“Why does this keep happening to me?” I muttered, raising my hand to keep everyone from doing something stupid.
Christopher didn’t move, his eyes resting squarely on Elizabeth Cambridge. “Probably because you’re the only person stupid enough to try and kill Dracula.”
“Point taken.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Seconds passed.
Elizabeth Cambridge stared at us, her gaze every bit as cold at Annabelle’s, yet she gave no order for her soldiers to fire. The leader of Black Squadron was holding her assassins back, for reasons I could only guess. I was hoping it was because the pirate was going to join us, but such good fortune rarely existed in my life.
“Let me guess, you don’t want to kill us,” I said, keeping my hands raised in the air. “Glad to hear it. I knew you’d turn around.”
“You are very wrong, Mister Hawthorne. I want to kill a great deal.” Elizabeth Cambridge kept her eyes focused on me, ignoring the others. “With the slightest movement of my hand, my new Black Squadron will avenge their lost comrades.”
Despite her words, she still hadn’t given the command to fire, and I had to capitalize on her hesitation. If there were any doubts in her mind, I needed to make use of them. “The Vampire Nation doesn’t take prisoners unless it intends to turn them. I can assure you, all of my people are ready to die before letting that happen. Christopher, certainly, knows it is a fate worse than death. Given I suspect you’d rather not spend eternity with me, you must have another reason to hold back.”
“I need answers,” Elizabeth said, determined.
Looking to my sides, I saw both Shannon and Penny were ready to fight. I shook my head. Violence wasn’t the answer right now. No matter how bad our situation was, trying to get out of it when they had us dead to rights would be suicide.
Malcolm and his pack retreated into the shadows behind us, ready to use us as shields—a tactical choice I didn’t begrudge them as long as they didn’t start shooting.
“Answers you will have,” I said, wondering what she wanted to know.
“I no longer feel Annabelle’s presence. She might be regenerating, or she might be lost to the void. Who has killed her?”
Well, crap. Answering that question wasn’t going to help our situation.
Christopher interrupted before I could. “Who has killed her is an answer you already know. Dracula is responsible for her demise. He has led us to ruin, Elizabeth. Even you, his most loyal disciple, must realize this. This attack has achieved us nothing.”
“It has killed hundreds of House warriors.” Elizabeth started to walk to us. “That alone justifies this attack.”
“This place was the product of Annabelle’s mind,” Christopher said, stretching out his arms and gesturing to the building around us. “We cannot win a war with the Committee and its allies. Annabelle designed it that way. She hasn’t been well for a very long time.”
I leaned over and whispered. “Can we avoid bringing up her role in all this? I don’t think that’s going to win her over.”
“Trust me. I know my wife’s best friend,” Christopher said, not bothering to look at me. “The truth is best.”
“Annabelle gave you everything.” Elizabeth sneered. “You should have died in New York. It would have spared the Vampire Nation much.”
“Annabelle is dead, but not by our hands,” Christopher lied. “Dracula’s people tore her apart. She was never anything more than a pawn to him. We have a method to destroy the Warlord. Help us.”
Elizabeth’s eyes became dangerous. “I will kill you first for your treason. Then I will kill your partners.”
“No, you won’t,” Christopher said, gazing into her eyes. His voice took on an authority that radiated outward like that of an ancient Roman orator. There was something hypnotic about it, calling one to listen. “You will leave us alone and take your men away. You are better than being Dracula’s pawn. You are a woman who once ruled the high seas and a devoted leader to your crew. Protect them from both Dracula and the House. Take them away from this place. That way, Annabelle’s sacrifice won’t be in vain.”
“I see.” Elizabeth Cambridge seemed confused, then shook her head. She leapt into the air as the soldiers under her command scattered to the four corners of the warehouse and disappeared. Our way was clear to Dracula’s location.
I watched them leave in stunned silence. “Wow, I can’t believe that worked. I guess words really are mightier than guns.”
“They aren’t.” Christopher said, a disgusted look on his face. “Dracula has abused, misused, and tormented his offspring for centuries. It was easy to use those emotions and Elizabeth’s love for Annabelle to assist in my mesmerizing her.”
“Wait, what?” Shannon asked, looking at Christopher.
“Awesome,” Penny said, her voice taking on a cruel edge.
“Whatever works,” Malcolm said, laughing. “I never thought I would be grateful to a Mister Fang.”
Christopher looked away. “It seems nobody possesses willpower that can’t be compromised.”
I wanted to comfort my friend, but we didn’t have time for that. “You did what you had to do. We need to get a move on.”
“I understand.”
I started walking forward to the yellow door at the end of the warehouse.
Christopher followed in step behind me. “I suppose we can take some small comfort in the fact that I never would have been able to succeed in persuading her if that wasn’t what she really wanted to do, anyway.”
Shannon looked past. “I know a lot about mind control and in the end, it’s all about breaking someone. She’s probably free for the first time in her life.”
Everyone else followed, not saying another word. The Dead Coyotes assumed their wolf forms again. I could feel Shannon do the same, gaining muscle mass and growing an inch taller than I. Even Penny began drawing mystical energy into herself from her surroundings, filling the air with a sense of power.
As for me? All I had was the Bloodsword, the blood magic and obscuromancy Mary had given me, a gun not designed to kill beings of Dracula’s power, plus a little kung fu. In a very real way, I was the weak link, yet Mary thought I had the ability to stop Dracula forever. I wondered if this was all some sort of trap, but if it was, it was a hell of a lot of effort to go to for what amounted to a schoolyard prank.
I pushed aside my doubts and focused on the task at hand. Modulating my breathing, I felt myself calm and become more focused. We reached the yellow door and I looked at it as if it might spontaneously pour forth a host of demons. Reaching to the door handle, I pushed it forward and stepped inside.
To Hell on Earth.
Dracula had converted the inside, once a simple storage area, into a throne room of the damned. On sharpened lead pipes stabbed into the concrete were fifty or sixty corpses, stabbed through the stomach and left to dribble blood to the ground. The Impaler was resting on an antique wooden throne he must have brought with him, looking bored as a trio of heads were mounted on makeshift spears behind him. I recognized two of them as prominent White Room scientists, probably individuals who’d helped run the place with Rebecca.
All of the walls in this abattoir were covered in the sort of glyphs Mary had drawn on the inside of my hotel room. The ground was covered in blood, the smell overpowering, and I saw Christopher tremble in awe of it as he walked in behind me. It wasn’t just blood having this effect, though, but the power that circled around us. Dracula hadn’t just killed these people; he’d tortured so he could harness the energy released at the moment of death. It was great power he’d used to sanctify this place as a wizard’s focus. The room was a blood magician’s chamber like no other.
Which meant we were screwed. Well, screwed-er. There was no backing down now, and we still had the small advantage that Dracula didn’t know just how much Mary had taught me. Small advantage as that was.
Dracula didn’t move, though he clearly saw us. Instead, he just gave a lazy bli
nk of his eyes as if our arrival was the most natural thing in the world. “I have danced this dance so many times in the past that it no longer amuses me. Still, you have arrived as I knew you would. I’m almost disappointed. I’d hoped you’d be smarter than to throw your lives away.”
“I had some Castlevania jokes prepared, but it’d be pretty tasteless to say them now,” I said, looking at the horror show around me. “What do you even get out of this?”
“Power,” Dracula intoned as if speaking some great insight instead of a stock supervillain answer. “Once I loved art, science, and women, but the blood is now all that matters. It gives me life and influence as well as a fleeting reminder of the joy I once took in the heat of battle.”
Shadow moved in front of me, growling at Dracula.
Dracula didn’t seem to notice, instead turning his focus on Christopher. “And you. Have you turned against me so quickly? Did you have the strength to resist my power, or did they somehow break you free? I think the latter, because you were never as strong as you thought you were.”
“I no longer fear your jests or jibes,” Christopher said, his voice low and cold. “I am free from your control. Now and forever.”
“My control was all that kept you sane. You vomited your first three drinks of blood,” Dracula said, pointing at his head. “Our race would have long since destroyed itself by suicide or starvation if not for the commands by their elders to ignore their conscience.”
“Maybe that should tell you something,” Penny said, lifting her staff as if preparing to shoot a fireball. Hell, for all I knew, she was. “We’ve come to put you down.”
Malcolm and his pack advanced, encircling Dracula’s throne. Shannon transformed fully into a lilin, a creature both beautiful and alien to look upon. I, on the other hand, tossed down my gun and removed the Bloodsword from its sheath. I didn’t raise it yet, though. Conventional weapons had proven useless against Dracula in the past, even with orihalcum ammunition. Somehow, he’d immunized himself to it.
Dracula’s lip curled into a sneer. “You have no idea how many I have slaughtered over the years seeking to claim my life. Thousands. Tens of thousands. Bands just like yours, confident in their righteousness but weak in power.”
I remained calm, keeping my breathing steady. “As I recall, quite a few succeeded. You come back from the dead. You’re immortal, not invincible.”
Dracula rose from his throne. “Then let us end this drama.”
Stretching out his hands, he drew from the power of the room’s sanctification and threw it at us. All my group fell to its knees, feeling the exact same attack he’d used on me in the jet. Penny tried to hold it back but couldn’t, her power dissipating in the overwhelming agony. It was enough to kill us all instantly, but he was going to torture us to death. The problem was, he wasn’t the only blood magician around anymore, and I absorbed the energy into myself. One moment we were all dying, and the next I felt like a Greek god.
“How the hell did you do that?” Penny shouted.
“No idea!” I lied, lifting the Bloodsword.
Bruce Lee taught it was better to move with your opponent than against him, utilizing his strength rather than fighting it. Somehow, I doubted he meant this, but feeling the blood magic flow into my body, I hurled the agony back at Dracula and sent the Warlord flying backwards across the room.
The Dead Coyotes launched themselves at Dracula while he struggled to get up. Despite their massive strength and speed, the vampire threw them around like rag dolls. Snouts, arms, and legs were broken as he fought like a madman. Conjuring a set of three-inch long claws made of bones, Dracula slashed open Malcolm’s chest and impaled Shadow in the stomach. They weren’t lethal wounds for werewolves, but the injuries tore the fight out of them.
The distraction allowed Shannon to grab him from behind as Christopher joined her, grappling with the monster. With her staff in hand, Penny unleashed a bolt of glowing white energy that struck Dracula in the chest. The Warlord hissed as his skin burst out into hideous burns all over his body.
This gave me the opening to run forward and ram the Bloodsword straight through Dracula’s black heart. Reality wasn’t like fiction, and it didn’t function as a wooden stake as on so many shows, reducing Dracula to ash. It didn’t even immobilize him. Instead, it just seemed to really tick him off.
“You are not getting away!” I shouted, trying to regain my momentum as I twisted the blade. The pain I inflicted on Dracula made me stronger, gave me a rush of joy and adrenaline that almost blinded me to the fact that I was in mortal peril.
Dracula responded by kicking me into a concrete pillar, the Bloodsword still buried in his chest. The impact of my body against the pillar shattered bones and left me coughing blood, even as I drew on the blood around me to knit my bones and repair my body.
Dracula did the same. He threw Christopher across the room with one hand and turned to fight Shannon hand to hand. Penny threw lightning, fire, ice, and more into the ancient monster, but none of it seemed to do any good. Every blow she struck, he healed within moments.
That was when the entire room started to shake.
“What the Devil?” Dracula shouted, lifting up Shannon with both hands and throwing her against the wall. Shannon’s wings proved more than ornamental, though, and she managed to slow her velocity to a crawl. Hovering in the air, flapping her wings only once every few seconds, Shannon prepared for another attack—ignoring the fact that something big was happening outside.
Pieces of the ceiling started falling down as explosions sounded above our heads.
“Oh, Count von Count.” I laughed, getting up, healed of my wounds. The blood magic was coursing through me as it was through Dracula, and I was ready to rip out his heart with my teeth. “Did I mention I told Councilman Hawthorne about your attack? He’s probably brought the entire American Navy to bomb this place to oblivion.”
“He would not harm his two eldest children,” Dracula said, drawing the Bloodsword out of his body.
“Man, you don’t know my father at all, do you?” I said, running up at him.
Dracula swung his sword to cut my head off at a speed no ordinary human could match, but I ducked under it and grabbed the weapon with my left hand. It cut deeply into my palm. As my blood was absorbed, I used it to concentrate on the magic within this place. I felt powerful, more powerful than I’d ever felt in my life, and I was willing to bet a living human being would always be stronger than a walking corpse when wielding blood magic.
Dracula grabbed me by the right side of my face and started squeezing with his free hand. Only the hardening of my muscles with magic kept me from being crushed like a grape, and only barely so. I looked at him with my left eye. Despite it not being one of my artificial eye’s functions, I could see all the various weavings of magic through the Elder vampire’s body.
I could see how the stolen ki moved through his veins to sustain his undead existence, how part of his energy went to Tiamat-Abaddon, and how dark energy from hell poured forth into Dracula from their connection.
I had him.
Knowing more about martial arts than the vampire who’d spent the past few centuries butchering rather than waging war, I broke his wrist with one movement of my hand. I turned around the Bloodsword and plunged it into his neck. Behind him, Shannon had gouged her claws into his back and with Christopher’s help, ripped out his spine.
“Go ahead, Cleaver,” Dracula said, his mouth leaking blackish blood. He let go of my face, content to die and return. “I’ll come back. I’ll kill your family, your lovers, your friends, and everyone you hold dear. I’ll start with those you brought today. It will be centuries before the misery stops.”
“Not this time.”
I covered my right hand in the shadowy energy as I continued to hold the Bloodsword by the left. It allowed me to reach into the monster’s chest and grab him by the heart. Dracula screamed as I grasped not just the withered blackish organ but his very soul. From there,
I drew all of the hellish power that sustained him into my hand. I wanted to break his connection to the Lord of the Damned and end his cursed existence forever.
The horror that filled me as I touched the spiritual and physical embodiment of evil was beyond mere words. I wasn’t a great believer in justice, good, or fairness, but I understood in that moment what their pure opposite was. All of Dracula’s crimes across five hundred years of life filled my mind, uncountable murdered innocents and slaughtered armies. He’d given me a taste of it earlier, but this was everything. Every death, mutilation, and torture he’d inflicted on a world he hated. Yet in his soul, I felt the metaphysical chains that bound him to these planes, and in my hand—I dissolved them.
The metaphysical doorway to hell, which meant he’d always be able to return after death, slammed shut. Dracula screamed, looking at me in confusion, then started choking. He looked more disoriented than anything, the events far different from any of his previous battles against mortals. Dracula’s body disintegrated into shadows, which retreated before the ceiling lights above our head.
If Dracula had anything left of his humanity, it was sent screaming back into the Cycle. God, Death, or the ghosts of his victims would keep him from resurrecting this time. Hell, eternal prison of those damned by all other gods, was no refuge. One might even say his fate was worse than damnation. I couldn’t say what lay for him instead. Oblivion? Torture? Eradication of all evil within his spirit? These were metaphysical questions I didn’t care about. All I knew for certain was he was gone and it felt good.
I was left holding nothing, my hand covered in horrific burns. I couldn’t feel anything inside it because every nerve ending had been destroyed by the terrible power I’d absorbed. Closing my eyes, I cut off the flow of ki to my hand before falling to my knees, my face contorted in agony. In the back of my mind, I felt another doorway to hell open.
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