Dracula: Hearts of Stone

    Copyright A. J. Gallant   ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER ONE

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    THE SUICIDE RATE had never been higher, and the city’s morale never lower.

    The New York night was alive with traffic and harsh noises; it was brighter than the stars in the sky and almost as beautiful. The city’s massive buildings made some people feel inconsequential and a little like mice. The bright lights were overwhelming to first-time visitors. The place seemed a bit like a monster to tourists from small towns or those accustomed to the country life as if being swallowed by a monster. And from space the metropolis was alive and kicking as it marched toward its unknown destiny. There was no other city quite as fascinating to explore, a unique heartbeat that sometimes pounded. Genuine treasures were there to discover if one looked hard enough. Stretch limos held actors from the stage and the big screen. The traffic was both maddening and intriguing.

    It was a city scrutinized by the whole world.

    But now there was an atmosphere of fear and unpleasantness. Faces were stressed and uncomfortable, what horrible news would they hear next. Multiple sirens wailed from different parts of the city. Dreams were shattered, and minds set to oblivion. Thoughts were racing with unpleasant scenarios of horror. Nightmare scenarios were numerous. Vampires were eating police officers like cats ate mice. Hearts torn between hoping for a better future and fearing a future that would perhaps be ever more corrupt and ruthless, and even those who did have hope it was almost always suspect of being false. The future was thought headed for a harsh existence where one’s life was almost sure to be cut short without notice of ill health. It was trying times of suspect and confusion. Was one’s neighbor a vicious vampire waiting to pounce?

    No one was going to remember 2011 as a good year. The weather added discomfort to an already uncomfortable situation, because with the humidity it felt as if it was over a hundred degrees, and combined with the pollution that hung over the area it made for a restless evening. Perspiration slid down hot and frightened faces as every unfamiliar sound was suspect. The wind was light and ineffective. The unforgiving nature of the weather was torturous. The statue of liberty would have jumped in the water to cool off if she could have managed it.

    “Henry, I think I see something in that shadow.”

    “Lydia, if they’re gonna get ya, they’re gonna get ya, and that’s all there is to it.”

    Rolling blackouts added to the despair, with the dark never more gloomy. Vampires were knocking out power grids to make the night that much darker and challenging, and to facilitate the hunting of humans. It was always morning before workers dared to venture out. And six or seven hours without electricity to power the air conditioners seemed like days.

    Vampire sheriffs were patrolling the night, but unfortunately they were outnumbered. Their presence in certain areas appeared to be enough for the evil biters to avoid those areas, but they had insufficient numbers to cover such a large city. Their valor and dedication admired by many, yet some were even suspicious of their ultimate motives. The bad ones avoided the areas where it was likely that red sheriffs patrolled, and some could actually sense the sheriffs, where others had to rely on word of mouth to avoid those areas. Dracula’s sheriffs banded together when necessary, dedicated to protecting humans from the monsters that prowled seeking their blood.

    It appeared that evil vampires were being created every single day, and even though plenty of good biters also existed, they were also being looked at through apprehensive eyes. People wondered if it was possible for the good to turn evil. The scales of justice were unbalanced because of all the unsolved murders. Hearts pounded at the realization that vampires were not only real but in their neighborhood. Some worked in stores and even tended their children. They checked against the myriad of vampires wanted for murder.

    “Look at that!” said the old man to his wife near the Broadway theater, having just watched The Lion King. He kicked the skeletal remains to the side. “That wasn’t there when we went inside. New York is going to hell with those crazy vampires.”

    Some days more than fifty people were being slaughtered in New York City alone. Wanted posters were turning into wanted novelettes. An atmosphere of anxiety and uneasiness was smothering many cities and towns throughout the world. Vampires had made themselves known and weren’t about to remain inconspicuous entities any longer. Special cameras to detect the vampires were popping up everywhere and were now big business; even some vampires had invested in them; it just made good business sense.

    The brutes slunk into the night like rapists on the prowl for fresh young meat. Every shadow contained the possibility of death and horrible mutilation. Here there were genuine monsters that waited for an opportunity, no special effects required. Some wouldn’t wait, or couldn’t wait, preferring to take their possibilities and turn them into probabilities. Someone was always foolish enough to wander the streets after dark as if walking in a group made any difference to vampires. It was simply food for six instead of one. The people of New York, in particular, were a stubborn breed and not inclined to be bullied, even by vampires. But the numbers were adding up, and the people were insisting that the government do something to stop them.

    A ninety-year-old woman shouted out her Bronx apartment window into the darkness. “Get the hell out of here you vicious bastard! I see you!” She was in her blue butterfly nightdress with curlers in her white hair. Clara shouted at no one in particular; she thought that it would make the concealed vampires, if there were any in the area, flee upon being discovered. It had succeeded one night and so she now repeated the process to such an extent that she was becoming exhausted, losing much-needed sleep. She shouted on the hour, every hour that she managed to stay awake. Clara had even attempted to stake her husband one midnight hour; because he had told her in jest that he was a vampire. He now resided in the Bailystoker nursing home where she visited him once a month, always carrying a stake in her big black purse, just in case. On this night, she did manage to annoy a raccoon that was attempting to get into a garbage can and two rats in the vicinity but no vampires were frightened. The poor woman eventually nodded off with her head partially out the fifth story window.

    Edgy people stared out of their windows into their depths of being. What if tonight was their last night? How painful was death by a vampire? What if they turned into one of the undead creatures themselves? Would they end up eating their neighbors? Would they have their relatives over for lunch? People feared strangers more than ever before, and accidental shootings were on the rise.

    Opened spaces to the nocturnal air seemed useless; the air was equally saturated in or out without an air conditioner humming. The night itself was a sassy antagonist not opposed to gushing blood or screams from the innocent; it concealed without judgment the things that went on under the sky devoid of the sun. Most noises now made most people jump, even the usually courageous ones. Collective sighs rolled throughout the state, escaping through frustrated mouths. Angst was as plentiful as perspiration as were tranquilizers. Some people had accepted their fate and just waited to be killed and drained of their blood.

    Bands of brave mortals patrolled the night with guns that contained wooden tipped bullets; however the velocity and might of the vampires were usually adequate to take care of those courageous defenders. They tried their best to protect their neighborhoods and on occasion did succeed, but usually the gangs ended up being killed and eaten. Some had direct lines to the sheriff's that had saved them on multiple occasions, although sometimes they arrived too late. The sheriff would discover the bodies and grisly scenes of blood and gore littering the sidewalks.

    A positive future was becoming harder to envision. Hope had turned into a nasty four letter word. People all over the city feared being pursued by unknown shadows. A young couple had driven off the cliffs at Sodus Point Inn because they thought the man behind their car in a black coat was a vampire, and they ended up drowning in the lake.

    With almost eight hundred languages spoken it was one of the most linguistically diverse cities on the planet, with some areas a little like the ambiance around the tower of Babel. And everyone talked about those damn vampires.

    Those that did manage to sleep awoke from nightmarish visions of bloody fangs pursuing them.

    Two male teenagers stood on 46th and 7th Avenue. They were high on liquor and marijuana and were afraid of nothing. One had a Smith and Wesson .357 tucked into his belt under his shirt and loaded with wooden tipped bullets. The other relied on his friend’s ability to secure his safety as well and was always walked home after twilight. They had youth on their side, which was no protection at all against the biters. Of course they were more foolhardy than brave; they risked their lives on a nightly basis and now felt quite comfortable out after dark.

    “It’s a quiet night man.” Ace was more or less a happy-go-lucky fellow with brown hair down to his shoulders. He was in a rock band called Eat Me, and the entire band had about as much talent as a piece of pine wood.

    “It’s those stupid vampires. Can’t even find a single purse to pinch.” Henry was the band’s drummer, but they were so bad that they were now getting tired of themselves. One could only scream for so long. A band needed to mesh, and they hadn’t accomplished that, sounding like they should be in four different bands. “I’ve never even seen a vampire. You?”

    Ace considered what he said. “Maybe I saw one. I mean they’re not so easy to spot when they act normal. I mean, you could be a vampire. How would I know unless you showed me your fangs, or you picked up a car or something?”

    “Yeah, no. All over the news but I ain’t seen one in person. Maybe it’s all a bunch of crap!”

    A bat hung upside down from a nearby building, and as it listened intently, it showed a slight smile at their ramblings. The light caught its eyes just right and made them gleam. The mammal adjusted its position ever so slightly.

   “I’ll blow the damn thing away if I ever see one. Blam!” Ace had the skeletal remains of a vampire hanging on his wall. He considered that they might not be genuine, but they sure look real. He took a drag of his weed and then passed it to Henry. “What the shit is that?”

    The bat flew down and flew between the two of them as they both backed up several feet. Ace took the gun out and fired three shots at it, but missed and put two of the three bullets into his friend’s chest. Henry fell dead onto the sidewalk as the bat morphed into a genuine vampire. The gun was knocked out of his hand as the vampire enjoyed the fact that Ace was now hyperventilating and ready to pass out from fear. He was so frightened in fact that he couldn’t run. He couldn’t move an inch.

    “What do we have here? I like the taste of fear. Therefore, you should be delicious my fine fellow.”

   Ace managed to glance down at the gun, but that was it. The biter tore into his throat and commenced to drink his blood. He drank noisily and turned as he ate, scanning the area for red sheriffs. It was like drinking the finest wine. Blood splattered onto the sidewalk with some landing on the shiny Smith and Wesson.

    Numerous silhouettes of the undead concealed themselves into the obscurity of the night, and the steamy atmosphere didn’t oppress them. They were patient creatures, ever vigilant for their opportunity to strike. Hungry eyes glowed red when they permitted them to do so. Over eight million souls fed energy into the city. An almost full moon hung over the city, indifferent and usually went unnoticed.

    Some New Yorkers slept with shotguns loaded with shells that contained oak dust to kill the monsters, some went off accidentally during the long night though many didn’t. Kids loved to scare the hell out of their parents and thought it was hilarious. Some survived the encounters, and some didn’t. It was an awful thing to live with, having accidentally killed one’s child out of fear. Some managed to survive beyond the horrible incidents, and some didn’t, offering themselves to the vampires.

    A single rumble of thunder and rod of lightning teased of rain that would perhaps cool the area but produced nothing of any significance. It was like the shallow promises from the authorities. It sounded good, but the result was negligible.  A misty drizzle made the area even more sinister looking as if every single shadow contained a monster, and some did. The fog held shades of gray, and even a lamppost could appear menacing. Teens thought it amusing to stick hats to poles and make them look evil from a distance though only at night.

    The night was alive with worried minds and frightened faces.

    An abnormal vampire bat flew over the neo-gothic Brooklyn Bridge spanning the East River; he was looking down at the traffic and searching for the opportunity to feed. The bat was three times larger than the standard Desmodus rotundus, with different abilities as well, and most significant was its ability to transform into the so-called undead. It flew through one of the pointed arches, thoroughly enjoying the sights below. Flying through the sunless sky was pure pleasure. The smell of all those human blood bags down there was exciting. The heavy traffic was as if snakes were slithering to their next destination. After several more hours of exploring the bat flew over the Queensboro Bridge, and the United Nations Headquarters.

    The bat’s wings cut through the warm air as it searched for its prey, and it could easily detect human blood from a thousand feet up. Lance preferred people that had consumed rare sirloin steaks because he liked the taste of iron-rich blood, and could detect such blood from hundreds of feet away. Obese people were some of his favorites and vegetarians were left alone to perish of their natural causes. Most vampires didn’t care for vegetarians, but it was a well-kept secret that no biter ever discussed. The vampire’s echolocation combined with supernatural vision and scent helped him to locate preferable targets, and his echolocation was not reduced as that of a typical vampire bat, but almost ninety times more potent.  

    New York City was a spectacular place at night. The skyscrapers impressed upon the humans their smallness, and the bitters made them aware of their vulnerability and mortality. A billboard showing a vampire eating a human had stood for two days before it was taken down under heavy guard. The night was now the enemy of most people, with parking lots lit so brightly that some people could barely stand it. The supernatural advantages of the vampires were as an adult fighting a toddler, so for most humans no chance to prevail. Wooden tipped bullets killed a few, but hesitation to pull the trigger and mind control caused many more human deaths at the hands of the vamps. The creatures were simply too damn fast and powerful.

    Circling the city made the vampire feel crazed with bloodlust, especially since Lance had purposely gone almost a week without partaking to get to that frenzied state. He loved the enthusiasm of his inner monster. The beast enjoyed the uneasiness and anticipation of what was to come, and would risk death to taste salty human flesh and blood. After the vampire fed, it would sleep with the contentment of flowers in the sun; otherwise it was an uneasy slumber. The bat had observed a red transport truck that was pulled by a Kenworth tractor with a full load of ice cream in its refrigerated trailer as it pulled off the highway to take on fuel. The bat flew in and hung upside down on the power line that led into the station and watched with the eagerness of a starving lion. The driver’s scent was maddening to the vampire; even from inside the cab he could smell that iron-rich blood. A red sheriff in a white Chevy Malibu had been detected as he passed on the highway, and so the attack was postponed. Those sheriffs could detect a scream a hell of a long distance away.

    Back in the truck and back on the highway the vampire continued to pursue from the air. But on First Avenue the bat morphed and attacked the speeding rig, smashing feet-first through the driver’s side window and feeding on Marty the driver, with only the briefest scream emitted. Poor Marty was drained and killed in seconds, and his wife would regret the fight they had that morning for the rest of her life. The heavy truck barrelled out of control into the candy apple red Dodge minivan, killing the family of five instantly, including twin seven-year-old boys. Gravity, velocity and the weight of the large transport had made the carnage inevitable. It was a horrible scene for all those that would be forced to view it.

    Being a relatively new vamp, nineteen-year-old Lance Walker stopped to lap up some of the blood that was dripping down from the van’s door before fleeing the scene. His long blond hair made him look as though he should have belonged to a heavy metal band, but he was the son of a batiste minister. He had been a criminal long before he was transformed. Covered in skull tattoos, he had enjoyed killing dogs and cats and anything else he could get his nasty hands on, but now Lance was a genuine nightmare. It had been his fifth kill in less than a month. Lance blurred away into the darkness that he was so comfortable with and vanished.

    Many calls went into the station of the local red sheriff, a law enforcement office in the Bronx, which was set up to deal with criminal bloodsuckers, both trained and approved by Dracula himself. Few had seen the king in over two decades, and there were plenty of new vampires that even doubted his existence. Wooden-tipped bullets were selling like popcorn at the movies.

 

    Alexander Coleman entered his small white office and saw that his Dell laptop computer was lit up with incoming calls. He had thick black hair and a perfect muscular body. A photo of Bruce Lee hung above his desk. His female German shepherd Tessy, also a vampire, blurred into the space so rapidly that she knocked The New York Times newspaper onto the floor having pushed the air current to such a degree. She kicked at the dog dish under the sports section and accidentally drove it into the wall; Alexander hadn’t been paying attention and didn’t have the opportunity to intercept the bowl.

    “Tessy, a little easier please.” He was a big man with such a handsome face that he almost always made the ladies stare; dressed in an ink black suit with a matching black tie and a glowing red sheriff’s badge attached above his heart. The badge was electronic, and pressing it would display to authorities all pertinent information about him, including the impressive fact that the Master trained him. It was also a video recorder.

    All the messages originating from the computer appeared to be from First Avenue, as were several calls from the police. It was clear that someone had been killed. Evil vampires needed to be stopped and turned to dust, but there was only so much that a single sheriff could accomplish. As of late it was difficult to get a day off and get away from the nightly carnage. Vampires had been getting out of hand for several years, and still there was no sign of Dracula. It was as if the Master had abandoned his children.

    The dog was as gorgeous as she was intimidating, barking a high pierced bark. It was her FEED ME bark. She was a mix of two breeds, German Shepherd, and Siberian Husky; she took her beautiful coloration from both though she looked to have more shepherd in her and appeared fierce. Tessy had been turned by the Master, and, in fact, no other vampire seemed capable of turning animals, although he claimed it to be possible for all biters to accomplish. That was one of a myriad of secrets that Dracula wouldn’t reveal.

    “All right, I’ll give you some food and then we gotta go. Duty calls.”

    Alexander pulled the bowl out of the wall and placed it on the cupboard by the sink. He opened the fridge and removed two bags of O positive blood and poured one into the silver dog dish and he drank the other. It was so refreshing that it was as if a human who was in the Mojave Desert dying of thirst had found and drank a large bottle of Aquafina water. There was nothing like the taste of blood to a vampire.

    Tessy stopped and stared out into the night, with her ears apparently listening to something. The sheriff placed one hand on his gun and the other onto his ancient samurai sword. He looked at the dog’s face and the movement of her ears and knew something was up. The door was kicked in and off its hinges, flying toward the sheriff the dog leaped and deflected it. A crazed vampire by the name of Frank Cole was celebrating his two-hundredth birthday, and since he had managed to torture the sheriff’s location out of an off-duty police officer, he had decided to celebrate it by eliminating one of Dracula’s personal assistants. And Alexander was one of the six legendary sheriffs at that. He would make a name for himself.

    Frank drove the sheriff across the room with a kick and was on the sheriff instantly, attacking with a piece of sharpened maple. Alexander held both wrists stopping him from plunging the wood into his heart when a vicious growl made him turn his head. Frank was appalled and immediately frightened as the dog showed her vampire teeth. He had heard of vampire dogs but had never seen one. Up until this time he thought the dogs were probably fabrications of a mythical nature, but seeing one in the flesh was something else. The assailant was just about to flee and had started to do so when Tessy blurred and grabbed Frank by the throat, biting through his carotid artery, the dog didn’t stop until his head came off. His evilness turned to dust in her mouth, and Tessy made faces as she spit out the unwanted grit. Frank’s skeletal remains hit the polished floor.

    “Tessy, what a good girl.”

 

    Alexander blurred onto the crime scene so fast that it made the officer near the minivan go for his gun until he noticed the badge. Some of the police were taking care of traffic as two detectives in suits also arrived on the scene. Officer Miller recognized Alexander immediately, and so it wasn’t necessary to verify that he was indeed a red sheriff. Some time ago several officers had lost their lives when an evil vampire had gotten his hands on one of the red sheriff’s red badges.

    “Miller, how long ago?” Alexander told Tessy to sit, and she did so. The dog sniffed the air as she waited.

   “Less than an hour,” said Miller. “Those bastards give me the creeps. What are my chances of actually killing one with one of these wooden tipped bullets? I feel like a mouse waiting for a hawk to show up.”

    Alexander snapped his fingers and pointed to the area around the minivan where he could see tracks in the blood. “Tessy scent!” The German Shepherd immediately started to sniff the area. “Oh, those bullets will kill a vamp, the problem is that we’re almost as fast as a bullet, some of us faster, so if you hesitate you die. And it has to be a shot to the heart.”

    Another officer entered the scene with an attitude, below average in height with a husky build and salt and pepper hair. Detective Braden Carter looked at Alexander with disgust.  Braden hated most vampires. “Miller, what the hell is THAT doing here?”

   “He’s sanctioned by the government and you know it. You’d be happy to have him here if a bad one showed up right now.”

    Carter placed himself directly in front of the sheriff and looked up at him. “Do you know how easy it would be for me to kill you?”

    “You couldn’t kill your grandmother, little man.” Alexander smiled at him and should he go for his gun the sheriff would pick him up and throw him.

    The dog growled and briefly showed her fangs but then went right back to sniffing. The shepherd sensed the detective’s animosity, but she knew his fear would prevent him from acting on it. She barked four high-pitched barks, indicating that she had the scent and was ready to pursue. The dog blurred fifty feet across the street and waited for her master to follow; she could sense the criminal getting further away from the crime scene.

    “Vampire, what will you do if you catch the son-of-a-bitch?” Having lost too many family members to them including his lovely wife Rebecca, Carter wasn’t likely to ever lose his hatred of vampires.

   Alexander looked at his dog who barked impatiently. “He’ll be killed on sight, and my badge will record and upload it to the server. His image will be processed and run against other unsolved crimes so that they can be closed.”

    Carter hesitated but decided to ask. “Can you take me with you so that I can observe the kill? It’s a government sanctioned request that I received some time ago. The more we see firsthand, the more we can learn.”

    The sheriff looked at the detective and smiled. “I can but it’s a scary run for a human, and I can’t promise that you’ll be safe.”

    “Let’s roll!” Carter pretended that he wasn’t frightened of what was to come, but the dog could detect his apprehension from across the street. Tessy squatted and urinated to show her disdain, but nobody noticed except for the sheriff.

    Alexander placed both his hands under the detective’s armpits, lifted him up as a father would his child and blurred with him into the night. The speed and the proximity of seemingly imminent collisions with buildings and cars that never occurred were enough to take the detective’s breath away, his stomach’s surge was as bad as being on a rollercoaster. They abruptly halted in areas that Lance Walker had stopped to do reconnaissance for his future crimes, where he left a larger accumulation of his stink behind. In one area, Carter vomited the remnants of his pizza with the works that he had for dinner into a green garbage can. Unless the detective was driving a vehicle, he was prone to car sickness, and all those rapid movements had been too much for him.

    The dog blurred with another burst of speed and the sheriff followed close behind carrying the nauseous detective; he had a feeling that the sheriff wasn’t going to let him forget the events that were transpiring anytime soon. Carter thought it best to curtail his prejudicial ways, at least in front of the red sheriff. The night was young enough and the detective’s survival was uncertain. A human in pursuit of a vampire was tricky business.

    Tessy stopped at the entrance of a dark alley and looked back at Alexander; it was the dog’s signal that she had spotted something in the darkness. It was a vampire sleeping on the ground like a vagabond. The dog could smell the blood on his herringbone patterned tweed shirt. It was in fact Lance having gorged himself to such a degree that he was taking a nap. The overindulgence had made him sleepy. Alexander signaled for Carter to be quiet as he approached the slumbering silhouette. Vampires usually woke at the slightest noise.

    Lance was curled up in a fetal position faced away from them. Abruptly his eyes flicked open. The sheriff pressed his badge to start the recording as he pulled his ornate samurai sword from its black scabbard, gripping the handle with skill. The serial killer jumped up and went for his blades, knives that were specifically fabricated to kill vamps. The blade had three sides, razor sharp stainless steel on both ends with South American Snakewood in the center, and capable of killing a vampire as it entered the heart.

    Lance jumped twenty feet into the air, ending up against the side of the building, launching multiple knives. The sheriff dodged two, but the detective caught one in the shoulder and went down. The German Shepherd pounced and grabbed onto Lance’s left leg as Alexander jumped and attempted to slice his head off, missing; he instead cut his sternum open that healed almost instantly. The dog released his leg placed herself and at the end of the alley to block his exit; he would have to battle the sheriff where his escape was inaccessible.  He also knew that he would be at a disadvantage with the German Shepherd on one side and Alexander on the other.

    “I’m hurt bad!” Carter shouted.

    “Don’t remove the knife it’ll be over soon.”

    That had been enough of a distraction for Lance to hurl more knives, and Alexander dodged them as well, though just barely, with one ending up in Carter’s left leg. He couldn’t believe his luck. “I’m dying here! He’s using me for target practice! I need an ambulance!”

    “An ambulance won’t approach until this guy is dust.”

    The sheriff moved forward with the sword at the ready, and Lance took small steps backward. Alexander thought about demanding his surrender, but they never did acquiesce to such a request. The killer permitted the whites of his eyes to glow bright red. The dog showed its fangs and growled so viciously that the criminal didn’t dare take another step. He slowly pulled his sword and considered whether to turn and attack the dog, but he decided he didn’t dare take his attention away from the red sheriff. Tessy jumped toward the back of his neck, and when he attempted to block it, the sheriff decapitated him and his epidermis turned to dust. His skeleton clinked as it fell to the pavement.

    “We need an ambulance at this location.” The sheriff looked around and wasn’t quite sure where he was. “Use tracking and hurry, we have an officer down.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

 

 

 

 

    DRACULA WALKED THROUGH the cemetery with a forlorn heart. It was around five and the temperature was cool for the time of year, just above sixty degrees Fahrenheit. Even up here in New Brunswick, Canada, it was usually warmer in July. His black Armani suit and tie gave him the appearance of a businessman, and his stylish haircut reaffirmed that notion. But nothing could be further from reality. He roamed aimlessly through the graveyard and envied each and every one of the dead. Dracula neither appreciated the peacefulness of it all nor the greenery of summer. He had had such an extended life that he was weary of it. Living to a hundred was one thing, but being so ancient was becoming unbearable. It had been so long since he had enjoyed a day to its fullest. He felt like a flower that had withered but couldn’t die.

    Dracula crossed his powerful arms and observed three black-capped chickadees in flight; they sung their familiar song and one actually stopped to rest on his shoulder. The bird didn’t surprise him as he had called to it in his mind. He knew the birds usually lived to be less than two years of age, but occasionally endured to be twice that. He thought that if he knew he would be dead in that period of time that it would be most satisfactory; he could be happy in that knowledge and just endure until then. The bird departed his shoulder and the other two followed close behind.

    Dracula watched a burial in the distance; he started to move and then stopped and stared into himself, transported back in time to a happier day when he had enjoyed the company of another vampire named Margaret. They had taken a ride through the streets of New York in a landau horse drawn carriage and he remembered the sound of the hooves clopping along, and her classic face. She had been so pretty and with such a kind disposition. She really was one in a million. He so liked to bathe in her presence, her effervescent nature had a way of uplifting those around her. They had passed by Broadway at 42nd Street, and he recalled that Lyceum had a production of The Moth and the Flame on that 1880 day. Or was the year 1898? The years had a way of blending into one another. It was annoying that the exact year failed him but of course it was to be expected. A week after that joyous ride she had been killed by two biters that he had later tracked down and tortured. He supposed it was best not to think of such things.

    He lay down on a trail between the tombstones and gazed up at the puffy white clouds. A Vampire not being able to tolerate the sun was a myth, although they did prefer to do their dirty work at night. A large raven flew over and ignored him. He could hear the traffic on Elmwood Drive but couldn’t see it. Dracula was wealthy beyond imagining, and yet it meant little to him. Any enjoyment that life had held in the past had dissipated as so much smoke, impossible to grasp. The workings of such an ancient mind were extremely involved. Depression had grabbed him and refused to let go. Perhaps his brain was so old that it was perishing, but of that he couldn’t be sure.

    “Are you okay Mister? You were trying to go to sleep?” The four-year-old boy stared down at him. Kevin had momentarily escaped his family as they were placing flowers on his grandmother’s grave. The boy thought it a peculiar place to take a nap.

    “Fine, unfortunately.”

    “What cha doing?”

    “Going crazy.”

    “What cha doing that for?”

    “Something to do.”

    “Tell me if you see a ghost. I’ll be over there.”

    “I’ll send the ghost over to get you if I see one.”

    Kevin ran as fast as his little legs would take him to inform his parents that the cemetery did indeed have ghosts and that they should hurry and get out of there before one got all of them. He jumped around for attention, but his parents ignored the child.

    That was how Dracula spent the anniversary day of the passing of his dear friend, Hubert Walter; Archbishop of Canterbury had died on July 13th in the year 1205. July 13th, 2011 was simply another day for tedious recollection. Had he a pill that would render him unconscious for a century he would gladly swallow it. The walks that he had taken with the Archbishop and had so thoroughly enjoyed were now painful memories. How was it that pleasant memories could be so unpleasant?

    Dracula closed his eyes and when he opened them night had fallen. Hours had raced by as if it had been mere seconds. It seemed the only time that was worth anything was unconscious time. The distinctive sound of two cats fighting somewhere in the distance brought a smile to his face; he assumed that they were battling over a mate and that the fur was flying. At least nature was somewhat interesting.  As he sat up the cats ran through the graveyard, with one in pursuit of the other, both cats were white, and one bloodied. The female would go to the victor unless she departed the area not wanting to put up with more of their foolishness.

    Such was the life of the king of vampires, sleeping in a graveyard and thinking about cats.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER THREE

 

 

 

 

 

 

    THE FOREST SEEMED MAGICAL as large snowflakes drifted down through the trees and landed on the leaves that covered the forest floor. Cool enough to snow but not cold. Dozens of chickadees sang their songs as they flitted from tree to tree. The orange, red and bright yellow colors of the leaves concealed under the blanket of white, and in no time an inch of bright snow had covered the forest path that twisted and turned near the gurgling water in the brook. An unseen bonfire could be heard crackling somewhere in the distance, with the smoke finding its way to her nose. Was there something or someone sinister attached to that bonfire? A tree branch cracked and then another.

    There was something putrid on the air, a dead animal perhaps?

    “They’re coming,” the trees whispered into the light breeze.

    Someone cursed.

    Twelve-year-old Jenny walked on the path with the snow lightly crunching under her green and gray Reebok sneakers. She had a black winter coat with faux fur around the hood. Jenny had a Japanese sword in hand and was aware that she was being followed, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t seem to find her way home. It was as if the section of path that led home had somehow vanished. Suddenly, the atmosphere turned cold, and she could see her warm breath advancing in the air as if an arctic system was upon her. A headless white-tailed deer seemed to look in her direction as it crossed the forest trail, stopping briefly before continuing. Less than a minute later a tall bearded man carrying the head of the animal also passed at the same location, apparently in pursuit of the deer.

    Jenny was more puzzled than frightened as she proceeded, wary of what she might see next. The snowflakes were unusually large, at least two inches wide. One perfectly formed six-sided snowflake landed on the back of her right hand and she studied it; a single drop of dark red blood materialized near the center of the snowflake, saturating it completely and turning it red. She looked up but couldn’t detect the source of the blood.

    “I said caw!” A crow landed beside her on the trail.

    Jenny swung her katana, and it cut through the air audibly, wielding it made her confident. She had power, precision, and talent. She jumped fifteen feet into the air and cut a branch off the tree, and then cut the branch in two before it hit the ground. Another branch cracked somewhere to her left, a little closer this time. Nobody was visible in the area, but a sense of dread had come over her. Amongst the trees to her left a red fox appeared against the white snow. She stopped and stared at the animal as it gazed at her. It pawed at the snow and then shook its head as if it was warning her not to go that way.

    “Hello,” she said to the fox but it turned and ran off.

    “Hello Jenny,” said a man’s voice from somewhere undetectable, sounding as if it had originated from up high.

    Jenny couldn’t detect the origin of the voice and so continued to follow the path around to the right where she discovered a bonfire crackling. Red smoke rose from the fire and headed up through the trees, saturating the branched red. She could feel the heat on her face. Suddenly, a vampire appeared from out of nowhere, and then another and another. They were popping up like popcorn in a popper until there were thousands of them. They blocked her path and crowded into the trees, swelling deep into the forest. They took turns showing her their fangs. She bent down and gathered some snow and formed the most perfectly round snowball. She used such pressure that it turned to clear ice.

    Someone in the middle of all those vampires shouted. “Wake the hell up!”

    Jenny turned over in bed and opened her eyes. Her hands felt cold from the ice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

    CHAPTER FOUR

 

 

 

 

 

    ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF BOSTON Michael sat under her window; he was looking up at the second-story hoping to get a glance at her. Tall and lean; he was handsome although he was unable to see it in himself, lacked confidence is what. Michael had been in front of the yellow house for nearly two hours, thinking and chewing gum. Turned in his early twenties he remained frozen in this timeless look of an attractive youth, with brown hair and hazel eyes. He had two days of stubble on his face which made him appear that much more handsome. Michael had gone through the tragedy of losing his first love just before being transformed into a vampire and that had done something to his emotions and he continued to try and work through it seventeen years after the fact. His time had been spent aimlessly wandering state to state until the encounter with Lauren.

    Michael was infatuated with Lauren.

    He couldn’t pry her out of his mind with a crowbar; her beauty chiseled into his soul. Her personality tied to his thoughts and emotions, love’s chemicals were racing through him but would do him no good if she wouldn’t reciprocate. She was either disinterested or pretending to be so. Still, he believed that there was something concealed in her wry smiles, those looks of what? Pity? He couldn’t read her mind at all, but she could poke around in his. Nothing he could do about that. But she was the first love interest that had grabbed him in a long time.

   Lauren’s white lace curtains flowed with the summer breeze; they pushed out and then slowly returned to caress the windowsill. He was more than a little frightened to tell Lauren of his feelings for her, though because she had been in his head she, of course, knew. He loved her as much as one could love another without knowing them. Michael smiled and shook his head at that thought. Was he really that pathetic?  He had carried the heavy bench from the small park down the street, which would have been impossible for a human, and placed it near the sidewalk across the street from her house. Someone went past the window so fast that he couldn’t tell who it was. But it did make him pay closer attention, less he miss his opportunity to see her.

    “I feel like a stalker,” he whispered to himself. “A stupid stalker.”

     She was magazine cover beautiful, but at times had the temper of a wolverine. Lauren was a red sheriff with the reputation of a wicked defender for all who needed her talents. Her fighting ability was exceptional. She had been brought up with three rugged brothers that had always treated her as an equal; she had made sure of that. Over the years, Lauren had dished out as many bruises as she had received from her brothers, but it was all in fun. They had died of natural causes long ago. Now at times it was difficult to remember their faces, although within dreams they were clear though they faded much too fast when she awoke.

    She usually wore two twenty inch samurai swords on her back. Michael had observed her from a distance as she had split a vampire in two with one of her swords. She had turned him to dust, and his skeleton cut into two equal parts, certainly took a lot of skill to accomplish that. Michael had thought that decapitation could only kill vampires, but he supposed there were aberrations of which he was unaware. Perhaps her swords were enchanted. It wasn’t that the vampire hadn’t deserved it for attempting to feed on a man in a wheelchair with cerebral palsy. Afterward she offered the man in the wheelchair the opportunity to be turned, and he accepted, got up and walked away. So it had had a happy ending of sorts.

    Lauren had the fury of a female Bruce Lee, and she did alarm him at times. She was just a little over five feet two inches, but what she lacked in height she made up for in pure talent and ferociousness. The Master had commented to her at the ceremony where she had been turned into a red sheriff that she was a force to beware, as her aura had touched him even prior to her entering the building. She was ambidextrous and fought like a tornado, and because of it Dracula had imbued her with a little more energy than the others, even though perhaps it should have been a little less.

    Lauren’s hair color was Nutrisse intense Blue Black, and her hair style was short and exquisite. She had grey-blue luminescent eyes with thick dark eyelashes and tiny black hearts tattooed under both eyebrows. She lay on her bed with her friend Samantha beside her. Samantha was an auburn redhead with green eyes, and she was mortal. They were both reading the same novel, Koontz’s Watchers, and occasionally sharing comments and scenes. It was just something that they liked to do, to read the same book simultaneously. It was a way of sharing as if two people were watching the same movie, and Samantha was proud that she had come up with the idea.

    Lauren had a poster of the Supernatural brothers on the wall, as well as a poster of Alexander and his German shepherd Tessy. She fantasized about having her a vampire dog though she knew that it was unlikely to become a reality; she was determined to ask Dracula for one if she ever encountered him again. Not many frightened her, but Dracula had such a presence. The Master radiated power and a simple look at him could make one want to flee, scary as hell when he wanted to be. Approaching the Master was almost like getting too close to the sun.

    Samantha turned the page and then so did Lauren. “I bet he’s still down there.”

    Lauren laughed briefly. “I know he is. I can sense him.”

    “You can?”

    “Oh yeah. We shared a kiss and a little blood.”

    Samantha got a little excited. She glared at Lauren, letting a deep breath out. She sat up in bed away from the feather pillow. “What? You have to share that info. Why, why, why didn’t you tell me? Thought you weren’t going to lead him on?”

    “It was just something that happened. , I just walked up to him this morning in the park and kissed him, and bit him just a little. I’m not even sure why I did it. Guess I wanted to teach him a lesson for following me around like a lovesick puppy. You should have seen the look on his face.”

   “And?”

    “And he was literally tongue-tied. I mean he couldn’t say anything. He didn’t know whether to run away or faint. It would have been funny if he had run away and fainted. I read his mind, and he was like a frightened rabbit. Maybe he thought I was giving him the kiss of death. His mind sure was a jumble of fragmented thoughts. I like my guys to be confident. You know, he’s actually scared of me.”

    “Get out.”

    Lauren nodded. “I swear it’s true.”

    “That is kind of sad, but you are a red sheriff.”

    “Yes, and he wants to be one.”

    “He wants to be a sheriff?”

    “I pulled it from his mind. He doesn’t even carry a sword. What’s he gonna do, talk them to death?”

    “My little honey badger,” Michael mumbled to himself from the bench. He stared forlornly at the window and then slid to the end of the wooden bench, and then back again. He knew what he was doing wasn't smart, but she was so hot.

    Lauren sat up in bed and looked at Samantha. She had an idea. Her smile was naughty as her pupils widened. “You know what?”

    Samantha shook her pretty head as she was getting a vibe from her. “No, don’t do it.”

   “Samantha, come to the window with me, we’re gonna scare the rabbit.”

   “Lauren, don’t be cruel. You don’t know what’s going to happen in the future. Who knows, you two could end up together.”

    Lauren took the remainder of her glass of B positive blood and sank it down, ignoring her comment. “Come to the window with me. If he loves me, so much he won’t be a rabbit.”

    “Why do you want to scare him away?”

    Lauren stood akimbo and showed some attitude. “Well, right now he’s not much more than a stalker. Why should I put up with that?” She took Samantha’s hand, pulling her towards the window. They stuck their heads out and looked down at Michael. “Hey, rabbit.”

    Michael instantly blurred off into the night, but looking behind as he fled, inadvertently clipped a maple tree and tumbled to the ground, more than a little embarrassing as he knew the girls were watching. He got up, dusted himself, and then rushed off into the night.