Chapter 17

Chapleton, England, 1508 ( Renaissance )

A warm wind carried the sweet scent of nature along the dusty narrow streets of a busy Chapleton. It was a beautiful summer day--the kind which is neither too cold nor too hot, but always seems to stay just right--and in the central part of town people of all ages were out enjoying the kind weather and taking part in one of the biggest faires the populace had seen in years. Nobles, yeomen, servants, and peasants alike flocked around the many stands and booths, eager to get their fair share of what foods, fabrics, toys, supplies, and fine jewelry the sellers had to offer.

Merchants from all over the Mediterranean took up residence along the busy streets, each peddling this and that and showing off all the latest gadgets and inventions.

It was noisy.

It was chaotic.

Veronica was in Heaven.

Four years had passed since that awful night back in Stratford. The red-headed wiccan daughter was now 16, and had since traded in her more innocent, childish looks for the finer-toned features of a young adult. Flowing strawberry waves of hair glinted gold in the sunlight. Her skin, though tanned slightly from hours spent in the sun, glowed with health. The mysterious blue-violet of the night colored her eyes, giving them a mesmerizing, magical quality. Her form had filled out perfectly over the years. Well, pretty close to perfectly. Personally, Veronica relished the idea of losing some of the weight she'd gained during pregnancy. That would not be a bad thing, not at all.

Indeed, the quality of the fair maiden's life had improved drastically in the years following the tragedy. Shortly after relocating to a more hospital stretch of land, she had married her rescuer, James Stilling. Now she, her husband, two-year old son Kit, and year-old twin daughters, Meg and Anne, lived in a small cottage a few miles out of town in the untamed English countryside.

And, aside from the extra weight of course, life just seemed to be getting better and better.

James had fallen in good with some of the more upper-class people and his social status had risen. Now he made money as a carpenter. While it didn't make them rich, it put food on the table plus left a little over for daily expenses and the purchase of a few livestock.

Having a husband which earned enough on his own to get the family by freed Veronica up to spend as much time as she needed with her new family. Which was quite a bit. You never knew just how much work babies were until you had some. The new mother seldom got a chance to rest between making sure the twins were fed, clothed, bathed, and cared for. And little Kit was lively as a chipmunk, constantly crawling around the floors and putting a great deal of things he shouldn't into his mouth. In fact, this nasty habit had gotten him sick once already when he'd drunken some bacteria-infested water from a mud puddle outside.

Veronica loved all her children very dearly. Their ills were her ills. She would run to Hell and back for them. She strived to be the best mother she could.

But try as she may, Veronica Stilling simply was not capable of watching three babies at once. Not without James's help. And he was gone a good part of each day. Cheers.

Today was one of the rare exceptions. James had the day off, and he had been more than happy to spend some good old-fashioned fatherly time with his offspring while their mother took a much-needed break to go shopping. Always thinking ahead, he was planning on starting a garden soon so the family could grow some of their own fruits and vegetables, slashing the amount they spent on food.

Pick out a few hearty plant seeds while you're there, he had said, handing Veronica a few coins to spend at the faire, Cabbage, melons, and carrots would be best. Then he had kissed her sweetly on the lips and sent her merrily on her way with a tail-warning of Oh, and Veronica, please, no more candles!

Of course, James may as well have been talking to Kit for all the good it did him. Veronica had already slipped off into a dream world all her own.

Shopping! The very meaning of life!

And what better place than the faire? It was the talk of the town--a major event.

A dream come true.

But dreams can sometimes turn into nightmares.

Veronica was barely on the outskirts of the faire, minding her own business, when it happened. A dashing jewelry stand stationed regally between a clothes-peddler and a horseshoe-seller caught the young housewife's eye and teased her with it's sparkling bobbles. Jewelry! Veronica had always adored fine gems. They reminded her of stars twinkling in the nighttime sky. Of magic. And hope.

Temptation called, and for a moment Veronica fought it. She really didn't have the money to buy any jewelry. What was the point in getting all excited over something she could not have? But it can't hurt to just look, part of her argued, Not all these salespeople are out to swindle unsuspecting consumers out of a deal. Hmm. Maybe I'll find something really pretty for cheap! I could use a new necklace...

That was that. Peas and carrots, or whatever the heck it was that James wanted, could just wait. An excited Veronica trotted over to the stand, straw-woven basket bouncing merrily in her hand.

The elderly woman behind the table looked up and flashed her a smile full of crooked, yellow teeth. " 'Afternoon Miss! How may I help ye today? "

Huh? Veronica paused, tilting her head to one side, eying the woman curiously. English! Uh-oh! She winced, feeling like a fish out of water. Why did it have to be English?

Ever since they'd been together, James had been trying to teach her the language. Each day he insisted she was making progress, and each day Veronica couldn't help but to think that he was just saying that to make her feel better. For making such 'progress', English-speaking people still tended to stare at her oddly whenever she tried to express herself in their tongue.

It was all just a big fat bother.

Would it kill anyone to speak French?

" Afternoon Miss," Veronica replied in broken English, her powerful French accent betraying the fact that she was a novice in the language, " Just cooking."

The crooked-toothed jewelry peddler arched an eyebrow and stared at her strangely, as if she had just announced herself the Queen of England.

Veronica turned a pale shade of red. Blew it! So much for trying to fit in.

" I beg thy pardon Miss? "

Veronica heaved a defeated sigh. There was no use pretending. She would have been better off not talking and giving the impression she was stupid than opening her mouth and removing all doubt.

" Sorry. I'm not speak English good."

The old woman laughed, and it was a real struggle for Veronica to avoid calling her a French swearword.

So she wasn't good in English. So what? Plenty of people out there couldn't speak it at all. At least I make the effort! I'll bet she doesn't know French. Why can't I make fun of her for that? Oh. That's right. Because this is a primarily English-speaking city. And why do I live her again? I knew James and I should have settled in France!

" That's for sure! " The old woman snickered, then calmed down, noting the sour expression on Veronica's face and with it the dawning realization that she was in danger of losing a customer. " Really though, it's okay, M'lady." She tapped her withered old fingers against the white-clothed table lovingly. " Ye find one ye like? "

Shifting the basket to her left hand, Veronica bent over and studied the sparkling array of gems laid out before her. Some were clearly cheap trinkets while others shone with a more genuine quality. Necklaces, rings, brooches, earrings...there was no end to the colors, variations, sizes, and styles. Most of them were fairly reasonably priced. Pretty enough. But nothing to get excited over.

Having satisfied her curiosity, Veronica was just about to turn and head off for the veggies stand when a dazzling glimmer of red caught the corner of her eye.

There, blazing bright and proud in the sunlight in all it's splendor, was a magnificent bloodred garnet attached to a lavish silver band. It was the most beautiful ring Veronica had ever seen. The rich red hues of the gemstone fluctuated from darker to lighter depending on the angle from which light was refracted, so it was forever sparkling and glinting, never looking quite the same from one moment to the next. It's perfect! Now if only the price...

Gingerly, Veronica touched a slender fingertip atop the garnet ring. " How much? "

The old jewelry peddler's eyes lit up at the inquiry, and Veronica's spirits sank. It was never a good sign when dealers did that. She braced herself for the worst.

" Ah, thou likest the garnet ring. Legend has it that this ring was once worn on the right hand of the ill-fated Lady Depruét herself--the same woman the evil Lord Valerian murdered in the Forbidden Woods. A rare gem. I'll sell for say, one sovereign. A bargain."

Now of the few words Hag-tooth had said that Veronica readily understood, the price was definitely among them.

" What?! A whole sovereign?! Thou canst be serious! " At least, that was what she had intended to say. To everyone else within earshot it came out as, " Watt?! A big sovereign?! Thy not seriousness! "

Some people nearby chuckled, clearly amused.

Hag-tooth stuck her nose up at the outraged customer. " One sovereign." She repeated, " It's worth every penny. Actually, it's worth five times that. I will not be undersold."

Veronica shook her head feverishly. What was wrong with this woman? Were her underwear chafing too tight? A crown sounded fair, but an entire sovereign? It was madness!

Make that robbery!

But she did say something about Lord Valerian. That definitely piqued Veronica's interest. Lord Valerian was a reputed evil sorcerer who resided in the Forbidden Woods. Legend had it that he preyed upon hapless young maidens who dared set foot in his domain--subjecting them to the worst kinds of horrors imaginable before brutally murdering them in arcane ritualistic sacrifices. In fact, he was the very reason the Forbidden Woods were forbidden. Many people who entered there--men and women alike--never returned.

Of course, as it was with most legends, his existence could be neither proven nor disproven. A few persistent people claimed to have seen him just before sunrise and just after sunset, riding swiftly along the edge of the trees upon a ghostly horse with a white mane and tail and fur the same shade of pale silver as the moon. Not that everyone was taken seriously.

Many held such tales as just that--wild ramblings of an overactive imagination. Even so, the treachery of the forest could not be denied, and the rumors alone were enough to keep most people a safe distance from those 'cursed' woods.

Veronica knew this legend from her childhood. Margaret had loathed Lord Valerian and trembled at the mention of his name, yet she had also grudgingly respected him. It was common belief among the wiccan community that Valerian was the most powerful sorcerer in the world. Among his attributed powers were the ability to take any shape at will, command the elements, cause storms and plagues, slow time...even conjure Satan himself from the fiery depths of Hell. Even witches feared him.

Yes, the more she thought about it, the more Veronica had to have that ring. Whether Valerian actually existed or not was irrelevant. The ring was tied to the supernatural, and thus appealed to her in a way few things did.

Four years and she had never stopped practicing magic.

James didn't know it, but his loving wife now had the power to lift items as heavy as a hammer using only her mind. By raising her hand, she could draw small objects to her. She could change the color of her eyes to a deep, mystical violet. Sometimes she could slightly manipulate minds. And sometimes, just sometimes--if she really put her mind to it--she could make tiny sparks of colored electricity leap between the fingers of her outstretched palm.

It would be a lie to see that it had been easy keeping the secret. Every time she laid eyes on James--saw his tender, loving smile, felt his warm embrace...the way his heart fluttered when she was near...there wasn't a moment in each waking day she didn't want to tell him.

She knew he loved her. He would never betray her, certainly.

So why was she holding back? As her powers advanced, the secret was getting harder and harder to keep. It was more a burden now than ever before.

Still, she held back. Perhaps it was for her mother. Margaret had died because a bunch of silly, superstitious people had confused her with a witch. Stupid, stupid people. We never meant them any harm! Why couldn't they have just left us alone?

Veronica studied the ring, thought about using her magics to gravitate it to her when the woman wasn't looking. No, she decided, that probably wouldn't be a good idea. Too many people here. And accused 'witches' had gotten hanged on far less than using real actual magic. If she were caught performing parlor tricks in front of a mob this big that'd be the end of her.

Wishing she were better at negotiating prices, she dug the coins up from her purse and counted them where she stood. A sovereign, a groat, three pennies...and that's it. Gee, aren't I rich? Pitiful. Veronica moved the coins around in her palm, the sunlight reflecting fluidly off their shiny surfaces.

It wasn't a terribly large sum. And it was all she had. Rats.

Hag-tooth was impatient. " We have a deal or not? "

She was about to reply when a well-dressed man riding a white stallion started up to the table. Veronica almost had a heart-attack when he eyed the garnet ring, her garnet ring.

" Hey, that would make a perfect gift for my..."

" Sold! " Veronica hastily pushed her only sovereign into Hag-tooth's greedy hands and snatched the precious ring before Mr. I'm-So-Rich-I-Probably-Have-Hundreds-Of-Sovereigns had time to fully register. Then, in an epic display of sheer rudeness seldom encountered in such well-mannered parts, she turned and sped off down the faire, not caring who she shoved or mowed over in order to get away from the horrible, horrible price-gouger who had swindled her out of James's hard-earned money.

" Hey! Watch where you're going, Miss French! " One middle-aged man swore as Veronica trampled over first his foot, then his sack of goods.

Several other people had far less polite terms for her, most of them profane.

Veronica didn't care.

She had her ring.

----------

Alexandra. Alexandra! The voice rang loud and clear inside the youngest Ashford's head. Startled, she stopped what she was doing and jerked upright fast enough to startle Sultan. Bedraggled, the black and orange cub ceased his play and began to pace anxiously in circles around his equally-as surprised mistress.

Since separating from Veronica, girl and tiger had migrated down to one of the lower rooms. Originally, it had been Alexandra's intention to see how her parents and brother were faring. She'd searched for a good thirty minutes before the ever-playful Sultan had engaged her in a game of tag-and-pounce. And, well, tag-and-pounce had quite the way of making one forget one's worries. They'd both been thoroughly enjoying themselves.

Alexandra paused, a sudden dread welling inside. Should she answer? She'd long been trying to conceal the true extent of her abilities from her mother; fearful that one day jealousy would get the better of her and she would view her own daughter as a threat in some form or another.

I hear you, Mother. It was the sheer urgency in Alexia's voice which prodded the answer. She sounded desperate. In pain, even. It must be an emergency to make her want to telepathically communicate with me.

As far as Alexia had known, Alexandra couldn't communicate in such a way.

So you can communicate telepathically. Alexia sounded impressed.

Alexandra tried to quell the fear rapidly mounting inside her. Yes. It was the telepathic-equivalent of a squeak.

Listen, Veronica trapped Alfred and I in one of the top towers, I think. You have to come help!

How are you trapped?

We're shackled to a wall. Veronica rendered my virus ineffective. You must hurry! Her voice was fading fast, each syllable more strained than the last, which in itself was cause for concern since the words were spoken mentally.

Alexandra nodded. She would do anything for her parents.

Well, almost anything. She wouldn't kill for them, then again, she hoped she'd never be in a situation where she had to.

Alright. You sure you don't know exactly where you're at?

Alexia's voice softened to a pleading, almost child-like tone. I do not know. That witch bitch teleported us here. There is a door, but I don't know where it leads. Please hurry! Never before had the once-proud mistress of the Ashfords sounded so fragile, so pained.

I'm coming. Alexandra replied, biting her lower lip until it almost bled. Alexia had failed to specify exactly what was happening in that room, or what kind of danger her and Alfred were in. Alexandra had a strong feeling this was on purpose. It could be a trap--a gimmick to lure her in to share the same fate as her parents. Alexia's heart was so poisoned with it hate that that was actually a very plausible scenario. If she had to go down, all the Ashfords were expected to go down with her. She'd basically stated as much herself many a time in the past.

" C'mon, Sultan." Alexandra turned and headed briskly for the nearest exit, trying to collect her thoughts and remember where it was she'd seen those stairs spiraling upwards.

Evil or not, they were still her family. She could never abandon them, especially when their lives might be in danger.

If this was a trap, she was taking the bait.

-----

Back in the room with no windows, Alfred cried out as another tentacle sliced the flesh off his left elbow, trailing a fresh geyser of dripping crimson. Less than half an hour with the beast and already both he and Alexia were in a sorry state.

Nasty cuts varying in width, length, depth, and severity criss-crossed pallid skin at every available intersection. Arms, chests, faces--all were a raw, bloody mess.

So far the Nosferatu beast seemed to have it in more for Alexia. Her once beautiful, aristocratic face was now marred with no less than twenty cuts. The most serious of these was a sharp slash on the right side of her forehead, just barely below her hairline. Here the flesh had been peeled back, the wound cutting straight to the bone. Everything about her was ripped, torn, bloody, and ragged. Whatever magics Veronica had used, they kept her life's fluid from bursting into flame the way it normally would have.

Alfred's physical state pretty much mirrored his sister's, only with slightly less cuts. Outwardly, he was trying to appear calm for his twin's sake, but inside he was screaming. Far too frequently those screams reached fruition at his lips.

You deserve it. The voice taunted, speaking again for the first time since the start of this cruel torture.

No! Please! Go away! Alfred cried silently, Just let me die!

Really that eager to go to Hell are you? The pain won't be any less there. It will be amplified tenfold. Every insult, every injury, every slight you have ever inflicted upon others will come back on you. The law of Karma. We pay for everything.

NO! Alfred shrieked, spasming in pain as another tentacle of fury rained down upon his left cheek, laying it open.

" No-no-no! " He gasped, tears streaming from his eyes and mixing with his blood enroute to the floor. Why do you torment me so? Why wont you go away!

You seek the answer you already know, The Voice continued firmly, Stop being blind to yourself. You are your own worst enemy. You refuse to see the truth that is in front of you.

Crrrack! The tip of a hostile tentacle lashed Alfred's nose so hard that, for a horrible instant, he feared it was completely ripped off. But no, closing one eye he could still see it's shadowy outline through a curtain of blood. A small comfort. It was probably broken, but at least it was still there.

Veronica, Alfred seethed, You are Veronica's doing! She put you here to torment me!

You know that isn't true. The Voice countered calmly, I've always been here. You have been ignoring me for the past few decades, but I am as much a part of you as your eyes, or your fingers, or your heart beating inside your chest. I am not the result of Veronica's sorcery, all she did was lend me the power to speak stronger, to be more clearly heard.

Bollocks. Alfred was one unhappy Ashford.

This put a whole new spin on 'the voices inside your head'.

Slowly, and with much discomfort, he turned his face to Alexia, his dear Alexia.

Despite the relentless shower of blows which worried her figure, she remained silent. Silent and drained. Totally at the mercy of the monster. All the fight seemed to have left her body; was it just him or did even her eyes seemed to be losing their fire? She was looking away from him at the moment, gazing off into an oblivion only she could see.

Beautiful. Even Nosferatu's handiwork couldn't change that. In Alfred's eyes, she'd never been anything less than perfect. He wondered if she had a plan for once they were rescued. They couldn't hang around Castle Ashford, that much was certain. Not unless they wanted every square inch of their asses kicked by Veronica.

" Did you reach Alexandra? " He groaned, every millimeter of his flesh burning with pain.

Alexia opened her mouth to reply...and was silenced by a slap to the mouth from a fat appendage bearing cruel barbs.

That hurt. A lot. She shut her eyes; shut out the pain. No matter what punishment befell her, Alexia Ashford would never cry out. Not now, not ever.

" Yes. She's on her way." She said without emotion.

Alfred frowned, suddenly bothered. " You did warn her about Nosferatu, didn't you? "

Upon hearing his name, the creature that had once been Alexander Ashford lifted his head towards the ceiling and cut loose with a horrific bellow which shook the walls and surely must have been heard throughout the entire castle: " Brrraaaaaahhhrrrrrr! "

Alfred and Alexia would have given anything to be able to clasp their hands over their ears. When Nosferatu bellowed, it was like a bomb going off inside their eardrums.

For a precious moment the physical assault ceased as the great green beast paused to lash tentacles about wildly in the air, clenching his enormous fists so tight it drew blood, the whole while thrusting his neck back for leverage and letting loose with blast after blast of agonizing screams.

Alexia didn't answer her brother's question. Such matters were unimportant, especially under these dire circumstances. She watched as Nosferatu continued his vocal hurricane, the whole time visualizing the lovely shades of red his throat would leak upon being cut open. Then his fading body would twitch and spasm in the dance of death...Alexia licked the blood from her lips. She would have her revenge. In one form or another, if she survived this nightmare, that hideous abomination would be the first thing to go. Then Veronica.

Somehow.

Still need to find a way to contact Discord, She thought, tasting the coppery tang of her own blood, Even a sorceress must have her limits. She can't be all-powerful. Just wait, dearest Veronica. Oh humble ancestor of mine. Soon I'll be dancing on your grave and drinking the sweetest of fine red wines, defiling everything you ever cared about. Give it time. Your magics won't be enough to save you! She paused for a moment, tilting her head to one side, considering. Or should I kill you right away? Perhaps if there were a way to rob you of your powers it would be much more preferable to torture you first. Make you loathe the day you ever crossed paths with me. Yes, I think I shall. I will start by slowly carving out your eyes with a dirty shard of glass and....

"Alexia? "

Her thoughts of a gory retribution were interrupted by Alfred's shrill voice. She turned to face him, a cold, uncaring expression weaving it's way across her features. He'd better have good news.

" Yes? "

" Y...you..." Alfred stammered, studying Nosferatu nervously. It would not be long before the monster remembered the beatings. Ouch. As if it weren't already enough that he was being slashed open alive, his wrists and ankles all ached terribly in the cold iron cuffs. I can't go to Hell, he told himself, I'm already there. " You did warn Alexandra about Nosferatu, right? "

Alexia's stone-cold expression didn't change. " Of course not," She said simply, as if any idiot should know, " I had to be certain she would come."

Puh! She would have come regardless. The Voice scoffed, disgusted.

Alfred was horrified. " She would have come regardless! " He blurted, echoing The Voice.

Alexia shot her twin a severe look that came very close to being a sneer. " I could not take chances."

What a selfish pig. The Voice scolded, What kind of a mother is she?

Alfred wisely chose not to repeat this. Instead he said, " But perhaps if you'd warned her she could have come more prepared..."

" Alexandra is inconsequential! " Alexia hissed, her eyes a fierce blue storm raging beneath the droplets of blood dangling from her eyebrows, " All that is important is that she frees us from this place! "

Alfred's face fell. Alexia's right. Alexandra's well-being doesn't matter. I don't care. Idon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon't....

Rubbish and poppycock! The Voice broke in, You do care. Stop denying it. You love Alexandra.

No! You're wrong! I love no-one but Alexia!

That a written law? The Voice jeered, What has she ever done to merit your love? She doesn't love you. She may not even be capable of loving. For once in your wretched life, try to be reasonable.

Of course, being reasonable was one of the hardest things in the world for Alfred Ashford. He sniffled, hot tears stinging his cheeks, unaware of the utterly disgusted look the woman he was trying to defend was sending his way. Liar! Alexia loves me! She even said so!

The Voice chuckled, a mental action only Alfred could hear. Saying you love someone when you don't love yourself is like a naked person offering you a shirt. Do not mistake lust for love. She's using you. That's all she's ever done with you isn't it? Use you to satisfy her needs. She doesn't think any higher of you than she would a devoted pet.

You lie!

I don't, and you know it. You just refuse to see things for what they really are. You are afraid of the truth, so you hide from it. You go along daily life in a dreamworld; in a constant maya that everything is fine and Alexia has the ultimate answer to all problems. She doesn't. In truth she's just as messed up and confused as you are, maybe even worse.

No! She's very smart! She knows what she's doing.

Does she? Was it her plan to be killed in the Antarctic base? Was it her plan to be resurrected, and to fail again in HCF? Did she plot her fainting spell in Africa? How about now? Open your eyes. Veronica has you both trapped here like slaves. She's conjured the ghostly doppelganger of Nosferatu to punish you for the crimes you have committed against your own family. Yet you still have the nerve to say that Alexia knows what she's doing? Because if you don't mind me saying, as far as plans go, those all suck.

Alfred flinched, was unable to come up with a reply.

It was true. On a deeper level he'd been trying to deny, his faith in his sister was slipping. He was starting to realize that maybe--just perhaps--she didn't have all the answers. Maybe she was lost, too.

Admittance is the first step to recovery. For as much as Alexia wants people to believe otherwise, she is but human with human flaws. Her virus isn't some magical antidote that can cure that. She's not some perfect all-powerful goddess who knows everything about everything. She may be a genius, but she lacks wisdom. The two are vastly different. In some ways, she is more prone to failure than the kid who throws down her pencil in fifth grade and insists that any higher education is pointless because she already knows everything and anyone who thinks differently is wrong. Not all education is the academic kind. Not everything can be taught. Some kinds of learning require an open mind and soul. Alexia is not ready for that. She is in kindergarten along the spiritual path of enlightenment. Like a young child, she sees everything in black and white with no shades of gray. Either good or evil. Things are never that simple. Black can appear white where there is blinding light. Likewise, all it takes is a smidgen of darkness for white to lose it's shine. Beware the illusions. The glint in the water may not be the treasure you seek.

Intriguing. Alfred blinked, and for a moment, just a moment, Nosferatu and Alexia were forgotten.

I'm confused. Are you ? Or something....more?

The Voice laughed, and this time the tone was free of ridicule. For once, you are beginning to see. Conscience is the window of the spirit, but often it is obscured by the curtain of evil. It's as if you have spent the biggest portion of your life with the drapes drawn, never seeing what's beyond the safety of your own room. Yes, for now, I am your conscience. But few people truly understand what that means anymore. I am not some alien creature or foreign entity telling you right from wrong. I'm not Jiminy Cricket.

The Voice enjoyed a soft chuckle at this before continuing. I am merely a separate aspect of yourself. I cannot leave because I have always been a part of you. I only refer to us as if we were separate because this is the way that is easiest to for you to comprehend. Just like Alexia isn't quite ready for first-grade, there are some things you are not quite ready for as well.

Such as?

You'll see.

--------

It was fairly easy to find the room in question. Once that ungodly roaring had started up, it had been a simple matter for Alexandra to connect points A and B and follow the yellow-brick road.

Or, as this case was, the voice of the scary-screaming monster.

The things I do for love. Waitaminute, I'm starting to sound like Courage. Hm. Not a bad thing, I suppose. He may be an oddly-drawn pink cartoon dog, but you have to admire his loyalty to Muriel.

Alexandra stopped. A solid oak door carved with strange symbols that looked vaguely like ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics blocked her path. And just when you think it can't get any stranger. I thought Veronica said she was from Renaissance Europe. Strange symbols for her to have on her door. Too bad I suck at Ancient Egyptian, if that's even what these are.

She had no further time to ponder, however, as just then another hideous, ear-splitting scream rent the air. This was followed quickly by thunderous footsteps pounding the floor. Not encouraging. It conjured up images of a nasty ogre-type beast.

Alexandra shivered, backed a few paces away from the hieroglyph-ridden door. Why do I get the feeling Mom forgot to tell me something? Not sure I want to meet the owner of that voice. It's obviously not in the mood for company.

Whatever it was, it was waiting just beyond the door.

Sultan crouched low by her feet, ears flattened and a wild look of fright in his amber eyes.

Alexandra didn't blame him. It was against her nature to dash blindly into rooms containing an occupant who sounded like the Hulk throwing a temper tantrum. As a rule of thumb, that generally was not a good idea.

Dare she enter?

Any second thoughts Alexandra was having were murdered instantly when another cry reached her ears--this one more pathetic and definitely human.

Dad!

That was that. There was no way Alexandra was going to just leave her parents to suffer at the hand/paw/appendage of whatever cruel monster Veronica had conjured up. She was the only hope they had. Mustering up her courage, she reached out and opened the door. It swung free without a fuss.

Sultan cringed back with a worried mewl as his mistress boldly entered the lair of the beast.

And gasped.

Standing in the center of the room, lashing about insanely with long, wicked razor-tentacles, was a huge humanoid beast with sickly mottled green and black flesh. An enlarged and totally exposed purplish-pink heart pumped away madly in his chest cavity, looking very vulnerable and liable to burst any second. His muscles were large and rippling, like a wrestler pumped up on steroids. He wasn't wearing much in the way of clothes. Just a thick dark-greenish loincloth and a filthy blindfold that appeared to have been merged with his face after countless years of wear.

In short, he was repulsive. With a matching attitude.

Just beyond the monster were Alexandra's parents, shackled tightly to the stone wall and completely torn up with cuts and welts. The situation was much worse than she had imagined. There was so much blood it was hard to tell how badly they were hurt.

Now she knew why her mother had failed to mention that tiny detail.

She wanted to be sure I'd come. But why didn't she just tell me? Does she really think I'm just as cruel and self-centered as she is? If I were that type of person, all I would have to do is turn and burn carpet right now. There's nothing physically holding me here.

The beast sensed that he was not alone. With a vicious snarl, he turned to acknowledge this new threat. Alexandra was thankful for the blindfold covering his eyes. That gave her a bit of an advantage.

Or so she thought.

Nosferatu may not have been able to see the young girl standing nearby, but years of going without sight had honed his other senses in a way of compensating. He could hear her breath and feel the vibrations caused from the opening of the door.

He knew she was there.

He had no way of recognizing her, of course. Not that it mattered. Even if he had some way of knowing, any semblance of human intelligence or emotion had long since vanished.

Alexandra swallowed nervously. I have a very, very bad feeling about this. Quickly, she dared spare a glance in the direction of her beloved pet, concerned for his safety.

She needn't have worried.

One look at the hulking, tentacled terror sent Sultan fleeing back down the stairwell like a frightened pussycat. At least he would be safe. That was a better guarantee than what Alexandra had right now.

What am I going to do?! Out of instinct, she shut the door.

Bad move.

The behemoth beast began to sniff heavily, his four tentacles whipping about through the air like live wires. He seemed very excited at the prospect of a new prey.

At last, Alexandra found words appropriate for the occasion: " What is that?! " she asked, not entirely sure she wanted the answer.

Despite her obvious pain, Alexia still managed a wicked smirk. " Your grandfather."

" Watch out, he has the T-Veronica virus! " Alfred warned.

My grandfather?! It was too horrid to be true.

Alexandra put on a phony grin and waved a few fingers at the maddened monster. " Um, hi? "

" Mrrrraaaaaww! " Nosferatu greeted. Then he charged.

Alexandra leapt aside, barely in the nick of time. " What do I do?! " She called, frantic.

" Get me down! " Alexia demanded, " You may have to kill him first."

Alexia's daughter crouched into a spinning roll--a bladed tentacle swiping the air directly overhead. " Kill him? You must be joking! " Regaining her feet, she shot up and reached the enforced-iron chains holding her parents in two bounds.

Behind her, Nosferatu was not a happy camper. Having missed his target yet again, he hissed in a wild rage, explaining his feelings. It wasn't a pleasant sound.

There was no time to lose. Alexandra quickly began to yank first Alfred's chains, then Alexia's.

No use. The metal held firmly, not even weakened by her efforts.

" Don't you think I already tried that? " Alexia grumped from overhead, her frown deep enough to sink the Titanic, " Not that I don't appreciate the effort, but you're going to have to try something else."

Easy for you to say. Alexandra thought, wondering what in the world she was going to do about unbreakable chains and an unkillable monster constantly on her behind giving her the feeling of a small car about to be rammed off the road by a tailgating semi.

" Look out! " Alfred's warning came an instant too late.

A crazed tentacle cracked through the air like a bullwhip and belted Alexandra in the side, sending her flying clear across to the other side of the room where she collided with a hard stone wall.

Ouch! She staggered to her feet with the unchallenged grace of a drunken zombie, tentively eyeing the wide gash in her clothes. A red line blossomed across the exposed flesh, blood dripping into fire.

" Going to have to be faster than that, Darling Daughter." Alexia actually seemed amused by the life and death battle taking place between her daughter and the abomination that had once been her father.

Alfred was anything but. He looked on in silent horror as Nosferatu moved in for he kill.

" Stay away from me! " Alexandra spat at the creature, her stance and false boldness comparable to a tiny kitten spitting at a much larger predator. She raised her wrists defiantly. That was when she noticed that her customary flint bracelets were missing. Without them, she wouldn't be able to spark a fire for her wrist-jets.

Bugger. What did I do with those? Oh. That's right. I didn't put them on today. They're in the top drawer of my dresser in my room back at home. This was a sad disadvantage. What to do now?

Well, Grandpa Ashford certainly wasn't going to cut her any slack. He stumbled closer, unsure exactly where his prey was. He began testing the air with those godawful tentacles.

I hate to do this. Cornered, and forced to her extreme with such a powerful monster bearing down on her, Alexandra resorted to the last weapon she had. Swift as an arrow she raked the long, sharp, ultra-hard fingernails of one hand against the soft flesh of her opposite wrist, drawing blood. Because of the T-Veronica virus, her blood was quick to flow and slow to clot.

She waited for Nosferatu to come into range. Closer....closer...now!

As the beast stumbled into her line of fire, Alexandra flicked her wrist and caught him in a spray of blood. The red liquid exploded into flames upon contact with his sickly flesh.

However, there was one small fact that had been overlooked: the Alexander-beast also had the T-Veronica virus. Therefore, a little fire on his skin wasn't life-threatening. It was, however, just enough to make him beside himself with rage.

" Braaaaaaawwww! " Nosferatu was one angry monster.

Alexia shook her head solemnly. At first she had been amused by this battle. Two T-Veronica enhanced super-humans having a showdown--one with the virus embedded within her DNA, the other mutated...it was a scientist's dream. Invaluable to the scientific world. Then she had come to realize that her fate was now tied to Alexandra's. Like it or not, her youngest daughter was the only one who had half a shot at freeing her from this hell.

I never thought I'd see the day where I became so desperate as to call upon her for help. She sighed inwardly, I'd better offer her some tips or else she'll never defeat the monster. And I'll be stuck here until I die. She opened her mouth to offer this advice, but she was too late.

In a blind fury, the Alexander-beast bolted forward, making an educated guess at where his tormentor lie. Alexandra tried to sidestep, but she wasn't quick enough. An angry tentacle bowled her over, catching her full in the shoulder and laying it open almost to the bone.

" Aaaah! " She cried out as masses of her blood gushed from the fresh wound and ignited. Now she was also on fire.

Nosferatu didn't wait for her to recover. With a triumphant bellow, he closed the distance between him and his prey in a single leap. The floor shook when his big feet slammed down inches from his granddaughter's head. Before a stunned Alexandra had time to react, he lashed out and slapped her again.

This time Alexandra couldn't get the air to scream out. Fire, fire all around her, engulfing everything in a hellish red blaze. More of it sprouted from her midsection, where wicked razors had left their mark. The flames themselves didn't hurt; the real pain stemmed from the force of impact and those nasty cuts.

Still, she had to move. To lay still was certain death. If Nosferatu grabbed her up now there would be no coming back from it. She struggled to move an arm, leg, anything just to get away--to give her that much more of a fighting chance--but to no avail. Nosferatu's razor-barbs had a paralyzing effect. It was like every muscle in her body had turned to jelly and refused to obey her.

" Don't just lay there idiot! Move! " Came Alexia's words of encouragement. Just as she had suspected, Nosferatu was besting the young T-Veronica carrier with little difficulty. It barely mattered that the same virus coursed through both their veins, or that Alexandra was fine-tuned to her virus whilst his cells had had no time to adapt. He was bigger and stronger than her. The fight had never been fair from the start.

Alfred could take it no longer. Seeing his daughter like this...so pitiful and vulnerable to a beast that never should have existed from the start, was too much to bear. The lamb before the slaughter.

No.

He wouldn't allow it. He wasn't about to just stand idly by while his daughter, one of the few people in the world he actually cared about, got ripped to shreds. A new strength surged within him, along with a new feeling. He wasn't sure what it was yet, but it made him feel strangely proud of the insanely stupid thing he was about to do.

" Hey Nose-wipe jerk-ku! " He catcalled, straining extra-hard to make his voice as high-pitched and annoying as possible, " Ever stop to think why Alexia and I mutated you? You were a lousy excuse for a father. The saddest failure since peanutbutter and mayonnaise sandwiches."

Nosferatu looked up. Well, maybe not so much looked as turned his head in Alfred's direction. For a moment, Alexandra was forgotten.

Alexia shot her brother an incredulous look. What are you doing? Are you mad?

Despite his nerves, Alfred managed the telepathic equivalent of a chuckle. Probably. He agreed, But what choice do I have?

He continued his assault on the monster, " So I have your attention now, do I dumbass? That's right, you know you're a failure. You know what the hardest part of all was back in my childhood? Pretending I liked you, that I actually gave a rat's ass about you and your stupid..."

The beast roared.

" ...meaningless..."

He turned away from Alexandra and charged; a fiery demon of fury. " ...research! "

Four tentacles lashed Alfred in four different places. His taunts turned to screams as half his face was ripped off in one blow, an action which caused even Alexia to squirm in discomfort.

The pain was like nothing ever experienced. Worse than the guillotine, really. At least with getting your head chopped off the pain was quick and brief. Not so with half your face being demolished with blades that looked like they belonged on the feet of the velociraptors in the movie Jurassic Park.

Still, through all the excruciating pain and cascades of blood, he managed to make his kamikazi-esque action worthwhile. " Alexandra! Run! You can't beat Nosferatu, get Veronica! You want to save us? Convince her to save us! It's the only way! Go! "

Even as these words were spoken, the virus within Alexandra's body was already hard at work countering the effects of the paralysis. When she tried again to get up, to heed her father's advice, her legs worked perfectly.

She shot one last, heartbroken glance over her shoulder before streaking for the door. " I'll be back. I promise." And with that she was gone, leaving her parents to Nosferatu's mercy, but with a faint glimmer of hope at salvation.