Screams echoed through the corridors, at first muffled and distant, then louder, closer and closer. They mingled with hurried footsteps and dull impacts against stone. The door shuddered once, then again. With a crash of splintered wood and torn hinges, it slammed against the wall. A wolf burst into the room.

  “You’re in bad shape, my friend,” the wolf growled.

  “Hurry and untie me. There may still be monks left.”

  “I killed them all. Only women remain, hiding. I smell a massive amount of demon blood.”

  The wolf brought its claws down on the chains. The metal groaned, then gave way. The restraints fell to the floor. It slipped its muzzle under Vaunn’s arm and helped him climb onto its back. Vaunn clung to its fur, burying his trembling fingers in it. With a swift motion, the wolf straightened, pivoted, and left the room.

  The wolf moved down the corridor. The floor was covered in blood, several centimeters thick, rippling with each step it took.

  It lifted its head, sniffed the air, then continued on. Reaching the third floor, it turned aside, guided by the acrid scent of demon blood.

  They stopped in front of a wardrobe. The wolf growled, then slashed with its claws. The wood exploded into splinters.

  Behind the wardrobe, a narrow passage was revealed. The wolf slipped into it at once and entered a long corridor cluttered with antiquities. Stone statues with eroded faces stood against the walls, some mutilated, others covered in carved symbols. Twisted candelabra, still smeared with black wax, littered the floor among cracked chalices and rusted chains. Frayed tapestries hung from the ceiling, steeped in the smell of dried blood and rancid incense.

  Stolen story; please report.

  The wolf stopped in front of an iron-banded chest covered in engravings. It tilted its head, took one last sniff of the air, then growled,

  “It’s inside.”

  Vaunn slid off the wolf’s back and knelt in front of the chest. His hands trembled as he lifted the heavy lid.

  Inside, dozens of vials were arranged in wooden compartments. The red liquid they contained gleamed.

  The wolf growled behind him.

  “Give me one.”

  Vaunn handed a vial to the wolf. Garr caught it between his fangs and drained it in one gulp.

  “That feels good… It’s very good,” he growled. “I want more.”

  Vaunn gave him two more. Garr drank them at once without pausing for breath, then lifted his head.

  “More.”

  “Don’t drink them all, Garr,” Vaunn exclaimed.

  Vaunn grabbed several vials and slipped them into his bag.

  “Leave me some, you selfish bastard, and pour one into my mouth,” the wolf growled.

  Vaunn picked up a vial and poured its contents into Garr’s gaping jaws. The wolf immediately leapt forward and smashed through a wall in a crash of stone.

  “Again.”

  “No. That’s enough, Garr.”

  Garr shoved his muzzle into Vaunn’s bag.

  “Hey!”

  Vaunn slapped him on the snout. The wolf growled at once and answered with a swipe of his paw. Vaunn was hurled against the wall, the air driven from his lungs.

  “You brute,” he spat, struggling to his feet.

  Garr tipped the bag over, crushing the vials between his fangs and swallowing the red liquid. Glass crunched, demon blood running down his jaws.

  “You’re completely insane!” Vaunn barked. “This wasn’t a buffet!”

  The wolf lifted its head, lips pulled back in what almost looked like a smile.

  “Too late.”