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‘Well, come on then, you undead fuck!’ shouted
Wren, spitting onto the ground. ‘I’ve killed all your
children, see?’ he said, pointed to the corpses within his
razor net of barbed wires, the vampires impaled on the
ground and the unlucky individual woven into the iron
gate. ‘Just you left now, now you’ve had your fucking fill!’
The vampire watched but didn’t speak, his eyes
shaking slightly in the moonlight.
‘Fuck this,’ snapped Wren, ‘you get the twins.’ On
his back, either side of his sword, sat the twins: Wren’s twin
black gauntlets, lined with thorn like spikes and inscribed
with holy words and sigils. One at a time, Wren placed a
hand over the opposite shoulder and into one of the
gauntlets, then again with the other, until his favourite
weapons were fitted.
There Wren stood, the vampire killer, with his
legendary gauntlets beneath the cold light of the moon. ‘I
prefer getting up close and personal,’ he smiled. Wren ran
and leapt with supernatural ease higher than most mortals
could, straight into the belly of the floating vampire. The