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(Page 2 of 2) Memoirs of a Vampire Hunter by Peter AllchinI turned to face the castle, steeling myself for what I was about to do.
In the fading daylight, large stone gargoyles stared down at me, their eyes piercing into mine as if willing, no, daring me to enter the castle. Conical spires reached up to the heavens, as if pointing fingers in defiance at the Lord; nothing Heavenly would I see behind these walls.
My eyes took in all before me. To the left of the castle was a courtyard more than large enough for a team and carriage to turn with ease. Iron gates led, I assumed, to the sta-bles, although the ivy choking the metalwork made it obvious and somehow sad that these gates had long since ceased their proper use. I cautiously approached the main door and lifted the heavy knocker, but before I could slam it against the thick oak, I heard movement from within.
I listened intently as a key turned in the rusty lock. The harsh grating of the mechanism sent shivers down my spine. I stood back, beads of perspiration began to form on my brow, though the temperature was approaching freezing point. With racing heart, I watched as the large, heavy, iron-strapped oak door creaked slowly open on ancient hinges.
The sun by now had disappeared, leaving me alone to face the night. Moon-light flooded in through the open doorway, casting my shadow eerily upon the flagstone floor. Instinctively, my right hand tightened on the ebony sheathed dagger concealed in the deep pocket of my greatcoat.
The dagger felt good in my grasp, for this was no ordinary weapon. A thin strip of rock-hard ebony had been bonded to both sides of the fine steel blade, stopping a half-inch from the razor sharp steel point. Meticulous chamfering of the wood made it indistinguishable to the touch between wood and steel. It had been made for one spe-cial purpose, and that special purpose was the reason why I had travelled so many miles to this cold, uninviting, evil place.
I had long given up the undoubted safer, but inherently hit and miss, method of searching for a vampire's coffin in daylight and hammering a wooden stake through its heart! No, for me, direct confrontation was the only way. With one lightning-fast strike, the vampire I sought within those walls would be no more. After all, I was young, twenty five years of age, fit and healthy. But more than that, I had been in the company of two dear friends, without whose help and encouragement, I would not have survived.
Straining my eyes, I could see, at the far end of the hall, flames from candles flickering and dancing in the incoming draught of cold air, but the air within was silent. Nothing stirred, no footsteps, no words of greeting, nothing. Slowly, cautiously, I moved forward into the unknown.
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