An Unattractive Vampire Read Online Free PDF Page B

have to admit that, Master Martin. It did look dead. Must have missed the heart, though. Not cut off the head, too. Head has to come all the way off, my dear. I expect your arms were tired, all that hacking away. Figured halfway through was good enough. Ah well, can’t expect more from a girl, eh, Master Martin?”
    Both Martin and Anne looked from the old man to each other. He had just given her the perfect excuse, one every Puritan would readily accept. It may have been a crime to be a witch, but it wasn’t a crime to be stupid and weak. The ignorant-woman defense would work. Martin couldn’t touch her. She knew it. He knew it. She knew that he knew it, which made it all the more sweet when she said, “I suppose so.”
    Martin’s eyes narrowed.
I know it was you,
they seemed to say.
    Anne’s eyes widened in response.
Who, me? I’m just a simple Puritan girl. I have no thought or opinion of my own. I leave the thinking to God and men.
    Martin’s eyes rolled as he turned away.
Oh, shut up.
    The Mosses caught none of this.
    “Not like a woman to miss a man’s heart, is it, my boy?” chuckled the elder. The younger, who had recently been unsuccessfully engaged, did not find this so funny.
    “What now, Master Martin? Should we dig the creature out?” asked Jonathan Moss while his father explained the joke to Anne. She had already heard about it, of course; the village wasn’t that big. Still, his hand gestures were quite amusing.
    Martin, meanwhile, considered the younger Moss’s proposal. Digging was the simplest solution. Get a few lads with strong backs and shovels. Dig until you find the beast. Finish the job. Simple. Of course, you would have to ignore the fact that all the while you were digging, a creature of terrible power lurked beneath you, waiting to drag you into the earth. How many lives would it take to extinguish this evil forever? How many was he ready to sacrifice? He could practically feel the vampyr’s grin emanating from the dirt below.
    The witchfinder removed a large silver cross from his jacket.
A stalemate, then.
    “Master Martin?” Jonathan inquired cautiously of the silent witchfinder, who seemed very intent on his cross. It could be that he was thinking or talking to God, but it could also be that he wasn’t all there. Jonathan tried again. “Master Martin, should I get a shovel?”
    “No,” said the witchfinder at last, “we do not need one.” He dropped the cross into the grave. It landed flat and began to sink into the mud. As it disappeared from sight, something beneath the ground shifted and then grew still.
    The Mosses looked very confused.
    “Masters Moss, fetch all the skilled tradesmen in the village. I need two dozen heavy stone slabs with crosses engraved on them, as soon as possible.”
    The Mosses nodded and hurried off to carry out the instructions. Martin had no doubt that by evening’s end, the stones would be delivered. Puritans may not be the brightest, nor the nicest, nor the most civil, nor the least hypocritical of people, but they could certainly work.
    Erasmus Martin, too, made his way toward the cellar steps, reaching them at the same time as Anne Stevens. He eyed her warily. “After you,” he said, determined not to turn his back on her. She gave him a mocking curtsey and bounced up the stairs in a very un-Puritan way. He followed her, disapproving.
    The pair reached the gathered village just as the Mosses were leaving with several of the larger men to gather appropriate stones.
    “What’s this about not digging out the creature?” asked Goody Cross. “Are you here to slay the creature or not?”
    Martin turned to her. “And how many sons are you willing to sacrifice to see me kill the beast?” The woman sputtered and stepped in front of her son to shield him from the witchfinder.
    “The vampyr cannot be killed without heavy bloodshed,” he declared. “So we trap it underground, entomb it for all time.”
    “How?” came an unidentified