Both thirst for the same thing, a desire for something that is the essence of life. They are both one with the night, creatures despised and feared in equal measures throughout time. One would believe that they would find a sort of kindred spirit, but these two were not allies.

The pale face of the vampire is drawn into a terrifying grimace, his eyes like white orbs, and the pupils barely distinguishable. He poises himself ready to attack; ready to defend his home, for his enemy has trespassed and must be punished.

Two glowing yellow eyes emerge from the darkness. It’s breathing low and heavy, fixed in a demonic growl. The vampire laughs in anticipation, baring his fangs. He shows no look of fear, even though this creature could mean his destruction, just as well as a wooden stake from his old nemesis, Professor Van Helsing would.

Perhaps, in the vampire’s subconscious, this is a death wish. A line he had said some time ago, entered his thoughts; “To die, to be really dead….that must be glorious!”

The fiend struck the vampire from out of the shadows, sending him crashing to the floor of the abbey in which he inhabited. It gnashed its teeth and claws at the undead flesh at the creature which pinned him against the cold stone. It attacked with the ferocity of a wild animal, for that’s exactly what it was. The vampire grinned as he fought back at the hulking monster that meant to destroy him, his old enemy, the werewolf…