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The Golden Gate Retirement Home loomed against the winter sky, its windows glowing with sickly fluorescent light. Inside, Agnes Summers sat in her room, her weathered hands methodically cleaning an antique silver-plated Colt revolver. At 78, her body might have been frail, but her mind was as sharp as the wooden stakes hidden beneath her floorboards. For weeks, Agnes had watched the new night staff with growing suspicion. Amira, with her hypnotic green eyes and accent she claimed was Lebanese. Oksana, pale as moonlight, her Slavic features as cold as a Siberian winter. And Olga, whose Nordic beauty belied a predatory grace that set Agnes' teeth on edge. But it was the new "child volunteer" that truly chilled Agnes to her core. Alexander Roth, no more than twelve in appearance, with angelic curls and a cherubic smile that never reached his ancient eyes. Agnes had seen those eyes before, in a castle in Transylvania nearly five decades ago. Eyes that had witnessed centuries of bloodshed. As the first howling winds of a blizzard battered the windows, Agnes knew the game was afoot. The power cut out at midnight, plunging the home into darkness. Agnes moved swiftly, her arthritic joints screaming in protest as she donned her battle gear – a crucifix-embroidered kevlar vest beneath her housecoat, holy water grenades clipped to a belt that had seen action on five continents. The hallways echoed with confused cries and shuffling feet. But beneath that, Agnes' trained ears picked up something else – the whisper of predators on the hunt. She found Amira in the east wing, her fangs buried deep in the throat of Mr. Kowalski from 203. The vampire's eyes glowed with unholy hunger as she lifted her blood-smeared face. "Ah, the hunter," Amira purred, her voice like poisoned honey. "Alexander said you might be trouble." Agnes didn't waste breath on witty comebacks. She fired the modified bullet – a hollow point filled with blessed ash – catching Amira square in the chest. The vampire's shriek of agony was cut short as she disintegrated, leaving nothing but a pile of smoldering embers on the linoleum. But Agnes had no time to savor the victory. A bone-chilling howl echoed from the west wing – Oksana had cornered a group of residents in the day room. Agnes arrived to find a scene of carnage. Bodies lay strewn about, their life essence feeding the frenzy of the Slavic vampire. Oksana turned, blood dripping from her chin, her eyes wild with bloodlust. "Your heart beats so strong, старуха," Oksana growled. "I will enjoy draining every drop." The fight was brutal and swift. Agnes might have been old, but decades of hunting had honed her reflexes. She dodged Oksana's supernatural speed, using the vampire's momentum to send her crashing into a table laden with holy water-laced tea. The resulting steam and unholy shrieks gave Agnes the opening she needed. A stake, thrust with unerring accuracy, and Oksana joined Amira in oblivion. Olga proved the wiliest of the three. She ambushed Agnes in the kitchen, using her Nordic strength to pin the old hunter against the industrial freezer. Agnes felt her bones creak under the pressure, the icy breath of the vampire ghosting across her neck. "Your blood will restore my beauty for a century," Olga hissed, her fangs elongating. But Agnes had one last trick up her sleeve. With a grimace of pain, she slammed her head back, the silver fillings in her teeth connecting with Olga's face. The vampire reeled back, her perfect features sizzling, giving Agnes just enough time to retrieve the blade hidden in her sock. One swift arc and Olga's head separated from her body, both turning to ash before they hit the floor. Panting, bleeding from a dozen wounds, Agnes leaned against the freezer. She'd done it. Three ancient vampires, dispatched by an arthritic old woman armed with nothing but experience and determination. But as the adrenaline faded, a cold dread settled in Agnes' stomach. Where was Alexander? A slow clap echoed through the kitchen. Agnes turned, her heart sinking, to see the angelic form of Alexander Roth standing in the doorway. His cherubic face was split into a grin that showed far too many teeth. "Bravo, Miss Summers," he said, his voice carrying the weight of centuries. "I knew you still had some fight in you. It's why I chose this place, you know. I wanted to test my new progeny against the best." Agnes raised her gun, but faster than she could blink, Alexander was there, his small hand crushing her wrist. The gun clattered to the floor. "Now, now," he chided, as if speaking to a misbehaving child. "Is that any way to treat an old friend? Don't you want to know why I'm here?" Agnes met his gaze, seeing not the face of a child, but the monster she'd fought all those years ago. "Enlighten me," she spat. Alexander's grin widened, showing fangs that would put a shark to shame. "Why, my dear Agnes, I'm building an army. And Eerie Falls, with its high population of elderly – easy prey for the newly turned – is the perfect recruiting ground." He leaned in close, his boyish features twisted into something inhuman. "And you, old friend, will have a front-row seat to watch as I turn this quaint little town into the capital of a new vampire nation." As darkness closed in around her, Agnes Summers realized with horror that her long career as a hunter might be coming to an end. But even as consciousness faded, her mind raced, planning, strategizing.&nbsp; For Agnes knew the truth – the night might be dark, but the hunt was far from over.

FRAGMENTS OF FEAR

JOE_KING

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