The Dracula Chronicles: The Path To Decay

by Shane KP O'Neill

  His first thought was to turn and run back the way he had come, despite the dangers that posed. It took just one glance at her face for him to know the gravity of his situation. He felt every hair on his body stand up with the icy chill that passed through him. His every instinct advised him he was in the presence of the ultimate evil. It had lured him here to this spot, and it would not let him go.

  “Vasil,” he heard her whisper, though she did not move her lips. “I have been awaiting you.”

  He tensed just at the sound. “How do you know my name?”

  “I know all there is to know of you,” she answered, moving her lips on this occasion. “It is your time.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice trembling. “Who are you?”

  “I am the one to whom you owe your debt.”

  “My debt? What are you speaking of?”

  “Your soul. It is the debt you must pay to me for the life you have chosen.”

  There was no need for words, but Lucy enjoyed these moments. She drew the greatest pleasure from seeing how this pitiable species pleaded for mercy any time she called on any of them. Mercy was a quality she had no concept of, and there would be none for Divak. His soul was damned a long time past, and now it was time to pay.

  Divak became hypnotised by her gaze, unable to look away or close his eyes. His knees trembled when she moved forward until she stood less than a foot away. Her slight form was noticeably shorter than his and yet he was the one who was intimidated. His eyes remained glued to hers, his only thought of what she planned to do to him.

  He felt more than ever the helplessness of his situation, and knew she could do with him as she pleased. She did not appear physically able to hurt him, yet just her presence was enough to terrify him. It occurred to him that she had orchestrated all he had seen, and that she possessed power far beyond his understanding. As he stood there, paralysed by his fear, he wondered what the extent of this power meant for him. If she had control over his soul, then she had to be a demon of some kind.

  It was then he became aware of the other presences around him. A series of nasty, spitting growls and hateful, inhuman voices filled the small area. He did not see any signs of life within eyeshot, but for dozens of shadows that raced about behind Lucy at dazzling speeds. The sounds frightened him so much that both his knees began to shake. He had never in his life considered his mortality or the destiny of his soul as a consequence of the life he led. That moment was upon him now. His whole life flashed before his eyes, and thoughts of the fate that awaited him raced through his mind with real clarity. He knew he was about to die. Everything he could draw from this situation told him so, and he had resigned himself to it. What would follow his death started to concern him more.

  “You need not trouble yourself with it,” Lucy said, her lips curling into an evil grin. “I have such delights planned for you.”

  Divak tried to speak, but could not get the words out. He felt a rush of warmth when his sphincter muscle contracted and opened his bladder.

  Lucy took a long, exaggerated breath. “Fear has such a wondrous smell. Yours is stronger than most I have encountered.”

  Tears streamed down his cheeks from both eyes. He wanted more than anything to keep his resolve and give a show of strength. More than at any time in his life, he wanted the steel in his character to come to the fore. But now, as the last moments of his life ebbed away, any semblance of courage had long since deserted him.

  He looked down in horror when a deep laceration appeared across his chest. It started close to his left shoulder and cut a line down to his navel. A second followed it, starting from the opposite side to form a large red V shape when it joined the first. He gasped from the shock and pain, not sure of the source of the attack.

  A third wound tore through his hosiery and left two deep gashes across the backs of both his thighs. He cried out and water filled his eyes before a fourth ripped through the tendons and muscles on his calves.

  Divak dropped to his knees, blood soaking his clothing and the traces of frozen snow on the ground. He looked up at Lucy and held out his left hand, his lower lip quivering. His right hand he pressed against his chest, though unable to stem the flow of blood.

  Lucy stepped up to him, her body pressing against his outstretched hand. Her hatred for him welled inside her. She looked at him without emotion, unfazed by the silent plea for mercy in his eyes. He would not get any from her. She knew if he died by her hand, then she would lose his soul to God. Every soul was precious in the scheme of things and none less valuable than another. Yet in this instance, she did not care. Divak had tried to kill her special one, and he would suffer for it.

  In the alleys and narrow streets nearby, the rats and wild dogs ran for cover. Long before they saw any of the giant pythons, they sensed them coming. The monstrous beasts paid them no heed and continued on with their search.

  The other gang members hid away in their homes, still shaking from what they had seen in the piata. To a man, they hoped and prayed they were now safe. None had brought food home for their families, but that did not concern too many of them in that moment.

  Georgi had ushered his wife and children to the back room in their humble home. He sat alone now in the other room, not wanting them to see the fear racing through him. On any given day, his wife’s frustration at his coming home empty-handed would be a source of great angst for him. Today, he cared nothing for the dirty looks directed his way, and he dismissed her almost at once.

  He sat alone on a battered old chair, remembering the moment Dimitar had come back to life. The sound of screaming nearby broke his train of thought. He quickly realised it was Divak he could hear, and he felt every scream go through his entire body. They grew so bad he had to put a hand to his mouth to stifle a sob. His heart thumped loud in his chest as he wondered if he would fall victim to whatever it was that was out there. He lowered his head in both hands when Divak screamed yet again. It was the last sound Georgi heard. He looked up just as the front door of his home came crashing in. The python allowed him barely a glimpse of it before it converged on him and devoured him whole.

  The pythons ripped doors off hinges in other houses as they sought out their prey. None of the gang members escaped their grisly fates. Divak was oblivious to it all. The forces around him continued to pass him by and slash at his battered torso again and again.

  In the moment he closed his eyes to succumb to his fate, Lucy grabbed his head in both hands. She forced him to look up at her before she exerted pressure with her palms against the sides of his face. He omitted one last agonising scream as his skull crumbled in her hands, blood oozing from his ears and out through her fingers.

  Lucy grimaced and ripped his head clean off, just as the shadows converged on him and shredded the rest of his body into thousands of tiny pieces. The spray from the pulp that had been flesh and bone covered her from head to toe. She held his head up, and looked at it, before tossing it in the fountain and leaving the scene behind.

  HELL.

  THE TEMPLE OF BAAL.

  IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE BATTLE WITH THE ANGELS.

  Adramelech convened the General Council the moment the Christ had closed the porthole. He held this position as the head of the Council along with the title of Grand Chancellor of the Infernal Empire.

  Baal hosted the meeting in his Temple. As the first monarch of Hell, all such meetings took place in his House. He sat upon his throne, although not presiding over the Council of demons.

  With his three heads Baal could see everyone present. On his right shoulder was the head of a cat. On his left a toad. His central head was that of a man. It was upon this he wore his crown of gold and precious gems.

  Lucifer and Satanachia both lay down to the left of the throne. They still nursed their wounds from the earlier battle. The remainder of the Sephiroth, aside from Lucifer and Adramelech, took a central position beneath Baal. They still fumed at the intervention of the Christ. It had deprived them of t
he capture of Michael.

  Moloch seemed the most agitated of all. He growled and spat at the others around him. A few times he spun around too, swinging his huge tail. Adramelech knew he would have to wait for him to settle before trying to commence.

  “Relax, brother,” Lucifer said to him.

  Moloch glared at him through red eyes. “Do not tell me to relax!” he snarled. “How can I rest after this calamity that has passed?”

  “Great Lord,” Adramelech said. “When the meeting begins we can discuss it.”

  Moloch turned on his front legs to eye the Grand Chancellor. His eyes burned with rage, never one to care who he offended. “Do not try to placate me! I have every right to be angry.”

  “Then vent your anger during the discussion.”

  “I shall vent my anger however I choose. You had best remember that, lest I vent it on you!”

  Baal stood up on his long spindly legs. They allowed him to extend to a height taller even than Moloch. “This is a meeting of your brother’s General Council,” he reminded him. “In my House. Afford the Grand Chancellor the respect he deserves.”

  Moloch growled under his breath and settled down to allow Adramelech to speak. The Grand Chancellor looked to Lucifer, who nodded to him to proceed.

  “Thank you, Highness,” he said. “I have called this meeting because of concerns raised about the recent events.”

  “Raised by whom?” Lucifer asked.

  “The other members of the Sephiroth.”

  Lucifer nodded for him to proceed. He looked one at a time at them. “What are their concerns?”

  “They want to know how we were caught in a conflict that involved the Christ.”

  Satanachia leant forward. He clutched at his stomach and growled. “The Christ was not meant to be involved.”

  “You think we could try and ensnare Michael without his intervention?”

  “I had nothing to do with any attempt to capture him. It is the Sephiroth that needs to answer for that.”

  Taurvi glared at the Grand General. “We could not pass over such a chance.”

  “Even if it started a second great war?”

  “Was it not you who perpetuated this fiasco?” Ahriman cut in. “You have much to answer for.”

  Agaliarept jumped to the defence of his Grand General. “We had a window of opportunity. That, too, could not be passed over!”

  Ahriman looked threatening in his manner. “I did not address you!”

  Adramelech broke up the argument. “He can speak for the Grand General.”

  “The Grand General seems well capable to me to speak for himself.”

  Satanachia decided then, that he should speak. He did so with his arm tight across his stomach. The wound would take time to heal, having come from Raphael’s sword. “I saw a chance to kill the one known as Andrei. We could all see him.”

  “I do not dispute that,” Ahriman glared. “You should have waited until we were ready to support you.”

  “And the chance could have gone.”

  “That excuse is a lame one,” Ahriman snarled. The Supreme God of Evil was so angry he spat fire from his mouth. “I say you were looking for glory and stepped above your station.”

  “I have the authority to act for his Highness!”

  “That is your excuse every time you fail us! You could have started another great war!”

  Aeshma stepped forward in support of Ahriman. “We are not yet ready for another war.”

  “I did not see any of your legions fall,” Agaliarept reminded him. “It is the Grand General who incurred the losses from his army.”

  Lucifer spoke up for the first time. “The Grand General acted for me. I am satisfied that he acted properly. It was a good battle and much needed, if we are able to learn something from it.”

  “You must not influence the discussion, Highness,” Ahriman hissed. “This is a proper inquiry.”

  “Yes,” Lucifer concurred, standing up. “And my word still overrides all others.”

  Ahriman bowed to him and backed away.

  Lucifer walked to the centre of the gathering. “The boy, Andrei, is the one who stands in the way of our goals. When the opportunity presented itself to kill him, I could not ignore it. Let that not be in issue here.”

  “We do things your way, brother, and it almost spells disaster for us,” Moloch spat with contempt.

  “Do not rile me, brother,” Lucifer warned. “My word is the only word in this kingdom. We do it the way I decide, or not at all. That is unless anyone here wishes to make a challenge to my rule.”

  Moloch swung his tail angrily. None of the others took the gauntlet he had thrown down. They all knew he could destroy any one of them.

  “Are any of you ready to fight another war?” Lucifer asked the group of demons once he was satisfied his authority remained firm.

  They each met his gaze, but again none of them spoke.

  “I thought not,” Lucifer mused. “If you are, then say the word. I shall lead the attack against Heaven myself.”

  “That day shall come, Highness,” Adramelech said. “But this is not the time.”

  “Indeed,” Lucifer agreed. “That is why we do it my way.”

  “With the boy Dracula?” Ahriman asked him.

  “Yes. Time is the one thing we have in abundance for the now.”

  “And what do you propose to do, Highness? Masquerade as a woman forever?”

  Lucifer walked up to Ahriman and pushed him down. The others shifted about, nervous that Lucifer might explode into a rage.

  “I shall continue to nurture him ‘til he is ready.”

  “And what then?” Moloch pressed.

  “He shall bring down the Church of the Christ. When that comes to pass, mankind shall turn against our Father once more.”

  Moloch grunted his acceptance. The idea had appeal for him.

  “When that day comes our Father shall despair. Everything that has passed between the divides is due to His love for the wretched species. When man turns his back on Him, then should it be the time for us to return to our rightful place.”

  They all nodded their heads.

  “There is no dispute to answer to here. The Grand General acted for me. It is what I wanted.”

  Moloch nodded. “A little skirmish is always a good thing. It keeps us at the ready.”

  “Yes, brother,” Lucifer agreed, looking up at him. He turned to Abbadon. “Return the Chains to the vault. I have business with my wife. This meeting is over.”

  WALLACHIA.

  THE SITE OF VLAD DRACUL’S OLD CAMP

  TO THE EAST OF BUCHAREST.

  DECEMBER 18, 1447.

  Rodrigul spent his days thinking of his friend. He found it hard to accept Dracul was gone. Though he had seen it with his own eyes, he scarcely believed it still. Never again would he hear Dracul’s voice, or his words of wisdom. He would never hear him laugh, nor see his face.

  Kazic had left two days earlier with the rest of the Ottoman cavalry. He had waited as long as he could, but with no sign of Vlad in four days he told Rodrigul that they had to return home.

  Plenty of food remained in the camp. There was more than enough to feed both Rodrigul and the woman. He rarely ever spoke to her, his heart full of hate for Basarab.

  She still mourned the death of her daughter at Oltenita. For her to die that way was both evil and cruel. She swore never to forgive Vlad.

  For the first two days, she refused to eat. But in time, hunger and the urge to survive got the better of her. Eating was the only occasion that she engaged with her captor. She was happy that he had no desire to talk to her.

  A week had elapsed since Vlad left the camp. Rodrigul began to wonder what had become of him. He feared that Vlad might even be dead. These were dangerous times now, especially for one with Draculesti blood. With Dracul gone, law and order would exist no more.

  The day they buried Dracul, he rode to the scene of the battle. There, he hoped to retrieve the Fier Neg
ru. He saw that the opposing army had burned the bodies of the dead. It was a sacrilegious act in the Catholic faith to cremate anyone, but with the ground frozen solid, they could not bury any of the bodies. Huge mounds of ash marked the spots where the cremations had taken place.

  He saw no sign of the great sword. After a long search, he gave up. He believed one of Mihail’s men, maybe even Mihail himself, had claimed it as a trophy.

  Rodrigul perked up for the very first time the night he heard a rider nearing the camp. He put a finger to his lips to warn the woman to remain quiet. She did so while he reached for his sword. Then he waited behind the cover of a large oak. If the rider was hostile, he was ready to pounce.

  Vlad slowed when he got close to the camp where he knew Rodrigul was sure to be lying in wait. He did not want to risk injury, or worse. “Alin!” he called out as he rode in.

  His friend stepped from behind the tree and smiled to welcome his return. “It is good to see you, Vlad. I was beginning to worry.”

  “Do not fear, my friend. I am more than able to look after myself.”

  “Yes I can see that.”

  “Kazic has gone?”

  “Yes, he left with his men two days past.”

  “I imagine he could not wait around for me. How is my prisoner?”

  “She is well. No bother at all.”

  “Good. What have you been doing in my time away?”

  “I must confess very little other than waiting around for you to return. I did ride to the battlefield to find your father’s sword, but it was not there.”

  Vlad smiled at him. “Do not trouble yourself over it. I have the Fier Negru.”

  He drew the sword from its scabbard for him to see.

  It brought a smile to Rodrigul’s face. “How did you come by it?”

  “I found it on my travels.”

  “Maybe God is smiling down on you after all.”

  “We can only hope. I should need Him in the months ahead.”

  “What are your plans?”

  “To follow my father,” he said, with real grit in his voice. “And fight for the throne that is mine.”