The howling of wolves pierced the night, a sound so chilling that it could freeze a pony on the spot. For the mare galloping down the streets, however, it only made her move faster. Her heart was pounding, and sweat poured from her forehead. She raced down the cobblestone path, guided only by the baleful red glow of the blood moon and the dim gaslights of the street's homes and shopfronts. She was breathless by now, but still she kept running. Their baying drew ever closer, and soon the beasts would be upon her.

The mare turned a corner and tried to leap over a large puddle. She splashed in the middle of it instead, soaking her underside with freezing rainwater, but she continued on regardless. Behind her, the howls had turned to snarls, and she could even hear their paws on the cobblestones. With a panicked breath, she chanced a look back at her pursuers.

The three hengstwolves were each the size of a pony, and looked equine enough in general to make their beastly features that much more unsightly. Upon the bodies of ponies, their black noses, sharp teeth, clawed paws, and distinctly canine tails all looked so wrong. But the frightened mare was far more unnerved by their equine features, because even they were corrupted by beasthood. They had ears like a pony's, but hair grew from them. They had pony manes, but they were wild and unkempt. They even had cutie marks for Celestia's sake, but they were of horrid images like blood and bones.

The mare screamed and ran even faster, somehow finding new strength within herself, even while on the brink of exhaustion. Still the hengstwolves pursued her, almost nipping at her heels. Tears streamed down the mare's face as she ran for her life, and all the way, the wolves kept up their frenzied snarls.

Then a booming voice called out through the night.

"Oi!"

She looked ahead along the street. The voice's owner stood two levels above, on a tiled roof above a shop. Clad in a long red overcoat and cravat, an equine figure lifted a crossbow swathed in emerald-green magic, and angled it into the streets below. The mare's heart soared, and she dared a hopeful smile. In dress like that, with weapons like those, he could only be a hunter.

"To the side, luv!" the hunter called, his voice tinged with the accent of a Trottingham commoner.

Without question, she threw herself sidewards to clear a line of sight for the hunter. Moments later, a silver crossbow bolt sailed through the air with a harsh whistle, ripping through the eye of a hengstwolf. She looked back as the beast hit the ground in a tangle of limbs and fur. Its packmates left it behind with nary a thought.

The mare turned her eyes forward again, wishing now that she hadn't seen that. She looked up at the shop as she rapidly approached, and watched the glow of the hunter's magic as he readied his next shot. It was an extremely quick motion for something as cumbersome as loading a crossbow. She credited it to his unicorn magic, but still marveled at the skill that must have been involved.

The street split two ways at the shop where the hunter perched, so the mare turned right as soon as she reached it. He fired another bolt straight down at the wolves as soon as she passed. The mare didn't look back this time, but she winced at the howl of pain and meaty thud that followed.

One more remained, four sets of claws and one set of razor-sharp teeth still chasing her. Her breaths were coming in gasps by now. Her lungs burned. She was so caught in the moment, it was only by luck that she glanced aside and glimpsed the hunter running along the rooftops beside her. In his teeth, he clutched a long, silver sword, which caught the red-tinted moonlight on its blade. She wondered for half a second why he held it in his mouth rather than by magic.

Then he leapt from the roof.

He aimed ahead of her, so the mare dodged sidewards again. The hengstwolf raced ahead thoughtlessly, and the hunter cleaved its head off in a single strike as he landed. The beast's body skidded past, splattering the hunter with blood from its neck stump, before crumpling to the ground. The blood and his overcoat were both red, so the stains almost seemed to blend into him.

With the danger now passed, the mare collapsed against the wall of a nearby building, tears still stinging her eyes. She breathed deeply and rapidly to relieve the sharp pain in her lungs, staring at the headless hengstwolf all the while. The hunter stood up, replacing his silver sword in its scabbard beneath his coat.

"Blegh," he said, wrinkling his nose and spitting on the road.

He pulled a ragged facemask across his muzzle. Seeing him up close, and not in the heat of a chase, the mare could now tell that her saviour was a crimson unicorn with a black crop of a mane, his coat only a few shades darker than his outfit. She stumbled over to him, still gasping for breath.

"Thank you, kind hunter!" she wheezed.

"Aye, not a problem," said the hunter, his booming voice muffled slightly by the facemask. "But this ain't no hour to be roamin', luv. There're more horrors than just hengstwolves on these streets."

"I know! I was a fool!" The mare sat down in the street, clutching her stomach. "I was late getting back. I should've stayed at an inn on the road and waited 'til the morn to return to the city. My husband, he wouldn't have minded... To think, I almost left him a widower..."

The hunter stared at her for a moment. Then he sighed and rolled his eyes.

"...Yeh should get somewhere safe, quick as possible. If ya home's close, make a run that way. Otherwise, I'd suggest St. Glorious's Chapel. That's where all the lost travelers go on the night o' the hunt."

The mare looked at the ground, while the hunter returned his attention to the dead hengstwolf, leaning down next to the corpse and removing a small knife from a concealed sheath.

"Wait!" said the mare, sitting up suddenly.

The hunter stopped and gave her a quizzical look.

"Aye?"

"I... I left my cart in the square. I had to abandon it to escape the beasts. You've got to help me get it back and bring it home!"

With another roll of his eyes, the hunter put his knife away and stood up.

"Lemme be clear, luv," he said, taking a step towards her. "I'm a hunter, not a bodyguard, y'see? I'm paid to patrol these streets, slaughter beasts, and collect proof o' the kills to hoof over to the Church. My work keeps ponies safe, but in an indirect sense, aye? Yeh just got lucky this time. I can't be expected to save every lost soul I find. That's a constable's job."

"Please, sir, you must!" said the mare, getting on her knees and grabbing the hunter's leg. "That cart's got a week's worth of produce in it! The street urchins will have it by sunrise if I leave it there, and without it, my husband will have nothing to sell at the market! We have children, good hunter! They'll starve if I don't bring it back!"

The hunter stared at the mare as her tears flowed freely. She went quiet, waiting for his answer. Tilting his head back and closing his eyes, he let out another long sigh.

"...Fine. But if I'm to escort ya with yer cart all across the city, we'll need help. I can kill a pack of beasts just fine by meself, but savin' you's another matter. If ya've got a big heavy cart and can't outrun them, two other wolves will probably savage ya while I'm still busy with the first."

The mare stood up, drying her eyes and taking a deep breath.

"So what are we going to do?"

The hunter looked over his shoulder.

"If we head down that way, there's a tavern that's open late to serve hunters. Me brother'll be there. He'll help us."

He didn't turn back in time to stop the mare from grabbing him and pulling him into an embrace, now wearing a bright smile.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you so much, kind hunter!"

The hunter grunted, making her pull away.

"Oh, sorry..."

She then realised that she'd gotten some of the blood from his overcoat on herself. The mare blanched, while the hunter chuckled and returned to the dead hengstwolf's side. Looking at him from behind, she noticed a tiny black spiral on the back of his neck, like a tattoo or birthmark.

"Just lemme claim proof for the bounty first," the hunter said, leaning down and positioning his knife over the wolf's paw. "Ya may wanna avert yer gaze."

He began cutting away at it, while the mare wiped off as much blood as she could.

"By the way, what do I call you?" she asked.

"Hellfire," the hunter answered.

A knock at the door prompted a small window to slide open, behind which were a pair of beady grey eyes. They darted from Hellfire to the mare, and then narrowed.

"The password?" said the doorkeeper in a hoarse, raspy voice.

"'Shrouded by night, but with steady stride,'" Hellfire recited. "'Coloured by blood, but always clear o' mind.'"

The sliding window closed. The sound of locks turning and bolts sliding filled up a good ten seconds, before the door opened wide. On the other side, a haggard old stallion with a full grey beard held the door against his body with both forehooves, as if he were a spider trying to climb onto it. Hellfire pushed him and the door aside and walked in, the mare following after.

"Welcome to the Blood-Drunk Hunter," he said, gesturing about the room.

The interior was brightly lit and smelled of incense, with an old wooden floor and painted yellow walls. Directly ahead was a bar, where a more youthful-looking stallion was polishing glasses. The walls were adorned with the mounted heads of hengstwolves and other beasts, as well as paintings and monochrome photographs. All of them were of hunters – ponies and griffons in fashionable overcoats and facemasks much like Hellfire's. Some were alone, while others posed in groups.

Elsewhere around the room, hunters dressed in the exact same style sat at circular tables, eating, drinking, talking, and laughing together. Most wore darker colours than Hellfire did, and some had odder accessories such as top hats or armoured gauntlets. One griffon even more a monocle. Without exception, everybody present was just as well-armed as he was, carrying at least one visible weapon on their person. Swords and daggers, bows and crossbows, and even plain work implements like axes or sawheads were all in evidence.

Hellfire navigated the tables, the mare following close behind, until they reached one in the corner of the room where two unicorns were sitting.

One was a stallion in black hunter's garb, with a dark red coat underneath near Hellfire's shade, and a light brown mane that was cropped just as short as his. He was just about to lift a spoonful of pea soup to his mouth when he noticed Hellfire's presence and lowered it, but Hellfire didn't say anything. Instead, he turned his attention to the other pony at the table, a blank-flanked colt with a stark white coat and a mane as black as Hellfire's, but many times longer. More specifically, he looked at the colt's hooves, which grasped a pewter mug.

"Helsing, are yeh drinkin'?" Hellfire asked with a stern inflection.

"Uncle True said I could," Helsing answered, speaking in a more proper diction than his father.

Hellfire turned his wrathful gaze back onto his brother, who shrunk slightly under his glare.

"He's thirteen," said True Shot, his voice much softer than Hellfire's own. "Come on, you an' I were drinkin' younger than that!"

"Aye, but our father was a blasphemous drunkard. The Church're clear on this, True. Givin' drink to a child is leadin' an innocent mind to discord. Chaos is sin, o brother o' mine."

True Shot rolled his eyes. "Whatever happened to 'Celestia forgives'? It's fine, 'Fire. Okay? The boy can handle his drink. Give him some credit."

Hellfire sighed.

"I s'pose there's little I can do 'bout it now." He looked to Helsing. "At least tell me yer having a stallion's drink, and not that warm piss that True likes."

True Shot snorted and resumed eating his soup, while Helsing held up his mug to show his father.

"It's ale," he said.

Hellfire looked at the dark contents of the mug for a second, before shrugging.

"Good enough."

"So what did ya want, 'Fire?" asked True Shot between spoonfuls of soup. "Yer back a little early, aren't ya?"

Hellfire gestured to the mare by his side, who had kept silent so far.

"I found this one wanderin' about. Nearly got herself eaten by hengstwolves. She wants me help gettin' her cart back and escortin' her home, otherwise her kids are gonna starve or somesuch."

True Shot frowned.

"At this hour?" He turned to the mare. "Ya do know it's the night o' the hunt, right?"

The mare opened her mouth to speak.

"Aye, she knows," Hellfire said first. "Bad decisions were made all around. All's I'm saying is that I need a second hunter to help me out on this one. Who knows what we'll have to fight through on the way? I can't protect her from everythin'."

"...Alright." True Shot dropped his spoon in the bowl and stood up. "I owe ya one for the dropbear anyway."

He adjusted his coat and lifted a tricorn hat from below the table, which he placed over his head. Helsing, still sitting, looked to each of them.

"What about me?" he asked.

"Y'can stay here," said Hellfire. "We'll be back in half an hour. Old Grisly can watch ya for us until then. Can't ya, Grisly?"

From across the room, the old bearded pony by the door looked their way and nodded.

Hellfire turned to the mare and gestured towards the door. "Shall we?"

As the three went to leave, Helsing suddenly ran out in front of them, holding up a hoof to block their way.

"No! I wanna come with you!"

"No, boy!" Hellfire growled. "It's the night o' the hunt; there're beasts in those streets! Yer mother'd kill me if I put ya in danger."

"But, that's why you both have to go, isn't it? To make sure that there's no danger? She's not a hunter either, and you're taking her!"

"She knows what she's gettin' into, Helsing," said True Shot.

"So do I!" Helsing stomped a hoof on the tavern floor. "I've been training to be a hunter forever! I know what beasts can do, and when to fight, and when to get out of the way! If I can drink already, why can't I hunt, or at least come to see one?"

Hellfire found it striking, how much the colt looked like his mother. His wife had given him that same glare with those same piercing blue eyes so many times before, and he always wilted to them in the end.

"...Fine," he said, tiredly rubbing his forehead. "If ya insist. But there won't be no fighting. If we're attacked, ya hide or ya run. And always do exactly what I say. Got it?"

"Aye. Got it."

Hellfire gave his son a scrutinising look, but relented when he saw no further signs of defiance. He turned back and nodded to Grisly, who opened the door for them. Together, the four ponies walked back out into the cold night air of the Trottingham streets.

As they left, Hellfire took one last withering gaze back at the Blood-Drunk Hunter, its old sign creaking as it swayed in the wind. Behind it, the blood moon hung low in the sky.

Hellfire shivered.

The four of them kept a tight formation while they walked the streets. Helsing stayed at the back, while the mare whose name he didn't know led the way. His father and uncle kept pace either side of the group, watching the side streets for any signs of danger. Helsing observed them closely, and every once in a while, the mare would glance back at him.

"So..." she said. "This is a family business, is it?"

"Nay," said True Shot, not taking his eyes off the side streets. "Our father was yer regular kind of mercenary, and our mother was a gentle soul. Huntin' just appealed to us."

"I'm gonna be a hunter one day," said Helsing. "I'm gonna be the best hunter there ever was."

Hellfire chuckled.

"Ah, the arrogance o' youth."

"Miss it, don'tcha?" said True Shot, shooting his brother a grin.

"Aye. Every night..."

The group soon emerged into a city square, the cobblestone roads around the outside enclosing a large green area, at the centre of which was an imposing clock tower. On the edge of the green, parked by a public bench, was the cart that they were looking for, produce overflowing onto the road. Cabbages formed the bulk of it, but there were also carrots, tomatoes, cauliflowers, and apples.

"Good stock ya have here," said True Shot.

"Aye," Hellfire added, picking up an apple with his magic to examine it. "Where'd ya get these? They're real fresh."

"Brittlesworth," the mare replied, taking his apple away and throwing it into the cart.

Hellfire shrugged and looked outward across the square, keeping a guarded stance while Helsing and True Shot helped pile everything back into the cart.

"Alright, that's everythin'," said True Shot. "C'mon. Let's get outta here."

The mare hitched herself onto the cart and began pulling. She'd scarcely taken five steps when a howl rang out through the streets, making her freeze. True Shot tore a crossbow from a concealed holder at his side, and loaded a bolt into it with the kind of speed that only expertly-applied unicorn magic could allow.

"Go!" Hellfire shouted to the mare, and she started running without hesitation. "And you, boy! Into the cart!"

Before Helsing could protest, his father picked him up with his magic and tossed him into the back of the mare's moving cart, where he landed on top of the carrots. He quickly righted himself and sat up again, and found that both his father and uncle were keeping a steady pace alongside the cart. Hellfire, already floating his silver sword beside him, passed a small dagger to Helsing.

"They're just hengstwolves, so we should be fine," he said hurriedly. "But worst comes to the worst, that's a treated holy blade. Should be good against anythin' we face. If ya lose us, use it sparin'ly, and try to get this filly home safe. But think of yerself first, okay? If she's being an idiot, and they're all on her, run for it and head for the chapel!"

The mare twisted her head, shooting Hellfire a wide-eyed look. Helsing just nodded.

The howls in the distance grew louder.

"Ah, damn!" said True Shot. "They're on us, 'Fire!"

Five hengstwolves barreled into the streets behind them, bounding forward an unsettling speed. True Shot fired off a bolt and struck one of them in the face, sending it sprawling with a pained whimper. But as quick as he was, the other four had still made frightful progress by the time he'd loaded his next shot.

He fired again.

"Back to the Abyss with ya!" he shouted, striking a second between the eyes.

The wolves had almost caught up. Hellfire used his magic to hold his sword at distance, and swung at one of them hard enough to decapitate it.

"Rot in Hell, ya sun-forsaken beasts!" he said, joining his brother's curses.

Helsing watched in rapt attention as True Shot fired again, killing a fourth wolf, just in time for Hellfire to cut the throat of the last one as it leapt towards him. Both brothers had managed to get blood-splattered during the fight, but neither seemed immediately concerned. Instead, they both looked back longingly at the corpses in the road behind them.

"That's two hundred and fifty bits we're leavin' behind," True Shot muttered.

"We can come back for it later," said Hellfire.

"Assumin' that we even—"

The conversation was interrupted as the cart came off its wheels, flinging Helsing off. He yelped as he flew and landed on the road, skidding along on the cobblestones and grazing his skin. The flipped cart rained produce over the road, and landed on its side next to him in a thunderous crash. He heard Hellfire and True Shot cursing, while the mare screamed for a brief moment, only to be quickly silenced. Helsing seethed at the stinging pain of his cuts, and edged back around the cart to see what was going on.

The mare was shoved up against the wall of a nearby building, pinned by a shale-grey earth pony with gleaming yellow eyes, his mouth closed around her neck. She moaned deliriously, as all the colour seemed to drain from her face. All the while, her attacker kept eye contact with Hellfire and True Shot, who stood a short distance away, aiming weapons at him.

Soon, the mare lost consciousness. As a final cruelty, the vampire ripped her throat out with his pointed fangs, spilling what little blood she had left over the road. He tossed her body aside, wiped his mouth with a hoof, and slowly advanced on them.

"Well, well, what do we have here then?" he purred. "A pair of hunters out on nightly stroll... So good of you to be out here, ridding us of those dreadful beasts... They do make it difficult for me to find my prey on a night like this."

The vampire moved closer and closer, until True Shot pulled a wooden sun symbol from under his coat, and brandished it in the vampire's direction.

"Back, hellspawn!"

The vampire scowled and hissed, recoiling. Hellfire, a sweat on his brow, glanced aside at the upturned cart, and a look of relief crossed his face when he saw Helsing. But that's when the vampire noticed him, too, and Helsing felt a deep sense of dread as he looked his way.

"Oh," the vampire said, grinning. "A little one."

Before he could make a move or insinuate anything more, a silver crossbow bolt pierced the vampire's skull, and he clutched his head and howled in agony.

"Take him and go!" True Shot yelled. "I've got this!"

Hellfire dashed behind the cart, grabbing Helsing with his magic and throwing him onto his back. In an instant, he was galloping away from the scene, Helsing's hooves clinging around his neck.

"Ya see why I didn't want ya out here?" Hellfire shouted.

"I'm sorry!" Helsing cried. "I didn't know!"

"This is all my fault, listenin' to that stupid mare! I never should've agreed! This always happens when ya indulge in sentiment, Helsing! We just had to get her cart, too! She couldn't just be happy that she weren't torn to pieces! I should've just told her to go home, and sod her starvin' kids!"

"Is Uncle True gonna be alright?"

"I damn well hope so!"

There was a sound of hooves on stone behind them. They didn't look back in time before the vampire caught up with them. He galloped alongside Hellfire, grinning widely, his face unblemished where the crossbow bolt had struck him.

Then for just a moment, the vampire looked directly at Helsing again.

He couldn't stop himself. The reaction was pure instinct. Helsing leapt from his father's back and tackled the vampire, grabbing him by the neck. Both stallions stopped galloping, the vampire shouting in surprise and trying to shake Helsing loose. Before he could, Helsing drew the dagger his father had given him, and plunged it straight into the vampire's eye. He twisted his head away as blood sprayed from the socket.

The vampire shrieked in pain, his thrashing finally managing to throw Helsing off. The knife was still embedded in his eye, so Helsing reached out with his magic and used what little of it he had to hold the knife in. He gave it a twist while he was at it. The vampire's screams became louder, and he started clawing at his own face in an attempt to grab it. Eventually, he got a grip and wrenched it free, and immediately threw it halfway down the street. Blood poured from his wounded eye, while he glared at Helsing with his good one.

"You've done it now, kid..."

Hellfire slammed into him from behind, knocking him into a wall and winding him. Then he threw the vampire to the ground and smashed a forehoof into his jaw, knocking several teeth loose.

"Ya dare threaten me son?" he thundered. "I'll send ya back to the depths where ya belong, heretic!"

Helsing scrambled back. The vampire was already visibly healing from the first punch, so this time Hellfire brought down both hooves on his head with all the force he could muster, breaking several bones with an audible crack. His hooves were staining red, as blood flowed from the vampire's eyes, nose, and mouth.

Hellfire hit him relentlessly, again and again. The vampire kept healing everywhere except his wounded eye, but Hellfire repeatedly broke his bones and made him bleed, causing new damage as quickly as the old could be fixed. He struck the vampire with the sort of violent rage that only a protective parent could muster, and with every blow, more and more blood splattered over him, covering his face, his hooves, and his overcoat.

"Die, monster! Die!"

The vampire threw a punch of his own, sending Hellfire reeling. He reached up and grabbed Hellfire by his cravat, pulling him down to the ground with him and flipping them both over. Now the vampire was the one pinning Hellfire.

"No!" Helsing cried.

The vampire grabbed Hellfire's head with both hooves and forced him up to look him in the eye.

"Nice try, hunter, but not enough."

He slammed Hellfire's head into the ground, making him scream. Then he did it again, harder this time, and then a third time. By the fourth, Hellfire was crying, his eyes squeezed shut as he flittered at the edge of consciousness. Helsing was crying too. The vampire opened his mouth, his fangs shining in the moonlight.

"Hunters always taste the sweetest..." he said, laughing.

Then from out of the dark, a silver bolt struck him in his remaining eye.

Once more, the vampire howled in agony, collapsing to the ground and allowing Hellfire to attempt to crawl away. Bewildered, Helsing looked down the street, in the direction that they'd been running from, and saw his wounded uncle stumbling into view. True Shot clutched his side with a hoof, nursing an injury that was bleeding through his overcoat, while with his magic he aimed his crossbow at the vampire.

He finished reloading it just as he reached the vampire's side, and pressed down with his free hoof to hold him in place while he pointed it at his chest.

"These ones're treated with holy sunlight magic," he said, coldly. "Good luck healin' from this, ya scum-suckin' heathen dog."

True Shot unloaded his last bolt directly into the vampire's heart. He cried out one last time, blindly reaching up towards the red-tinted image of the Mare in the Moon, before falling limp and silent.

Helsing looked around at the carnage. The walls and the road were painted red with the vampire's blood, and with some of his father's, too. It looked like the scene of a grisly murder. In a way, it was. Helsing stopped to reflect on that. He had witnessed seven deaths tonight.

"Urgh..." Hellfire grunted.

"You okay, brother?" asked True Shot, extending a hoof.

"Aye, aye, I'm fine..." Hellfire took his hoof and tried to stand. "I'm just feelin' a little... a little..."

His eyelids fluttered as he climbed to his hooves and stumbled.

"A little... somethin'..."

He looked down at his own hooves, still soaked with the vampire's blood. True Shot gave his brother a wary look, and took a step backwards.

"'Fire, did ya get any of it in yer mouth?" he asked.

"M-My... mouth..."

Hellfire opened his mouth, and True Shot took a sharp breath as his brother's tongue ran over a new pair of fangs. The two stared at each other, wide-eyed and fearful. True Shot tried to blink away tears, while Hellfire just remained grave and sullen.

"I'm so sorry," said True Shot, shaking his head.

"N-No, it's m-my fault... I should've b-been more careful..."

Hellfire held a hoof over his mouth and sank back to the ground. Helsing rushed over to his father's side.

"...What is it, dad?" he asked, his heart racing. "What did you do?"

Hellfire closed his eyes and sighed. "I've infected meself, Helsing. The vampire's blood got in me. And there ain't no cure for vampirism 'cept killing yer maker. But True already killed him..."

Helsing's eyes widened, reflecting his uncle's expression.

"But there must be something else you can do!"

"No... I'm sorry, son."

Helsing started crying again.

"You can't, though! You can't let it get you! Father Sunflower says that vampires can't go to Paradise!"

"Urgh... I don't think I was ever going to Paradise in the first place..."

Hellfire chuckled grimly to himself, but his weak laughter soon became pained crying. He ripped open his overcoat to expose a necklace and wooden sun pendant underneath, just like True Shot's. It was burning his coat and skin, searing him with a Celestian sun brand. Still, Hellfire didn't take it off, only gritting his teeth and leaning his head back.

"Arghhh... this hurts... Owwww... Please... no more... End it now... I need peace... I need... to be put to rest... before I lose meself..."

His breathing had become deep and rapid. Hellfire sat up slightly and began stripping off his hunter attire and weapons, leaving everything except the necklace and pendant.

"Helsing... Helsing, listen to me..."

Helsing obeyed, moving closer to his father.

"...I'm givin' you me coat, and me weapons... When ya get into the business too... use 'em well... Don't be scared off by how it ended for me, if it's what ya really wanna do... This is hunter's work... We die a hunter's death..."

Hellfire's head lulled to the side, and he looked up at his brother as he loaded another bolt into his crossbow.

"True... look after him... Teach him everythin' that I won't be there to..." True Shot nodded, and Hellfire turned to his son again. "And you... look after yer mother... and yer little brother and sister... Yer the stallion of the house now... Ya protect them... no matter what... okay...?"

Helsing nodded.

With a slight hoof gesture, Hellfire bade his son to back away. Helsing obeyed, and True Shot stepped over.

"I'm sorry, 'Fire," he said, pointing the crossbow at his brother's heart.

"Don't... blame yerself... Just put me outta my misery... and we'll... call it even for the dropbear..."

Even through the tears, True Shot smiled.

"Forget about Paradise anyway. Who needs it? You and me, we're hunters. And we'll meet again in Hunter's Dream."

Hellfire smiled back, closing his eyes. "...I'll see ya there."

True Shot's last silver bolt fired. Hellfire let out a quiet whimper as it pierced his heart, but kept his eyes closed. He slumped back against the wall, crumpling to the ground, and True Shot waited and held his breath. When Hellfire's cutie mark disappeared, he let out a long sigh and collapsed onto his knees.

"Ohhhhh... Celestia, forgive me..."

Helsing didn't say anything. He sat down in front of his father, in the same place he'd been when they'd exchanged their final words, and stared blankly at his corpse. True Shot watched him silently with an uneasy look. He scowled up at the moon, doubtless silently cursing its mistress for what she had wrought.

There was a flash of light, and an odd noise by Helsing's side. True Shot looked back down, and his jaw dropped when he looked at him. On Helsing's flank was a brand new cutie mark. It was of a red blood splatter with a metallic sun symbol in the centre of it, a wooden stake and hammer lying either side.

But Helsing barely gave it more than a passing glance. In his world, there was nothing in that street but the bodies and the blood.

Author's Notes:

Theme of the prologue:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fNjgfTfQjCQ

This story is a part of the Borderworld.

Happy Halloween, everybody! Welcome to the show, and for some of you, welcome back! Van Helsing is a story that I first wrote and published way back in 2013, originally done as a side-story to a different fic that I later abandoned, and now revamped and rewritten entirely from the ground up for my current fanfic universe, linked above. Although a lot has changed since the original version, this story and these characters have been in my head for a very long time, and it's incredibly liberating to finally get them back onto the page, now in a form more representative of my current level of writing ability.

For those new to the story, Van Helsing is my tribute to the vampire mythos. Despite the tag, it's not exactly a crossover with any particular other work. Rather, it takes liberal inspiration from almost every work even remotely related to vampires, blending disparate elements in its setting in order to create something not exactly original, but still different from its sources, hopefully in an interesting way. Each chapter draws most heavily on a different source than the next, so you can think of individual chapters as being different "crossovers" with different works.

Van Helsing is also, at the same time, a view into Equestrian history, told across many years from the viewpoint of our titular protagonist. Each chapter captures him at a different point in his life, and we follow him as he and Equestria both gradually change throughout the years. I hope you come to enjoy reading about Helsing's life and adventures, although I can only apologise for his personality.

Finally, some special thanks. Firstly, to my long-suffering editor, Posh, for his intensive (and extensive) work on this story. Much of this wouldn't have been possible without him. And secondly, to dr-whiskey, AKA Mr-Chaoz, from whom I commissioned the cover art some time ago (though he sadly seems to have deleted some of his accounts and quietly disappeared since then, so no cover art source).

Anyway, thank you for reading, and I hope to see you again on the road ahead!