It was dark when Fran reached the last hospital, tired and discouraged and disturbed. Nurses got suspicious if strangers wandered around looking at babies like shoes on a sale rack, so Fran had simply stood at the nurses' station and enchanted the nurses into telling her who the babies' fathers were. If they didn't know, she slipped into the mothers' room and repeated the process. She'd learnt some terrible things.

The final hospital was so private as to be downright secretive, and there were nuns dotted about the place, which gave the whole enterprise and appropriately Omenesque atmosphere. And the patients, seeing her move towards the nurses like she had a right to be there didn't grab at her and scream that they had been waiting three hours. The first time someone had done that, Fran had been so shocked that she'd forgotten herself, and in the end the staff had decided a veterinary surgeon would now be more appropriate for the patient's hernia, not to mention the nasty case of shock.

Nothing like that here, though. The patients had the sleek look of those who regarded hospital as an inconvenient break from their golfing. Fran wondered along the corridor- then heard the scream.

She burst into the room. Great, she thought, why don't I just have the words 'hero at large' tattooed on my forehead? The only person bloody stupid enough to run towards a heart-rending scream.

There were two men leaning over a figure on a bed. Or at least, two men-shaped creatures. Fran's mouth was filled with the taste of blood when she looked at the tall one, so that suggested a vampire.

Oh, dear. Although, Fran didn't mind vampires as a rule. She had it on good authority that her blood tasted like battery acid. In fact, enchanters' blood was the liquid equivalent of a well-aimed wooden stake. Vampires were still stronger and faster, but at least this stalemate made for a fairly relaxed relationship. I won't rip your head off if you don't dissolve me into a little pile of ash.

But the broad man confused her. Sometimes he felt blank, like a human, and sometimes he felt dusty, like a demon. Fran knew she was deeply inexperienced, and that she'd never actually met a demon face-to-face, but even so...

It didn't take her long to think all this, just long enough for the two attackers to sense her, turn, and charge. Fran concentrated on the stranger, her hand neatly chopping at his throat. The stranger went down, but this still left the vampire, who grabbed her hair and pulled her head to one side, exposing her neck. This was exactly what Fran wanted, but it still takes a fair bit of courage to let a vampire bite your neck. The pain is quite considerable, but not half so disturbing as the little sucking noises. The vampire's eyes widened in sudden horror, then with a scream he puffed into ash. There was an answering howl down the corridor. Fran's first instinct was to go and deal with the other vampire, but she felt she ought to check on the mother.

The woman had been beautiful once, but a vampire's undivided attention is seldom kind on the complexion. And whatever colour the bed sheets had started out as, they were now crimson. The bastard hadn't even been feeding.

The woman wasn't capable of speech, that much was clear, but Fran could see the look in her eyes.

"It's all right. I won't let them get her."

"Hr..?" The woman's eyes widened, then her head fell back. Fran gulped slightly. She'd never seen anyone die for real before.

"And it doesn't get any easier." There was an old nun in the doorway. "We've cornered another one by the child's cradle. Like the old joke, we've shown it exactly how cross we are."

"Erm..." Fran had more experience with vampires than she did with nuns. The old lady produced a fire axe.

"You'll be needing this, dear. I'll clear up in here, you just get the child to safety."

Fran nodded, then ran to the other room. Three nuns, strong in faith, were pointing crucifixes at the cowering vampire. Fran hefted the axe. She wasn't religious, but she had a lot of faith in what a good sharp blade could do. One swing, and the vampire's head flew off his shoulders in a way oddly reminiscent of orange segments parting. The three nuns shuffled to one side in a way that clearly indicated that they were not about to make an issue out of this. Transferring the axe to one hand, the enchantress tried to pick up the baby with the other hand. The nuns exchanged glances, then bustled around as they scooped up the baby and pulled together a heavy suitcase. The old nun reappeared.

"You're not entirely prepared for this, are you, dear?"

"Not entirely." Fran smiled wryly. "What's in the case?"

"Nappies, milk powder, a toy or two, a blanket, a pillow, a bib, some changes of clothes and other bits and pieces."

"Grief, my computer came with less bits to it. Thank you for all this."

"Did you think we existed to pray and sing prettily on mountainsides? No, there are terrible things in the world, enemies of all that you and I hold good. These things must be found, and these things must be fought."

Fran nodded, settled the babe along her arm, then picked up the axe and set the case to floating behind her. Thanking the nuns again, she stepped out of the hospital.

She could feel them outside, nearly two dozen vampires. This was odd, vampires made enchanters look positively sociable. They hunted in packs purely for convenience, but this precisely orchestrated attack was unusual. Someone was definitely pulling their strings. And since these were vampires, chances were the strings were piano wire securely attached about the throat.

There was a nasty pause. The vampires weren't sure of the script, and Fran was suddenly tired. Had she really just killed three people? It was insane, impossible in retrospect, but if you followed it step by sequential step... good grief. At least she would safe in the hospital, vampires didn't go into a place where two of their number had been killed, for fear the killer was still there. But she couldn't stay in the hospital forever, and she daren't teleport with such a young baby. The vampires tensed, as though at a signal. Fran closed her eyes. She was going to die. Her blood was only toxic if ingested. They could pull her limb for limb.

"Lights!"

The vampires kept tensing, suddenly backlit in car headlights.

"Action!"

From tensing, the vampires started to shake, then collapse all in a neat row. In doing so, they revealed a battered old Fiat. Fynn stuck his head out of the window, grinning.

"Shouldn't it be 'lights, camera, action'? Yes, you missed one."

The enchanter cast his eyes along the line of ash. "Bet? Well, don't just stand there!"

Fran grinned with relief and piled into the car. Fynn's chocolate eyes widened.

"Is that her? The Last Enchantress? She's amazing. Look, she's got little eyelids and everything."

Fran, exhausted, stared down at the baby. Yes, she was amazing. Impossibly tiny, but utterly perfect. Little eyelids, yes, and the other detailing was amazing, down to the texture of the toenails. And now Fran could feel her tiny heart beat, was reminded that this wasn't some porcelain figure, but a life, miraculous and delicate. For an idiot moment, she was worried that even the slightest touch would bruise soft skin and crush tiny bones. So she suppressed the urge to cuddle the babe all up.

"You're not getting broody, are you?" Fynn spoke with all the anxiety of the long-term boyfriend. Fran laughed, and kissed him. God, he was handsome. She knew every line of his face, every expression that face could assume, but it could still reduce her to a happy mush. And she carefully never asked herself the obvious question.

What's a guy like him doing with a girl like me?

"Fran, you're far away again."

"No, I'm right here." Fran rubbed his shoulder and he smiled. "What next?"

On cue, a fanged face threw itself at the windshield. Fran managed only to squeal. Why vampires again? Fynn coughed slightly.

"Whose turn was it to set the car wards this month?"

"It- ah."

"You forgot again, right?"

The vampire grasped the metal bodywork of the car- then screamed as though the entire car was a holy item.

"Wrong," said Fran happily.

© Naomi 'Ni' Claydon 1998/9. No copying without permission.