Stab with the stake hand.
Spin away and reassess.
She's still not entirely sure of their numbers, but she senses at least five of them. Or at least there were five to start with, she thinks as the dust from one of them slowly settles to the cavern floor.
They don't wait for her to think carefully and logically about the situation, but attack her. One's arm swings wildly at her head. She falls to the ground in a controlled spin, and her legs sweep round and take his feet out from under him. A brief flash of light from the torches show her the surprise on his heavily gnarled and misshapen face as he falls.
Before she can finish him off, a vicious kick from one of the other's cloven feet hits her ribs and sends her tumbling to the side. Her face hits a small rock on the way along the rough floor, and she can feel the taste of her own blood in her mouth.
She smiles, and pushes herself back up. The copper taste and her bruised lip bring it home to her. She's god knows where in a fight to the death, with some of the oldest vamps she’s ever seen.
Her smile broadens to an almost feral one. God, she loves this.
Previous parts to be found in my memories.