He hadn't even recovered his breath before he was scrambling out the door in the pitch blackness of that now-threatening basement. Blind, he was entirely lost, and within a minute of his blind scrambling, he realized he'd trapped himself in the dead end of a corridor. And the monster was with him. Horrified, only vaguely aware that his pants were wet, intensely aware that his father was far away, he could do nothing but wait for the monster to eat him.
His father had kept something much worse than a lion in the basement. And he'd opened the door and let it out.
So Van Helsing had a son. Dracula, whom Van Helsing insisted on calling Alucard, turned the present situation over in his mind, finding it deeply amusing and satisfying. Abraham had humiliated him with the capture, kept him locked away, starved, declared that he now had a Master in the form of that human, told him that was all that a monster like him could expect. He'd made careful note of each insult and degradation, and now intended to reap his revenge in full.
Simply killing the foolish boy would be much too quick. Besides, he wasn't prone to hunting children. There was no sport in them, they were the prey of weak-minded Draculinas and failed fledglings. No self-respecting Draculina or vampire would eat them. And they made such marvelous bait.
Still, he was very, very hungry and the taste of the boy thrilled his tongue, tempting him with the memory of just how soft and succulent that neck had been. A mistake, yes, to have done so; he'd only done it to humiliate and terrify the child and to clarify its position with him, but now he had to deal with the raging hunger the action had wakened. And he was very hungry, and very weak.
Planning on how to use this situation to his greatest advantage, how to toy with Van Helsing and unsettle the man, yes, he'd use that to distract himself from the lovely snack crying in front of him. The child was brave enough, but a child, with none of a man's foolishness about false bravery in the face of death. Intelligent enough to realize what its fate was likely to be, the child was pale and shaking with terror, and working itself back up to screaming yet again.
"Silence, or you'll be my meal far sooner than you'd like." Musing on the possibilities, Dracula settled himself comfortably onto the ground by the boy, back against the wall and legs stretched out in front, shoulder leaning against the side wall of the corridor. It took no energy to sit like this, only to hold his head up...and in the dark, with no one to see, why bother? He'd conserve what energy he could for now, or he WOULD be reduced to biting this child, and then the game would be over. His head sagged forward, relaxed, chin resting on his chest.
And he'd been so bored. He quite looked forward to this game. Pulling the child against his other shoulder, a hand around its arm keeping it still, he debated pulling "Sam" into his lap. Abraham would be livid to discover the child curled up there, neck so close to his fangs...but the odor of urine told him it would be an unpleasant experience, indeed. Close beside him, both of them waiting at the end of the narrow passage...Abraham would be upset sufficiently already.
"We'll be waiting for your father." He kept his voice calm, but couldn't stop the wild grin that stretched his cheeks. Bored so long in that little room, locked in the coffin so long before that...oh, he would enjoy this game, indeed. And as long as Abraham returned soon, he'd find his son unmarked.
For now.