Austin, Texas 1866
Meredith Morris, a well-built woman with black hair, was sitting in her rocking chair, watching the sun set on her porch. The woman, sitting in front of her house, rocked back and forth, feeling the gusts of wind that were blowing small streams of dust through the air.
Her concentration was broken when she heard footsteps crept up on her. Her turned sharply at the direction of the noise, drawing a shotgun, which was on the floor next to her, yelling, "Who goes there?!"
There were two shadowy figures who, upon seeing they were at the other end of the fire arm, held their hands up.
A masculine voice sounded, "Merely two weary travelers, madam, I do assure you."
Meredith, still carrying the shotgun, held her ground, "What you want?"
The man stepped forward cautiously, allowing Meredith to get a closer look at his features. He was a tall, muscular man with blonde hair. A large sack was being carried over his shoulder.
The man's companion, too, stepped forward, whereupon Meredith could see that it was a woman. A woman with blonde hair and a pink dress.
Both the man and the woman looked to be in their early forties.
The man stepped one foot closer, "Apologies for startling you, madam. My name is Reinhardt Schneider and this is my wife Rosa."
The woman nodded, with a anxious smile, "Good day."
Meredith took note of the two's accents, which sounded nothing like the local dialect, "You folk are European, ain't ya?"
"Yes, ma'am," Reinhardt nodded, "would I be correct in assuming that this is the residence of one Jeremiah Morris?"
Meredith lowered the shotgun, gaining a despondent look on her face,"My husband-he was a unionist who signed up to fight for the Yankees."
"And is he here now?", Reinhardt inquired, with a hopeful look on his face.
"He died. Fighting for General Sherman in Atlanta."
The man and his wife looked star stricken, "I'm sorry to hear that, ma'am."
"And since Jeremiah passed, it's just been me and lil' Quincey here."
"Quincey?", Rosa asked.
"Our son, only three years old. Never even saw his own pa."
"How terrible…", Rosa sighed and shook her head, "poor little thing…"
Reinhardt spoke up, "Madam, would you mind if the two of us step inside for a drink?,", gesturing towards his wife, "it has been a long and tiring journey."
Meredith placed the shotgun back on the floor of the porch and went to open the door, "I reckon there would be no harm in that," then swung around to give the two a stern look, "so long as you take off your boots first. Don't be dragging dirt into my house."
Reinhardt nodded understandingly, "Of course, madam."
Meredith went inside the house. The couple moved to follow her, Rosa whispering into her husband's ear, "What are you thinking, Reinhardt?"
Reinhardt answered, "Hope that I can convince her."
"Of what?"
"The necessity of our cause," he spoke solemnly.
"You can't be…", horror began showing in Rosa's eyes as she realized his intent, "Reinhardt, her son is only a boy!"
"And, with him back, mankind's only chance."
They went inside, hearing Meredith bellow, "There's a glass of water on the table for y'all."
"Very kind of you, madam. Thank you."
They sat down and were drinking from the glasses, gaining refreshment, when they saw Meredith enter the room and sit down on the chair across from them.
Reinhardt decided the time had come to get the meat of their purpose for being there, "If you pardon me asking, madam, how much did you know about your husband's family?"
Meredith paused, thinking up an answer, "That they came over here, like everyone, from some 'Old Country', I suppose," when it came to her, "Jerry didn't talk about his kin much, though, 'cept that they came from a place called Romania."
"Yes, as it happens, your husband was a distant relative of mine."
The woman's eyes lit up in surprise, "Really?"
"And I traveled this long way to deliver to him a family heirloom."
Reinhardt reached into his sack and took out a box, Rosa whispering to him apprehensively, "Reinhardt…"
He slowly lifted the lid off the box.
Meredith came closer to look at the contents: it seemed to be a black leather whip.
"What is it, exactly?", she asked curiously.
Reinhardt began, "Pray tell, madam, have you ever heard tales of vampires?"
"Huh?", Meredith looked confused at when this subject had entered into the conversation.
"Creatures of the night-demons in the shape of humans that suck the blood from the innocent."
Meredith tried to continue with her query, "What does this fairy tale have to do with-", when Reinhardt interrupted her with a tirade: "Oh, I assure you that this is no fiction. For centuries, members of my family have used this whip-the Vampire Killer-to protect mankind from the onslaught of these vampires, including their king-the Dark Lord Dracula!"
Meredith responded, "Mister, you're pulling my leg here…", with a trace of annoyance in her voice.
Reinhardt shook his head, "Not believing, eh? Well, let me tell you that, years ago, while in battle with one of my ancestors, Dracula cursed the whip so that men of my line-the Belmont line-cannot carry the whip."
He took off his gloves. Meredith went pale when she saw traces of burn scars upon his palms.
"When the time came for me to slay Dracula, a holy man gave me a blessing which allowed me to use the whip for a time. However, once that task was completed, the blessing wore off."
Reinhardt reached into the box, "Now, if I attempt to hold the whip…", grabbed the Vampire Killer and lifted it up, and growled in pain as smoke erupted from his hand.
"My God!", Meredith cried in horror.
Reinhardt dropped the whip back into the box, giving Meredith a stern look, "Now, do you see the seriousness of what I am saying?"
Still in shock, Meredith nodded, "Yes, but what is it you want from me?"
By this time, Rosa was gently massaging her husband's hand while he continued his explanation, "I came to this land to search for a man descended from the branch line of the family-your husband. But now, with his passing, I am afraid the burden will have to fall on his son."
Meredith went pale once more, "Quincey? But he's…"
"You have my word that I will train him and see to it that he is ready when the time comes for him to face Dracula."
"Wait…I thought you said you already killed this Dracula feller?"
"Oh, if only it were that simple…" Reinhardt let out a weary sigh, "you see, madam, Dracula has been slain and resurrected countless times over the centuries that he has menaced humanity."
Rosa stood up and sat closer to Meredith, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, "I know what you're feeling, dear."
Meredith shakily made eye contact with her as she continued, assuaging her as if soothing a young girl, "You're feeling what every Belmont woman has felt, knowing the dangers and perils that awaited their boy."
"Momma?"
The occupants turned to see a small, black-haired lad had joined them, staring up at the two strangers seated next to his mother.
Meredith smiled and gestured for her son to come closer, "Come in, sweetie, these are…", she stopped to look at Reinhardt and Rosa with concern evident in her tone of voice, "family from out of town."