We set upon her as she slept, stake at the ready.
It drove into her heart, and the scream was nearly… human.
We almost lost our courage.
We didn’t. Because we couldn’t. We had work to do still.
Cut off the head, fill the mouth with garlic, and return it, face downward, to the pillow. The only way to know for sure.
We left the building, emptying a can of gasoline behind us, as the sun began to set. We set the blaze, work finally complete, and shared a private smile.
There shall be no more Twilight Books.