Mrs. Dracula: Vampire Anthology

by Logan Keys

  “Barnaby,” Mother calls out from behind me. “Where are you going? Don’t go out there.”

  I ignore her, compelled to know what’s on the other side. A hypnotic voice assaults my senses. The Lady from the Castle comes into view and her army is with her.

  At first, I can’t make sense of what’s in front of me. A woman is on her hands and knees crying. Head down, her hair hangs over her face and her pitiful fingers clutch at the Lady’s legs.

  My father stands back and apart from the devils. At least he’s alive. “Please, let her go.” His hands are out in supplication. “There’s been a dreadful mistake, but we can rectify it. We have what you want and we can exchange it.”

  The crying woman turns her face up and I flinch. She’s thinner than I remember and more rough around the edges. The last time I saw her she gave me tea and crumpets.

  I cry out and draw all heads toward me. Aunt Lucinda stares straight at me. I’ve never seen such misery on a person’s face.

  “Get inside the gate, Barnaby,” Father yells. “It’s hallowed ground. They can’t enter there.”

  “Stay,” the Lady’s eyes hold mine. Even in this light, there’s a red tinge to them. “See what comes to people who cross me.”

  Struggling, Aunt Lucinda is hauled to her feet. She cries and begs, but the Lady smiles. Claws descend from the Lady’s hand and she wraps her hands around Lucinda’s neck.

  “Wait,” I scream. “I have what you want. I took it by accident. I didn’t know it was important. I can get it for you.”

  The Lady pauses and tilts her head to the side. She’s listening. I can reach her.

  I put my hands out, just like Father and step forward. “I’m telling the truth. I promise.”

  “Mmmm.” The Lady wrinkles her nose. “I believe you are.”

  The Lady clamps her hands together and rips Aunt Lucinda’s head off with a sickening crunch. Aunt Lucinda’s head falls to the ground with a thud and puff into the snow.

  Aunt Lucinda’s body is still upright and then it pitches forward, crumpling in the snow. Her blood fountains out in jets and colors the white. The beasts move forward, some lap at the blood on the ground and others dive onto her body.

  —6—

  I step back as Aunt Lucinda’s blood pools toward me. I clap my hands over my ears, but it’s too late – all of it. I’ve heard the ripping and tearing of flesh.

  And the sucking of my Aunt’s still warm blood… My stomach heaves and I spill its contents onto the ground. Retching until there’s nothing left to give.

  “Barnaby.” Mother sticks her head out the gate and her eyes fall on Aunt Lucinda. “You devils.”

  Pointing her stick, Mother slaps the air with it. Two of the beasts tearing into Aunt Lucinda’s body sizzle and disintegrate. Some of the others move toward Mother, but she stops them in her tracks when she levels her weapon at the Lady.

  The Lady licks the blood from her claws and then jumps into the air. She twists and lands on her feet by Father. Grabbing him by the arm, she shakes him until I fear his head will roll off.

  “Take your hands off him,” Mother warns. “So help me, I’ll obliterate you. It’s what I wanted to do in the first place.”

  I cringe at the Lady’s laugh. “Obliterate me? I think you over estimate your abilities. We had a deal,” she enunciates, “and you double crossed me.” She points at me. “He told me you have what I want. Give it to me and I’ll let you live. Don’t and I’ll kill you all, but I’ll save you for last, Melinda.”

  Mother stands poised and erect. She doesn’t flinch and her eyes don’t waiver. I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder to be her son.

  “I’ll get you the book,” I offer, “I know where it is, but you have to promise to let us go. I don’t want any dirty double crosses. It’s just a simple exchange. Our lives for the book.”

  The Lady tilts her head and smiles. It sends chills up my spine. There’s no doubt she’s beautiful, but she’s also terrifying.

  “Done,” she says and nods her head. She doesn’t let go of Father. “Bring me the book and I’ll let you live.”

  “We don’t want to be monsters either,” Mother snaps. “Or prisoners. We want to be just how we are now and free to go.”

  “You’re tiresome, Melinda.” The Lady stamps her foot on the ground and snow flies up. She squeezes my father’s arm until he lets out a grunt of pain. “Very well. You have a deal.”

  “Stay here,” I mutter at Mother. “I’ll get the book. You keep your stick pointed at them.”

  She favors me with a smile as I limp off. The monks are waiting in the courtyard. A middle-aged man makes his way toward me.

  “I’m Father Guardi.” He puts out his hand and we shake. “You can’t trust them. No matter what they say, lying is part of their nature.”

  “We don’t have a lot of choice.” I wipe a sleeve across my eyes. I drop my voice to a whisper. “They can’t read the book though. Mother made sure of that.”

  Dragging the book out of the suitcase, I squeeze it in my gloved hands. I send a prayer that this gamble works. We’ve already lost Aunt Lucinda and I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to my parents.

  The walk back out the gate takes forever and no time at all. Nothing’s changed. The devils are still there and Aunt Lucinda remains in pieces on the ground.

  My mother remains with her stick out and the Lady has her arm clamped around my father. His eyes are on me, but he’s miming, ‘no’. I limp toward her with the book outstretched, so she can see we’re keeping our end of the deal.

  The Lady laughs and then throws my father. He lands with a sickening thud on the gravel. I wince as his head and limbs bounce from the impact.

  “August,” Mother screams. “There was no need for that.” She points her stick at the Lady, but the woman leaps in front of me.

  Up close, she’s perfect - prettier than Pattie Boyd or Jean Shrimpton. It’s hard to believe she’s centuries old. She doesn’t look much older than me.

  “Here.” I offer the book to her with shaking hands. “Take it.”

  “I will.” The Lady snatches the book out of my hand. It sizzles, white light sparking over her hands until she drops it on the ground. She laughs and shakes her hands out in the air. “Spells, Melinda? I should’ve known. Pick it up,” she demands of me, “now.”

  I want to resist. Tell her to stick it up her jumper, but my body has a will of its own. Leaning over, I ignore my protesting back and grab it.

  “Good boy.” The Lady grabs a fistful of my jacket. “Hold onto that, will you? We don’t want to lose it.”

  We leave the ground in a rush and hurtle through the air. The wind rushes into my lungs pushing the air out. I catch a glimpse of my mother who’s fallen to her knees with her wand outstretched.

  A sting hits me in my side. The pain reverberates through my body, an electrical current pulses on my nerve endings until it reaches my brain. I grunt and struggle against it, but the world goes black.

  —7—

  I rouse to a blues song about souls on fire and the sound of a party. Cracking one eye open, I realize I’m back in the castle, but my how things have changed. We’re in the great hall, light from lanterns and candles accentuate things I’d rather not see.

  Vampires are everywhere and there are people in different states of undress. One woman sits on a settee opposite me. She’s half naked with her skirt pulled up and staring blankly as four vampires feast on her.

  Two are at her arms, one at her neck, and another is sucking on her thigh. They’re draining the life out of her in front of me one vampire at a time. I swallow the sob in my throat.

  Other people stagger in the room and are passed from one vampire to the next. I can see the feet of someone behind the settee. They’re not moving; discarded like old bones that dogs have finished gnawing on.

  I squeeze my eyes back shut. I’m going to die here. Every human being is.

  I wish I were a witch or a hero. I’d zap and
burn this place down. Instead, I’m just a stupid, cowardly boy pretending to be asleep.

  “Open your eyes,” the Lady demands. “I know you’re awake. You’ve been asleep long enough. I thought your mother had killed you.”

  I do as I’m told, but slowly and wish I hadn’t. A body is impaled on the wall. Head hanging down on his chest, his blood drips in a steady patter onto the floor.

  The Lady stands with a glass in her hand. It doesn’t take a genius to work out what the dark red liquid in it is. Two male vampires stand with her.

  One has orange eyes with shaggy brown hair and tight trousers. His white arms and chest is bare. As if he’s proud to be so unseemly.

  The other is more regal. His eyes are golden and his hair is long and black. He’s wearing a formal suit, but nothing can disguise the cruelty in his face.

  “Let me eat it.” Shaggy points at me and begs. He sounds like a Cockney. “I like ones like that – young and sweet. The others are too old. It’s like gnawing on leather.”

  “Grosso.” Suit extends a hand and squeezes my leg. “Porco Americano.”

  I jerk away from his touch and jab myself in the bottom. I drag the book out from underneath me. Who knew an old book could hurt so much?

  The others laugh at my expense. Anger begins to burn inside. I’m as dangerous as an ant to these creatures, but I don’t care.

  “Did you just call me a fat American pig? Shows how stupid you are. I’m not even American and I’m not fat. You’re just skinny, perverted, fang mouths with tight trousers. Sod off, you ferret faces and leave me alone.”

  Silence descends. They’re going to kill me, hang me from chandeliers or use me as a buffet. My stomach makes a hideous noise, worse than anything the pipes in this old place have ever made.

  The Lady throws her head back and laughs. “Slade, Dewis, stop it. We need him. No one else here can read the book. They can’t even touch it, courtesy of his mother.”

  Crouching down in front of me, she takes a slow sip of her drink. The liquid coats her lips before her tongue snakes out and wipes it off. She stares at me with her red eyes, intense and disconcerting.

  “You are going to read the book to me and tell me where to find our sire. As your mistress, I command you. I compel you.”

  I inch backwards. “No.” I shake my head. “I won’t. I can’t even read Latin.”

  Mrs. Dracula blinks. The others hiss and their fangs descend. Shock registers on her face and then recognition.

  “Your mother really is the most talented witch I’ve ever met. I should’ve taken her instead of that dishrag, Lucinda. If I had, this would’ve all been over.”

  “What’s going on?” Slade-shaggy asks. “Why isn’t he doing what you tell him to?”

  “His mother’s spelled him.” The Lady stands up and stares down her nose at me. “He can’t be compelled. I thought she was attacking me and missed hitting him by mistake. It seems I was wrong. Melinda knew what she was doing.”

  Pride beats in my chest. My mother, the fiercest witch. Hope begins to build.

  They’ll be coming. Mother wouldn’t have spelled me if she thought I was going to be murdered on the spot. She would’ve laid siege until either they all died or she did.

  Dewis-Suit hisses a rapid-fire load of Italian at me. It’s so fast, I can only understand every fifth word. He sneers, baring his teeth.

  “Non capisco.” I shake my head. “Non parli Italiano.”

  Dewis’ golden eyes darken and burn. His hands unfurl and long claws sprout. He moves toward me, but the Lady blocks him.

  “Enough,” she orders. “Do you want to live? Do you want your parents to live? I bet you’d like all this to be over and go home.”

  Home. The word conjures images of our Edwardian Manor on the banks of the River Cherwell. Roasting chestnuts by the fire in winter and picnics in the summer.

  The ache for it brings cowardly tears to my eyes. I blink them away and sniff. “Yes,” I admit. “I do. I thought that’s what would happen when we gave you the book. You promised to let us go, but you lied.”

  The Lady sneers. “I didn’t lie. We just weren’t specific on time.”

  She has me there. “I can’t read Latin,” I fudge. “Not one word. I’d have no idea what it says.”

  Slade snorts and clamps a hand around the Lady’s arm. “He’s useless. Just let me eat him.”

  The Lady shrugs him off. “Can you read and write?”

  How offensive. “Of course, I can,” I snap. “I’m not a complete imbecile.”

  “Good.” The Lady smiles and bares her large teeth. “You’re going to copy it down, letter by letter, and” she points at Suit, “he can read Latin.”

  Damn it. I am a complete imbecile. “It’s going to take me hours,” I protest. “Maybe even days.”

  Suit grabs me by the arm and throws me off the couch. I land with a crunch on my hands and knees. He points at the book and I take it.

  “Then best you get started.” The Lady’s eyes bore in. They drag me to the kitchen and thrust me into a seat at the table. “If you fail me in this, I will kill you, all of you. I’ll do it myself.”

  Alone in the kitchen with one lantern for company, my shoulders slump. Aunt Lucinda, Mother and Father, the people in the next room being butchered like cattle. I can’t do this; I can’t give them what they want even though I know my life will be forfeit.

  —8—

  “Wake up, you fat, useless git.” Slade’s voice drags me from sleep. “Is this all you got?”

  I ease my aching head up from the table. Slade holds my translation in his hand. It’s half a page of an account on Mongolian goat herders, but he’s not to know that.

  The house is quiet, eerily so. Something’s changed while I’ve been asleep. There are gray streaks in the sky and it’s not so dark any more.

  Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I shrug. “I told you I’m not very good and I’m really tired. I’ve been doing my best.”

  “I think you’re extracting the Michael.” Slade sneers. “Our mistress has been kind to you, but I think you might need some incentive.”

  He and I are alone in the kitchen. I’d prefer Pompous Suit to this Cockney ruffian. “Where is everyone?” I try to slow my heart rate, but I can hear it thudding in my ears. “I want to see Mrs. Dracula.”

  Slade laughs and it’s chilling. “Is that what you call her?” He licks his lips. “She’s… occupied.”

  The hunger in his orange eyes makes the hair on the back of my neck stand. “I need to see her. It’s important.”

  “I don’t think so.” Slade opens his mouth and his fangs descend. “I want a taste of you, just a nip.”

  I try to stand, but my legs slide on the tiles and I clank back into my seat. “Keep away from me.” My voice shakes and I hate he can hear my fear. “You heard what the Lady said. I’m the only one here who can touch this book.”

  “I don’t care about the bleeding book,” Slade hisses. “That old bastard can stay buried for all I care.” He steps toward me. “Do you know what my favorite part of a human is? The innards.” He raises clawed hands. “I can just slide in with these and with a fatso like you, it’s like going through butter, and just as tasty.”

  My insides clench together. I throw myself sideways, but Slade catches me. “It won’t hurt,” he breathes, “well, not much.”

  His hand clamps around my throat and he throws me one handed onto the table. I yelp as my body crashes into my back brace. Dots appear in front of my vision, little white lights telling me I’m doomed.

  “You’re a heavy thing, aren’t you?” Slade chuckles. “What you got under there?”

  His claws rip my jacket open. I’m defenseless, about to be filleted like a fish. I kick at him, but it’s like hitting stone and it shoots pain up my spine.

  “Hold still,” Slade grunts. “I’m not going to kill you. I just want a taste. That’s all.”

  I twist as his hands slide underneath my jumper. He slams me b
ack down and pulls my shirt out of my trousers. Pressing on my back brace, he frowns. “What is this? It feels like some kind of cage.”

  “Let go,” I squeal. “You sick pervert. Get off me.”

  “I’m trying to be nice.” Slade rolls his eyes. “But if you want it rough, we can do that.”

  I flinch. This thing is going to eat my innards and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. Closing my eyes, I send a prayer to anyone who will listen.

  Slade’s hands scrape across my brace and he rears back, screaming. He holds his hand out and the flesh is melting off it. “You little bastard,” he howls. “Silver? I’m going to kill you.”

  Sitting up, I scramble off the table. My back brace is protection. My father made me a weapon.

  The lessons I learned from the book filter in. Silver, fire, and wood are weapons against vampires. So is sunlight.

  Slade barrels toward me and then dives. I stretch my arms out and wrap them around him. We land on a heap in the kitchen tiles.

  He screams as his bare skin touches my brace. I take shallow breaths as the smell of burning flesh assaults my nostrils. I hold on until Slade wrenches free from my aching arms.

  Slade glares at me from the corner. He’s a damaged patchwork of bloody open wounds. For the first time since we met, I see something in his orange eyes I never expected to see. Fear.

  “Serves you right.” I take my shirt off and expose the full brace to him. “I hope it hurts, you bastard.”

  “You little prick,” Slade screeches. “I will kill you. I. Will. Kill. You.”

  Picking up the book and the lantern, I ignore him and limp into the Great Hall. Slade follows hissing insults at me, but he keeps his distance. I’m bruised and battered, but take satisfaction that I can scare a hungry vampire.

  The hall is empty, even the bodies are gone, but red patches remain on the floor. It’s lighter in the room now; the sun is rising. I keep to the edges where sunlight is beginning to stream in through the windows.

  My heart begins to thud. I can make it. If I cross the hall, there’s only the reception room between nightmares and freedom.