Jenny looked down at the dog. “What’s so special about that bookshelf?”
“Bark, bark, bark!” The dog was now overly excited as it ran in circles.
She pulled a couple of books and then put them back in. Jenny looked down at the dog and watched as it ran its head into the bookshelf. Then she noticed a slight glow from behind it. When she moved the bookshelf it fell over; she observed a large board painted black, the smell of the fresh paint was quite strong. The paint, when touched, melted off into a puddle on the floor. There it was, the way out! Without hesitation she stepped into it and returned to her body on the ground.
“You poke me one more time and it’ll be your last poke.” Jenny stood up dusting herself off, and from the look on his face he was surprised.
The old wizard was astonished; he took a step backwards and fell onto his ass. “That was most impressive little girl.” With that he blurred around to the other side of the house and out of sight.
Jenny followed him only to discover that he was gone. She couldn’t even sense him anymore. Wizards were tricky buggers, but she smiled as she was talking about herself. Then she heard him laughing from the inside of the cottage. “You son-of-a-? Are you in there?”
“Oh, I am, I am. You need to get in here but you can’t. Therefor Ipso facto I win. ”
“I’ll facto you when I get in there.” Jenny was furious but how on earth did he get in there?
More laughter originated from inside.
“Oh shut up!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
THE NIGHT WAS DARKER THAN IT HAD EVER BEEN. There was no moon, no stars, and no lights anywhere to throw even the least bit of illumination. A person with claustrophobia would have died an awful death, frightening the soul out of them. No way to judge time or space. It was as if the sun was nonexistent. There was absolutely no way to tell where he was. It appeared to be total darkness. Could have been standing inches from a sword and wouldn’t have known it. The consequences of a single step forward could not be discerned. He tried but couldn’t see the hand in front of his face.
Vampires were known for seeing perfectly well in the darkness, yet he could see nothing. Had he gone blind? There were no sounds of wildlife, no sounds of a ticking clock. Silence was never complete and yet this seemed to be. He couldn’t even be sure if he was inside or out. Because he wasn’t bumping into anything he thought that he was probably outside, but the silence was deafening. He swallowed and took at least a little comfort in the fact that he could hear it. Steven bent down and felt the ground beneath him; it felt like dirt and some sort of bug crawled on his hand, he quickly shook it off. He stood up and didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t run to get out of whatever area he was in, he could barely take a step or two.
The scent of Clive Christian No. 1 cologne was on the air. There was a masculine scent with a touch of floral. It was nice but of course it meant that someone was there. Since he couldn’t see he attempted to listen but couldn’t hear a thing; he couldn’t hear his own footsteps as he took two forward. Steven slowly pulled his sword and swung it harder than he had ever swung, but it connected with no one. Someone or something was breathing to his left and he swung again but he knew that he hadn’t made contact. Steven wasn’t claustrophobic but now appeared to be. Not being able to judge space was exasperating, and with an enemy nearby it was scary as hell. Any second a blade could slice through his neck and he wouldn’t see or hear it coming.
There had never been a gloomier atmosphere. Someone whispered his name from behind and then from in front of him. Was it two against one? Or was someone blurring around him? A long silence ensued until finally someone screamed at him; he almost jumped out of his pants as the scream broke through the silence.
“Who are you?”
The vampire was as helpless as he had ever been. He remembered the lighter in his left breast pocket. He pulled it and tried to light it. Steven dropped it and swore as he bent down to retrieve it, but it had hit his foot and bounced. He felt around and found a spider and squashed it. Then something cockroach-like ran up his arm and he shook it off. After a minute or two he gave up. Someone out of the darkness touched his face and he instinctively tried to punch whoever it was but it didn’t work, he lost his balance and fell.
“I’m gonna cut your head off!”
Steven could smell blood. He moved forward trying to orient on it he found himself falling off a three hundred foot cliff. He broke every bone in his body and two in his head. The pain was excruciating as he healed.
“No daggers down here,” said Dracula as he laughed.
Steven awoke with a start as he sat up in his bed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
DRACULA AND PIERS ANTHONY sat on the front porch in old fashioned rocking chairs that the Master had had custom-built from burl, very expensive and beautiful. The vampire king had a thing for rocking chairs, an inside joke of sorts. He first saw one in 1728. More than a dozen animals were carved into its shiny surface, including bats. The stars were in their place in the sky as Piers and Dracula slowly rocked back and forth. A shooting star lit up the heavens. Piers was happy to be able to say that he was Dracula’s friend, not many could make that statement. It was a pleasant night for remembering old times, and with Dracula the times were ancient.
“Dracula, tell me about Hithroma? Is it able to kill you or not? Be honest.”
The Master slowly turned his head toward the author. “Hithroma is a fallacy that I fabricated with a wizard friend of mine. He made it and started the rumor. We pretended it was created with such powerful magic that it could kill me. See, when you’re at the top of the ladder many want to knock you off of it. I’ve had many challenges over the years. I guess that’s just the nature of things.”
“I’ll bet that dagger has been pursued by many?”
“Obtaining the unobtainable is very satisfying, even the pursuit of such an endeavor. Many have lost their lives over it. Probably hundreds and over the centuries its story has changed. Now it is said that it will not only kill me but the killer will usurp my power. Funny how a story will take on a life of its own, even a lie will morph into a bigger one in no time.”
Piers nodded. “So the dagger does nothing?”
“It’ll slice a good piece of turkey. The stones are genuine and quite valuable. It had to look good. Many smart vampires believe in it, and there’s a legion of sorts out there to protect it as far as I can tell, because if I perish every vampire perishes, or so the story goes. Until I kick the bucket there’s no way to know for sure.”
“What’s your gut feeling on that one?”
“Unfortunately I think it just might be factual but I really don’t know.”
Piers considered it and he thought that it did make sense to a degree. There were so many truths to being a vampire he couldn’t tell what was what. “I found this site on the Internet that said to ask a vampire about ice. Do you know what they were getting at?”
Dracula smiled at that one. “Indeed, a vampire can’t run on ice. Our legs move much too fast. There’s nothing funnier than a vampire attempting to blur on ice. I can tell you that from experience. There’s a tree in Quebec with the imprint of my face in it.”
Silence covered the porch as they enjoyed the air. The traffic was light on both the Mill Road and Martin Street. A young couple passed on the sidewalk giving them both a nod and a glance. Dracula made the male dance awkwardly until he got to the end of the sidewalk, with the female wondering what the hell he was doing. At times the Master’s sense of humor wasn’t all that refined.
“Dracula, are you going to tell me about the Mona Lisa or must I go to my grave without knowing.”
He thought that Piers had a definite talent for being a pest. “Oh I suppose. If you promise not to tell anyone. I’ll most likely find out if you do.”
“I shall never spill those beans. What would you do if I did tell?”
“Probably nothing. I’ve become fond of you, like a mutt taken in o
ff the street.”
“Like a stray cat with fleas?”
“Exactly.”
More time passed with no words exchanged as Piers waited for the revelation of why the Mona Lisa had that smile. He wondered if he was going to say something simple like someone was trying to make her laugh as she posed. Time passed with no response from Dracula, and of course he knew that the author was becoming impatient. Piers stared and stared at Dracula and it made them both smile.
Dracula cleared his throat. “Are you sure you want to know? Once something is known it can’t be unknown.”
“On occasion the mystery appears to be nobler than the truth.”
“Yes, well, with that I will tell you that she had gas. Apparently she had had some cabbage and it’s a bit of a pained smile though not exactly as it looked when she was posing. Not exactly a wonderful fact is it.”
“I see.” In a way Piers now wished that he hadn’t told him about Leonardo da Vinci’s famous painting as it was a lot more interesting as a mystery. But the ants were out of the hill and no way to put them back in. “How are you enjoying your life with Allison? Your mood certainly appears elevated.”
Dracula had become a little more animated. “You know Piers, I never thought that I’d have even a flicker of light shine upon me but I am enjoying this family thing immensely. Jenny is such an exceptional girl. Don’t tell her but I believe that her power might actually rival mine. Extraordinary magic in those bones. Those fiery eyes make me smile inside. I wish I could give her a hug but that will come in time. Maybe in a century or two.”
“It makes my heart glad to see you in such a good mood.”
Again silence came out of the night and encircled them for several minutes. Dracula had long ago learned to appreciate silence as a healing entity. Quiet reflection could do wonders for the mind.
“Don’t think that I don’t appreciate all your efforts Piers because I do.”
Those words were certainly unexpected. The quietness returned for several more minutes until some fool went down the street burning his tires. The Master caught the license plate and would later flatten all four tires.
Piers sensed something and when he looked at Dracula he now looked troubled.
“A penny for your thoughts.”
“Piers, a Blood Book is a magical thing with a life of its own. It bonds to a wizard and shows the powerful enchantments. I have one of the earliest ones and it can accomplish many things. A section of it shows the future, it has even predicted the emergence of Jenny as a force to be reckoned with, it shows her to be a big part of the picture that will unfold.”
“Does that make you nervous for her?”
“The book shows the emergence of two evil wizards that will be more dangerous than the vampires. I’m afraid that the scale will tip towards evil and remain there, for that to happen they might have to kill my daughter. She needs to increase her knowledge but I can’t push her or she will rebel. I can’t be everywhere.”
Piers Anthony shook his head. “That is problematic.”
“I should have stepped up a century ago. Time draws near. There’s something in the air, literally.”
“There goes my good mood.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
LAUREN WAS DEAD. Her bones lay inside the coffin and her essence inside the hourglass.
The red sheriff imagined her demise as the hourglass approached a minutes worth of sand. Lauren had stressed her brain attempting to find a solution before it was too late. She opened and closed her gray blue eyes several times. It was strange only have about a minute to live and actually knowing it. The grains of sand mocked her as they continued to count down the remaining moments of her life. Whoever was responsible was obviously going to get away with it. She wouldn’t even see the wizard’s face before the end unless he showed up within the next minute or so. There was no way to know who had killed her, and that really pissed her off. What kind of a wizard, coward, son-of-a-bitch to destroy her life and then swoop in and become even more powerful by using the energy that Dracula had bestowed upon her.
The desire to get up and smash that hourglass to pieces was palpable; she visualized it perfectly but all she could accomplish was to move her foot. It was such an awful feeling. Would the end hurt? It might not be instantaneous. A thump from outside was the horse continuing to be frisky. If only the animal would get close enough.
“Come closer boy, girl or whatever you are! Damn it! Come on, come on, come on.”
Lauren could hear the animal doing something out there, with its hooves thumping the ground. There was a huge crash that startled her; she thought the end had come. But no, the horse had thrown the tire through the window, which lay on the bottom of the left brown curtain, creating a much larger opening so that she could plainly observe the white Arabian. She commanded it to enter, and as it crashed through what remained of the window it made a hell of a racket. It reared and snorted. The horse turned and with its two rear hoofs took the command that she had so desperately wanted to give, kicking the coffin and sending Lauren hurdling against the wall over the sofa. She flew as a ragdoll might with no control whatsoever. Lauren ended up behind the sofa and as she stood up, she realized the binding spell had been broken. She had instructed the horse to kick her with all its might to give her the best chance possible to escape. She blurred and stomped the hourglass to pieces just as the sand was about to run out. A small tornado of sparkled energy remained for several seconds and then disappeared.
She actually kissed the horse. “You big beautiful thing.”
The red sheriff guided the horse out through the door as it shook some of the glass out of its mane. She examined the animal and it appeared to be okay, just a small cut on its right leg. In the front yard she took a moment to gather herself before leaving. Lauren returned within hours with five other red sheriffs and a skinny wizard by the name of Oblivion, only to discover to her dismay that the place had been mirrored. Tiny particles of broken mirror were everywhere on the ranch, far too many to clear up, which allowed the wizard responsible to keep an eye on the place from afar. It was likely that he would never return and be caught, or would return only when the place saw no activity for months. If the wizard was smart though he would never return because she would definitely keep an eye on the place. The body of the owner and the rest his family were located in the back near a small garden.
Lauren stared at the horse as it ran with the tire and realized that she wouldn’t be standing there without him. It was a day that she would never forget. Finally it was time to find Michael.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
KEITH MADE HIS WAY BACK to the house on the dead end street where the cop resided and waited. He was now desperate to drink some blood, some cop blood as he believed that it tasted better than most. Additionally, he wanted to read about himself in the papers, how it would make him feel so important; to see the story and know that he was the perpetrator was most satisfying. A little like being a star. It was too bad that they didn’t actually show the bodies like they used to years ago because he would have enjoyed it even more. One could never get too much blood and gore.
The Sport wagon remained in the driveway; he knew they were all home. Keith could hear the rhythmic contractions of their hearts, thump thump, thump thump. Keith took the air in and he could smell body odour, sweat and something else; someone had let one go. Oh, it was a nasty one. That was the risk of drawing such a large amount of odor into the olfactory system. A neighbor’s car approached and so he backed up further into the woods so as to not be observed. The vampire’s heart beat once and it actually startled him as it was so infrequent. Blood was pushed through his system and gave him a warm feeling.
What Keith wanted to know was had the elements of bad luck passed? His brown eyes darted from side to side making him look as if his planet wasn’t in the proper orbit. The area was scanned for any signs of bad omens, over and over. He saw nothing except a black retriever that was running loose but if a black
cat was bad luck then why not a black dog? Why not a black squirrel for that matter? He didn’t think there were any black squirrels but with his luck. Things would be okay as long as that dog didn’t approach him. Keith bent down by a tree so that the dog wouldn’t notice him but it had the opposite effect as it ran right up to him and licked his face several times. Why didn’t it sense his bad intentions? Dogs were usually good at those things. Perhaps the dog was stupid? Did it make any difference if it was a stupid black dog?
Dracula: Hearts of Fire (Dracula Heart's) Page 10