the man who could not be killed part 2 - lover's promises

Roxanne my reliable chevy blazer moaned. I petted her gently on the dash and made all the promises neglectful lover’s make.
RONIN – I promise baby, this is the last time. I’ll fix you up.
My truck new I was lying. But she loved me.
I have to get the girl to Ernesto. One of the safe houses. The snow and icy rain pelted Roxanne like a million little fists. The cars and trucks were spinning out of control. The power was going to fail soon. I shoot down route 112 towards Port Jefferson. It’s on old town, by long island standards and older than most people know. It had a hand in the Setauket spy ring during the American revolution. Ernesto is former black ops, more specifically psyche ops. He’ll mess you mind nine ways to Sunday and you’ll still say a prayer for him.
The lights finally went out as the mist rolled in off the SOund. All horrors seem to come from Conneticut. The Shade was feeding on children. This was not unheard of. But this one was feeding on youth. A vampiric pedophile that kepts his innocent playthings immortal. So they’d never grow up. Never age, never be too old for him.
Then I felt the thumps on the roof. It sent a few of it’s puppets at me. I plowed into the woods with the girl babbling in Spanish. The puppets are servitors, feral Nosferatum dead pale alabaster skinned with verticle mouths up the center of their peeled skeletal faces. Their eyes, black as a sharks, no discernable nose. Their limbs appear as a skinless corpse of muscle, flesh and exposed bone. They were robed in black and strong as Johnny Walker blue but without the smoothness.
My truck skidded as it hit the wood. The two flew off. Bounced off the trees none the worse for wear. I was lightly armed, one Barong, and my Cavalry sabre. I thought of the duel I fought in Port Jerrson son long ago, and I thought of Emma.
One was going for the girl, One for me.
The one going for the girl smashed my side window and was truying to pull her out. I was more worried about the the smarter one. It would skin me and wear my flesh. After of course feeding on me for it’s master.
It fought with a katar and scimitar. It swung the scimitar hitting Roxanne on the hood with a loudish clang. I dodged. Lunged then took to the air with a cavalry cut. It swept under with the katar and we spun giving me enough of an opening to clip it on the back of the head. The hit would have killed a human. I just managed to irritate it. It backhanded my sending me into the trees about twenty feet. It looked at me and charged. It came at my in prima. I went to quarta. It swung. I parried and splayed down. It was commiting too much to the thrust, not out of carlessness but opportunism, it was biting at my chest. I pommeled it onn both sides of it’s head, and then brought my blades across. Taking off it’s head.
The sun would get rid of the evidence. The girl was gone but now I had a trail.