Claudiva arrived at the Count’s Castle at the stroke of midnight.
She gave thought to everything they had been through together as she stepped before his large doors.
At first they were young lovers, passionate and true to one another. It was then she learned that he had made a pact with the devil, one that ended with her changed; such an event would alter her life forever. He had become her maker, she his creation.
The striking, tall redhead was a singer and performer, a famous one at that. It was her dream to travel the world showcasing such natural skill. She was infamous already. He attended her performances, watching her, and that was when she fell in love with him.
It had been so long since they had seen each other. The differences the two of them dealt with simply had torn them apart. He wanted solitude and, after such change, she wanted the entire world.
Drakko’s one vise was that he still could not resist the feminine touch of the species, whereas she desired one man; him.
For all that had happened, she knew shame overtook him and their relationship had faltered, not merely because of his continuous ‘flirtations’, but because they saw the world differently.
Yet today she was here, and she needed to speak with him. Claudiva, a master performer in song and dance, attempted to gather herself now and adjust her long black dress and top hat. This was an important performance to be. She was nervous, and it was not an emotion she had experienced in decades. He did this to her. She redid her red silk scarf and felt more prepared to face him.
She knew many ways into his castle; several choices came to mind. She might choose vapor and slide under a crack here or there or, better yet, fly up and enter via the roof trapdoor. But this day she chose normality and used the main double doors.
The door opened at her first knock and she thus entered.
It was soon she strode to the study where the count lounged in a high back leather chair reading; he, naturally, knew she had arrived. Reading glasses perched on his aristocratic nose and a crimson red robe adorned his body.
For the first time in too long their eyes met. He gazed at her to note she was still ravishing in appearance. He gently laid his book upon a table and removed his glasses.
“Well, well, it has been long since I have seen the diva, and I must say you are as beautiful as ever you were.”
She blushed at his words. He was never one to hold back on compliments.
“I must add I am surprised you even knocked.”
This was not the opportune time to discuss trivial matters; Claudiva could sense the council’s intent; if not them, others would soon be coming to take his life. The others she was not so sure of whom they could be.
She ambled over gracefully and sat on his lap. “You are aware there are those coming for you?”
Count Rothchild smiled. “I do.”
Before he could say more, Claudiva leaned in and slid over him on the chair, straddling his thighs.
His recent desires for Gaylen had him in a constant erotic state; he had held back, but now this.
Claudiva tore the count’s robe off, and he grinned stating, “How did I know you would do that.”
Then he ripped her dress away, showing her his reaction. She mounted him on the chair once more, and together, like the days of old, they became one. She cried out as to have wanted such passion with him, a yearning he could feel from her moistness and trembling skin.
“Oh, yes,” she sighed, “you were always my one and only, yes, take me fully, take me.”
He soon lifted her right up from the chair, the two still interconnected, her legs now wrapped around him, he holding her up by her buttocks. It was a passionate embrace; together again, the one-time lovers arched their bodies in ultimate pleasure.
He then took her to a long table and entered her from behind. He reached up, grasping her long, thick red hair, and both he and she wailed out in both pleasure and pain of lost love held back. They soon rolled about face to face, kissing madly and gnawing at each other’s necks. Again they kissed feverishly, licking each other’s lips with probing tongues. They made love, immortal love in its truest form.
Soon exhausted, the two laid naked on the table itself. It was not until nearly twenty minutes later that the count sat up.
The diva’s body was flush and pink. He leaned down and caressed her cheek. “It wasn’t that I didn’t love you. We were different; I needed the solitude and you the infamy. I knew it could not work. But, I want you to know, there was love. Seeing you on stage took my breath away each and every time.” He then announced, “I want you to know those that desire to see me gone are now close.”
Claudiva sat up. She heard his words, but did not fear such an outcome; she knew it would be in their favor. She had been all over the world since their separation, yet felt at home at his side even still.
“The reason I came here is because I want to be together, if not as lovers true, as comrades as to what is to come.”
Drakko was not sure what she meant, thus he shrugged.
“Listen to me,” she demanded. “The Crim have decided that it is time to restore our creator, she or he being your family’s creator. Don’t you care?”
Count Rothchild thought such claim was preposterous. The Crim, an ancient vampire coven, was always up to no good.
The Diva explained, “They are in the process of taking the essence of your father’s first creations and blending them together to bring such a being back into existence. This is serious, Drakko!”
Drakko frowned. “That’s impossible.”
She was not getting through to him. “You are either going to be with us or against us!”
The count now knew she was with the Crim. He gave her a puzzled look. “And what do you think this will bring upon the land? Nothing but death, I say. I have seen enough of such for a thousand lifetimes and I do not want any part of such a planning.”
Claudiva sighed. “You must know, if you do not join with their grand plan, you will be sought out and eventually destroyed.”
“So much for my own solitude,” replied Rothchild. “In fact, those who would seek to destroy me are on their way now and it has nothing to do with your organization of Nosferatu.”
Claudiva raised an eyebrow. “Whom are you talking about?”
The count hesitated in telling her more. She would be jealous of his time with Gaylen, and the men approaching were acting in her manner.
He held his tongue.
Claudiva then stood and dressed. “If you wish for me to help you with those seeking you in this present, I am willing to do such. I ask only that you think deeply about what is to come, for there is no means I may save you if you are aligned against master Manfred and the Crim.”
Ah, Manfred, thought Rothchild, the eldest of his kin and the one closest to his age. He would debate on such a villain later on. The two had never seen eye to eye.
He now prepared in thought for those approaching. The daytime would be when they attacked. The hunters would look for him where the bard had found him, surely in the chapel high above, be it in his coffin. He had another plan for them; a surprise they would not be expecting.
Claudiva came close to him once they both were fully clothed. “If you do not need my help, I will say my goodbyes now.” She then took his hand in hers. “At one time I was simply a young girl madly in love with you. I will never forget those days. You gave me great courage and made me believe I could conquer anything. I sang for you and every performance I looked for you thereafter in the crowd or outside.”
She took a deep breath, looking at him, and smiled. “I loved those days.” She kissed him one last time. “I do not hold against you what you did to save my life, and I only dream still of what could have been. I will love you until the end of time.”
After such words, she turned and left the castle.
Drakko Del Rothchild watched as she left. A lump formed in his throat as to what might have been. Yet she was not the young girl he
once knew. She was a suicidal maniac, be it a darn sensual one. She would never be satisfied in living far away from people. She needed attention and what they had would never work. He knew it long ago.
He now summoned his servants, those being the undead in the dark shadows of his keep. They had work to do as to putting his plan in motion.
He returned to the main hallway to peek out a window for to see her one last time, but she was long gone down the courtyard by then. Yet, as he backed away from the window, there she stood, still inside.
“You have gotten better,” he proclaimed.
She grinned. “You taught me well.” She then added, “We could have had a good life together. I think we still could.”
Love was his curse and it would have ended in sorrow if he had continued their love affair. “Every time I have tried to love someone, it was not meant to be. I do love you, but we have chosen different paths now.”
He came to her and kissed her on the forehead, whispering in her ear afterward. “Take care of yourself.”
Claudiva was about ready to again convince him to join the Crim, the organization of their kin, a group ready to come out and change the world. Yet she did not. She left this time, saying no more.
Gaylen Van Warden was too stubborn. She now stood on the deck of a large ship on the way to Teevas Isle. She worked and worked at convincing the men that her help would be needed. She knew the route, the island, the castle. She would stay outside if need be, she would not stop until they accepted her as one of the team on a mission to end Count Rothchild.
Yet, her heart felt awkward at such a notion. He was not the animal they made him out to be. He was different, even sometimes nice, she would give him that.
She would have to hide her neck wound still; the added concern was too much at this time. Even Jonathan had not realized it was of an issue; her makeup and trickery had fooled him.
He now joined her on the deck as the sun set. “What are you up to, my dear? The evening is upon us and I must say the sky is beautiful, not unlike you. Your hair is glowing in the light and your eyes are sparkling.”
The blonde-haired bard smiled. She was dealing with inner turmoil at such a trip, yet her Jonathan was now with her and she felt better knowing he was about.
He came to her and held her in his arms.
She smiled up at him. “I’m glad you are by my side. To have to go back is somewhat terrifying.”
Jonathan held her tighter. “Everything will be fine, Gaylen, trust me.”
Together they enjoyed some quiet time as the merchant ship sailed on beyond the horizon. She had that feeling in the pit of her belly and it was not going to go away.
The next evening, twenty-four hours after the moment the couple had shared, a green, eerily glowing ship appeared far off to the right of their own vessel.
A ghost-like boat steered straight at them.
The small crew called for those on board to take positions.
Gaylen’s wound, which none knew about, still was hidden behind her high-neck, white poet-like blouse; little did she know her world was changing from such. As she came on deck once again, she could see further than expected, gazing at the weird greenish ship approaching. The sounds were also louder all about as the captain of their ship yelled out orders. She suddenly had a taste for blood as well, for red meat.
What in the world was happening to her, and why all of a sudden? She was truly concerned, but did not wish to worry everyone regarding her well-being.
The entire crew was on deck now. She kept herself to the side.
A light rain came from the sky. Golden lightning crackled moments later. Closer now came the eerie ship. There appeared to be no one on board.
They were unable to outrun this vessel, so they would await the heavy winds to let such draw in to them.
“There are no men on it!” bellowed a crewman. Then another called out, “I cannot see a single person on board, the ship has been abandoned.”
The captain then claimed that any not steered vessel would become the property of the king, thus it was his duty to search such.
It was no longer green as it closed in. The fading sunlight perhaps was playing tricks on all. The large ship drifted their way and soon came before them. Grappling hooks were tossed out and the new vessel was captured.
From under the water, clinging to the so-called ghost ship, rotted and swollen men climbed up on board the very ship Gaylen was on. These sea zombies tore at the crew and captain as if they had planned such an attack.
Oscar Van Helsing held up his coveted cross engraved with the lightning bolts of Zeus, screaming for the monstrosities to leap back into the water. Alfredo had his rapier at the ready and jammed it into those coming toward him.
The terror went on for a bit as men were pulled overboard crying out in terror. More and more of these bloated and dammed monsters crawled up on the ship to overwhelm the crew and passengers.
A few broke through to Jonathan, who fought them off with a broad knife. He was double and then tripled teamed at one point, as the zombies, those full of festering seaweed-like wounds and pus, prepared to toss him over the rail.
Gaylen moved to a safer spot, watching in fright at the end of the ship where no such skirmish was taking place.
Emin ripped one away from him and Alfredo came about now slashing and stabbing the others. The sailors hardy and true, those who lived on sea boats and worked hard, all fought with resounding effort. Soon the abominations from the sea were defeated and everyone began to breathe sighs of relief.
Yet, near the end of such a fight, in the midst of throwing these greenish blue creatures over the ship’s side, a gigantic bat flew down and seized Gaylen by her shoulders. No one had noticed such in time to fight the flying threat, and soon it was soaring away out over the darkening sea.
There was nothing anyone could do but watch her be taken. Jonathan screamed out as he witnessed his beloved stolen away.
Later, as the bat landed clutching Gaylen on the far shore of the island of Teevas, it watched as a black and orange, silvery-scaled mermaid appeared upon a rocky outcrop near the shoreline before them. She nodded at the gigantic bat as if she was a servant who had done well.
“It was as you expected, and you’re welcome,” she announced in a raspy tone. “I love a good sea battle; it’s always a good time.”
The bat nodded at its charmed minion, and then took off into the night sky once more, still clutching Gaylen.
Back on the merchant ship, Van Helsing knew they were now in over their heads with the loss of Gaylen; he assumed the worst. Not only would they have to attempt to slay the vampire lord, they would have to rescue her as well.
Jonathan was adamant that they had to move quickly and was a knot of stress the rest of the sea voyage. Professor Van Helsing debated long a plan, yet it was not an easy task. The circumstances were confusing. He gathered the others together to discuss more.
“Gentlemen, with the sudden alteration to our plan, I shall say there is an old insane asylum I know about on a small island to the Northeast. It is there I believe a set of hidden tools exist that could help us with our mission. Let me make this clear; these are weapons, strong magical weapons, and we need them.”
The others, the physician Emin Stewart, Alfredo and Jonathan, all gulped at such words. This venture was insanity. Yet all agreed such items would be a great advantage if they were to recover them. Jonathan, however, did not wish to deviate from their route, desiring rather to sail directly to find this Rothchild. The others worked hard at convincing him the weapons would aid them.
Thus this small island was now their destination before heading to Teevas. Jonathan slept little on board thinking about such items and wondering why they had not even spoke of such before. Gaylen’s safety had already sent him in a spiral of maddening visions and concerns. He was a mess! He would use such a magical item and put an end to this monster. It was the only thought that kept his sanity intact.
From th
e Journal of Jonathan Hartwell
I sit on a ship weary now and unsettled. The constant rocking at sea has seen me take ill, yet I hold on. My beloved soul mate taken by supernatural means; it has shaken me utterly.
The man is a horrid beast, as spoken of by Mr. Van Helsing, and he haunts me now never-ending. What is it that he wants with my Gaylen?
I’m sick overboard again, it will not end.
Back now; my throat is sore from the retching.
My head is filled with him touching her, lusting after her untaken body. I want to rip my face off, the pain will not subside.
If it is to be my end, I must destroy this monster; him Lucy’s murderer, we all believe now as well. The good professor has assured me we will soon have the necessary tools to offer his demise. Those details keep me motivated. I shall take up the grandest of magical swords and remove Rothchild’s head myself.
Oh, Gaylen, why did I ever let you go? Never again; once I have you back in my arms, I will never ever let you go.
I ask God Almighty to guide me now, he is my only salvation.
Upon arriving at his castle, the count took Gaylen, who was barely aware, to her guest room and placed her once again on the canopy bed. She was still somewhat dazed, until she noticed his long, tipped fingernails easing her hair back from her face.
She pulled away, sitting up. Everything had happened so fast. The sound outside was a melody of wolf howls singing chorus to them inside.
The count gave a wicked smile. “Yes, my children sing your sweet music to us, sing it ever so loudly.” He waved his hands about as if directing their howling song.
“What is it that you will do to me?” Gaylen then asked bravely. She had a most concerned look now. “Am I but again a prisoner to you?”
The count’s eyes opened rather wide; she then saw his teeth grow ever longer as he lowered himself at her.
“Perhaps I shall rip your clothes off and take you, devour your body and soul, and finally taste your virgin blood.”
Count Rothchild Page 7
