I took him shortly after dusk when he was blood-sated and lazy, full of himself and his own supremacy.
Vampires are tremendously strong unless you’ve thrown salt in front of them to count, and then blown them backward with large caliber slugs. I stuffed his mouth with garlic, bound him in chains, and slipped away before his friends could find us.
In the back of a truck, I chained him down, gutted him and filled his blood-soaked innards with as much garlic as I could. With him immobilized, but still moaning, I took the undead creature on a long and unpleasant journey back to my property, where I loaded him onto a boat and brought him to one of my small islands where there was little more than sand and moonlight.
Once on the island, I removed the garlic from his mouth with several well-placed rounds. When he had healed enough to talk and had finished a seemingly endless tirade of threats, I blinded him and shoved garlic into the sockets.
It took him three hours to finally talk but talk he did.
He told me of the guards at Tregaskis’ estate, both the living and the undead. He told me of Tregaskis’ promises to feed the undead well once his organization had some control over local politics. When I pressed the vampire for more information, he stated he knew nothing else.
I didn’t believe him, of course, and I told him as much. He laughed and said the night was long, and that sooner or later, he would be strong enough to attack.
He tried to speak again, but I shot him in the mouth. Again, and again, and again.
When the sun rose, it found him naked and unchained.
It left him charred and at my feet.
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