There was a crack, like thunder, and the torch went clattering away on the cobbles. The priest let out a pained yelp, and leapt back, clutching at his hand.
“Just… Have to stop you there,” came an annoyed voice. The crowd parted around, or was elbowed out of the way by a scruffy man in an oversized coat, placing a whip back at his side.
“Who do you think you are to strike a man of the cloth!?”
“Isn’t murder one of the big sins? Think I’ve done you a favor.”
“This is not murder,” spat the priest. “It is an execution.”
The man blinked for a few seconds.
“Of an innocent woman,” he said, flatly.
The innocent woman in question was glancing between the two of them. She opened her mouth as if to speak, and then… shut it again.
“Innocent-” The priest spat. “She is a witch!”
“Like hell she is,” said the man. “I- Look, have you ever heard of the Belmonts?”
“Right, yeah, should’ve seen that coming. The point is, I hunt monsters for a living; this coat is… Nevermind. The point is. She isn’t a witch. She’s just… what, a lady trying to help people. Fuck, she’s the only reason I’m still standing.”
“Hah! A fool then. Or perhaps just bewitched. The devil may quote scripture to his own ends, and the evil may do good to conceal their wickedness.”
“Jesus Christ. Listen. What evidence do you even have?”
“Enough!” said the priest-
“Enough evidence, or enough talking,” said the man.
“Both!” The priest snapped his fingers, and two of the large men who’d been keeping the crowd at a distance pulled back.
The man looked at the priest, then at the two approaching him, with the expression of annoyance normally reserved for those who have just been told they’ll have to work through the night. He put his hand down at his side, where he’d replaced the whip, and… sighed, pulling his hand away.
The men launched themselves at him.
They were big, but for a man who spoke with such a tired exasperation, he moved remarkably quickly.
A few good punches, and they went down.
“I’m fucking telling you,” he said, “you are making a god, damned, mistake.”
“A sack of coins and a free indulgence to the one who brings him down!”
And the crowd, urged on mostly by the people in the back who weren’t in immediate punching range, lurched forwards.
It was like fighting the undead. The stupid, slow, uncoordinated undead.
The difference, of course, was the fact that because of some stupid thing about the… Sanctity of human life…
The point was the normally, he’d be shattering skulls here, and without the ability to put them down properly, he just had to accept the fact that they’d keep coming, until-
The first solid punch landed, a proper bruise at his shoulder.
He managed to spot the priest grabbing the torch again, just in time to kick him away, but the problem was that in the time he’d managed to do that-
He was on the ground, being kicked from all sides. There wasn’t any pain, but that was because there was too much to pick out where it was coming from.
He tried to crawl, to find some opening, but-
The weak light of the sun was suddenly blotted out, and the kicking stopped suddenly.
He heard screaming, and managed to roll over.
He could see the fire burning behind him; he tried to reach out towards it, as if he had any way of stopping it.
A dark shadow passed above his head, and the fire stopped in an instant, the heat gone too.
He couldn’t make out words, but he could hear two voices.
His eyes tried to focus, and he saw-
The figure turned, and he saw pale skin, dark hair, and… fangs.
He flailed his hand weakly towards his side, where the whip still sat.
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