It served Caitlin’s purpose. The villagers were finally distracted enough to give her the running room she needed to take off. She wasn’t interested in hurting them. She just wanted them to leave her alone. She just needed to catch her breath, to figure out where she was.

She turned and raced back up the hill for the church. She felt a newfound strength and speed, felt herself bounding up the hill, and knew she was outrunning them. She only hoped that the church would be open, and would let her in.

As she ran up the hill, feeling the grass beneath her bare feet, dusk fell, and she saw several torches being lit in the town square, and along the cloister’s walls. As she got closer, she spotted a night watchman, high up on a parapet. He looked down at her, and fear crossed his face. He reached a torch above his head, and screamed: “Vampire! Vampire!”

As he did, the church bells rang out.

Caitlin saw torches appear on all sides of her. People were coming out of the woodwork in every direction, as the watchman kept screaming, and as the bells tolled. It was a witch-hunt, and they all seemed to be heading directly for her.

Caitlin increased her speed, running so hard that her ribs hurt. Gasping for breath, she reached the oak doors of the church just in time. She yanked one of them open, then wheeled and slammed it behind her with a bang.

Inside, she looked frantically around, and spotted a shepherd’s staff. She grabbed it and slid it across the double doors, barring them.

The second she did, she heard a tremendous crash at the door, as dozens of hands pounded on it. The doors shook, but did not give way. The staff was holding—at least for now.

Caitlin quickly surveyed the room. The church, thankfully, was empty. It was huge, its arched ceilings soaring hundreds of feet high. It was a cold, empty place, hundreds of pews on a marble floor; on the far side, above the altar, hung several burning candles.