The hour is late and a light mist shrouds the headstones and statuary of the old cemetery. The night is quiet, save for the hoots of hunting owls. Eerie shapes can be discerned in the gossamer mist. Though whether they are ghostly apparitions or the more solid form of living creatures is impossible to tell. It has been a couple weeks since I revealed to Victor, Lord Drakesheath, the terrible danger that lay beneath the stones of Drakesheath Hall. We searched the underground passages and rooms with no success. Either the book we sought was removed some time past, or its hiding place was well hidden. Even an eldritch seeking spell failed to turn up a hint of the accursed book. As a precaution, the great library of the Hall was kept locked and the secret passages sealed and warded against unwanted entry. Only the master of the house and his cousin, Amalie, Lady Dalbeath, have keys to the library. I also kept an eye on the comings and goings at Wyvern Tower. There is an unwholesome atmosphere about that place; a sign to me that my Ancient Enemy has his hand in whatever is being plotted there. Nor have I seen Artemis since she entered the ancient tower. What is her role in all that is going on? I shake my head, at a loss for explanations. Only time will tell. And a watchful eye. Things have been quiet for too long. I believe it is time for me to visit the old tower and see for myself what is occurring behind its stony walls. My silent musings are interrupted by the sound of running feet and lungs gasping for breath. I stop beside a towering angel, her head bowed in contemplation of the grave at her feet. Sheltered by her shadow, I watch as two figures form from the mist. They stop suddenly, looking back over their path. I can dimly see another figure looming, slowing as it nears the two. There is a deadly menace in the lurking figure as it draws closer. Warnings and threats pass back and forth between the three. I quickly discern that the two I first saw were caught spying on the third. I sense that the young man is human, though his female companion is a vampire, though one who has not seen even her first decade of undead life. The creature they face, though, is a powerful vampire, seasoned by many centuries and confident in his power. There is something else about him, too. A darkness even darker than his kind normally exude. I have a sudden desire to learn more about him. Then, in seconds, my chance is gone. The dark creature leaps forward, knocking the man to his knees and grabbing him. His intention is clear. He will kill this man before turning on the young vampire and killing her. Before he can sink his terrible fangs into the pulsating throat of the dazed man, the woman leaps forward, thrusting herself between the two. The killer doesn't care which he takes first and he sinks his teeth into her pro-offered throat. As he feeds, she grabs a crucifix which her companion had dropped and thrust it into the mouth of the vampire. They scream in agony as the crucifix burns them both. The older vampire falls, tossing and gasping in a paroxysm of agony. I watch emotionless as he dies, burned to ashes. My attention now turns to the survivors. The two people sit near each other and a silence settles over them. I step out from the shadows and speak, my voice echoing slightly. “Perhaps I can be of some assistance?”