The Dracula Chronicles: Bound By Blood

by Shane KP O'Neill

Gabriel looked desperate. His horse spun around a few times in a circle as he tugged the reins. “I cannot give up,” he said. “He is my father.”

  “We tried,” Ioan consoled him. “It is time to return to the camp.”

  Gabriel knew he was right. He nodded and turned his horse around to go back with them. They never saw their father again.

  Andrei rode into Croatia and then through southern Austria. His progress was slow as he had to negotiate several mountain passes with much lower temperatures. It was a relief when he crossed the border into Venice. From there, he passed through Este, Pisa, and Tuscany, before arriving outside Rome. The journey took more than two months.

  THE sun rose early over the hills, but Andrei awoke at dawn. It took him a time to get up, as his whole body ached. He sensed his end was near. The thought made him smile, knowing he would soon see Antonia again.

  He took a deep breath as he looked on the city below. Rome was not a good place. In this time of Pope Alexander VI, the city had become decadent and unsafe. It swarmed with adventurers, murderers, gangs, and prostitutes.

  Many an eye fell on him as he rode through the streets. Women openly flaunted their bodies on the street corners. Some even walked up to him as he rode by. He did not even look at them. His rebukes saw some of them curse and swear at him. A few even hurled rotten food his way.

  In other streets, men brawled openly with each other. Andrei soon realised there was no law and order here. The rotten smell of decay met him wherever he went. He wondered why God tolerated it. In the past, He had destroyed places such as this, and without mercy.

  Even in the Rione Borgo, things did not improve. Andrei hoped that near the Vatican, the streets might be quieter. This was not the case. Another huge fight erupted right in front of him in the street he had turned into. Both factions wielded knives and other weapons. He tried to turn around, but could not. The gangs spilled out from side streets into the area behind him too.

  He watched many of them fall down. Some were dead, while others lay on the ground bleeding. His horse jostled about in fear of the chaos all around. After a time, the battle ended. The defeated gang fled, leaving their dead friends littering the narrow street.

  The rival gang now focused on Andrei. They surrounded him on all sides in case he tried to get away. Like Dracula, Andrei had the gift of knowing many languages. He could understand everything they said to each other.

  “That is a fine horse,” the gang leader said to him.

  Andrei nodded. “That it is.”

  “I want it.”

  “Perhaps you should ask in a nicer fashion,” Andrei said. “Then, I might give it to you.”

  The man eyed Andrei in case he had a weapon on him. There were none that he could see. “Perhaps you should climb down.”

  “I shall not do that.”

  The man grew agitated. He was someone who was used to getting what he wanted. Andrei observed him with a keen eye, and saw a black aura surrounded the man. It hinted to him that the man’s death was close. Blood covered his clothes from those he had killed. Andrei knew the man would think nothing of killing him too.

  He nodded his head to a man on Andrei’s right. His accomplice approached Andrei with a knife in hand. Andrei turned his head and looked down into his eyes. The man stopped in his tracks. Suddenly, he cried out and dropped the blade, which glowed red against the ground.

  The man looked at him and stepped back. The gang leader glanced down at the knife. “Are you a sorcerer, of sorts?”

  “No,” Andrei said, returning his stare. “I am nothing of the like.”

  “You could burn for such a thing.”

  “Then burn me, if you can.”

  It was a rare thing for him to issue such a challenge. Looking at the men around him, he felt he needed to show strength and courage.

  The gang leader could not refuse a challenge, especially with his men looking on. Should he not accept it, then there would surely be a contest for his position as the head of the group.

  A strong wind blew in from nowhere and gusted through the narrow street. Some of the men found it a little unsettling, but not the gang leader. He kept his eyes fixed on Andrei.

  The horse reared its front legs and struck out at him. He had to step back quickly to avoid a possibly fatal blow. The gang members to the rear made a move on Andrei. When they came within a foot of the horse, an invisible force knocked them back. Each man crashed into one of the houses on either side of the street.

  The gang leader no longer felt so brave. Andrei suddenly looked an imposing figure on his horse. “It would be best for everyone if you let me pass,” he said.

  “You can walk out of here,” the man advised, “but the horse stays.”

  Andrei leaned forward in the saddle as if to whisper to the gang leader. “Your heart is so black, so twisted with anger and hate. It does not bode well for you with the moment when you stand before God so close at hand.”

  Intimating the man would soon die only served to anger him further. His face twisted with anger as he took a step toward Andrei again. “God does not exist in these streets. The blade is all that counts here, and the one with the strength to wield it.”

  “If only that were true, for your sake. Repent, while you still can, before your soul is lost. Embrace the Lord, our God, and ask His forgiveness for your sins.”

  One of the gang threw a knife at Andrei. He could do nothing as it struck him in the chest near to his heart.

  The gang leader grinned. He expected that to be the end of it.

  Andrei groaned in pain and slumped forward in the saddle. For a moment, he closed his eyes, but he had to meet with the pope. This would not stop him.

  He focused on the pain. Gripping the hilt in his right hand, he pulled the blade out of his chest. Slowly, he felt an incredible strength building inside. It started at his feet and moved up through his entire body.

  The gang members watched on in silence. They saw Andrei’s body tense. His head lolled back as his aging muscles grew taut and rigid. It threw his arms out to either side, where a blue current crackled from the tips of his fingers. The force of it lifted him out of the saddle.

  Each of the men stepped back. They realised they had made a mistake. What man can rise into the air like a bird?

  “The blade is melting in his hand!” one of them cried out.

  The gang leader looked at the knife and watched it drop to the ground. Smoke rose from the leather hilt. The metal was twisted and emitted an eerie blue glow.

  The horse bolted clear. When one of the men tried to grab the reins, it crashed into him and knocked him down. Andrei remained in the same spot, about six feet above the ground.

  The gang forgot the horse for a moment. Except for their leader, their eyes stayed focused on the old man. Suddenly a brilliant blue light shot out from the wound in Andrei’s chest. Each man who saw it cried out and dropped to his knees.

  “I cannot see!” one of them cried.

  One or two stood up and staggered about with their hands over their eyes. The light had blinded every one of them. Andrei opened his own eyes again. He looked down to see the gang leader standing straight in front of him. The wound in his chest closed and, slowly, he eased back down to ground level.

  “I am blind!” another of the gang cried out.

  The gang leader did not seem to care about the plight of his men. “If you are not a sorcerer, then who are you?” he asked Andrei.

  “I am but an honest man, with a good heart and a good soul.”

  “Then I shall cut it out of you,” the man snarled.

  “Are you sure you want to do that?” Andrei replied, standing his ground. “It is not my moment to die.”

  “I could soon make it so.”

  Andrei shook his head. “To try would only bring you harm. The aura around you is black. You should embrace God while you still can.”

  The man did not have it in him. He slanted his eyes and squared up to Andrei. “Look at what you ha
ve done to my men. You shall neither walk nor ride out of this alley for it.”

  Andrei glanced down at the blade in the other man’s hand and grabbed the wrist that held it. The man cursed as he tried with all his might to push it into the much older man.

  The blue static in Andrei’s hands passed from him to the gang leader. The man tensed all over and staggered backwards when Andrei released the grip on him. The static crackled and flickered all over the man’s body. He cried out for a moment, until it passed into his mouth.

  He collapsed and writhed about on the ground. Both his orbs glowed with the same brilliant blue. His body convulsed and jerked. When the light finally faded, the man fell still. Andrei moved on to find his horse. He did not want to be there when the Black Ones came.

  ROME PROVINCE. THE VATICAN ENCLAVE

  IN THE CITY OF ROME.

  JUNE, 1502. THE SAME DAY.

  Andrei arrived at the Vatican soon after. He heard the Black Ones come for the gang leader, even from a distance. The damned soul of the man screamed out loud for mercy when they did. Blindness did not prevent him from seeing them, nor the images of the Abyss they showed to him before they dragged him down.

  Pilgrims filled St. Peter’s Square, where they had gathered to hear the pope say Mass. Andrei walked around the edge of the vast square. He stopped when he saw a woman dressed in mere rags. She had a baby hanging from a breast that resembled little more than a sagging flap of skin, and three other small ones close by. When she looked up, she offered him a smile.

  He sensed she had a warm soul the moment their eyes met. “How long is it since you have eaten?” he asked her.

  She lowered her head. It appeared to him that she felt embarrassed at her situation. “I do not know,” she whispered, her voice weak.

  “Is your husband close by?”

  “No, he is no longer in this world.”

  “I am sorry,” Andrei said. “You need to eat. I have some food.”

  Her stomach growled at the mention of it. “I have nothing to pay you with, sir,” she said. “And I shall not give my body.”

  He seemed hurt by her words. “I do not want anything from you.”

  “I am sorry,” she said. “I am not used to such kindness.”

  He passed her a bundle, which she opened. Inside, she found bread and some fruit. She broke off a piece from the loaf and stuffed it into her mouth.

  “Ensure your children eat too.”

  She stopped chewing when the children crowded around her, seeing she had food.

  “Allow me,” he said. “You look after the baby.”

  Andrei fed each of her children, though the bread and fruit did not last long. They were starving. The woman looked up at him, and smiled.

  “You can have my horse,” Andrei said. “It should fetch a fair price.”

  “You cannot give me your horse.”

  “I do not need it any longer,” he assured her. “Not where I am going.”

  He left her there. The crowd cheered when the pope appeared on the balcony at the top of the square. Andrei moved through the masses. He looked up for a moment and eyed the small figure of Alexander. When he walked to the entrance beneath, the Swiss Guard blocked his path.

  “You cannot enter here,” one of them said.

  Andrei looked deep into his eyes. “The Holy Father needs to see me.”

  The guard returned his gaze, ready to scoff at and dismiss the comment. He found a peace and tranquillity in Andrei’s eyes that touched him deep inside. His demeanour changed at once. When Andrei smiled, he smiled too. He stepped aside to let the old man pass.

  Andrei walked through the great halls. When anyone saw him, they just left him be. He made his way to the pope’s private quarters, his instincts guiding him there.

  “Can I help you?” the pope’s secretary asked him.

  “The Holy Father is expecting me.”

  “And your name?”

  “It is Andrei, Monsignor.”

  “He has not mentioned you.”

  “He shall know me when he sees me.”

  Sometime later, Alexander walked the same route through the Vatican halls. The monsignor and several cardinals walked with him. His secretary advised him of the man he had met.

  “So where is this man?” the pope asked. “I have not the vaguest idea who he might be.”

  “I left him here, Holy Father.”

  “He sounds like another street urchin looking to exploit my better nature.”

  “I imagine so, Holy Father.”

  “It is good then that he is gone. I have more pressing business to attend to. Has Cesare returned?”

  “Not as yet, Holy Father.”

  “Send him to my rooms the moment he arrives. I need to discuss the Florentine situation with him.”

  “Very good, Holy Father.”

  “Send Piccolomini in to see me. Other than for he, I do not wish to be disturbed.”

  The monsignor bowed and kissed his hand. He opened the door for Alexander, and then summoned the cardinal. The others, he advised the pope did not want to be disturbed for the moment.

  The pope walked into his rooms. He sighed and threw off some of his robes. The Florentine situation weighed heavily on his mind. After the failure to defeat them, a truce seemed the only option. He gasped when he saw Andrei sat there. “How did you get in here?” he asked.

  “We must talk.”

  “You cannot come in here. I wish you to leave at once.”

  “I am not leaving.”

  “Then I shall have you removed. My guards would not be so kind.”

  “No, you shall not.”

  Alexander could not believe the cheek of the man. “Who are you?”

  “I am Andrei.”

  “Ah, the mysterious Andrei. Is that meant to mean something to me?”

  Andrei stood up and looked into his eyes. “It ought to.”

  The man looked vaguely familiar. He could not place him, but knew he had seen him before. “How do I know you?”

  “You oft see me in your dreams.”

  “This is nonsense. Andrei, if that is your name, I am a busy man.”

  “Then it can wait.”

  “I beg your pardon,” he said in disbelief. “It is you who can wait. That is if I decide to entertain you at all.”

  “You are as old as I,” Andrei said. “You do not have much time left.”

  “You are implying what?”

  “You have much to atone for, and so little time to do it. You shall entertain me. The destiny of your soul may depend on it.”

  “Do you know who you are talking to?”

  “You are a man, the same as I. Not as good a man, I grant you.”

  “I am the pope!”

  “You are God’s elected representative, yes, but you have abused that privilege. I offer you the chance to atone for some of what you have done.”

  “This is nonsense. I do not have to answer to you.”

  “You do right this moment.”

  The pope stopped to gaze at him. He felt threatened and more than a little unsure of his visitor. “I can have you arrested for speaking to me in that fashion.”

  “You could,” Andrei agreed. “If you do, then you shall burn for your sins.”

  Alexander could see in Andrei’s eyes that he meant it. Images from his dreams flashed through his mind. Although unclear, he did remember seeing his visitor in them. His arrogance, though, was a problem. No one had ever spoken to him like this. Now that someone had, he did not like it. “I have never met anyone with such temerity.”

  “You are but a man. Nothing you say or threaten me with shall intimidate me.”

  “Even if I were to have you executed?”

  Andrei stopped and looked him in the eye. “I have come face-to-face with the most powerful evil in the universe.”

  Alexander laughed at him. “You have seen the Devil?”

  “And defeated him. So you hold no fear for me, Rodrigo.”

  The
pope felt he was dealing with a madman. One with such delusions could prove dangerous. But everything about the demeanour of this man hinted that he spoke the truth.

  “This is no jest,” Andrei said.

  “I know. That is what scares me.”

  In that moment, Piccolomini entered the room. He eyed Andrei right away.

  Andrei saw the black aura that surrounded the cardinal. It had a much more defined outline than that of the pope. “What I have to say is for your ears only,” he said, returning his attention to Alexander. “Make him leave, or the consequences could prove dire for everyone.”

  “I cannot speak with you yet, Francesco,” the pope said to his visitor.

  “I beg your pardon, Holy Father, but we have important matters to discuss.”

  “They shall have to keep for the now.”

  “But they cannot!” the cardinal protested, raising his voice.

  “I shall speak with you later, Francesco.”

  The cardinal looked sour. “Who is this man?”

  “I am not at liberty to say.”

  “You cannot say what is more important than our business?”

  Andrei walked in a threatening fashion toward the cardinal. A powerful white glow suddenly radiated from him that both the other men could see. The cardinal stepped back, a little afraid. He found the old gypsy very intimidating.

  “It is well that you fear me,” Andrei said. “Your black aura is stinking out this room.”

  Piccolomini looked away. The glow hurt his eyes.

  “You had best leave,” Andrei advised, moving closer.

  He offered Andrei one last look, before he left. Andrei waited for the door to close. When it did, he slid the bolt across with a glance of his eyes.

  Alexander then watched one of the plush sofas drag itself across the carpet and barricade the door. “How did you do that?”

  Andrei did not answer him. “Let us begin.”

  “Very well. What is the nature of your visit here?”

  “Evil.”

  The pope looked perplexed. “You have come to me to talk of evil?”

  “The greatest evil of all.”

  “You want to talk to me of the Devil?”

  “No.”