Chapter One -

"Ingrid."

Ingrid whirled around in the dingy corridor, the light from the pale moon reflected on her skin, the faded brown floorboards groaned at the sudden movement while sickly grey ash fluttered to the floor, some finding lodgings in Ingrid's midnight black hair. The amber burning of the candles whistled to their death as the wind chilled their burning core so that only the curling ash remained. Ingrid's back was pressed to the rotten wall and it cracked at her weight. A cool hand was placed on her fisted hands, pushing her hand back forcefully to nudge into the wall while the other carved around her shoulder plate, the pitch black glitter brushed on to the hand, clinging to it. The hand gripped her shoulder tightly, pinning Ingrid against the wall. Ingrid met muddy brown eyes looking down on her and she returned it with her cold silver grey ones.

"What?!" She spat with disgust but remained where she was. Her black knee high boots planted on the floorboards. She wasn't a coward nor did she intend to act like one so when a challenge presented itself to her, who was she to back down?

"Why don't you trust me?" Malik snarled in a hushed voice. His words pointed and deadly. Distrustful.

"Trust you? Seriously?" Ingrid scoffed at his words, amused. She shifted her tone to seriousness and spoke once again, delivering her words with anger. "You. You tried to wipe out the Dracula clan and you're asking me to trust you like you have something to hide and your afraid I'll find out!" Ingrid hissed at him, fangs looking stunning and evil in the moonlight. Malik hissed back at her, boiling with fury at her words. His eyes went dark, like a empty black void, the brown and the white replaced with nothing as he stared her down. "What? Like you haven't? We're vampires , Ingrid. We crave power."

Ingrid was tired of listening to this pathetic excuse of a Dracula, it didn't change anything. He wasn't meant to be trusted. You trust Malik and there is stake lodged in your un-beating heart and your ashes decorating the floor with a sad grey colour, the last sound heard is the scream of agony escaping your lips. Malik was never to be trusted and she would see to it that his face would never leave Garside alive.

Ingrid rolled her eyes indicating she was bored and didn't really care what she did in the past. She was focusing on a much bigger type of power. Malik was still looking at her intently and Ingrid noticed his grip on her had considerably lightened. She grinned devilishly and placed her hands on his chest and shoved him squarely so she could walk off. Malik was watching her go with a grin on his lips. She turned around her heels pivoting to face Malik with grace and poise.

"Don't you have some shadows to scream at?" She asked.

She didn't wait for Malik to answer and her presence was gone from the corridor, the dust jumped from their perching on the floor and started floating towards Malik and smacking his face lightly. He chuckled quietly with a smile before leaving the corridor in the opposite direction. The dust settled on the floor or the windowsill glinting beautifully in the shaft of moonlight peaking through the black velvet curtains, White and brilliant and enormous, light to the darkness. Hope burning the fear.

Vlad was alone in the throne room. The candles burned brightly, shining clearly, showing everyone all the room. The intricate chairs were cast aside near the matching oak brown table. Blood was splattered across the table, smudging the scarlet silk that lay proud fully on top of the table in all its glory. Wine glasses were laying on their sides across the table, the blood oozing out of them. The cobwebs were reflected perfectly, but they looked tired and old. The Count's throne left dent marks on the plush velvet red. A bottle of blood lay on the middle of the table. A black ribbon circled the top of the bottle. A proud bow leaping out and looking viciously perfect. Vlad sat occupying a seat, his hands playing with stem of a glass, looking at the orange mixture with boredom and almost certainly despair.

George and her mum had retired to their rooms for the night, hand in hand smiling and gazing back at Vlad. Vlad envied over how close they were as a family. The Count had seized Asan, laughing and whispering quickly and importantly about types of blood. Reinfeild following hot on their heels and mumbling quietly about the time of being turned into a vampire. Ingrid had left to seek her chambers saying the celebrations were pathetic. Malik, after drinking glass or two had followed her. Malik had been eyeing Ingrid throughout the conversation with Ingrid smiling back -seemingly watchful and keeping herself to herself- then turning her attention elsewhere. Vlad had watched as Malik had lifted his cup, looking at Ingrid with a smirk and raising it towards her in a toast. Countless times that had happened. Ingrid had just rolled her eyes and sipped the blood. Vlad had dismissed it as Ingrid not trusting him and Malik getting her to trust him.

It seemed only Vlad had had lost something in the battles with the Shadows. A family. George and Sarah would be gone by the time the first pinkie amber ray of sunshine shone on the pavement, bringing warmth and a loss. Vlad had known always that it was inevitable. That of course they had to leave but there was that hopeful side of him that thought that they would stay for life.

Erin .

Erin was dead. He told himself over and over again that Malik was welcome to her. That she decided who she'd become and that Vlad didn't like that , but when he closed his eyes and the darkness seeped through from all directions, Erin found her way to him. Smiling and amazing and so very Erin. It pained Vlad with agony that she'd become a vampire, a creature of unfeeling cruelty. It was torture for her to be dead but so very alive in his memory.

Malik strolled into the room and placed his hands on the table looking at the dazed Vlad. Vlad looked up and a question formed in his head. "Why did you come back?" He asked. He was still angry at Malik but the question had escaped his lips came out of pure curiosity. He'd developed a human trait.

"I told you." Malik replied quickly

"No." Vlad began "No. You would've left us to die. Your way of getting revenge."

"Well maybe I've changed" Malik said defensively.

"Vampire's don't change." Vlad scoffed bitterly.

Malik looked at him. Malik's arms were resting on the chair and he was leaning forward. He picked up a glass that shined proudly in the candlelight and poured in the scarlet liquid from the blood wine bottle. Held it up to Vlad and smiled knowingly before he was gone from the room. Vlad was alone with his thoughts and his ghosts. And a mystery, Malik. What was he doing here? Vlad had asked himself that very question when Malik first came into the Dracula abode. Look at what had happened. Vlad found it annoying that Malik came with baggage of a mystery once again. this time he hoped it wouldn't end in tears.

Malik Dracula. Old school biter. 100% rebel. Very much a vampire. Really really dangerous. Wore some serious fangs. What was there to trust? But if he wasn't to be trusted, then remember this.

Demons run when a good man goes to war.