Darkpages: Witchhammer!
From the Indian Summer imprint of Darkpages::

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The graveyard was silent and cold. Memorial flags fluttered feebly in the light breeze. Two teens leaned against an ancient oak, hands thrust in their blue letter jackets.

The larger of the two smacked the back of his buddy’s head.

“Wake up, Dillon! Have another Red Bull if you’re tired. We need to keep watch.”

After rubbing his scalp, Dillon traced the ridges in the bark with his thumb.

“We should have brought chairs. This sucks.”

“Dude. It’s my grandma. She made me promise that I’d watch over her the first night after her funeral. She didn’t want the Devil taking her soul.”

“Was she Catholic or … Jesus Christ, Spencer, who the fuck is that??”

A gaunt man dressed in black homespun clothes and riding cloak advanced through the rows of tombstones. A large tiger cat followed him on his heels. Sensing the two young men, he turned and spoke in a monotone.

“Leave now. This is no place for the uninitiated.”

Dillon took no time in abandoning his post, scrambling for the cemetery exit. Spencer managed to splutter as he felt his knees buckling.

“Don’t take my grandma, Satan. Please.”

The ground rumbled and shook. Vases tumbled, spilling dead flowers onto the damp grass. The mysterious figure drew two snake-handled revolvers made of polished silver. His cat leaped to the safety of a small crypt.

“I am not the Prince of Darkness. I am Witchhammer, Apostate of the Black School. And I, too, am here to protect the dead from desecration.”

The trembling intensified, knocking Spencer to the ground. Witchhammer braced himself and aimed the pistols at the ground. The cat hissed, exposing needle sharp fangs.

“A Yird Pig? Are you certain, Vinegar Tom?”

A mound of earth erupted, followed by a massive, eyeless boar’s head. Blue veins pulsed under its sickly white skin. The creature’s wet snout steamed in the cold air, seeking the scent of fresh carrion. Rapid muzzle flashes illuminated the graveyard as Witchhammer emptied his pistols into the beast.

“Die, foul swine! Die!”