Old Loves, Old Lies
-by Baron Karza von Karnstein
-dedicated to Diane Neal
N.B. I do not own any of these characters. Dan Curtis owns all the Dark Shadows Characters. Joel Soissons and Patrick Lußier own all the Dracula II: Ascension Characters
VIII
Eric forced Quentin's head back, and sank his fangs into the sideburned man's neck. But just as quickly as he had fallen upon Quentin, he recoiled away screaming, smoke flowing up from his burning mouth, two long, thing burns streaking his left lower lip and chin where Quentin's blood should have been.
Quentin staggered back, left hand instinctively pressing on his savaged neck. He had been reaching for the small of his back with his right hand when Eric attacked him. Now, he whipped his right hand forward, tossing something to Barnabas so fast that it was impossible for the four medical students to see anything but a glinting blur. "Here, Barnabas!" he shouted.
Barnabas deftly caught with his right hand what Quentin had tossed to him. Liz and the rest could now see that it was what looked to be an authentic Cherokee hatchet.
Barnabas grabbed Eric by the hair with his left hand, brought his right arm back, and in a single, fluid motion, separated Eric's head from his shoulders. The body fell to the ground. Barnabas tossed Eric's head to where Lowell lay conscious, but in pain.
Lowell screamed when he saw Eric's head. He rolled onto his belly and propped himself push-up style on his knuckles, his eyes scanning for someone on whom to take out the combination of fear and rage which just grabbed him.
Luke pulled out his cross, and jumped forward to confront Lowell. The cross sent fresh jolts of sharp and excruciating pain down Lowell's body. He turned his face away, shielding it with his left arm, and tried to crawl away. His path was blocked, and his pain intensified, by Quentin who had pulled out his own shiny metallic cross. Lowell screamed impotently in agony.
"PLEASE, PLEASE! GIVE ME A BREEEEEAAAAAAAKKKK!" came the pitiful plea.
"Would you have been so merciful to these innocent souls, Lowell?" Barnabas' voice was cold and without pity.
"Yeah, Lowell, would you have given US a break?" asked Liz, her voice as merciless as that of Barnabas.
"PLEEEEEEASE! Make it STOOPP!" cried Lowell.
"There's only one way that's gonna happen!" declared Quentin. "Barnabas? Check inside Eric's coat, in the left of his waistband. I thought I saw the outline of a gun there."
"He HAS a gun!" chimed in Kenny, moving towards Eric's headless body. "The bastard pointed it at us."
Kenny rolled over Eric's headless corpse, pulled back the left side of the leather jacket and pulled out Eric's Smith&Wesson. "Yep! Right here."
"May I see it?" asked Barnabas, transferring the hatchet to his left hand.
Kenny handed the S&W to Barnabas. Barnabas released the magazine catch, pulled out the magazine with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand, and looked at the first round.
"Silver…the fiends!"
"What do you mean, Barnabas?" asked Tanya.
"I'll explain later." answered Barnabas, replacing the magazine, and drawing the slide back to verify that there was a round in the chamber. "It is time to dispatch this despicable creature to the master who controlled his heart long before he ever became like me."
Barnabas lifted the S&W and pointed it at Lowell. Liz walked up to him.
"Barnabas…if I may…allow me!"
Barnabas gave her the gun.
"Step aside, Luke!"
"But, Liz…"
"Just DO IT!"
Luke stepped back. Lowell gave a grunt of relief.
"Oh, Lizzie, thank you! Thank you sooo much! I knew you would come back to me!"
"Shut up, Lowell!" snapped Liz, forcing Lowell to look up at her."
"This is too kind for you after everything you tried to do!"
Lowell may not have felt the agony of Luke's cross anymore, but he was still too weak to stand up. The best he could do was prop himself up onto his knees, and then straighten his back.
"Lizzie, wait—"
The crack of the report of the S&W interrupted Lowell. Lowell screamed in pain as the bullet crashed into his chest. But Liz did not stop. She fired bullet after bullet after bullet into Lowell, until the slide of the S&W was locked back after the last round, and there were eight more spent cartridge cases on the floor accompanying the one from her first shot.
Lowell's lifeless head and torso sagged backwards, straining the cartilage of his now unfeeling knees.
Barnabas shifted the hatchet to his right hand as he walked over to Lowell's body. As he did with Eric, he held Lowell's head back by the hair with his left hand, and detached head from body with a swift, strong stroke of the hatchet with his right hand and arm. He turned to the others and said "It is done."