Author's Note: I bow humbly before the readers of this fic, and implore their forgiveness for my neglect. This story has forever been buzzing in my brain but evil Anime (Inuyasha) and life has hindered it's completion. Accept this small chapter as a token of my intentions. Expect more later.

Chapter Seven: Battle and Surrender

He was born Vladislaus of the Dragon, but everyone called him Vlad Dracula. He had been born to Count Valerious Dracul and his Romany wife Meriya. As a child, and the Count's heir Vladislaus had been groomed to prefect: versed in the ancient rites of his people, and raised to love his Goddess. As a teenager, and as the moods and powers changed across Romania he'd been baptized by the Church and thus began Dracula's choreographed dance of piety. He had fought for the Jewish God, married the Christian wife and said all the right Latin prayers (even as he whispered the old benedictions to be heard by his heart and the goddess.) He loved his father, his brother and his kin. He had loved Gabriel.

And somewhere in the middle of his solo performance, Vladislaus had slipped.

He had stumbled, became disoriented and lost and in his blind groping of the dark, Vladislaus made a terrible, damning mistake. He ransomed his soul to the Devil.

Karl mumbled his way through the story as he knew it. He felt sick as he recounted: act by act all the evils that had become synonymous with Vladislaus of the Dragon: Count Dracula. He spoke until his voice became a dull drone that painted a history of four hundreds years of sin and murder, pain and blasphemy, war and scourge.

For his part, Vladislaus took it well.

The Count was on his knees choking up the poison from his lungs all over Gabriel's favorite overcoat. He had expelled his dinner and most of his lunch long ago and now there was only a dry heave that was choked at intervals by sobs and cracked, panicked curses in Romany.

"Verona."

Karl blinked and looked down at his charge, weak and emotionally spent himself. "What?"

"Verona." Vladislaus whispered again. "Marishka. Aleera."

Karl swallowed, "Your brides. They were the guiding factor in your last attempt to take on the Throne of God. They wanted…"

"Life." Vlad said with conviction. He looked up at Karl through blearily tear-soaked eyes. "That's all anyone ever wants, isn't it?"

"Some things can come at too high a cost."

"And how was I to know?"

"I don't know."

"Am I damned?"

"I don't know."

"Do you know anything?" Vladislaus hissed, pulling away to walk towards the window. He pushed open the curtain to stare outside, then flinched as the sunlight burned his arm slightly. Inwardly, Vladislaus winced. "What is to become of me?"

"That's for you to decide." Karl stood. "Regardless of your past, Vladislaus, you've been given an opportunity to make amends. People would kill for that."

Vladislaus laughed. "I have."

"And this begs the question, what is left for you? You've sold your soul, now how do you intend to get it back?"

"I was of the mind there's no coming back from what I did."

"As long as there is life, there is hope."

"Is that what you call this?" Vlad asked. He turned, but fell silent as another figure appeared in the door. "Life?"

Moshe strolled in quietly, crossing the room and nestling into a large chair that faced them both. When she looked up, her eyes caught the light and reflected them back, like a cat. She crossed one leg over the other and tilted her head, watching him for a long time. "No." She whispered finally. "I'd call it hope."

"I know what you are now." Vlad told her harshly. "And I'm not afraid."

"Neither would I, if I were in your place." She returned. "After all, in many ways you are now and will forever be my superior." She leaned forward, folding her hands together. "You are Count Dracula; your hands bear the blood of hundreds, thousands. You sought to take on the Throne of God himself…"

"Moshe…" Karl warned, but the Vampire ignored him.

"And you succeeded." She finished. "You are the only one who has ever made Heaven and Hell stop to take notice. You took the power of Hell and made it your own. Do you know how many of our kind would gladly follow you now?" She motioned to him. "Even as you are."

Vladislaus turned away from her. "You speak as if I should be proud of this."

"Shouldn't you? You are a warrior, aren't you?"

"I never wanted war! I never wanted any of this."

"Then why did you ask for it?"

"I never…"

"Stop." Moshe hissed, angrily. "Think before you damn yourself with lies."

Dracula jerked away from her and Karl and turned to look down. His memory was pressing at the forefront of his skull, begging him to recall what had passed years ago. He saw Catherine first of all, and the searing hate that followed it. He felt his knuckles ache, and body coil for revenge hundreds of years denied. He had killed Catherine. He knew this from somewhere back in his mind. But it had been a half-victory. He remembered taking the life, seeing his step-mother's body wan into nothingness but had felt no joy from it; no grim satisfaction that his justice had been whole.

He had felt hollow.

A feeling that continued to plague him long after those shallow victories. Vladislaus inhaled deeply, trying to keep his thoughts centered on something real. He wanted something that would seem real to him in this ocean of memories and in the shadow of this terrible truth.

He felt Karl's arm on his shoulder. Turning, Vlad gave the priest the smallest of smiles: a weak thankful gesture.

He might have been a monster. He wasn't anymore.

"Those two that attacked us," Karl whispered as he returned his gaze to Moshe. "Who were they?"

"I don't know."

"I do." Vladislaus whispered. "I…almost remember them. They're Gods."

"Blasphemy."

Moshe, on the other hand, had paled. "Complicated is what this is. How could a Jinn like Lazarus be powerful enough to enslave old Gods?"

"He isn't, not by himself." Vladislaus told her. "He must have offered them something in return for their allegiance. I know those two. The woman was Macha, the Celtic Goddess of War."

"And the other."
"Mammon. Babylonia. Karl should recognize the name."

The Priest had his head bowed, and raised it now to cross himself reverently. "Greed. He was powerful enough to challenge Christ."

"How could Lazarus purchases those two?" Moshe repeated nervously. "There's no…"

"There's something you haven't considered yet." Dracula murmured. "Maybe Lazarus isn't behind this."

"What do you mean? Of course he is…"

"Jinn can be enslaved, even Greed and War can be controlled…in the hands of the right Warlord."

Moshe's eyes were dark, and deadly. "Like you?"

Dracula looked past her. "Yes, if I had wished…someone like me."

"Rome should be informed of this." Karl said, standing. He looked very pale suddenly, and very young. "If there's something more to Lazarus' scheme then simple revenge…they should be warned."

Moshe nodded, her eyes smiling at Vlad. "Go ahead, father. I'll watch Dracula."

She waited till he had gone before reclining further back in her chair. Then, as methodically as ever, Moshe unwrapped her leg from the other and sat with them slightly apart. Dracula turned to watch her, his eyes intently on her legs before looking up to her eyes. There was callousness in her gaze, a thick hunger. He shivered a little and looked away.

"Did you?" She asked.

Dracula closed his eyes. "Did I what?"

"Control the Gods." Moshe continued as she stood. She crossed the room and touched his shoulder gently. He was surprised how soothing it felt. "I think even now you could, Dracula."

"I don't want that now."

"What do you want then?"

He turned and looked at her, catching her eyes. She was watching him hungrily. He realized somewhere in the back of his mind, that she was waiting for him. But for what he didn't know. He couldn't sense if she wished to make a lover of him, or a meal.

Before he could press further, she shrugged back her cloak, revealing her firm little frame and reached for his arm again. Her skin was cool and welcoming. It reminded him of his brides.

"Ask for anything," She encouraged.

Dracula bowed his head. "I want…the darkness to flee. I want this weight and fear that haunts my steps to be gone. I want to be the man I was, damn it all. I want things to make sense again. I want Rome to be safe, Gabriel and Karl to be safe. I want to know, I'm not the monster they say…or that I don't have to be anymore."

"You can have that." Moshe offered quietly. "I don't think you realize how much power you still posses. If you wished it. Truly wished it, the war would be over tomorrow. You could stop it."

"How?"

"That is not the question to ask of me."

"How can I stop it?" He began to demand, and then paused as he studied her. He caught the hunger in his eyes and understood. She didn't want a meal, a lover. She wanted a Master.

The Master.

Count Vladislaus Dracula.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Vladislaus closed his eyes. "I have someone to lose."

Moshe didn't look disappointed. She looked reserved, as if understanding she would not receive what she wanted now. But she would get it. She had time to wait. They both knew that, then. Somewhere in the middle, or perhaps before they had even begun, Dracula had lost. He knew it, Moshe knew it. It was only a matter of time before fate itself would deem it necessary to prove it.

Until that time, however, Dracula would fight. Lifting his chin, and refusing to meet her eyes, he turned and walked out.