The Shadow Box: Paranormal Suspense and Dark Fantasy Thriller Novels

by Travis Luedke

  The abbot felt his courage return, for when the vampire gazed down at him, he held up a crucifix to ward off his adversary. “Get thee hence, foul demon!” he commanded.

  His voice showed conviction he did not know he had. He rose to his feet and held the crucifix up higher.

  The Maglaks looked at each other, waiting for one of them to make a decision. In the end, they sheathed their swords and ran into the chapel.

  Dracula returned to the ground to face his new enemy. He glared at the abbot who stood firm, the crucifix shaking in his hands. It seemed he might drop it at any time. As the clouds moved in the skies above them, the light of the moon shone against the cold metal. The glare stung Dracula in both eyes, forcing him to shield them with a hand.

  He hissed at the abbot in anger, a long stream of obscenities flowing from his mouth. The crucifix unnerved him and he needed to break the resolve of the little man to force the icon from his hand. It proved to be an object of real power when the one holding it had some measure of faith.

  Stepping back a few paces, his eyes remained trained on the abbot, as those of a hawk waiting to swoop on its prey. Dracula saw his action encouraged the holy man to come forward. He sensed the new-found courage in the heart of his rival, though the underlying fear of him remained.

  The two emotions together clouded the abbot’s logic and he pressed on. He felt sure he had Dracula on the retreat. When a large gap opened between them, he broke into a run and gave chase.

  Dracula stooped down and picked up a large rock, grinning as he hurled it at the oncoming man. It struck the abbot on the right foot, with real force, and crushed every tiny bone below the ankle. The abbot cried out in agony and fell down, the metal cross dropping from his grasp.

  In the blink of an eye, Dracula struck. He grabbed the abbot and dragged him away from the cursed object. The holy icon remained on the ground, no longer of any use to its owner and no longer posing a threat to him.

  “Do you still feel brave, holy man?” Dracula taunted him. “Is your sweet Jesus going to save you?”

  “Get away, you foul beast,” the abbot half shouted and half pled.

  “I think not,” Dracula said, a wide grin etched across his face. “Not before you lie dead on the ground.”

  “In the name of Jesus Christ! Get thee from here!”

  The words seemed to stun the vampire. He released his grip on the abbot and took a few steps back. A brief lull followed, though the abbot groaned at the pain in his foot. Dracula ignored him for a moment and looked about the area. It occurred to him that Jesus might actually intervene to save this man. He knew that because Lucifer existed, then Jesus the Saviour existed too. When the Son of God did not appear, Dracula grabbed hold of the abbot once more.

  “I would say he is not coming to your rescue, holy man. Perhaps he does not even exist. But I do, abbot. I exist, and I am the truth!”

  The abbot cried out when Dracula pressed both palms against his temples. He felt the vampire’s cold breath against his neck, and fear gripped him inside. Is this to be the end?

  “Worry not, holy man, I do not want your blood. It is your life that I want. Your precious Jesus can have your soul.”

  Dracula increased the pressure. He heard the crunch of bone as he crushed the abbot’s skull like an egg. Brain tissue spilled as a mashed pulp between his fingers. It tempted him to eat, but he knew that he could not.

  Through his conversion, he knew certain things. The same way a newborn baby uses its instinct to find the nipple, his told him of his limitations. These had passed to him through the transfusion of Lucifer’s blood. That blood was the essence of all he had become. It gave him immortality and abilities few men could comprehend. The drinking of Lucifer’s blood also brought with it knowledge of many things, both of the underworld and of who and what he now was. In the same way, he could read much from a man’s mind, but he did not possess real knowledge from a mortal until he had drunk their blood. It gave him that, as well as their inner strength and their soul.

  He could not feed from the dead, unless it was his kill. Once the soul had left the body, the flesh soured and the blood turned to poison. The pope had blessed the abbot upon giving him his Holy Orders. Alive or dead, Dracula could not consume any part of him. He could touch no man or woman blessed by the pope’s hand. If he had drunk from the abbot, he would have endured a slow and agonising death. Consecrated blood would be like acid in his veins and would rot him from the inside out. For his protection, it often carried an unpleasant smell.

  Dracula looked off into the distance when he heard the cries of thousands. It urged him to leave the island and glide over the surface of the lake toward the source of these sounds. The bodies of his people remained there, trapped beneath the new thin blanket of ice that had formed.

  The sounds drew him to the battlefield. He stopped in the same place where the Turks had ambushed and wounded him just hours before. The bodies of the dead lay where they had fallen. He trod through them, careful not to touch them with his feet.

  All around, the souls of the dead rose from their broken corpses. Dracula gasped at the sheer spectacle of it. He watched them rise up in the order they had perished. Their images replicated their human form, though they were transparent and he could see the surrounding landscape through them. The souls hung in the air above each corpse, and there they waited. Soon, others would come and claim them.

  Then they came; the White Ones and the Black Ones. There were no secrets when you were dead, and he knew they were the soul collectors from Heaven and Hell. A few of the Black Ones came close, but did not look at him. He held no interest for them.

  He stayed for a time to watch. Those claimed by the Guardians of Hell screamed in desperation. They were aware now of the nightmare that awaited them.

  By coming early, Lucifer had spared Dracula this torment. He would not feel the agony of the Black Ones ripping at his flesh with their claws. Nor would he gaze into the fiery Abyss before they dragged him down. It sent a shiver through him to think about it, and he felt glad of the reprieve.

  One of the Guardians of Heaven drew close, which Dracula stepped aside from to avoid. It was here to claim the soul of Ivan Olescu. He observed the absolute joy on the face of his old friend. The stresses of life and the pain of death had all left him now. It was a feeling Dracula knew he would never experience. The White One took Olescu by the hand and rose up towards the heavens. The vampire watched their ascent for a time before his attention returned to the scene on the ground around him. One by one, the souls departed the field with the messengers of either persuasion, leaving their broken bodies behind for the scavengers that gorged themselves on the rich pickings.

  Dracula did not find it a pleasant scene and he knew he had no business here. A whole new world awaited him, one where he would have to find his way, alone. As he contemplated that, a brilliant white light shot down from the heavens to the very spot where the abbot lay.

  The light was so strong that it scrambled Dracula’s senses. He put his hands over his eyes to shield them, but lost his footing and fell down onto his hands and knees. The light generated a heat so intense that it singed his hair and scorched his skin. Fear gripped him at the events unfolding around him. This was no longer a place for him, and he knew he had to get far away.

  The Black Ones that still lingered on the battlefield finished their work and dragged their victims down into the portholes they had emerged through. These closed behind them, leaving no trace that they were ever there. The White Ones remained, holding the hands of those they had come to claim for God. They all turned to the great light before dropping to their knees and bowing their heads.

  Dracula scrambled away on all fours, unable to muster the strength to stand. Yet the further he moved from the light, the stronger his limbs became. Even with his back to the light he was aware of others arriving there close to the abbot’s body. The initial fear he felt suddenly turned to terror, the same as in the moment his first wife prepar
ed to jump to her death from his castle fortress in the Carpathians fourteen years before.

  As he finally rose to his feet again, he turned his head to look at the light. Its power forced him to still use his hands to shield his eyes. Despite this, he saw a gathering of beings, not human, that dwarfed him in size. Their vast white wings rose up high above their heads. His eyes fell on their mighty arms and then to the swords, longer than him in length, that hung from sheaths strapped to their white togas.

  The presence of the Archangels could mean only one thing. Christ himself was coming to the field. Only a short time ago, Dracula felt as though he ruled the earth. Marvelling in his new abilities, and his supernatural strength, he viewed those around him as insects he could crush under foot. Now, that bravado was all but gone, and he felt weak and insignificant. Though his need to get away was strong, he could not combat the desire to see Christ in the flesh. He lingered there for that reason, although he continued to inch backwards and away from the light.

  The Archangels knew he was there, but paid him no heed. Their sole purpose was to guard the soul of the abbot should any of the dark forces try to intervene with his crossing over. He had shown immense courage in the face of great evil, and had died in the defence of his faith. For that, he would enjoy the greatest reward. And now, the abbot’s soul levitated above his corpse, the agony of his death but a memory.

  Dracula stopped when he noticed a gap appear in the light. And then he saw him. For a moment, he gazed in awe at the image of the bearded man standing there. He became conscious suddenly of his naked state, and of the beast he had become. When Christ turned to look at him, his fears consumed him once more.

  Christ spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “Get thee gone, Demon.”

  Dracula turned away and disappeared into the night, his heart thumping in his chest. When he had gone, Christ took the abbot by both hands.

  The Son of God smiled at the little man, filling him with an overwhelming feeling of joy. “Come, Brother,” he said. “Our Father awaits you.”

  Chapter 5

  FRANCE. THE STREETS OF MARSEILLE.

  LATE MAY, 1481.

  Dracula left Wallachia after the night at Snagov and travelled across much of Europe. By day, he slept in carefully sought out hiding places. At night, he hunted.

  He felt exhilarated by the thrill of the kill. No other feeling he had known in his mortal life compared to it. There were times, though, when he was just as happy to observe the world around him.

  His new life as a vampire had its perks. It allowed him to mix with royalty in the places he visited. He never let them know his true identity. And after leaving his homeland, he lost his long moustache. He only had to will it for it to disappear, or reappear again. But he knew it a wise move to change how he looked. In these circles, he knew someone could recognise him from a portrait, and he did not want that.

  He fascinated every one of the royals he met and engaged in conversation. They liked him for his knowledge, his wit, and his charm. He never failed to dazzle, though his appearances after sunset did raise the occasional query, which he explained saying he had an aversion to sunlight. His claim to be a noble from the east always gained him access to their courts. They liked that he could speak their language. That in itself hinted to them that he came from noble stock. Since his change, he could speak any tongue of his choosing. Man could hold no secrets from him, and it was one of the things he liked the most about his new life.

  Most of all, it was a time of searching. He needed to understand what it was he had become. More than that, he had to know his new powers and develop them.

  He learned that the more he fed, the stronger he became. There were times when his thirst knew no bounds. Then he would feed as many as four or five times in a night. His preference was for the blood of a female. It had a sweeter taste, and he had a real craving for it, especially in the early days. The taking of a woman also added a sexual edge, which he found invigorating.

  An early discovery he made was that the blood of a virgin, of either sex, was the most potent of all. Its richness lay in its purity, and the taste remained on his palate long after he had fed. This blood gave him that same rare buzz that alcohol gave to a mortal.

  When he died, his body expelled all it did not need to exist as a vampire. Many of its fluids and major organs it had discarded. Only the brain; lungs; heart; kidneys; bladder; and testes remained. The brain still controlled every function in the body.

  The lungs remained to breathe in oxygen and move the blood faster through his veins. He did not need to breathe the air to survive. The vast network of arteries, veins, and capillaries he had also retained. The metamorphosis after his death had seen him grow many new ones. An artery now extended from the roots of each of his fangs to carry the fresh blood to his heart. A new network of capillaries existed too, to channel off all the excess water in the blood he consumed. Some of it he retained in his own blood, but the bulk went to the kidneys and then the bladder so his body could discard it. Chemical changes caused by this process made his urine quite acidic. To accommodate this, his urethral lining changed in texture and became five times thicker and stronger than before. Changes also occurred in his saliva glands in the event he might consume any organs from his victims. The saliva dissolved any bodily tissue that he ate so that it became a fluid that could pass directly into his vast network of veins. This was necessary as his alimentary canal no longer existed in parts, and what remained of it was redundant. The change in his saliva also made his bite lethal, even if he did not kill his victim right away. Not only did it contain enzymes capable of dissolving human organs, but it also contained the elements of Lucifer’s blood that would prove toxic to humans.

  The rest was of no use to him as a vampire and discarded at death. He no longer required food or drink. Blood was the only essential. That, and the oxygen to pump it through his veins. His body and his powers, when used, took up much of that resource. To replenish it, he needed only to feed again from the living. And for this, Lucifer bestowed him with fangs. They could grow to a length of more than three inches when fully extended. He kept them hidden always, unless ready to feed.

  Lucifer had allowed him to retain his sexual organs so that he could still function in that way. He deliberately created the association between drinking blood and sexual arousal to encourage Dracula to feed. The pleasures of the flesh Dracula enjoyed much more now in his new form. Indeed, he found his needs had increased since the end of his mortal life, just as Lucifer had wanted it. After feeding, his urge to have sex always grew stronger. It restored the fluids inside his testes, and fresh blood always left him erect. For that reason, when he did liaise with the opposite sex it was most often straight after a kill. That supplied him with both the appetite and the means.

  He needed only to find a partner able to accommodate his size when filled with the blood of a kill. This had not always proved easy, as he had to feed to be able to function in that way. Without that fresh supply of blood in his veins, he was impotent. Because of this, he tended to engage sexually with those he fed on, and he often fulfilled both needs at the same time.

  Dracula recalled one occasion a year ago with Charlotte of Savoy. Charlotte was the Queen of France and, in her mid-thirties, she remained a beautiful woman. She had endured a lot of heartache, losing five of the eight children she gave her husband. Despite this, her husband, Louis XI, had neglected her for much of their marriage.

  When she found Dracula she was only too keen to bed him. Her eight pregnancies, and births, enabled her to have a physical relationship with him, where many women would have struggled. They met in secret and had an affair that lasted a year. He lavished her with the attention and deep physical gratification that she never got from her husband, the king. She did not care about the amount of corpses that piled up in the region; those he had fed on before going to her. Their affair ended only when he bit her in the throes of passion. A bite would cause a fatal infection, even in those
he did not feed from.

  He fled her bedchamber and never returned. It took him a god while to come to terms with what he had done, and he cursed himself for it. Sometime later, he learned that she had recovered after a short illness. The news baffled him as no one had ever survived a bite. Still, he was fond of her and pleased to know that she was well.

  Dracula travelled again for a time. He returned first to his homeland. Only there did he ever rest really well. When he was abroad his sleep was always troubled. His blood felt cold and it required him to feed even more.

  He returned to France in the spring. French women seemed more passionate than those in any other country. For that reason, he liked to return whenever he could and indulge his needs. His new life often left him feeling lonely and isolated. After a short time in Paris, he moved south. He preferred it in and around Marseille. Here, the streets and the docklands bustled with life, and the air felt warmer in the nights.

  From the rooftops, he scanned the streets below. He watched the people milling about, living out their mundane lives. In the distance, he heard the sound of fighting in the docks. A host of new vessels had moored there, which often brought trouble. The sailors and merchant seamen got into many a brawl.

  Dracula liked it there. The docks heaved with people, even at night. He always found rich pickings in that area. The narrow web of streets nearby gave him the same. Whores crowded around on the corners of these. They offered themselves to each new batch of sailors that entered the busy port. He had his eye on one of them now. After his first kill of the night, he planned to spend some time with her.

  Taking his eyes from there, he looked beyond the docks to the dark waters of the Mediterranean. He thought of Lucy for a time. It was always in moments like this that she would come to him. He knew now that she had been Lucifer all along. Still, he missed those times with her. Lucifer was the prince of many faces after all. That was the one he liked the most.