After Dark

by Nancy A. Collins

  CHAPTER 3

  As Carmen dodged the arrows raining down from the sky, someone stepped on the hem of her full-length gown, throwing her off balance. She tumbled headlong, coming to rest at the foot of the garden stairs. She cried out in pain and fear as she was trampled by her fellow Old Bloods. As she raised her head, one of the vampire hunters stepped out from behind a nearby bush and pointed his crossbow at her.

  Before the Van Helsing could pull the trigger, a huge wolf with fur the color of coal leaped out of the shadows, sinking its bared fangs deep into the hunter’s throat. A moment later Sergei Savanovic stood up, wiping the blood from his mouth. He grabbed Carmen by the hand, pulling her onto her feet.

  “Come on—let’s get out of here!”

  Even though she was more scared than she’d ever been in her life, Carmen smiled.

  ***

  “Lilith! Where are you? Princess!” Victor shouted, trying desperately to spot his daughter’s honey-blond head among the confusion.

  The damned Van Helsings knew their prey all too well. They had banked on the vampire’s instinctual fear of fire and used the tear gas and smoke bombs to spark a panic. Only minutes had passed since the start of the attack, but the gardens and terrace were a scene of mass confusion and terror.

  There was the sound of an animal yelping in pain overhead, and Victor looked up to see the Van Helsings’ pet gargoyle flap away, the leathery membranes of its wings badly torn and its flanks deeply gashed.

  “There he is!” a man’s voice shouted. “There’s Todd!”

  A phalanx of vampire hunters outfitted in night-vision goggles and repeating crossbows were advancing up the stairs toward him. They were led by Christopher Van Helsing, head of the hated Institute and the direct descendant of those responsible for killing Victor’s own parents.

  “Open fire!”

  It was too late to flee. Victor fell to the ground, his upper body so full of arrows it resembled a pincushion. Although none of the crossbow bolts had found his heart or pierced his skull, the only two vulnerable spots guaranteed to instantly kill a vampire, he was still too wounded to get back up onto his feet.

  Christopher Van Helsing stepped forward, looking down at Victor with a bitter smile. “Every night since you killed my father, I’ve dreamed of this moment. Any last regrets, Todd?”

  “Only that I didn’t destroy you along with him,” Victor growled, spitting a mouthful of blood onto his old enemy’s shoes. “I guess this is what I get for being humane.”

  “At last, the Shadow Hand will finally be returned to its rightful heirs—and there is nothing you can do to stop it,” Christopher Van Helsing sneered, planting his foot on the wounded vampire’s chest. “This is for my dad,” he said as he lifted his crossbow. “Burn in hell, Todd!”

  “I’ll be sure to give your father my regards when I arrive,” Victor said with a humorless laugh.

  “No!” Cally screamed as she lunged out of hiding, pushing the vampire hunter away from her father.

  Christopher Van Helsing staggered backward, caught off guard, then quickly recovered, spinning around to find himself face-to-face with a girl with short-cropped dark hair and bright green eyes. Her left hand was glowing with a dark energy.

  “Not you!” he gasped, a terrified look crossing his face.

  Dropping his crossbow, Van Helsing cried out in pain and stared down at his forearm. On the sleeve of his jacket a black handprint could be seen. He stared in dumbstruck horror as the fingerprints began to elongate and spread like jungle vines, sending the blackness up his forearm and across his shoulder. As the unearthly darkness spread to his neck and face, Van Helsing screamed.

  Cally covered her ears and looked away, unable to watch as the shadow poured itself into the vampire hunter’s mouth and nose and eyes, filling him up from the outside in, like ink poured into a glass of water. Within seconds what had been a human being became a living silhouette. There were no eyes, no mouth, no features of any kind—just impenetrable blackness, as lightless as the depths of space. The living shadow waved its arms and staggered about for a moment, only to collapse on itself like the spray from a fountain.

  Cally looked up and saw Peter standing on the other end of the terrace, staring at her in disbelief. The look of anger and loss in his eyes struck her heart like a hammer blow. Despite all her attempts to avoid it, the tradition of Todds and Van Helsings hating and killing one another had been passed along to a new generation.

  There was a sound like the roar of a great dragon, and the remaining ballroom windows blew outward in a shower of flying glass as the imposing figure of Count Orlock emerged from the clouds of tear gas onto the terrace, gliding forward as if he were on casters. The Van Helsings, momentarily stunned by the demise of their leader, quickly snapped back to life, unleashing yet another volley at the approaching vampire lord.

  Count Orlock did not flinch as the wall of arrows came whizzing toward him. He snatched one of the projectiles from midair as if it were nothing more than a toy. Snarling in disdain, he hurled it back at his enemies, skewering one of the vampire hunters through the throat. Van Helsing’s troops began backing their way down the stairs, weapons still at the ready.

  “By the Darkest Powers! You dare attack me in my own home?” Count Orlock shouted, his voice echoing like thunder from on high. “You dare to assault my people on this, one of our most cherished nights? You will pay for this affront with your wretched lives!” He raised his clawlike hands over his head, his eyes glowing bright red as lightning split the night sky. “Arise, my legions!” he bellowed. “Arise and avenge your master!”

  In answer to his command, there was a deep rumbling noise. Massive subterranean gears began to turn as a half-dozen hidden entrances to the catacombs below King’s Stone yawned open and the undead army of the Orlocks poured forth like angry ants. First out were the Roman centurions, dressed in their silvered armor and greaves, followed by gladiators outfitted with tridents and nets. Behind them came the medieval knights, sealed within their suits of plate armor, and grenadiers wearing Napoleonic uniforms.

  Peter Van Helsing stared, dumbstruck, as the legions of undead swarmed in his direction. He barely responded as Rémy, one of his father’s lieutenants, grabbed his arm.

  “Peter—snap out of it! You’ve got to get out of here!”

  “But—my dad…” Peter said thickly. The sight of his father being destroyed by the girl he loved had stunned him so profoundly it felt like his brain was drowning in molasses.

  “Your father’s gone! You’re in charge now!” Rémy shouted as he dragged Peter toward the Stealth helicopters hidden at the far end of the garden. Van Helsings with flamethrowers strapped to their backs scurried forward, laying down a wall of fire between the advancing undead and their retreating comrades-in-arms.

  Count Orlock’s undead balked like skittish horses, unwilling to cross the burning line in pursuit of their prey. Although impervious to almost everything besides a stake to the heart and sunlight, the undead shared their masters’ dread of fire.

  As Rémy hurried him to the waiting choppers, Peter looked over his shoulder one last time and saw Cally standing on the terrace, staring after him with a stricken look on her face.

  Peter cursed himself for being such a fool. He had allowed himself to fall under the spell of a vampire and it cost him his father’s life. He had tried to tell himself that because Cally had a human mother, she wasn’t like the others. There was no denying now that she was every bit her father’s child. But that wasn’t the worst of it.

  No, the worst was that, even though he now hated her more than anything else on earth, he still craved her love. And always would.

  ***

  “Cally! Praise to the Founders, you’re alive! Are you okay?”

  Cally stared mutely at Baron Metzger as he took off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. She looked at her left arm. Although her hand was once more normal, she held it away from herself as if it was no longer a part of her
body.

  “I just wanted him to stop,” she said numbly. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. All I did was touch him….”

  “What are you talking about?” Baron Metzger frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  “She used the Shadow Hand to kill the leader of the Van Helsings,” Victor grunted as he struggled to sit up. He grimaced as he pulled the arrows jutting from his torso free and tossed them aside.

  “My liege—are you all right?” Metzger moved to his master’s side, but Victor waved him away.

  “I’ll heal soon enough. I just need to find Lilith, that’s all.” Victor looked around the terrace, which was littered with the dead and dying from both sides. His eyes widened in alarm as he spotted the body of a blond woman sprawled near the stairs that led down to the garden. “Merciful Founders—no!” he cried out. “Irina!”

  Victor dropped to his knees beside the body of his wife, a look of genuine shock on his face. “What was she doing out here? I told her to stay inside while I went to find Lilith!”

  “Jules brought your wife and daughter to the safe room I have set aside for my family for such emergencies,” Count Orlock explained. “Irina was trying to find you to let you know Lilith was safe.” He shook his bald head in disgust. “This is my fault—I should have summoned my legions sooner!”

  Metzger glanced down at his watch. “It’s been less than eight minutes since the start of the attack,” he said in amazement.

  “Her heart is ruined,” Victor said mournfully as he stroked his dead wife’s hair. “Her bloodright is lost.”

  “The Van Helsings will pay for this transgression,” Count Orlock assured him.

  “They already have,” Metzger replied. “Their leader is dead.”

  Count Orlock lifted an eyebrow. “Christopher Van Helsing is dead? How?”

  Victor pointed at Cally, who stood shivering beside Metzger, clutching his jacket around her shoulders.

  “You expect me to believe a mere fledgling brought down the leader of the Institute?” Orlock snorted.

  “She is more than just a fledgling, Your Excellency,” Victor explained. “The girl carries the Shadow Hand.”

  “Blood of the Founders!” Count Orlock turned to Metzger, a shocked look on his face. “Your daughter is half human?”

  “Yes, Your Excellency.”

  “Once news of how Van Helsing died spreads among the other guests, there will have to be a board of inquiry,” Orlock said, wearily massaging his furrowed brow. “De Laval will insist on it.”

  “I know, Boris,” Metzger said grimly.

  “Very well, Karl—take your child home before my brother-in-law finds out.” Count Orlock sighed. “The slayer of our people’s greatest enemy deserves that much, at least.”

  ***

  “When are we going to get out of here?” Lilith asked.

  “When Uncle Boris comes to get us,” Jules replied.

  The Orlocks’ secret panic room was a small chamber behind the huge fireplace that dominated the ballroom’s west wall. Jules had spirited her to the hiding place after Lilith narrowly escaped the talons of the marauding gargoyle. Now she was sitting around with Jules, his father, Count de Laval, and his aunt Juliana, the Countess Orlock.

  Lilith was relieved that Count Orlock was not hiding out with them, as being in such close quarters with someone that hideous was enough to make her gag. Still, she was worried that Xander hadn’t shown up yet. He had been so brave—she hoped he hadn’t gotten staked by a Van Helsing. Besides, she still needed his help in alchemy. Her mother had yet to return as well, but that was of considerably less concern to Lilith than getting off academic probation so she could go nightclubbing again—oh, yeah, and keep from flunking out of school.

  There was the sound of stone scraping against stone as the concealed entrance swung open, revealing Count Orlock and Victor Todd in the doorway.

  “Daddy!” Lilith squealed, throwing her arms around his neck.

  “Are you okay, princess?” Victor asked, returning her hug.

  “I got attacked by this gross-looking gargoyle! It would have killed me if not for Xander and his big brother, Klaus.”

  “Klaus is Xander’s demi-brother,” Count de Laval said, injecting himself into the conversation. “His mother was Count Orlock’s first wife, not my sister.”

  “All that should matter to you, Julian, is that the boy saved your son’s future bride,” Count Orlock snapped.

  Jules’s father scowled at his kinsman’s rebuke but said no more.

  “Where’s Irina?” Lilith asked, looking around. “She left to tell you I was safe….”

  “Lilith—I’m afraid I have some very bad news,” Victor said solemnly. “Your mother is dead.”

  “Were you able to claim her bloodright before she died?” Lilith asked without missing a beat.

  Victor shook his head. “No—there was no chance. Her heart was destroyed by a crossbow arrow.”

  Lilith shrieked. “Damn it! Damn-damn-damn-damn!” she wailed, kicking at the stone walls of the panic room in a blind rage.

  Victor grabbed her by the wrists. “Calm down! I realize you’re upset…”

  “Why couldn’t that stupid bitch just stay put?” Lilith spat, her blue eyes flashing in anger. “She didn’t have to go looking for you! What was she thinking, putting my bloodright on the line like that? She had no right to go and get herself killed like that! No right at all!”

  ***

  “Can’t this car go any faster?” Cally asked anxiously. “I need to get home as soon as I can!”

  Baron Metzger leaned over and patted her hand. “You needn’t worry, Cally. The Van Helsings have no leader. The son is little more than a pretty boy—he’s dwelled in his father’s shadow all his life. I doubt he’ll be coming after us anytime soon, not after the losses they suffered tonight.”

  “I don’t care about them coming after me. I’m worried about my mother.”

  “Why should Van Helsings bother with her? Besides, it’s not like she’s there by herself—your father left two of his undead in the apartment.”

  Cally looked out the window. “I just have a bad feeling, that’s all.”

  ***

  “I have never been so embarrassed in my life—and that’s saying something!” Victor snarled as he strode through the hallway of the Orlock mansion, Lilith trotting after him in her scuffed heels. “I realize you and your mother were never close—but you could at least pretend to be upset that she’s dead!”

  “But I am upset!” Lilith protested.

  “No, you’re mad! Mad at your mother for being killed! Believe it or not, there’s a difference. You’re not the only one inconvenienced by all this, you know. It bothers me that I’ve been cheated of Irina’s bloodright, but at least I have the good sense not to publicly accuse her of getting killed on purpose!”

  “I never said that!”

  “Well, you’re certainly acting like it! It wouldn’t hurt for you to show your mother some respect.”

  “Yeah. Right.” Lilith sneered. “That’s a good one, coming from you.”

  Victor whipped around so fast she nearly collided with him. The look in her father’s eyes as he glared at her made her cringe. “Don’t you ever use that tone of voice with me again—understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” Lilith whispered, dropping her gaze.

  “We must get away from here in case the human authorities show up,” Victor said, resuming his hurried walk down the corridor. “Besides, I’ve got a ton of work ahead of me! When Irina died, all the Viesczy undead went with her, including a good number of the household staff. It’s going to take time for me to bring enough of my family’s undead out of cold storage to replace them. Plus there’s the matter of your mother’s totentanz: a woman of her stature and family line requires a magnificent celebration.”

  “Do we have enough undead?” Lilith asked anxiously.

  “Don’t worry—I have more than plenty. They’ve been warehoused for some time, so it migh
t take them a little while to become acclimated to this century and its technology, but everything should be back to normal in a couple of weeks.”

  As they exited King’s Stone, heading toward the parking field, Lilith eyed the skies, half expecting to see a gargoyle swooping down at her. She shivered and hurried after her father. Victor paused for a second, searching the collection of luxury sedans and high-priced sports cars for his Rolls-Royce.

  “I see it, Daddy!” Lilith said. “Third row to the left!” She frowned and looked around. “I don’t see Vasily, though.”

  “He’s right here,” Victor replied, opening the car door to reveal an empty suit of clothes and a chauffeur’s cap lying on the leather seat behind the steering wheel. On the floorboards sat a pair of black patent leather shoes, filled to overflowing with a fine, grayish-white powder. Victor leaned inside and swept the remains of the chauffeur out onto the gravel drive.

  “I always thought Vasily belonged to the Todd side of the family.” Lilith coughed, waving her hand in front of her face. “What are we going to do now?”

  “I do know how to drive, you know,” Victor replied sarcastically as he retrieved the keys to the car.

  “The sooner we’re away from here, the better!” Lilith said as she opened the rear door.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” her father growled. “You’re sitting up front with me.”

  “But—”

  “No buts, young lady! I’m not going to have people think I’m your damned chauffeur. Now get in the car.”

  “All right! I hear you!” Lilith exclaimed, slamming the rear door shut.

  Victor shook his head in dismay as he slid the Rolls into gear. He was already starting to miss Irina. And whether she wanted to admit it or not, so was Lilith.

  CHAPTER 4

  The first thing Cally noticed as she stepped out of the elevator was the silence. She glanced up at Baron Metzger. “I don’t like it. It’s too quiet. Usually you can hear whatever movie my mom is watching the moment the doors open.”