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voice from the crowd.
    Erasmus removed a silver flask from his cloak. “We consecrate the land surrounding the house. He won’t be able to pass through holy ground.”
    A discontented murmur spread among the assemblage.
    “That sounds a bit like popery, Master Martin,” accused John Fryer.
    “It is popery, Master Fryer,” Martin replied. This brought angry shouts from the Puritans. Vampyrs were one thing, but Catholics . . .
    “I’m not sure we can condone this idolatry,” Fryer jeered. “Why, if Pastor Collins was here—”
    “Pastor Collins is dead,” the witchfinder said. This quieted the crowd considerably. “I do not ask you to be privy to what I do. Go on your way and I will take care of it.”
    “And when you’re done?” posed Goody Cross.
    “I shall go,” he said.
    The Puritans nodded their agreement and turned to leave. There was just one last thing.
    “I do require someone to assist me,” he called out. “Young Mistress Stevens, perhaps.”
    Anne, who had managed to invisibly assimilate into the townspeople’s ranks, now found the crowd’s attention thrust upon her.
    “If she helped you,” remarked John Fryer, “if she were a part of this papist ritual of yours, she would not be able to return to the village.”
    Which means she won’t be able to free the creature later,
thought Martin. “I’m afraid I cannot conduct the ritual alone. And without it, the vampyr will be free to escape . . . and feed.”
    That little extra emphasis in his lie is what did it. Anne once more found herself about to be volunteered by a group of panicking cowards. And just as before, she decided to take matters into her own hands first.
    “Master Martin,” she declared, walking up to the witchfinder. “For the good of the village, I shall assist you.”
    Again, the Puritans burst into applause-like prayer. The women of the town were a bit too happy to see the back of Anne, probably because their husbands had always been a bit too eager to see the back of Anne. Then, after one last stirring rendition of the Lord’s Prayer, they turned and started back to their homes, declaring the evening’s festivities a resounding success. Anne and Erasmus were now alone.
    “Well,” Anne said, impressed that he had gotten the better of her. “What now?”
    He handed her a small snuffbox. “You hold the incense,” he told her, using a flint to set it smoldering. “Make sure it doesn’t go out.”
    The ritual took most of the night. Every hour or so, Anne would pretend that she hadn’t noticed the fire go out and Erasmus would pretend that the incense was actually necessary and would relight it. By the time they made their way all around the house, the Mosses had returned with the stone slabs. Erasmus oversaw the installation, which required one or two to be recarved, due to Anne “accidentally” scratching off the engraved crosses. By dawn, however, all was set, and the new day saw a town free from evil.
    “So, where are we going?” Anne asked as the witchfinder hitched his belongings to his horse.
    “You are free to go where you will,” he replied, pulling on the leather strap keeping his books in place. “I hear the Quakers are about to have their own colony. No doubt they would take you in.”
    “And what about you?” she inquired.
    “I move on. There are reports a devil has taken up residence in the woods of New Jersey.”
    She smiled. “Sounds delightful. I think I’ll join you.” And with that, she took the reins of his horse and led it away, taking her place at the side of the only person who respected her enough to fear her.
    Before following his horse and new companion, Erasmus Martin gave one last glance toward the house beneath which his most indefatigable foe now slumbered, then uttered what was to become a most fitting eulogy.
    “Until next time.”

Chapter 5
    Vampires don’t sleep. When arriving back at their crypts and coffins before the break of day, they return to their