So to all my veterans who read the original, still progressing version of Checkmate I'd like to say sorry for suddenly deleting the story on you. After some talking and decisions making I decided it was best to scrap what I'd had to restart anew. Not only does it give me the chance to make my writing more quality, but I can fix some plot holes that had been there before. Originally I didn't plan on rewriting it for a while, but in the shower I had a boom of inspiration and here I am! Some parts of the old version will be seen here, the main example being this chapter, but following this a lot of things will be different. I would advise skimming so you can see my different word choice instead of skipping everything if that's what you planned on doing, because my approach on characters will be different - Kyla included.

Now to the newbies! Welcome aboard the crazy train, people! I hope you enjoy my story because it will be packed with humor, adventure, action, supernatural, and of course ROMANCE! I know that's why most of you are here, so hopefully I can make you all happy.

Off that note I think I should explain some things before this story is started. The movie Van Helsing doesn't exist, Dracula was/is real as were all the other myths, but once the twenty and twenty-first century rolled around all these things were either exterminated or hidden carefully by the Knights of the Holy Order. So instead of being transported into the Van Helsing universe, Kyla is merely transported back in time. There will also be a lot of religion in his book, not excessively, but since we are talking about vampires and the son of the devil and god constantly I thought I should forewarn people. I am not Jewish but I will do my best to try and follow their religion as best I can. I will be doing a lot of research on that front and many others, but some things must be made up for the sake of my story so it will be AUish and have all holes in reality filled by moi. So if you're a stickler for ultimate details and factual I can't promise your full happiness.

This story has been inspired by some very great writers so I must thank them for being an inspiration to me, but I must also thank the people who have supported my hobby and encouraged me to continue to write this story.

Now onto some of the more boring stuff. I do NOT own Van Helsing or any of the characters in that movie, I only own my own characters and main character. This story will also be rated 'M' because there will be sexual content, mention of it, profanity, and all sorts of other mature themes not for virgin eyes. :3

Also, I thought I should note there will be plot twists and lots of small details that will be important later in the story. A lot of the things I write will also be symbolic, for example Kyla (the main character save for Dracula) means 'Victorious' in Hebrew. Kyla is also another variation of Kali which means goddess of death in Hindu, the reason for that being . The reason for her name cannot be stressed enough later in the story, nor can Kyla's ties to her Hebrew background.

If you enjoyed please review, and if you didn't, please also review. I'm all for con-crit besides hate. I'm not or negativity in the slightest. Also forgive all my grammar mistakes, I tried to correct them myself but I am beta-less, cue my internal sobbing. But enough rambling! On with the story!

-Dev

CHECKMATE

—

"most gods throw dice, but fate plays chess, and you don't find out

til too late that he's been playing with two queens all along"

—

1

;;the Opening

[1887, Transylvania]

Fear and anxiety were two very similar feelings. They were strong and could make you shudder and squirm from the sense of butterflies in your stomach. Victor could hardly tell the difference ever, let alone when his brain was scattered as it was now. The line was thin, and he was afraid he'd crossed it long ago. He was only a man, a very jittery man with much to fear and little to defend himself with. He'd joined a world that men like him shouldn't be in, and his only sense of protection was his motivation to learn the world as it really was.

The clock struck eleven, the arm shifting with a creaky heave that caused Victor to jump in his spot by his creation. He had long dulled out the whirring of the machine, but it seemed once more he had spaced out to his reality in search of consolation in his thoughts. He had found none, and now he was yanked back into the crushing existence that was his own.

At this point there was little Victor could do to protect himself, to escape his fate. He had signed his death when he pursued science in reviving the dead and other said to be impossible ambitions. To try and defy god's rule was to die - he was a dedicated Hebrew, and he believed it was the greatest sin to go against god's word. But it was his life and duty to explore the unknown as a scientist, and he would take all necessary leaps to achieve what he could when he had failed before. Now was not time to reminisce in the past experiments, Adam was to be born, and hopefully he could make peace with the world with his creations in coexistence with each other. The ying to the yang. The life to death.

Surely he was damned. He had to be. Victor prayed to god as he scurried around his desk that was a disarray of drawings and barely legible writing. He had little luck finding the papers he needed, finding the ones he needed to store away from prying eyes. Victor had long awaited this day with large degrees of dread, but he could not avoid it any longer. That thought didn't prepare him for it anymore than he was though.

Time was not on his side, he could hear the ticking of the clocks in his ears as it taunted him of the every minute lost. Adam was at risk, Eve was at risk. But she was no longer here, so his son was his top priority. Victor picked up the pace considerably, sweat beading in his hair and staining the jacket he wore with the stress he carried on his shoulders. This was all his fault... all his fault! He had betrayed his family by selling his soul to a witch, to the son of the devil. He was but a man and man committed sin, but forgiveness was only in the lord's hands above, and he could only pray for it. "God forgive me, Adam forgive me. I never intended this." There was a flash of lightning that lit up the room for a mere second, and suddenly the fear grew and anxiety hid behind it. He could feel his stomach shrivel-he couldn't seem to find the letter, his last will and testament to his sins.

He had ruined enough with his work, soiled a perfect life and burdened it with an unknown duty that only time could tell. He regretted this, regretted putting all his misdeeds on something, someone else. There was no time for him to explain what he'd done, no time to figure out the solution to the equation he had no chance of solving for it was not his to solve. He had put this upon Eve, and rightfully he would pay. Victor only wished he could repent properly and with explanation, but that was a risk far too great.

Frankenstein had a dream once, something he thought was a prophecy of his future, of what he was capable of doing. But now he saw what it truly was: an omen of what his creations would achieve if put in the wrong hands. Victor had been scared, he had let his child be molded into a monster. And so he'd banished her in the only way he knew, but he would not make the same mistake with Adam. He had learned from his failure, and Adam would be no child when he came into this cruel, cruel world. Such a corrupt place had no room for innocent children to grow.

Victor stopped his search, running a hand through his brown hair as he turned back to Adam, a thin sheet of sweat having accumulated on his forehead from all the deep worrying and running around. Another bolt struck, the thunder following but not stopping the cry that escaped his patient's mouth as life pulsed through his veins. Victor's fear grew through his beating heart, but his happiness at an achievement long overdue made a shout of joy escape his trembling lips as he ran to his son's side and gazed down at him. In life he had created death, and in death he had now created life. "It's alive," he breathed to himself, a smile spreading over his shining face before he echoed his words with more fervor, jumping around like a child. "It's alive! It's alive!"

His enjoyment was put on standby at the sudden scattered shouting of gruff voices outside the castle. The distance has dulled the volume greatly, but it was close enough for the concern to grow tenfold. On top of everything else on his plate, this would most surely be a very sour tasting cherry.

He ran to the glass, peering out and confirming his negative emotion with a sinking feeling. Suddenly he didn't feel so fine, and slowly he backed away from the glass, a sudden rock like feeling settling deep inside him as his heart pounded in his ears and the breathe in his lungs escaped him. "Success!" The deep voice shook Frankenstein to the core, his feet twisting at the suddenness of it and he turned to face his guest, heart beating impossibly faster.

"Oh, Count, it's only you."

It was more of a statement than a question, and it got the blood to pump faster in his veins. He only hoped Dracula would not notice, the last thing he needed was the Prince of Darkness on his case as well. But Dracula saw through Victor's sloppy masque with an ease beyond normal man, then again, he wasn't a normal man.

"I was beginning to lose faith, Victor. A pity your moment of triumph is being spoiled over a little thing like grave robbery."

This struck a chord in Frankenstein, and to better hide his secret he turned away, praying god would not abandon him in the face of the devil's son. Luck was no longer on his side either, but he had to rely on something, and god seemed the only viable solution. Even after all he'd done to defy him Victor would always go crawling back to god. "Yes. I must leave this place." Victor rushed haphazardly around, collecting a few items and throwing them in a box. He secretly hoped he would find the testament for safe hiding, but in vain.

The Count was still blissfully unaware, and since he had no reason to be suspicious he did not try to pry into Victor's mind. That did not stop his worry of it happening so he quickened his pace, hoping his hastiness would lead him from the' vampire king's company sooner. Though some small part of him realized he would never leave, that among his work he would die.

Dracula seemed to know what he was thinking on that front. If not killed by him, Victor would be at the mercy of the angry mob on his front door, though honestly he would prefer the mob if given a choice. "Where will you run, Victor? Your peculiar experiments have made you unwelcome in most of the civilized world."

This revelation stopped Frankenstein mid-step, where would he go? He hadn't thought of the escape hatch, only his work. He was three steps behind and he knew Dracula wouldn't protect him. With Adam alive there was no reason to keep the scientist alive. He had been a fool before, a fool then and nearly now, but he would not trick himself into believing Dracula knew mercy. But he could hope, and he would. Victor had solid resolve to do so even if everything else was falling to shambles, the vampire could never know, so he settled for a feeble, half-hearted reply. "I'll take him away, far away, where no one will ever find him."

"No, no, Victor. The time has come for me to take command of him." A devious smirk graced the flawless face that was Dracula's, the skin about his mouth creasing in a malevolent manner that made Frankenstein's insides churn. A part of him had hoped this would not happen, held onto a dream that was far beyond reach. Dracula was never in this for his work, he was in it for himself. His words only confirmed Victor's fears, but he remained somewhat composed. Only somewhat.

"He's his own person, you...you can't control him, his purpose-." Victor was slowly backing away from the Count, watching as Dracula took purposeful strides towards his retreating person until he was backed up against the table.

Dracula's face turned dark, the very definition of malevolence. And his words dripped with venom, it was so potent Victor could feel his skin tremble like he'd been injected. "His purpose will align with my own, Victor. Make no mistakes of that. He is the key to life, to all me and my brides have tried to achieve."

Victor was sure he did not want to know what that purpose was, though he had an idea, it was those suspicions that led him to keep his secrets so adamantly like he vowed to do so in the first place. World domination. In the end Dracula was all like the others, all he wanted was to rule on a throne of sin above all others. Above mortals. He didn't know what he expected from the son of the devil, but it seemed the genius man was a prey to his blinding charm despite his efforts to resist "But why?"

"For such a smart man you are very slow on the pick up." The horror portrayed on Victor's face sent tingles of satisfaction down the Count's spine, the Doctor had every reason to be scared in his presence and Dracula's grin only widened at the elated feeling that ran through his dead body at the thought. He knew this to be especially true since his well being was not a matter of the Count's concern anymore. His indifference bled into his tone as he continued to address the Doctor in a most casual manner. "For countless years I've tried-and failed mind you-to rebuild the Dracul name through heirs. For a vampire this is a feat not so easily accomplished, and with the help of your monster my kin can finally be alive, and my name can become the most feared to ever be said in all of existence." The haughty smirk twisted, his electric blue eyes flashing as he shrugged nonchalantly. "Your work is they key to that, and you've delivered my ticket to success right to me."

If Victor had thought himself scared before, he was utterly horrified now. All along the Count's plans were spelled out right in front of him, he had been a pawn in a game of mass destruction and he hadn't even an inkling about it. He had surmised the Count would do something evil after weeks of letting his insecurities brew into full-fledged conspiracy theories, though none of them surpassed this. This was much worse than anything his mind could have imagined. Much, much worse. "My work could never, will never be used for such evil." Never again, he amended, not until my very last breath. The courage that was lacing his tone was considerable when one took into account the circumstances at hand, but his bravery could also be mistaken for stupidity, because even though he had the solution it was not as his disposal to use, so his mettle was trivial at best. Dracula enjoyed the false hope the Doctor had, he was going to squish it, just like he was going to squish Victor. Oh it was just so fun to be the boot that killed the bugs.

"I'm afraid such things are out of your control."

Victor's face remained brash, he would not yield even if it meant death. He would die a martyr and in the name of God—no longer would he participate willingly in sin. "I would never allow it."

A sharp peel of laughter echoed off the stone walls, causing the Doctor to jump a bit by the suddenness of it. Even in his moments of mirth—though presently it was more mocking—Dracula was utterly terrifying. "You would never allow it? For a dead man walking you have quite the sense of humor." He let the words sink in, approaching the Doctor in two long strides before clasping a cold hand around the base of his neck. His voice was no longer taunting, but a low growl at Victor's lack of respect. Dracula wouldn't tolerate it from a mere mortal man. "It's a good thing I don't need your approval, Victor, but even better I'd say that I don't need you at all." To emphasize the point his canines lengthened into pointed fangs before they sunk mercilessly into the soft flesh of his neck, sucking out all the blood from his veins until he was nothing more but a pale, mangled body with blood oozing from his jugular.

Victor was all wide eyes and flailing limbs as a pain like no other erupted in his neck, but he was no match to the four hundred year old vampire that was latched greedily onto him. He saw Igor in the corner of his eyes, his long partner's name dying on his lips as the torment brought a shred of clarity to his ending reality: he'd been played, so much in fact that he had every reason to believe his own minion was absent before due to treachery. Victor was a fool even in death despite trying to be otherwise. It seemed to be his fate.

Dracula pulled back, satisfied with the hefty drinking even if the copper taste was a bit on the sour side. Cowardly people usually did taste that way. He cleansed his mouth of the red dribble that leaked from the upturned corners of his lips on the back of his silk sleeve, reminiscing in the subtle vindication of sucking the positively trembling man dry. Said man was now crumbled at his feet, a barely fluttering pulse still beating in his chest.

His victory was short lived, vanishing when, from across the room, a large metal piece of machinery flew at Dracula, successfully throwing him into the flames in the pit of fire. The thrower was a man, a monster of a man more accurately who with quick, limping steps picked his bleeding father up into his arms and ran.

Adam was afraid. Righteously so; he'd woken up in a strange place strapped down to a strange bed with only some artificial memories and knowledge placed there by his maker—no, his father—whom was now bleeding out in his hands from a Nosferatu: a blood sucking demon that now burned in the fireplace of what Adam knew as home.

Adam had heard what had transpired, but like his father he would not be used for evil. He would honor Victor in the only way he knew how to: by being all good.

Adam ran, ran from the castle that was his birthplace which was now being raided by men with torches. He knew not where to run, but like the lightning above a thought struck him: the windmill. The windmill, yes, the windmill! It was no more than a mile away, and his long strides covered the land in fast paces, the only thing that held him back the gimp in his right leg. He didn't know how he'd thought of it, but he thanked his father and God above for letting that one thought run through his previously undead mind.

"Frankenstein!"

The voice was unfamiliar, and though curiosity had Adam almost turning back the screams of the grave robbers only made him double his efforts to reach his destination. Their clamor behind him caused the deep grief to rattle his bones, the anguish to consume him as he climbed the wooden windmill and stood atop its uppermost ramparts, his father in arms. Over the sound of the fire that consumed the base of the building he could hear the jeers of the grave robbers. They were none of his concern, the thick smoke that raised high above him did not affect him. Only the limp man in his arms brought his raging emotions to their pinnacle, and Adam let out a cry of utter sorrow as the life of his father bled through the wound on his neck and onto the monster's arms. "Why? Why?"

The mob quieted at the question, so laced with melancholy that it caught them completely off guard. Such a creature could not feel, yet here it was-crying into the cold night at the death of its maker. Perhaps with more emotion than a single one of them had ever felt, and so they were caught on their back foot. But their mission had not failed, the fire had weakened the base of the windmill and with one final lament the monster and its creator fell into the flames, the structure collapsing over it like a house of cards falling down.

The following silence did not last long, its fragility jeopardized by the whistling of the wind until it was completely shattered by the inhuman screeching of air-born demons. The mob knew the sound, and immediately they dispersed, running into the cover of the words with the word "Vampires!" fresh on their cold lips. "Run to the forest!"

Four screeching beasts flew towards the scene of destruction, three white and one a monstrous black, all transforming into the irresistible beings that were Dracula and his brides. All of them mourned the loss of the only thing that could bring their child back to life. The Frankenstein monster that could fulfill the progeny they'd tried to achieve for over three hundred years. It burned before them, just barely out of reach like some sick joke. Karma was just a lovely thing, wasn't it?

The Count was silent, the only thing betraying his slack face was the glazed over look in his cold blue eyes. They cleared, but nothing around him came into focus. The only thing he could see was the crackling of the flames, the only thing he could hear was Victor's voice as it recited things from past meetings. Something wasn't right. The Count in all his experience stepped back – figuratively of course – and began piecing together a picture he hadn't even known was being painted. Victor it seemed had much more up his sleeve than one experiment, and though the Doctor was a cowardly man he wasn't stupid. The Count had always been aware of that, strictly in the sense of educational genius, however it seemed that Victor had something planned, a backdoor if you will in case nothing worked out. The Count wished he had sifted through Victor's memories more thoroughly while he had the chance, but a charred man was of no use to him. The only evidence on the side of the Count's suspicions were that of his current musings and the recollection of having previously read into the mad scientist's thoughts.

The good Doctor had always been quite jumpy, but it seemed tonight he had been more so, almost as if he was anticipating something far worse than the grave robbers or the announcement of the progeny. Victor had always been shift in his work, but now that he thought about it Dracula could see how in some cases the Doctor was even more so, sometimes even protective of what he was writing. Then there had been the point in time in which the Doctor had secluded himself from all life forms, including Igor, saying that he needed solitude to think appropriately. This was of no concern to Dracula at the present, he had all the time in the world after all, but it seemed that Victor was not researching anything but information of private means.

Dracula was sure Victor had always been invested in the Adam project and would always have been, if he lived on that was, but it did not excuse his actions tonight. He was undeniably different, from the way he acted to how he held himself to even how he spoke. In the face of death the Doctor was scared but not for himself Dracula saw now, he was scared for someone else, something else. And Dracula has the inkling that if he found what that something else was, he would have his progeny back in full swing even without the Frankenstein monster's presence.

A dark smile curled at the prince of darkness' lips, and his once dramatically mourning brides crowded him, his sudden shift in mood causing theirs to become just as light – or should I say dark? – as his even without an explanation.

"Do not lose hope so quickly, my brides. I have a hunch that will lead us to victory.."

Four mouths curved into inhumanely sly grins, this wasn't over yet. It was only just beginning.

[Modern day, New Jersey]

Steam rose from a fresh cup of dark roast which sat cozily on a small table that was crowded with an elbow, forearm, and a blank piece of paper that was presumed to be sketched upon in due to the already faintly existing lines. Said drawing was supposed to be of an original take on an already existing invention, which happened to be a modernized tracker that was simple and less expensive than existing ones for Kyla. Such was not an easy accomplishment for the college student however, as not only was she exhausted, but she was out of ideas and nearly out of coffee. At the moment she didn't know which was worse.

Kyla was not happy with the rate of her work ethic as of late, it was so slow a mollusk would look like Usain Bolt in comparison. Usually she could jump right on board with projects like these thanks to her exceptional gift in engineering as a whole, but even that talent couldn't save her lack of ambition. That fact brought on a bout of depression, as engineering was the only passion Kyla had outside of music, reading, and doing absolutely nothing productive with her life. All three took absolutely no amount of skill, as Kyla could not produce music nor find a book outside the supernatural realm that interested her.

With a pout on her face, Kyla drank the rest of the coffee and pushed the now empty cup to the far end of the table for more space. Granted it didn't make much more room, but that was the last of her concerns at the moment. Lately, the dirty blonde girl's mind had been anywhere but where it needed to be. With exams on the way and the ever nearing graduation to all her engineering classes, Kyla could not afford to lose focus lest she wished to also lose her future and mother's favor. Not that she had the latter in the first place.

Hilda Thomson was, for a lack of better words, a complete and utter bitch. Or at least she was to her daughter. Kyla was unaware of what she'd done to be so out in left field of her mother's good graces, but the woman seemed determined to hate her daughter despite having harbored her for nine months in her abdomen. She was convinced that sometime in her lost childhood she'd performed some extremely horrible act that earned this sort of shunning. What she could have done she had no idea, but it must have been really bad for her own mother to entertain such potent ill will against her own kin, even if Kyla was considered the disappointment – behind her divorced father, of course – of the family.

Unconsciously Kyla had begun rubbing the jagged scar that lined her arm, lately the damaged tissue had been acting up, constantly screaming for her attention in the form of itching. Realizing the existence of the wound and therefore her lack of remembrance only managed to dampen her already very sodden moods.

Kyla often contemplated the fact that if she had control over her life that she would change one thing: she could remember. That may sound like an utterly stupid and useless request to most, but to someone that struggled to remember – actually, scratch that – couldn't remember anything before her sixteenth birthday it seemed like a plausible wish. No one spoke of the "dark days" as she called them, and the only token of actuality that she had the she existed before that time were the scars and the story that came with them. Though vague like the rest of her life was explained, her scars were said to have been obtained from a gruesome surgery where she lost all her memory in a wreck and had a number of metal plates inserted in her body to stop it from shattering further. That was all she had, and it seemed that was all she'd ever get even if it wasn't enough to satisfy her, but she had long since come to live with it, even if it was beginning to once more take a toll on her.

Kyla was determined, if not to do homework, than to nip this problem poste haste before it festered into the three stage monster of ice cream, sex, and movies like it had last time. No - she was definitely not repeating that phase of her life ever again.

One of the first steps was to remove oneself from an environment that triggered said feelings, so Kyla made quick work of leaving the café where a little kid had begun staring at the veins on her forearm with unguarded horror. She absolutely hated it when people did that, it wasn't her fault she looked monstrous. At least, she didn't think it was.

Kyla was sure once she got back to her father's apartment she would be occupied with some sort of invigorating conversation (note sarcasm) about fate and all that jazz. Now she didn't hate Victor Atkins, not one bit actually, because even though he wasn't what a typical father and should have showed no favoritism he did anyway, and more often than not it was in her favor. Not that her siblings cared all that much. As long as Hilda paid them mind nothing else in the world mattered.

After the divorce Kyla had been split in custody between her mother and father; her mother, the famous doctor in California that had money piles to burn, and her father, the mad scientist who was obsessed with astronomy and the sorts. He had a better living environment to Kyla's standards, even if the apartment was in the bad part of town it was right by Princeton, the college which she was soon to be graduating from. Even though she was of age to be living on her own at the age of twenty five she was considered 'mentally handicapped' despite having better grades than both her siblings combined without even trying. Another perk that came with her diagnosed long term memory loss.

So that was where she currently resides, having just flown in three days ago from Cali to arrive at the seemingly unchanging heart of New Jersey where Kyla could be herself without worry of her mother's constant butchering about standards that needed to be met and all that twaddle. Life had been mundane as it always was in her eyes. She felt as if she was existing without a purpose, almost like she wasn't existing at all, but being nothing around her father was better than being nothing around her strict mother she supposed.

For as long as she could remember Kyla had always been the odd one out. At times she wondered if Hilda wasn't really her mother and her father had an affair, it would explain why she was so different and why said woman hated her. Even at the age of sixteen and up Kyla had been the odd child out of everyone's children - she liked the supernatural a lot, which were only legends in the modern world. To Hilda that was how they should stay, she didn't care if her daughter saw a real life vampire, just as long as she didn't pursue something so crazy as studying the paranormal she would be half-happy. Kyla had been disappointed that her mother didn't support her love for the unknown, especially when one day Hilda found a book concerning small legends (there were very few, as little held factual information) and burned it in front of Kyla. Soon after she dropped the hobby, though she still found the topic undeniably fascinating. How could one not be enthralled by something they couldn't understand? Kyla supposed it was the scientist in her.

Hands stuck deep into the pockets of her coat, Kyla briskly walked back to the dingy apartment with these musings running through her mind. She nodded at the smoking receptionist as she entered, sniffing in the chemical tainted air with a familiarity that said home. The place was dirty and definitely not five star - maybe two if you were being generous - but like the nasty mold that lined the walls Kyla had to admit this place had grown on her. Though it was never good for essay work, or work at all to be honest (it probably never would be either), it was the best place to do nothing and not care at all about it. That was why she loved it so much, it was a place where she could be no one but herself and everyone would be cool with it. Everyone else was druggies anyways, so a struggling student at an Ivy League school was at the bottom of the failure list.

After a short ride in the creaky elevator, Kyla arrived at her father's room on the third floor. It was disorderly in the kitchen, as was the living room - which had a week old pizza sitting in one of the arm chairs - but the rest of the house was quite clean, and considering her dad was milking his money out of some old achievement of his while mom sat on a throne of bills back at the mansion in California, this was paradise. Even if it wasn't that classy it was her home, and she'd have it no other way.

Grabbing an already open bag of chips, Kyla crashed on the couch where the TV was streaming some old news channel that was talking about fruits and vegetables being shaped like real life objects. So far there was a tomato shaped like a rubber duck and two oranges that looked eerily like Beevus and Butthead. Kyla was slightly impressed despite the fact that the news had nothing better to air than this, but either way she wouldn't particularly care what was going on around the world as bad as it sounded. Kyla was having enough of her own problems already to have the whole entire world pile more on her.

She heard her father walking towards her before she saw him. "Good day? Did anything awesome happen?"

"Hm, well I went fishing and caught the lochness monster. Then I went skiing and saw the abominable snowman, we had a snowball fight, then I got coffee with Dracula to warm myself up again." She paused as if to conclude something. "All in all it was a mediocre day." Kyla smiled through her mouthful of chips, her sarcasm causing her father to smile widely as he sat down next to her.

"Sounds utterly interesting...tell me, was Dracula a good coffee companion or was he too arrogant?" Her father played along, Kyla's smile widened as she stretched backwards and set her feet in his lap. She shook her head in a mildly mocking thoughtful way, putting her finger on her chin before answering.

"Charming, but next time he suggested we get dinner instead. He said he'd pay, and I agreed as long as carcass and blood weren't the main courses."

They both laughed at this. Despite Hilda's extreme displeasure at Kyla taking a liking to the supernatural, her father had always been supportive of the hobby, if not completely encouraging her to do everything Hilda had deemed unproductive. Kyla supposed he was always so understanding because he too pursued odd hobbies, because as far as she knew his interest in fate and resurrecting dead things wasn't normal.

"Get any school work done?" Her father asked conversationally, taking the remote that had been laying between them and skipping through the channels in a bored manner.

"Not really, I've been having trouble doing the projects as of late."

"Is it that one where you have to reconstruct an invention?" Kyla nodded and her father scoffed in disgust. "What a stupid project. You are engineers and inventors, not innovators. Recreating something should only be done if there is a dire need for a better version or its just a waste of time. Busy work really, in my opinion."

"There's nothing really new to invent nowadays." Kyla said honestly, earning a quelling look from her father. "What? It's true! Everything has been invented besides time travel or cloning, but that's not possible."

"Not yet it's not," her father - Victor - amended, wagging his finger. "Besides, there is always something new to be discovered. Perhaps you could create an invention that helps you pursue the supernatural, that would totally revolutionize the whole world as we know it."

Kyla sighed, sagging down and into the couch like a deflated balloon. "Any invention I make can't make the myths come to life, you can't find something that doesn't exist."

Her father looked carefully at her, disappointment etched deep into the contours of his sharp features. Despite being in his late forties her father had a rather young air about him, but it was times like these that he looked much older in heart than anything else. "Has your mother really gotten to you?" He asked softly, "I had hoped you'd never lose sight of what you loved, even if it has been said to be wrong."

Kyla suddenly felt angry, not at her father but at how true the words had rung inside her. She'd always yielded like a submissive dog to anyone who'd said what she liked was wrong. She'd always changed to be the image of perfection the world had crafted. Kyla was angry that he was right, so she yanked her feet from his lap and stood up, hands clenched into fists at her side. "It's hard to love something that everyone else hates or doesn't believe in, dad. I wouldn't expect you to understand."

Her father stayed seated, and though he had every right to be angry at how she was releasing her pent up emotion on him he remained collected and seemingly unwavering. "If you love something Kyla no one can get in the way of it, you can't drop something you love because of other people."

"Don't pull that romantic bullshit with me dad, in this world if it isn't accepted then it shouldn't be loved." Kyla said reservedly, turning away from her father so he wouldn't have to see her face. She didn't hear him stand or put his hand on her shoulder, but when she felt it she turned around and looked up at him. Her eyes apologized for her, and his small smile accepted it.

"Sometimes you've got to live in your own world."

Kyla felt sappy as her father pulled her into a hug, but she needed this. She hugged him tightly against her, hearing the faint noise of his beating heart in her ear as she sniffled a bit dramatically into his chest. He squeezed her tightly against him, his arms almost choking the breath out of her. "Sorry 'bout that, I've just been stressed lately. I've been thinking a bit too much on… well, everything." She laughed awkwardly and mostly to herself, "it's just hard living when you feel like you don't fit in at all."

Victor smiled down at his daughter. He would forever cherish these moments of complete innocence and oblivion he shared with her. "Sometimes it feels like you're just living in the wrong place, I understand. There's no need to explain what you feel to me, we're much more similar than you think, trust me. You're as I like to say, an 'old soul'."

Kyla smiled despite herself, "That doesn't begin to cover it, really." They both shared a small laugh before Kyla saw something akin to remembrance flash across her father's face before he spoke to Kyla, this time with a much more serious tone of voice. He hesitantly let her go, either hand on her shoulders as he looked down at her. Kyla could see the reluctance in her eyes, and for a moment she was worried what her father had to say was bad.

"I need you to do something for me, since you can't seem to focus on work this should be the perfect distraction."

Kyla was slightly taken aback by the sudden mood switch, but she would happily distract herself from what just transpired and her school work. Her father undoubtedly supported her wealth of procrastination as well. This so happened to be the perfect exit she was looking for. "Sure, what is it?" She bottled up her other emotions and sounded casual, though now she was curious as to what her father wanted her to do.

"You know Greg from the antique shop?" Kyla nodded, she'd visited many times thanks to her father, it was not an unfamiliar destination for her nor was its owner a stranger. In fact he was the closest thing she had to a romantic life, as pathetic as it sounded, considering he still collected Pokémon and all the sorts. She thought that trade had died a few years ago, but maybe Greg was just an old soul like she was, just in a different area. "He has a book for you, waiting there. It's been pre-paid for so you don't have to bring any money."

Getting up from the chair, Kyla quickly left the apartment, only taking her Android and dad's car keys with her. "See ya later pops!"

Victor Atkins watched his daughter leave with a heavy heart, the cumbersome silence already taking a number on his emotions, even if he had managed to control it earlier. Doing what he's doing had to be the hardest thing he'd had to do in a while, but it was necessary, necessary for the course of her life to go the way it needed to.

He sighed, not answering her good-bye as he turned to the TV with a blank look on his face. He rubbed his cheeks and eyes that stung with un-shed tears. He knew better than Kyla could think about her problems, but hers were about to shift from bad to worse on so many levels that she couldn't begin to fathom. His daughter really was an old soul, but in a much more literal sense than she could understand.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. He shouldn't have acted like he did, he should have pushed her away and broke all positive ties in this world like he knew he had to. He couldn't though, couldn't bare to make his last memory with her bad. Because deep down he knew that had been the last time he would ever see his daughter again.

It had started raining not five minutes after Kyla had climbed into the car. She had retrieved the object of her errands with minimal human contact, the less the better it seemed. Even her dear Greg didn't stand a chance to her brooding, and she left as quickly as she could. She decided to just drive around in the outskirts of one of New Jersey's many forests to let herself simmer a bit. She was utterly curious about her father's request, especially considering the book was titled The Legend of Count Dracula. She hadn't the chance to look at it yet, but the fact that it was falling apart and held together only by a few scrappy pieces of string that didn't sate her interest.

Her mind dipped with the mood of the weather, her conscious going back to how she'd felt while getting coffee. Her life was utterly uneventful, she'd known that, but right now she was just beginning to really analyze how uneventful it really was. In fact the last thing she could remember doing that was considered half-exciting was saving a hairless cat from a car that was driven by a granny. Even Greg the Pokémon master had a more entertaining life than her, and that was saying something! So far her life had been a blur of expectations. She was told to go somewhere and do something, so she did. There was no objections, no fighting, and yet here she was at the bottom of the food chain for her imminent obedience. It didn't make sense, yet Kyla never had the heart to try otherwise. It felt useless, almost as if she was working towards a goal that would never bring her satisfaction.

Even with a mere sliver of determination she was sure she could change something, perhaps go to court and become her own legal guardian like every twenty five year old should be. Or she could have taken the classes she wanted in college and pursue the supernatural, not the assortment of engineering that was repetitive and too natural for her. Maybe even, she'd have a boyfriend to call her own, a group of friends to hang out with and do stupid stuff with over the weekends.

And then there were her father's encouraging words. He was right, she knew it, but she didn't want to have to realize it. Realize the fact that she wasn't living in this world that wasn't hers. Perhaps she felt this because nothing felt real at the moment, today hadn't just felt right. Usually she laid around, did her work and watched TV, but today hadn't been normal. It felt fake...artificial, almost as if it had been planned out for her.

Kyla sighed, she was suffering from thinking far too much about everything today. That life she imagined didn't feel like the one she wanted, it still felt too fake. Groups of friends hanging out on the weekend? That wasn't her! That wasn't who she was. If she tried, no matter how many rules she broke it wouldn't be real. She'd disappoint her family and in the end, herself, because no matter how much she wished to admit against it she tried to earn her mother's approval at all costs despite her determination to hate Kyla. Why she would seek the sanction of people so horrible to her she would never know, but it felt almost as if she was programmed to be that way.

She was missing the part of her life that shook her to the core, the mid-life crisis that made her see everything from a new perspective. This life she lived didn't feel her own, and now more than ever she realized that this was not where she belonged. These people weren't her people, but then that brought about the question that who was her people? She really should be living in her own world, not this artificial one that just wasn't hers. Her father was right, but how could she get there?

The vibrating of her Android in her pocket shook her from her deep-rooted thoughts, one hand leaving the steering wheel to fish it from her pocket so she could decide whether to answer or ignore. It was her brother, and though every part of her wished to decline the call they both knew she always had her phone with her, and that admittedly she never had anything better to do; so he wouldn't stop calling until she did answer, and wishing to save herself from the insistent vibrating and promptly thorough tongue lashing once she did answer, Kyla spared herself the misery and put the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" She had to restrain herself from being snappy with him, but it was quite hard, she didn't like her brother at all and to him the feelings were mutual.

"Had to wait two rings, I was starting to think you actually were doing something. I stand corrected."

Out of her two siblings, Kyla hated Harrison worst. He was an arrogant know-it-all that had always been mom's favorite, even over her younger sister – the soccer prodigy - Gwen.

Harrison had always gotten what he wanted whether it was woman, a grade, or even the job. Mom's occupation did have a large influence, and as it was so did her money. As a result Harrison was Los Angeles's best Defense Attorney and was making money big time, which only happened to make his already nearly perfect physique so much more appealing to the ladies. That wasn't even touching upon his abnormally inflated ego, either. His life was built because of their mother, the one he still lived with and relied upon despite being thirty-two.

Kyla didn't even try to hide her annoyance now, if she didn't think her day could get any worse she was about to be proved wrong. "What is it exactly that you want? Though I love our little chats," she said with an eerie level of calm, though her voice was dripping with sarcasm. "I'm never up for a waste of time, no matter how deficient you are in considering upon intruding my day."

Her knuckles whitened on the steering wheel as she waited for a reply, the road she drove on leveling out into a thick forest with trees on either side. Amidst her inner battle, Kyla did not notice the lack of signs that usually marshaled the New Jersey roads, trails and all. That was the last thing on her mind however when her brother's cocky voice jerked her already unstable emotions even more off course with his words. "No need to get defensive sis, I'm just making a point you and I all know is true."

Harrison, it seemed, did not know what stop meant. He had effectively poked a very raw wound before rubbing salt in it. She was already having doubts of herself, she didn't need her brother to

"I'm not getting defensive, just annoyed. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you called me for a reason other than to annoy me, so spill."

"Is a big brother not allowed to call his younger sister just cos'?"

"They are, in fact that's normal, however our relationship is far from normal so get on with it." Kyla snapped, now too impatient and emotionally unstable to care to hide her annoyance at the situation at hand.

Harrison huffed, obviously put off by her forth-righteousness but refused to yield. "A letter got sent here addressed to you, well it's not really a letter or of much importance, but mom said I needed to tell you what it said, though why I don't know."

Kyla ignored his near patronizing tone of voice, her curiosity tilting her mood in a better direction. A letter? Who would have possibly sent her a letter? And why not to New Jersey? "What does it say?"

There was a pause before Harrison answered, his tone slightly cryptic. "A game begun is better lost in passion than won in anger."

Kyla actually had to sit back in her seat, car slowing as the words were continuously repeated in her mind. That was not the answer she'd anticipated, in fact it only managed to rattle her more, and her curiosity doubled as she mulled over the words in her head, searching for a meaning or why she'd received them. "What?" She murmured to herself, honestly confused before addressing Harrison again. "Who's it from?"

There was a sound of the phone being manhandled on the other end and the slight sound of paper crumbling. "Doesn't have a name on it, only a return address."

Kyla rolled her eyes a bit impatiently, "Which is?"

"Six three six Geneva, Switzerland. There's a weird red wax seal too, kinda old-timey looking but the symbol on it is quite odd. It's a star with some bull horns... I think? Yeah those are definitely bull horns and some other weird symbols in and around it. I can't particularly make them out, but there's a cross in the background too, but it's a pretty intricate design for such a small seal." He paused, "You know someone from Switzerland, right?"

Kyla sighed, feeling an odd coiling inside her stomach. "I'm afraid I don't."

"Are you like studying witchcraft or something? I mean I know you were interested in that kind of stuff but I didn't think you'd actually, y'know, do it."

Kyla's teeth grit unhealthily together, her family was bound to think the worst of her, weren't they? Her brother, like her mother, had always looked down upon her hobbies, especially that concerning things that were said to not be real. Anger coursed through Kyla, she needed to control it. Rage felt like the backdoor in instances like these, sometimes Kyla felt it was the only thing she could truly feel consistently, yet somehow she always managed to keep it in check. As of late that had been harder.

The rain poured insistently harder on the canopies of the trees that covered her car, but Kyla's mind was not on the weather, not even when an angry crack of lightning ripped across the sky followed by a booming thunder that shook the Earth and all its realities to the very core.

She didn't have time to retort, for Harrison jumped in again after the thunder made itself known, not that her clenched jaw would have permitted it anyway. "Was that lightning I hear? Tsk, tsk, sister, you are supposed to be inside!" Oh how he loved to antagonize her, first with the patronizing and now with the knowing, motherly tone that his parent of choice always adopted with Kyla. He knew it irked her so much, and yet she'd never done anything to stop it so he always insisted. "Mother would not be happy with you if she knew… with the hazard of being electrocuted, you know, with all that metal inside you."

Kyla felt if she let anymore anger bottle inside her steam would start pouring out her ears. No matter how hard she had screwed on the lid nothing would have stopped it popping off under the pressure applied right now. Today it felt like she'd been carrying a ticking bomb on her, and the time had finally run out. "Is there not a conversation where you can't bring up mother? Or are you so reliant upon her that you can't live without bringing her up? I may not have an entertaining, tabloid filled life like you, Harrison, but at least my life doesn't rotate about my mom."

Those venom laced words managed to shut her brother up, and before he could fire anything back and she would lose her slipping cool she hung up the phone and threw it into the empty car seat beside her. Though short, the conversation with her brother had managed to send her thinning sanity into a more rapid downward spiral. Combined with the previous events of today, Kyla could conclude that today had, in fact, been not only the worst day of her life, but the most ground breaking one as well. Everything that had transpired so far seemed to be working against her like some machine, trying to convey the message that had been nagging at her for as long as she could remember, yet it only became clear just now. But she was also utterly confused, a letter from an anonymous woman? Though it seemed unconnected to everything that happened, a small part of her did not wish and would not cave to that reassurance no matter how many times she repeated it in her head.

Another crack of lightning flashed across the ominous sky, illuminating the interior of the car and causing a flash of blue to ricochet from the leather bound book and into her line of sight. Her grip on the wheel lessened considerably as she looked at the book, her brow furrowed as she tried to recall if it had really glowed like she thought it had upon the strike of lightning. Her mind was cleared, or rather occupied with other thoughts than what had plagued her mind before.

As far as she knew the book was made of leather, and leather didn't glow naturally even with lightning striking as consistently as it was now. She shook her head, trying to remove those thoughts from her brain and the tears that had welled in her eyes.

Kyla's tear-filled eyes widened and she jerked the steering wheel to the left upon seeing a deer sprint across the road, she narrowly missed it, skidding on the wet road and effectively causing her tires to burn out on the ground. She was off the road now, but what was more concerning than being off course was the tufts of smoke the peaked from under the hood of her car. Grabbing her Android, headphones, and the book, Kyla fled from the car, putting space between her and the vehicle as an ominous feeling settled in her stomach. She knew it was very hard to get a car to explode unlike how it was portrayed in movies, however she just knew something good wasn't going to come out of this, realistic or not. And as if on cue the car burst into flames, crackling before the front exploded with a boom! and reared up dramatically.

She gaped for a moment at her father's car, now up in flames and probably cut in half from the blow of the detonation. Her stomach sank as the rain poured mercilessly harder, though the water never put out the flames to the fire they managed to simmer any happiness she had left. Today really was a load of crap.

Deciding it would not do her well to get hypothermia and jinx herself more than she had, Kyla began walking home, or rather through the thick forest that provided minimal coverage from the rain along the path of the road.

Her mind was scattered, floating between thinking of everything and nothing until she settled for moping like a child would. It felt natural to question god's reasoning for doing this. She always went to church on Sundays, always said her prayers and never faltered in her beliefs. Not that she had a choice really - her father had always pushed her towards god.

Then the thought struck her like the lightning above, she'd only gone to church because her father had wanted her to. She'd only gone to school as an engineer because her mother wanted her to, only dropped her fascination with the supernatural because the world said it wasn't real. She'd only ever done anything because someone else had said what she wanted to do was wrong. She could blame the whole world for her life but in the end even if they were her ultimate influence it was up to her, up to her whether or not their words really meant anything.

Another crack of lightning colored the sky, the book responding with a shake and glow that went unnoticed by Kyla who was staring dutifully ahead. Her life had been a myriad of days like today, tied together and so consistent that she wondered why today even felt significantly different than the rest. Maybe because something had actually happened today, or the thought that something more could. The rest of what she remembered was nothing of real notice. In fact her life had been utterly insignificant and boring. She went through the motions, passed every test, tried to please the people around her no matter how much she convinced herself she didn't care. The rules in her life were her cage, and she never tried to leave it. She never questioned her position or usefulness, or the fact that she had not changed someone's life drastically or done something, anything worth living for. Her life had been a black and white picture so far, everything so simple and spelled out for her. All she had to do was the follow the path other's paved for her and she would be successful, content. But she wasn't, she had been neither so far.

The story that was her life had been written for her, her life was a game of chess that had been played by others her whole existence. Was she bound to do this? To be a pawn in her own life? No, this life wasn't hers. Kyla was sure that even though she'd lived her life it was not her own story. She hadn't created it or even lived sixteen years of it, this tale was too simple - without plot.

Kyla felt an overwhelming surge of emotion flood through her, like the floodgates had burst and was now threatening to drown her reality in surprise. They were overbearing, insistent, and burned at her insides. Yet they did not feel her own. Water stung in her eyes, anger shook her clenched fists, and sorrow heaved her chest. Lightning threatened to claim the sky once more as The Legend of Dracula began to glow a mix of blue and purple. It shook in her hands, but Kyla was too overwhelmed with thought and emotion to notice the disturbance. Power erupted in her body through her emotion, then the book was forced open in her hands, and the handwritten words flashed in sync with the strike of lightning and the twenty first century was no more.