Chapter 4: The Hunters
It didn't take long for Vlad and Afina to catch up with Raphael. He had taken off into the forest in the vain hope of losing them. Between the stables and the forest, the hunter had managed to pull the stake from his shoulder, but he couldn't seem to apply enough pressure to the wound in order to stop to the bleeding and maneuver the horse effectively at the same time. Afina and the Count were high in the sky, careful to stay right on top of Raphael until they reached a clearing big enough to enter.
The odds were against the hunter no matter how hard he rode the horse. If the sun had been a threat to the vampires, the daylight would have been on his side. If the silver-tipped arrows he managed to shoot with his gas-propelled crossbow even managed to hit one of them in the heart, then maybe he could stand a chance of killing them, or at least slowing them down – even with his expert marksmanship. The winged beasts flew hard and fast, dipping down into the trees occasionally in an effort to get a clear shot at him before flying up into the sky again when the space became limited. Afina appeared to be just as indestructible as the Count. Every hit she took only fueled her anger. As a human, she would have strived to have better control over her temper, but with dozens of images and memories swimming in her head and the sting of Raphael's arrows burying deep into her flesh, she lost herself to her fury. If anything, she relished in it, allowed it to fuel her deep sense of concentration, channeling her rage as she closed in on the hunter.
The scent of his blood enveloped her senses and she could feel her fangs lengthening in her mouth, even before she dived down once more to see if she could at least knock him off his horse. Her attempt was met with the three-claw knuckle dagger slicing into her face, sending her off course and smashing into a tree. She felt her spine snap at the impact and she groaned, momentarily paralyzed as her body quickly tried to heal itself. She could feel the ligaments pulling the shattered bones back into place and the skin on her cheek miraculously patching itself, the blood retreating back beneath the surface just before the wound closed completely.
The Count landed beside her just as she finished healing and he offered her a hand, pulling her to her feet.
"What's the third rule of the hunt?" he asked her.
"What the hell does it matter?" she shot hostilely. "He's getting away." She moved to take off after the hunter, but he grabbed her by the arm, holding her in place.
"We are not affected by the sun, and he's bleeding. He'll be easy to track, which means we have the upper hand and can use his blood loss to our advantage. Now, answer the question. What is the third rule of…"
"Exploit your enemy's weaknesses," she growled, wiping the excess blood from her face.
"And the four…"
"If possible, always use the element of surprise," she interrupted. "There. Are you happy?"
The look he gave her put her in her place instantly.
"Would you get control for two seconds and think?!" he nearly shouted. "Don't prove to me that all women are reactionary creatures controlled by their emotions, Afina. You're smarter than that. Use your mind. Take in your surroundings."
Although frustrated that he had to pick now of all moments for a lesson, she relented, inhaling deep in an effort to get control over her anger. She masterfully pushed all thought to the back of her head and just listened. She could hear Raphael riding farther away. He was heading southwest, towards the river. His horse was old – Raphael's mistake – and though it was riding fast, she could tell by the beating of its heart that it was growing tired quickly. Raphael, on the other hand, as growing weary from the loss of blood; she could hear it in his breathing, in the beating of his heart. A cool breeze from the mountains brushed again her face and she listened to the way it moved through the trees, noting a gap in noise in the direction Raphael was heading. It gave her an idea.
"Do you know what to do?" Dracula asked her. She nodded once and was about to take off, before he grabbed her arm once again, stopping her. "Don't get overconfident. You may be immortal, but you're not completely invincible." She was silent, but nodded once again before taking off into the air. He followed after her just moments later, lagging behind, watching his pupil as she prepared to prove herself to the master.
Afina flew close the trees as silently as she could, predicting the hunter's path and flying ahead a few yards before landing, taking cover in a tree. At exactly the right moment, and not a moment sooner, she jumped to the ground, just a few feet from the hunter, the sudden action spooking the horse so bad that it jumped up on its hind legs in an effort to stop, effectively knocking Raphael to the ground. The horse took off immediately, heading back toward the village, leaving Afina and the hunter alone.
She watched with half-hearted amusement as the proud hunter pushed himself to his feet. His breathing was labored, as though he were struggling for oxygen. She listened keenly to his heartbeat as he pulled out a blade, ready to defend himself. His heartbeats were irregular and his breathing sharp on the intake, as though he had fractured a rib or two. Although he was arguably twice her size, he was slightly hung-over from his escapade in the tavern just hours ago, the alcohol still fresh on his breath.
And although her animal instinct craved his blood and revenge for her deceased husband – something inside of her didn't want to kill him, not really.
"I didn't want to kill Henric, Afina. You have to believe me," he pleaded, still holding the knife toward her. "It was Isabella. She was mad – when she found out who you really were, that Henric didn't care for her, that he was willing to give up what they had to be with you, she lost her mind, made pacts with vampires. If I refused to help her, she would have had me killed, too."
"Give up what they had?" she asked him, confused by his words. She struggled to remember – she remembered Isabella. That was the woman who had attacked the Count in the stables. But what did she have to do with Henric?
"You didn't know?" Raphael asked, bewildered. "But I could have sworn… that's why she left. After she saw you with…" He suddenly noticed Count Dracula a short distance away, watching them closely. "No," he breathed in terror. "No, it can't be. Afina, you can't trust him. He's a demon!"
Afina felt torn. She was at war with two halves that wanted completely different things – one wanted nothing more than to slaughter this murder. He may have tried to kill Henric against his will, but he was a brute. Even she knew that. She suddenly recalled an instance when she had watched him terrorize a camp of gypsies when they had first arrived in Transylvania in search of Count Dracula's whereabouts. He had made a move to hit her on several occasions when she crossed him. But despite her animalistic desire to shed his blood, his warning about Dracula unsettled her. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to get control over her conscience, to bury the memories that were distracting her.
Raphael took her moment of struggle as a chance to strike and he charged, read to bury the dagger into her collar, but she caught his hand in mid-air before the blade could even touch her skin and her eyes snapped open, the blue now black as pitch. His hostility had made her decision simple.
Kill or be killed.
He was a threat, and threats had to be eliminated.
Afina's grip on his wrist was so powerful, the hunter grimaced from the pain as she squeezed. When he refused to drop the blade, with a quick flick of her wrist, she had snapped his hand back. The sound of the bones breaking rang in her ears as his shout of pain echoed through the forest. With another movement of her wrist there was another pop – the sound of his arm breaking. This time the hunter screamed.
The sound elated her. She felt dark, powerful, in control – and she loved it.
Not wasting another moment, she drove straight for his neck and buried her fangs deep into the artery, tearing it with her teeth. The blood splattered all over her face as she drank greedily, devouring mouthfuls of a time, trying to capture the spray in her mouth. She could taste the alcohol in his blood and it sent a warmth all the way down to her toes.
Raphael managed to shove her away with his only other functional hand, quick to drive his three-clawed knuckle blades into her arm. She unleashed a hellish growl, but quickly recovered, smacking the blades off his hand and sending them flying into a tree nearby. She moved with a speed and precision that the hunter was no match for, disappearing and reappearing again in front of him, behind him, clawing at his flesh and then retreating before he could get a hit in.
The Count watched with fascination from a distance as she attacked, as she toyed with her prey like a cat with a mouse, bloodying up the hunter, even allowing him to cut her up a bit, simply because she enjoyed the sting. She felt invincible with the sun on her back and her enemy's blood on her tongue. But the game soon became old and she went in for the kill. In one powerful blow, Afina slammed her fist through Raphael's chest, just below the heart. His ribs shattered, puncturing his lungs and he began to choke on his own blood, watching in horror as this woman, with her hand inside his chest, grabbed hold of his still beating heart.
"You killed Henric," she hissed, eyes ablaze, fangs dripping with venom. "Isabella didn't have to tell you to. You wanted to."
"Perhaps, but I wasn't successful," he corrected between coughs. "Vampires got to him before I could finish him off."
It quickly got to the point where all Raphael could do was cough and sputter blood. Fueled by rage and the heat of the carnage, Afina clenched her fist around his heart and with a strong tug, pulled the organ from his chest. An intense pleasure, as though she were aroused, consumed her, taking her completely by surprise. Her conscience made one last attempt to reclaim her, but the monster devoured her senses. Raphael's knees immediately gave way beneath him and she caught his body before it could collapse on the ground. She fell to her knees with him in her arms as she brought his gaping wound to her mouth, drinking what was left of his lifeblood. The morning dew of the tall grass was soon replaced with the blood of the hunter.
When she was through, Afina lifted her head, gasping for breath as her sanity slowly returned. She waited for the guilt to set in, but it never did. The pleasure of a successful hunt was still coursing through her veins and the light of the sun felt glorious on her face. As the elation passed and a delightful calm began to wash over her, the Count appeared beside her.
He said nothing at first, only watched her. The way he looked at her sent another wave of warmth through her. The sense of awed pride in his eyes made her feel supreme.
"I thought you said you wanted me to teach you how to feed without killing?"
"I changed my mind," was her answer.
"And can you live with that?"
She thought about it for a moment before nodding.
"I've set him free. God can deal with him now."
The Count's smile was almost malicious and he offered her his hand. She took it, allowing him to pull her up to her feet with ease. He handed her a handkerchief with a sudden mild disinterest before crouching down beside the body, rummaging through the corpse's pockets.
"Would it be accurate to say that you enjoyed that?" he asked casually, removing the small pouch of gold pieces and pocketing them before revealing a small handful of letters with the Vatican seal.
"A bit too much, I think," she confessed, wiping the remaining blood from her hands, neck, and face. "But not in the revenge kind of way that I had initially assumed."
"You mean you enjoyed it in an erotic way," he stated. She was almost ashamed to admit it, but she nodded shyly.
"What the hell is the matter with me?" she laughed awkwardly.
"Nothing, actually. That's completely normal for a vampire." He stood and handed her a ring – a wedding band she recognized as her own. Apparently Raphael had stolen it. "It's been said that the vampires with noble blood gain a kind of erotic pleasure from the hunt, rather than the usual method of coupling. One of the highest forms of affection for vampires is when two completely lose themselves in the hunt and with one another – to where their minds, their movements, and their souls are completely entwined. The only thing greater than that is the sharing of blood."
"You mean they feed off of the same person?"
"Off of each other."
Her skin crawled in delight at the thought.
"So what do you mean by noble blood? " she inquired. He motioned for her to walk beside him, heading back toward the village where the vampire hunter's companion still resided, as he explained.
"Contrary to popular belief, I was not the first vampire the earth had ever seen. The most notorious, perhaps, but not the first."
"You mentioned bloodlines earlier. Were you the first of your bloodline?"
"Yes. When I died, my bloodline passed with me, killing every vampire I had ever sired, along with their fledglings, and so on and so forth."
"I'm not sure I entirely understand."
"Before I became a vampire, there were three other bloodlines. The oldest of the bloodlines cannot be killed by stake or sunlight or the bite of a werewolf. They are truly immortal. But they are also incredibly difficult to sire in their truest form. A vampire truly immune to all means of death must be born. Because of the circumstances of my creation, I inherited the first two traits when I was turned over four-hundred years ago."
"You mean, a member of the oldest bloodline turned you? But I thought it was the devil?"
"Not exactly. Before Van Helsing murdered me, I had made a blood oath with dark forces. That much is true. It ensured that if I died, I could be brought back. But before I was killed, I had also consumed the blood of an ancient vampire, which assured that when I came back, I would become immortal. In order to turn a human into a vampire, the mortal must have consumed a vampire's blood within at least three days before their death."
"What about me? I didn't drink any vampire's blood."
"That you can recall."
"True. But how does that explain my ability to walk in the sun, or my immunity to the stake?"
"You are one of the few direct descendants of that original line."
"But vampires can't procreate. Their progeny are born dead."
More memories started flowing back to her consciousness as they spoke. She could recall studying vampirism in her mother's house by the sea.
"True. But if the conditions are right, if a vampire copulates with a human, a half-breed, or damphir, can be born."
This, too, was familiar to Afina. She could have sworn they had had this discussion before as well. In fact, she was sure of it. She could see the two of them in her mind's eye, seated in a gently lit study before a roaring fire in the still of the night – just the two of them.
"My father," she recalled in hushed tones. "He was…"
"A vampire. One of the oldest vampires, and one of the greatest men I have ever known."
"Known?"
"He was destroyed by the Order, when you were just a child. We're still not quite sure how they did it. Your mother was devastated. Although she was married to the man that raised you by that point, she could not conceal her grief."
"I remember… she cried for weeks. Ever y time she looked at me, she cried."
"It was because you looked so much like Alrik, with your dark curly hair and your blue eyes."
"I remember you visiting," she said, everything becoming so much clearer the more they spoke. "Your presence was a great comfort to her."
"Your mother was an excellent woman. I was saddened when I heard of her passing a few years ago. How old were you?"
"Twenty-four. You know, I remember you had a wife back then when I was a child – a really beautiful woman with curly blonde hair."
"Marishka," he said with a reminiscent sigh. "One of my loveliest brides."
"One of them?"
"In an effort to connect the original three bloodlines with my own, I took a bride from each line. Verona was from your father's line. A very loyal woman. Fiercely loyal. Marishka and Aleera's lines were dwindling rapidly with the influx of vampire hunting in the more populated areas of Europe, Asia, and what is now America. I had hoped to restore their lines with our progeny, but…"
"Van Helsing." The name seemed to explain everything and the Count nodded.
"Yes, Van Helsing. So convinced that restoring the strength of the bloodlines would bring about the apocalypse. The Order loves that prophecy."
"I'm sorry for your loss," she offered sincerely.
"Don't be. It was my own foolish pride, my arrogance in thinking that I could get away with leaving the Valerious line unbroken. I wanted to torment my father's lineage into the eternities as punishment for my father's betrayal."
"He had tried to have you killed?"
"More than once. It was the Valerious' that brought Van Helsing to the Carpathians in the first place. After my murder, he had fallen from God's grace and as punishment for his sordid life, he lost his memory at some point. I had hoped that the loss of his memory meant that he was no longer a threat. A vast understatement on my part."
"He still doesn't have his memory, you know," Afina offered. Much of her memory appeared restored by this point, as though someone had removed a veil from her eyes. Some things she still couldn't quite recall – like the details of last few days of her mortal life, but the rest of it was there, a collection of conscious memory.
The Count was intrigued by this bit of information, but didn't have a moment to discuss it further with her. They had arrived at the village and were being greeted by at least sixty villagers, armed with stakes, axes, swords, and pitchforks, ready to defend their small town.
And tied up and gagged was the vampire hunter's companion – Isabella.
Dracula smirked.
"Ah, I love it when they cooperate."
He took a step forward.
"Just take the woman and leave us in peace," the man holding the female hunter demanded. He was the tallest of the bunch and clearly their leader. The Count took a single step forward and Afina nearly laughed when the entire village took two steps back. Only their leader held his ground, though Afina could tell by the sound of his heart that he was terrified. Count Dracula immune to daylight was one thing, but an additional vampire with the same immunity – it was unheard of.
"And why would I show mercy to an entire village of weak, pathetic humans harboring not one, but two vampire hunters?" he inquired. His voice was so smooth, so calculating, even Afina felt a chill run down her spine. This was the first time she had truly seen him interact with others – that she could remember, anyway. His air of confidence, the way he held himself – he was a natural-born leader.
"We have lived in these mountains for generations," an older woman in the back exclaimed. "Spare our lives so that we may continue to do so. Take the hunter and go in peace. We have done nothing to offend you."
"I don't make deals with peasants."
"But I do," Afina interjected, to everyone's astonishment. She boldly moved forward until she was standing side-by-side with him. "We will take this hunter and give you your lives in exchange for your silence. Not a word of what you have seen today must leave this village. If that knowledge goes beyond these borders, we will know where the knowledge originated from, and I assure you, the river with run with your blood and the blood of your children."
The silence was deafening, but the mortals understood. The leader nodded his approval, shoved the tied-up hunter in the direction of the Count, and crossed himself.
"Illa ut requiescant in pace," he muttered, taking a step back.
Before the Count could bring the woman to her feet, Afina was standing over her, a look of curious wonder in her eyes as she struggled to place the face and the name with her still foggy memories.
The dark hair and eyes were familiar, but it was her voice when she uttered "nosferatu" behind her gag that brought a fragment of a recollection back.
"Isabella," Afina said aloud, partially in acknowledgement, but mostly in reminisce.
The name had a whirlwind of emotions attached to it – feelings like friendship, jealousy, and betrayal. Isabella managed to maneuver herself to her knees before her new captor and she struggled with her gag. The Count untied it so she could speak more clearly.
"Damphir slut!" the hunter spat. Her insult was met with Afina's hand around her neck, holding her head in place as she stared directly into her eyes. Isabella struggled against the power of Afina's mind manipulation, straining to look away from the electric swirl of her glowing blue eyes, but the lack of breath made it near impossible and with very little effort, Afina was in her head and soon, the female hunter was unconscious.
Not much on the author's notes end for this chapter. Just wanted to thank ForeverACharmedOne, invisible reader, and Anna for their reviews on Chapter 3. I appreciated the time you took to share your reactions and feedback. I always love to hear what my readers think, so many thanks!
Also - Happy Belated Canada Day to my Canadian readers (you're showing up in my traffic stats, so I know you're there!), as well as a Happy Belated Independence Day to my fellow yanks! Hope everyone had a fun and safe holiday. And to everyone else, I hope you all have a fabulous weekend! Stay cool if you're like me and living in an area where it's been over 100°F/37°C for the last couple of weeks.
Next chapter update should be sometime next week, so until then - let me know what you think and thank you for taking the time to read!
Musical Influences:
[1] Scorpiox, by Ramin Djawadi, "Clash of the Titans" OST
[2] The Queen is Dead, by Richard Gibbs, "Queen of the Damned" Score
[3] Velocitron, by Two Steps From Hell, "Invincible"