Free King Carrion by Rich Hawkins

its skull.
         The vampire shrieked. The blade snapped in Mason’s hand as the vampire jerked to one side. He took hold of the female’s hair and pulled her away from Ellie, who just stared up at him, moving her mouth silently. He pushed the creature to the floor and dropped what remained of the knife. He raised the hammer.
         The female vampire struggled around on hand and knee, shaking its head and pawing at its skull as it made a low keening. Thrashing claws slashed strips from the carpet.
         Mason stood back from the wounded thing. Ellie scrambled to her feet and leaned against the nearest wall, out of the vampire’s reach.
         “Kill it,” Ellie said; her voice little more than a whisper.
         Mason said nothing as he stepped forward and brought the hammer down again and again, until the vampire’s head was a pulped bowl of hair, splintered bone and the remains of its shrivelled and blackened brain. And once he was done he staggered away to the other side of the room and bent over and vomited a weak pale gruel onto the floor. Coughing and retching until his throat was sore and his stomach was empty.
         When he stood and turned around to face Ellie, she had backed away to one corner of the room. Her upper body was hidden in shadow. She was sobbing quietly, clutching her right hand to her left shoulder.
         Mason picked up his torch and turned it upon her. She flinched from the light, reluctant to raise her face to him. And when she finally did, her eyes were bloodshot and glistening with tears. Her mouth trembling at one side as she spoke. Her voice was sad and pained.
         “I’m sorry, Mason.”
         “Why?”
         She lowered her hand from her shoulder. Held out her palm, all wet and red. Wincing, she exposed to the torchlight the wound in her shoulder. A bite wound. Blood soaked the fabric around it. “Fucking bitch.” The words came out in a tired drawl. “Does this mean I’ll become one of them?”
         “I don’t know,” he said.
         She shivered. “I think I can feel it inside me.”
         “Don’t say that. You’ll be okay.”
         She tried to smile. “I don’t think it’ll be okay, Mason.” She hunched over and spat blood on the floor. Coughed and spluttered. She straightened, wiped her mouth, and studied the blood on her hand. The look in her eyes was something between curiosity and disgust. Then she raised her face to him, and a shudder passed through her body.
         Mason couldn’t speak. The room narrowed until it was just them amidst the thick darkness that curtained them like a black fog. His stomach quivered. His throat tightened and he had to concentrate just to keep his legs from giving way beneath him. He stood against the wall, shaking his head, whispering her name.
         Ellie clasped her head with both hands and screamed. She began to convulse, backing against the wall and arching her spine to open her mouth towards the ceiling. When she screamed again, such was the agony and raw resonance in her voice that it sounded inhuman.
         She collapsed to the floor, slumped in a crouching position, head bowed to her chest.
         “Ellie?” Mason took one step towards her. Held out his hand to her.
         A slow movement of her head, swaying to one side then back again. Her whispering mouth. A movement in her throat.
         Mason was about to take another step when Ellie looked up at him. And his heart faltered and almost stopped when he saw her face and her teeth and the hunger in her eyes. A feeling like hands squeezing his chest. He let out a sob and shook his head, trying to deny it all and pretend everything was okay.
         “Ellie…” His voice no more than a breath formed into her name.
         Her skin was like porcelain and threaded with red veins. She rose from the floor and stood facing him as he stepped back. With a note of caution she regarded the hammer in