The Satanic Brides of Dracula

by Lucas Thorn

“I don’t care about the rest,” she said. “I just wanted to know what name to scream as I tear the beating heart from your chest and drink it dry. Oh, Richard, I’ll scream. Oh, Richard. Men like to hear me cry their name. Vasilja says it’s because you’re all very dull. You’d like me to scream, though, wouldn’t you? Richard?”

  “I’m not afraid. Not afraid of you!”

  “That’s good. I don’t want you to be afraid. You see, I want you to fight me,” she said. “Do you understand? And not just a small fight. You have to give me everything you have. You can’t hold back. You must try. Try really hard. Hit me, Richard. Hit me now. Can you do that?”

  “Just try it, bitch. I’ll show you!”

  She pounced. Shrieking; “Hit me!”

  Vasilja slurped the last drop of blood from the young man bent over her knee and smiled.

  A wistful smile.

  “I do wonder who was playing the flute,” she said to the dead man. “I would have liked to listen to it now. Wouldn’t you?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Hailwic made the top of the stairs.

  Held the revolver ahead and kept it pointed at a figure made dark against the moonlight.

  “You were waiting for us,” she said. “You knew we were coming this way.”

  “You are predictable, Hailwic. The others more so.”

  The blonde vampire opened her mouth to speak, then moved in a blur as the figure whipped toward her with confounding speed. Flash of steel.

  And she felt it.

  Felt the tip burst through her chest. Tear through ribs. Heart.

  Spine.

  A spear.

  Shining with angelic light. Its heat like the sun.

  “Vasilja,” she whispered. “Senka.”

  “They’ll be next.”

  Hailwic aimed the revolver. Pulled the trigger.

  Bullets found flesh each time and he let out a roar as he tore the spear free. Jabbed it into her side one more time.

  Twisted.

  And she screamed as heat flowered inside veins.

  Burning.

  Consuming.

  She heard Vasilja first.

  Heard Senka’s sorrowful echo.

  “Not with this,” she hissed.

  With dying hands, the vampire grabbed the shaft of the spear. Took a last breath. Glared into his face and wrenched.

  Snapped the shaft with a blast of light and boiling heat.

  He screamed her name.

  Screamed it with hatred.

  And reached in to tear at her flesh, but was too late.

  She was already ash.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “Hailwic!” Vasilja wailed as she knelt among the ash.

  Senka’s eyes burned and she sobbed frantically despite the lack of tears. Scrubbed at her cheeks and beat the ground in frustration. “Who? Who did this? Vasilja? Who?”

  Vasilja’s hand was tight around the shattered spear.

  She flung it at the wall, where it buried itself by more than a few inches.

  “I want their skin,” she hissed. “I want their skin peeled. I want it peeled, Senka. Nothing quick. I want them to die for a very long time indeed. Dimiti?”

  “Lady,” the old man knelt by the doorway. Head bowed.

  “I want you to search the grounds. We need horses now. And we’ll take the ferry. We need speed. I won’t tolerate one more day in these cursed mountains.”

  “Yes, Lady.”

  “Where’s Franz?”

  “Gone, Lady. I couldn’t find him.”

  “Forget that blithering idiot, then. Horses, Dimiti.”

  Vasilja’s eyes scanned the room. Searching for something she couldn’t find.

  “I don’t understand,” Senka said. “Vasilja, what’s going on?”

  “Hailwic is dead.” The words sounded like blasphemy in her ears. “She was a warrior, Senka. I’ve seen no man beat her with a sword. No man beat her with his hands. Not even Dracula. Whoever did this, they were strong. And fast. And she died saving us.”

  “Saving us?”

  “She broke the spear. With her own hands. So it couldn’t be used against us.” In the middle of the pile of ash, a blackened skull lay with its dark sockets staring sightless. Vasilja placed her hand gently on its crown. “With her last act, she protected us, Senka.”

  “I want to know who did this.”

  “So do I.”

  Senka flung herself at Vasilja, wrapping her arms around her sister. “I want to bite them, Vasilja. I want to bite and bite! I can’t bear it. I can’t.”

  Vasilja held Senka close. Confused by her own flaring emotions.

  Rage.

  She wanted vengeance.

  But fear, too.

  “Maybe we should go home, Senka. We need time to think about what’s happened. We need to plan. Yes. I think that would be best.”

  “No!” The younger vampire flew back, rearing into the air and snapping her jaws. Exhaled sharp. “We must go to Paris! We must, Vasilja.”

  Vasilja looked down at the skull.

  Aching loss threatened to make her explode.

  And it was that loss which fuelled her resentment. “You and your dream, Senka. Your silly dreams. That’s all they are.”

  “They’re not dreams!” She dropped. “I know what they are. They’re promises, Vasilja. Promises that if we follow this path, we’ll get what we want. Please, Vasilja. Please trust me.”

  Vasilja lifted her head.

  Cold eyes were warm behind her pupils.

  It was hard to know what to believe. Harder than before. Without Dracula. Without Hailwic, how could they make decisions? Who would tell her what to do now?

  Who would control Senka when she couldn’t?

  The young vampire crouched close, pale blue eyes wide.

  “Yes, but how sure are you, Senka? I’ve read about Fel, you know. There’s a book in the library at home. It was the energy which Lucifer stole from God. Energy he corrupted and used to build his own realm. The realm of Hell.”

  “I’ve seen it, Vasilja. Please believe me.”

  “I believe you dreamt about it. And that’s not quite the same thing, Senka.”

  “I know. Why do you think I never told you before?” Scowled. “I know you think I’m silly. You think I’m stupid. A child. But, I swear to you, Vasilja. This isn’t just a normal dream. It’s not.”

  “I still can’t see why our Master would show you those things.”

  “It’s the Bargain. I know it is. He wants us to succeed.”

  “But Dracula hasn’t done anything about that in years! If he hadn’t left the castle, we’d still be there. Still waiting for something which might never happen.”

  “Exactly!” Senka licked her lips. Reached and grabbed Vasilja’s arm. “Don’t you see? Dracula has grown weak. The Fel could make us more powerful. It could help us to fulfil the bargain. Hailwic knew this.”

  “Hailwic is dead.”

  Senka reached into the ashes and took the skull in her hand.

  Shook her head. “The Fel will revive her. I know it. I saw her in my dreams, remember? She was always there with us.”

  “Now you are being silly. We’re vampires, Senka. When we’re destroyed, we’re destroyed. Look. Look at this. This is Hailwic. You’re holding her in your hands. What’s left of her. There’s no coming back from this. She can’t heal.”

  “You’re wrong,” Senka said. Sounding sure. “We were given power over death. We’ve conquered it.”

  “This is different!”

  “No. It’s not.” Senka stood. Skull in her hand. “I love you, Vasilja. Even though you tease me. And think I’m stupid. I still love you. But I must go to Paris. If you won’t come with me, then I’ll go alone. I’ll crawl there. Through the mud. All by myself. I’m going to find these Luciferians Franz talked about. And then they’re going to give me their book. And I’m going to make a new Bargain. One which will bring back Hailwic and let us do what we were always meant to
do.”

  “You’re mad, Senka.”

  The young vampire laughed. “Of course I am! Aren’t we all? How else can we be what we are? But that doesn’t mean I’m not right.”

  Vasilja stared into Hailwic’s ashes.

  Could almost hear the warrior’s wisdom bubbling through the veil of death. A wisdom she desperately needed.

  Was Senka right?

  Could she really bring the Fel into the world?

  “When Dracula left to find you, he gave us no warning,” she said. “I was in his bed. He kissed me, Senka. And then left me there. I didn’t see him for almost a year. And when I did, he was leading you into the courtyard. I couldn’t understand. Did I do something wrong? Hailwic said it wasn’t me, though. She said it was just the way he was. There had been others, you see. Before me. But they don’t last. Only the three of us have managed to last. The others all went completely insane. If they didn’t escape, he used to chain them in the courtyard and let the sun destroy them. I was afraid he would do that to me after he brought you home.”

  “I’m sorry, Vasilja.”

  “Hailwic said it wasn’t your fault, and I believed her. It was my fault, you see. I always thought he chose me because he loved me. But he didn’t. I don’t think he knows why he chose us. Maybe it was just an instinct. Or maybe he was given our names. I don’t know. We never talk about it. Isn’t that silly?”

  “I wanted to be a witch,” Senka said. “There was an old lady outside our town. She seemed to know a lot of things. But she wouldn’t teach me. She kept saying I was too impatient. But I wouldn’t let her say no. I wanted her to tell me everything.”

  “A witch?” Vasilja couldn’t help but smile. “Witches are stupid, Senka. They dig holes at night and make terrible stews. And are far too attached to their broomsticks.”

  “I know that now, but I didn’t know it then. I thought she could give me power. I wanted power so much.” Senka looked out through the shattered window at the brutal line of peaks soaring high above. “I had none, you see. My life was meaningless. If I couldn’t get power, I was going to die a peasant. You might think I’m stupid, but inside I felt like I wasn’t. I felt like I was surrounded by animals. That’s all they’ve ever been to me. People, I mean. Animals. They’re obsessed with things I can’t understand. I don’t understand. I knew that if I had to spend my life among them, I’d only end up killing them all. I used to think about that a lot. I used to dream of going to their house, one by one. Late at night. With a pitchfork. And I’d kill them all. The men. The women. The children. All of them. And then I’d live in the town by myself. And it would be so peaceful without them.”

  “Well, witchcraft wouldn’t have got you that. At the least, it would have given you a taste for horrible food. At worst, you’d have been burned at a stake.”

  “I just wanted something different to happen.” She wiped ash from Hailwic’s skull. Looked at it like it wasn’t dead. As though she could smooth back the absent blonde hair. “And it did. Dracula found me. I had just stabbed the old witch and was trying to find her book of spells. All I found was a book about herbs.”

  “I told you.”

  “He brought me to you. I was afraid, with him. But when I saw you, Vasilja, I knew I didn’t have to be afraid.” She turned and looked with desperate eyes. “Because I knew I wasn’t alone. You were like me, too. You wanted something more.”

  Vasilja’s mouth opened to spill a sarcastic line.

  But instead, she looked down at her bloodstained dress and sighed. “Oh, you’re bothersome, Senka. You really are. I really wanted to hate you. I put a lot of effort into it, you know.” She pulled herself to her feet and took the younger vampire’s hand. “I love you, too. And I do trust you. Even if it sounds ridiculous. Which it does, by the way. But Paris is on the way to London, so it’s not too much of a distraction, I suppose.”

  “Then, you’ll come to London?”

  “Of course! You’d only get lost if you went on your own, and Hailwic’s ghost will never forgive me. She’d find a way to haunt me.” She put her hand on the skull, so they were all three joined again. “Whoever killed her needs to be bitten. Don’t you think?”

  Senka nodded. “I’m going to bite them a lot.”

  Dimiti cleared his throat from the doorway. “I’m sorry, Lady. Miss. The wagons are ready to go. I had to put the coffins onto one, though. But it’s a light cart and I’ve managed to round up three horses. They should do.”

  “Very good, Dimiti,” Vasilja purred. She drifted to the old man and patted his cheek. “Even though everything has turned out utterly terrible, I am so very grateful we found you.”

  “Aye, Lady. Thank you.”

  “Will you help Senka to find something nice to put Hailwic in? Nothing pretty, of course. She wouldn’t like being put in something pretty. I’m thinking of something functional. Something a fighter might like.”

  “I found a small armory downstairs,” he said. “There was a box for ammunition? It’s not very respectable, but it’s something a fighter might like.”

  “Actually, that sounds perfect. Make sure you keep her gun with her, will you? If Senka is right and we can revive her, I think she’ll want it again. She did seem quite attached to it.”

  “Yes, Lady.” He hesitated before leaving. “Where are we going now, may I ask?”

  “First, we must get to Zurich as quickly as possible. I’m done with wagons. Hailwic may prefer them, but this is the nineteenth century and I refuse to live with the smell of dung on everything anymore. I’ve heard there is a new train which will take us all the way to Paris.”

  “Paris.” He nodded. Took off his cap and scratched his long grey-flecked hair. “Train. Right.”

  “Oh, and Dimiti? If you see Franz again, do please put a bullet in his head. I can’t abide a man who would run away and leave us like that.”

  “Yes, Lady.” Grim smile. “That would be a pleasure.”

  “I thought it would.”

  “Is there really a train, Vasilja?” Senka’s eyes had been wide since mention. “I saw it in Vienna. The train, I mean. Could we really catch a train all the way from Zurich to Paris?”

  “The newspapers have been talking about it for a few years, so I’m hopeful. But these days, what can you believe in a newspaper? Most of what you find in them is little more than gossip.”

  “I want to travel on a train.”

  “I think it’s inevitable, alas.”

  “Alas? What do you mean, Vasilja?”

  “The smoke, Senka. Surely you saw it. It no doubt gets everywhere. And there’s grit which gets in your eyes.”

  “I’ll wear my hat, then.”

  “Yes,” Vasilja sighed. “I rather thought you might.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Zurich.

  If there had been snow, it’d already melted and left streets wet. Wide puddles formed across gap-toothed cobblestones. Gutters carried a steady flow of water into drains which eventually poured into the lake.

  Tall apartment buildings and townhouses stood to attention, their colourful facades doing nothing to warm the late evening chill. Dimiti kept his coat firmly buttoned around his body. Two sets of woollen gloves on his hands. A scarf muffled his neck and lower face. Wide-brim hat tied on his head.

  He urged the horses onward.

  Beside him, Vasilja held an umbrella against the rain.

  Not that it was doing much good. They were both still wet.

  “I should’ve stayed in my coffin, Dimiti,” she said sourly. “At least it’s dry in there.”

  People loped through the streets, heads down. Passing a factory, Vasilja winced at the stink. A few children rushed in front of the horses, eager to get into the factory’s gates before they were closed.

  An older man called them to hurry.

  Gas lamps, delicate and sometimes frosted with yellow glass, glowed with warmth they couldn’t deliver. Out front of restaurants, extra gaslights were attached to the walls an
d made the surrounding area gleam.

  Reflected in puddles, the glittering colours were too vivid for Vasilja, but the effect had Senka reeling on the wagon behind her. The young vampire had her coat and hat. Thrilled by the sights, she darted from one side of the wagon to the other.

  “Oh, Vasilja. Look at it! Isn’t it wonderful?”

  “Will you sit down, Senka? People are beginning to stare.”

  “No, they’re not. They’re more worried about the rain.” Sighed. “They can’t see the beauty that surrounds them.”

  “Yes, well. I don’t blame them. The weather is horrible.”

  “What’s that? That doesn’t look like a carriage.”

  “It’s a tram, Miss,” Dimiti said, steering the horses to one side. Out of the tram’s passage.

  “A tram?”

  “Yes,” he pointed to the rails running down the middle of the street. “Like a train, I suppose. But as you can see, it’s pulled by a horse.”

  Senka jumped down from the wagon and flashed toward the tram.

  “Senka! Come back!” Vasilja clicked her tongue. “Honestly, Dimiti. It’s like bringing a child to a sweets store. How can you control such a thing?”

  He shrugged. “I never knew, Lady.”

  “You didn’t have children?”

  “No, Lady.” He looked about to say something more, but changed his mind.

  “Well, I think you’re lucky.”

  “Thank you, Lady, I think.”

  Senka danced around the tram, amusing the driver. He waved at her and some of the passengers let out a laugh as she whirled around with a look of wonder in her eyes. She let out a few delighted squeals as it passed the wagon.

  “Look, Vasilja! Look how many are inside! It’s like a can of sardines. Look!”

  “It’s unnatural,” Vasilja called back. “No one should travel like that. It’s not civilized at all. Don’t you think, Dimiti?”

  “Wouldn’t catch me riding in one, Lady.”

  “See, Senka? Dimiti agrees. Now, come back before you make more of a fool of yourself. We don’t need the whole city talking about us.”

  Senka watched the tram continue up the road.

  Waved at one of the young men doing his best to get her attention.