The Third
Joe Quimby rapped furiously. Finally, mayor Skinner opened the door.
"Ah. What's this about?"
"My nephew was just murdered! That makes, ah, two of the four of us! I can see the pattern."
Skinner looked coolly concerned.
"What do you propose as a course of action?"
"We go back to the old church."
"Why?"
"Courtley may nawt be dead! If he survived, then he could be behind this! Aht the very least, we can get the body and bury it. The police are, uh, everywhere! We can't let them stumble onto our dark secret."
Skinner's upper lip twitched.
"Fine. Later, around sundown."
The two arrived at the derelict church after five. Quimby had brought a gun with him, in case Hareton Courtley was not dead. They found the church as they had left it, empty and grave, with the silver chalice and ceremonial knife still resting upon the altar. The only thing missing was Hareton Courtley.
"Now," Skinner said, trying to reassure Quimby and himself, "Its possible the hobbos found him, and...buried him under a bridge somewhere."
Quimby looked around, then saw something that had definitely not been there the last time: his niece.
"Oh my God!" he screamed. He rushed over to her. Her skin was cold and pale; her pulse was silent. "No!...no...!" he sobbed. Skinner remained calm and analytical. He noticed that Theresa's lips were an unnaturally bright red, while the rest of her body was a pale blue. Then he saw the small fangs protruding from beneath those ruby lips.
"Joe...Joe! Look! She's...a vampire!"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Her mouth! The fangs!"
"Wha-?"
Skinner rushed over to a nearby pew. He broke loose a board and stood at the edge of the coffin in which Theresa lay.
"What are you doing? Get away from her!"
"I have to do this Joe. Its the only way."
"The hell it is!" he said drawing his pistol.
"Joe, don't-!"
Quimby fired. His shot grazed Skinner's side, drawing bright red blood. He cocked the pistol and took aim. Skinner staggered out, clutching his side and moaning. Quimby dropped his pistol and slumped to his knees, crying. Outside, the sun had just passed below the horizon. Behind him materialized Burns, eyes aglow. Quimby sensed the air grow chill he turned, and clamboured to his feet. Hearing movement behind him, Quimby turned. Theresa was sitting up in her coffin, with a look of mad glee onher face.She seized her uncles head, and gave it a sharp twist. His neck snapped, and he fell dead.
"The Third!"