The residents of Collinsport exert their Second Amendment rights and take it upon themselves to hunt down the vampire terrorizing the town.


Meanwhile, in the once sleepy little fishing village, security got even tighter. As the murders continued, Willie and now Barnabas were indeed reduced to feeding from woodland creatures. And even that often proved difficult as the forests were regularly patrolled.

"Hold it right there, you two!" They turned to see a small, blonde woman and curly-haired man approach them with loaded guns. "Just what are—oh, Cousin Barnabas, it's you," Carolyn said. "And Wi—Willie Loomis? I thought Maggie blew you to smithereens."

"Oh, that…turned out it was some other guy who looked like me. Even Mr. Collins here was fooled. So the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated," Willie said. "Mark Twain," he annotated the quotation to Barnabas.

"You dudes shouldn't be out here at night unarmed," Buzz interjected, lowering his rifle. "There's a maniac vampire on the loose. We're hunting him down." Willie looked at him incredulously. "It was her idea," he added.

"I have heard as much," Barnabas responded. "But I'm sure the killer prefers to victimize young ladies, not—dudes such as ourselves."

"That may be the case, but no one is safe," Carolyn said. "And the police are useless, so we're taking the law into our own hands." She held aloft a hand gun which Willie recognized and backed away slightly. The last time he saw it was in the drawing room at Collinwood, and it was pointed at his pecker. Carolyn Stoddard takes shit from nobody.

"I should think hunting a vampire would be very dangerous," the older man warned. "You don't know what you're going up against."

"See, Carolyn, I told you," Buzz muttered through clenched teeth.

"And I told you not to worry, Bertram. I won't let anything happen to you."

The young man turned bright pink as he looked away, but Willie caught his eye. "Bertram?" he mouthed.

"Well, I suggest you get yourselves some guns and use these silver bullets. That's very important." Carolyn held out a handful but both Barnabas and Willie quickly withdrew their hands from view.

"Thank you, that won't be necessary," the older vampire recovered quickly.

"Just an idea," Willie offered, "but why don't you look for him during the day and stake the guy in his coffin?"

"There are others trying to do just that. Personally I want to blow his head off," the young woman responded empathetically. Buzz snorted at her turn of phrase and Willie nodded in compliance, wondering briefly if she was that scary in bed, and whether or not that would be a bad thing.

"Let us not keep you then," Barnabas smiled. "God speed."

"Yeah," Willie added. "May good fortune—" he searched for the next word.

"Attend."

"Attend your endeavors."


"Willie!"

The vampire was behind the house taking pot shots at trees when Barnabas called to him.

"Come inside. What on earth do you think you're doing, and where did you get that firearm?"

"It's mine, I bought it. Gotta protect the homestead against evil doers."

"For which you would need silver bullets, and how do you propose to manage that?"

Barnabas ushered his handyman through the service entrance and into the hallway. "It's just for show," Willie explained, "so folks'll think we're like them, not…like us."

"In which case you do not need any ammunition." The older man held out his hand for the bullets.

"But, Barnabas, everybody else has one—"

"You're too careless. I will not be responsible in the event you actually hit something."

"That's why I need target practice." The young vampire had a thought. "Wait a minute. If we can't touch silver, then how come ya have that wolf cane?"

Barnabas sighed. "The head is made of platinum. Stop equivocating and give me the bullets."

"I'm sorry I saved your life," Willie muttered as he relinquished the cartridges. "Ingrate."

"You will be very sorry if I hear that rifle discharge again. Now drive the truck to Collinwood and pick up Dr. Hoffman."

"How did I get to be the servant 'round here again? Just because I'm what's left since Perfect Harry treated himself to Julia's travelin' drug store."

"Mr. Johnson was far from perfect. You have many enduring qualities that supersede his."

"That's not what ya said before." Willie shook his head. "You sure are fickle."

"If you would rather I engaged a new manservant, you're free to leave." Barnabas turned away and retreated to the parlor, sitting in his favorite chair.

"Maybe, I dunno." Willie trailed after him. "I was doin' pretty good—" What the hell. He dropped the pretense with a sigh. "I don't like being in the secret room," he admitted. "It's boring."

"Try doing it for 185 years."

The young vampire conceded the point and took his usual spot on the floor in front of the fire. He poked absently at the logs for a minute. "I guess I'd like to come back," he said quietly. "If that's okay."

"This is your home, Willie."

The servant looked up, taken aback at the unfamiliar phrase. His home? It had been a long time since he had had a place to call home. When he had lived in the Old House previously, it was a prison, not a refuge. Even his own room, the master had informed him, was no sanctuary when he had been a slave. And now, Willie wanted to voluntarily return? He really was a sick puppy. On the other hand, the present situation was different, for Barnabas was definitely not the same vampire. Maybe the old man was going soft.

"Can I have a bigger bedroom?"

"Yes."

"Will you pay me a salary?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I have always provided your necessities, not to mention luxuries like those expensive prefabricated logs."

Willie shrugged. He still had Jason's stash of cash if he really wanted to buy something, but here was the deal breaker. "And you won't hit me anymore?"

"Not if you don't break anything," Barnabas replied casually. "Oh, and do keep your fist from making contact with my walls in the future."

Willie rose to his feet and stood over the master. "Yeah, well, listen, I'm not gonna be your slave again. It's dif'rent now, 'cause I'm a vampire too, and the last time we had a fight, I won. So, maybe you should be scared a' me."

"I shall remember to tremble in your presence. Now, and I do not like to repeat myself, you will please fetch Dr. Hoffman, after which you may retrieve your coffin. Be certain to cover it with the tarp so no one will see it."

"Yessir."


Even if Barnabas did boss him around, Willie was secretly relieved and happy to be moving back to the Old House and out of that stuffy tomb. As he drove the white pickup truck into marble town, Jason's ghost appeared in the seat beside him.

"Now what do ya want?" the young man demanded.

"Just a warnin' to take care, lad. 'Tis not a good time to be transportin' a coffin. The monster is on the loose and the graveyard is crawlin' with vampire hunters."

"I wish somebody would blow that pain in the ass off the planet," Willie muttered. "Did ya see where I left your sea chest?"

"Aye. And I see you helped yourself to me swag."

"You said I could. Ya got a shitload of money, and it ain't gonna do ya any good, so what's it matter?"

"I worked hard for that cash."

"Jason, ya never worked hard for anythin'," Willie laughed.

"You try cozyin' up to that ice cube of a woman. I earned that score and I want the pleasure of lookin' at it."

"There's plenty left. And I figure some a' that goes to me anyway. Share and share alike, right?"

"Heads up, mate," Jason held up a white finger, cautioning the vampire to be silent. The wrought iron gate to the Collins mausoleum was wide open, and inside someone was rummaging through the dead Irishman's sea chest, scattering its contents in all directions.

"Every man for himself," the ghost whispered and quickly evaporated.

Willie quietly went to the rear of the crypt and scaled the wall. Once on the roof, he trod softly to his usual lookout point. Below he heard the intruder continue to ransack the trunk. Crash! That was the whiskey bottle; he could smell it. He could just imagine Jason weeping at the sight of his Tullamore Dew dripping down the walls.

Willie concealed himself behind the rooftop statue of the seated, sworded angel and observed a solitary figure below, walking among the tombstones. It was a small man, perhaps a teenager, in baggy pants, plaid jacket and hunting cap, the kind with a brim and ear flaps. He carried a long-barrel Enfield rifle. The gunman walked stealthily, searching in the moonlit shadows for the slightest sound or movement. The firearm was cocked as an owl flew by, and again when the wind rustled the leaves in nearby trees. The guy wasn't skittish, but he proceeded with caution.

"Hey, punk, who do ya think you are, posin' in my territory?"

With a start, Willie whirled around to see Harry Johnson standing behind him. The guy who had drank Willie's vampire blood, received transfusions from him, then died suddenly from of overdose of Dr. Hoffman's drug stash. Barnabas and Julia were very sloppy about accidentally creating vampires.

The Collinsport Ghoul appeared a horrifying blue in the lunar luminescence, his red eyes glowed, and his body and torn clothes were matted with dried blood. The other vampire rose to his feet, prepared for battle.

"Who ya callin' punk?" Willie sneered. "I'm a shanty Irish bastard, and you're still a loser."

Harry hissed, baring his fangs, and lunged at his adversary. Willie ducked to the side, causing the bloodsucker to crash into the statue, loosening it from its base. Quickly recovering from the impact, he again sprung at the younger man who kicked him in the nuts and, as he recoiled, delivered a crushing punch to the nose, then to the throat. That always worked on human opponents, but Harry was only temporarily disabled, and the two grappled and rolled across the gravel rooftop.

Ker-blam!

Willie was attempting to disengage the fiend's teeth from his forearm when a bullet fired from below hit the angel and sent a piece of marble wing flying through the air. He leaped up to catch it and whipped the jagged edge across his enemy's face, slicing it open. With a furious roar, the ghoul grabbed Willie and threw him across the flattop roof. He collided with the angel and the impact dislodged it completely, whereupon the statue plummeted to earth and was decapitated on a nearby tombstone.

Willie lost his balance and hit the gravel, almost tumbling over the edge. As he scrambled to his feet, the monster lifted Willie over his head and flung him to the ground below. He flew down in pursuit and towered over the young vampire holding high the marble head of the angel with which he planned to crush his adversary.