HUNTERS In the daytime, Little Europe can be a great place to live. A melange of nations and cultures, a melting pot of color and vitality that makes every day a new adventure. At night, though, it was a different story. "Don' go out tonight," Mama Rinaldi urged, while simultaneously urging another serving of pasta upon me. When I first moved into the neighborhood, she decided to adopt me. Said something about how I reminded her of her son, who was serving in the navy doing something or other. To be honest, her maternal instincts were a bit on the oppressive side. On the other hand, the food _was_ good. Fabulous in fact. So, I let her indulge herself in the little things. "Don't worry, Mama. I'm a big boy. I'm not afraid of muggers and thugs." "It's not that. The strigoi, they are out tonight. I figli del diablo." "Monsters?" I chuckled, grabbing my coat, "There isn't a monster alive that can scare _me_." She shook her head, clutching her hands, "Prego che si vero." I kissed her on the forehead. "It's true…trust me." I shrugged into my topcoat, and strode down the stairs. At the front door, I paused. The fog swirled around the stoop, cloaking the street from sight. I could easily imagine, in an earlier age, people seeing demons dance in the shadows. But this was the 21st century, more or less. There was no room for devils and goblins. Emboldened, I stepped out into the mist. It's a curious thing, but sounds are magnified by fog. Every footfall echoes like the door to a tomb. As I made my way down Rowan Street, I kept my ears open, filtering the echoes for shards of meaning. Dim glows in the distance marked the club district. My plans for the evening didn't involve drinks and dancing, so I let them hover, and turned towards the park I'd spent many an afternoon soaking up sun on it's grassy slopes, and had often claimed familiarity with it's environs. Tonight, I decided to put that to the test. The iron gates rose before me like sentries, marking the border between city and the wilderness. Even open, their jagged points clawed at the darkness, shredding it into puffs of mist. Every step past them seemed like another step into the past. I could almost hear the hansom cabs clatter on cobblestone streets. "Too many A&E Mysteries" I decided, grinning inwardly at my own flight of fancy. Holmes and Watson weren't afoot, and Dracula was restricted to movie screens and bad teen dramas. I walked onward, weaving my way though it's wending paths, marked only by antique lampposts, vainly accenting the dank miasma. At the playground, I paused. Something about empty carousels and swings always depress me. Rather than sites for fun, they resembled nothing more than the rotted skeletons of long-ago creatures. I sat down on one of the rope swings, pondering mortality and my past. Footsteps. I wasn't alone. No lamp was near. (Hey, if you had kids running around screaming like lunatics, would _you_ put a big metal pole in the middle of it?). Slowly, I stood. "Fresh," a voice hissed. "Full of life," another chimed in. "Not young, but maybe it would like to play?" a third voice suggested. "Let's ask it" "Yes." "Yes." While I watched, the mists swirled, forming a trio of squat grey shapes, the size of children. No child I'd ever seen had claws that long, however, nor mouths that wide, filled with needle-sharp teeth. Their hairless, rubbery bodies rippled as they capered about, in a twisted parody of youthful fun, "Join us!" one called. ""We'll have _so_ much fun" "You'll _never_ want to leave." Naturally, I backed away. And perhaps just as naturally, they danced closer, sickly black tongues nimbly navigating their sharklike grins. "Don't you like us?" came the call…from behind me. I spun, almost tripping. SIX more of the little beasts blocked the path. While I watched, they spread out, joining their comrades in trapping me in a ring of giggling evil. All exits blocked, I could do no more than watch as they danced and cartwheeled, always to the left. The mists parted in the circle, probably so they could see their meal. There was only one thing I could do. "Ateh Malkut" I whispered. Their flopping ears twitched. "Ve Gebura" I continued, voice growing stronger. They stopped, eyes glittering. "Ve Gedula," I called, a feral grin growing on my lips. "Le Olahm." I finished, bowing grandly. When I stood, the blade was in my hand. I laughed. They tried to run, but their breed was not build for speed. I toyed with them for a short while, but the weather was unpleasant enough that for once, I let them die relatively quickly. Once it was over, I did what had to be done, before returning the blade to it's proper realm. Satisfied, I walked back to the brownstone, thinking again that in this realm of chrome and neon, there were no such things as ghoulies and ghosties and long-legged beasties. I made sure of that. .