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He carefully wound the bandages around his knuckles. It was time to get a new roll he decided, glancing down at his hands. The formally white fabric had become a stained with blood, these fights were becoming an almost nightly occurrence. He took a few deep breaths, savouring the cold air filling his lungs. The sickly sweet smell of fat emanating from a nearby house threatened to awaken the hunger that currently lay dormant in the depth of his stomach.

'You ready mate?' asked a rough voice as he received at thump to the centre of his back, returning his attention to the moment at hand, 'fight's about to start. Come on.'

He nodded as he followed the other man down the alleyway and into the inn. The air inside was laced with the stench of stale sweat and alcohol. A thick cloud of cigar smoke hung over the punters and the pounding of human hearts drowned out the sound of a group of musicians playing in the corner. He stopped at the bar on his way to a makeshift boxing ring that had been made in the centre of the room. The barmaid poured him a whisky before he had even asked. 'Can't keep you away can we?' she formed her mouth into a crooked smile revealing tobacco stained teeth.

Hal took the whisky without paying and knocked it back, slamming the glass back onto the bar as he made his way to the ring.

His opponent was already waiting for him in the ring. He was a massive beast of a man. His stiff posture suggested a military background ,this was confirmed when he turned his back to Hal revealing an army emblem tattooed on the back of his neck. The soldier was far bigger than him. His arms rippled with muscles which were emphasised by the sweat glistening on them in the low lights. To the spectators it looked like an easy fight for the bigger man. Hal knew different, noticing a slight limp as the man walked toward him.

The two men began to circle one another as the crowd started to bay for blood. Hal observed his opponent carefully. The soldier had a feral look in his pale grey eyes. His physical advantage would be lessened by the anger that he was barely holding back: the anger which would hopefully cause him to lose control and fight carelessly. Strength meant nothing if you couldn't back it up with skill and tactics. He was looking forward to this one.

The limp Hal had noticed as he entered the ring might be his only physical ailment, but the soldier's wild eyes suggested that there were mental scars that would soon bubble to the surface. Hal allowed himself a grim smile. He could hear the man's heart beating erratically in his chest and beads of sweat were trickling down his forehead. The soldier grabbed a tankard of ale from the hand of a spectator and knocked it back. He then returned to the centre of the ring to face Hal. The landlord motioned for the fight to begin.

The soldier lunged toward him, fists raised. Hal quickly sidestepped, sending a playful blow to the back of the other man's head. He ducked to dodge another blow as the larger man swung round to face him before moving in close catching his opponent on his nose with a short sharp jab. This angered the soldier who lunged at Hal, lifting his leg to land a solid kick to the smaller man's stomach. Hal fell back slightly, a grin broke onto his face. So it was going to be a dirty fight, he thought. That was good. Much more fun. The soldier squared up to Hal, trying to intimidate him with his immense size. His breath was rank with alcohol and tobacco and the smell of cheap cologne polluted the air around him.

Hal lunged at the larger man sending fists hurtling at his face in quick succession. He met his target. The man spluttered as loose teeth and blood flowed from his mouth. A drop landed at the corner of Hal's mouth and without thinking his tongue darted out to catch it, savouring the sweet metallic flavour. 'Shit' he muttered under his breath, he felt his face fangs bursting through his gums but managed to control himself before the change became visible. Not before the soldier had his revenge though. His fist careered into Hal's nose as he was concentrating on holding back his fangs. His blood ran down his lips and dripped from his chin.

The drop of blood awoke the predator's instinct. Before the soldier could land another blow Hal had leapt to the side and begun a dance around his opponent, throwing fast jabs to catch his attention followed by hard blows to the man's head and ribs. He could see the soldier was getting tired now. His attacks were becoming half hearted and sloppy. Every move was telegraphed and Hal dodged them easily. He was a cat dancing round his prey, relishing the other mans confusion and frustration. The soldier's eyes began to cloud over as the repeated blows to his head took effect. Hal was getting bored now, it had become too easy. He finished the fight with a solid kick to the soldier's ribs, causing him to bend double coughing up blood and then knocked him to the floor with an elbow to the temple.

The taste of blood had stirred something inside him and that something had not been satisfied by the fight alone. He could feel the mask slipping. He starred down at the fallen soldier, his head was a bloody mess but he was still alive. He could still taste the sweet blood from during the fight, the sound of the soldiers heart pounding seemed to steadily get louder until it drowned out the baying of the spectators. It would be so easy, he thought. In one second he could change everything. Return to the life that was rightfully his. Then there was something else, another scent. One that didn't belong.

He came to his senses and staggered back. He fled from the ring without a second glance at his opponent and barged his way through the spectators He needed to get away, he needed good clean air. He didn't stop running until he was out of the town centre, away from any people.

Sarah couldn't sleep. Her body temperature was through the roof and thoughts of her sister lying dying in the room next to hers occupied her tired mind. She always dreaded the night before the full moon when the wolf began to make its presence known, it made her short tempered, impatient and aggressive. Not ideal when she had Rebecca to look after. The wolf liked to come first, it didn't appreciate not being the top priority.

She threw the blanket off the bed and sat up in frustration. The sound of the front door slamming made her jump. She cautiously retrieved the dagger from beneath her pillow and tiptoed down the stairs making sure to avoid the creaky ones, she tripped on the last one which somewhat removed the element of surprise.

There was a figure slouched against the thick wooden door. He was curled up head in hands like a small child.

'Hal?' she asked cautiously.

He looked up at her. He was a mess. Damp sweaty hair hung loosely around his bloodied and bruised face.

'Jesus Christ you look awful.' She took a seat beside him and for the first time noticed the blood. 'Christ Hal, have you fed?'

Hal remained silent.

'You told me that was all over, you promised me it was over.' She tried to keep her voice down so as not to disturb her sister.

'It is.' He looked down.

'You're covered in blood!'

'I got in a fight. I wanted to drink, but I didn't! I stopped myself and I ran!' the words tumbled out of his mouth. 'It's like it's clawing me back Sarah…'It's like a tide turning. It's a force of nature, I can't stop it.'

He sounded so desperate, so pathetic. It made her feel sick. She got up and went to sit on the table. She couldn't stand to be close to him right now. 'If you really don't want to do something, you don't do it. If you end up back where you were, the only one who will have made the decisions that put you there will have been you.'

'It's not always that simple.'

'It is that simple. If you decide to stop fighting it, that's a choice you make. You're over 250 years old Hal, take some responsibility for once in your fucking life!' she spat. She pushed herself to her feet. 'Look Hal, if you're struggling then I'm here for you. Heaven knows you've got me through the worst years of my life. But I can't help if you don't tell me what's happening with you.'

'I didn't want to burden you. Rebecca's been so ill, I…'

'Don't you dare bring her into this, don't make her your excuse!'

Hal stood, 'I need some air.' His voice wavered. 'I'm sorry, for all of this. In the morning we'll talk. I 'll talk.' he sounded as though he was trying to convince himself as much as her.

'And you'll start being honest?' she asked sceptically.

'I'll start being honest.' He agreed.

He walked until he was out of earshot of the house. 'Are you going to come out of the shadows then?' he called out into the dark. He heard the footsteps approaching but didn't turn to face her. 'You were at the Inn weren't you? I thought I recognised your scent.'

When she got up there was no sign of him. At first she had thought that he simply had gone into the countryside for the day as he sometimes did, and had forgotten to leave a note. When he was still gone the following morning she began to worry and when after a week he still hadn't returned she began to accept that he wasn't coming back.

Hal had told her snippets of his past but hadn't ever gone into much detail. At the time she had been grateful for this. It had been quite enough to discover that she had become a werewolf and that the monsters from her mother's stories were largely based in fact. To be confronted with graphic details of a vampire's misdeeds would have been too much entirely. Now however she was realising that her lack of knowledge about the more gory details of his past meant that she was completely unprepared in the now very likely event that he had now reverted. Better the devil you know didn't the saying go?

He had told her that if he went back on the blood he would most likely turn on her. That she should run. She had planned to at first, packed a trunk ready to leave forever.

There was just the matter of her sister lying close to death upstairs. If she ran she would have to leave her behind. She didn't think that Rebecca would last more than a few weeks, even with her care. She hated herself for even contemplating leaving her. How long would she last alone? She couldn't pass her burden onto their neighbours. They had enough troubles already without being saddled with hers as well. She had been told once that you could survive for a week without water, but seven days alone, dying would seem like centuries. Then there was the risk that he would come back, find Rebecca and do god knew what to her. She shuddered at the thought. But what were the alternatives? She could kill her before she left; smother her with a pillow while she slept. After all, everyone knew she was dying. No one would suspect a thing.

She slumped onto the chair and dropped her head into her hands. She really didn't have any options. She couldn't kill her sister while she slept and she couldn't leave her to starve, or even worse, for him to find. She stood up and went to unpack the half filled trunk. It was decided. she would stay and she would care for her sister until the end, however long that took.