Snowy chapel. Footprints leading to and from oaken doors. A large grey dog chained up at the railing barking and howling. A figure out on the ice covered with a white sheet. Nametha ran out, wires still attached to nodes on her skin. She released the dog and it went crazy, ripping at the sheet with its teeth.
Soon there was a semi-circle of men around Nametha and the dog and the pale body, all chanting in Russian. The black spires above gleamed with the first morning light and soon a beam from the sun shone directly on the slumped figure’s white skin. The skin smoked and bubbled and charred, until the skeleton was exposed and quickly incinerated by the light of day. All that remained were some tattered white sheets and two rings half-buried in the vampire’s dust.
Nametha took the rings, buffed them with a pocket handkerchief, and slid them onto her bony fingers. She grinned a wide grin of crooked, crowded teeth, and spun around, heading straight up the stone steps right into church.
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