I stood at the ridge above the blood-soaked plains, watching darkness descend like a shroud over the Wild West of 1861. The battlefield below lay stripped of life, save for the relentless mist that crept over the dead. My eyes traced the bodies strewn across the terrain like broken dolls, while the metallic stench of death filled my lungs. Coyotes circled the corpses, their eyes gleaming with hunger as they darted through the fog, teeth flashing as they tore into flesh.

The last gunshot had died with the sun. I moved with deliberate slowness down the ridge, my red hair spilling from beneath my black Stetson. The wind tugged at my leather coat like grasping hands, but I didn't hesitate. I'd seen my share of death, but tonight was different. I wasn't here to mourn the fallen or count the war's losses. I hunted something more elusive—and far deadlier—than any man could comprehend.

I examined each body with practiced precision, my gloved hands turning heads and peeling back blood-stained uniforms. Not looking for bullet wounds or sabre cuts, but marks of an ancient horror—a predator that feasted under the veil of conflict. My fingertips traced over necks and throats until I found what I sought.

A soldier lay twisted unnaturally, his limbs splayed at impossible angles. Beneath the dried blood on his neck, I spotted them—two small puncture marks. I drew my silver revolver, loaded with wooden bullets meant for creatures that defied the natural order. From my belt, I pulled a flask embossed with holy symbols and poured drops of consecrated water onto the wound. It sizzled, sending up wisps of smoke.

"Rest now," I whispered, taking aim at his chest. The wooden bullet found its mark. The body convulsed once, then stilled. I kept my revolver trained until I was certain the taint had been purged.

A new scent drifted on the wind—damp earth, decay, and something ancient and foul. I holstered my weapon and pressed forward, following the trail of my quarry. The prairie stretched endlessly around me, but the darkness felt alive, pressing in as if to shield its own.

My fingers found the silver cross at my throat, worn smooth by years of similar hunts. It had seen me through countless battles against the undead, both talisman and reminder of my duty. I'd made peace with solitude long ago—the cross and the ghosts of the fallen were company enough.

A noise broke the silence, soft but unmistakable. I tensed, my eyes narrowing as I scanned the darkness. Movement caught my eye—a blur of shadow behind a fallen tree. I spun, drawing my revolver as the vampire dropped from an overhanging tree branch, its talons raking for my eyes. I ducked and rolled, feeling the wind of its strike ruffle my hair. My revolver cleared its holster as I came up in a crouch, but the creature was already gone—just a blur of motion in the darkness.

"Your kind always stinks of fear." Its voice came from behind me. I spun, firing twice. The vampire weaved between the bullets with impossible speed, its laughter echoing from multiple directions.

I backed against a tree, scanning the shadows. Years of hunting had taught me their tricks. "The only thing that's going to reek is your corpse when I'm done."

It struck like a viper—not from the shadows I watched, but bursting through the tree trunk behind me in a shower of splinters. Rotting hands locked around my throat as teeth snapped inches from my face. I smashed my head back, feeling its nose crunch, but its grip only tightened.

The vampire lifted me off my feet, darkness creeping at the edges of my vision. I dropped my revolver, reaching instead for the silver-edged knife in my boot. The blade plunged deep into its forearm, pinning it to the tree. The creature's shriek of pain was deafening.

I broke free, gasping for air, but the vampire ripped its arm loose and backhanded me with devastating force. I flew twenty feet before crashing through a wooden cart. Splinters tore into my back as I rolled to my feet, spitting blood.

"I'm going to peel your skin off strip by strip." The vampire stalked forward, black blood oozing from its wounds. Its arm had already begun to heal, flesh knitting back together. "Then I'll keep you alive for weeks, feeding on your terror."

"Maybe." I scrambled for my revolver, it lay in the mud halfway between us. The vampire's eyes flicked to it, then back to me. Its lipless mouth stretched into a grin, displaying row upon row of needle-sharp teeth.

"Looking for this?" It kicked my weapon further away. "What's a hunter without her—"

I hurled my flask of holy water directly into its face. The vampire reeled back screaming, clawing at its dissolving features. I tackled it hard, driving my silver cross deep into its eye socket. The creature bucked with inhuman strength, throwing me off, but I rolled with the momentum and snatched up my revolver.

The vampire charged blindly, half its face a smoking ruin. I fired, the wooden bullet tearing through its shoulder. It staggered but kept coming, its mouth stretched impossibly wide. I rolled aside as it crashed past me, its claws raking fire across my ribs.

"You think that will stop me?" It spun with unnatural speed, bones cracking as it contorted. "You can't kill what's already dead."

"Maybe not." I pushed to my feet, ignoring the burning pain in my side. Blood soaked my shirt, but my aim stayed steady. "But I can sure as hell try."

My second shot punched through its chest. "Burn in hell," I snarled, ramming my last bullet down the barrel. The vampire froze mid-lunge, its cruel smile faltering. I squeezed the trigger. Its head exploded in a spray of ash and bone, the body crumbling to dust before it hit the ground.

I collapsed to one knee, every breath sending waves of pain through my battered ribs. Blood trickled from a dozen wounds, but I was alive. I reloaded my revolver with trembling hands, scanning the darkness for any other threats. The night remained still save for the distant howl of coyotes.

Slowly, I gathered my scattered weapons—the knife still coated in black blood, my dented flask, the cross that had saved my life countless times before. One more battle won, but the war never ended. The frontier's darkness bred monsters worse than any vampire, and I'd hunt them all.

I limped into the shadows, leaving only footprints in blood to mark my passing. The night swallowed me whole, as it always did. There would be other battles, other horrors to face. But for now, I had a world to cleanse, one monster at a time.