Hvis Lvset Tar Oss

The five of them ran through the park. They could hear the hunters behind them, coordinating their moves with radios. They knew the hunters were attempting to corral them, or at least keep them outside until dawn. The five had to find sanctuary before then or perish as sunlight covered the city in its glowing rays.

The race was on.

The coterie ran at full speed, but they were running out of energy. None of them had had a chance to grab a bite in hours; they were pushing hard on fumes. They had not seen an opportunity to feed for hours; they were pretty sure this was due to interference of some sort. The hunters behind them were obviously another form of that interference; there was no way they should have been so close so soon without some sort of help.

They tried to run from tree to tree without being seen; fortunately, the trees were close enough that this could be accomplished. They were thankful in some ways that this was one of the smaller parks; there would be no protectors as there would be for larger parks so they could run almost unfettered without fear of having to engage in battle. However, its smallness also meant that they would soon leave its cover.

Cheryl's long red hair flowed behind her as she ran. Her eyes became slits as she tried to pick out the roots from the ground. Her vision was still sharp so they were easy to make out, but they were far muddier than they should have been; the lack of a proper feeding was beginning to affect her.

Beside her, Michael could feel himself slowing. It was by the smallest of increments, sure, but there was no way he would make it to his boat, to his personal sanctum. He smiled grimly with the realization that while the yacht had plenty of room for them all and they could feed while still having enough crew to escape, doubt was beginning to creep in. He only hoped they would make it, but if they did it would be just moments before the sun spilled over the horizon.

Little Lovisa was leading the group, not losing a single step as she ducked and dodged the tree limbs in her path. The youngest in the group, she was feeling the lack of fuel the most. There was no way she could keep up this pace for much longer; she was already debating simply surrendering to the fear taking over her frame inch by inch. She was far enough ahead that the hunter behind were mere whispers, but she knew that if she gave up she would be overwhelmed within heartbeats.

Anders brought up the rear. While he had the most powerful frame, his wrestling career had ill-prepared him for long-distance running. While he remained resolute that he would survive this, he was beginning to question how he would do it. While he knew Michael's yacht was the sole hope of the group to survive, he began to wonder if the spirits of his ancestors would empower one last berserker rage, enabling him to take down his enemies. He smiled grimly as he realized that they probably would ignore his pleas and would probably take some perverted joy as he fell to the hunters.

Lowenthal was somewhere near the middle. The brain of the group, he had still come up with no brilliant plan to save them from their impending fate. The hunters were pressing their advantage behind them, threatening to overtake them despite how fast they were covering the landscape, and The Council had made sure that there were no opportunities for them to feed ahead of them. Diverting to a path The Council did not expect them to take would no doubt save them, but only Michael's vessel gave them any hope. He caught himself praying to a deity he thought he had given up on for success and almost smiled.

Cheryl was yanked backward. Michael caught the movement and stopped almost instantly. He ran back to her and extended his fingernails. He sliced her hair, the long hair that had been caught in a low-lying branch, and motioned for her to follow as he began running again. She glared at him but nonetheless joined him; the flashlights of the hunters were getting closer.

Anders began to slow. He soon stopped. It took a few moments for the rest to realize he had stopped, and a few more to run back to him. He motioned for them to continue onward; Michael nodded in salute, and the rest of the group continued. He turned to face the hunters, preparing himself for his last fight, hoping his Viking ancestors would give him their strength, or at least approve. He began to run towards the hunters, allowing his fangs to grow in anticipation of the feast he was about to have.

His charge was met by numerous stakes to his chest and balloons full of holy water. His bones fell against the dirt.

This was too much for Little Lovisa. She stopped; the best efforts of Cheryl and Michael were unable to keep her moving. They had no choice but to run on. The hunters found her in the fetal position.

They soon exited the park, doing so cautiously. They saw a bank of lights looking up and down the park's boundary. They were confused about which way to go. Lowenthal motioned for them to count to five, then run towards the right edge of the light. Michael looked at him confused but was greeted only by Lowenthal's smile. Lowenthal waved, then ran for the left edge, becoming a blur as he pumped what little blood he had remaining into his speed. While he was running at a phenomenal speed, the bespectacled vampire found out that bullets were faster.

Completing the five-count, Michael ran for the right edge, Cheryl just behind him. They were able to reach it and then press beyond it with almost no problem. The yacht, their means to escape, lay just a mile away now; escape was just minutes away. However, the hunters were not through yet; the two were filled with dread as the sound of motorcycles approaching filled the air. Cheryl bit her lip, then pushed Michael forward. Michael almost fell, but was able to use the additional thrust.

Her fingernails grew into claws as she turned on the motorcycles. She cut through the first two, neatly separating their tops from their bottoms. There were, however, four, and the other two made quick work of her, catching her in a net and dousing her with holy water.

Michael allowed a single tear to fall for the love of his life as he ran for his life. He only hoped that he could give her a proper send-off later; the glow coming over the horizon gave him additional incentive to run. It was hard to not remember why they had been forced to run for their lives; he knew that taking down Count Johan could be dangerous, but the group had decided that they needed his blood; the blood of a vampire as old as he, one whose age was measured in centuries instead of mere decades, would make them powerful. They had stolen into his sanctuary, ambushed him, and drank deep of his blood. The power of the ancient vampire filled them.

Coming off the high a few days later, they had begun debating going after other such vampires. However, it turned out that Count Johan had been expecting visitors other than those who killed him and those visitors reported the death of the elder vampire to The Council. The Council had been swift to act even as it was trapped within its own traditions; they would be given until sunrise to escape. But they had not made the escape easy: They had contacted the local chapter of hunters and given them the most likely path of the coterie while ensuring no mortals were to be found along the path: They would be limited to the resources that they started with and no more.

Michael smiled as he saw the masts of his yacht come into view. He would be forced to grab one crewman and take the meal down to his cabin, his cabin protected from the sun, in order to slake his thirst, but there would be plenty of crewmen left to get his vessel into open waters. He smiled as he realized he may have beaten The Council.

He felt himself propelled backward. He found himself unable to move; looking down, he quickly found the reason: A wooden shaft had penetrated his heart. He could barely make out a man saluting him a good three hundred yards distant. He nonetheless tried to pull out the shaft, but the head had evidently been barbed; it was causing him pain to pull it out.

He then saw the sun begin to creep over the horizon. Powered by fear, he tried one more time to pull the arrow out, but it was stuck fast. His body caught on fire; in moments nothing remained of the slayer of elders but ash, and even that ash disappeared into the wind. The Council had won, but just barely; the local nest of vampires could now sleep easily with its balance restored.