“Tessy, a little slower please.” He was a big man with such a handsome face that he almost always made the ladies stare, and was dressed in an ink black suit with matching black tie, with a glowing red sheriff’s badge attached above his heart. The badge was electronic, and pressing it would display to authorities all pertinent information about him, including the impressive fact that he had been trained by the master himself. It was also a video recorder.
All the messages originating from the computer appeared to be from First Avenue, as did several calls from the police. It was clear that someone had been killed. Evil vampires needed to be stopped and turned to dust, but there was only so much that a single sheriff could accomplish. As of late it was difficult to get a day off from the nightly carnage. Vampires had been getting out of hand for several years, and still there was no sign of Dracula. It was as if the Master had abandoned his children.
The dog, as gorgeous as she was intimidating, barked a high-piercing bark. It was her FEED ME bark. She was a mix of two breeds, German shepherd and Siberian husky; she took her beautiful coloration from both, though she looked to have more shepherd in her and appeared fierce. Tessy had been turned by the master, and in fact no other vampire seemed capable of turning animals, although he claimed it to be possible for all biters to accomplish. That was one of a myriad of secrets that Dracula wouldn’t reveal.
“All right, I’ll give you some food and then we gotta go. Duty calls.”
Alexander pulled the bowl out of the wall and placed it on the cupboard by the sink. He opened the fridge and removed two bags of O positive blood and poured one into the silver dog dish and he drank the other. It was so refreshing that it was like a human dying of thirst finding a large bottle of Aquafina water in the Mojave Desert. There was nothing like the taste of blood to a vampire.
Tessy stopped and stared out into the night, with her ears obviously listening to something. The sheriff placed one hand on his gun and the other onto his ancient samurai sword. He looked at the dog’s face and at the movement of her ears and knew something was up. The door was kicked in and off its hinges. A crazed biter by the name of Frank Cole was celebrating his two hundredth birthday, and since he tortured the sheriff’s location out of an off-duty police officer, he had decided to celebrate it by eliminating one of Dracula’s personal assistants. And Alexander was one of six legendary sheriffs at that.
Frank drove the sheriff across the room with a kick, and was on the sheriff instantly, attacking with a piece of sharpened maple, and then he was on the sheriff. But Alexander held both wrists stopping him from plunging the wood into his heart, when a vicious growl made him turn his head. Frank was appalled and immediately frightened as the dog showed her vampire teeth. He had heard of vampire dogs but had never actually seen one. Up until this time he thought the dogs were probably mythical beings, but seeing one in the flesh was something else. The assailant was just about to flee and had started to do so when Tessy blurred and grabbed Frank by the throat, biting through his carotid artery, the dog wouldn’t stop until his head came off. His evilness turned to dust in her mouth and Tessy made faces as she spit out the unwanted grit. Frank’s skeletal remains hit the polished floor.
“Tessy, good girl.”
Alexander blurred onto the crime scene so fast that it made the officer near the minivan go for his gun until he noticed the badge. Some of the police were taking care of traffic as two detectives in suits also arrived on the scene. Officer Miller recognised Alexander immediately and so it wasn’t necessary to verify that he was indeed a red sheriff. They had had one episode of a phony sheriff that had caused several officers to lose their lives.
“Miller, how long ago?” Alexander told Tessy to sit and she did so. The dog also sniffed the air as she waited.
“Less than an hour,” said Miller. “Those bastards give me the creeps. What are my chances of actually killing one with one of these wooden tipped bullets? I feel like a mouse waiting for a hawk to show up.”
Alexander snapped his fingers and pointed to the area around the minivan where he could see tracks in the blood. “Tessy go!” The German shepherd immediately started to sniff the area. “Oh, those bullets will kill a vamp, problem is that we’re almost as fast as a bullet, so if you hesitate you die. And it has to be a shot to the heart.”
Another officer entered the scene with attitude, below average in height with a husky build and salt and pepper hair. Detective Braden Carter looked at Alexander with disgust. Braden hated all vampires. “Miller, what the hell is THAT doing here?”
“He’s sanctioned by the government and you know it. You’d be happy to have him here if a bad one showed up right now.”
Carter placed himself directly in front of the sheriff and looked up at him. “Do you know how easy it would be for me to kill you?”
“You couldn’t kill your grandmother little man.”
The dog growled and briefly showed her fangs but then went right back to sniffing. The shepherd sensed the detective’s animosity but she knew his fear would prevent him from acting on it. She barked four high-pitched barks, indicating that she had the scent and was ready to pursue. The dog blurred fifty feet across the street and waited for her master to follow in pursuit; she could sense the criminal getting further away from the crime scene.
“Vampire, what will you do if you catch the son-of-a-bitch?” Having lost too many family members to them including his lovely wife Rebecca, Carter wasn’t likely to ever lose his hatred of vampires.
“He’ll be killed on sight, and my badge will record and upload it to the server. His image will be processed and run against other unsolved crimes so that they can be closed.”
Carter hesitated but decided to ask. “Can you take me with you so that I can observe the kill? It’s a government sanctioned request that I received some time ago. The more we observe firsthand the more we can learn.”
The sheriff looked at the detective and smiled. “I can but it’s a scary run for a human, and I can’t promise that you’ll be safe.”
“Let’s roll!” Carter pretended that he wasn’t frightened of what was to come, but even the dog could detect his apprehension from across the street. Tessy squatted and urinated to show her disdain, but nobody noticed except for the sheriff.
Alexander placed both his hands under the detective’s armpits, lifted him up as a father would his child and blurred with him into the night. The speed and the proximity of seemingly imminent collisions with buildings and cars that never occurred was enough to take the detective’s breath away. They abruptly halted in areas that Lance Walker had stopped to do reconnaissance for his future crimes, where he left a larger accumulation of his stink behind, especially in one area where Carter had vomited the remnants of his pizza with the works that he had for dinner into a green garbage can. Unless the detective was driving a vehicle he was prone to car sickness, and all those rapid movements had been too much for him.
The dog blurred with another burst of speed and the sheriff followed close behind carrying the nauseous detective; he had a feeling that the sheriff wasn’t going to let him forget the events that were transpiring anytime soon. Carter thought it best to curtail his prejudicial ways, at least in front of the sheriff. The night was young enough and the detective’s survival was uncertain. A human in pursuit of a vampire was tricky business.
Tessy stopped at the entrance of a dark alley and looked back at Alexander; it was the dog’s signal that she had spotted something in the darkness. It was a biter sleeping on the ground like a vagabond. The dog could smell the blood on his herringbone patterned tweed shirt. It was in fact Lance having gorged himself to such a degree that he was taking a nap. The overindulgence had made him sleepy. Alexander signalled for Carter to be quiet as he approached the slumbering silhouette. Biters usually awoke at the slightest noise.
Lance curled up in a fetal position faced away from them. Abruptly his eyes flicked open. The sheriff pressed his badge to start the recording as he pu
lled his ornate samurai sword from its black scabbard, gripping the handle with skill. The serial killer jumped up, and went for his dachomies, knives that were specifically fabricated to kill vamps. The blade was in three parts, razor sharp stainless steel on both ends with South American Snakewood in the center, and capable of killing a vampire as it entered the heart.
Lance jumped twenty feet into the air, ending up against the side of the building, launching multiple knives. The sheriff dodged two but the detective caught one in the shoulder and went down. The German shepherd pounced and grabbed onto Lance’s left leg. Alexander jumped and attempted to slice his head off, missing; he instead cut his sternum open which healed almost instantly. The dog releasing his leg placed itself at the end of the alley to block his exit; he would have to battle the sheriff where his escape was inaccessible. He also knew that he would be at a disadvantage with the German shepherd on one side and Alexander on the other.
“I’m hurt bad!” Carter shouted.
“Don’t remove the knife it’ll be over soon.”
That had been enough of a distraction for Lance two hurl more knives, and Alexander dodged them as well, though just barely, with one ending up in Carter’s left leg. He simply couldn’t believe his luck. “I’m dying here! I need an ambulance!”
“An ambulance won’t approach until this guy is dust.”
The sheriff moved forward with the sword at the ready, and Lance took small steps backward. Alexander thought about demanding his surrender but they never did acquiesce. The killer permitted the whites of his eyes to glow bright red. The dog showed its fangs and let go with a growl so fierce that the criminal didn’t dare take another step. He slowly pulled his sword and considered whether to turn and attack the dog, but while he decided he didn’t dare take his attention away from the red sheriff. Tessy jumped for the back of his neck, and when he attempted to block it, the sheriff decapitated him and his epidermis turned to dust. His skeleton clinked as it fell to the pavement.
“We need an ambulance at this location.” The sheriff looked around and wasn’t quite sure of the location. “Use tracking and hurry, we have an officer down.”
CHAPTER TWO
DRACULA WALKED THROUGH the cemetery with a forlorn heart. It was around five and the temperature was cool for the time of year, just above sixty degrees Fahrenheit. Even up here in New Brunswick, Canada, it was usually warmer in July. His black Armani suit and tie gave him the appearance of a businessman, and his stylish haircut reaffirmed that notion. But nothing could be further from reality. He roamed aimlessly through the graveyard, and envied each and every one of the dead. Dracula neither appreciated the peacefulness of it all, nor the greenery of summer. He had had such an extended life that he was weary of it. Living to a hundred was one thing, but being so ancient was becoming unbearable. It had been so long since he had enjoyed a day to its fullest. He felt like a flower that had withered but couldn’t die.
Dracula crossed his powerful arms and observed three black capped chickadees in flight; they sung their familiar song and one actually stopped to rest on his shoulder. The bird didn’t surprise him as he had called to it in his mind. He knew the birds usually lived to be less than two years of age, but occasionally endured to be twice that. He thought that if he knew he would be dead in that period of time that it would be most satisfactory; he could be happy in that knowledge and simply endure until then. The bird departed his shoulder and the other two followed close behind.
Dracula watched a burial in the distance; he started to move and then stopped and stared into himself, transported back in time to a happier day when he had enjoyed the company of another vampire named Margaret. They had taken a ride through the streets of New York in a landau horse drawn carriage and he remembered the sound of the hooves clopping along, and her classic face. She had been so pretty and with such a kind disposition. He so liked to bathe in her presence. They had passed by Broadway at 42 Street, and he recalled that Lyceum had a production of The Moth and the Flame on that 1880 day. Or was the year 1898? The years had a way of blending into one another. It annoyed him that the exact year failed him. A week after that joyous ride she had been killed by two biters that he had later tracked down and tortured, but that was the end of that reverie.
He lay down on a trail between the tombstones and gazed up at the puffy white clouds. Vampires not being able to tolerate the sun were a myth, although they did prefer to do their dirty work at night. A large raven flew over and ignored him. He could hear the traffic on Elmwood Drive but couldn’t see it. Dracula was wealthy beyond imagining, and yet it meant little to him. Any enjoyment that life had held in the past had dissipated as so much smoke. The workings of such an ancient mind were extremely complex. Depression had grabbed him and simply refused to let go. Perhaps his brain was so ancient that it was perishing, but of that he couldn’t be sure.
“Are you okay mister? You were trying to go to sleep?” The four-year-old boy stared down at him. Kevin had momentarily escaped his family as they were placing flowers on his grandmother’s grave. The boy thought it a peculiar place to take a nap.
“Fine, unfortunately.”
“What cha doing?”
“Going crazy.”
“What cha doing that for?”
“Something to do.”
“Tell me if you see a ghost. I’ll be over there.”
“I’ll send the ghost over to get you if I see one.”
Kevin ran as fast as his little legs would take him to inform his parents that the cemetery did indeed have ghosts, and that they should hurry and get out of there before one got all of them. He jumped around but his parents ignored the child.
That was how Dracula spent the anniversary day of the passing of his dear friend, Hubert Walter; Archbishop of Canterbury had died on July 13 in the year 1205. July 13, 2011 was simply another day for tedious recollection. Had he a pill that would make him sleep for a century, he would gladly consume it. The walks that he had taken with the Archbishop and had so thoroughly enjoyed were now painful. How was it that pleasant memories could be so unpleasant?
Dracula closed his eyes and when he opened them night had fallen. Hours had raced by as if it had been mere seconds. It seemed that the only time that was worth anything was unconscious time. The distinctive sound of two cats fighting somewhere in the distance brought a smile to his face. He assumed that they were battling over a mate and that the fur was flying. At least nature was somewhat interesting. As he sat up the cats ran through the graveyard, with one in pursuit of the other. Both cats were white and one had been bloodied. The female would go to the victor, unless she had departed the area not wanting to put up with more of their foolishness.
CHAPTER THREE
THE FOREST SEEMED MAGICAL as large snowflakes drifted down through the trees and landed on the leaves that covered the forest floor. Cool enough to snow but not cold. Dozens of chickadees sang their songs as they flitted from tree to tree. The orange, red and bright yellow colors of the leaves were soon concealed under the blanket of white. In no time an inch of bright snow had covered the forest path that winded near the gurgling water in the brook. An unseen bonfire could be heard crackling somewhere in the distance, with the smoke finding its way to her nose. Was there something or someone sinister attached to that bonfire? A tree branch cracked and then another.
Was there also something putrid on the air? A dead animal perhaps?
“They’re coming,” the trees whispered into the light breeze.
Someone in the distance cursed.
Twelve-year-old Jenny walked on the path with the snow lightly crunching under her green and gray Reebok sneakers. She had a black winter coat with faux fur around the hood. Jenny had a Japanese sword in hand and was aware that she was being followed, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t seem to find her way home. It was as if the section of path that led home had somehow vanished. Suddenly, the atmosphere turned cold and she could see her warm breath advancing in the air. It
was as if an arctic system was upon her. A headless white-tailed deer seemed to look in her direction as it crossed the forest trail, stopping briefly before continuing on its way. Less than a minute later a tall bearded man carrying the head of the animal also crossed the path, apparently in pursuit of the deer.
Jenny was more puzzled than frightened as she proceeded. The snowflakes were unusually large, at least two inches wide. One perfectly formed six-sided snowflake landed on the back of her right hand and she studied it. A single drop of dark red blood landed near the center of the snowflake, saturating it completely and turning it red; she looked up but couldn’t detect the source of the blood.
“I said caw!” A crow landed beside her on the trail and observed until the blond girl was out of sight.
Jenny’s swung her katana and it cut through the air audibly. She had power, precision and talent. She jumped fifteen feet into the air and cut a branch off the tree, and then cut the branch in two before it hit the ground. Another branch cracked somewhere to her left, a little closer this time. Nobody was visible in the area but a sense of dread had come over her. Amongst the trees to her left a red fox appeared against the white snow. She stopped and stared at the animal as it gazed at her. It pawed at the snow and then shook its head as if in warning.
“Hello,” she said to the fox but it turned and ran off.
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