That beautiful head rolled across the ground until it bumped against D'Artagnan's foot and came to a stop. He watched it turn to black ash beside his boot.
The monsters surrounding them were likewise seized by darkness. They had once delighted in such darkness, for it promised rich, succulent blood, but now it became their shroud. The creatures that had terrified D'Artagnan and Colbert so badly could not even let out a howl before they died in unimaginable agony, vanishing without a trace. D'Artagnan swore he heard an unfamiliar word, something akin to the English "coward" or "craven," yet subtly different—or perhaps the speaker's pronunciation had simply been too elegant and gentle, unlike those coarse Englishmen.
That guess was confirmed in the next moment, when someone emerged from the darkness... no, he was not even human. He too was a vampire, and his red eyes declared his identity like a calling card. He showed no fangs and made no threatening gestures, yet the pressure he exerted on D'Artagnan far surpassed that of the enthusiastic landlady.
"Good evening, gentlemen," he said, glancing up at the sky. "What splendid weather for a swim."
"You are quite right, sir," D'Artagnan said. He was almost impressed with himself. "Though it was not by our choice, swimming in the river was rather pleasant in this weather—do you think we ought to go back in for another swim? Or perhaps not; perhaps we ought to thank you instead?"
The vampire looked at D'Artagnan. He found that not only the young king, but even those around him, were such fascinating people. "No, my dear friend, I have no need to watch you swim, nor do I have the sort of need you imagine. But I do hope you will thank me."
"As long as it is within