Free Dawn Thompson by Blood Moon

the pistol spun out of his hand and landed several yards off in a patch of tall grass and prickly thistles.
    “Fool!” Sebastian gloated. “Did you think you could escape me?”
    Jon backed toward the woods—anything to put distance between them and the cottage, and Cassandra waiting there unaware. Calling upon his keen senses, he sniffed the air and employed his night vision. No, there was no other entity near. Sebastian was evidently acting alone, and Jon continued to back into the forest, a close eye upon the vampire advancing.
    All at once, the creature disappeared. In an instant he reappeared behind Jon, laughing at his staggering surprise as he spun around. Jon turned twice more, and each time Sebastian disappeared and reappeared, thwarting his strategy as he’d done before.
    “Do you see how useless it is to oppose me?” the vampireasked. “And while I do so enjoy playing with you, it grows tiresome. You are my creature. I have made you what you are, and what I have made, I can destroy.”
    “You have not made me yet, Sebastian,” Jon said. The gurgling sound of a stream at his back caught his attention. Inspiration struck. If boiling holy water wouldn’t burn his skin, perhaps he still possessed the power to bless it. If that were so, he might just have the weapon he needed to fight the creature. He was hardly in a state of grace, but maybe, just
maybe
. . . It was worth a try, and he stepped across the stream at its narrowest and squatted down, a close eye upon Sebastian, coming closer.
    The vampire snorted. “What?” he said. “Surely you cannot believe that old wives’ tale about vampires not being able to cross water?” He plunged one foot into the stream, dispelling the myth.
    Jon’s muscles clenched. He hadn’t even heard that tale. There was so much he hadn’t heard, and so much that he
had
heard was contrary to the truth of his situation thus far. He dared not trust anything except his instincts. And by all accounts, they were screaming:
Now
!
Do it now
! He plunged his cupped hands into the cool, clear water of the running stream, scooped some up, and murmured a blessing over it. Almost at once, it began to boil in his hands, though it did not burn his skin.
    Sebastian jerked his Hessian out of the stream and took a step back. “Eh?” he grunted. “What is this, then?”
    “If you were once what I am now—a man of the cloth—you know what this is!” Jon triumphed. Surging to his feet, he stomped through the stream and threw the boiling, steaming water full in the vampire’s face.
    With a cry unlike anything Jon had ever heard, Sebastian spun. A whirlwind grew that lifted dead leaves andpine needles from the forest floor and sent them flying in all directions. The vampire’s dark image was reduced to a squeaking, flapping flurry of fur and sinew, and he soared off into the trees, bat wings slicing through the still night air in a rowing motion, to disappear beyond the outer darkness into whatever underworld gave him sanctuary. Jon had banished the creature . . . for now. That he would be back Jon had no doubt—but that wasn’t likely tonight.
    That he could bless the water was no great feat; a layman could do that as long as he had faith enough to believe in the blessing. Had his calling saved him, or was it simply that those powers of his former self had not yet been rescinded? The condition did seem to be progressive. He would know more when the boiling holy water burned him. For now, it was enough that he had won a reprieve. He dared not count upon more.
    He stared long after the bat had spiraled out of sight. Only then did the voices of the forest, conspicuous in their absence, return. Birds ruffled the pine branches, chipmunk and squirrel skittered over the pine needles underfoot. Behind, a twig snapped, calling Jon’s eyes to the author of the noise. A large roe deer had stepped up to the stream to drink. Jon stood very still. He had to feed; he could not return to Cassandra