by S Mays
“You’re freakin’ bulletproof?”
“Small arms fire can do me no harm,” remarked Dragos.
Sverre pulled a grenade from the bag. “I bet this will leave a mark.”
“Not as much as you might assume. However, would lobbing an explosive with a delayed timer at me be the best course of action? What of your friends hovering outside?”
With Dragos’ speed, timing the grenade would be impossible. Sverre tossed it away, then dove into the bag, looking for a weapon more suitable. Two large military knives emerged from the bag next. A serrated twelve-inch blade sat atop a handle that curved around to form a guard around the knuckles, essentially becoming bladed brass knuckles.
“Fearful-looking weapons, but ineffectual,” Dragos observed.
Sverre rushed forward, swinging one knife while bringing the other up from below. Dragos blocked both blows, smiling. Sverre flipped the blades around, reversing the direction of his attacks. Dragos blocked each blade with the tip of one finger. The skin did not break. Grabbing the knives, Dragos snapped both of the blades off, tossing them away. Sverre was left with a barren handle in each hand.
Sverre responded with a flurry of kicks at the vampire’s head. Dragos flicked each away easily. Changing tactics, Sverre moved in close. He struck at Dragos’ vulnerable areas in quick succession. Each attack was either blocked or avoided completely.
“This is extremely disappointing. The one I fought back in Spain was much livelier. By my calculations, you should be at least twice as powerful as he was,” Dragos said, dissatisfied.
“I’m just getting warmed up,” Sverre countered. He grappled the vampire, attempting to wrestle him to the ground. Dragos’ eyebrows rose slightly as the young man strained to throw him down. Sverre would have had better luck tearing down a marble column with his bare hands.
“I am beginning to think you are a fool,” Dragos said, his voice dripping with contempt. He swatted Sverre across the room, taking care to restrain the blow. The young man landed hard on the floor, the breath knocked from his lungs. Pushing himself up, his hand fell upon the broken wooden leg of a chair. Palming it against his forearm in order to conceal it, he stood.
“Are you finished? We need to escape before the Order arrives,” Dragos said, pulling the wiring from his wrecked throne. A hidden door opened on the rear wall. “This pod will take us outside the city. Damn the lot of you for compromising my castle.”
While the vampire lord was distracted, Sverre focused his rage, as he had done when he fought Varulf. The familiar surge of power flooded his body. Muscles bulged; veins strained against the increased pressure. Dragos turned just in time to see Sverre’s fist strike him squarely in the jaw, lifting him from the ground. Sverre’s other hand drove the makeshift stake into Dragos’ heart. However, it was Sverre who cried out in pain, grabbing his hand. Splintered shards of wood jutted from his flesh. The stake had shattered completely against the vampire’s impossibly dense flesh.
Dragos rubbed his chin, impressed by Sverre’s attack. “That is the power I had expected to face. I commend you on your effort.” His hand darted out, grabbing Sverre by the throat. He lifted the struggling young man from the floor, putting Sverre between the aircraft and himself.
***
Izzy attempted to reposition the cross hairs of her rifle. “Damn it, I can’t get a shot now,” she cursed. “Not with this tub bucking around like it is.” Jessica groaned beside her, attempting to stand.
“What-what happened?” the dazed young woman asked.
“Oh, hon, the aircraft pitched, and you hit your head,” Izzy lied.
Jessica’s eyes narrowed, considering Izzy’s answer with mistrust. She then noticed Sverre held captive by Dragos. “Why the hell are we still here? How did he get back in the castle?” she cried.
“Sverre demanded to go back, so we did.”
“You fools! Do you know what you have done?” Jessica gasped.
“Yeah, well, you could jump back over and give him a hand,” Izzy offered.
Jessica merely glared at the young woman in response.
Sverre strained with all of his might against the grip of Dragos, but it was futile. The vampire lord’s strength was immeasurable. Dragos walked toward the escape pod. “Still, you struggle? You saw Varulf’s fate. Give in to your destiny. You were born to give me the strength to rule over this planet.”
“I…think I was put…here…to stop…people…like you,” Sverre croaked, struggling to breathe. The strength of his limbs faded as Dragos slowed the flow of blood through his neck.
“Foolish heroic nonsense. I will become an immortal god with your death.”
“I…agree…with the boy,” came a voice from behind. A blood-drenched hand fell upon Dragos’ shoulder, causing him to turn.
Varulf stood behind him, struggling to remain standing. The werewolf’s body was shattered, dozens of bones still broken. Blood gushed from gaping wounds that no longer healed. Exposed bones pushed through ragged skin and muscle.
“I think…he was put…here to…stop you,” Varulf said. Fluid gurgled in his throat as he spoke. Unfocused eyes attempted to perceive the world around him. The wolf was more dead than alive.
“I will free you from your misery, beast,” Dragos sighed, raising his other hand to deliver the mortal blow.
“You…must…be stopped.”
At the instant before Dragos could strike, Varulf summoned his final reserve of strength, dashing at the vampire. Dragos moved to protect himself, but he was not the target of the attack. Varulf’s fangs bit deep into Sverre’s throat. Thrashing his head, he ripped tendons, muscle, arteries, and veins free. Blood sprayed into the air in a crimson fountain, soaking both vampire and wolf alike. Varulf fell face-first to the floor, unmoving.
“I atone…” the dying werewolf gasped, falling limp.
“No. Nooooo!” Dragos screamed, looking from Sverre to Varulf, then back to Sverre. Laying the limp young man down, he pressed on Sverre’s neck, attempting to stanch the flow of blood, but it was futile. Blood gushed around his fingers, pooling on the floor. Latching his mouth on the young man’s shredded neck, he tried to gain at least some portion of power before Sverre died. It was too late.
Howling in rage, Dragos pounded the stone floor of the castle again and again. Ancient stonework cracked and crumbled. Dust fell from the ceiling. Paintings crashed to the floor. The entire skyscraper shuddered. Dragos turned on Varulf’s warm body, ripping into it, slashing and smashing. Limbs and flesh rebounded off of the walls and ceiling, yet he continued.
***
“Get us the hell out of here!” Izzy screamed at the pilot. The broken craft lurched away from the structure.
Dragos raised his head, his eyes locked on the people in the aircraft, his face full of dark fury. Rising to his feet, he quickly appeared at the edge of the broken wall and shouted, “Stop!” in a volume that should not have been possible. The craft ceased its escape, hovering in place.
“What the hell are you doing? I said, get us out of here!” Izzy bellowed at the cockpit.
“I…I can’t do it!” the pilot responded.
“Light that son of a bitch up!” Izzy commanded Hoss. The large man refused to move.
“They are under the power of Dragos, as are we,” Jessica explained. She also stood in place. Izzy found she could not take action either.
“Pilot, move the craft closer. Use all of your skill to hold it steady. All other occupants, step into my throne room and remain still once here. After your passengers have exited, crash your craft into the Hudson River,” Dragos ordered.
Jessica, Hoss, and Izzy exited as commanded. Once they were clear of the craft, it dutifully flew away.
“You are going to pay for that,” Izzy said, trembling. She strained to look at the departing craft but was held immobile.
“No. I am going to take Ms. Luvkrafft with me for experimentation, but first I will replenish myself with the blood of you two fools,” Dragos said,
moving toward Izzy and Hoss. “Then I will visit Drake’s pathetic utopia and wipe out every living and undead being there in retaliation for this affront.” Grabbing Izzy’s head, he tilted it to the side. She closed her eyes, waiting for the sharp fangs to bite deep into her artery.
“Oh my God…” Jessica gasped, horror in her voice. Dragos paused a moment to regard the young woman. She was staring at something behind the vampire, fear in her eyes. A large shadow fell across the vampire. “Var —” he began before a large, furred fist connected with his chin, sending him crashing into the ceiling. He landed on his feet thirty feet away, wiping a spot of blood away from his mouth.
“No…” he whispered, staring at the monstrosity before him.
Once again, a large werewolf stood towering before the vampire lord. It was slightly smaller and leaner than Varulf. Dark brown fur glistened and reflected under still-swaying overhead lights. Steely muscles contracted and strained, the striations in the tissue clearly visible in areas where the wolf’s fur was thinner. The creature stared at its clawed hands, opening and closing them. Strange, glowing runes covered them.
“Sverre, no!” Jessica cried out.
The beast looked up at the mention of the name. “J-Jess?” it growled. Touching its throat, it appeared confused by the sound of its own voice.
Dragos laughed, crossing the room to rejoin the group. “This is magnificent! The stupid beast attempted to kill you to thwart my plans, but instead merely passed the curse to you. The transformation saved your life. It has all worked out in my favor.”
“Grr, I wouldn’t say that,” Sverre countered, smiling to expose a mouth full of deadly fangs.
“Child, please. No more nonsense. Varulf was an annoyance, and I’ve entertained you enough tonight. Sverre and Jessica, come with me. I want you other two to jump —” Dragos started to command, but Sverre moved quickly, slashing across the vampire’s chest with his new, natural claws.
“I order you to stop!” Dragos directed, flustered.
“Now I know why Varulf stayed a wolf the whole time,” said Sverre, taking a step forward.
“I would not have guessed you would gain immunity to my power so quickly after assuming your animal form. Regardless, just as his attacks were useless, you will find the same. A mere werewolf is as much threat to me as a small toddler is to an adult human. Come with me willingly if you want these others to live,” Dragos threatened.
Sverre licked his fingers. “I’m not sure I’d call my attack ‘useless.’”
Dragos looked down at his chest. Long, angry, bloody gashes traced across the angelic porcelain muscle. The tattered remnants of his finery flapped in the breeze from the cool night sky.
“Impossible!”
Sverre walked forward, raising both hands high above his head, bringing both arms down upon the vampire. Dragos caught his wrists, stopping the blow completely. Sverre lashed out with his leg, but Dragos jumped backward to avoid it.
“Your attacks have become clumsy. Where is the warrior prowess of the martial artists from earlier? Is it because your new form is now alien to you, or because your spirits have abandoned you?”
Sverre paused, thinking. He wasn’t sure of the answer himself. He noticed Jessica moving toward Dragos, unable to resist his last command to follow him. The vampire lord grinned, moving to intercept her.
“No!” Sverre shouted, exploding across the room. Tackling the vampire, he drove him into a wall, grabbing his wrists.
“I will make you a bargain. Come with me, subject yourself to my plan, and I will leave Jessica, your friends, and Drake’s compound alone forevermore,” Dragos hissed, straining against Sverre’s mass. “Refuse me, and I will slaughter them here and now, then I will —”
A flood of strength flowed through Sverre at the thought of his friends being harmed. He squeezed hard. Dragos’ wrists cracked, beginning to splinter. Dragos inhaled sharply, unused to such intense pain. A wicked grin spread across Sverre’s face.
“I think I know one difference between Varulf and me. His rage was limited to his own. My rage is fueled by thousands!” he shouted, pressing Dragos into the stone wall, crushing the breath from him. The vampire’s ribs creaked and groaned, fracturing. For a second, it seemed as if he would be compacted flat under Sverre’s force. He recalled those days walking across the bottom of the seas. The crushing pressures of the ocean’s depths were meager in comparison to the force administered by his current foe. Desperate, he bit deeply into Sverre’s neck, forcing the young werewolf to release him.
Dragos kicked off the wall, diving for the nearby Jessica, but Sverre’s large hand lashed out, grabbing the vampire’s trailing arm. Twisting, Sverre flung the vampire over his head in an arc, slamming him into the ground. Everyone else in the room fell to the ground from the shock wave.
Dragos rolled to his feet, lunging at Sverre. His flailing attacks ripped one of the werewolf’s ears off. While Sverre was distracted, the vampire drove several fingers deep into Sverre’s chest. Howls of pain echoed across the room. The strength and speed of the vampire was such that if Sverre wasn’t careful, he’d find his limbs or head ripped free before he could react.
“You are one of the strongest foes I have ever faced, but I have fought hundreds of battles. You are a mere boy. Subduing you in this form will be a true test of my mettle. You are fortunate that I require your living body, or you would have ended up like Varulf by now,” Dragos bragged, motioning at the scattered remains that decorated the walls and floors of the room. The throne room now resembled a nightmarish slaughterhouse.
Sverre focused past his injuries, once again grabbing the vampire’s wrist, pulling it free from the gaping holes in his chest. The pain of his wounds fueled his anger, increasing his strength. Wrenching upward, he snapped the vampire’s forearm, bending it back at a ninety-degree angle. Dragos screamed in agony.
“Someone once told me that dragging out a fight with a werewolf is the last thing you want to do, because they just get stronger the madder you make them,” Sverre said, slicing across the vampire’s face with his claws. Dragos smothered the wounds on his face with his hands, pulling them away to reveal dripping blood. His face was a mixture of rage and disbelief.
Sverre inspected his own wounds, running his hands along his torn ear and pierced chest. The damage was nearly healed already.
“If this comes down to my life or yours — rest assured, I will kill you,” Dragos seethed, wiping the blood away from his face. His broken arm flopped uselessly at his side. Sverre breathed a sigh of relief that vampires apparently didn’t have the same enhanced healing he enjoyed. He really should have studied more when he was stationed at the Farm.
“Hoss. Hoss!” Izzy whispered. The big man attempted to move, but was unable to. The vampire’s control over him remained unbroken. “Guess I’ll do it myself,” she sighed. Closing her eyes, she concentrated. After a few moments, her body collapsed upon the floor. Seconds later, she revived, confused by her surroundings. “Where…what the hell is going on?” she asked before her attention was drawn to the massive battle across the room. “Holy…wait…I remember now. We came here to rescue…then the ship got hit…but how the hell did we get in here?” she wondered, moving to Hoss.
She found she could not recall what had happened since Sverre exited the aircraft. She deduced that she must have used her power on herself, wiping the last few minutes of her memory, a risky maneuver that could have resulted in wiping more than just a few minutes. She must have been under the control of the vampire in order to use such an extreme measure. She did the same to Hoss, hoping she didn’t wipe out anything important. A minute later, he recovered, still groggy.
“Hoss, I had to wipe a bit of your memory to get you out from the vampire’s control. We’ve got to get the hell out of here,” she said.
Sverre noticed the pair moving to escape. “Izzy! Take Jessica with you!” he shouted, straining to hold the vampire.
“Sverre? What happened to you?” she
gasped, shocked that the beast was the same young man she’d come to rescue earlier.
“Just grab Jessica and go!” he said with a growl, sweat and blood matting his fur. The vicious fight had left both combatants exhausted, bloodied, and bruised. Dragos would need to feed soon to repair his injuries. It was best if the room was empty when that happened. Jessica continued to move slowly toward the vampire, still entranced.
“Release her!” Sverre ordered, wrestling the vampire to the ground. Sverre flipped around quickly, placing the vampire in a spinal lock hold. Sverre’s leg wrapped around the back of the vampire’s head while his arms pulled the vampire’s left arm.
“I…will…not,” Dragos uttered, fighting against the maneuver. Sverre brought down his leg with full force, threatening to snap the vampire’s neck. Even with leverage, he was sure he didn’t have the strength to do it, but the pain from Dragos’ end was excruciating.
“I…release…you, Jessica,” Dragos said, relenting.
Coming to her senses, Jessica searched the room. “Sverre!” she shouted, stepping forward.
“No! Run, Jess! I’ll hold him!”
Taking advantage of the distraction, Dragos drove his free elbow deep into Sverre’s ribcage. The entire section caved in completely. Sverre gasped as his lung collapsed, pierced by the broken bones. Dragos rose to his feet, stomping Sverre several times, breaking his shin, femur, and forearm. Dragos’ damage output was threatening to overwhelm him, just as it had with Varulf. Fear replaced anger.
“You may not be aware, but werewolves have one glaring weakness. If subjected to enough pain, they may pass out and revert to their human form,” Dragos explained, strategically attacking Sverre’s weak points.
“Get over here!” Izzy shouted, catching Jessica’s attention. The Stalker assessed the situation unfolding in front of her, then raced to the open door. There was nothing that could be done in the face of such unyielding power.
Dragos turned to the fleeing humans, drawing in breath to speak. Sverre whipped his undamaged leg around, sweeping the vampire from his feet. Sverre rolled over on top of him, punching his face with enough force that the stone behind the vampire’s head cracked. Sverre wasn’t sure what it would take to kill Dragos, but if he didn’t find a way soon, they would all perish. Then he recalled the stake from earlier. It would have worked if not for the hyper-dense skin protecting Dragos.
