Mrs. Dracula: Vampire Anthology

by Logan Keys

  “What?” he said, fuming. “What’s holding us back? Your daughter, she is right there, isn’t she? Beyond that wall?”

  “Yes,” I almost cried when I confirmed the tantalizing truth. Just beyond my reach. “None of us can touch that wall. The soil of hanged men… We cannot cross such a barrier.” Ancient knowledge only got me so far. Warriors only brought me so far into the treacherous warren of tunnels. Now, I could do nothing more except retreat.

  Peggy was lost.

  Tristan looked at me, really looked. And for the second time in less than a day, I swear he saw right into my grieving heart.

  “It’s alright, lass,” he drawled, more like a pirate than a man. “I think I have this one covered.” With that, he picked up the dead man’s bones. Hoisting a femur in one hand, Tristan pounded at the wall at a frightful pace, smashing the mud and bones into dust and pebbles.

  In the middle of his fury, a light shone beyond the desecration: Peggy.

  Wider he made the hole, breaking through the horrible wall of abeyance, past the martyred dead, and the cursed souls. In the middle of the perversion, he shoved the poisoned earth out of the way, enlarging the hole until even a human could tumble through.

  I didn’t wait.

  When it was big enough for a small bat, I leaned forward. Kissing him lightly on the cheek, I whispered, “Thank you, Tristan. Thank you.” With one glamour of smoke, my bat sped through the last trap and straight into Peggy’s waiting arms.

  “You came!” she cried, her voice melodic and rich with feeling.

  “I knew you would come, I knew it. Can we leave now, Mama?” she asked me, her eyes brighter than the moon. The magic of her power, the force of song lit her from within. Unlike pure sunlight, Peggy didn’t burn with destruction. Her face lit like the moon with beams of healing and magic that would never end.

  As long as the hunters don’t kill this body. As long as the vampires don’t hurt this form, there is still a chance to save us all.

  Peggy is our chance. My chance.

  I smoked into the form she knew, there in her arms. We embraced as she sang a song from before the beginning of the world. Something of the elements of creation flowed in the ancient words only she remembered. That goodness washed over my cracked stone heart.

  “Come,” I whispered, “We have to get out of here, before the hunters find out what you are. They will never understand. They will take your power for their own, in their shortsightedness and fear. Take my hand.” I reassured her.

  Tristan made the hole in the abomination of a barricade big enough for her to pass through.

  She stepped out of her prison just as my army began to fall.

  I used my body to block the first flurry of silver daggers and darts that flew around the room. My cloak was more than just the wings of a bat form, it was also tear-resistant kevlar. Everyone has their own defenses.

  Like shattered icicles, useless silver daggers fell around my feet.

  Swirling, my cloak sheltered my daughter from harm.

  Meanwhile, my overmatched army spun to meet the attack against simple weapons. But they fought with their backs up against the cursed soil of corpses. They did not touch the dissolving dirt, but there was almost no room to move.

  My thin smile showed the nonchalant bastard hunters the length of my fangs. I could even appreciate their cleverness. The trap had been finely laid. The next few minutes held only destruction for my vampires. Barely a sliver of a chance to fight our way back out of the warren.

  Less than a smidge, really.

  Tristan turned, amazed at the hatred of the followers of Mars Alator.

  “You’ve made a mistake,” he yelled. “We’ve only come to free the girl!” His protest was absorbed into the muddy earth. No one listened to the cries of a dead man, nor believed his words.

  But hunters knew: vampires don’t talk. Humans do. So, his challenge gave them pause.

  Enough time for me to make a plan.

  “The girl stays,” a disembodied voice commanded, coming from several forked tunnels. “Of her own free will, she stays or goes. You realize,” his voice rolled off the walls like slime coating. “It’s a known fact—only old vampires can talk. So there’s that. You cannot be allowed to go free. Obviously.” Several voices snickered, accompanied by the sounds of blades being unsheathed. “Unfortunately for you leech, you will never leave here, alive or dead.”

  Tristan swore.

  His remaining students gathered around us.

  Less than twenty remained of the original thirty-two. Regret I should not have felt grew in my mind, slowing my primal instincts.

  Around the corner, three black leather and camo-clad hunters appeared. Gleeful, gloating even, they emerged, sure of their victory. In their capable hands, strapped to their backs, along their belts and bandoliers, hung hundreds of silver weapons. And that was just what those that were plainly visible.

  I didn’t wait for them to speak.

  I wasn’t there to banter with fools.

  Instead of listening to their stupidity, I pulled loose ten bead-like spheres from the inside of my cloak and threw the c4-encased explosives straight up. When they hit the carved-out walls and ceiling, eight crab-like legs extended from the underbelly, instantly digging into earth and stone. And then they clamped down, securing their location. Red lights blinked from all across the room.

  Only I knew the set of the timer.

  All three hunters jumped back, startled. In war, the unexpected was always a bad thing.

  “I am that fear you hold closest,” I whispered from the shadows. “The fall that will swallow you in the end. The darkness that will claim your life, after all that you have fought and won. I am that loss.”

  Newborn vampires knew bloodthirst, not reason. These men had only fought dumb beasts. Things change.

  “Afraid I haven’t introduced myself,” I purred, while running my fingertips slowly over Tristan’s shoulder. He didn’t move, didn’t look at me. His concern focused on saving the ten remaining students whose loyalty even now glowed steady and true from their red eyes. I claimed these men and women as my own, for my purposes. But even now, Tristan held their hearts.

  They obeyed me. But Tristan? Those ten newborn vampires trusted him. They would spend their last breath to save his. They were… what was the word? Family.

  They were family.

  And Peggy was mine. The last child of vampires… The final hope of healing after so much all out war.

  “She has to live,” I whispered to him, “That’s all that matters. You save her, even if I fall. Get Peggy free of this, dust to dust. Promise me?”

  Tristan didn’t look at me. He nodded solemnly, making no promise but that one gesture. We watched the three uncertain hunters.

  With the eyes of warriors, we measured each other.

  I knew the odds were steep. Between us, I still counted another fifty of the veterans, maybe more.

  And the bombs on the ceiling set to collapse the earth over the living and the dead. Vampires don’t need to breathe. And claws are great for digging.

  “Out and out war will kill us all. We will not beg,” I snarled at the stupefied humans. “We will however be leaving now, with the girl.” Full of disdain, I looked at them—stupid, frail, exasperating mortals. So capable of violence, so slow to love - everything wrong and yet, the exact thing that made humans so strong.

  Enemies never compromised. “Until you fall, remember me. Then you will see my face again, boys. In your waking dreams.”

  “Let’s move,” I suggested, gesturing towards the far off covered entrance. “If we beat you to the entrance, I might even tell you how much time is on those little beauties. Shall we?”

  One hunter looked queasy. The other two went white-knuckled, angry.

  “Stupid and stubborn, that’s what I always say,” I muttered. Grabbing Peggy and Tristan under my arms, I pulled them close. Casting the glamour over all three of us, I simultaneously set off four flash bombs
.

  Everyone flinched, vampire and human alike.

  And in those few moments of complete chaos, I broke the Reborn gift off the lips of the dojo’s students. Within a few hours, they would no longer have any power beyond their own limited minds. They had tasted great possibilities but I knew what Tristan wanted for each of them: a simple mortal life filled with moments of joy.

  What I shared with him, for one shining, glorious day.

  They would be vampires only until daybreak, no longer. I released them all.

  “You can trust him, Peggy,” I whispered as I cast the glamour across the remaining vets who were all the Reborn I had left. “Stay with Tristan, until I come again. I will return for you. Hope. For all of us… Just hold on.”

  Her eyes glowed again, with that light that was supernal. It lit every broken and cracked space within my broken heart.

  She healed me.

  My glamour flashed. And then, just like that, the hollowed-out room dug deep into Mount Lee was filled with almost one hundred and fifty bats. Screeching, their talented echo-location filled the cavern and lit the way to freedom.

  Soaring free, the many, tiny vampire bats filled the smoggy air. Pouring out of the space between the enormous glowing H, the O, and the L, I’m sure we scared more than one tourist out after dark.

  Griffith Park was full of horrors, but none more terrible than me.

  As we winged away from the wretched fortress of my sworn enemies, a blazing cluster of stars rocketed towards our floating colony. A last gift from the heartless hunters.

  Unavoidable, the main one headed straight for me.

  Spinning my back into the flare, I felt the stark, terrible pain of pure-encanted silver as it sunk into my undead corpse.

  Falling to the earth, I lost control of the colony and my sense of direction. Flapping injured wings against the grasp of the harsh pavement, I was able to slow enough as I fell to save Tristan and Peggy from the brunt of the damage.

  Laying there on the sidewalk, I dispelled the glamour.

  Peggy looked around, confused.

  Tristan looked at Peggy. And then he turned his big blue eyes to me.

  Vampires don’t bleed.

  Not like humans. But there was a seeping black ichor across my chest.

  “Poison.” I whispered. “Peggy…” She grabbed my hand, leaning in.

  “What do I do, Mama? What can stop this?”

  I look at my darling girl. At the last hope of a dying race, and as my eyes close, I whisper in her ear, “The crypt. There’s… a chance…I might heal…”

  Without a moment of hesitation, Tristan scooped my wounded body into his arms and began to run.

  Peggy led the way to our home and the only chance I had: the crypt.

  My eyes grew heavy as I began to fade away.

  “No. NO! Dammit, no. Mama, you hold on. You stay. We are almost there. Just listen to my voice,” Peggy insisted that I hear one last song. So, I did.

  Fiercely I held on, right there, cradled between the two of them while Tristan hailed a taxi. Shoved into the back seat, I was less than a rag doll.

  I didn’t care.

  Peggy and Tristan held me tight.

  Together, they took me home.

  CHRONICLES OF STEELE: THE VAMPIRE

  Pauline Creeden

  —1—

  A full moon lit the blackened roadway before them, but glittering like sunrise on the horizon, a town finally came into view. Jack could only hope they wouldn’t be recognized in the town of Sedgwick. They’d left New Haven territory behind and had followed the back roads. It had been a very long time since they’d seen the hint of the new authorities there. They were out of danger, at least for the moment.

  Jack brooded in the darkness. Besides the clopping of the horses’ hooves and the occasional creak of the wagon beneath him, the night was silent. His backside had grown sore from the unforgiving, roughhewn planks of the wagon seat. He and Raven had argued again. She was always so passionate about her choices or else completely detached from them. It made it hard for Jack since he never found himself detached from anything.

  There were times he wondered if she truly loved him. He’d hinted at marriage a few times, but she deflected. And when he finally outright asked, she’d changed the subject — but this was all before the uprising that left them homeless and on the run.

  Behind him, Darius moaned. He’d been attempting to sleep in the wagon, but with very little supper. Raven had forgone her meal so the young duke could have a double portion of pemmican, what meager amount they had. Jack had tried to get her to take a share of his, but she refused. Instead, he’d ended up giving his meal to Darius as well, and his stomach complained now.

  The way was too slow going. At this rate, it would be several hours before they reached Sedgwick. Close to daybreak, likely. Jack gripped the leather of the reins in his hands tightly and wished he’d had mechanical horses instead of these flesh ones. At least then they could get to the town in half the time as these two old plow horses plodded in. But with the duke’s condition, it was the price they paid to get out of New Haven. They had disguised themselves as a farming family and needed to keep their cover. Mechanical horses were only ever found among the elite.

  Raven slid almost silently into the seat next to him and smoothed her violet traveling dress over her lap. Her dark hair had come loose of her bun and sent a few soft tendrils to frame her beautiful face. Jack swallowed and turned away. He didn’t want to notice how lovely she looked in the moonlight. It only made his chest ache and his stomach twist. Even though she’d come back to him on that day she’d left, they still hadn’t grown any closer.

  “You should get some sleep,” she whispered. “I can drive the horses for a bit.”

  He shook his head, but didn’t say a word.

  “There’s no need for false bravado. You’ve been driving the horses all day and need to rest sometime. We forwent setting camp because we are out of provisions. Driving all night may be necessary, but there is no need for you to do it all.”

  Jack sighed. She was right again. What was wrong with him? If any one of his soldiers had made the suggestion, he would have agreed and handed over the reins. But for some reason, he behaved so childishly when it came to Raven. He didn’t want her rational explanations; he wanted her emotions. No, he wanted her. And because she resisted him, it only made him want to resist her in some way as well. His jaw tightened. It was the right thing to do, even if the childish part of him wanted to refuse. He handed over the reins and began to stand in the wagon.

  One of the horses whinnied and shied into the other, causing the whole wagon to jostle and tip. Instead of falling from the wagon, Jack grabbed hold of the edge of the fender and hopped from the vehicle in a dismount. He landed on his feet beside it, immediately searching the wooded area the direction from which the horses had shied away. Raven pulled the horses to a stop.

  “What happened? Are we there?” Darius sat up from his pallet and rubbed his eyes, squinting to search the darkness.

  Long shadows made it impossible to see anything beyond the mass of trees. Raven dismounted the carriage and stood next to him. She lifted her skirts and tied them around her waist to gird them and tucked them into her utility belt. Her crossbow pointed toward the copse of trees, a bolt at the ready.

  “Raven?” Darius hung over the side of the wagon.

  Her eyes met his and she placed a finger to her lips. Then with a palm toward the ground, she motioned for him to get down in the wagon. A low growl emanated from the trees. The horses stomped and pranced in place, trying to get away from the sound. Without looking in Jack’s direction, she handed him the reins of the horses.

  Jack frowned. He’d once been captain of the duke’s Red Band Guard. Now he’d been reduced to stable hand. Although his ever-present side stitch kept him from the athletics of running or sprinting after a foe, he still knew how to use his sword or shoot his pistol. His pistol. It had been in a hidden compartmen
t under the seat of the wagon next to Raven’s crossbow. He slid a hand under the seat to get his weapon and then stood next to the horses. Patting the horse closest to him on the neck, he tried to get it to settle down without speaking. Raven didn’t even meet his eyes before she dashed toward the woods.

  Raven spotted a pale silhouette darting between the trees and pursued it. She snapped the crossbow to her back, calculated the trajectory of the movement, and dashed toward where she predicted it would go next. If her instincts were right, she’d cut it off before it would emerge onto the road. But what baffled her was what she was certain she saw. The form of the beast wasn’t beastly at all, but human in nature. And he had not a stitch of clothing on him.

  Cold, spring air whipped against her legs, but her stockings kept the chill at bay. Her breaths came steady as she concentrated on pulling them in and out with the number of steps she took. She leapt over some brush, and upon landing, adjusted her feet to prepare herself for the man who continued headlong for her. She assessed the situation correctly. He was naked and without a doubt, unarmed. Her hands fisted as she held them in front of her in a fighting stance. His eyes became fixed on her, but there was something off about them. Night-shine.

  She blinked. Only beasts had a shine to their eyes in the dark — it was not a human trait. How many curious things would she see today? She didn’t have time to ask herself again. The man’s hands formed claws as he drew closer, and a smile spread across his lips as he bared his fangs. Without another thought, she spun and kicked him, landing the blow squarely against his temple. The man’s head cracked against the tree on the other side of the path. The blow should have rendered him unconscious. It didn’t.

  When the man began to stand, Raven dropped an axe-kick on his back. She rested her boot between his shoulder blades, firmly planting him on the ground. The man didn’t struggle, but turned his head in an awkward angle, twisting his neck beyond what should have been humanly capable. He… no, it… still smiled.

  Whatever this abomination was, it was not human.

  Raven’s fingers twitched, and her hand immediately reached for her crossbow. The quick whistle of wind through leaves drew her attention the moment before another body flung against hers and knocked her from her feet. An overpowering floral scent enveloped her, filling her nostrils with gardenias, before her body skittered across the ground into the rough bark of a pine tree. The shock of it knocked her crossbow from the magnets on the back of her corset.