The Dracula Chronicles: Bound By Blood

by Shane KP O'Neill

  In truth, it had only ever served as a retreat for him. He kept his first wife and son here, where he felt they would be safe. Radu, his brother, laid siege to it in 1462. Christine threw herself from one of the towers to the Arges River below, rather than risk capture. There was an escape route, but she had not known of it.

  Ilona walked outside and smiled when she drew alongside him. “Husband, what is it you are doing?”

  “I am thinking of times past,” he said, without turning his head.

  “Are you feeling well?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “I am well enough.”

  “Your first wife, this is where she jumped?”

  “Yes.”

  She could tell he did not want to discuss it. “You have been distant of late.”

  “Fear not, for it shall pass. I have had much on my mind.”

  “Is it anything you wish to share?”

  “Yes, when Varkal awakens, I shall tell you both.”

  Varkal opened his eyes at the mention of his name. He left the lair where they had slept and joined them outside. “You summoned me?”

  Dracula did not look his way. “Your senses grow sharper.”

  Varkal did not answer. The sound of laughter and singing from far down the valley caught his ear. He licked his lips at the prospect of a good feed.

  “Cast them from your mind,” Dracula said, a sudden icy edge to his tone.

  “What do you mean?” his son asked, offering a sharp look.

  “You are to feed from the Maglaks no more, neither of you.”

  Ilona wondered why he had included her in this. She had never been near one of them, and would not if her husband willed it so. From his tone, she realised it best to not speak.

  “Why have you decided this?” Varkal pressed. “They are giving us an open invitation.”

  “I want them left alone from here on.”

  Varkal showed his obvious displeasure. “Since when is it we make an exception from whom we feed? Fresh blood is fresh blood.”

  “The Maglaks are no longer to suffer by our hand.”

  “Why? Give me a good reason.”

  “Your father’s word is enough,” Ilona cut in. “Perhaps you have been alone too long and forget your place.”

  “What? Why not remain quiet?” he snapped, giving her a stare as cold as hers. “At least till you have an idea that is your own.”

  Ilona leaped the short distance to him and hissed in his face. “Mind your tone with me.”

  “Why? Might you bend me over and spank me, Mother?”

  She glared at him. “I am not your mother.”

  “Stop!” Dracula shouted at them both. “I do not want to hear any of this on this night.”

  “Then what is at the root of this?” Varkal asked him, ignoring her again.

  “They used to be known as my people.”

  “Yes, they used to be.”

  Dracula looked him directly in the eye, not liking his son’s tone. “And they shall be once more.”

  “I think this is foolish.”

  Ilona looked to her husband. It annoyed her that he allowed Varkal to talk to him with such little respect.

  Varkal picked up on it right away. “Oh, Mother, must you always try and see me incur Papa’s wrath?”

  Ilona flew at him. She drove a knee into his chest that left him flat on his back. He laughed when she grabbed his long hair and raised a hand to strike him.

  “Enough!” Dracula shouted. He glared at his son. “It is time you showed my wife the respect due her.”

  Varkal got to his feet. “There is no sport in either of you.”

  Ilona had never liked him. “Perhaps it is because you irritate rather than amuse.”

  “I am what you both made me.”

  “I had no part in it,” she reminded him. “It is a shame your father did not let you swing from that rope.”

  “A shame for you, perhaps.”

  Dracula walked up to him and grabbed his collar. Until that moment, Varkal had not known his father’s strength. “I have already warned you,” he said, his voice cold and threatening. “You do not want to vex me.”

  Varkal did not say another word. He did not even look at Ilona, although she continued to glare at him.

  “I am thinking to remain in Wallachia for some time,” Dracula informed them.

  “Good,” Varkal said. “I can never sleep well on foreign soil.”

  Ilona was not as happy to hear the news. She enjoyed travelling and seeing new things.

  “Mihnea shall need us soon. I want to be here when that time comes to pass.”

  “A Draculesti on the Wallachian throne again?” Ilona smiled.

  “Yes, that is what I want.”

  Varkal grunted to himself. No one had ever afforded him the benefits of his lineage.

  “For that reason, I wish to make peace with the Maglaks,” his father told him.

  “What benefit is there in that? They shall not fight for our family’s honour.”

  “If we are to remain, there may be a time when we need someone to watch over us while we sleep. They would serve that purpose.”

  “And what should we offer in return? They would want some compensation for it.”

  “There are many factions in this country that can hurt them. We can offer them wealth and our protection.”

  “These people do not care for wealth. When they gave their blood, they did it from loyalty to you. They are simple people, and live off the land.”

  Dracula began to grow irritated with his argument. “Loyalty you rewarded by killing them when you could have taken others.”

  Varkal did not let it deter him. “When do you propose to make this peace with them?”

  “I am going to speak with them this night.”

  “When?” Ilona asked. “You know they no longer venture out after dark.”

  “They are out this night.”

  “Then why not make haste?” Varkal suggested. “I need to feed soon.”

  “For once, I must agree with him,” Ilona said. “If we wait till after we feed, we might not see them before the morrow.”

  “Very well. We go.”

  The three of them took to the air, eager to reach their destination for differing reasons. Varkal showed the effects of a strong thirst, and he wanted to satisfy his craving. Dracula gave him a sharp look to indicate he meant what he said.

  Life as a vampire suited Varkal. Yet he differed from his father in many ways. Dracula killed out of necessity as Lucifer had willed it. He did not discriminate with his victims, unless in need of a foetus, and he usually made the kill quick. Varkal, on the other hand, often killed for pleasure. Sadistic and cruel, he liked to put his victims through terrible suffering before drinking from them. He subjected them to all manner of physical and mental torture. In his need to satisfy his sexual appetite and perversions, he would do anything.

  Neither Dracula nor Ilona cared much for what he did. As long as it did not involve one of the Maglaks, he could do as he pleased.

  Then they heard it; the sound of laughter coming from the depths of the forest. Varkal looked to his father for approval. When Dracula gave the nod, he changed course and turned into the trees, with his father and stepmother close behind.

  Dracula and Ilona soon left him in their wake, possessing abilities far superior to his. He did his best to keep pace with them, but soon lagged behind. They moved with blinding speed through the darkness, where the trees proved no obstacle.

  Varkal took risks in his eagerness to catch them. A protruding branch caught his shoulder and knocked him off course. He crashed into the trunk of a nearby sycamore with a sickening thud. The stump of a broken branch tore his clothing, and the flesh on his right arm. He emitted a piercing scream and landed on his back. The sycamore toppled over.

  Not too far away, a small group of gypsies sat around a roaring fire. They all heard the inhuman cry, their laughter coming to an abrupt stop.

  The elder stood up an
d looked to the trees. “He is coming,” he said to one of his sons. “Take the women and children inside the tents.”

  The eldest of the women walked up to her husband. “Must you do this, Andrei?”

  “Yes, my love,” he said. “You know I must. We have been together fifty years.”

  She sighed hard. “I fear it is going to bring danger to our loved ones.”

  “Do not worry, Antonia, my love. No harm shall come to any of you while I can still draw breath. I have been ready for this a long time past. Go inside with the others.”

  She planted a soft kiss on his cheek and walked away.

  The men in the group saw the women and children safely inside as the elder instructed. They armed themselves and waited around the fire.

  “Are you sure this is what you want, Papa?” one of them said to the elder.

  “Yes, my son,” he whispered. “I have waited very many years to speak to Vlad Dracula. This is the moment.”

  WALLACHIA. THE FOREST IN THE FOOTHILLS

  OF THE CARPATHIAN MOUNTAINS.

  JANUARY 1, 1500. MOMENTS LATER.

  Dracula and Ilona checked their flight when they heard Varkal scream, a sound that echoed like a gong in their ears. Already, they caught the scent of his wound on the breeze. Angry, they turned back to find him lying on his back on the forest floor.

  He looked up and groaned, blood oozing steadily from his arm. When he saw his father’s glare, he turned his head away.

  “This is not the time,” Dracula said, his anger simmering beneath the surface.

  Ilona did not mask hers so well and hissed at him to show her displeasure. “You are a fool. Why could you not fly over the trees?”

  Dracula could see the wound was a bad one. He ripped away his son’s vest to check the extent of the injury.

  Varkal winced when he touched it.

  “I have a mind to tear the limb off,” he said, showing no sympathy. He turned to Ilona. “I must transfuse him.”

  “The wound shall heal itself,” she argued.

  “Yes,” he agreed, “but we cannot wait. I want him with me this night.”

  “Let him suffer. He needs a lesson taught him.”

  “On any other night, I would.”

  He cut his wrist and offered it to his son. Varkal looked up at him before putting it to his mouth. The taste was rich and sweet and far better than any he had tried since the night his father had turned him. He drank as though he had not done in a long time.

  “Enough,” Dracula said. “You have all you need.”

  Varkal did not want to let go and so his father snatched his arm away. Already he felt a drain on his strength. There were times he cursed the night he brought Varkal into the fold. This felt like one of those.

  “The wound should heal at once,” he said. “Make haste if you wish to feed.”

  He ran his tongue over his own wrist to seal the incision he had made.

  Andrei stood by the campfire and looked to the forest, where he sensed Dracula drawing ever closer. His six sons stood all around in a circle, feeling the need to protect him. With their swords drawn, they waited. Soon the one their father called his brother would approach them from the trees.

  The three vampires continued their journey on foot. The strong smell of fresh blood filtered through to them. It made Varkal ache. He had a thirst so strong it would take two good men to satisfy it.

  Ilona sensed it in him. “Keep your calm,” she said. “Let us see what we have first before you wreak havoc.”

  “What Ilona says rings true,” Dracula said to his son. “I smell a lot of blood there.”

  The gypsies watched them emerge from the trees. The strangers had the airs of nobility with their fine clothes and posture. That much they saw right away. They did notice one of the group had torn the sleeve on his upper left arm. There were blood stains around the tear, and it made them curious as to why.

  Andrei stood firm while his sons touched the hilts of their swords. They braced themselves in case the need arose to have to defend their loved ones.

  “Good night, sir,” Andrei said to Dracula. “And a pleasant New Year to you all.”

  “It is that,” Varkal agreed, smiling and eyeing his supper.

  Andrei’s sons focused on the vampire at once and could sense the evil in him. The black aura that emanated from him was an offence to them all.

  “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?” Andrei asked them.

  “We were out for a ride,” Dracula began.

  “We stopped to water the horses,” Ilona cut in. “That awful sound spooked them and they bolted.”

  None of them believed her. Who rides in a forest this late at night?

  Dracula shot her a quick glance and took up the story. “We heard laughter from the forest. In that we are a fair way from home, we decided to follow its source.”

  “That led us to you,” Ilona said, feigning a smile.

  “We would be grateful of the warmth of your fire. And the sharing of some New Year cheer.”

  Andrei motioned to them with his hand to join him. “You are welcome here. Sit with me and enjoy the warmth of the fire.” He stopped and pointed at Varkal. “What happened to him?”

  Dracula looked at his son. “He suffered a fall when the horses bolted and tore his shirt, but all is well. I can compensate you for your trouble for the sharing of your fire.”

  “There is no need,” Andrei said, his smile and the confidence behind it unnerving Dracula a little. “I am pleased that you are here.”

  Varkal eyed the others. “Then why are your friends poised to strike us down?”

  “Be at ease, boys,” Andrei said to them. He turned to Varkal. “Forgive my sons. They are not accustomed to seeing strangers at such a late hour.”

  “Pay him no heed,” Ilona said. “He is still vexed after falling from his horse.”

  “I assure you, he is not offended,” Dracula said. “As a parent, I appreciate the desire to protect loved ones.”

  “Are you hungry?” Andrei asked. “Would you like to share some food?”

  “No, we are fine. A little thirsty perhaps, but it can keep. The warmth of your fire is what is needed most.”

  Varkal remained on his feet. He cast his eye over the tents and wagons, where a young woman caught his eye. She was the wife of one of the men facing him.

  Her husband noticed his eye wander. “Why do you not sit?” he asked.

  Varkal gave him a look that offered no hint of friendliness. “I prefer to stand. I am stiff after my fall.”

  Ilona glanced at him, and then back to the elder. She smiled as he took a seat opposite them on the other side of the fire.

  A quiet moment passed. The two men gazed into each other’s eyes for the very first time. Andrei had known of his brother for very many years. Dracula, on the other hand, had sensed him in his mortal life, but knew nothing of him.

  They breathed life in the very same moment in the cold winter of 1431. The great Vlad Dracul had sired them both. Dracula went on to become a famed and feared ruler after his father. Andrei stayed with the people to whom his mother had belonged. From the time of their births, their paths were destined to cross.

  Something passed between them in that moment. Dracula sensed a connection he had not known was there, and it made him uneasy. The man sat opposite him did not break his gaze. He felt Andrei’s eyes cutting into him, which added to his feeling of uncertainty. In any situation such as this, where someone looked him straight in the eye, he would have a hypnotic effect over them. This was not the case here. He tried to scan the other man, and it alarmed him when he could not.

  Ilona and Varkal sensed his concern. With their thoughts, they reached out to him for direction. He did not respond. This situation had left him more than confused.

  For the first time, the three of them sensed they might be amidst something with the power to hurt them. It worried Varkal most of all. The sons of the elder did not seem to fear him. They looked at
him as though they knew what he was and were poised to attack. He moved toward the fire, taking a position close to his father.

  Andrei knew he was in the presence of great evil. Sat only a few feet away, he faced his opposite. He and Dracula were twin souls. His very existence was borne out of the need for a balance to that evil. Even before his birth, the Powers of Light knew it was coming. It was why they gave Andrei to the world. They bestowed on him the purest soul and the power to bring Dracula down.

  He looked deep into Dracula’s black heart. Beyond that, he caught a glimpse of the blackest soul. He read the uncertainty in his mind. It is well that you fear me, he thought. He smiled at his brother to let him know he did not fear him.

  Dracula tried again to scan his mind. The defences there were too strong for even him to breach. He had to stop as the effort hurt his eyes. However, he did not break their gaze. “Who are you?”

  Andrei remembered some of the events of years past. On the two occasions the Dark Side had learned of his whereabouts, they sent their legions to kill him. Twice, the Archangels had come to his rescue. He worried now that if he revealed all it might alert them to him again. But he knew it was time for Dracula to know. He had to make this beast aware that forces existed to keep him in check and eventually bring him down. This meeting had come about for a reason, and that was it.

  “I am the one with the power to kill you,” he said.

  The revelation startled Dracula and added to the tension in the other two. Ilona looked at Andrei, her false smile long gone.

  “Though I feel our time is a long way off,” Andrei added.

  Dracula forced a smile. He still had no idea of the identity of the elder. “What makes you believe you have such a power?”

  “We both know it, Vlad Dracula.”

  The stranger making mention of his name struck fear into his black heart. He maintained his resolve and disguised his fears well. The others urged him to leave. Their voices echoed through his mind, drowning out his own thoughts for a moment.

  “You know who I am,” Dracula said, nodding to himself. “You could at least extend the same courtesy to me.”