Hey there, my fellow writers and readers. :) Well, here's the fourth chapter in my epic Yami-as-a-Vampire-Count saga. Hope you guys like this!

Simon was in shock, and unable to believe any of this was happening. He looked at Abraham Van Helsing. "What the hell happened in there?"

"I told you to kill her! They can be killed by silver, by sunlight or by stakes. You must pierce their heart or behead them. They are Nosferatu — vampires."

"And you knew about this? And you're all right with this?" Simon couldn't believe all of the stuff that spilled out of Abraham's mouth.

"I had them destroyed, eradicated. All but one — my secret in the abbey. He is what they stole."

"Who?" Simon asked, wanting to know what those thieves took. What was it?

Abraham sighed. "Dracula. Dracula — not myth, not the ravings of a mad Irish novelist. Oh, no — he is real, I assure you."

Dracula looked at the mirror. He knew that Abraham Van Helsing had been fooled by his own reflection, and he smirked at the thought.

He felt like laughing, but for some reason, he felt that now was not the time to do so.

Then... it happened.

"Judas Iscariot." The voice was biting... and so familiar, too.

Dracula whirled around, wondering who it was that knew his real name so well. Whoever it was, it was pretty good with knowledge and it was good at guessing games...

His eyes widened. Wait a minute. There was only one person who was like that...

There he stood…Yami!

Yami stood there, smirking. Dracula remembered him so well. The tri-colored, spiky hair in red, yellow and black. The eyes that seemed to seek out a person's soul. And — now came the best part — the aura of being irresistible that seemed to follow Yami wherever he went.

He then stammered, "You... you can't have her. Ever!"

Yami replied, "The years have not been kind to you, Judas." He shrugged. "But then why should they be? You stole them from me."

"I-I spared a century," Dracula replied.

Yami narrowed his eyes. "Spared? From me? I've seen your century. You've all become so gifted at butchery. I feel like a novice."

Dracula finally growled, "You want revenge? Take it! Right here, right now!"

Yami was still calm, and the dark smirk still adorned his face. "You know not the depths of my vengeance, Judas."

"If you harm my soon-to-be bride, I swear to the..."

But that was all Dracula was able to say before Yami went into action. Dracula was soon pressed up against the wall. Yami held him by the shoulders. Dracula had to admit, Yami's grip — whether it was physical, mental or a grip on a woman — was tighter than his.

Yami then purred, "Shh. He doesn't care and in that you can trust..."

Dracula could do nothing except stare into Yami's hypnotic eyes which now glowed crimson red. He knew that for sure that, if Yami were to ask Arella to be his bride for all time, her answer would be a 'yes' — very much so.

No mortal woman could withstand the power over Yami's amazingly good looks and charm. That was why so many of them had fallen victim to his game. Women were easily seduced — especially the mortal women of the present era. They trusted anyone, it seemed.

"No," whispered Dracula. "You're irresistible!"

Yami nodded. "That's true." Then he narrowed his eyes again.

"You fed on me like a parasite," Yami continued. "You stole life from my blood and passed it to another... Abraham Van Helsing, that is. And he passed it on to... her." He laughed. The laugh was not very comforting to Dracula. It was so many things. It was dark. It was seductive. It was... evil. "She's my Arella now."

Dracula struggled in Yami's iron grip. But his struggles were in vain. Yami was strong — he was stronger than any other vampire Dracula had met, of course. "No! Never! Never! She will end you!" he hissed.

Yami was now smirking... again. That smirk always irritated Dracula. He knew it wasn't a good sign. He didn't know how he knew; he just knew.

I'd better warn Arella. She could be in danger, he thought desperately. However, Yami's powers of mind-reading had grown strong over the years. He knew exactly what a mortal was thinking. Sometimes he would voice the thought before they even had a chance to tell him. And they were normally surprised.

Whenever he encountered a mortal he knew was "evil," he simply looked into their eyes and convince them to follow him to a dark alleyway, which they did. Then he would exercise his powers of mind control over them. His eyes would glow red. His voice would become deep and seductive. Finally, to finish it all off, he would give them a command that they normally would never do if they had been thinking clearly.

And they would have no choice but to do what he commanded them to do.

Then he would suck the mortal's blood and drain him or her dry.

Yami disliked the people he considered to be evil. From his perspective, they were the ones that deserved to die from the bite of a vampire. He would make sure of that. He would constantly tell himself that the people he considered to be innocent — such as children, teenagers and hard workers — deserved to live long, healthy lives. He believed that, and he would make sure that no evil mortal would dare to cross his path... ever again.

He had loved this country they called America, and still did even now. It was a fascinating country, and he had seen what they could do when they defended themselves from who they called their enemies.

He had read about America though he had never left Egypt. It was a good country in the year 2000, he read — logical and modest and chaste. Reading that, Yami had laughed out loud, the hollow sound echoing over the stone walls of his castle. To him, it was a nation full of repressed humans, probably.

Men were buttoned into suits, and women were struggling to fit into tight clothes — something the men never had trouble with. It was, in his mind, a nation just waiting to be corrupted by his heathenism. The bed sheets were waiting to be stained with blood. The men and women would gasp at his touch; they were so starved for such things in their restricted lives.

He loved them, in his fashion. He loved twisting their pretty, fragile wills to his, loved them whether they struggled or writhed, screamed or moaned. Overt, excessive, garish violence was not his style — his was to grasp a wrist a little too tightly, perhaps leave bruises that would go nicely with a pale blue dress, but not the sort that one would notice until afterwards.

He loved surrounding a woman with mist both within and without, making it so that she couldn't tell whether she hated or loved him. The confusion and the ambiguity were the most delightful parts of it all.

Dracula pulled himself out of his musings and turned to Yami.

"She will love me and... she will be my bride for all eternity," purred Yami.

Then, with that, he picked up Dracula before baring his throat. Finally, with his seductive kiss of death, Yami opened his mouth and sank his fangs into Dracula's neck, draining him of his blood.

Yami's POV

After Dracula was drained, I then sensed his powerful blood flowing through me. Finally I had meted out my punishment on him for almost taking my Arella from me. Arella now belonged with only me.

I let him drop. He lay there, finally dead... forever!

Before I left, I turned back to him one last time. I pulled my lips back in a deadly hiss. My sharp fangs, now stained with the crimson life force, gleamed, as they were deadly weapons.

"Try and stop me, Judas," I growled. "Try and get her back now."

Then, with that I left. Now that I had taken care of my problem, I knew there was only one thing left to do.

Make Arella my bride.

A sinful smile slowly spread itself across my face, as my eyes grew dark.

Sweet, innocent, naive, pure, beautiful little Arella, you are brave and wise beyond your years, and I can't wait to take you to my bed.

The only sounds that could be heard now were the soft wind outside and the low dark laughter that was rising in my throat.

Well, what do you think? Nice feedback is very much appreciated, of course. :)