You broadcast everything you're seeing and smelling...
Hunt.
Immediately the shelves either side of the vampire explode. To the left, a massive bipedal wolf smashes through in a shower of pasta. To the right, a second wolf, this one closer to four legs than two, crashes through a soup display. Teeth, claws, and brutal coordinated efficiency.
The larger of the two — black fur, hooked claws, the remains of a tank top still clinging to a rapidly changing torso. Vicky — seizes the vampire's arm in her teeth and yanks her back.
The vampire, twists, thrashes... and then jerks to the side, ripping off her own arm in a precise, practised motion. It doesn't matter. The two second delay was enough for another two wolves to appear at the other end of the isle, blocking off her escape.
She spins around... back towards you.
But you're not alone either. You feel your pack moving behind you, their growls filling the air. A single werewolf is one thing. A pack? That's another thing altogether.
The vampire never stood a chance.
Her smile doesn't waver... but her eyes burn with hatred. "Oh dear."
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