Chapter 1

Tall arcades and bone-like coloured pillars welcomed her as she opened the door. The crumbling walls were still ornated by faint images of saints, their decrepit eyes looking at her, watching, judging. She stepped in and the dust, that had never been swept off the floor, raised in her wake and danced chaotically in the sparse rays of light that managed to slip into the murky room. She coughed a little when the mouldy air invaded her lungs, but she continued to walk forward.

It was silent inside; the only noise was the uneven sound of her steps on the stone pavement. One thing that immortality did not cure was her limp, she still dragged her left foot a little but there was no pain. She hasn’t felt pain in over 600 years. She was 675 years old, but she still looked the same as she did when she was 71. Deep lines adorned her skin and green eyes still burned fiercely in their sockets. She kept her long grey hair in a tight bun on top of her hair and a handkerchief was neatly tied to cover her ears. Her modest clothes did not betray her status. For everyone who did not know, she was just that quiet old woman that has lost her husband.

The lair of the Nosferatu clan was settled in an old church, long forgotten, the building has served as Nosferatu’s hideout place since their early days. It had an extensive labyrinth of rooms and passages underground, which they populated and repurposed to fit their needs. Out of all the vampires, the Norsferatus were the only ones that avoided the light of day, but only because their thin transparent skin offered no protection from the ultra-violet light.  Not that lately that would be a problem. The air was so dirty that the haze of pollution made it almost impossible for the sun’s rays to reach earth’s crust.

‘You have no respect for what’s sacred.’ she spoke and stopped a couple of meters away from the altar. Six pale faces turned towards her. Aligned in two rows of threes along the nave, the creatures looked at her with red angry eyes. Then they turned their heads towards the altar and spoke in unison.

 ‘She’s here.’

A tall figure emerged from behind the altar. As he walked, he dragged his lanky body slowly towards her. Gray arms with sharp nails peered out of a long and unkempt robe, and a grotesque bust with tufts of long greasy hair scattered on a mostly bald head looked at her. His skin was oily and wrinkled to such an extent that it looked rotten. Behind his shrivelled-up lips, two long fangs took the place of the front teeth.

‘Welcome, Elena.’ he greeted, and a crooked smile appeared on his face.

‘Ovidiu.’ she replied.

‘I didn’t expect you to actually come.’

‘It took a long time to decide to be here. So, don’t waste my time.’

‘I don’t intend to.’

‘I’m listening.’ she said and made her way to one of the chairs on the side of the nave. Ovidiu followed her closely. He raised his right hand and dismissed the creatures. They immediately dispersed and went silently into the altar, dragging their empty robes across the dirty pavement.

‘I thought you don’t need to use any physical communication with them.’ Elena said as she sat down. Ovidiu smiled and sat next to her.

‘I don’t maintain a connection with them at all times. I like to enjoy my privacy when possible.’

‘I understand.’

‘I’m curious, did you ever try it?’

The question did not surprise her. Everyone was curious about her powers. They assumed she was strong, but no one knew how strong. And she managed to mostly keep that to herself. And except for a few cases she even kept her vampire form hidden. Elena sighed, she almost caved and told him she never tried, but she wasn’t up for more questioning from his part.

‘I don’t think you’re doing a very good job of not wasting my time.’ she said in the end.

‘Oh, yes. Apologies.’ he replied disappointed. ‘I want you to reconsider your position.’

‘You know that’s not going to happen.’

‘I’d rather have you on my side, than against me. I do care a lot about you.’

‘And I care about you. That’s why I’m asking you to stop.’ she pleaded.

‘That I won’t do, and you know my reasoning.’ he paused, he was getting angry, and he tried to calm down. ‘They are a pest; you can’t even breathe outside anymore. Someone has to stop them.’

‘I agree, but you’re putting us all in danger.’

‘Not if I win.’

‘What if you don’t?’ she insisted. She was tired of repeating why she thought he won’t. It was an argument they have been having for many years. While vampires were strong, and fast, and immortal save for getting their hearts impaled, humans had weapons. Weapons that could do that very easily. Especially now that they have started to implant said guns into their own bodies. And they didn’t even need to, with all those drones flying around. ‘You’re making a very risky bet, Ovidiu.’

‘Only there is no bet this time around. And while I would like to have you by my side, I do not need you, or the others. Not anymore.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I had time, Elena. Time to think, time to plan … time to make an army.’

This was what she was afraid of. As much as she pushed back and tried to convince him, he did exactly what everyone else thought he wouldn’t do. She did warn them, but they dismissed her.

‘How many?’ she asked.

‘Many.’ he answered simply. She didn’t need to know exactly how many ferals he had. Even he didn’t know for sure. But he could feel them, everywhere, in every corner of the world, ready, waiting.  So many he could barely focus anymore when they connected.

‘I know you’re going to try to stop me…but please, don’t. I will have to act upon it.’ his words, despite being delivered as a warning, were a plea. Regardless of their difference in opinion, she was still his grandmother. And the only one that ever cared for him.

‘I’m really sorry.’ she said with sadness in her voice. ‘But I have to. I just wish you didn’t feel the need to prove yourself.’

‘It’s not only about proving myself anymore. It’s about so much more now. It’s also for what they did to Vlad.’

Vlad Țepeș or Vlad Dracula, the first of their kind, has been dead for more than a hundred years now. The Order of the Dragon, of which Vlad’s father has been a founding member of, created at first to put a halt to the Ottoman expansion, has survived through the ages and became a sort of secret club for people with power and money. With an expansive network of informers and warriors, they inadvertently became aware of the existence of vampires. With their beliefs deeply rooted in religion the existence of such creatures was blasphemy. So, they have made it their life’s purpose to put an end to their existence, and Vlad Dracula’s head became the ultimate trophy.

‘They will pay. For everything.’ he said and stood up. ‘Please, heed my advice, and stay away.’ he said and left.

Elena did not linger after Ovidiu and his brides retreated underground. She spared another glance at the decaying images of saints then stepped outside. In the distance, the neon-lit silhouettes of the giant holographic ads of the city shimmered and moved through the murky air. It was supposed to be evening already, but the day was drowned in a perpetual twilight. Elena could barely remember how blue the sky used to be.

‘Perhaps it would be better if we would all end.’ she thought. If only that night she had accepted her fate …  

***

February 1477 – Comana, Giurgiu County, Romania.

Elena was returning home from the monastery. The clouds were thick, and it rained heavily, she should’ve stayed at home today, her bones really disliked the rain especially her left foot, the one she broke while descending in the basement hoping to get some pickled cabbage and wine. But she had to help at the church and light a candle for the soul her husband. The cold winter’s air encompassed her as she advanced with difficulty, the mud from the alley was sticking to her shoes making them quite a burden to carry. A harrowing wail coming from the side of the road made Elena’s heart stop.

‘Bata-te Dumnezeu!’ she exclaimed as she tried to make out what or who made the awful sound.

She took a step closer to the edge of the road, in the direction of the sound. Another whispered whine convinced her she was going the right way, so she continued to walk until she began to distinguish the shape of a human crawling in the dirt. Her hands flew to her mouth when she realized it was indeed a man. Almost naked and writhing in pain, and there were so many swollen wounds and bruises on his body that he barely looked like a human being anymore.

He turned on his back with an agonizing cry. Rain poured, washing away the mud and blood, exposing multiple areas where red, angry flesh bloomed like a macabre flower. It was as if he had been cut off into pieces, and someone tried to put him back together but forgot to finish the job.

‘Help …’ he managed to utter, wheezing.

Elena crouched next to him, trying to find a way to lift him off the ground without hurting him more. As she looked at the cuts, she realized it was impossible.

‘What in the world happened to you?’  

‘Turks’, he said with great difficulty before passing out.

Good, at least now she could try and carry him, unless the pain would jolt him awake. She hoped it wouldn’t. She couldn’t let another one die at the hands of the ottomans. They took away her husband. It was one too many.   

Weeks had gone by, and even though his wounds began to heal, he did not regain his consciousness. Elena continued to care for the man. Every day she changed his bandages and dressed his wounds.

It was a stormy night when he woke up. He could hear the fire crackling and the thunder somewhere in the distance. And he could hear the woman that saved him, her voice soothing his soul with a song of love and loss.

‘It was beautiful.’, he whispered when she finished.

She jumped. At first, she thought she imagined it, but when she looked at the man on the bed his head was turned towards her, and his eyes were open.

‘Thank you, your highness.’, she replied.

He smiled. She realized who he was. Or who he has been. Vlad Țepeș, former ruler of Wallachia, now a cursed walking carcass.

‘You know who I am.’ he said instead.

‘I do, now. When I found you …’

‘I was barely a human being.’ Vlad continued.

‘Everyone says you’re dead, that Mehmed killed you.’

He didn’t say anything, just turned his gaze towards the ceiling.

‘I’m glad they didn’t. They claimed too many lives.’

He still said nothing, and the silence enveloped them in its heavy blanket.

‘They did kill me.’, he replied finally.

She stared at him with confusion in her eyes.

  ‘I was cut into pieces.’ he made a brief pause, looking at his still healing wounds, he could still feel the blade piercing his skin and slicing him open. ‘I could not pass on the other side. They were laughing and screaming at me from behind the veil, all the people I killed. They said they will never let me pass, that I will have my own hell.’

‘So, you will live…’ she said with curious calm.

‘Forever…’ he said but the word fell flat. ‘And whoever shares my blood, will carry the curse of my sins, and will crave blood for as long as their hearts keep beating… What is your name?’

‘Elena Vlăsie, Your Highness.’

‘My name is Vlad. I’m dead. I don’t rule anyone, not even my own soul.’  He replied with sadness in his voice. ‘That song you sang, who was it for?’

‘My son.’ she replied, and suddenly looked very sad.

‘Where is he now?’

‘At war… I just hope I will see him again.’

***

That night he found it hard to sleep, and he doubted he’ll ever sleep again. He raised his hands, studying in the pale light of the gas lamp the thin red lines that circled his wrists. The last time he looked at them was when they were severed from his body with a rusty dagger. He remembered the burning pain, but he endured the entire ordeal without making a sound. He watched how they cut him like one would cut a pig, fainting from shock, but being awakened by new waves of pain. And that old woman in the crowd shouting at him. He shuddered, closed and opened his eyes, then looked around the room to make the images go away.

It was a modest house, just like one would expect from a woman like Elena. There wasn’t much decoration except for a few pieces of hand-sewn tapestry hanged on the walls. The few pieces of furniture, a small table and two chairs, were crowded around a mud stove placed on the other side of the bed.

When he finally drifted to sleep, what sounded like muffled screams woke him. For a few seconds, he didn’t know what was going on, but then he heard two men talking.

– See, told you this is gonna be easy.

– Yeah, it does looks like she might have some money around too.

They sounded drunk. Very drunk. He raised from the bed, careful not to make too much noise. He knew very well that he wasn’t in the best shape, but the element of surprise would give him an advantage against the two. When he reached the hallway, he could see Elena sprawled on the ground, with a wound on her head, and one of the men crawling with his pants down over the woman’s still body, as the other searched the room for money. He could feel the rage boiling inside of him, and with the rage, something else surfaced… hunger, scraping at his insides as if it wanted to get out. And he had to let it out. He could feel his body contract, and his bones crack under an invisible force. His wounds began to glue themselves back together, and the skin started to rip, peel, and fall off his body revealing a new, almost green one underneath.

The two men heard him writhe and they both turned to look in his direction. Nothing could match the look of terror on their faces as they stared into the two red eyes that watched them from the hallway. Vlad stepped into the room, revealing himself in the pale moonlight. His battle-hardened body shone, wet with the fresh blood of the skin he just shed, his head could almost reach the ceiling now, and sharp fangs peeked through his slightly parted lips.

The intruders didn’t even have time to scream. With inhuman speed, he tore into the men, sharp teeth ripping their throats open, sucking them dry. And only then his hunger succumbed.

When he was done with them, he slowly approached Elena. She was not dead yet, but her pulse was weak, and he doubted she would make it.

‘I want to see my son …’, she said in a low voice.

He bit his wrist, drawing blood, and poured it into her mouth. When she didn’t move, he thought it was too late or that his blood did not work that way … but then her eyes opened glowing a dark, fiery red.