From "The Jester's Apprentice" by Amy Saunders

"This is as far as I can go," he said between gasps. "I think you'll recognize soon enough where you are. Run straight ahead here and your home is just a couple of miles." He gripped her hand, pushing something into the crook of her palm. "Don't stop until you're inside. I have no idea how long it was until he knew we were gone. Just keep moving."

"What about you? Why can't you come with me?"

He gave her a wry smile. Philippa blushed. "Oh, of course," she said sheepishly. "But where will you go?"

"I'm not as much of a part of this crowd as I seem. I have other places to go."

Philippa surveyed his small frame, wondering what was really going on inside of his head. He kissed her hand.

"Take care, my lady. These are dangerous times." With that he bowed and sprinted in the opposite direction. Philippa hoped this all wasn't another ploy and forced her legs to move again toward Wolf Manor.

From "Secret of the Scarab" by Jay Roudebush

I really had no alternative but to make a run for it. To some extent I had the element of surprise in my favour, and Heather was a good-sized mount. I counted on getting past him and to the open road before he realized what was happening.

The torch was only ten yards or so away.

I flung back the latch, dug my heels into Heather’s side, and screamed, “COME ANUBIS!” We crashed out of the stable into the night.
The rest was a blur. The man’s light shone directly in my eyes, blinding me. There was a loud explosion, followed by a shrill yelp from Anubis. I felt myself flying through the air.

Then: blackness.

From "Harbingers of Mortality" by Steve Thomas

Jeshu the assassin has attacked a Kalharian senator, only to discover that it was a soldier in disguise...

The soldier’s breathing was slow and steady as he closed the gap.  “I must say, assassin, I’m impressed.”  The soldier was advancing, and Jeshu backed toward the window.  “But honestly, how many senators did you expect us to let you kill here?  One dead senator is to be expected.  Two is greedy on your part.  Three is irresponsible on ours.” 

Jeshu laughed, trying to seem confident.  Trying to seem like he wasn’t barely avoiding a fatal stabbing every three seconds.  “I see Kalharia has discovered patterns.”

Jeshu lunged at the man’s shoulder, trying to find a weak point.  Stuffing puffed out of the cut, and he thought he felt iron underneath.  He couldn’t win this fight.  He had one hope.  He inched sideways, trying to look like he was feinting, until he was right in front of the window.

The gladius thrust again.  Jeshu jumped, and heard the shutters burst below him.

A quick backflip, and he was in the street and on the run.

He didn’t get far.  The City Watch had closed off all the streets around the hotel.  He had barely taken three steps before a guard tackled him.

It was supposed to be a simple mission.

From "Immortalis Carpe Noctem" by Katie Salidas

Alyssa has just awoken as a newborn vampire and is greeting her new master...

“This is my home, Alyssa.”

“And… who… what are you?”

My memory flashed to the darkness and the sound of his voice commanding me to drink. I shuddered for a second as a wave of fear struck me.

“Do not worry, Alyssa. I will not hurt you.” He breathed a heavy sigh, taking a seat next to me.

“I’ve done enough to you already.”

My hand moved instinctively to my neck. I touched the crusted scabs of two small puncture wounds. I recalled the small pinch of teeth and the pressure of his mouth against my neck.

“What exactly have you done to me?”

“I must apologize for what has happened this evening. You would have died if I had not turned you.”

“Turned? What have you turned me into?” I asked, my voice finding a small measure of strength.
“Well.” Lysander paused and took a slow, deep breath. “To put it simply—” He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. His eyebrows pulled together and small creases formed in between them.

I waited anxiously for what would come next.
“You are a vampire.”

From "After" by Neil D Ostroff

“Time of death,” said a tall man dressed in surgical attire. He had cotton-colored hair, a snowy white moustache, and a long beard. “1:17 P.M.” 
For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. Then it dawned on me. I’m in a hospital emergency room. Something terrible must have happened. 

“This doesn’t make sense,” replied a woman, who was also dressed in surgical attire. “I can’t find anything wrong with him. There’s no medical explanation. A fifteen-year-old boy shouldn’t have just died like that.”

From "Deadline" by James A. Anderson

The man stepped from the Explorer with a map in hand. He stood next to Antoinette Bower holding the map as she tried to explain directions to Lombard Street.

"It's only a few blocks this way," she pointed to the map. "You're not far wrong."

His other hand emerged from a side pocket. A handkerchief edged upward as the stranger let the map drop to the ground. Bower suddenly felt a vice-like grip.

She started to struggle. A scream began to surface, but was suddenly cut off. The handkerchief smothered her mouth. She sensed the strong smell of a chemical odour. She briefly continued to struggle but an overwhelming drowsiness arose.

Then eveything went black.

The Wolfman had his next victim.

From "Wolf's-head, Rogues of Bindar Book I" by Chris Turner

The first glimmer of light patterned the dormitory floor of the prison. Baus struggled awake to the sounds of groans, grunts and ill-mannered jests. Dighcan eased himself out of his bed, stooping to lace his battered workboots. He stared out sleepily and mumbled to himself about having to face another day, only a paltry six more years left in his sentence. He backslapped Lopze, a dazed and confused badger-like creature. Valere rolled himself over, grimacing, voicing a rude remark at Yullen, who had nestled himself into the crook of his neck, purring like an infant at his mother’s breast. “Away, you foul-breathed hound!”

            On his way to the latrine, Vibellhanz accidentally jostled Paltuik, framing a careless retort that earned him a buffet and a knife-draw. Tustok eased past and innocently belched in Quintlo’s face without apologizing. Upon scenting the reek of last night’s oilfish, Quintlo emitted a vile curse, at which point Tustok mumbled a belaboured objection. Nuzbek stood back by the window, with his rumpled hat in hand and was so engrossed in smoothing back his thinning hair, that when Leamoine sidled up and fondled his behind, he gave a sharp cry and whirled on him like a crane.