Part 2- 'Something of the night…'

1813, Poland present day

Van Helsing pulled his hat lower over his head its wide rim casting a shadow over almost all his face, Carl did the same with his hood. Obscuring their features would always be a necessity, as long as the order maintained the rule that Van Helsing's work was to be done undercover and in the cloak of shadows, Van Helsing would be forced to carry the stigma of being the most wanted man in Europe.

And the most wanted man inevitably had the biggest reward against his name.

They walked quickly and quietly through the village their horses being trailed alongside them; fortunately the place they were looking for was on the outskirts of the village. Hopefully they would pass through unnoticed.

It was a pretty little place set in the small valley just outside the Polish forests of Bialoweiza; where the line of trees ended along the ridge of a steep hill and ran down to meet a rapid flowing river. Though small, Pzarszina had become an important route for travellers wishing to cut down on the time it would take to ascend the opposite hill and into the next major town of Czorsa.

The shortcut had worked to the villagers' advantage, weary travellers after having made through the dark and often dangerous woods of Bialoweiza needed to be fed, needed warm beds, clean clothes and pleasant company. Pzarszina would provide all of that, and being in such a convenient location and having such necessary amenities allowed the somewhat unscrupulous villagers to demand whichever extortionate prices they wished.

Pzarszina was thriving, or at least it had been.

The order had not sent Van Helsing to the picturesque village for sightseeing, the village had been seemingly been cursed, their loved ones were going missing. Their dead loved ones.

As the night passed, the morning would bring with it the spectre of another empty grave, another opened casket and a missing body. The residents had attributed the gruesome phenomenon at first to nothing more than grave robbers stealing away the corpses but it soon became clear that it was something infinitely worse.

Having appointed the strongest man of the village as a deterrent he was eventually discovered face down in the mud the next morning, barely alive and mumbling something about walking corpses and skeletons.

1615 Western Siberia

The new Countess Romanovsky it was generally stated had something of the night about her, or such were the words of those who were polite, for the rest stated in no less hushed tones that what she had about her was something akin to the devil.

The manner in which the Count had remarried so soon after the death of his first wife perhaps added to the idea that she had wrought some sort of spell. Not a soul had heard of Anastasia, the pale skinned, raven haired beauty with the blood red lips that had so soon become the new Countess.

But they soon did, she had made a deal with the devil, or as good as, she had made a deal with Count Vladislaus Dracula. Not one of the Romanovsky household or the village for which they were patrons was spared the onslaught. Those who were strong were turned, and for the next few days Dracula and his new coven fed unabated on those too weak to be useful.

Anastasia Romanovsky's deal involved her unborn child, conceived with the her husband but offered to Dracula, when he finally turned her, it was with the child still in her stomach, in essence the as of yet unborn had become an extension of the undead. Dracula and Anastasia had finally succeeded in creating their hybrid. A creature merged, an unholy alliance of the two, enough of a human still, but with the characteristics of a vampire, all of their strengths and none of their weaknesses.

Free from an aversion to sunlight, not able to be hurt by silver and with an insatiable thirst to feed. Dracula could not have been more proud of the child than if he had sired her himself. And so it was that Ilyana Romanovsky made her way into the world, blessed and cursed in equal measure.

Vladov Kinsky made his way silently across the stone floor, listening carefully for sounds from the adjoining bed chamber. He approached the cot in the centre of the room and stood stock still, not daring to breathe.

It had been difficult enough dispatching of the guard at the door, he was never entirely sure the crude sleeping spell he had only lately mastered would be enough to render the thing unconscious, and true enough it had served instead to make the vampire only slightly groggy and very angry. But it was enough for him and his lithe fifteen year old hands were found to be just a little too quick for the undead guard, and Vladov had taken his chance and plunged the stake deep into the things heart.

And now he was here standing in front of the cot of six month old Ilyana Romanovsky, he pushed the heavy black draping aside and peered in. He had not known what he would see, but he had not expected this…, an entirely normal, beautiful child. She had a mass of dark curls, plump ruby lips and her eyes, her beautiful wide round eyes, Vladov could have sworn they were violet.

Little Ilyana was awake and as wonderfully playful. She cooed at him and gurgled loudly, reaching up with both her fat little hands for something to take hold of. She laughed and Vladov panicked, looking to the door, he hastily placed a finger over her mouth to shush her thinking that a baby would understand such a desperate call for silence.

But Ilyana did quieten down to Vladov's immense relief, until he realised just why the baby had gotten so peaceful. She was suckling his finger, not unusual in itself, that is until Vladov saw that the finger she was so focused on was bleeding! He had gotten a splinter and a cut from the wooden stake, and now she was drinking from him, drinking his blood!

He pulled away in abject horror, but the baby began to mew loudly and Vladov was forced to replace the finger between her ready lips. He raised the stake in his other hand and held it over Ilyana's infant form, believing himself wholly ready to do what was required.

But he could not, watching her lull gently back into a content sleep, he found he could not, and replacing the stake in its clasp around his belt, he gathered the coverlets around her, took down the hanging for extra warmth and bundling the now sleeping babe in his arms he hurried out of the room and to the steep steps out of the castle.

He was panting hard, the beast was only a few hundred feet behind him and gaining fast, he could almost smell its fetid breath as it hunted him down. Dracula's wolfman was hard on his tail and Vladov was fast running out of strength, it had been a vain hope to think he could escape the castle undetected; his scent was caught up as soon as he had stepped out into the cold night air. And the chase had begun.

He was running almost blind, Siberia's near permanent winter was in full force and the blizzard threw blasts of icy wind and chilling snow in his face. He held Ilyana tightly against his chest as he arrived at the end of the bridge. The stone structure was set at an impossibly dizzying height from the ground, the only means of connecting the castle to the ridge opposite. The Romanovsky castle had been impressively built centuries ago, solely with the intention of keeping invaders at bay it had been set as an island almost in the middle of a lake with the large stone bridge being the only means of leaving or entering the fortress.

It was here that Vladov was forced to come to complete halt as with a sudden leap over his head the wolf man landed in front of him, baring fangs and growling menacingly. The thing crouched low, and circling him slowly was ready to pounce. Vladov instinctively moved back until he was in the middle of the bridge again.

'No, not yet…' A voice as cold as the night air called out and instantly the wolf man came to heel, Dracula stepped out of the shadows and petted the thing affectionately over the head.

Vladov stared at the Count intently his young heart ready to burst with fear, its rapid and erratic beating caught Dracula's ears and he smiled. Moving forward he circled Vladov as menacingly as the wolf man had.

'Don't I know you boy…?' Dracula asked suddenly, recognition causing him to smile yet further. Vladov barely found enough courage to shake his head.

But Vladilaus was insistent, 'Yes I do, you belong to Volyev don't you…?' He laughed outright now, 'well, well it seems the apprentice is usurping the master, I'm sure Volyev will be intrigued…' Then as quickly as all that Dracula transformed himself into his full terrifying spectacle, towering over Vladov with his wings outstretched and his fury clear.

'Give me the child…!' He roared and Vladov was sure he had never heard or would ever hear again anything so terrifying.

But instead of complying Vladov did the only he knew he could and turning he ran towards the edge of the bridge and flung himself over with Ilyana still in his arms…rushing headfirst into the frozen lake

Van Helsing crouched next to the empty grave and studied the soil closely. The area had been clawed at; the hole had been climbed out of. He looked up at Carl who was stood to one side making a silent prayer. He looked towards the horses, they were far back from the cemetery having refused to come any further but still even at a distance they were visibly nervous. Whinnying and shaking their manes restlessly, Van Helsing had come to trust the instincts of animals when it came to sensing evil almost as much as he did his own.

Turning back to the grave he picked something out of the soil and held it up for Carl to see, the poor friar turned a shade almost as putrid green as the object Van Helsing held up, it was a deformed rotten finger, one that had once no doubt been attached to a dead body.

'These poor souls they're alive when they climb out of their graves…' he asked in a trembling voice.

'No…' Van Helsing replied, 'not really alive, some sort of suspended animation but not truly alive.' He looked around at the half-dozen empty graves.

'But, something is bringing these wretches back isn't it Gabriel?' Van Helsing tossed the finger back into the hole. He looked towards Carl sternly.

'Not something Carl, someone…Necromancers…'