Father
Author: H.J. Bender
Pairing: --
Rating: T
Summary: Velkan, now captain of the royal huntsmen, attempts to cope with being an outcast while Dracula struggles to come to terms with both his hatred and his love.
Disclaimer: Main characters, events, original storyline, etc belong to Universal Studios 2004.
A/N: I have taken a few liberties with ages and dates, though minimally. Enjoy.

I am the corner of all rooms
I am the shadows of all trees…
I am the nightmare of all fathers.
-Rammstein, Mann gegen Mann

VI. Love & Contempt

The gypsy prince was now eighteen years old, and though he had renounced the evil of his fallen saint more than half a decade ago, some still referred to him as the Son of Dracula in hushed whispers.

The demeanor of the whole town had changed when they first learned of Velkan Valerious' narrow escape from the Count's seduction, despite whatever attempts his family made to cover up the matter. No longer did the villagers smile at him as he passed, but treated him as a diseased leper who could at any time take their lives according to his whim. They ushered their children away and shut their doors if they saw him approaching, though still they saluted him for fear of being bewitched by the powers he never possessed. It hurt Velkan considerably to be thought of as a monster, yet he knew that this was his punishment for allowing himself to be so easily drawn into Dracula's tangled web of deceit. He accepted the harshness of his fellow citizens with his head held high, and resigned himself to being an outcast for the rest of his life with grace and dignity uncommon even for nobility.

The vampires returned to Vaseria and regularly took lives—men, women and children alike. Many blamed Velkan for this unfortunate turn of events, though few realised how valiant his fight had become against the demon he once dared to call his father. His mission had become more clearly defined as he grew into the man the Boris had hoped him to be: strong, skilled, clever, and driven by his desire to rout the wickedness that had cursed him for ever.

But while he had chosen to devote his life to goodness, the bloodstain that Dracula had placed on his soul at birth could not be washed clean, and Velkan would bear it until his death.

The prince had not set foot in church ever since his failed communion, knowing that his place was not worshipping in God's house, but battling on God's Earth. He no longer prayed, nor did he ever wear a cross about his neck again. "I do not need it," he told his family gravely. "Vengeance is a terrible thing, and I'll not sully God's hands with my hatred for Dracula. It is my burden alone to bear."

His relationship with his parents had changed since that day he and his father had been brought back to Valerious Manor after their ordeal with the vampire lord. His mother no longer coddled him, but treated him as a mature adult and rarely objected to his words. One could easily assume that she feared him, and seldom was it that she did not cry herself to sleep at night. Boris spoke less than was his custom, and he went out with his hunting party less frequently, the loss of his eye affecting his perception in such a way that his aim was considerably off. Though he tried his best to compensate for his handicap, it was difficult to re-learn how to shoot arrows and parry a sword. For this reason, Velkan had taken over as captain of the royal huntsmen with Anna acting as his lieutenant. While there was great honour in this commendation, the sombre circumstances of the occasion stifled any cause to rejoice.

A mournful silence descended upon the Valerious household, replacing the laughter and music and revelry of a happy life that had now passed. Duty took precedence above all other things, including emotional welfare. The only moments of light-heartedness that shone through the curtain of gloom were terribly brief—cruel reminders of times that had once been better. However, this made them all the more priceless, for no one knew when peace would visit them again.

Only Anna was left unchanged by her brother's new life, and devoted herself to aiding him in his cause. No amount of refusal could convince her to allow Velkan to deal with this task by himself, and she defended him from the hypocrisy of the townspeople with anger and frustration.

Anna knew that her brother was suffering, no matter how unaffected he made himself appear, and she prayed for his soul every morning and night. She remained his only friend and companion, the only one who neither feared nor pitied him. She supported Velkan when he stumbled through the darkness of his days, and kept him optimistic with hopes and promises of a future bereft of Dracula. Anna became her brother's very foundation, the strength from which he drew the courage to move forward without being troubled by his past.

The two became bound by more than mere relation and kinship, but by a code of warriors, such as that formed between soldiers who lay entrenched on the battlefront and developed an unbreakable bond of camaraderie and loyalty to one another. They called themselves the Knights of Valerious, and anyone that stood against them was in for a reckoning they would soon not forget.

Though Anna and Velkan were young and strong, their battle against evil had grown complicated, for now they fought both vampires and werewolves, and never knew when to expect the next ambush; sometimes it came in the middle of the night, or during days when the sun did not shine. The creatures Velkan once called his angels were now devils, and they ravaged the village in retribution for the prince's betrayal.

"We loved you!" they hissed through their fangs whenever Velkan arrived to disband them. "And you broke our master's heart!"

"Your master has no heart!" he would reply, and then drive them away with Anna's help. The brides made many attempts to harm the princess, but never her brother—their master had ordered them so. Often these encounters cast Velkan into a dismal mood, ever-reminded of being treasured by the same evil that he loathed. His defectiveness as one of God's creatures had devastating effects on his personality, which never grew happier, no matter the valiance of Anna's attempts to rescue him.

And then there came that awful day, just a few weeks before the prince's nineteenth birthday, when his mother Isabel went missing from their home one night. Every able man in Vaseria was sent out to comb the land with the king and his hunting party, and after two nights of tireless searching, they discovered the body of their beloved queen in the middle of the misty forest. She was lying peacefully on her back, eyes closed as if she had simply gone to sleep, with a red rose upon her breast and puncture wounds on her throat. She was pale and colourless but still beautiful, even in death.

Velkan had to be restrained, so profound was his grief. He shouted and screamed and wept against Anna's shoulder while their father kneeled down to cover his wife's corpse in a dark shroud. Velkan knew that this had been done on purpose, that Dracula had taken his mother from him as retaliation, and it filled him with both fury and unimaginable guilt to know that this had happened by no one's fault but his own.

He could not look Boris in the eye as he walked past with Isabel in his arms, nor could he summon words to speak in her honour at the following funeral. He lingered outside the church, dressed in clothes as black as his mood, and swore that Dracula would suffer greatly for what he had done.

Afterwards, Velkan tried to ignore the ache in his heart at losing his mother and focused upon his duties as both a prince and a warrior. Anna did similarly, and was able to cope with the loss more easily in that she did not carry the burden of another's death upon her shoulders. Still, she did her best to offer solace to her brother, though sometimes she was forced to resign her efforts lest she exhaust herself.

Velkan was ever depressed and moody, yet he drew comfort from the thought that one day he would face off with his Dark Saint and defeat him. This hope lent him the will and energy to fight, to endure, and soon that was all he remembered how to do. He forgot how to smile and to laugh, how to love and how to be merciful. Hatred and vengeance both ruled his life and destroyed it, and each day he would be forced to rise from the ashes like a phoenix to take flight once more, whether he wanted to or not. It was a wretched existence, and he loathed it with every fibre of his being.

"What magnificent lives we lead, you and I," he said to Anna one night after they had surprised a werewolf while on patrol and were forced to slaughter it with their silver daggers. He wiped the beast's hot blood from his eyes and watched it slowly turn into the man it once had been. "I pity the tedious things other people of our ages must go through: courtships, marriages, worrying about the weather. How dull their lives must be. How utterly unbearable…"

Anna had to catch Velkan as he fell to his knees on the bloody grass and sobbed. She said nothing, as she usually did, but held him until he had purged the anguish from his body in the form of bitter tears. Then she helped him home again, and slept by his side the same as they used to do when they were once young and happy.

† † †

Matters were similarly unwell in the dark, snowy realm of Dracula's abode. Though the brides did what they could to comfort their master, he remained despondent and quick to anger. Hours he would pass sitting alone at the long marble table in his hall, wearing a baneful expression, staring across the way as if his eyes were looking at something within his own mind. Occasionally his temper ignited for no reason at all, and he went through his palace prison destroying everything within reach, shouting curses to God, the world, the Valerious family, and creating an awful row until his rage had at last been sated.

Verona, Marishka and Aleera feared the Count's wrath and allowed him room to vent his frustration, accepting for once that even they were unable to ease his ire. They knew that their master was deeply wounded by their son's treachery, and sought to punish the mortals who were undoubtedly the cause of him deviating from his chosen path. Dracula condoned and even encouraged these attacks, but warned his women against harming so much as a hair on Velkan's head.

"He may hate us now," he muttered coldly, "but soon he will love us again. We shall show him the weakness of his kind, even if we must kill every human being in Vaseria. And once we have destroyed his entire family, solitude will deliver him into our arms. Go, my lovelies. Teach him the meaning of loneliness—I want him to feel the same pain which he has given me."

The brides obeyed as best they could, but in secret they harboured jealousy towards the prince for stealing Dracula's affection from them. It was cause for ever-increasing anxiety, and prompted them to question the security of their own futures if the Count could not have his son.

"Vlad cared for us less when we were human," Marishka once mewed pathetically. "But now he cares for Velkan with greater ardour, and he is still a mere mortal!"

"Shut up," Aleera hissed to her. "We do not need you to remind us of our master's disinterest in us—we can see it clearly enough."

"He has not lain with us since the Argument," Verona added mournfully. "Perhaps he has given up on our children, and consequently us as well. What use are we to him now, when we cannot even bear him the children he desires? We are but his toys, useless for all things save his own pleasure, and he may already have tired of us."

"The gypsy brat is not one of his brides!" Aleera snapped ferociously. "He cannot please our master as we can!"

"How little you know of the world," Marishka muttered.

"I know of the world well enough to understand that I am not going to allow a Valerious to replace my position in my lord's heart—or his bed."

"That is not for you to decide, Aleera," said Verona. "The duty of a wife is firstly to obey her husband, and if he tells you to stand down, you will do it."

Indignant tears burned in the red-haired woman's eyes as she retired her argument with grievous acknowledgement. "I would throw myself on God's mercy before I see that day."

The vampiresses remained tortured by their own uncertainties but they did not leave the Count, for with him was their sole purpose, their reason for being. They had been selected as mortals by their strength, their beauty, and their cunning; they had been made by Dracula and would stay at his side until he sent them away, yet all three would rather die ere leave him, so great was their devotion. But as ageless and eternally beautiful as they were, without their husband they had nothing else to live for, and this they knew all too well.

† † †

Whenever the moon lapsed into its middle phase, the people of Vaseria lived in fear. The summer months were particularly dreaded, being that the foliage offered camouflage for the flourishing population of werewolves, as if the danger from vampires was not already enough for the town to bear. The Valerious family, however, looked upon the full moon as an opportunity to wreak vengeance upon the evil that had wronged them in so many ways.

Anna found her brother seated in the armoury one such evening, cleaning his revolver and inspecting his sterling ammunition with wordless tact. She approached slowly and watched Velkan work. No speech passed between them, but it was seldom that they had anything light of which to speak anyway.

"Tomorrow is my birthday," she said at length.

"I know." Velkan looked up from his gun to give her a meek smile. "Eighteen years is it, little sister? I suppose I ought to stop calling you 'little' now that you are going to be a woman."

"I will always be 'little sister' to you," she answered, walking over behind him to hug her arms about his neck, "just as you will always be my 'big brother'."

"And what does the princess wish for her birthday, I wonder? I don't think she should ask for an iron mace like last year."

Anna smiled. "No weapons this time, I promise. I have only one wish."

"Really?" Velkan inquired. "And what might that be?"

"To spend a day with my father and my brother, and speak nothing of duty or evil. I want us to be a family again, to enjoy life the way we should. It is what Mama would have wanted: to see us happy if only for one more time. It is what I want, too."

Velkan sighed heavily and reached up to place his hand upon Anna's. "It is folly for us to make ourselves believe that there is nothing wrong, little sister. To pretend is to dream, and while dreams may be sweet, it makes waking all the more difficult."

"Perhaps," she said, "but sometimes dreams are all we have to keep ourselves alive. We need a little folly to remind us of our better days."

The prince set down his revolver and turned halfway in his chair to kiss his sister's cheek. "I love you, Anna. No folly should keep you from forgetting that."

Tears came to the princess' eyes as she embraced her brother tightly. "Never," she swore. "I thank God for each day I spend with you, Velkan. If I had to give up all of my dreams and possessions, I would still be grateful to have you. On my life, I would."

Velkan swallowed the knot in his throat and closed his eyes, lost in the dark cascade of his sister's wavy hair as she bowed her head over him. "So would I, Anna," he whispered. "On my life."

† † †

The night was far from dark as the hunting party assembled in the deserted town square. Torches and lamps were unnecessary under the illuminating brightness of the full moon, and the huntsmen wore grim faces as they reigned their horses around their captain. Velkan looked mature and kingly for his twenty years, clad in his black riding cloak and carrying on his belt his father's sword and revolver. Anna and Boris flanked either side of him, and from atop his black steed he addressed the party in a strong, regal voice:

"Gentlemen, you are already aware of what we are up against: the two werewolves from the north woods were spotted on the move, heading south-east along the river towards Vaseria. Flavius, you and my father are to take six men and set up a patrol along the banks north of the bridge; allow two of your scouts to keep watch on the west bank, should the beasts see you and attempt to evade.

"Adolfo, your team shall accompany Anna and I to the east woods—with luck the rogue werewolf who killed Tristan last week will be returning to finish the job; its leg was wounded so it cannot have travelled far, and its lust for blood would keep it close to town. Cezar, I know that Tristan was your brother, so look upon this night as an opportunity to exact justice upon the evil that took his life."

The man nodded firmly and said, "I plan on it, your highness."

Velkan returned the gesture, and looked at each of the hunters with pride and determination on his face. "I carry no doubt in my mind of your extraordinary abilities—you are the best of the best, some of the finest hunters and trappers in Transylvania, and it is my honour to serve as your captain and comrade. Let us pray that fortune will smile upon us this night and in the coming years. God be with you."

With a sharp whistle, the group split accordingly and set out into the darkness. Anna drew her horse alongside Velkan's as they rode towards the foreboding forest, which loomed ahead with silent menace and almost seemed to smile as they entered the winding trail that led into its belly. She stole glances at her brother, who remained fearless and unaffected by his surroundings. Either he was the bravest man she had ever known, or he had become so accustomed to evil that it had made a home in his heart. Or perhaps it had been there all along. The thought made Anna sick with despair, but she forced herself to smile, intent on remaining strong.

"You command the men well, Velkan," she said. "They obey and respect you."

"They obey and respect me because they fear me," he answered quietly so that the others riding behind would not hear. "To them I am a thing that is half evil, the rebellious son of Dracula whose ambition is driven by vengeance instead of goodness. I have neither their trust nor their confidence; I lost it years ago."

"That is not true," Anna insisted stubbornly. "How can you claim to know what these men think of you?"

At this, Velkan turned his head to gaze at his sister with pain apparent in his blue eyes. "Because I can hear the panic in their heartbeats whenever I approach, as I can hear the echoes of their thoughts and see the terror in their eyes as they battle the wickedness that despises them, yet loves me." He turned to gaze emotionlessly at the black path spreading before them, a scene that would have shaken a normal man to his bones. "He still runs through my veins, Anna, and he will not leave me until I am his once more."

The princess was at once angry and grieved, and she uttered, "Then you must kill him, Velkan. Be rid of him, and his hold on you will die as well."

"I am not sure if I could do it," he said softly.

"What do you mean?" Anna demanded. "Dracula has taken all but your life, and now you tell me that you no longer have the desire to kill him? You cannot fail in this!"

"It is not my desire for justice that makes me hesitate, but the thought of succeeding." Velkan clarified hastily. "Suppose I do manage to defeat Dracula—what then of my life? How would I begin to take back the years that seeking revenge has stolen from me? I was born for only one purpose, as were you: to kill Count Vladislaus Dragulia. We are living weapons bred for no reason other than to hate and to fight and to die, and it is all that I have been taught. If the Count is destroyed and peace is restored to Vaseria, my purpose would be gone and I would have nothing for which to live. My existence is meaningless if he dies—he is my reason to be, Anna." He shook his head, on the verge of tears. "The object of my hatred is also the crucible of all that I love in this life. It is a cruel and merciless irony. That is why I cannot kill him, Anna. I would be taking my own life."

"That is not true, and you know it!" she objected vehemently. "Don't speak as if all is-"

"On the contrary," interrupted a sepulchral voice from far above their heads, "he is absolutely correct. You should listen to your brother more often, silly little princess; you would benefit from his knowledge."

"Dracula," Velkan growled softly, staring up at some unseen point in the tangled mesh of tree limbs and darkness. He drew his sword and held it ready, and though the huntsmen similarly sprang to arms, they could not see through the night—but Velkan could; he saw the Count standing casually upon a thin limb high in a tree, having witnessed the entire conversation from his lofty position.

"You speak truthfully, my son," he said with a smile, "and it warms my cold heart to hear such eloquent words from you."

"You are not my father anymore," Velkan spat.

"But I was, once upon a time," said Vlad with triumphant smugness. "And so I will be again."

"My prince, we cannot see him!" the men called. "It is too dark! His voice comes from all directions!"

"Weaklings," the vampire muttered in contempt, staring at the young man venomously. "You would call such pathetic creatures your family, and shun the eternal treasures I offer to you. What do you see in them, Velkan? Does your pity keep you from deserting them, I wonder? Or are you just as senseless as they?"

Anna had heard enough, and drew a crucifix-studded dagger from her belt. "If you cannot kill him, Velkan," she shouted to her brother, "then I will!" And with expert aim, she flung the blade towards the spot Velkan's eyes were fixed upon. Though the princess could not see the target hit its mark in Dracula's shoulder, she heard his snarl of pain well enough.

Fearful for her life, Velkan cried to his sister, "Anna, what have you done!"

"Kill her!" Dracula thundered, and from the trees burst a frothing, yellow-eyed werewolf, jaws opened wide and rows of dripping fangs bared. The creature struck Anna's horse and sent it rolling across the ground. The princess was barely quick enough to avoid being thrown from her saddle, and landed nimbly on her feet several paces away as the werewolf began to tear her steed to pieces; its screams were horrible, and the huntsmen opened fire upon the beast with arrows, bullets, and daggers.

"Anna!" shouted her brother, and she turned to see Velkan extending his hand towards her. "Get on, hurry!"

Anna started to reach for his hand, but a shadow swooping down from the trees behind him caused her to shriek, "Velkan, look out!" She lunged forward to grab his hand, but she was already too late; she could only watch in horror as Velkan was lifted, shouting and struggling, from his saddle and into the trees by the grotesque winged monster that was Dracula.

"Velkan! Velkan!" she screamed, horrified beyond rational thought to see her own brother taken from her. Chaos engulfed Anna for a single moment, and between the roaring of the werewolf as he lay into the huntsmen and the din of gunfire, she lost the ability to think of anything else save the agony of telling her father what had happened.

Just there came the sound of snapping branches from above, and Velkan's revolver landed on the ground not far from where she stood. Anna's mind was slammed into action once more, and she sprang for the gun.

"Velkan, thank God for you," she uttered, snapping open the cylinder to see six silver bullets already loaded into the chambers. Closing it once more and cocking the hammer, she turned around and threw herself straight into the werewolf's bloody rampage.

† † †

High above the shadowy treetops, Velkan kicked, yelled, and fought to free himself despite the prospect of falling—heights had ceased to frighten him years ago. The beating of two powerful, leathery wings churned the air and sent it rushing past him as the distant shouts of men and the patter of gunfire echoed across the forest. The talons that clutched the prince firmly by his upper arms were as strong as iron, yet the creature was mindful not to puncture the vulnerable flesh with its mighty claws.

Suddenly, Velkan stopped struggling as he heard distinct gunshots crack into the air from below: two, three, four. "Anna…" he whispered, recognising the familiar sound of his revolver. "Aim for the heart, Anna. You have only two more chances to-"

Another shot. And another.

She was now out of ammunition, and the only reload of silver bullets was carried on Velkan's belt.

Three seconds of silence followed, and the prince felt a cold block of ice begin to form in the pit of his stomach. Then a long, tortured howl drifted above the canopy, wavering unsteadily as it faded gradually into a human scream. And then, the forest was quiet once more.

"She did it! She killed it!" Velkan cried happily, forgetting himself and his present danger.

"Wretched brat," came the fiendish growl from above him. "She will die for robbing me of my servant."

"Only if you kill me first," the young gypsy said defiantly.

"For all the trouble you have caused me, I should," replied the creature. "But I cannot destroy you, my beautiful son, no more than you could destroy me."

Velkan had craftily slipped his silver dagger from the breast pocket of his vest and manoeuvred it into his hand. "Perhaps I can help you find a way, Father," he uttered, and thrust the blade into the monster's leg.

There was an ear-shattering bellow of rage and pain, and suddenly they were plummeting from the sky and into the trees. One talon released Velkan's arm, and the only thing keeping him from dropping to his death was the thrashing beast above him. They struggled in midair, descending at reckless speed towards the earth before finally crashing through the canopy. It was a roaring tangle of limbs and wings as Velkan fought to both protect and free himself from the creature's clutches, but soon the concern of surviving his fall overwhelmed his desire for liberation.

Branches thudded against his body and tore deep ruts into his skin, knocking the air from his lungs and bending his frame painfully hither and thither. His flesh seared as if on fire as he listened to his bones collide with tree trunks and crack at the joints, and he tasted blood in his mouth while being battered about the head by whatever foliage he ripped through.

It was the most painful fifteen seconds of Velkan's life, yet it seemed to go on for ages.

And then, thankfully, the branches ceased to tear at him and he fell freely through open space, welcoming the peace and silence. He knew in some black, barely-conscious part of his mind that he was about to die, yet he felt no fear at all, for after enduring such grueling physical assault, dying was a merciful notion.

But Velkan did not die—he collided with the ground and lived, and seconds later the hellish creature landed beside him, growling softly. The prince saw through the darkness and beheld the beast's wings, torn and bleeding and riddled with sharp branches; Dracula had obviously received the brunt of the damage, though before Velkan's astonished eyes the wounds began to close up and heal as the Count slowly returned to his human shape.

Vlad crawled to his hands and knees and grimaced, still feeling the horrible pain even though his wings had vanished. No matter—it would be gone in a few more moments, as would the punctures and lacerations that had nearly shredded him to ribbons. He wiped away the blood coursing down the side of his face and swept back his dishevelled hair before finally laying his eyes upon the wounded prince, who was cast upon his back not far from where the vampire had landed.

"You insufferable little whelp," he hissed, crawling forward to grab Velkan by the collar and lift him up until they were face to face. "You have brought me nothing but trouble and strife! I should leave you here to die and allow the crows to pick at your rotting corpse!"

Velkan, lost in a hazy delirium and covered from head to toe in his own blood, smiled at Dracula as he would a dear relative. "But you won't… will you, Father?"

Vlad gritted his teeth in wrath, but knew that the impudent young man was right. He knotted his fists in the fabric of Velkan's shirt and trembled as he strove to control himself. "I should have killed you the moment I first saw you, Valerious. It was foolish of me to believe that a worthless human child could ever amount to anything, especially an ignorant, obstinate son of a gypsy harlot such as you. How I hate you, Velkan; as I hate God and Heaven and the whole of miserable humanity. I hate you!"

The next thing he knew, Velkan was being embraced in the Count's arms, held tightly to the breast that bore no heartbeat. He felt his body begin to repair itself: bones knitting, skin healing, tissue mending, and he was both grateful and disheartened. Now he would live again because of this demon, this Dark Saint, and be further indebted to him—further owned by him. He struggled weakly to get away, but found that he had no strength remaining; most of it had bled out of him.

"Let me go," he rasped. "I would rather die than..."

"I cannot let you," Vlad whispered. "Be still."

"Release me," the prince repeated, though this time it sounded more like a plea. "Don't do this to me again."

"I must. I cannot allow you to escape into Purgatory so easily."

Tears flooded Velkan's eyes. "You bastard," he choked, and gave in, reaching up to wrap his arms about the Count's shoulders. "You've ruined me. You were the one who taught me the meaning of hatred, and I will never forgive you."

"You have ruined me as well, little prince," said Vlad in an oddly detached murmur, "for you were the one who taught me the meaning of love, and I will never forgive you."

For a while they sat in the silent tomb of the forest, holding on to one another while at the same time overwhelmed with the desire to destroy each other. They had become a paradox, half living and half dead, hot blood and cold flesh, restrained only by their love of hating one another. This was the essence of a father's helpless devotion to his son, despite however different their worlds, despite how badly they wanted to forget: some part of a parent would always and unconditionally love their child, no matter how far it strayed from the shadow of its sire.

"I may have failed to kill you, Count," said Velkan as he slowly drew away and stared into Vlad's hollow eyes, "but my sister will not. She will hunt you until the end of her days and not rest until she has found a way to destroy you."

"The only thing in this world that frightens me is you… my most reluctant son." And Dracula leaned forward to kiss the forehead that he had poured his blood upon more than two decades ago; a few moments later he pulled away and returned to Velkan his silver dagger, still stained with cold blood. "Do not die before me," he admonished, petting the prince's hair affectionately.

"I swear it," Velkan answered defiantly, grasping the blade to his chest.

Vlad smiled and stood to his feet. "That is good—I have plans for you, Velkan, important plans. Take care to avoid wrecking them." And then, with a rush of wind, he had vanished into the night.

† † †

Anna was the first one to spot her brother as he emerged from the black trees, clothes tattered and bloodied but his body amazingly uninjured. "Velkan!" she cried, handing her torch to Adolfo and running to his side. "What happened to you? Are you all right? How did you ever manage to escape?"

"I stabbed Dracula and he released me," he replied laconically. "Fortunately the trees broke my fall."

"You look a terrible mess," she muttered, checking him for bruises and cuts. "Are you certain you are not wounded?"

"I am fine, Anna," he insisted. "It was just a rare stroke of luck that he lost his grip—it was nothing that I could not manage. Did you kill the werewolf?"

"Yes," she said softly. "But I am afraid that Cezar was mortally wounded. We sent four of the men back with him to the town doctor, but it is unlikely that he will survive the night. Even so, he has been bitten. He is as good as dead no matter what happens."

Velkan bowed his head and rubbed his face tiredly for a few moments before looking up at the remaining huntsmen. "Then we shall return to the town and see what can be done to help him. Our mission is complete for tonight, and it is time to begin a new one."

To Be Continued...