Paublo felt a bit queasy in the belly now; he had his mother with him, and was apprehensive about how this would play out.
Tatijana waved for them to speed up, spurring her black stallion forward. The tall dark-haired woman was raised by Ivan Von Drakenfell, her only known father, yet at sixteen she had left him. Her powers came from Rothchild himself, as it now was all unfolding. Mother and son knew she would play a large role in what was about to happen.
The vampire hunter herself was thinking as they drew closer to the castle. Somehow she had to find an answer in all this; they had to talk. Everything in her knew such a ‘man’ was not stable and therefore a danger to all he came in contact with.
She might have to kill Drakko Del Rothchild. She rode even faster, desiring to reach him and find peace within.
It was safe to say that Jonathan was in utter shock. She had left again. How in God’s name could his wife be so foolish? He had drunk himself close to death that dire evening debating on what to do.
It had been so many years; this entire event was supposed to be over with, and now this.
Oscar Van Helsing was dead, Doctor Emin Stewart dead, and Alfredo his old friend, and Lucy’s would-be husband, gone as well. There was no one left to tell of this madness, no one to lean on. He had a bad feeling in his gut about it, a truly bad feeling.
He wanted to write in his journal, but instead he chucked it against the wall, and thought of following her.
Yet he poured himself another stiff drink. He was lost in confusion and anxiety.
Twenty-two Crim death dealers were chosen in the end to deal with Rothchild. The leader of this pack was named Richman. He was an average heighted man with a bald head, but carrying a thin shaved black beard from ear to ear. He also had the largest of bushy black eyebrows and one hell of a nasty demeanor. It was not so easy to find the elusive Count Rothchild, but to follow his red-headed lover of the past would hopefully reveal his secret hiding place.
It was all happening fast.
Rothchild was tired of running; he knew they were coming, all of them. He could have easily left Bran Castle years ago, but he did not. He wanted to see Gaylen again, if she was ever to return. He wanted to talk to Tatijana perhaps one more time as well now.
The Crim were on their way; this would be a problem and he knew that wherever they went Claudiva would soon follow.
This was his domain; Krons was his creation, a quasi-material plane made from his years of life and never-ending efforts. If someone stepped on such a world, he felt it and he felt it all soon coming to a crescendo. Naming the realm Krons itself was his way of staying connected to his old self.
He wouldn’t make it easy for those that sought his blood. He also guessed that Gaylen would want her ring back, thus he made sure he took good care of it, awaiting her arrival. She was close now, he knew such!
Within the confines of his castle and its outskirts, he had went about placing various guards. It was nothing new, but they were reinforced with more, and even extra locations held his spies now in the woods around his estate.
His children roamed the countryside, watching with their eyes and hearing all with their ears. He summoned zombies, ghouls, and dark shadows, such wraiths that would loom about the keep watching for those that tried to sneak in. In a nearby village he placed his watchers in taverns, shops and on the street.
This was his land. It was Krons; he the founder, he the master.
Inside his castle there were those that he had turned long ago as well; these minions would act as his special vampric guards. One was gone, he who touched Gaylen, yet others were here.
He walked by a portrait, be it a painting of his first love Estelle; she was the image of Gaylen, the bard that many years ago had visited his castle. She was beautiful, innocent, and so full of life. How could such be, he thought for the umpteenth time. How could life be so painful? The devil was messing with him; it had to be the answer. Soon she would arrive and he did not know how he felt about it. He would have to see how she was, it had been a while.
His minions came to him soon after, many reporting visitors were about.
He wanted to talk to someone, thus he went to the bowels of the dungeon seeking out Oscar Van Helsing, his torture slave.
The man was locked in his giant cage still as he now passed him a scrap of food. The old man grabbed the rat and began eating such.
The professor was somewhat mad now and when the count watched him between bites he muttered, “You have come for my counsel again. What now is eating at your hollow heart?”
The Count pulled up a chair backwards and sat before the cell. “They are coming. They are all heading this way.”
The weathered old man snickered at such words. “Are you afraid that they will steal all your treasure? It’s only a matter of time before they will finally remove your head.” Then, he growled, adding, “The world shall be rid of you, you demon, you leech, you foul monster.”
Rothchild laughed at Van Helsing’s statement. He went over to a shelf and took up a jar containing several ticks, and tossed it into the cell, letting the glass break open.
The old man yelped, knowing well they would soon be crawling on him. He tried to kill them all. But one and then another latched into his old flesh, sticking to his skin. The professor yelled in agony, yet his calls went unheard.
Rothchild certainly had a treasury here, but such wealth and devices, jewels and whatnot meant little to him now. Behind one door down here he had chests full of gold pieces - thousands upon thousands - and other chests contained jewels, and items such as weapons, armor, scrolls and potions.
All of it useless right now.
Van Helsing crawled over to the cage door begging once more to be let go. “Let me out, I will serve my master, JUST LET ME OUT!”
Rothchild was still thinking of his treasures; perhaps somebody would find the magical bag or the golden iron shackles of levitating; oh, and then there was that hat of strange trickery, Holly’s Hat of Wonder. He chuckled; the oriental fan, the talismans, rings, and even the strange Victorian mirror. He was not that fond of mirrors even still.
He then went back to hearing Van Helsing crying out. “Will you shut up?” he commanded of his prisoner. “Shut the hell up!”
Van Helsing pleaded with him. “If you set me free, I would speak the word of the legend of Drakko forever, master. I am clergy, too; I can marry you to this woman. Yes, sir, you can have the pretty blonde as your wife.”
Holding the cage now, Van Helsing shook it repeatedly, and his mind went wacky.
Drakko noticed that a large tick was crawling up his prisoner’s neck and he surprisingly opened the cage to point such out and knock it off. The prisoner fell, glad it was off him.
He held his palms together as his master stood over him. “Thank you, sir, thank you.”
The count heard noise from above; they were here already and quicker than he surmised. Someone or something had entered the castle. In a sweeping motion of his cape, he turned and went up to greet the new arrivals.
Chapter 19
The undead guards came upon the three humans, each zombie now lumbering down the hall. Tatijana stepped in front and carved the lead one in several pieces. These guardians were more to raise the alarm, as to give warning to their master. Lucky for the three, the front doors were still not fixed or locked. They entered rather easily following Gaylen’s direction earlier.
Each zombie was a pale yellow, almost green in appearance. They tried to reach out and grab the three companions, but were slow enough to fight off.
More appeared as Tatijana began hacking at them, and Paublo helped as well. Each time one fell, a bell-like sound rang from their wretched forms. The master had placed such around their necks. Gaylen had not seen these here before.
Claudiva and her two minions arrived on the rooftop moments earlier. The bottom line was that they were going to bring him back with them for a meeting and the final blood sacrifice, or they were going to take
the blood from him if need be; little did they know they had been followed.
Two of Rothchild’s prized minions stepped out as to stop them as well.
Claudiva smiled at the newbies before her and her own minions. “You know what, I never liked you two, and it will be a pleasure ending your pathetic existence.”
She then, with Sebastian and Mavark, went about getting rid of the guardians before them.
Downstairs, Tatijana, Gaylen and Paublo had fought off the wandering zombies in the hallway as they proved little to dispatch of, but the bells upon their necklines gave warning to anyone in the castle that someone had combated them; someone was now inside.
Tatijana was a whirlwind of slashing with her big sword; the yellowish-green corpses had no chance. Paublo had done well, jamming his own sword into the creatures.
Gaylen used her staff and also kicked several of the walking dead, sending them over to the huntress, who finished them off.
All in all the three companions were finally free of such watchdogs and seeking to find the count within.
Rothchild now sensed the multiple arrivals while rushing up from below into his great hall. He came through the archway, seeing a scattering of zombie body parts strewn about his marble tiled floor.
Directly after, he noticed Gaylen. She had aged like fine wine, still with beautiful long fair hair, and those blue eyes were shining like ocean water, still sparkling after so long and at the moment looking back at him.
Her body had withstood the sands of time as well. She still was firm and fit and even her face, though it showed signs of aging, such maturity did not bother him. He liked a woman with experience.
As their eyes met, Gaylen saw no aging to his looks whatsoever. He was the same. It was utterly strange. She had missed him in an odd way, yet feared him as well.
Then Tatijana’s arrowhead necklace, a detector of all things vampric, began to glow blue.
“We have company,” she announced, looking towards Rothchild. “It seems every time we have a moment to speak we have such.”
Drakko did not seem happy.
The uninvited had somehow arrived now, too. Rothchild shook his head displeased, looking at those before him.
“You should have not have come here. You have made a grave mistake.”
It was too late; from the nooks and crevices of the shadows, the Crim emerged, twenty-two of them, the dread pack, be it a hunter group bent on results. Those currently around and with the count would be the spoils of their coming.
Richmond stepped out from the study’s archway, scratching his bald head and showing a wicked grin upon his face. He then surprisingly turned and looked to the tall dark-haired woman, seeing her arrowhead lit up. He seemed puzzled.
“I am surprised to see that glowing; you see, we have made arrangements of non-detection. Perhaps others unprepared are here as well.”
He then looked to Rothchild as if he was not so well prepared. “You must take better precaution, my friend,” he added, winking over at the count. “You’re getting old in your age; there’s too many ways into this place and, well, your front door isn’t even locked.”
This clan leader, be it Richman, was no ally of his. “You are not my friend and you never have been,” responded Rothchild. “You have entered my home uninvited.”
Richman pointed out those with him surrounding the hallway and the people in it. “Yes, we have, and it looks like there’s a whole bunch of us.” He gave a fake grin after stating such. “We can spare the humans for you, that is, if you agree to come back with us. As to the huntress, she gets her limbs torn from her body either way.” Richman stuck his pierced tongue out to the woman he spoke about. “Yes, you, I fucking know your type!”
Tatijana had a big dilemma. She was ready to give it all she could, but there were so many. She gritted her now extended teeth, holding back for when the moment was right.
The vampires about sensed that she was ready to fight. They raised their taloned hands and all opened their maws wide, showing razor sharp fangs. Each knew of her kind and stepped more from the shadows, ready for an onslaught of killing.
Gaylen was certainly no fighter and yet she had her staff raised with the sharpened point before her, while her son the brave young adventurer Paublo had his sword up and ready as well.
Rothchild then asked, “How can I trust you? I do not trust you. I need to get these people away from here and if I agree to your demand, none of you shall lay a hand on her as well.” He pointed to Tatijana, awaiting Richman’s reply.
“That’s where we are at a crossroads,” said Richman. “It’s time, Drakko, to get rid of the old and bring in the new; my people, whom you continue to turn away from, are on the brink of a new world order. Let me say this; you are either in or you are out and, for that matter, you don’t tell me what to do. Manfred is my master. These people here mean nothing!”
Tatijana lost it; she pushed mother and son back and ran to the front left where in an instant she began taking on several of the vampires.
Rothchild joined her, protecting his daughter and Gaylen, tearing apart those that would try to hurt and injure them.
Paublo wanted to puke. It wasn’t the first time. What in the world was happening here? He screamed out, slashing madly with his sword. Gaylen was now behind him, trembling as the other vampires moved to get around to her and her son.
From the top of the tall stairway, Claudiva shouted, “Stop!”
Her call out did nothing to alter the crazy battle below.
It was almost futile for Paublo and his mother to fight off twenty-two of these deadly creatures of the night. It was more about a defensive effort on their part.
“Mother, stay by me at all times,” he instructed her as both of them held weapons ready to fend off any onrushing attackers. They did their best.
For Gaylen it was the sight of Count Rothchild that had her in awe. She held her staff tightly, glaring over at him. There was no doubting that he was far from human; he moved lightning quick as each vampire tried to make its way by him to get to her and Paublo. She then saw the others jump down from above and an all-out war erupted. It appeared they were allies in the fight.
The tall redhead and her minions were now right in the middle of it. They were actually helping Rothchild rip into the onrushing attackers. There were wicked growls and hissing, spitting, squirting blood and guts all about. Screeching and swearing echoed throughout the great hall. This newly arrived woman had with her two rugged men, one of giant size. With them involved, the tide turned to their side.
Yet there was no better than Count Rothchild in this fight; he was the leading spectacle.
When such a vile creature came at him, he fought like no other. He would kick, punch, and grapple anything that moved towards those behind him, thus tearing limbs from bodies, throwing others across to the opposite wall, and smashing heads as he fought on. None could overtake him easily. He moved like a cat with the highest level of dexterity Gaylen had ever seen.
Claudiva was gifted as well, although was not nearly as powerful as her creator. The others were no match for her either and it wasn’t long before their numbers were turning gaseous if not slipping back in loss to the shadows of the great hall’s exits.
One, however, shook Gaylen silly, grabbing her hair and yanking her backwards. Gaylen understood her end might be close, but he was there for her in less than a blink of an eye. He grabbed her assailant and tossed the vile female vampire to the floor; he proceeded to stomp her face in with his leather boot. Another, though, was on him as his back was turned. It ripped into his shoulder and then his neck. He grabbed it by the head and twisted its neck in a full circle, dislodging it from its lower body.
She saw that he was now wounded, yet his wounds were healing right before her yes.
The vampric attackers came in for another assault.
Though a few here and there broke through at mother and son, the rest engaged with Tatijana. It didn’t take long for her to sli
ce them down with her great sword. She also had now drawn her special slayer dagger in her other hand. The weapon had a skull for a hilt and two ruby eyes upon such as it tore into the demons all about. More came at her and more were slain. A single slice from the dagger caused attackers to immediately turn to black smoke.
Tatijana then took a hit on her left shoulder; one bit her there. Yet it did nothing to slow her. She drove her scimitar to the right, impaling yet another creature.
The hunting pack that had been dispatched to take Rothchild seemed to now retreat into the shadows of the castle more and more.
Rothchild shifted to his daughter and asked, “I don't understand why you would put yourself at risk fighting the dreaded vampire in this pack carrying a child within your belly.”
Tatijana gave him a smirk. “It’s in my blood, father.”
With their attention off Paublo, a sudden attack occurred. Out of a dark corner of the hall, a nasty specimen of a vampire drove a claw across his chest, thus opening up a deep wound. He then followed with a blow that entered the young man’s chest rather deep, and powerful enough to send him to the marble floor.
Two more came from that area as well, yet Claudiva and her men cut them off and tore them to shreds. Sebastian broke one’s back, while Mavark guillotined another.
Claudiva pointed to Paublo as if to say he was in bad shape.
With the help from the three new arrivals, many of the crimson legions of bloodsuckers were forced into gaseous form, while others retreated in the shadows, turning into mist and seeping through the cracks of the castle.
This foul skirmish was finally over.
Gaylen and Tatijana ran to Paublo to help him the best they could. Claudiva went to Rothchild, who moved to tend to Gaylen’s wounds.
Count Rothchild Page 17