Vincent was all too familiar with the way the clan viewed the world, but Sasha was his blind spot. He hadn’t thought them capable of turning against one of their own in such a murderous fashion. Dracula disapproved of Sasha’s ways, but to consider them a capital offense? Vincent was too enraptured by Sasha’s rebellious spirit to see the noose tightening around her.
A sudden sound broke through the veil of Vincent’s memories. It had emanated from outside the chamber. Vincent decided to investigate. He stepped out of the small room and started down a steep staircase overlooking a dizzying network of stairs that ran within the walls of the castle. Vincent’s gut told him that the architects who designed this secret network were rewarded for their efforts with a swift death and a shallow grave. Dracula didn’t like to share his secrets with the world.
Vincent descended the winding flight of stairs, rounded a corner, and arrived inside a room dominated by flickering monitors. Old security feeds played across a bank of screens, a digital mosaic of black-and-white images. In many of the shots, the now-dead vampires were still alive. In some they were in the process of meeting their grisly ends. It was a shrine devoted to the murders of the clan members.
Vincent stepped closer to the monitors. He took note of a series of labeled DVDs on a small shelf nearby. Each DVD was dated. Curiosity piqued, Vincent snatched one of the DVDs and inserted it into a player. The security feed was replaced by shots of various humans being stalked and hunted by Dracula within the castle - hapless souls unlucky enough to stumble into the Count’s web.
The killer was toying with the clan the same way Dracula toyed with his victims.
Another sound caught Vincent’s attention. It came from a nearby doorway.
His guard up, Vincent approached the door. The noise didn’t repeat itself but Vincent became aware of a familiar scent, an overpowering perfume that was becoming stronger by the second.
Blood.
It hung in the air, permeated the chamber. But it was fainter than usual, which meant the precious lifeforce had been spilled after its hapless donor perished. Nevertheless, the heady fragrance was powerful enough to give rise to a ravenous hunger in him.
Vincent opened the door and skulked into the adjoining chamber. He took a few cautious steps before he froze, realizing he wasn't alone any longer. Six people formed a semi-circle around Vincent. Men and women, all in their twenties.
Pick them young and they’ll last longer.
They were shackled to the wall, throats and wrists open and slick with blood, their life force spattered across the floor and walls. The sight of so much blood was overwhelming. Vincent shook with the sudden need to feed. It was difficult enough resisting the call of the blood under normal circumstances, but he hadn’t fed even on animal blood since he arrived the other night and his hunger was becoming harder to control.
A raspy gurgle shredded the silence of the room. Vincent spun around. One of the men was still alive. His bloodless features regarded Vincent with naked terror as he hovered on the brink of death.
Vincent approached, taking in the dying man, his hunger intensifying. The need had become insistent. Vincent spoke, his voice trembling, “Who are you? Who did this to you?”
The man’s answer came in the form of a death rattle, all life leaving his drained form as his head slumped forward. Vincent was almost relieved. Vampires couldn’t feed on the dead, the act carrying with it terrible consequences. The young man’s death had removed the temptation. Vincent didn’t know if he could have resisted much longer. And with this thought came another - the man would’ve perished anyway, regardless of his actions, so why didn’t he indulge himself, just this once?
Vincent put a stop to this line of thinking, detesting the power the blood still held over him. A man had perished, cut down in the prime of life, and the strongest emotion Vincent could muster was regret at having missed a guilt-free snack. In that moment Vincent wished Dracula had torn out his throat all those years ago and let him bleed out on the whiskey-stained saloon floor.
Sudden footsteps brought Vincent back to reality. He tilted his head, coming face to face with the woman who had appeared in the doorway, wide-eyed shock now marring her beauty. It was none other than Maria.
Electrified by terror, Maria backed away but...
Vincent was already upon her. He pinned her against the wall, eyes smoldering with questions. “Who's behind this? What's going on here?”
“I don't know...”
“No more lies! You killed Sebastian.”
“Please, I swear... I was just trying to get away.”
Maria’s body was shaking, her voice resigned and defeated. “I can't take it anymore. Just kill me, just get it over with...”
Maria's fear and helpless desperation made Vincent back off, but he didn't loosen his iron grip. “Tell me what happened in the well? Who are you working with?”
No answer.
“Talk to me.”
Maria's eyes locked with Vincent’s. And it seemed to him that her fear began to subside. Almost as if she knew Vincent better than he knew himself. Knew he wasn’t going to harm her. Maria told him earlier that he was different than the others. And judging from her expression, she still felt that way.
Maria started to talk, the words flowing from her lips with ease. She told Vincent how she’d scrambled into the culvert, knowing Sebastian was hot on her trail and would soon join her at the bottom of the well. She had taken a few steps down the duct when a muffled ringing sound drew her attention. She looked around and her eyes fell across a cellphone that had been placed in the gutter, protected by a plastic case. In addition to the phone, the waterproof case contained a flare and a gas can.
For a moment Maria had just stood there, not knowing what to do. She explained to Vincent how the phone seemed out of place in the medieval setting, adding another surreal touch to what was happening, but the last twenty-four hours had irrevocably altered her conception of normal. Sebastian’s booming voice echoed from the well shaft and helped make up her mind. Maria snapped open the case and palmed the cell.
Vincent studied Maria closely, part of him trying to determine whether or not she was lying but sensing that she was telling him the truth. Her eyes remained level as she spoke. ”A voice instructed me to use the flare and set the oil on fire.”
“Did you recognize the voice on the phone?”
Maria shook her head.
“The voice was electronically distorted. I couldn’t tell if it was male or female.”
This made sense to Vincent. The killer wanted him to take the secret passageway inside the chimney and he wanted him to run into Maria. This was a game, and it hadn’t been played out yet. As Vincent eyed the ring of drained victims, a new idea began to take root. For the first time, Vincent wondered if someone in the group could have faked their own death. After all, they never did see Julian or Faust’s bodies.
“How did you end up here?” Vincent asked.
“I just kept following the tunnel.”
Maria’s voice was hollow and without much emotion, her eyes glued to the tableau of death that encircled them. She couldn’t stop looking at the mauled victims.
“Who are these people?” Maria asked Vincent.
“I don't know. Someone fed on them over the last few hours.”
An incredulous look passed across her features. “Why so many?”
“Blood gives us life. But it also heals our wounds.”
Maria eyed him, not sure what he was getting at. But Vincent didn’t offer any further explanation. There was no point speculating out loud. The bottom line was that Vincent still had no idea who was behind these killings.
But he had a feeling he’d find out soon enough.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
DUSK SETTLED OVER Dracula’s chateau, painting it in blood-red fire. Shadows were spreading and soon the sun would disappear, taking with it the last rays of lethal light. Deep within the stone passageways of the chateau, Vincent ascended another
flight of stairs with Maria at his side. He felt a growing intimacy with the woman, a comfort level Vincent hadn’t experienced with anyone in quite some time. And this feeling seemed to be mutual. Maybe it was a variation of the Stockholm Syndrome, a form of capture-bonding, which in this case seemed to go both ways.
They reached a dead end, the stairs ending abruptly before a wall lined with stone gargoyles. Vincent's hands patted down the sculptures, searching. Maria eyed him with growing curiosity. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for a way out of here.”
Vincent's fingers disappeared inside the hollow eye socket of one of the gargoyles and KACHUNK! There was a rumbling sound as the medieval gear mechanism ground to life. A moment later, a section of the wall slid back. Vincent and Maria stepped into the armory, where Zane met his end. Vincent surveyed the vast collection of medieval weapons: broadswords, maces, battle-axes, lances and knives of various shapes and design. Not to mention some weapons Vincent couldn’t put a name to.
He immediately spotted Zane's broken body, which was sprawled near Dracula’s open coffin. The splintered casket was tilted at an odd angle at the foot of the staircase. The shaft of the silver stake protruded from the vampire biker’s chest like a flagpole marking the vampire carcass as its territory. Zane’s skin had flaked off his form and already turned to ash, leaving a shriveled, mummified skeleton inside the now-oversized leather jacket. The lone indicator of Zane’s nature were the twin fangs that dominated the exposed enamel. There was no sign of the bats, as they had already dispersed throughout the castle.
Vincent's gaze traveled over to a large grandfather clock that fronted the wall to his right, its pendulum ticking back and forth inside its narrow cabinet body. The incessant tick-tock was grating and seemed amplified somehow in the silent armory. Vincent traded a quick look with Maria and pointed at the time.
“Six o'clock. Less than half an hour before sundown.”
He had almost made it. Almost... Vincent sensed that the next half hour would be fraught with danger. He was pretty certain the killer was tracking them and would strike any moment now.
Almost as if to confirm his suspicion, Vincent made out a new sound outside the chateau. He stepped up to the window and peering through the polarized glass, spotted an incoming Humvee. Here it comes! The final surprise of the day.
The vehicle pulled into the castle's driveway and came to a stop. Doors snapped open and four men emerged. They were decked out in military fatigues and body armor, toting crossbows, machine guns and UV-lights. The team spread out and surged toward the chateau, their weapons ready. Vincent was about to pull away from the window when a familiar voice cut across the armory.
“Looks like Zane was right after all.”
Vincent pivoted toward Angelique. Escaping the chamber of light had exacted a heavy toll on her. Though her face was lined with a series of fresh burn scars, it remained striking and beautiful in an elemental way. Angelique shook her head, quivering with fermenting rage.
“How could you join forces with a mortal and turn on your own clan?”
“The way the clan turned on Sasha?”
“She had it coming,” Angelique said.
White-hot rage simmered in Vincent's voice. “If I had known, I would’ve killed Dracula myself. But I didn't. Someone else is in charge here.”
“Sorry, Vincent, but I'm not buying it this time.”
Angelique shook her head, face tight, jaw set, murder in her eyes. “I'm seeing it so clearly now. All this time I was trying to defend you. God, I was such a fool.”
Vincent took a step toward Angelique.
“Don't move! Stay right where you are!”
Vincent brought up his hands in a gesture of appeasement, but it did little to calm his former lover. In a controlled voice, he said, “Angelique, listen to me. I'm not the one behind all this. But whoever it is just called in the cavalry.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“A car full of armed men just pulled up to the castle. We have to get out of here.”
“You expect me to believe this?”
Vincent’s answer was to tilt his head at the window.
“See for yourself.”
Vincent took another step toward Angelique.
“I told you not to come any closer!” Angelique's leg swept up and lashed out, connecting with Vincent's face in an explosive roundhouse kick. Vincent's head was knocked back and his body sent flying. He crashed into a suit of armor and the clanging metal rang out.
Angelique launched into him, affection transformed into cold hatred. Before Vincent could react, Angelique ripped the locket from his neck in one furious motion. He realized she must’ve wanted to do this for years. It was a moment she’d replayed over and over again in her mind’s eye. Killing Sasha hadn’t been sufficient to erase Vincent’s memory of his lost love. And if Angelique couldn’t break the spell Sasha held over Vincent, even in death, she could at least destroy the last visible trace of Sasha on this earth. Vincent watched as Angelique regarded the locket with disdain, her eyes alive with white-hot anger and jealousy.
“You have no idea how much I hate her. She ruined everything.” Angelique’s voice grew soft for a moment and there were tears in her eyes.
“Listen to me. We’re in terrible danger...”
Angelique was beyond reason. She crossed the room and with the sound of snapping bones, retrieved the stake from Zane’s skeleton. Weapon in hand, she spun on her heels and advanced toward Vincent, the sharp end of the silver stake held high, her murderous intention clear. Before Angelique could attack, a flash of steel whistled through the air. Angelique reacted to the sound a split second too late as a silver sword sliced her head off in one fell swoop. Her now-headless body stood there for a beat before bone shed flesh and it rained ashes. Looming behind her was none other than... Paul! He was alive and well, sword in hand, black blood dripping down the blade. In his left hand he sported a high-tech crossbow, now leveled at Vincent.
“Paul!” Maria cried out, feelings held tightly in check finally allowed to erupt to the surface. Maria could only stare at her husband with wide eyes, enthralled by a mixture of conflicting emotions. Vincent could tell she was relieved to see her lover alive but shocked to see him wield a blade with such deadly efficiency. Questions thrust through Vincent’s mind. What did it mean? How could Paul still be alive after succumbing to the poison?
Vincent couldn't take his eyes off Maria, suspecting complicity with her husband. But her expression mirrored Vincent’s shocked incomprehension. There was only one explanation - Maria had been kept in the dark about her husband’s involvement in all of this. And that meant she might be in danger herself, without even knowing it. Paul suddenly inclined his head, responding to a voice on his earpiece. The news must have been good because a smile played across Paul’s face as he mouthed into his mic. “Excellent. I'm in the armory. Please send back-up.”
Vincent observed as a dazed Maria approached her husband and reached out for him. She tapped Paul’s arm, almost as if she feared the slightest contact might expose him as a figment of her own imagination. “Paul, what's going on here? How can you be alive?”
Good question, Vincent thought. He was dying to hear the answer himself.
Paul held up a small vial in response, his crossbow remaining leveled on Vincent. “I took the antidote after you guys headed for the well.”
Maria gasped. For the second time within twenty-four hours her world was falling apart. “So you're part of this? How?”
Paul grinned, revealing twin puncture marks on his neck. Someone had been feeding on him.
“I'm sorry baby, but someone made me an offer I just couldn't refuse.” With these words, Paul spun toward Vincent and pulled the trigger of his crossbow. A silver bolt erupted, signaling that the time had come for Vincent to make his move. He exploded into motion, the stake rippling past him to slice thin air where he stood mere instants earlier. With quick, powerful strides,
Vincent dashed from the armory while a second errant bolt struck a shield on the wall. Paul spat out a sharp curse and tore after Vincent, surging past a stunned Maria.
The hunt for Vincent had begun.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
VINCENT WAS SPRINTING down a winding corridor when the air was lashed with gunfire. He didn’t need to be psychic to know the bullets were cast from silver. One hit could do serious damage. Angelique was right; he hadn’t fed on humans and this was costly to his kind. His reflexes, speed and strength were far above average for a human being but he was but a pale shadow of the vampire he had once been. As he tore down the hallway, Vincent felt like he was moving in slow motion. A long, ragged pulse of gunfire stitched the air, far too close for comfort.
Vincent could hold his own against humans who had no idea what they were up against, but this group of vampire hunters was a different story. They had the equipment, the training and the will to track a creature of the night. They knew what they were up against and had come prepared. Vincent would need to bring his A game – there was no doubt that he was in for the toughest battle of his life.
If Angelique had just kept her wits about her and not succumbed to her emotions, Paul would never have been able to sneak up on her. With Angelique on his side, they would’ve stood a fighting chance. On his own, his prospects for survival seemed a lot dimmer.
Vincent’s thoughts were interrupted as laser-lights sliced the air, tracking his moving form like miniature heat-seeking missiles. An assault team was approaching from the other end of the corridor. The men were wearing helmets with protective visors, Kevlar around the throat and wrists to protect all their major arteries. These guys were professionals, a true force to be reckoned with.
With dismay, Vincent realized that backtracking his steps wasn’t an option any longer. Behind him, Paul was catching up, visibly thrilled to be joining the hunt. His hand brought up a Glock and sighted down on Vincent. Death was closing from both ends of the corridor now. There seemed to be no escape.
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