by Logan Keys
The space seemed surreal, a mixture of modern and antiquity. He didn’t give her long to think about it before he had her against the wall, his lips crashing down upon hers. He tasted of need and desire and something else.
But most importantly, he tasted virile and blood-rich.
Without even tasting his blood, Mina was light-headed and almost drunk from him. She let him maneuver her to the four-poster bed that was covered in a heavy velvet spread.
Mina looked at her reflection in the oval mirror standing in his room. Her cheeks were rosy, almost looking wind-chapped. Her plump lips were almost scarlet. She hadn’t felt such drunken giddiness from a feeding since early days.
She glanced at the body lying on the bed and was almost sad that she depleted him. She wished she could have kept him and just nibbled on him occasionally.
She saw his pants laying on the floor beside the bed and looked for his wallet. She rarely cared about finding out who the human was but she was curious about this one. Finding it in his back pocket, she plucked it out and found his South Carolina driver’s license.
“Mark J. Smith,” she read aloud, “it says here you’re actually from Columbia, South Carolina, not Charleston. What else is in your wallet?”
She dropped credit cards onto his pants, as well as pictures of people and money until she came to a business card. It was simple. Black, glossy. One side was a number, not a phone number, but a series of numbers, and the other side held only a crest.
Mina dropped it and hissed like a cat. She recognized that crest. She looked at the man again, crumpled on the bed. She pulled his hair exposing his face to her, her eyes taking in every minor detail.
He didn’t look like him. The great Professor van Helsing. But it’d been quite a few years and many generations to separate them.
She left his apartment quickly. She was going to have to leave Charleston sooner than later.
—6—
Jericho was eating a bowl of oatmeal and watching the morning news when Mina burst through the front door.
“Jericho!”
“Back here, Mina. In the kitchen.”
She came into view and what Jericho saw had him standing. She was rumpled, which wasn’t unusual when she had been gone all night; what had him concerned was she had been crying, her tears having left pink trails down her cheeks.
“He’s found me, Jericho. We have to go!”
“Who’s found you?”
“Van Helsing! I don’t know how he’s figured it out, but he was here and I didn’t know it and I went home with him and we were intimate and he tasted so good and I couldn’t stop and now he’s dead, but they know I’m here. We have to go!”
She turned and hurriedly walked away. Jericho sat back down, his mind racing when the newscaster’s voice broke through his reverie.
“We’re now getting news on the story that broke last night about the forty-eight people found dead in The Crypt, a local nightclub on King Street. We’ve just been told that Police Chief Daniels is holding an impromptu press conference. We have Jill Stranham on the scene. Jill …”
“Yes, I’m standing here outside of The Crypt nightclub. This club is frequented by and caters to the subculture referred to as ‘goths.’ Last night was a typical night, the only difference was forty-eight of those people didn’t walk away. One of the patrons here last night said that”—she looked down at her paper—“it looked like everyone had just fallen asleep. As you can see now, the police chief is at the podium getting ready to make his statement.”
The camera panned to the man behind the podium. “Yes, thank you, everyone, for being here. We’re not certain what happened here last night. We’re conducting our investigation and we’re not ruling anything out. If you were here last night, please stop in any of our precincts and give your statement. If you know what happened, please contact us.” He turned and looked at a woman who just walked up to him. He placed his hands over the mic, listened to her intently, and nodded. “Sorry to cut this short, but I’m needed inside. Thank you.”
Jericho sat in stunned silence. This was Reno and Calcutta and a myriad of other cities all over again. Always, a mass of people died and the headhunters started looking for her.
He stood and marched his way up the stairs, anger coursing through his veins. When he reached her room on the third floor, he could hear her panicked packing.
“Wilhelmina!”
She stopped and looked at him, shocked. It wasn’t like Jericho to use her full first name, let alone raise his voice to her.
“You’ve done it again. After last year, after almost getting caught, I thought you’d learned your lesson.” He had his hands on his hips, his body almost vibrating with his displeasure.
“Posh, that doesn’t matter. We have to move because of the descendants of van Helsing.”
“Yes, it does matter, Mina! Forty-eight people. You drank from forty-eight people last night. Before, you’d been careless, but never like this. They were all in the same nightclub. How could you be so stupid?”
A finely shaped eyebrow arched high on her forehead. “They were of no consequence, just some humans in a club. I didn’t drain any of them, and I didn’t bite on any obvious spot, so please, quit fretting over this and let’s pack.”
“They are of consequence to someone. They are people, Mina. Have you forgotten what it was like to be a person? You can just move on your own. You apparently don’t listen. I would have figured with all the decades you’ve spent on this planet, you’d have gained some modicum of restraint. But no, you continue to be this impulsive, petulant … ”—he struggled to find a word—“child.”
“Child? Need I remind you who I am?”
“No, I know exactly what you are and I’m finished. I’m not going with you. I’m going to stay here and finish out my last few days in peace and without worry. You can move on if you like.” Jericho folded his arms over his chest as she walked closer.
He used to stand much taller than her, but the years had stooped him lower and she was so irritated that her back was ramrod straight. Now he stood mere inches taller, but he refused to kowtow to her any longer.
She held her arms stiffly to her side, her voice deceptively low. “Jericho, you are placing emphasis on the wrong death. Those humans”—she fluttered her arm out—“don’t matter. The man lying dead in his bed is a descendant of van Helsing and is a hunter himself. It’s his death that we need to be concerned with. I’m not going to have your theatrics over those sheep. Now, get a grip on yourself and do as you’re told. Pack your things.”
“No. You’ll just continue making the same stupid mistakes, Mina. Always. And I’m done with cleaning up your messes. You need to grow up sometime and stop being such an impetuous brat.”
“You forget yourself, Jericho.”
Her voice was laced with menace and warning, but he didn’t care. He was too angry and too frustrated. The events of the past few weeks bore down on him. “I haven’t forgotten who I am, that’s why I never wanted to be like you. You’re the one who’s forgotten herself.”
She was on him in an instant. Jericho had forgotten just how strong she was. He was on his knees in front of her, her hands pressing down hard on his shoulder. “I haven’t forgotten anything. I know exactly what I am and though I care for you most, you’re still nothing more than a cow.”
Jericho looked up into her face. It was no longer the beautiful, delicate Wilhelmina that he’d always known. Her face was contorted into something feral, something demonic. He felt the warm wetness spread along the leg of his trousers.
—7—
Mina, or Jacinda as she was known as now, looked around the bar. Her short, blonde hair tickled her cheeks and the nape of her neck. She found herself restless. It wasn’t the need to move on, she’d just arrived in Rio de Janeiro.
No, it was this time of year.
She took a sip of her Jack and Coke and watched the people undulating to the Brazilian dance music. These were such lust
y humans. They loved their drinks, their dancing, and their pleasures. Normally, she’d appreciate that about them, but tonight she was feeling a little melancholy.
She had taken a few companions over the years, but they might last a decade at most before she tired of them and dumped their body somewhere. She continued to watch the crowd, not even bothering to try to drink anymore.
Maybe because it had been a hundred years since his death. Maybe because she had been alone and she’d heard word that Lord Dracula wasn’t dead after all. She wasn’t sure. Her eyes snagged upon a gorgeous man. He was taller than most, his skin a deep hue, and his obsidian eyes bore straight into hers.
She felt entranced by him, her sadness all but forgotten.
She had a few run-ins with van Helsing’s descendants over the hundred years, and it was always the same. The intensity, the blood-rich headiness of them. Rarely did she not cave in. After all, they were the best meals …
LAST HOPE
Emma Brady
The blood was black against the snow as it trailed into the woods and disappeared. Hope heard a howl in the distance and shivered. The wolves were getting desperate this winter and that was making them brave. Two of them had already been seen circling the boarding house that week. If they found some prey, perhaps that would keep them away for awhile. Hope tried to hurry inside but her foot caught and she dropped the armful of wood she carried. Bending down to pick it up, she heard noises coming from around the corner. There was a gap between the main house and the guests lodging. Worried it might be an injured animal, Hope quietly poked her head around to see.
At first the only thing she could see was a man’s back. He was wearing a heavy coat and must have been over six feet tall. It was one of the men from the East who had arrived that evening. Then she saw a face appear over his shoulder. The woman who had arrived alone was looking at her, those dark eyes glinting in the darkness. The woman smiled at being caught and Hope was so embarrassed she stumbled trying to back away from the scene.
As she tried to pick up the pieces of wood from the snowy ground, Hope heard the two moving around. She had interrupted them and now they could no longer continue. The man spat in her direction as he went in to the building, but the woman lingered with her. She even handed Hope a piece that had rolled out of her reach. Hope couldn’t look the woman in the face, not when her cheeks were burning like they were.
“Did we upset you, girl?” the woman asked, her voice was soft and low.
Hope shook her head but still couldn’t bring it up.
“You shouldn’t be outside so late. There are a lot of dangerous things.” The woman didn’t sound worried though. “What’s your name?”
“Hope.” She answered.
“Your family owns this place?”
She nodded. Her parents had lived on the Virginia coast but decided to try for a better life out West. They only made it as far as the mountains of Colorado before Mama got sick. When she died, Papa decided they would stay here and opened the boarding house. He named it Last Hope and believed it was good luck for those travelers passing through.
“I’m Mrs. Dracula, but you can call me Anna.” Said the woman.
Hope doubted that was her name, but a lot of people passing through wanted to escape their past and create a new life. Names were unimportant in the wild frontier. She didn’t mind it if they chose new ones.
“The wolves are near I think.” Said Anna, her black eyes gazing into the woods.
“It’s been a harsh winter and they are running out of food. They have never attacked a guest, so don’t worry.”
“I’m not afraid of them.” Her eyes darted to the boarding house. “There are a lot worse things in the world to fear.”
The two of them went inside together and removed their coats. Anna’s cloak was fur lined and must have cost more than all the clothes Hope owned. Beneath it was an elegant riding gown in a dark green color with lots of lace trimmed in black. It didn’t show any of the usual wrinkles from riding and had hardly any dirt on it despite her arriving on horseback. She was taller than any other woman Hope had ever seen, standing almost as tall as Papa, but with a thin figure. Long black hair was braided down her back without a strand out of place, unlike Hope’s honey colored curls. No matter how hard she tried, they were always falling loose by the end of the day from the bun she put them in. Anna’s face was pale and smooth, making it hard to guess her age. Black eyes glinted in the firelight as she looked around the room, and her lips were a vibrant red from the cold.
“Sit with me.” Anna said, pointing towards the only empty table in the room, tucked into a corner far from the warmth of the fire.
Normally Hope would have said no, because there were still so many things that needed to be done but she found it difficult to deny the request. Quietly, Hope followed Anna to the table and took the seat across from her. She noticed Papa was watching from the kitchen door, and he didn’t look happy. Later he would be giving her an earful about responsibility and hard work, but he wouldn’t make a scene in front of the guests.
“How old are you?” Anna asked.
“Fifteen.” Said Hope, but she flushed when Anna raised her eyebrows. “In a few more years.”
The woman laughed. “Age is not worth lying about. Eventually we all grow older, but we never get any younger.”
Hope felt like she wanted to explain to the woman that she really just wanted to get old enough to leave this place, but her mouth felt frozen shut.
“I’m traveling west to meet my husband.” Said Anna. “He had to leave quickly, so I stayed behind in St. Louis to tidy things up. It’s always us women who have to do the cleaning when things get messy. You probably do most of the cleaning around here, right?”
Hope nodded.
“Looks like there’s another job for you over there. I won’t keep you any longer.”
Anna waved her hand in the direction of two men who had knocked a table full of ale onto the floor. Hope obediently took a towel from the pocket of her apron and went to clean it up. Looking back over her shoulder, the woman watched with a half smile on her lips. After it was done, Hope looked again, but Mrs. Dracula was disappearing up the stairs to her room.
Hope and her Papa both had rooms in the attic, sleeping above the guests to give them some privacy. It was normal to hear them moving around at night, when it’s hard for people to sleep in a strange place. Hope had gotten used to it and didn’t bother to listen, not when she knew she had to be up with dawn. That night she had trouble ignoring the sounds and laid in bed well past the middle of the night. When she realized she wasn’t going to be able to sleep, it seemed like a better idea to get up and start early on the morning chores. That might help Papa get over being angry about her visiting last night.
Hope took a single candle with her down the stairs. It was dark, but she didn’t want to bother with building a fire for just her. It was better to save the wood for when everyone would need it. The thick wool stockings under her dress did a good job keeping her warm, along with her heavy coat. All she needed was a little light so she could see what she was doing. She started preparing things for breakfast. She would need to go out to the barn to get the eggs from the chickens.
Outside the cold air stung at her lungs, but Hope kept taking deep breathes until it started to fade. Wearing her Papa’s boots, Hope walked through the snow with her head down, her feet following the familiar path they knew so well. That is, until she stumbled upon something half buried in the snow. At first she saw the blood, streaked across the white and thought it was an injured animal but then she pulled back her hood and saw it was a full grown man. A scream escaped her mouth, once, twice, until she lost count. She just stood there screaming until the whole house came out.
“He must have been attacked on his way to the outhouse.” Said Papa, coming up behind her with a lantern, casting light on the gruesome sight.
Hope had to turn away as she felt herself gag from the sight of him. Blood was cas
t across the snow in all directions and the man’s eyes had been wide open in fear. It was the same man who had spit on her, laying there twisted and broken. That expression was one she would never be able to wipe from her memory. When she couldn’t shake the disgust from coming up her throat, Hope ran back into the house and slammed the door behind her, leaving the men outside to deal with the mess.
“Are you frightened?” Hope looked up, finding Anna was standing in the stairwell with her nightgown and wrapper on.
“Yes. The wolves have killed one of the men.”
“One that you were attached to?”
Hope shook her head. “I hardly knew the man. He was that friend of yours.”
“I have no friends.” Anna’s voice was flat. “Then why does it bother you so much?”
“A man is dead. That should bother anyone.”
“Of course.”
Hope looked up but could only see the edges of Anna’s gown disappearing up the stairs. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep after such a sight, but clearly some people could. Her father and the other men cleaned up the body but they were all shaken by the incident. They all spent the day inside the main room, playing cards or making conversation about the travel, but they were all on edge. You could see it in the sharp look of their eyes, they were all watching to see if someone else disappeared. The only one who wasn’t bothered by it was Mrs. Dracula. She spent the day in her room, only requesting a light meal and a bath in the evening. For a woman traveling alone, she didn’t show any signs of distress about the danger around her. When Hope came to bring in her dinner, Anna invited her to sit for a moment while she finished her toiletries.
“How long do you think before the pass will open?” Anna asked her, while Hope found a seat on the bed and looked at her reflection in the vanity mirror. The angle made it hard to see Mrs. Dracula’s face in it as well.
“A day or two most likely. Are you wanting to leave because of what happened?” Hope didn’t think Mrs. Dracula was frightened, but now she was anxious to leave.
