Abel hurled himself at the vampire standing over his brother. Dracula resisted, trying in vain to gain flight, while hearing the cheers and jeers of all the surrounding pack. The two combatants tumbled and rolled briefly, before the vampire found himself pinned flat on his stomach. The black wolf was even heavier than the white, and slightly stronger. Certainly he was overflowing with an awesome rage, and Dracula was growing weaker by the second. His storm clouds were being dispersed by the sun’s light. His army was utterly destroyed and in tatters across the bloody ground.
Now his face was pressed hard into the ground. He screamed and cursed as he felt his wings being torn from his back. His arms and legs flailed, but the effort availed him nothing. He was outmatched. Overpowered. He knew he should have swallowed his pride and flown away while he’d had the chance.
Staring death in the face, Dracula reacted with a rage all his own, gathered all of his remaining energy, and poured it into one great effort to free himself. Letting go of the storm completely, he burned the last of his strength in one furious burst. He struggled and rolled onto his back and grasped with both arms for one of the wolf’s forelegs. Momentarily he caught one leg and gave it a twist, just before darkness closed around him.
The wolf had clamped his massive jaws around his head, and now he saw nothing but teeth and gums and darkness. The pressure of the wolf’s bite was horrific. His head was being reshaped, as if made of clay. He squeezed and twisted the wolf’s leg with all his might, feeling his own head being hopelessly crushed, the fangs slowly sinking into the skull, and the entire head being slowly pulled away from his neck at the same time. It was a scalding pain so intense that it robbed him of the strength to harm his foe. It was the pain he’d inflicted on others being multiplied and returned to him in one horrific moment.
Snarling, seething through clamped jaws, Abel pushed down hard against the vampire with both forepaws. He was mashing the creature down into the earth under his weight, while using the muscles of his neck to pull at his grotesque head. He pushed and gripped tighter and pulled harder. Every muscle in his great body was flexing in ripples. He could feel the creature being crushed and stretched to the point of breaking. Yet he felt no pity. He would not bargain and would not relent until this threat was banished from the Earth. It was not his way.
With a strangled scream Dracula felt the last of his life faltering. His body was being broken as his head was being torn off. His voice failed. His energy ceased. Black blood rushed out of his neck.
A moment of relative silence fell amid the large circle of watching wolves.
Abel stood back from the twitching corpse and spat the head out onto the ground. Looking round at all the wolves in their wide circle, he noted that many were injured and most were bloodied. The sun’s light grew ever stronger, and under its rays the vampire’s broken body slowly degraded to ash in the shape of a corpse. Then Abel looked to his brother, who was battered and dirty and standing painfully on three legs.
“You will heal,” he said with a deep and sandy growl. “And you will be stronger for it.”
“I will,” Joseph agreed. “My deepest thanks.”
Abel kicked dirt at the ashy corpse with has hind legs, like a dog amid a territorial ritual, and said, “You may thank me by removing this filth from my territory. Burn every scrap of these wretched slugs.”
That said, he turned and passed through the parting crowd of wolves.
“Wait!” Evie called after him, now standing at her grandfather’s side. “Come back! This is the perfect chance for us all to set aside our differences and have a big family hug.”
The old loner’s only reply was to laugh in his growling manner as his dark frame joined the shadows of the trees.
***
It was just after seven in the morning when Evie rose and took the Dracula book down to the study. Her grandfather was at his desk, reading over something or another. She walked over beside him and grabbed his arm and examined it.
“Morning,” he said, looking curiously at her.
“You’re okay.”
“Right as the rain. Yourself?”
“Oh, nothing,” she said. “Just a creepy dream.”
He looked at the book and smiled.
“I wasn’t all myself in my dream,” she explained. “I was disrespectful to you and I’m sorry. Even though you told me in the dream that you had no hard feelings, I’m still sorry. Because later, I was afraid something would happen to you. And …”
He nodded, almost knowingly, and said, “Maybe tonight you should choose a story with a lighter theme.”
“No worries there,” she said. “I’m never reading another vampire book again. At most I might watch The Lost Boys with Mom. Well before bedtime.”
“The one thing about modern fiction I never could stomach,” Joseph said. “All the damn vampires.”
Special Features
Interview (Cast & Author)
Paul and Lester Snow burst through the front door of the oak house, roughly herding three men. One man wore a fancy suit and the other two, dressed plainly, held camera and sound equipment. The one in the fancy suit was Gorge Snuffleupagus.
“Father,” said Paul. “We caught these men sneaking around the property after asking a lot of questions at the restaurant.”
“I’d greatly appreciate a quick interview,” blurted the reporter. “Please. Give me ten minutes.”
“At ease,” Joseph Snow said to his sons. “Take the equipment from the men and let Mr. Hippopotamus have a seat.”
Everyone congregated in the great room. Janie was humming the tune of I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas. The sliding glass door was opened so that Abel could join the interview without lowering himself to enter a human structure. He glared at the strange men and growled low, but he said nothing, because at that point he had very little understanding of current journalists. Evie was obviously nervous. After all the author had recently put her through, she couldn’t help being afraid of what might happen next. She didn’t have the patience for a love triangle or being kidnapped or something like that.
“Don’t worry,” Shawn told her. “I’m done picking on you for a while. You can just cruise for a bit.”
“No cameras, no recorders,” the journalist said, sitting across from the family. “May I jot some notes?”
“If it makes you happy,” Joseph answered, staring the man down.
Gorge nodded and said, “I’ll get right to it. Regarding your series, I have to ask, why isn’t it a teenage romance series?”
“Why isn’t a golf ball a tennis ball?” Joseph returned.
“Okay, touchy subject,” said the journalist.
“None of the books are categorized or described as romance,” Shawn said. “If that’s not enough, skim a few of the reviews. Unless you’re Mulder or Scully, the truth isn’t that hard to find.”
Gorge nodded and scribbled a few notes. “Shawn, this story was a departure in tone from the rest of the series. Do you enjoy being perpetually sarcastic?”
“You noticed.”
“Why can’t you write about teenagers falling in love and saving the universe together?”
“Can you imagine having your arm chopped off by an axe?”
“I’d rather not. Why did you have Evie take a shot at Taylor S? You know it’s practically illegal not to be an adoring fan of hers.”
“It was a joke,” Shawn said. “I doubt she’ll hear about it from her castle in the clouds. And if she does, she’s free to make a joke about me. All she’s gotta do is make a crack about her income compared to mine.”
Gorge looked at Joseph. “How do you feel about Shawn introducing vampires into your lives?”
“I’m glad their gone.”
“What about readers?” Gorge pressed. “Many readers may feel sympathetic towards Dracula. Though he was described as a hideous bat creature turning his alleged victims into soldiers of darkness, perhaps he was beautiful on the inside. Maybe just misunderstood.”
/>
“Readers are free to feel at their own discretion,” Joseph said.
“Don’t you agree? Shouldn’t efforts be made to understand and accommodate the undead within the rest of society?”
“As with Stoker’s Dracula, our setting is within the real world,” Joseph said. “And we were dealing with Mr. Stoker’s style of vampire, not the more recent soap opera variety.”
“You don’t think society at large should embrace them?”
“I’d prefer to move on.”
“Am I understanding this correctly?” Gorge said. “Your attitude seems to suggest an implied superiority to the vampires.”
“Obviously I like wolves better than vampires,” Shawn answered for Joseph. “Blame me.”
Gorge turned to Shawn. “How do you think that makes vampires feel?”
Shawn shrugged.
“You could at least pretend to care.”
“Nah.”
“Okay, when you’re not writing I understand that you test classified military jets.”
“No comment.”
“Have you ever won any writing awards?”
“If it really matters, not since third grade.”
“That’s a long drought.”
“Get your jabs in while you can, buddy.”
“You don’t appreciate reporters much, do you?”
“I have nothing against the sort that actually report. I dislike the ones that ask stupid questions. How did you feel as you stood watching your house go up in flames? ‘Freaking great!’ And as you can guess, I can’t stand the passive aggressive journalists that ask loaded questions designed to make anyone that might disagree with them look stupid. It’s the post-modern way of starting a fight without risking a punch to the nose.”
“You think violence solves problems, Shawn?”
“Depends.”
“Can you back that up?”
“I’m from New England. We don’t send taxes across the pond to the crown anymore.”
Gorge looked at Evie and asked, “As one of the primary characters, how do you feel about being held back in pack status do to your age and gender?”
Her eyes rolled.
“Has my question made you uncomfortable?”
“Should I really be the new leader at sixteen?”
“Why not? It’s fiction.”
“By that reasoning, since it is only fiction, should the pack start flying in formation and honking like a flock of geese?”
“All of you stubbornly refuse to bend to my suggestions,” Gorge complained.
“Have you ever had to run for your life?” Evie returned.
Gorge ignored her and pressed, “Wouldn’t you prefer your life to go differently? Perhaps you could mate and reproduce sooner rather than later. Teen Wolf Mom. Then, maybe you could lose that mate in a tragic twist and end up being a single mother with eight pups to care for, all the while struggling to find the courage to dare to love again.”
“Evie looked at Shawn and almost growled, “I hope you have plans for this guy.”
Shawn nodded slowly.
Gorge looked back to Joseph. “Now, about your brother.”
“Fair warning,” said the elder Snow. “My brother can be a touchy subject.”
“Is there any way you could convince him to be more tolerant of humans?”
“Try yourself.”
“Maggot!” Abel snarled at him from the open doorway.
Gorge kept on facing Joseph and said, “I’ve noticed that you clearly favor antiquated reasoning compared to more modern ideas. Can you honestly justify your prejudice?”
“You disagree with my worldview.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Not in so many words, no. But your expression and posture say otherwise. That’s on top of the slight chemical change within your brain I detect on your scent. A seizure alert dog has nothing on my nose.”
“There’s no need to brag about your allegedly superior senses, sir.”
Joseph smiled and said, “I’ll do you the favor that journalists rarely return and I’ll answer you straight. Yes, obviously I favor the older philosophies. Partly because I believe them superior, and partly because I am old myself. You may label them antiquated as a means of discrediting them, while passively insulting me at the same time. That’s about the best strategy you could hope for in an impossible fight. In sum, I reject your weak notion altogether.”
“Am I not entitled to my opinions?” Gorge said.
“Of course. Gather your opinions in your left hand, sir. Then gather some horse droppings in your right hand, and tell me which hand weighs more. You think me an old fool for my devotion to older ideas. Well, you are free to hold that opinion. And, in fairness, perhaps you are unaware of the fact that our author has been greatly influenced by older writers who managed to engage and entertain their readers, while also enlightening them.”
“Fiction should only entertain,” Gorge said. “Enlightenment should only come through journalists.”
“Some very prolific writers disagree,” Joseph said. “Dickens, Hemingway, Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Conan Doyle.”
“Duly noted.”
“Of course you don’t respect them, or the writers who influenced them. They didn’t even use cellular phones. How could they possibly compete with twenty-first century journalists?”
“Next question,” Gorge said.
“There will be no happy end to this conversation,” Joseph warned. “Why continue?”
“I will not be intimidated, sir.”
“Very well. Allow me to elaborate my antiquated ideas. I could mention the old joke about those living in glass houses throwing stones. Or I could simply ask you how you arrived here in this nowhere town.”
“We flew,” Gorge answered defensively. “Clearly I don’t have four legs and paws to run fast on. Someone of your supposed intelligence and experience must surely understand that.”
“Manned flight is significantly older than yourself, Gorge. How antiquated of you.”
“I don’t think I appreciate your tone.”
“Have you ever ridden in a car, sir?”
“What sort of question is that?” Gorge snapped.
“Have you?”
“Of course I have. There’s no need to insult me.”
“You don’t mind being carried atop four antiquated inventions known as wheels?”
“Sir,” Gorge said firmly, visibly agitated. “You are a wolf, which is arguably the most polarizing animal in the world. How dare you question me and my rights when your kind is known for killing?”
“How about those fancy shoes?” Joseph returned. “Did those come from a calf that cheerfully volunteered its hide to be stretched on behalf of your feet?”
“Shoes can’t be produced magically.”
“And wolves must feed themselves, since they are excluded from all salad bars and buffets.”
Gorge sighed. “My remarks were only meant to make you look bad, not myself.”
“Clearly,” Joseph returned. “And as to your vicious wolf stance, how many Americans would you estimate have been killed by wolves this week, compared to those killed by other humans?”
“That’s an unfair comparison.”
“How so?”
“It leaves me with no legitimate response. All I can do is resort to my emotions and perhaps pin an unflattering label on you.”
“Shall we shake hands and quit?” Joseph asked.
“Wolves have scary teeth,” Gorge said. “Justify that.”
“And vampires don’t? You love them so much.”
Gorge shook his head.
Joseph resumed, “The last time I checked, more people are hospitalized monthly for bad reactions to vitamins than have ever been hospitalized as a result of wolf attacks. Please rationalize your stance on wolves, sir, so that I may better understand you.”
“I guess this interview is over,” Gorge said.
“Of course. Take your baseball and run home if th
e opposing pitcher refuses to lob you an easy homerun.”
“Fleas and ticks,” gorge said in his bitchiest tone yet. “Do they pose a problem for the pack?”
“Keep on slinging that mud,” Joseph returned calmly. “Work yourself deeper into the muck.”
Gorge looked to an imaginary camera and said, “Let’s take a quick commercial break.”
Nothing changed. There was no fade to commercial with peppy music. Only silence and thinly veiled hostility.
“I appreciate your time,” Gorge said to Joseph. “Now, if you could have your sons return us to your airstrip, we’ll be on our way.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Joseph said, rising from the couch.
“And just why is that?”
“Your chartered helicopter is being disassembled for parts as we speak. It is of no practical use to you now.”
The journalist swallowed hard, looking around at all the family.
“Come along,” Joseph said, helping the man stand from his chair. He took his notepad and directed him to the porch.
“You can’t be serious,” the journalist said.
“Deadly,” Joseph returned. “But do not despair, Mr. Tippingapplecarts. Your two friends, along with your pilots, probably being paid a fraction of your salary in exchange for their risk, will be offered a chance to relocate to Hawaii. That’s after signing a strict nondisclosure contract, of course. I’m sure they’ll gladly accept the offer.”
The two men in the kitchen were nodding with wide eyes, though Gorge couldn’t see them.
“And me? D-d-don’t I get to go to Hawaii?”
“Murder is disgraceful, even within the animal kingdom,” Joseph explained. “Unfortunately for you, our survival depends largely on secrecy. That means that the defense of our territory is a just cause for the death of a foe. In short, no, you’re not going to Hawaii.”
“B-b-but I’m no foe. I can keep my mouth shut.”
“Ah, if only I could trust you,” Joseph returned as they stepped onto the porch. Mere feet separated them from Abel. The ill-tempered old wolf rolled out his tongue and bared his teeth in a menacing smile.
“Please, you can’t just let your G’mork brother kill me.”
“He’s inspired by G’mork, not exactly like him,” Joseph clarified. “Furthermore, in truth Abel’s less patient and less willing to explain himself to a perceived enemy. He certainly can’t be stopped by a boy with a sharp stone.”
Vampire's Tomb Page 7
