Chapter 2: Aftermath
"Are we there yet?" Carl asked timidly, cowering and running to Anna's side as soon as he saw something move. Flames from candles created an eerie glow, their shadows jumping over the icy stones.
"No Carl," Anna replied, a hint of irritation at the edge of her voice. Her heels clicked loudly against the floor, each step echoing up and down the staircase as they ascended. Carl's shuffling feet could be heard also, but were slightly muffled.
Countless bruises and cuts adorned Anna's once perfect complexion. A large knot throbbed on her forehead, and she could almost feel it start to turn an ugly purple. The deep gash in her right cheek stung horribly, the cold that numbed it helped only slightly.
She was extremely relieved when she felt that stake drive right through the heart of that horribly mannered vampire, Aleera. Anna wouldn't flat out say she brought pleasure in watching her whither and die, but it was a relief. One less vampire was always a relief.
The only thing on her mind now, though, was Van Helsing. Anna guessed the only reason she kept going at this point was to see his face again. Seeing the full moon outside the occasional glass-paned window only made her increase her pace.
"Would you slow down, please? My legs can only handle so much you know." Carl exclaimed, grabbing her arm and panting lightly.
Anna looked down sharply at him, but her face softened when she realized that her friend was indeed having troubles. "Sorry," was all she said, slowing down her pace so he could keep up.
"Oh, don't be sorry, just slow down a bit." Carl tried to smile, but Anna's demeanor made him frown. "What's wrong?" Carl asked, but quickly came up with the answer when she glanced at him through the corner of her eye. "It's Van Helsing, isn't it? Well, you need not worry about him, he's been through worse than this. Why, I remember that one time when he came back from that one mission, something concerning gargoyles and gnomes... Anyway! He was patched up and limping for weeks! And still he went off on another mission! Ah, Van Helsing is a stubborn fellow, indeed!" He chuckled as he remembered the memories he had shared with the hunter. It was a long list, he had been making his inventions and weaponry for Van Helsing to use for quite some time.
"Carl, shush." Anna said, attempting to keep him quiet, just in case something came to attack them from around corners just because they could hear Carl's loud babbling halfway throughout the castle.
"Oh, right, sorry." He said, blushing lightly.
"Don't be sorry, Carl, just stop talking," She glanced down at him, smiling and showing perfect white teeth. Carl beamed back, glad that he could cheer her up some.
The staircase abruptly opened up to a split hallway. Carl began shuffling to the left, but Anna stopped him. "We should go to the right," she said quietly.
"Why?" He asked, also whispering.
"Because there is another staircase to the right, and we need to go up to the highest level in the castle," she replied simply.
"...Oh. Right."
The friar had just started humming a soft, cheerful tune when they finally reached the top of the staircase, the steps opening to show a large set of double doors. Anna thought she heard a slight "Oh my" from Carl, his little head craning to see the tops of the doors, a good fifty feet above them.
"How do you get in?" Carl asked.
"We push," Anna replied, giving Carl a look.
"Right. Let's get to it then," he said, rolling up his long sleeves, but as soon as the icy chill attacked his skinny arms, he thought better of it and started rubbing them instead.
Putting their hands on either door, they pushed. Defying the look of the door, they actually opened with ease. Walking through, the doors closed by themselves. Wood and debris was scattered everywhere.
"Where's Van Helsing?" Carl asked, looking around at the broken equipment, and the pools of dried blood on the floor.
"Where's Dracula?" Anna asked, seeing a broken window at the other end of the room.
They walked on in caution, wary of everything that moved. Anna kneeled to inspect the ground, an entire fight scene coming alive before her eyes. Scratches cut into stone on the walls and the floor. Black blood mixed with rain-water, the liquid settling in the cracks between the stones. Clumps of black fur lay scattered around the room. Moving to the window where the full moon could be seen glowing in all its splendor, a pile of skin lay rumpled on the ground. Picking it up with fore-finger and thumb, she quickly discarded it when she realized it was Van Helsing's skin. But there was no blood. Van Helsing changed to his werewolf then, the black fur proved that. But what of Dracula? They must have fought viciously, pools of the black liquid was everywhere. Though there was blood, there were no ashes anywhere where she could see. The vampire must still live, then. But if that was true, where was Van Helsing?
"Anna! Over here! Quickly!" Carl's voice held a frantic air, and he was bouncing on the balls of his feet when she arrived.
Van Helsing lay, unconscious, on the floor. He rested on a pile of black fur, apparently the wolf had allowed him to take over again. Huge gashes adorned his naked skin, blood still flowing in places where the cuts were deeper. Anna kneeled next to his resting face, her hand sifting through his tangled locks. Red stained her hand when she pulled back.
"Is he alright? What do you think happened?" Carl asked frantically over her shoulder.
"He's unconscious, that's all. He is breathing," Anna replied. She put two fingers to his throat, "His pulse is weak, we have to get him out of here. From everything that I see around the room, the wolf inside him took over, and wolf and vampire collided. Dracula is still alive, and from the looks of the room, he is as wounded and injured as Van Helsing is, if not worse."
"What are we going to do? Should we use the antidote now? And what about Dracula's spawn?" Carl's blue orbs looked pleadingly at Anna, it was obvious he was just as worried about Van Helsing as she was.
"Let's wait on the antidote for a little while, wait for Van Helsing to come back and tell us what happened; we'll go from there. As for Dracula's children, let's worry about them later, I'm sure the people of the village can handle themselves for a little while. Alright, let's get moving."
Valerious mansion overlooked the tiny village in Transylvania, its intimidating walls of brick and stone making the wooden houses look feeble and weak. Snowflakes floated down the grayish sky, settling either on dark treetops, the already white ground, or on one of the many crooked houses in the village. The moon's reflected rays gave the snow an unearthy glow that illuminated the entire village.
Surrounding the town to the west and north was the Transylvanian Alps, their peaks invisible under the grayish haze and snow-capped summits. Their ragged appearance was intimidating. Along the town's east side, a large, flowing river lapped at the bricks of the mansion. Crooked, dead trees rocked gently in the icy wind, and snow settled in the crooks of their branches.
Set in the middle of the town, was a deep well, where only a few days before, one of Dracula's brides had hidden in. Along one side of the well was a concrete podium, where the Princess of Gypsies had stood the same day the brides had attacked. Crates were scattered throughout the area, filled with goods.
A few sounds of laughter, arguing, and just plain conversation could be heard if one listened with open ears. The most social of all was of course the bar. Occasionally, someone would drift outside of their respective house, staggering only slightly to the town commonplace. Once inside, one could see men drinking gaily everywhere throughout the room. A few delt their own set of cards at certain tables, hoping to gain a small amount of money from their peers. Young and old alike sat along the stools at the bar counter, the color of their drinks varied. One drunken young man attempted to sway the barmaid, the redhaired young woman looking oddly at the man while she casually leaned against the counter. A few men sat somewhat quietly at a table, occassionaly drinking from their mugs, deep in conversation. Every now and then conversation would drop, only to roar in laughter as someone let a little something loose.
A man in his late-thirties walked through the door, another average joe coming in to get the nightly drink or two. He sat down at an open stool at the bar.
"The usual, Ronnie?" the bartender asked in thick Romanian, drying a mug with his towel.
"Naw, just a glass of water is fine, thanks Stephan," the man replied, fiddling with a toothpick.
"Sure thing." He returned with his glass of water after helping another man at the other end of the bar. "Somethin' wrong, Ron?"
Ronnie raked a large, dirty hand through his already tousled black hair, "Just the wife, that's all. She won't come outside for the life of her. I dunno what's wrong, she just told me to go out for awhile."
The bartender nodded thoughtfully, "Must be a woman thing."
Ronnie nodded, taking a sip of his water, "I guess."
Suddenly the entire bar went silent. Everyone sat stock still, listening. "Didya hear dat?" Someone asked, his words slurred from the amount of alchohol running through his veins. They all listened, while a brave young fellow, not too drunk to walk, opened the door, jumping back afterwards like the doorknob was on fire. Craning their ears, they heard the beat of many wings, and screeching.
"Vampires!" This one word had the same effect as someone sitting at a play and suddenly yelling "FIRE!" People, drunk or sober, jumped from their seats, rushing to be the first out the door and safely to their homes. A few tripped on their way out, their bodies being trampled by the many feet passing overhead.
Once outside, everyone could clearly see the hundreds of fledglings making their way through the mountains, towards the small village. "It's the vampire's spawn! Quickly, go fetch the nets and bottles!" The bartender yelled to the barmaid. Her gray eyes were wide, her red locks sticking to the side of her face. A few moments later, she rushed back outside, nets and bottles in hand.
Ronnie, one of the few who were trampled during the stampede-like chaos, rushed out to help the bartender. His clothes were ripped and torn, and in some spots adorned shoe-prints.
People gradually began to stop running like maniacs, and started to think like clear-minded people. Seeing the objects in the bartender's hand, they swiftly went inside their own homes, looking for things to attack the fledglings with. They came back out with clubs, pitchforks, torchs, and chains. Soon the whole town had assembled all the weapons they could in the short amount of time that was given to them. The women and children stayed safely in the houses, cowering in closets and under tables.
The rest of the town citizens watched with silent awe, the fledglings gaining ground, and fast. At first, the only thing that could be seen was white-gray blurs moving as one against the mountain landscape, but as they came closer, each gigantic, ugly bat could be seen with amazing clarity.
Scanning ears were enormous against the size of the head, a light pastel pink coloring the insides of each ear. Slitted, bulging eyes were a pale yellow and portrayed a menacing threat when looked directly into. The nose was small, set directly between the eyes. A wide mouth held tiny, needle-sharp teeth. The canines were the longest and close together, and extra flaps on the lower jaw allowed even more teeth to sink into warm flesh. An extremely short neck gave way to small shoulders and excessively long and skinny arms. Two of their four fingers were a good twelve inches, though each fingertip was equipped with a deadly, sharp talon. Flaps of white skin wrinkled over the ribcage, giving it a shriveled look. Slender legs were slightly shorter than the arms, their knees also heavily wrinkled. Their toes were the same length as their fingers, toenails sharp, if not sharper than the claws on the fingertips. Body-size wings were attached to their backs, the thin flap of skin fused at the junction of the knee. A three foot long tail swung limply behind their legs.
The mob of bats viciously attacked the citizens of the town with no mercy. They were out for fresh blood, and they were hungry. A few cowardly men tried to run to their homes, only to be immediately picked up by two or three fledglings, their fangs sinking in the flesh wherever they could find it.
Throwing numerous empty glass bottles, a few hit their targets. Time seemed to slow down when that first bottle slammed into the head of a fledgling that wasn't paying attention, watching the massacre with detached interest. A dull thud resounded throughout the village, and the bat dropped like a dead rat. It lost consciousness for a few precious seconds, but it was immediately burnt alive as someone set it on fire.
Stephan used his home-made net to ensnare a fledgling, slamming it into the ground and jumping on it, hearing the satisfying pop as its tiny back was snapped in two.
Ronnie caught the tail end of one, bringing it to the muddied ground. Its arms and legs flailed as its wings were absorbed into the mud. Before the man could put the thing out of its misery, it took a few slices of skin and muscle in its grasp, blood flowing freely down his arm. He screamed in anguish and pain, his howl mixed with the rest of the townspeople as they were chased throughout the village. A renewed sense of vigor coursed through his veins, and he stomped on the head of the horrendous creature until the skull was completely flattened in the soft mud.
A few more bats fell before their brains finally caught up with them. A drunken man lofted up an empty glass bottle, a fledgling grabbing it tightly between its claws before it fell. Talons screeched against the glass like fingernails on a chalk board. Snarling, the bat dove at the man that threw the bottle, chucking it back at him with amazing velocity. He was out cold in less than five seconds. More monsters flew in to share the new flesh.
When Stephan attempted to catch another bat within his net, the creature fought back, pulling the net's handle out of the bartender's grasp. The fledgling snapped the netting with its sharp teeth, crunching the wooden handle under its claws.
Immediately seeing that their efforts were in vain, the citizens scrambled back to their homes. A few made it safely with minor injuries, others weren't so lucky. One had just made it to his doorstep when the bat's attacked him, wrenching the man from the ground and suckling greedily wherever blood flowed freely.
Ronnie, his left arm still bleeding profusely, swatted at a few of the monsters while he ran for the safety of his own home. Glancing back, he saw four salivating fledglings right on his tail. Keeping his eyes forward after that, he stopped dead in his tracks when two more appeared in his path. They hovered for a few seconds, looking at one another before they all snarled, showing ugly teeth as they charged. The last thing he saw was the horrified expression of his wife looking through their window.