Chapter 1: Cursed future

On a cold and windy night 17 years ago, a young woman, too young to be on her own at the dark hour it was, traveled quietly through the streets of a grungy part of town in Budapest, trying not to draw attention to herself, she slipped like a wraith through the alleyways, running like cobble stoned mazes through the city.

Carefully wrapped under many layers, trying desperately to save herself and the precious life inside her womb from this deathly chill, she walked towards the only solace she could think of.

Growing up in this foreign place, she knew the city well and could walk down the streets blindfolded and not get lost. Though this night, her destination would take her to a place she dared not go before.

Ever since childhood, she was warned about the witch that lived in the rickety old building dominating a vacant square, which was a taboo for all the populace. The stories went, that if people wandered to close, they would be captured by the witch and eaten for her dinner. But it was also said, that young ladies, foolishly carrying unwanted children would go and seek her wise help and opinion. Also, any of those brave enough to venture there to hear of their future, would also try their luck.

The woman wished to know her fate, that of her secret lover's and also that of her unborn child. The woman also knew, that no one could know of this journey, which is why she left this unwelcome visit to such an hour. She also bore gifts, payment for the witch, after all, she knew she wouldn't get her desired knowledge without gifts to offer in return.

Piercing blue eyes watched warily as she dashed across the street, one arm clutching the tiny parcels of payment and the other, clutching her small baby bump. When on the other side, she stopped jogging and warily walked a few steps forward, her terrified gaze surveying the place she had been warned about since a toddler.

Swallowing nervously and trying to summon up some courage, the woman walked stiffly to the rusty and dilapidated old fence. After, shoving it roughly to the side, she hesitantly walked up to the door, feeling the contents of her last meal burning her throat.

She lifted one fist to rap against the door, but before her fist could make purchase, a cold, gravely voice sounded out. "Don't lurk in doorway's my dear. It's rude. One might question your upbringing." The gravely voice said in a mixture of nonchalance and impatience. The woman gasped, her hand flying to her pounding heart.

The woman's courage dissipated and she was frozen in her spot, not daring to open the door or just walk away. To anyone who was watching, she would have looked like a deer trapped in headlights. The speaker made a sound of annoyance "For goodness sakes girl, just come in!" the voice said now very annoyed.

Not wanting to anger the witch, her shaking hand gently reached out and clasped the brass door handle, twisting it awkwardly. After pushing it open a fraction the woman peered in the dark room. But she could see nothing.

But curiosity and a desperate need for answers was overpowering her. The woman's legs propelled her forwards, plunging her into the very depths of the witches den itself. She swatted the cobwebs out of her way, pulling a face as they clung to her body. As soon as she was through the doorway, she was assaulted by the surroundings.

Dream catchers and various religious icons hung from strings on the ceiling. Crystals and tarot cards adorned a small table near the door. Chests and cushions made a fusion on the ground and around the circle of the inner area were piles of brightly coloured storage boxes with pictures of far away lands covering them. In the immediate center of the room was a round table with a black silk cloth, draped elegantly over it with a round crystal ball in the center, catching the light from the tiny rose candles placed around the room and throwing rainbows around the room. A shriveled hand with long fake frusia nails drummed impatiently on the table, the zoo of golden rings clicking as the fingers moved. The face of the hand's owner was hidden, shrouded in darkness.

The woman stood before the table, eyeing the chair, which was obviously meant for her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a movement. She looked up to see the impatient face of a middle-aged woman. "Gah!" she cried and stumbled backwards, in her shock dropping the gifts she had brought. The witch's keen, penetrating gaze appraised her. "Well" she said abruptly, "I can see what the prophecy meant." She said rather bluntly, fixing an ornately patterned black headscarf with gold swirls.

The young woman tried to collect herself. She looked at the woman before her. She was gaunt, skinny as a twig, lines of worry and stress marred her once beautiful face. Her skin was tanned, showing she had spent a hard life outdoors, the state of her hands reflected this. Her green-brown eyes held a mixture of impatience and relief. She was wearing heavy makeup, with cat eye style eyeliner. Large gold hoop earrings adorned her ears. Her clothes were a mixture between alternative Egyptian fashion and the traditional gypsy garb.

"Have you finished staring at me like a codfish?" she demanded, insulted by the young woman's staring. The young woman closed her eyes and reopened them, a wave of fatigue washing over her. She looked at her again; the witch was looking at her just as critically and taking a draw from a cigarette. The witch breathed out the toxic fumes. The woman wrinkled her nose at the smell, briefly wondering if this was doing her baby any harm. "Are you going to sit down, or just stand there like an idiot?" she asked her, one eyebrow raised.

The young woman appraised the seat again and sat down warily. The witch put out the butt in a rose pink ashtray, then shoved it under the table. The witch placed her elbow on the table and held out her hand to the young woman. "Give me your hand," she said, daring the woman to object. The young woman reached out and gently placed her hand in the witches. The witch held it tightly, bending her head over the woman's hand and closed her eyes.

She stayed that way for a while and the young woman's un-comfort increased. She wriggled anxiously. She opened her mouth to speak when the witch shushed her. The young woman frowned, insulted and tried to speak again and was shushed still. She glared at her bowed head.

"Patience young one" the witch warned the young woman, unmoving. Finally she looked up, her face blank, her eyes also blank. Her lips began to move, like she was chanting some kind of silent incantation and her face turned to one of ancient sadness.

"It's happening again. History repeating itself. They are too late, again! Always to late!" she cried, squeezing the young woman's hand. "What on earth are you talking about?" the young woman asked, trying to pull her hand away. She wouldn't free it. She didn't answer her question either.

The witch slapped the young woman's arm. "Do you want to know the answers to your questions or not?" she hissed, looking straight into the young woman's eyes. The young woman was alarmed by the proximity and shied away from her. "I-I-I guess so." the young woman mumbled now unsure. The witch nodded stiffly, "I would wager, especially with a future as dangerous as your infants." She snapped, looking at the abandoned payments on the floor.

This made the alarm the young woman felt grow. "What do you mean?" gasped the young woman, now very worried, her hands flew to her stomach protectively, trying to hide her baby from any danger. The witch eyed the woman speculatively. "Are you sure you won't interrupt me?" the witch asked, looking through narrow eyes at the young mother in front of her. The young woman nodded furiously, feeling a bit giddy. "Are you sure?" the witch questioned, raising one eyebrow. Again the young woman nodded furiously.

The witch sighed. "Very well. But I warn you, there are shocking items in your own, your lover's and your baby's future." The witch said, rubbing her hands together, seeming like she wanted to cleanse them of what she saw. The young woman paused then nodded slightly, preparing herself for the worst.

Again the witch sighed, rubbing her temples. "It pains me to say this dear, but I must be honest with you. You come searching for the truth, and sometimes the truth is harder to hear than the lie. But it is better to hear the truth, you will learn to cope better with the truth than knowing that I lied to you." she turned to face the young woman her eyes full of the same ancient sadness which was there before.

"There was a prophecy made, about 90 years ago, after a group of brave men and one woman defeated a wicked creature, straight from the depths of hell, well, at least they thought they did. No, the creature survived, and his influence remained with the heroes until their peculiar deaths. What made their deaths so unusual was, all died within a few days of each other, in the most ironic of ways, ways in which it wasn't natural. It was obvious to everyone they where murdered, but the murderer was never caught, it was merely filed away in the un-solvable crimes section.

One, a rich Lord whom inherited his father's fortune, they believed he committed suicide. He was shot by his own hunting gun through the head. He was found in his study, a scotch waiting him on his desk, the bullet cartridges on the floor beside him. Ironic considering the Lord was quite fond of hunting, and they used his guns and his horses in their hunt for the devil.

Another, a good community Doctor, he was believed to have died from an overdose of Morphine. The needle was found near by, the blood pressure band still around his arm. Again, Ironic considering that the Doctor used Morphine on his dying beloved to try and numb her pain, her death caused by the one he hunted. He was found in his sanitarium, the mad people wailing and yelling at his demise.

Another, a Lawyer, found dead, a letter opener in his hand. His throat was sliced by the letter opener, blood pooling all over the paperwork of a new house purchase. Yet again, Irony rears its head. This same Lawyer was the one who made the link with the devil unknowingly, going into his lair under the impression he was finishing off the paperwork of the devil's purchase of Carfax Abbey.

The woman, died by an unusual method. She was found in her bedchamber, the sheets pushed back ready for sleep. The post mortem results showed that she had been violently assaulted, just before her death. They believed she died from cardiac arrest, caused by the shock of her attack. Irony, complete Irony! This very woman was the one who the Devil chased after, the one he wanted most. He assaulted her while her husband; the lawyer lay in a slumber beside her many years before hand.

And last, but certainly not least, the man who is the most renowned. The wise old man who led the fight against the devil. His death is the most ironic. He was found on the steps of Carfax Abbey itself, staked through the heart with his own wooden stake, rosary beads covered in blood wound tightly around one hand, in the other, a lock of the dead woman's hair."

The witch stopped speaking, pulled out of her own world and looked at the woman before her. The young woman was a deathly pale, her bottom lip trembling. The witch smiled a sad smile. Yes, the young woman knew this story, but the deaths she knew not of. The witch sighed and continued, trying to remember where she had left off.

"But I suppose you are wondering my dear how this relates to you? Well, the answer is quite simple. Your lover, Arthur, I believe his name is. Yes, yes. Such a strong, handsome man. Mysterious and dark. But he holds a secret. A secret which connects him to the brave band I spoke of ere while. There is magic in his blood and a family tradition he is bound to take part in. Bound by the spilled blood of his beloved grandfather. The great Abraham Van Helsing. Yes, your Arthur is Abraham's grandson. Before the old man died, he trained your lover, teaching him in the ways of his ancestors, how to slay the vampire, in case his grandfather's enemy ever returned. Superstitious old man. Eye, but he was wise and right. Dracula still lives. And until this monster is vanquished for good, your children and grandchildren will join their ancestors in the hunt. The hunt to kill Dracula."

The witch said this ominously, throwing her hands in the air to add intrigue. The young woman looked as though she was about to faint. This softened the witch, who was starting to grow fond of this young woman. Lowering her hands, the witch reached across the table to pat the young woman's hands in comfort. "Forgive me," the witch apologized motherly "I have scared you, and yet I still haven't answered your questions. But before I do, I wish to ask you a question." The young woman was shocked. Why would the witch want to know about me? The young woman wondered. Knowing that any question would make her forget about what lay in waiting for her when she got home, the young woman nodded in agreeance, not trusting her voice.

The witch gave her a soft smile and again petted her hands. "How old are you dear?" she asked gently. The young woman swallowed noisily. "Seventeen." She said softly and hung her head in shame. The witch chuckled, the noise sounding odd in her gravely voice. "Such a ripe and tender age, pity that you wont age any more than a few years." The witch said sadly, still holding the woman's hands. "I beg your pardon?" the young woman asked alarmed.

The song on the record player changed to a grim tune, reflecting the atmosphere perfectly. The witch sighed again, looking sadder than before. "My dear, I am afraid your heart won't be beating for much longer. Your human life is limited. But do not panic dear, because you will not see the moment your life ends, you will go peacefully." The witch said trying to be comforting.

A tear rolled out of the woman's eye, falling softly down her pinked cheek. "Will I get to see the little one?" she asked softly, hoping she could at least hold her baby before she left. The witch nodded. "Yes, you will spend a few months with your child. But make sure that the child stays with its father. All the protection and love it could possibly need come from that man's heart. He will adore the child, no matter how indifferent he seems at the moment." The witch clarified

Closing her eyes and letting a few tears escape, the young woman sucked in a deep breath. "And my baby will be fine? Healthy? Happy? Safe?" asked the young woman, her eyes still closed, desperately clinging to hope for the sake of her unborn child. There was a pause. The room was still as the witch battled with the information burning a hole in her mind. The witch knew she had to tell the young woman, she had promised her the truth, no matter how harsh it was.

The pause was too much for the young woman. Her eyes flew open, her panic suffocating, coating her face and singing the stale air of the room. "Well?" cried the young woman in a panic, "what is to become of my child?" The young woman was standing now, her breathing heavy, her arms wound around herself protectively. The witch sat there, staring off into the distance, wishing what she saw not to be true.

Slowly and carefully, the witch stood up, looking as though she had aged 20 years in a matter of a few moments. Never had the witch felt her gift was a curse, never until she met the woman who was carrying the prophecy in her womb. Of all those like her in the world, she had been chosen. At first she was conceited, feeling that she was better than her fellow sages because of being chosen to relay the prophecy. It was only now that the witch realized the magnitude of her task, of the severity. "Well?" the young woman demanded again. The witch sighed and opened her lips to speak.

"Death."