Two steaming hot mugs of coffee in the middle, a snowy night at one o’clock, Peter in the driver’s seat and the civilian vehicle in a watching position across the road from a small, run-down clinic, in one of the worse neighbourhoods of Great Kingston.


    Samantha was almost tempted to say that nothing had changed, but that wouldn’t have been true, or at least she didn’t feel that way, although she was doing some old-fashioned shadowing. “We’ve been here for three hours now,” she noted, shuffling off her coffee. "Maybe we missed the blood transport?"


    "No," murmured a strong but strangely calm male voice from behind. Hagen accompanied the shadowing and leaned out from between the seats so that his broad shoulders were positioned at each corner. "Our information clearly states between zero and two o’clock in the morning."


    Samantha and Peter had not been given exact details. "And who obtained the information?" she asked instinctively. Once a cop, always a cop. "So why were we here so early?"


    "Better before than after and we’ll become a natural part of the neighbourhood," Hagen raised his shoulders. "And according to our information, there are still a few conspicuous figures who sometimes go through the side entrance. So we have a chance of more than just our mission."


    Peter echoed his partner’s scepticism. "I thought Brother Caballero said the knights′ resources were limited at the moment. Who can keep a constant eye on this clinic to say that?"


    Hagen spoke with a certain innocence that didn’t quite match the man’s stature. "Those forgotten by society: Displaced, shunned and deemed worthless - homeless people."


    "I’ve rarely found homeless people to be particularly co-operative," Samantha recalled. She didn’t condemn those living on the streets. Many were usually down on their luck or had simply given up. "Or do the knights have special tricks?"


    "These people have leaders too, or at least people of importance to turn to," Hagen explained, sinking back into the back seat. "You just have to know who they are, although I have to admit that it’s a lot easier to talk to people on the street when you’re not a police officer or a member of the church."


    "And they know that much, eh?" Peter asked, taking a sip of his coffee.


    "Like I said: forgotten and shunned. Hardly anyone cares about such existences. They prefer to stare straight ahead or at their mobile phones. The eyes of the homeless, however, rarely shy away from one direction and because they are ignored, nobody usually cares what they see."


    "And they help? Just like that?"


    "No, we pay for it, of course. Clothes, food, medicine and more. Things that are actually taken for granted, but which are pure gold for the homeless."


    "Money as well?"


    "No, money is extremely rare," said Hagen, his gaze falling on an obvious drug dealer who was serving a few late-night partygoers. "There’s too much danger of addicts snatching money and the community getting nothing out of it. Money also attracts thieves and other unsavoury characters. Money is also more likely to be traced if someone has more than they should have."


    Samantha grinned broadly. "So the knights are scared that the IRS will find out about them?"


    "Brother Caballero once hinted at something like that," Hagen nodded humourlessly. "Greed is one of the most underestimated sins and the hunger of the authorities and the state is worse than a black hole: too much corruption and selfishness."


    "Selfishness in what way?"


    "Well, positions in the civil service can be extremely comfortable or if you hold political office, don’t you think?" asked Hagen. Someone like him, who had a different view of this world, also seemed to see people as such in a completely different way. Nevertheless, he did not speak arrogantly, but encouraged his counterpart to think. "I’m sure you’ve come across this time and again in your career, when outgoing politicians create new posts for themselves or for their allies just to stay in the fat-cat civil service?"


    "Mhh, at least I’ve wondered about many a post," Samantha admitted. As a policewoman, she had had to do a lot of office work herself, but she had never been involved in the deeper workings of the state bureaucracy and had never presumed to consider the functions of other departments obsolete because she might lack knowledge. "But if the knights know so much and live by the Bible, why don’t they clean up the mess?"


    "Because our fight is a different one," Hagen said obviously. "That, on the other hand, is a problem that society has to solve."


    "So ... if we saw someone being robbed on the street, we’d just watch?"


    "I don’t know what you would do," Hagen, who was difficult to judge, shook his head. "I would intervene."


    "So, are the knights helping after all?"


    "There’s a difference between immediate and protracted crimes. Why would a good person stand by and watch someone being harmed?" Hagen questioned, trying to divine the woman’s motives. "Even if the line is not always clear. I think you’d be only too happy to get out now to catch the drug dealer."


    Samantha had been caught red-handed. "Well, if these blood couriers don’t turn up, why not? An immediate crime."


    "Hardly," Hagen replied, and he wasn’t convinced by the woman’s argument. "The dealer may take advantage of his customers′ weakness, but they have made their own choice and in the end, everyone will receive their judgement sooner or later. Vampires, however ... are eternal creatures who can escape their judgement until they are eliminated. That’s why our fight is a different one, a far more important one, than the fight against the weaknesses of humans."


    "Hard to argue against that," Samantha admitted, sipping her coffee thoughtfully as she internalised Hagen’s words and wondered what unusually controlled monks were all about. This was Samantha and Peter’s initiation, their entrance exam, and Hagen was supposed to observe and support them. However, Brother Caballero had mentioned in his extensive conversation of the past few days that monks were more active in the background and this led Samantha to wonder why Hagen was here now. She and Peter were initiates, the rank before they were officially accepted into the Order of Knights, and alongside the monks, there were the squires and knights who fought on the front line. Samantha, however, was now at the front and had a monk with her, with whom the other members she had met in the last few days had barely exchanged a word. In fact, many had avoided Hagen as much as possible and hadn’t even turned their eyes on him. He didn’t seem to care, but he was actually treated like a leper.


    Regarding vampires, Peter asked an awkward question. "Speaking of the bloodsuckers. Brother Caballero said that vampires have keener senses. They see, smell and hear extremely well. He also said that trained vampires can sense energies - aren’t we sitting here, so close to the clinic, on a platter? Can’t they hear us talking?"


    "No, it’s not that simple," Hagen replied unconcernedly. Although he and the initiators had pistols with them that fired special incendiary ammunition, this mission was not designed for a confrontation. "It’s true that vampires have tremendous perception, but they have to control it and focus it when necessary."


    "Adjust it like a rifle scope?"


    "Depending on the sensory organ, that would apply to the eyes. Hearing is far more sensitive. Vampires hear so well that they have to learn to tune out their distant surroundings, otherwise they would be driven mad by the extreme stimulus of sound. It is therefore unlikely that a vampire will hear us speak. If they noticed us and focussed on us with eye contact, the situation would be different. Depending on their experience, the creatures of the night can hear and see several hundred metres away."


    "Luckily we have these with us," joked Peter, playfully raising his night vision goggles. "You can see a long way without selling your soul."


    "That may be true," Hagen admitted, but the monotone monk illuminated both sides of the issue. "However, the majority of vampires do not choose their existence. Many are turned against their will and then come to terms with their fate."


    If that was true, Samantha questioned the knights′ motives. "And yet vampires are to be destroyed? Even if they didn’t choose this path?"


    "In the end, it doesn’t matter how, and as I said, many come to terms with this path," he murmured with a hint of regret, the first spark of emotion quickly disappearing again. "They feast on the living, discover dark arts for themselves, possibilities upon possibilities that fuel the purest instinct of many vampires besides hunger - ambition. They become powerful and stretch their hands over the heads of humans to make them dance like marionettes in a theatre, or to drain them of their blood." Hagen grabbed one front seat each and spoke out clearly. "Never forget that the puppeteers′ strings are already tightening over a lot of heads and we’re the only ones who can cut those strings."


    That was what had finally convinced Samantha when Caballero had given her a little history lesson. Not that the monstrous part was any less important to her, but basically the society of the night was full of crime and if there was one thing Samantha still wanted, it was to uphold justice and the law. Of course, a certain compulsion remained for her and the similarity to Oskar’s offer was immense, but the Knights fought for the good of society and she would not end up serving one man alone, and whatever his personal goals were. Like the vampires, she came to terms with her fate. "There, look."


    A blue van reversed into the alley between the clinic and a block of flats, stopping so that the bonnet was still visible and the edge of the opening doors could be seen on either side.


    "Let’s listen in and see if those are our customers."


    "On it Sam," nodded Peter. He picked up a bugging pistol with a narrow dish installed on it, equipped with a tiny screen that allowed him to adjust the sights to a precise point. "I’m getting voices."


    Everyone in the van plugged in earphones and, apart from the occasional interruption from passing cars, two female voices were clearly audible.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "You’re late again," grumbled an old voice. "I told you not to turn up just before shift change! All it takes is for someone to say something to the administration and I’ll not only lose my job, I’ll end up in court!"


    "You’ve already been caught once," sighed the second, grumpy voice, unimpressed. "And what did we do then? Right - we roughed up the snitch and everything was fine."


    "That doesn’t work all the time! Fortunately, today is our last meeting."


    "And you’d better keep that to yourself!" hissed the second voice warningly. "Here, the 50,000 dollars and now let’s go in and get the boxes."


    After the voices fell silent, Peter lowered the bugging pistol. "That wasn’t much, though."


    "Don’t worry," said Hagen, pointing at the van. "We primarily want to find out where this transport is going. The cargo is secondary for now."


    A figure approached the van, pushing a shopping trolley full of rubbish in front of him, wrapped in a ragged coat and other layers of tattered clothing. It was hard to make out, but it was a middle-aged woman who began rummaging through the bins in the alleyway. Passers-by paid her no attention and after a while she drove her shopping trolley deeper into the alley, past the van and disappeared behind it.


    "Perfect, I’ve got the signal," Hagen remarked as he pulled out a tracking device. "Now it’s time to wait. We’ll follow two blocks behind."


    "So homeless people aren’t just scouts?" Samantha asked in amazement. "Or was that someone from the Knights?"


    "No, someone from the street who got a dozen tins for putting a magnet on the inside of the back wheel. As for work, believe it or not, a lot of homeless people are extremely reliable because they appreciate the value of wages like hardly anyone."


    Not that Samantha had ever been an extreme believer, but there was a pinch of religion in her humility. "Well, these people have little, want little and are free from the worldly greed for possessions. They lead a simple life, as God would have it, eh?"


    "An apt view, but shhht. Look," Hagen instructed.


    The van shook for a moment and the doors of the driver’s cabin were opened again. "Let’s get out of here," sighed the second voice. "The beers are on me later."


    After this statement, the van drove off and at the ordered distance, separated by several bends, the tail car followed. The pursuit went on for more than three quarters of an hour and at times even crossed the city’s highway, ending for the pursuers only at the exit of the highway, on a hill from which they could look down on the Irish Shamrock neighbourhood, the Las Vegas of Great Kingston.


    The green of the Irish was not necessarily the colour of the place, as one might infer from the name, but glamorous lights and colourful, creative advertising symbols reflected a corresponding charm and the promise of the legendary pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.


    "The van has stopped just under 500 metres away," said Hagen and, like the passenger, he picked up a pair of binoculars to observe in the darkness from the switched-off vehicle. "Can you see anything?"


    "Hard, with all this light," Samantha murmured, irritated by all the flashing lights, but her hunting eye wasn’t going to let her down today. "Wait, I think I’ve got the van."


    "Where?"


    "Near the building with the crown on the outside," Samantha pointed the way and zoomed in closer. "It’s called For the King.


    Yes, there was the van, at the side entrance of a shop where neon lights formed a pot-bellied man who repeatedly lifted and emptied a jug under the name For the King, matching the huge crown on the main fa?ade.


    "Good eye," Hagen praised simply. "Try to get the frequency, Initiant Brown."


    "On it," Peter nodded, his bugging pistol at the ready again. At this distance, it took him a while, but at first the two drivers of the van were just on their own anyway, smoking a cigarette. They were apparently waiting for someone and the glittering nightlife of the pleasure-seekers took its course on the side, with Peter accidentally overhearing the clear moans of someone having sex. "Whoops."


    Hagen remained unmoved, but Samantha smirked coquettishly. "Ah, the simple pleasures."


    "Do I hear envy, Sam?" Peter chuckled amusedly.


    "After all the stress, I was already envious of the patients in the sanatorium when they ate ice cream and there was none left for me," Samantha laughed freely. It really did her good to be back on duty. "That rather reminds me of my disguised assignments as a prostitute."


    "Punishing men and women who just want a bit of fun," Peter grumbled, gradually centring his pistol on the van. "It works in Europe too, depending on where you are and all that tax money."


    "Just more that could be squandered by politicians."


    "But at least the citizens would have more fun."


    "Nothing against fun ..."


    "Neither of you are having sex tonight," Hagen interrupted, without any regard for social skills. "Someone’s coming."


    Around the back corner of the For the King came a group of three people, led by a lean man wearing a smart Dolce & Gabbana suit. "Was there a problem?" he asked the drivers, his voice quite high-pitched.


    "The old lady was very nervous again," complained the grumpy female voice. Now with a clear view of her, her rather masculine figure became clear. "Even if it was our last transport, perhaps we should take her out of circulation."


    "No, too close to the Tenebrae," the man replied, looking at the unobservable cargo area of the van. He snapped his fingers and his two companions each took a medical cooler out of the vehicle, which they brought round the corner of the house. "And even if she unpacks, it won’t do the Tenebrae any good. With this vampire blood, we have the final component for our invasion of Great Kingston, even if the first blades have already been crossed."


    The younger of the riders, who had been silent until now, became curious. "You mean the thing at the warehouse?"


    "No, I’m talking about tonight," the man mentioned happily. He formed his fingers into claws and left a furrow in the concrete fa?ade of the building: Without a doubt, it was a vampire blowing the rubble off his claws. "I got a call earlier. It seems that the Ultima Bellator have launched an attack on the Tenebrae. A costly slaughter for each side and a matriarch has been killed."


    "So things are about to get really exciting," grinned the masculine woman. "And our reward..."


    "You promised!" the younger woman demanded. "We finally want to become vampires."


    "Thank you, I know what I said," the lean man vainly rejected the demand and his eyes fell into a stare. "Eternal night, how I hate it when simple minds think I’m incompetent."


    Strangely enough, the strapping woman seemed to be the more level-headed one, despite her harsh pronunciation. "We didn’t mean any disrespect, of course. We’re just so excited."


    "Oh, I am too, sweeties," the man furtively lifted one corner of his mouth. "How about you two fight over it? One can be a vampire, the other a blood knight."


    The riders looked at each other, but there was no sign of competition and the younger one shook her head. "That’s not what you promised!"


    "She’s doing it again..." the vampire remarked sullenly, radiating a threatening demeanour despite his gaunt figure. "Do you think her tongue tastes good? I should rip it out."


    That was enough to shut the younger woman up, while the roughneck again summoned appeasement. "Forgive her, please. The nights have been exhausting and-"


    "She’s a fierce free spirit," the vampire suddenly said in praise, but followed it up with disappointment. "And you’re a replaceable, submissive cunt."


    "What?!" the grumpy woman clenched her fists. "Ungratef-!"


    Suddenly the vampire was standing behind the woman and he was a good head shorter than her! He bent her back and bent her over his knee before biting her neck viciously and starting to drink.


    This not only frightened the younger woman, because despite the distance, Peter and Samantha were barely able to stay in the car and were about to get out. Hagen’s hand, however, pinned Samantha to her shoulder and, startled as she was by the vampire’s act, she looked back at the giant in the back seat. Not one of his muscles twitched, so little strength did it take him to keep the former policeman in check and Samantha looked directly into Hagen’s eyes: indifference, coldness, soulless, so many words came to her mind at that look and a realisation. He scares me. She stayed in the car, as did Peter, who looked just as anxious. Apparently Hagen had a similar effect on him and they all returned to their night-vision goggles.


    "Mhh, rawwrr!" the vampire hissed. His chin and suit were stained with blood and the burly woman hung motionless over his knee. "She tastes much better than she looks."


    "S-you’ve got her..." the younger woman backed away along the wall.


    "Not at all, she’s still alive, just barely," the vampire grinned slyly with his fangs and snapped the lady’s neck in his hands. "Now she’s dead, because remember this lesson." Immediately rubbish, the vampire pushed his victim off his knee and straightened his suit in dark glee as he stood up. "Don’t suck a human to the last drop lightly. Feeling the last heartbeat ... is the height of ecstasy, but because death reaches for a vampire, we need all our strength to resist it and immediately fall into a defenceless sleep for days or weeks. Got it?"


    Uncertainty characterised the survivor, who stared at her dead companion for a while before her eyes sharpened and all morals were thrown overboard. "Got it, now give me my reward!"


    The vampire’s servants, returning from the building, pulled the dead woman into it and the vampire licked his lips. "Of course, my sweet," he promised her and eagerly invited her into the house. "Let’s celebrate the completion of your mission with a good fuck and your transformation." The tomboy honoured the offer without hesitation and disappeared into the For the King with the gaunt man.


    In the car, the mood among the initiators was more than tense, while Hagen murmured calmly. "Clément Chevalier."


    Peter looked back. "Who?"


    "The vampire we just saw, that’s Clément Chevalier," Hagen explained and with his Black Pitch, he showed a classic painting of the man he had just seen, wearing a French officer’s uniform from the colonial era. "He first appeared during the French Revolution and tried to keep the monarchy in power. After that failed, he joined the Apostles. A gruesome contemporary."


    "No shit," Samantha replied approvingly, clenching her hands tightly on her lap. "We just watched the act. What son of a bitch does that to his own people after a job well done?"


    "Him, even though he’s known for much worse."


    "Then let’s get him out of circulation quickly!"


    "Don’t underestimate Clément," Hagen denied as he tucked away the black pitch and crossed his arms. "If it were that easy, he would have been killed centuries ago. Besides, he’s a strong blood mage and don’t let his stature fool you."


    Samantha didn’t say it, but her ambition was aroused. Nobody had done it before? She would do it! "So this is probably a base for the Apostles, this For the King?"


    "Definitely," Peter agreed, proving that he wasn’t just an accessory who had become involved in this new world through a chance acquaintance with Samantha. "They were talking about vampire blood? I rather thought we were watching this clinic because they’re diverting human blood reserves or something like that. Why are they getting vampire blood? Is this Clément too good to be a donor himself?"


    "His personality could speak in favour of that," Hagen pondered to himself. "But maybe it’s about quantity or power. The blood of powerful vampires is of exorbitant quality and can be an ingredient in magical rituals, for example."


    "And such blood would be stored in a crappy hideout like the clinic?"


    "Lairs are not necessarily impregnable fortresses."


    "Maybe so, but you should never skimp on personnel," Peter grinned self-deprecatingly. "It was no different with the police."


    The humour still didn’t elicit a corresponding reaction from Hagen. "Initiator Rockford, what do you think?"


    "There was something else," Samantha remarked as she thought of a name of the groups and orders she had learnt from Brother Caballero. "Clément said that the first blades were crossed and the Ultima Bellator attacked the Tenebrae. Our allies, right?"


    "Extremely rare," came back Hagen flatly.


    "Extremely rare? Aren’t they servants of God or something like that?"


    "The Ultima Bellator are an extremely radical order of devout warriors," Hagen explained patiently. "I guess Brother Caballero has only scratched the surface, although I think this information is too important to mention now. There have been rare situations where the Knights have allied themselves with the Ultima Bellator, but this order is uncompromising and also rejects the authority of the Church and anything human, nor do they show consideration for anything or anyone when it comes to fighting evil."


    "Oh, surprise," Samantha realised bitterly. "Humans have a common problem and everyone does it their own way."


    "It’s more complicated than that, but unfortunately, yes."


    "I’m too happy to let the brother explain more," Samantha nodded, elated. The night was still young and she wasn’t a bit tired. "Shall we go back and report back?"


    "We will," Hagen said, leaning back into the back seat again. "Good work, Initianten. I guess this will make you full members of the Knights."


    Not a very difficult mission, Samantha felt. Peter probably shared this view, but he raised his empty coffee cup in a slightly celebratory mood. "Well, I think we deserve something to celebrate. McDonalds or Burger King?"


    "You know I think they both suck," Samantha winked.


    "Mhpf, then what?"


    "Dinner," Hagen suggested, synchronising his gaze with that of the initiators. "I fancy some cake."


    Peter assured himself. "At night, at three o’clock?"


    "I like cake."


    "Were you once a police officer?"


    "No."


    "Then one got lost on you," Peter claimed with amusement as he started the car and he was actually only slightly behind Hagen, at least in terms of height. "The big man wants cake at three o’clock at night, so he gets cake."