He sat against an old oak tree while he kept watch and was dozing off when he heard frightening sounds. He thought he was dreaming, but Will jolted awake in the darkness and stood and walked slowly toward the sounds, drawn like a magnet though he would prefer to turn toward camp. It sounded like screams mixed with moans of… pleasure? His right hand lingered just above the handle of his sword. He kept walking toward the hideous noises, wondering about the creatures Locksley told of just hours earlier around the campfire. Robin approached him just then and he jumped when the archer tapped him on his shoulder.

"Come on, Will. You rest now. I'll take over." Robin said.

"Don't tell me you cannot hear that!" Will exclaimed. "It's the middle of the night! How far are we from Dead Man's Curve?" He asked.

"Not far enough." Robin muttered.

"Is that… them?" Will asked and turned again toward where the gruesome sounds were coming from.

"I think so. Yes." Locksley replied.

"Curses! We gotta do something!" Will shouted. He pulled his sword from his sheath and charged blindly toward where he thought the right direction was, too quick for Locksley to react.

"Will! Damn it!" Robin called as he ran after him. He managed to catch up to him some moments and about two hundred yards later and grabbed him.

"Come with me, Locksley! Come on! We have to do something for God's sake!" Will screamed.

"Will…no! Trust me, we are not prepared. You haven't seen what they can do. They will devour us in moments – alive!" Robin stated firmly.

A look of horror passed over Scarlett's face. Robin thought he saw some of the colour leave him, even by the scant light of the moon.

"Will. I do not lie to you. When you meet these creatures of the night, my friend, you will have finally cast your eyes upon pure evil." Robin said gravely.

"Like we haven't met with it before!" Will scowled. "And the Sheriff isn't evil enough? Sounds to me like we can handle it."

"No, Will. Comparing Nottingham to these… dead people is like comparing a hungry lion to a teddy bear." Robin said with his eyebrow quirked over his blue eyes knowingly.

"You jest!" Will exclaimed, incredulously. He shook his head and his long dark, stringy hair lashed about his face.

"No, friend. I do not."

"You must have a plan?" Will asked.

"Yes. I have something in motion for today at midday. Matheus is lending us the use of his barn to address some of the men from the village about what we spoke about last night." Robin explained.

"How are you going to get them to help us, Robin? Without telling them about these… revenants – vampires – whatever you call them! They need to know what we know." Will said firmly.

"I do not know, but I don't think telling them is wise." Locksley sighed.

"Well, good luck, mate. I think you're going to need it." Will shook his head. He wasn't being his usual sarcastic self. Locksley knew he was right. Both of them knew the task ahead of them was going to present a challenge.

Barbata, the difficult to manage, newborn vampire, sat on a rock near to Sheriff Draconis' throne, pouting and fidgeting as an overpowering hunger threatened to overcome her. When she disappointed her Sheriff by acting out and slamming the human Sheriff against the wall of Draconis' cave she expected her punishment to be harsh. She expected it to be immediate. He asked her then to wait by his throne to hear her sentence, but instead of quick and cruel punishment, she was sentenced to wait to hear how she would be dealt with. Waiting interminably these last two nights!

Would he have her staked? Surely not! This was her first offense to him – if she cast aside that comment recently on his cheap looking cloak – and his cheap looking protégé, Lictina! She frowned and pushed her luminous blond locks from her milky white cheek and sighed. Hmm. Perhaps that remark was unwise?

So far she only knew of one consequence to her misdeed. A huge feast was going on right this very moment in the cave. The pleasured sounds of satisfied vampires as they feasted were easily drowning out the screams of the prisoners procured by the Sheriff of Nottingham as Sheriff Draconis' most lavish feast to date unfolded before her eyes. She was ordered to sit still on the rock to the right of the throne beside her Sheriff and simply observe. She was forced to watch. Forced to smell the enticing aroma of fresh, human blood, yet she was forbidden to feed. For the last two nights she was withheld blood to sustain her. The vampire maiden grew weak.

"Please, Sheriff." She whispered urgently as she looked up at him to her left and pleaded with her now empty brown eyes.

The vampire Sheriff of Region two turned to her with his eyebrow quirked over his piercing green eyes. His black velvet cloak lined in red satin draped fluidly over his throne and fell to his shiny black boots. "You speak?" He remarked as he shook his long, raven hair. "You beg? What – getting hungry, little vamp?" The Sheriff asked with a laugh.

"I am weakened, master." The vampire maiden whispered weakly.

"Ah… too bad!" Draconis grinned wickedly, then quickly changed his expression. "I've decided on your punishment, my wilful little vamp!" Draconis hissed as he sipped blood of the first victim of the evening's festivities from an ornate golden goblet. He made a face and frowned after he swallowed while peering into his cup.

She only sat quietly looking in his direction. She was slowly learning to control her quick and abrasive tongue.

Draconis looked back to her and sneered. "Herewith, you are assigned to be my spy. I need you to keep an eye on Northman and also to sneak a visit into Nottingham Castle." The Sheriff sighed. "I don't know why, but something about that human Sheriff gives me a vile taste in my mouth."

"You need me to spy?" Barbata replied, shaking her head, bewildered. "Me?"

"Yes! You! This is your punishment, or do you forget?" Draconis reminded her.

"No, master, but in my defense, had I known he was working for – "

"It does not matter! It is irrelevant what you knew! You consistently act without thinking. You must improve your cunning and you shall begin this very night."

"Yes, Sheriff." Barbata sighed resignedly.

"Good. That is better. You are forthwith appointed as my spy. Do whatever you must – glamour Nottingham's guards, whatever it takes – and see what he's up to. The human Sheriff is providing us blood but I can smell greed a century away and I'm sure you'll find he's scheming at something." Draconis huffed as he took another sip of the blood.

"Yes. And Northman?" She asked.

"I'm almost certain Northman is sheltering Licks. From time to time Eric and his protégé, Gisborne, drop in on the human Sheriff. That shall narrow your points of interest to two places: Nottingham Castle, and Eric's manor." Draconis grinned.

"It is true then. The rumours. She left you." Barbata blurted, then immediately realized her folly and looked away.

"Silence! You're in no position to move those lips of yours more than necessary!" He barked.

Barbata nodded weakly and looked to her lap.

"You shall protect him as well." Draconis suddenly added.

"Whom, Sheriff Draconis?" She asked.

"The Sheriff of Nottingham – the mere mortal you nearly killed!" Draconis spat.

"I see."

"If glamouring him doesn't work you shall tell him I sent you to protect him as punishment for harming him." An evil grin began to form, curling the vampire Sheriff's raven black mustache. "He'll believe it. He reeked of fear!" Draconis laughed maniacally.

Barbata nodded silently.

"Be my eyes and ears about Nottingham, Barbata." Sheriff Draconis began. "In the village. Surrounding area. In Nottingham Castle. Now that the human Sheriff is working for me he shall have dealings with Eric. Eric is Gisborne's maker. Guy is the Sheriff of Nottingham's cousin. See how this all ties up rather neatly? If Northman is harbouring Licks, Gisborne might mention something to his cousin about it." The vampire Sheriff smiled triumphantly. "And that is where you shall come in." He added with a wink.

"Do you doubt the human Sheriff's promise to continue to deliver the goods, Sheriff? Is that why you wish me to observe him?" Barbata inquired.

"You are too smart for your own good, brat – at times." Draconis sighed. "Once I refine your rough edges and if you prove yourself to me now, I can promise you great rewards as my… mole." He winked.

"Right, but Sheriff, you did not answer my question?" Barbata began. "Do you doubt the human Sheriff?"

"Hmm." Draconis mused as he rubbed his chin. "Not in this matter. No." He smiled. "He'll get us blood. He's too full of himself to wish to die. Too proud to wish to turn." Draconis narrowed his eyes. "A curious entity, really." He muttered as he sipped again from his goblet, then resisted the urge to spit it out. He looked to Barbata who nodded.

"I don't understand, Sheriff. Why am I to protect him?" Barbata asked.

"Ah, there you are, my obtuse, hot headed one!" Draconis laughed as he patted her head then straightened his face immediately. "Because he is bringing us blood, Missy – plenty of it! You wanna bite the hand that feeds you? Oh, right. You did more than that. You would have succeeded in killing him if not for my being there to see it, and Gisborne who healed him! Fool!" He spat.

"Yes, Sheriff." Barbata muttered.

"Now for the semantics. You're familiar with Northman's manor aren't you?"

"Yes, Sheriff." Barbata nodded. "He hosted that whore roast last Midsummer's Night if you recall?" She smiled.

"Ah, yes. Indeed, he did." Draconis frowned as he recalled finding Lictina there that night after yet another lengthy absence! He sighed. "Good. You are ready to begin. You know Northman's location and Satan knows you shan't have trouble finding the human Sheriff's castle." The vampire Sheriff spat. "A monstrosity that nearly manages to swallow up the entire, sodding village!" He shook his head and frowned. "No wonder his people hate him. Look what he spends their taxes on!"

"The Sheriffs collect for the King, Sheriff. They must give most of the tax money to him. My husband was a tax collector for the Sheriff of York." Barbata added with a smirk of satisfaction.

"Bah! Their King is absent, fool! Do not change the subject!" He barked. "You shall begin tonight." The vampire Sheriff said firmly as he narrowed his eyes upon hers.

"Aye, Sheriff, but must I go alone?" Barbata asked. She was feeling weaker by the minute from the lack of blood these last two nights and feared for her safety. "I fear I am lacking in the strength needed to – "

"Wrong! Guess again." Sheriff Draconis frowned as he tapped his boot impatiently and pierced into her eyes. "I told you your cunning was lacking, Missy, and with this assignment you shall learn it!"

"I will try." Barbata nodded.

"No, brat! You'll succeed! Failure in meeting your task is not without consequence. Give me the whereabouts of my protégé and I just might reconsider… feasting on your mortal husband!" Sheriff Draconis snapped. He leaned in uncomfortably toward her and stared into her eyes with his narrowed feline, green pools.

"No!" Barbata gasped with her eyes widened in horror.

"Ah, or better yet – you shall turn him, and your dear hearts mortal children shall be orphaned! Got that, little Bat?"

Barbata nodded. "Protect the human Sheriff from harm – "

"Yes. And what else must you accomplish?" Draconis asked pointedly with his eyebrow quirked.

"Find Licks." She smiled.

"Yes, my little vamp." Draconis grinned. "Find her, but do not let her know you're watching her. We shall meet at regular intervals for your reports on the matter. When you've found her you'll alert me immediately on her whereabouts. Is that understood?" He asked with his cat green eyes narrowed upon her.

"Yes, Sheriff. It shall be done." The vampire maiden nodded.

Benedictus Draconis smiled. The vampire maiden sighed and looked downcast. Her eyelids grew heavy and she needed to close them just for a moment. She was jolted suddenly as he shook her.

"Don't fade on me now, vamp. You've a mission to begin!" Draconis said sharply.

"Sheriff, I'm hungry. But I must rest. I am too tired to even feed." Barbata pleaded for his mercy.

"I have no patience for weak vampires!" Draconis spat. "Don't try that damsel – vampire – in distress bollocks with me! Don't you know, little Bat? Weak vampires are a lower species than even humans!" He set his goblet down on the stalagmite to his left and stood before her. She cried out when he kicked her shin. "Get up!" He shouted at her, kicking her again. "Part of learning cunning comes from being resourceful. You shall feed tonight – but not here in my cave! Not at this feast." Draconis said firmly.

Barbata stood weakly and looked up at him, fearful of the consequences of angering him for a second time. Or was it more than that now?

"Trust me. You're not missing anything anyway. They taste like donkey dung!" Draconis sneered as he nodded toward the pile of corpses and the still living, dirty prisoners the vampires feasted on. He made a mental note to tell the human Sheriff to have them bathed next time. "I dare say a rabid rat would taste more palatable than those foul breathers!" Draconis added with a look of utter distaste.

"I don't understand?" Barbata muttered.

"Oh, come now – you can't be that weakened! There are plenty of creatures to choose from out there to feed from." He smiled as he pointed toward the mouth of the cave.

Barbata swallowed.

Draconis sighed and folded his arms.

"Look – you're lucky you're dealing with me. I'm the reasonable Sheriff! Have I ever told you about my friend – the very powerful and brilliantly evil Primus Mortelum? Of Region one?" Sheriff Draconis asked with his eyebrow quirked knowingly.

"No, Sheriff. You haven't." She replied.

"You never want to meet him. Word of warning – don't get into trouble up north, little Bat. He makes me look like a cuddly little housecat!" Draconis winked with a devious grin. Again he raised his outstretched, pointed finger and indicated the exit. "Begin your task, vamp." He commanded in a soft, yet even tone.

"Yes, master." Barbata sighed and moved slowly toward it, praying she'd find food in a hurry – or else she knew she would die.

Shortly after the vampire maiden staggered weakly out of his cave, a tall, dark vampire with long black hair approached the Sheriff.

"Ah, Raven. There you are! Go offer a sword to Barbata, won't you? I fear she's too weak to kill a deer by the usual means." Draconis laughed.

Raven grinned. He'd been assisting the vampire Sheriff for the last two years – a Saracen who was captured in the Holy Land and brought back to England a prisoner. He and his fellow comrades were sent to Nottingham by a very satisfied Prince John to be put to work by the human Sheriff in some way, he did not know, but was turned soon after he escaped capture while en route to Nottingham from London.

"There's still some of those filthy prisoners left, Sheriff. You want a refill?" Raven nodded toward the Sheriff's golden goblet.

"No, but that reminds me – before you go to Barbata, tell them to go." Draconis said as he pointed to the vampires." The feast is over."

"But, Ben, there's plenty left and the vampires are hungry!" Raven pointed out.

"I care not!" Draconis spat and stood up from his throne. "This is my cave and the damned party is over! We must save some for tomorrow night. And this time they'll be clean!" He huffed. "Chain up the prisoners who are left and for Satan's sake have them washed! I don't care if you toss them in a water trough, just clean them up!"

"Yes, Sheriff." Raven sighed.

"And don't forget to take a sword to Barbata." Draconis called after him. "Silly little bat is about to fall over!" He shook his head and drank again from his goblet. He wondered if having the prisoners cleaned up would improve the taste of their blood somewhat? He spat out the blood on the stone floor then headed to the back where he was keeping a consort chained up just for dining emergencies such as these.

The meeting was underway in a barn belonging to a farmer outside of Nottingham Village and conveniently located en route to Sherwood. A gathering of men from the village were there to meet with Robin and his men. On Friday night, Robin, Friar Tuck, Little John and Azeem reported back to the men at camp what the Merchant of Magick had told them about vampires and how to kill them. As the rain pelted upon the roof of the barn while the crowd grew noisy, Locksley thought about his discussion last night with his men.

"So, where are we getting all of this silver you say we need for making new arrowheads?" Will asked after Robin had explained the particular methods needed to kill the beasts.

"We must ask for help from the people. The matter is too great for just us to solve. Even if we sneak into Nottingham's vault and find all of his silver and rob him of it!" Robin spat.

"No!" Little John exclaimed sharply. "We don't take from them. We help the people, Robin!"

"We are, John. Trust me. We fight these creatures for the people of Nottingham. Maybe even the good of England. We must! We need to warn them too – without creating mass hysteria." Robin added with a sigh.

"A difficult task, Christian." Azeem spoke suddenly. "You ask the people of Nottingham to help us but you do not tell them what it is we're fighting. What they should fear."

"How can I?" Robin demanded. "Who would believe it? No one would want to!"

"Then – how?" Little John asked.

"I must give the matter some thought. Any ideas are welcome." Locksley added dryly.

They sent word around the village early Saturday morning to meet at Matheus Busby's barn at midday. Word spread quickly and now there was a fairly large gathering of men inside of the barn, sheltered from the rain that tapped on the roof above them.

Robin and his men stood before them. The archer raised his arms up while Little John loudly tapped his quarterstaff upon the floor to call their attention and the men looked toward Locksley, curious as to what their local hero could possibly wish to speak to them about?

"Good people of Nottingham, I have called you here on a matter of urgency." Robin began. "I need your help and I beg for your trust. My men and I must make silver arrowheads to fight an army bent on destroying our village, but alas, their power is great and we lack the quantity of silver to meet the task. Thus we need your help. Without pure silver our mission is doomed from the start." He said as he looked to all of their faces.

The town butcher shook his head and narrowed his eyes. "You ask us to give you what little valuable silver we have – for what exactly? Does this have anything to do with the rumours of the Spanish steel the Sheriff is using now?" He asked Locksley.

"No, Cyrus. I'm afraid this is a slightly bigger problem than our infamous Sheriff." Robin frowned.

The men of Nottingham Village gasped collectively then began to shout excitedly. The bow craftsman of the village spoke out next.

"Robin, I demand you explain to us the meaning of this! If it's not the Sheriff – is it Prince John's men? The Celts? An invasion of Saracens? If you want our help you best be out with it!" The tall man urged him.

"You're close, Samson." Robin sighed and shook his head.

"Tell us!" An older gentleman with balding, curly gray hair exclaimed. "Gisborne burned my village in Clun. I thought you people were on a mission to rid us of him and the Sheriff?"

"Where have you been? We are rid of Gisborne!" Cyrus exclaimed. "The Sheriff killed him!"

"So, then let's get the Sheriff next!" The old man said. Then he pointed to Hood and his men and laughed. "Well – they can do it!"

Little John and Azeem looked to Robin and shook their heads. Will rolled his eyes. The men of the village grew restless and were engaged in spirited discussion on the matter and shouted incoherently at times. They grew louder and began talking amongst themselves. Will loaded his bow and quickly fired an arrow to the wall behind them, whirring only a foot above their heads. That worked very nicely. Will grinned and nodded to Locksley.

Robin took a breath then called out to them. "Men! Men! You must listen to me! We have a greater concern than the Sheriff!"

The men quieted to give him the floor.

"Listen – I would not ask anything of you if I seriously believed I could handle this mission alone." Locksley sighed as he looked upon each of their faces. "But I cannot. Me and my men cannot do this alone. We need your help. My men and I must make silver arrowheads to fight… them. My plans for saving Nottingham still remain – but there will be no Nottingham as we know it if me and my men don't deal with this first." Robin stated firmly. "This issue threatens us all – I dare say even the good Sheriff of Nottingham." He added.

The men looked horrified and curious at the same time. They couldn't imagine anything worse than their Sheriff's evil.

Matheus, the farmer who donated the use of his barn for the meeting spoke up just then. His shoulder length, chestnut hair lashed about his face as he shook his head incredulously at what Locksley was hinting at. Still, he trusted him and his merry little rabble. He looked around to the men gathered.

"Gentleman. Robin and his men have never let us down. They have always helped us. Risked their lives to help us! Can we not return the favour now?" He asked of them.

"Hmm. You do have a point." Samson agreed.

"We are doing this to help you." Little John reminded the men of the village as he planted his quarterstaff firmly upon the ground. "You must trust Robin!" He implored them.

The men nodded, curious what this was about. An invisible shadow formed and hovered then in the barn creating a ripple effect of gooseflesh amongst them. It was fear.

"There is one more thing." Robin announced.

The men looked upon him questioningly.

"Great danger lurks after the sun sets. Keep yourselves and your families safe. Stay indoors if you can after sundown. Heed my words." Locksley warned them.

"Robin, what is going on?" Samson demanded. The tall man with the brown wavy hair walked toward the archer and stood before him. "Look. If you're looking to make mass quantities of arrows, it would seem to me you're going to need plenty more bows to fire them. So you better tell me what in the devil this is about if you want me to keep supplying you!" Samson huffed as he folded his arms and fixed his green eyes upon Locksley.

"He's right! You must tell us!" Eustace Bromley, the town swordsmith shouted.

"What?" Cyrus, the butcher yelled. He looked to Robin. "Who invited him?" He demanded as he nodded toward Eustace. "Did you?"

"What's wrong with you?" Eustace asked the butcher.

"Oh, I don't know." The short, stout butcher seethed as he folded his arms and turned back to face the swordsmith. "I'm just wondering why you were invited to this meeting. You work for the Sheriff!" Cyrus shouted.

"Only some of the time! A man must make a living!" Eustace bellowed.

"Yah, and I noticed you have a fine new horse too!" Cyrus shrieked.

"Men! Calm down!" Robin called over them. "You were all called here because you're good men and you care about Nottingham. All of you." He said firmly as he cast a scornful glance upon Cyrus. "I need all of you to see what you can do about getting the people of the village to spare a little silver. I figure we could fashion a good arrowhead out of maybe three to five silver pieces, so even a little bit from every family will go a long way." Robin explained.

"Robin – tell us what this is about." Samson said quietly.

"Yes, Robin. We need to know. You say it's not the Sheriff, or any of the things Samson mentioned. So what else is it? Are we at war?" Matheus asked.

"In a sense… yes." Robin sighed as he paced in front of them.

"Tell them, mate." Little John spoke.

"You must, Christian." Azeem agreed.

Locksley kept shaking his head vehemently as he continued pacing.

Bull and Much looked at each other shaking their heads, then looked again to their leader.

"Come on, Robin. It's the only way." Bull said.

"He's right – for once." Much said to Locksley as he nodded to his friend – who whacked him on the back of his head.

"Locksley…. you know you must!" Will exclaimed.

"Tell us!" Eustace demanded.

Robin of Locksley looked to each of his men. He didn't want to tell the villagers. Didn't know how to begin to tell the villagers. He looked to his men and each of them nodded and confirmed in their glances that he had no other choice. How to tell them? How?

"Robin. Just tell them the truth." Friar Tuck smiled.

Locksley nodded, then looked back to the villagers. He took a deep breath then began. He prayed he could make them believe… somehow.

"It is not so much an army we must fight – well, not an army of men." He sighed and shook his head. His sandy blond hair caught the light coming through the beams. Robin looked to Little John. "They'll never believe it." He muttered.

"Try us, Robin." Samson said.

"Have any of you ever heard of revenants?" Locksley suddenly asked of them.

"Bah! Mythical dead people who walk the earth!" Cyrus chortled.

"Well, these creatures are a bit like revenants – only worse. The purest evil there is – I am certain of it." Robin said as he walked closer toward the villagers, then paced back and forth in front of them as he began to address them. He was talented at speaking and holding attention from a large crowd. "They are creatures of the night known as vampires, gentleman." He continued. "They sprout fangs and possess great power. Some of my men and I were at a vampire cave a few nights ago and we saw them. We saw them eat… living, breathing people. Ordinary citizens like us, men!" Robin exclaimed in horror, still shocked and haunted by the memory of it.

"No!" Matheus exclaimed.

"It cannot be! You cannot be serious, Robin!" Samson shrieked in horror.

"It is true, friends." Little John told them. "Robin does not lie to you."

"One of the sure things that will kill them is silver." Robin announced.

"So that is why you need the silver." Cyrus stated.

"Yes. We need it desperately." Robin said.

"This is a trick!" The old man from Clun shouted in protest. "Vampires! Bah! Who ever heard of vampires?"

"The man does have a point, Robin." Matheus sighed.

"You need proof, gentlemen? Then you are absolutely right. I shall show you. Tonight you shall see." Locksley said firmly, astonishing all who were present.

"No, Christian!" Azeem admonished. "It is too dangerous!"

"My barbarian friend is right, Robin. From what Thurstin said, we best be staying away from that cave!" Friar Tuck said with a shudder.

"No. Tonight we go to Dead Man's Curve. All of us." Robin said as he looked back to the villagers. He folded his arms in front of him and stood firmly in front of them. "But you must heed my words – we remain outside of the cave. None of you will venture in. To do so is begging for your death. Without the right weapons to fight these indomitable creatures I can assure you there is no way possible that my men or I can begin to save you from them. Do you understand me?" He demanded of the villagers.

They all nodded and agreed to it.

"Good." Robin said then looked over at Matheus. "If it's alright with you we shall meet back here at nightfall."

"That's fine, Robin." Matheus nodded.

"My men and I shall lead the way to the cave near Dead Man's Curve. But one more thing – since we're being forthcoming today, you must know one more thing." Robin sighed.

Azeem and Little John narrowed their eyes, wondering what Locksley thought he was leaving out. The villagers looked upon him questioningly.

"We believe that…. Gisborne is one of these vampires." Robin announced.

Azeem sighed and shook his head.

"No! You're wrong! I watched him die, Robin! I carried him to his deathbed with the Sheriff's blacksmith as my witness! He was nearly sawed in half!" Eustace Bromley gasped as he genuflected. Even the Sheriff's Lieutenant didn't deserve that death.

"Oh, I believe you, Eustace. He died, alright. But he was turned and made vampire – also known as immortal, after his death." Robin said.

"Imm…. Immortal?" Cyrus, the butcher swallowed dryly.

"Oh, right. Yah. Did we forget to mention that little point? They won't die. They'll live forbloodyever, mate, if we don't kill them properly!" Will exclaimed excitedly.

"Yes, Will." Robin nodded and resisted the urge to laugh. He was glad for the humour injection just then.

"If Eustace saw him die, how are you sure that Sir Gisborne is one of these night creatures you speak of, Robin?" Matheus asked.

"Because Azeem and I saw him in that cave. He was standing there. The only way he could be safe amongst those heinous creatures is if he was made one of them. That is my opinion, but I think it's a safe guess." Robin said.

"Vampires! Bah! I still say nobody ever heard of such of thing!" Cyrus scoffed.

"He's right, Robin." Samson, the talented bow craftsman said. "You tell me. And you're sure of this… because?" Samson demanded as he folded his arms.

"Because some of my men and I met with a man who has studied these creatures."

"Right. Who would study a creature like that – if a creature like that exists at all?" Cyrus challenged.

"Someone who met with one – face to face." Robin said.

A pregnant silence lingered in the air as the men of the village each conveyed varying looks of astonishment.

"Leave me out of it. I'm too old for this kind of excitement." The old man from Clun sighed.

"Very well." Locksley said. "I warn you all that if you're faint of heart – do not show up here at nightfall. Otherwise, come – and be prepared for a sight that will be forever engraved in your minds. If this is what you need to believe what we say to you now, then come and heed all of my instructions. You must agree before we leave here tonight that you will always obey me. If you don't then you won't be permitted to join us, and one of my men will see to it you return home. Is that clear?"

"Aye." They all shouted in unison.

Locksley took another breath. He knew this was a risky move but these men would never cooperate if they couldn't see for just a moment what it was they were fighting for, and he desperately needed the people's help to carry out this task before him.

On Saturday at midday the Sheriff of Nottingham sat quietly in his den sipping his favourite brandy which he dubbed 'the tincture of rapture', given to him by monks of the Benedictine Order. He was grateful his day was free of the usual mundane duties as he sat quietly contemplating his lovely vampire maiden who slept… did she sleep? – In his trunk which lie at the foot of his bed. He couldn't believe the lady he'd been looking for was lying in a trunk in the light of day, but stranger things had happened to him and she was damn good at pleasing him so who was he to dwell on the particulars of the matter? But he was increasingly curious as to what his counsel had learned upon her meeting with the Friar who supplies her, especially now that his lady love was one of these curious creatures.

Where was Mortianna? It was high noon! Why hadn't she summoned him to discuss her meeting with the Merchant of Magick? The Sheriff arose from his comfortable chair positioned near to the fireplace and went through the heavy oak door and then down the steep steps that led into Mortianna's apothecary. When he arrived at the bottom of the circular staircase, he opened the creaking door and called out to her, still with the brandy goblet held in his other hand.

The crone slowly emerged from the blue haze that enveloped the chamber – the result of her potion brewing in her cauldron.

"Oh, good day, child." The witch muttered sleepily as she rubbed the corners of her eyes.

"What happened to you?" The Sheriff asked. "You look like you just crawled out of bed – or out of a grave in your case." He chortled.

"I indulged in a few soothing cups of batwing tea last eve, child. I was rather unnerved after my meeting with Friar Capellarius, but I learned a great deal which should interest you." She smiled.

"Really?" The Sheriff asked with a grin.

"Indeed, child. I believe you shall be pleased with the information I gathered." The witch nodded.

"Good. Indulge me then. Tell me what you learned." The Sheriff said unblinking while he savoured a sip of the brandy.

Mortianna sighed then looked up to her master. "Vampires are a little different than revenants. They are formidable creatures that live forever, milord. They do not age. To be made one they are bitten by a vampire, then forced to drink vampire blood, and then buried with the vampire who turned them. To kill them is a little tricky, but only certain things will work." Mortianna stated.

The Sheriff shook his head with his eyes widened in astonishment when Mortianna explained how one becomes a vampire. He took another sip of the brandy to calm him as he thought about his lovely Lady Lictina.

"And how is a vampire killed?" The Sheriff asked.

"They can be killed by silver, sunlight, burning, holy water – although it hasn't been proven as effective as the other means. And the most sure method is by a wooden stake through the heart." The crone explained as she went back to her cauldron to stir the bubbling potion.

"Hmm. Sunlight." The Sheriff mumbled. "So that is why they sleep during the day and are only known to venture out at night." The Sheriff surmised.

"Yes, child, but how did you know that?" Mortianna asked with her eyebrow quirked.

"Because… Gisborne is one of them now." The Sheriff replied. "It is true. My cousin is a vampire." Better for him to finally admit it to her than tell her he had a beautiful, dark haired vampire maiden upstairs asleep in his bedchamber… in a trunk!

"Aye. That, I knew, child. Remember?" Mortianna prodded him.

"Yes, but I never actually admitted it or commented much about it. It doesn't matter anyway. You did well, crone." The Sheriff said. He ran his fingers through his wavy, raven black hair while he sipped again from his goblet.

"Thank you, child, but there is more." The witch hinted.

The Sheriff's left eyebrow shot north as he looked at her curiously. She put the wooden stick down on a table beside the cauldron and walked toward him, oblivious to a rat that scurried on the stone floor beside her boot.

"My friend, the Merchant of Magick, had another visitor to his manor just hours before I arrived there, asking the same questions about vampires." Mortianna said.

"Whom?" The Sheriff demanded, his eyebrow quirked again.

"Robin of Locksley." Mortianna sighed.

"Hood! What was his business with him?" The Sheriff snapped.

"He saw the cave, milord. He saw them inside of it. There's a cave somewhere in Sherwood Forest near Dead Man's Curve. Vampires gather in there. Locksley saw this cave and that is why he met with the Friar. He heard of him through Friar Tuck." Mortianna said with her eyebrow quirked knowingly.

"Curses! That's all I need! That silly, peasant loving Prince of Thieves sticking his nose in and getting involved! What did he want of that Friar friend of yours… specifically speaking?"

"The same as you, milord Sheriff. He wanted to know how to kill them." Mortianna said.

"Damn that cursed, little hooded viper!" The Sheriff barked. He looked to Mortianna. "I'll be back later – I have more questions for you on the matter, but right now I have an announcement for the people of Nottingham." The Sheriff seethed as he bounded for the door.

He met with his Lieutenant and his tax collector not long after that in the Council Quarters.

"I need you two to go into the village. Tell the people of Nottingham Village that there is a new tax. A new tax to better their Sheriff's militia. We need silver. We need plenty of it and we need it now." The Sheriff explained. "Henceforth, all families and every merchant in Nottingham must pay a mandatory tax of fifty pieces of silver. I'm being damn generous with the impetuous lot of them too! I would have demanded one hundred pieces of them, but hell - you surely cannot get blood out of stone, can you?" The Sheriff rolled his eyes and huffed. He poured water from a silver flask into a goblet and took a sip just then.

"What?" Gregor, his tax collector, shook his head. "Silver? With all due respect, milord – you must be joking. Why not gold pieces, milord?" He asked.

"Because it is silver I need, and silver I shall have! I am going to have it melted down. We shall make weapons and pieces of armour with it!" The Sheriff announced excitedly.

"What? George, what do we need silver for? Seriously – we have all the alloys we need in the armoury to make these items? Why not use the silver for what it is – currency?" Nichol pointed out.

"No! I do not care about the alloys in the armoury! I want silver and damn it – I shall have my silver! While you're at it, have the the noblemen and their families donate their silver jewelery, flatware, and their cursed silver tea services too! And do not forget the churches and monasteries! After that I'm sending you to the rest of the villages in the county. I do not want to see any silver anywhere in the cursed shire when you're done except in my vault! Now, you two go into the sodding village this very instant and get me the cursed silver! Now!" The Sheriff bellowed.

His men nodded, their curiousity piqued. They were bewildered by their master's request, but obeyed him notwithstanding and turned to prepare to leave the chamber to carry out his order.

"Wait!" The Sheriff called to them.

His men turned around to face their master.

"Take some reinforcements with you." He looked to his newly appointed Lieutenant. "Nic - you know what to do. Surely you learned a few things from Gisborne? His men are your men now. Take them with you. You're going to need their assistance when most of the villagers tell you their cursed tales of their starving babies. Their poor families in the leper colony. Their old and dying, blind mothers! The unwed mothers and the widows! Poor, poor, wretched souls! Woe - is - me!" The Sheriff snapped. "I don't give a rat's backside what their excuses are for not giving you the silver. If they do not cooporate, burn their homes and or businesses to the sodding ground! Are we clear, gentleman?"

"Yes, milord." They replied in unison.

Later that night in Nottingham's quarters he sat on his bed staring at the trunk. The sun had set an hour ago but she hadn't wakened yet. He walked over to the window and gazed out of it. Suddenly he heard the doors to his bedchamber throw open and he turned around. Before he could draw a breath or even reach for his sword tucked safely into the sheath attached to his belt, his former Lieutenant was standing before him, his fangs gleaming by the light cast from the torches burning that ensconced the walls of the chamber.

"Dear Zeus. You again! She is not awake yet." The Sheriff sighed, nodding to the trunk.

He slowly pulled the hood of his black velvet cloak down and smiled at his cousin. "Good. This is between us." Gisborne grinned malevolently.

"You cannot have her!" The Sheriff snapped.

"Or else – what?" Gisborne hissed as he grabbed the Sheriff by the collar of his doublet and lifted him off of the floor.

The Sheriff swallowed dryly and Gisborne set him back down.

"You can have her, cousin. You shall get your just dessert!" Guy laughed. "Lictina is Sheriff Draconis' lady, and you've just buggered around with the wrong vampire, cuz!" Gisborne grinned deviously.

"It's about damn time you grew a bloody backbone, cousin." The Sheriff sneered, unfazed by his cousin's new found powers. "Where the hell was it when I needed it...hmm? Look at you. You had to turn into a hellhound in order to fit in." Nottingham grinned.

"Damn." Gisborne whispered with his eyebrow quirked. He leaned in and sniffed at Nottingham's neck. "Mmm. You smell good, cousin. Very savoury for some... unknown reason. I could just pierce that rotten hide of yours right now with my razor sharp fangs!" Guy whispered into Nottingham's ear then licked at his neck to further raise the hairs on the back of the Sheriff's neck.

"What do you want?" Nottingham demanded.

"Oh, don't think that just because we're related and that you're sort of working for Draconis that my business with you is finished." Gisborne said as he patted the Sheriff's cheek then slowly wrapped his cold hands around the Sheriff's throat. He pierced into Nottingham's soul with his steely gray eyes, unblinking. The Sheriff had that uncomfortable feeling again that Gisborne was reading his mind.

"You going to turn me into one of you lot? Be done with it then!" The Sheriff said sharply with a steely gaze.

"No. That would be too much fun for you. I'd rather drain you then send you straight to hell." Guy whispered coldly.

"Then do it." Nottingham challenged, his amber hazel eyes fixed upon his cousin as they narrowed.

"Nah. Not tonight. I'd rather toy with you and watch you squirm. Besides, I'm not in the mood for it. I rather fancy something a little more palatable and sweet." Gisborne grinned wickedly with his eyebrow quirked. "What do you think, cuz? I was thinking Lady Marian might taste rather tantalizing. She is supposedly a virgin – am I right?" Gisborne mused as he rubbed his chin in contemplation.

"How the devil shall I know? You stay away from her!" Nottingham shrieked.

"Ah…that gets to you, doesn't it, cuz? The thought of my feasting on your precious Lady Marian? Then what shall Lictina think of you? That you would care so much for a mortal, virgin maiden?" Gisborne grinned.

"Look – you leave the both of them out of this! You stay the hell away from Lady Marian, and you leave Lictina alone!" Nottingham barked. "You want me? You take me! You can have my blood now, cousin, but don't you dare lay a finger on the Lady Marian, and you leave my Lady Lictina alone!" Nottingham implored him.

"We shall see." Gisborne sighed noncommittally. Then he grabbed the Sheriff by his collar and pulled him toward him as he continued. "Either way it's coming for you, cupcake." Gisborne sneered as he patted his cousin's face in a patronizing fashion. "When you least expect it and without any warning at all – I will be there. You can bet on it. We're not done, cousin. I promise you that." Gisborne hissed as he narrowed his steel gray eyes upon the Sheriff.

The Sheriff raised his eyebrow questioningly at his former Lieutenant. What did he care? A beautiful vampire maiden loved him. She would protect him from Gisborne. That and a few of the silver arrowheads he was planning to make with the people of Nottingham's silver. Ah, yes. And he mustn't forget the holy water he was going to procure from the Bishop of Hereford for the Holy Water bombs he was planning to make! He suppressed a satisfied grin. He hoped there would be enough silver left to make a few helms with it. What a delightful way to capture and torment one of these... it people. Like his former Lieutenant, or that despicable beast who dares to use the noble title of 'Sheriff' - Draconis! They could never get to Lady Marian or Lictina then, and by Zeus - he just might win the favour of His Majesty, Prince John, for saving Nottingham from the likes of these it creatures! Of course he would have to continue to hide his lady, Lictina, but that could be easily achieved.

"You have your fun with Lictina." Guy continued in a raw whisper, jolting Nottingham from his thoughts. "Either way - you're dead. By the hand of Benedictus Draconis or by my own, but you will die in the end, cousin, so have your fun with her whilst you can." Gisborne grinned then he was gone in a flash. He left the chamber in a blur and the Sheriff stood there chilled to his bones, astonished at his cousin's words, and how quickly Gisborne entered and left the chamber.