Dr. Rolf took a deep breath and stepped into the burned out cabin.  He briefly gagged.  The smell of burned and putrefying flesh still hung heavy in the air.  He snorted and carefully moved in.  He was carrying a large hand lantern that had a beam with a range of over a mile.  It ate batteries but he wanted the availability of intense light if he needed it.  The police had been through and removed anything they had considered possible evidence but they had given him copies of the photographs they'd taken.  He'd seen enough to know he wanted on site experience and to know the basement is where most of the "action" had taken place.

This was the room where the fire had started.  The police had reconstructed it as the "final stand" of the last hunter.  There was blood and brains on the wall where the impact he'd experienced had driven him into the wall with enough with enough force to split his skull.  The pictures of the body showed his ruined chest and no on could figure out what he'd been hit with.  The police had agreed that they'd never seen anything like it.  One detective said it looked like he'd been run into by two high speed battering rams.  Death had been almost instant.

He walked over and examined the wall.  You could actually see the imprint of the body in the plaster.  Turning, he walked over to the basement steps and looked down.  It wasn't quite pitch dark.  Some daylight was coming in through the cellar windows but the electricity had been cut off since the fire and it was not very bright down there.  He turned his lamp on a dim setting and descended into the gloom.

He sniffed.  The smell was different here.  There was a faint cold odor of gun powder and something else.  He didn't know what.  He could smell a faint urine and feces odor that often follows death.  He shone the light around the area and held it steady on the large wooden X.  He could take his time and examine it now.  The last time here, he was not allowed to get in the way and was only allowed in as a courtesy to the "press."  Now, he was on his own and could take all the time he needed.

He increased the brightness of the lamp and tried to ignore the odor of the place.  He focused the beam on the broken chain on  one of the wrist shackles.  All of the links were elongated from the force that had been applied to them.  The broken link and the actual wrist manacle had been collected with the evidence but force and violence of the escape struggle could be seen.  There were huge gouges in the wood, he had no idea what had make them, and all of the chains were severely stressed.  The police had gone over everything.  He shook his head in disgust.  The chance of finding anything useful was almost zilch!  He turned the light on full intensity and slowly swept the room with it.  He slowly worked the beam over the floor, the walls and rafters.  Wait!  There was a gleam.  He walked over and reached up in the rafter and removed a small decorative pin with a bit of torn fabric adhering to it.  He studied it, turning it over and over.  Looking in the opposite direction, he saw the shackle frame.  "Hmm . . . I wonder how this got here," he mused.

He spent another hour, finding nothing but taking notes about the condition of the basement.  He'd been told that two of the men had been shot and one had his neck broken.  Two of the men had their throats torn out and there was a tremendous loss of blood that was not accounted for by what blood was found at the scene.  The police were treating this like a sexual torture, bondage incident.  Jack Roternan had written it up as vampire hunters because he was told that's what it was, and nothing there contradicted that theory.  It was a good story.  Stakes, whips, tongs, and various instruments of torture had been found.  It was clear that this was an organized group and that they killed and tortured.  Vampires, now the police where not sold on that idea.

He finally gave up on the basement and left the burned building.  Standing away from it, he took a deep breath of fresh air and wondered what had happened.  The police had determined the time of death at just before dawn.  If a vampire escaped from the hunters at just about dawn, what would he have done?  The sun would be rising and every legend says vampires can't stand the sunlight.  Surely he wouldn't have gone back into the house.  Other hunters could arrive, the police or fire department could show up.  No, he'd need to find cover somewhere.  "If I was going to hide and get out of the sun where would I go?" He wondered.

He looked around and saw a heavy growth of bushes.  He walked over, and went in.  There were scuff marks and it looked like someone had rolled.  And . . . that looked like blood on the dried leaves.  He picked one of the leaves and looked at it carefully.  Yes, that could be blood.  He put the leaf in a plastic bag and gathered several others.  He had the facilities to make simple tests.  With some excitement, he wondered what he'd find.
 
He went a little further into the thicket and it opened and cleared some.  He found a freshly dug shallow trench.  He whistled and felt a chill run over him.  "I may be looking at a vampires day time grave," crossed his mind.  He shook his head.  "That can't be real.  There has to be another explanation."  With a sheath knife, he probed gently into the soft earth, hoping to find something.  Anything!

He felt excitement rise as he realized that there was something hanging on the end of the knife blade.  It was a dirt encrusted blood soaked piece of cloth.  He tapped the cloth with a stick to shake some of thee dirt off of it so he could see it better.  "Damn!" he exclaimed as he held a cut, torn, blood soaked bra to the sun.  "Scratch the theory on 'he.'  I'd say we have a she, here, for sure."  He laughed.  "Unless our vampire is a cross dresser."  He sobered and realized what he was thinking.  He was thinking this was real.  There really was a vampire here last night and she (She!) had been captured and tortured by vampire hunters, had escaped, demonstrating super human strength, and then, killed them all.

He swallowed hard.  He had to tell Eliza about this.  This was too much!  Not only were vampires real, They were here and so were hunters.  How could such things be going on and no one know.  Then he realized, it was in the paper.  There were books on the subject.  It wasn't that the information wasn't out there, it wasn't accepted!  It wasn't believed.  He exhaled a long shuddering breath and realized his world view had just taken a radical shift.  He was no longer sure what to believe and what to accept.  He was loath to believe that vampires where the walking undead.  There had to be a rational explanation.  He nodded to himself.  That was the purpose of science, to explain the unknown, the mysterious.  That was his job.  His and Eliza's.

He was waiting for her when she came in.  He'd been in early doing some searches for anything like this incident in the area for the past few years.  It was slow work.  Mr. Jack Roternan had done several articles on vampires and werewolves, some in a semi-serious vein and some tongue-in-cheek.  He'd contacted Mr. Roternan when he'd begun the project, introduced himself and explained what he was doing.  Mr Roternan had expressed willingness to help, in fact it was he that had called with the information about the cabin.  John figured it might be time for him and Mr. Jack Roternan to meet face to face.  They clearly had common interests.  If fact, he'd invited Mr. Roternan to be his guest at the House of Magura tomorrow night.  He'd invite Eliza tonight.  They should have a lively conversation.

Finally he heard Eliza coming in.  As usual she was exactly on time.  She was surprised to see him but ran to him and impulsively kissed him, first on the lips, and then on the cheek.  She grabbed his hands and leaned back, letting him support her weight.  "Eliza," he said, "you are getting tinier every time I see you!  Are you ok?  Are you eating well?"

She laughed, a musical sound.  "I feel great.  You make me feel great!  I can't remember when I've been so happy!"  She swung back and forth looking like a little girl only, as he remembered their last night together he knew she was anything but a little girl!  He grinned as he felt his body stir to her presence.

Laughing, he said, "You sit down and let me tell you what I've accomplished today."  She did sit and the first thing he did was to hold the pin he'd found and put in a plastic bag up so she could see it.

"Oh, John! Where did you find my . . ." she started.

"I found this it the hunter's cabin today," he said not hearing what she'd said.  He then described his search of the cellar.  She sat rapt as the memories of that night came flooding back.  As he described the carnage he'd found, she felt a grim sense of satisfaction.  She'd gotten even with the bastards.  She grimaced and wished she could have hurt them more.  John rattled on, totally enraptured with his tale and not really focusing on the expressions on her face or the fact that she was trying to hide the fangs that she couldn't quite control.  When he held out her bra, she thought she'd pee on her self.  If he'd ever seen that bra, she couldn't be sure if he had or not, he didn't recognize it. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Listening, she let him ramble on, not listening that closely, just admiring his face.  She caught something that made her start paying attention again.  "John would you repeat that," she asked.  "Repeat what, Eliza?  Oh, where I said I’d found a shallow grave?  Well, I did and the bra was buried in it.  So my theory that the vampire was a man is now proved wrong.  She’s a she, and I do feel sorry for what she must have gone through.  But she sure payed them back in spades.

He went on and explained all he’d found, and what his theories were.

"I’ve been in contact with Mr. Roternan and he’s agreed to meet me for dinner at The House of Magura.  I wanted to invite you to join us and hear what he has to say.. He may be able to shed some light on our vampire.  Also dispel any of the myths.  Plus he has done some research himself because of the articles he’s written.  I think its time to compare what we’ve found and what he’s found.

"If you’d like to come with us, Eliza, we’ll consider it a working dinner.   I’ll make reservations for the three of us for about 8 p.m.," John told her.

Having made the reservation for 8 p.m., John then called the newspaper to leave a message for Mr. Roternan, confirming their meeting and telling him of the time and the place, also saying if either were unacceptable for him to please call Dr. Rolf or Ms. Eliza Radu, and let them know.  They would gladly make any changes necessary.  He closed by saying they were both looking forward to meeting him.

Smiling at Eliza, he hung up and they started again talking about the article, what he'd found while investigating, and his theories.  She listened casually, more enthralled with him than what he was saying.