silver-tipped bolt from the crossbow. The now ex-lycanthrope fell on the rooftop in a puddle of his blood.
"So what does Ruthven want with me know?" Wondered Bazel.
"OK, so I've killed plenty of vampires, but who's Ruthven?" Asked the boy. Bazel thought for a moment.
"In time you'll know, kid, but first we gotta make a trip." And with that Bazel took control of Mason's legs, and hurled the boy's body to the next rooftop, and went into the night.
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