The siege had lasted many weeks; but the vampires cared nothing for that.  The sack lasted many hours; and that was another matter entirely, for the pickings were delicious.  They swooped over the walls long after nightfall; and glutted themselves on a full household, leaving the building open to looters who would have killed the inhabitants anyway.

The vampires moved on.  It was a red time.  The sky reflected the flames, blood ran in the gutter, and their eyes glowed.

Before dawn they had chosen their home for the day—stone built and cool, with heavy wooden shutters and a door that could be braced.  Inside were only the dead.

They retired to the cellars, whose stores had been plundered, knowing themselves perfectly safe.  Should another roving band loot deep in search of liquor, it would merely be supper coming to call (and quite convenient, really).

Some hours later, the vampires woke, sensing that the sun had not quite set, hearing that the sack was far from over.  Through the stone floors, a single rapid beat told of some poor soul taken dubious refuge in the house above—a snack-to-be, perhaps, before they went to hunt.  There was no hurry.  They settled, in pleasurable anticipation, and remembered wars of yore.

Above were booted footsteps and heavy laughter, and jests that could be heard clearly by vampire ears, despite the distance.  And the single heart beat faster, in terror, and then was joined by a thin, helpless scream.

The male vampires ignored her fate:  there was still the risk of sun upstairs.  It was Janette who looked up, snarled with full, long fangs, yanked the bar from the door, and flew.  Literally.

The men looked at each other, resigned, and rose to follow.  More slowly, for both knew their aid was certainly not required.  They passed the dead in the main hall, where hangings had been pulled down and defiled, and treasure robbed; and they followed the sounds to the upper parlour, through room to room.  In the end, they found Janette and her prey in an inner chamber.  Beneath the bed trembled a slight form, half-hidden by fallen covers.

When Janette was done and the men had drained the dregs, the obvious question arose:  should they finish the meal?  Janette snarled her denial, reached down to pluck the maid from her refuge, and tucked her protegée behind her.  There was no arguing with her in this frame of mind; and neither man tried.

Night fell.  The vampires left to feed; but the commander was tightening his hold over the troops, and they knew it was time to leave.

The maid forgot easily.

Janette did not.