“Jenny, you do have a way with words. I don’t know. Life is a complicated thing. I used to hate him but I don’t anymore. Time has a way of adjusting things. I really don’t know what he was going through. It is easy to judge people, and we all seem to do it, although the smart ones realize that it’s not the proper thing to do. There are simply no perfect people.”
Jenny adjusted her position. “Don’t be mad but I think that I might have seen him from a distance.”
Allison slowly turned her head toward her daughter. “What? I doubt that. What makes you say that?”
“Every couple of months or so I see a man standing about a hundred feet from the house, just outside of the spell zone that I have around the house. It’s almost as if he knows that if he takes a single step closer he’ll be overtaken by the enchantment. But as soon as I see him he blurs off into the night.”
“I see. Is he tall?”
“Yes, mother, he’s quite tall. How does it make you feel?”
Allison suddenly had a faraway look in her eyes. “I don’t know. It makes me wonder who is lurking out there.”
“I’m sorry mother. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
“I’m not sad. Pensive perhaps.”
Jenny took a large handful of popcorn and munched it as she thought. She attempted to imagine his handsome face, but as she’d never even seen a photo of him because of the fire several months after she was born, it was annoyingly difficult to have his face change from one look to another. Whatever she would envisage would be a faulty representation and she knew it. It made her cute face want to scream. She had wished that her mother would have been an artist so that she could draw him, but in that department she had no talent whatsoever.
“Mother, what would you do if he knocked on the door right now?”
“I’d split him in two with a shovel.”
Jenny laughed. “We don’t have a shovel.”
“I’d break my lamp over his head and then make him pay for it!”
“Mother, stop! Doesn’t sound like you’ve forgiven him.” Jenny became quiet for a time. “You do realize that he may have been killed by now. Most vampire fights end with the death of one or the other I would think.” Allison didn’t like where the conversation was going. It was getting to be a bit too dark. “I know but I prefer to believe that he ran away.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
STEPHEN, JOSHUA, LUKE AND NOAH battled for their lives against a single opponent. Philo was an ancient vampire with a vast knowledge of all things related to vampires, but he disliked the four to such a degree that he preferred to kill them on sight. They were intruders of the nastiest variety. They had purchased a spell and when they threw it against the house he had granted them entry.
Philo was a tall lanky fellow, but because he was so lean almost every single muscle was prominent. He had a Pompadour hairstyle from the 1950’s, and liked it so much that he never changed it. He wore braces with no shirt and made-to-measure fancy Brioni black pants. His brown eyes were notoriously scary. One would not want to bump into him after nightfall. Philo was an okay guy. As a human all those many years ago, he was virtually as good as he was bad, in perfect balance. And as a vampire he remained the same. He wasn’t at all into hurting humans unless they deserved it.
Inside his beautiful mansion on the outskirts of Catharpin Virginia, the four had invaded Philo’s sanctum and the battle had ensued almost instantaneously. And although Philo resembled a fifty-year-old man, his strength and speed was near equal to the four of them combined. Swords clashed and their bodies were kicked around with style. The sound from his sixteenth century Swiss long sword cutting through the air and into Luke’s jugular was satisfying to Philo. Luke gurgled as he healed upon the failed decapitation attempt. The jugular was restored but such a burning sensation remained that it was puzzling and excruciatingly painful.
Philo moved with smooth deliberate movements with his sword at the ready; he’d sidle several feet and then halt, showing his enigmatic grin. He was obviously experienced in battling battle tested vampires. Philo was almost always on the attack, and when he wasn’t his attitude made them believe that it was imminent. His rapid eye movements from side-to-side were disturbing. The fact that he was faster than they were was usually insurmountable in battle; they had all commenced to consider that they were the mice and he was the cat. Was he in fact playing with his food? It was best to maintain confidence in battle, lest the positivity be sucked out of them like so much blood. It was necessary for them to believe that they were holding their own, factual or not.
Stephen was booted so violently that he was driven into the original painting of knights in front of Hylton castle over the fireplace, painted by Philo himself from memory of that long ago day. The sound was that of canvas popping and bones shattering. The three century old painting was destroyed and fell to the floor but there was nothing to be done about it. The art showed two of the knights laughing as a third feigned being pierced and vanquished by a five-year-old blond boy with a wooden sword. The boy’s name now escaped Philo. He hadn’t considered the trajectory when he kicked Stephen and now regretted the destruction of his art.
Luke and Joshua swung with such force that Joshua nearly decapitated Luke in error, and with it Philo showed them all his grisly old grimace. His fangs appeared to be a little longer than usual, though the four had no idea of what that meant, if anything. He deflected blows from three of them which seemed happenstance, as Luke watched briefly and was impressed. The conflict was sufficiently levelled that even at four against one the outcome was unknown. Philo was aware, as were they all, that if he could dispatch one of them then the balance would be tipped in his favour.
“I give you this single opportunity to flee,” said Philo. “Do with it what you will.”
Everyone paused at the offer. Stephen stared at the others but wasn’t sure what to make of it. He suspected that if they did attempt to escape that with his speed he would cut them down or at least get one of them on the way out. Was it a sign of weakness on Philo’s part? The four felt that they were just barely holding their own, or that he was playing with them.
Philo cut into Steven’s shoulder and the furious scream that was produced from him would be horrifying to any human. It was a scream as if from a tortured soul in the pits of hell. It was surprising to most of them what had come out of Stephen, although Philo did guffaw at it. The screech that had burst forth even startled him. The pain burned like fire from the salt that the blade had been dusted with, and as it healed the salt remained inside him and continued to corrode. It was an old trick that the four weren’t aware of but now could become a distraction and lead to the destruction of all of them, especially if Stephen was unable to ignore the pain.
No mercy would exist should Philo gain the upper hand, and really none was deserved.
They all halted and stared at one another. The pain was obvious to all of them as Stephen was unable to conceal it. It was like a hot poker burning on the inside. He did a little dance and was livid as he screamed once more. The eyes of the other three widened as they feared that the end was near. It was not only salt in his shoulder but acid as well. There was a constant healing and hurting effect going on in there, and he simply couldn’t ignore it. It was nearly impossible to ignore agony, no matter how tough a biter was. Philo did a backflip and cut open the top of Luke’s head as it was his turn to scream out in agony. His head felt as though it would burst open from the fire.
“Arrrrrgghhh! His sword is poisoned!” Stephen screamed.
“It has been covered in a few ingredients. It’ll take months for the pain to subside, but fortunately for you miscreants you don’t have months. So I wouldn’t worry too much.”
“Last chance to take him boys.” Noah raised his eyebrows and the three knew exactly what it meant. There would only be one more opportunity to avoid death as the hands of the ancient biter. A distraction was needed for it to work, and they would attempt it as the situation was go
ing downhill fast. Confidence had departed all four of them but they would give it a try nonetheless. They had their lives to lose but had only themselves to blame for the situation. They had invaded Philo’s home and perhaps would have to face the consequences.
Stephen, Luke and Joshua jumped nearly five feet into the air, and as Philo prepared to take all three of their heads with a single swing, he suddenly found himself stuck with a large syringe of horse tranquilizer. Noah had managed to stick and inject him with the murky substance, and he almost instantly found himself in slowed state. He staggered backwards and fell over his recliner chair. Philo managed to sit himself up with difficulty but discovered that he couldn’t stand. Everything had become blurry with delayed streaks of movement.
“Well, well, well,” said Seven. His pain made him want to destroy the old biter but with great effort managed to restrain himself. “The dog has lost its bite.”
“Make it quick.” Philo’s vision was distorted and unstable. Waves of blurred vision washed over him, and then a sensation of excessive warmth.
“We seek the dagger Hithroma.” Joshua tapped him on the top of the head with his sword. “Tell us where it lies and we might let you live. Maybe. Anything is possible with a little cooperation.”
“Take his sword and cut him with it. Let him feel the burn!” Stephen thought on it and then changed his mind. “No wait. The pain combined with the tranquilizer just might render him unconscious.”
Philo wiped his nose which had inexplicably commenced to run, and again he tried to get up but couldn’t manage it. “What the hell was in that? I do not know where Hithroma is located. I have an idea of one possible location, but you should understand that it might not be there.”
Stephen looked down at him dubiously. “What are you talking about? Spit it out. Lies won’t help you now.”
“You fools do realize that if you destroy Dracula you destroy us all?”
“Everyone sings the same song.” Stephen did a complete circle around Philo.
“That is a falsehood started by the Master himself I suspect.” Joshua sheathed his sword.
“I know the location of one of the vamp museums, and it is one possible location of Hithroma. Take it or leave it.”
Luke shrugged. “What the shit is he talking about?”
Philo continued his attempts to stand but couldn’t as he finally gave up. “There are five museums that exist to showcase objects and famous vampires throughout history. Only a select few are aware of these museums. They were supposed to be for all vampires but the higher ups refused to share. Replicas of Hithroma exist in all of them.”
Stephen rubbed his burning wound. “We have no use of a replica!”
“The genuine article is moved around and around, and the replicas are sometimes replaced with the real thing. A way of hiding it in plain sight.”
“Is Dracula aware of these museums?”
“Yes, but as far as we know he hasn’t been to one in many centuries.”
Stephen nodded and considered. “Sounds like terrible odds. Are you able to tell the real thing from a fake?”
“I am.”
“Well?”
Philo rubbed his eyes and forehead. “Their handles are all imbedded with a red ruby. The ruby on the genuine Hithroma is slightly larger than the rest.”
“That does us a lot of good. Would you really recognise the genuine article?”
“I would.”
“All the rubies are genuine rubies?”
“Yes, of course.”
Joshua shook his head. “He’s making all this shit up.”
“I am not.”
“So tell us where this so-called museum is located.”
“It will be necessary for me to show you. You’ll have to carry me. How long do the effects endure?”
“You’ll be weak for at least five or six days.” Stephen gestured to Joshua and Luke to pick him up. “Your speed should return in a couple of weeks, but you’ll be bumping into a hell of a lot of stuff. Trees, buildings. Just like an inebriated human. But all the effects will eventually pass.”
“That is just great.”
Stephen threw himself down on the sofa. “We’re going to want to find that place before you fully recover. So don’t get it in your head that you can stall for days and then suddenly dispatch us.”
Philo threw up a stream of vomit that reached across the room, mostly blood. “And you have to agree that you won’t dispatch me, otherwise there’s nothing in it for me.”
Stephen thought on it. “That is disgusting. Agreed.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
It was a gray and rainy morning in Orlando. It was raining so hard one wouldn’t have been able to stop and avoid hitting one’s mother-in-law crossing the road, even if one actually wanted to elude the collision. The palm trees were flowing with the wind as the bands of rain struck the area, annoying tourists and making them restless. The parks weren’t as much fun in heavy rain. Those with short vacation times were even more worried by the forecast. Some were forced to fight the rain in their plastic ponchos, which were big business in the Orlando area, especially on this day.
Dracula wasn’t sure if the area had more hotels or restaurants in the International Drive area, it had plenty of both.
When Dracula entered Parc Corniche the Siamese cat was in the passenger seat with his old friend Zacharia trapped inside it. He drove around building five; his global positioning system didn’t recognise the area as he hadn’t upgraded it to the newest map. So the small section where his luxury suite was located wasn’t recognised by the GPS. The Tom Tom GPS was very reliable and he wouldn’t travel without it. It was different travelling in bat form as things were viewed from the air, but on occasion he preferred to travel in his black Infiniti QX56 8 passenger vehicle. He preferred the Tom Tom GO255TM even though the vehicle did have its own navigation system. The 400 horsepower V8 5.6 litre machine was nice, and he enjoyed all the room although he didn’t need it. The vehicle had never carried another passenger.
Past building 5 on the right was the newest section with their eight luxury condo types; he stayed in the unit 6106 with the 6 on the front door. Two palm trees to the left was a nice addition.
“Well cat, we’re here.”
The cat made a combination of half meows and guttural sounds from the passenger seat as they pulled into the parking space in front of the door. Dracula thought the cat sounded hilarious. The sound that was coming out of Moon Diamond was too funny. He could read the cats mind but it was natural for Zacharia to attempt to talk with words, and it annoyed him every single time the Master laughed at him.
All vampires in the area had become instantaneously restless and uneasy with his presence in the area. It was as if they were in the path of a category 5 hurricane. Many it felt as if someone was ready to pounce on them from around every corner to decapitate and destroy, and because of it vampire crime slowed to virtually zero in most of the state of Florida. All the vampires were on edge and out to save their own skin. Few vampires actually realized the effect and pull that the Master had on them and sometimes from several hundred miles away, depending upon how sensitive they were to his presence. A few recognised his arrival and immediately headed out into other states, knowing that they would never be a match to his strength and power.
The luxury hotel suite had style and comfort, with an upstairs containing a master bedroom and a smaller bedroom with two single beds. The place had 1200 square feet of living space, and a complete kitchen. The downstairs contained an LG television which he never turned on, along with an electric stove, dishwasher, microwave and a spacious black Amana refrigerator, which contained lots of space for his beakers of blood. There was a table to seat six, and a sofa that also pulled out into a sofa bed. He couldn’t decide if the walls were butter yellow, or had a slight tinge of green to them. Dracula glanced at the nice chandelier over the table, but nothing to compare with his expensive one at home. Ceiling fans were in both bedrooms, inc
luding the living room. The sliding doors also revealed a small private patio off the living room.
Dracula sat in the living room on the sofa and stared at the television, which was turned off. The cat was curled up on the comfy chair beside the sofa. Zacharia remained slightly annoyed at having been laughed at. The Master waited for Piers Anthony to contact him as he tried to pull himself out of his suicidal funk, nothing really seemed interesting enough to him to actually want to be alive. When he checked his cell phone he noticed a call from an old flame that captured his interest. His memories went to all the good times they had had, which were considerable. He remained undecided whether or not to return the call, although he felt that he would talk to her, sooner or later. She had been the one to break off the relationship, and it continued to irritate him.
Dracula both hated and liked Piers for aggrieving and pursuing him; he knew of no other that would dare to do so, and for that reason alone there was some admiration. He also liked his books and so that was at least a little morsel of flickering life that tugged at him. And so Dracula waited patiently for Piers to show up and vex him some more, it was commencing to be the only damn thing that he had to look forward to in his miserable life. That in itself was enough to hang himself from his chandelier, and remain there forever.
One day turned into three when finally Piers showed up at 10:15 in the morning beneath a bright sunny Florida sky and banged on door number 6 with the knocker. Clack, clack, clack the knocker collided with the door as the author waited patiently. The air was alive with the songs of birds. He knew that Dracula could hear him, and he also knew that he might just take his time to respond. Suddenly, the sound of wind as the master blurred down the carpeted stairs to the edge of the door, but there he remained silent. Piers could feel him behind the door. His omnipotence was disturbing at such a close distance, and of course Dracula was aware of it. He could sense how it made the author uncomfortable, and that’s exactly why he did it.
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