I can still remember the song I was listening to when this and the follow chapter popped into my head. It was Two Steps From Hell's Undying Love. I don't necessarily know why that particular song inspired the following pair of chapters, but it did, and I remember when the idea came, it hit me so hard to the point that I had to pull over in my car because I couldn't see due to the tears.

Because these two chapters are so closely intertwined, I've decided to post them together. This goes completely against my publishing schedule, but screw it. You're getting both of them now.

I have agonized over these chapters for well over a month and a half now. Even with that agonizing they remain imperfect, but hopefully I was able to get across just an inkling of the vision in my head. This wasn't the original direction I had planned on going with this story - mostly because the grand scale of it all was and still is very challenging to get across. Hopefully I did it justice.

Please forgive the errors you may find within. The musical influences for this and the following chapter will be in the author's notes at the ending of chapter 17, so there aren't any "interruptions" between chapters. The Epilogue will probably be posted sometime later this week or next week.

And, as always, let me know what you think! Reviews are ALWAYS appreciated!

A huge thanks to KaiaUchiha1 and invisible reader for their reviews of chapter 15 and an even bigger thanks to Cosmopolitan Countess for going back to review each of the earlier chapters this last week when she was playing catch-up. I always love hearing what you have to say!

ENJOY!

Chapter 16: Darkest Hour

The sun was setting and Gabriel Van Helsing couldn't seem to shake the sense of foreboding that had settled in his stomach as he rode a black stallion through the gates and across the Piazza San Pietro, the enormous courtyard in front of St. Peter's Basilica. The bells chimed as he passed two enormous fountains and the two semicircular rows of columns that surrounded the large open space.

St. Peter's was the oldest, and arguably the greatest structure in all of Christendom. The lore behind the building stated that it had been built on the very site that Peter, one of Christ's beloved apostles, had been buried after his inverted crucifixion – to put it plainly, it had been built on his very blood.

The church carried the weight of centuries on its columns, having endured the lives of countless kings, rulers, popes, and wars – holy and otherwise.

The notorious hunter reached the stairs in front of the church and quickly dismounted, soon greeted by a cardinal dressed in red.

"Well?" Cardinal Jinette inquired, struggling to remain composed.

"They're coming," was all Van Helsing said, and he glanced warily behind him at the red sky above before ushering the man into the church. The large doors were quickly shut behind them as the two men strode across the marble floor. The light inside the building came primarily from the clerestories, the upper portion of the outer walls that held the stained-glass windows. The light streaming in through those windows in the evening had always been strangely comforting to Van Helsing in the past, but with the light of a red sun streaming in through the windows and gradually disappearing into darkness, it served only as a reminder that they were running out of time.

The cathedral was built in the shape of a cross, at the center of which was the great dome created by Michelangelo himself. The structure was more than seven hundred feet deep, and it took the two some time to reach their destination. There were no monks chanting this evening. The only thing that could be heard was the quick steps of the two men and the bells in the distance.

The two reached an ornate confessional and stepped inside and with a flick of a switch, the wall opened up, revealing a secret staircase.

"Were you able to get the others out?" the hunter asked as they made their way down the spiral stairs.

"Yes. The Holy Father arrived safely in Spain this morning. Most of the Bishops are out of the city. The few that remain we had to – take care of."

Van Helsing looked at the Cardinal with an arched expression.

"That's kind of blasphemous, isn't it?"

"Desperate times," Jinette replied, crossing himself. "And what about you? Did you complete your mission?"

"Yes. Craven had confirmed that one of our allies, Tom, had managed to successfully pollute all blood and wine in Vilkova the night of Dracula's party."

"And he wasn't discovered?"

"Dracula never pays any attention to his servants, apparently. And even if he had, Miss Nouveau was distraction enough. All of the vampires should be linked to Count Dracula now – whether directly or through the head of their bloodline. When he is destroyed, they all go with him."

"And Tom and his family?"

"I received word that he and his family arrived safely in New York City last week. They are out of danger."

"And what of our vampire allies?" Jinette couldn't help but say the words with mild disgust.

"Craven disobeyed your orders and made a move to attack the night of the ball. My only surviving source said that all members of the coup were destroyed."

"One less thing we have to deal with, I suppose," the Cardinal replied, muttering a prayer for their lost souls as they reached the underground armory below. It was enormous, but still only a small part of the subterranean universe that was hiding under the great basilica.

The entire place was bustling with action – more so than usual – as the employed monks and scientists struggled to prepare themselves for battle. Steam of the blast furnaces were filling the air and the fires roared. Jewish rabbis, Hindu priests, Christian monks and friars, and Muslim imams all worked alongside one another like a well-oiled machine, working billows, hammering red-hot scimitars on anvils, loading weapons – preparing for war.

"And what of our mole?" the Cardinal inquired.

"Safe, for the time being."

"Undiscovered, I hope."

"Yes, as far as I could gather."

"And current status?"

"The stone is still active. If I can't defeat Dracula myself, I can activate the weapon. Either way, he won't be walking out of this alive."

"None of them will be," the Cardinal replied and the two stopped to watch as everyone bustled about with purpose and desperation. There was a tension in the air that was palpable and though it sent adrenaline rushing through Van Helsing's veins, a part of him prayed that Dracula would call the whole thing off.

The vampires weren't the only ones that wouldn't survive the night. Each individual in that room knew that chances for survival were virtually non-existent. But they wouldn't go down without a fight. And what a fight it would be!

"What will happen to the Order, when all of this is done?"

"God be willing, we'll survive as we always do."

"That's a little naïvely optimistic, don't you think?" Van Helsing asked.

"I have faith that God will deliver us."

"I hope you're right."

"You don't believe we will endure, that God will not come to our aid when we have dedicated our lives to doing His work?" the Cardinal inquired. Van Helsing could tell some of the others were listening in on their conversation. He knew what they needed most was some kind of encouragement, but he couldn't give it to them. He had learned a great deal about his relationship with Dracula – or more specifically, with Vlad the Impaler. Although he couldn't recall his past actions, the evidence was there. He knew he had what was coming to him, he just wished it hadn't come to this – an inevitable bloodbath.

"I think we're standing at the mouth of Hell, on the verge of coming face to face with all the wrath of the devil himself. To put it plainly, Father, I think we're about to have our asses handed to us."

He half expected the Cardinal to chastise him for blasphemy, and was surprised when he didn't.

"Then we give it all back, and twice as hard. The wrath of God is greater than that of Lucifer and his legions of fallen angels."

"Whatever happened to turning the other cheek?" he asked irreverently, an amused grin on his face.

Jinette merely smiled.

"I can turn the other cheek and swing a left hook at the same time just fine. I am certain that you can do the same."

Carl suddenly appeared. Van Helsing hardly recognized the friar at first, as he had ditched the traditional robes for something less cumbersome, with a light armor underneath. He had a gas-propelled crossbow slung over his shoulder. It was amazing how much the man had changed in the last six years – from awkward to far more put-together and confident.

"The men above are ready for action, Father," he reported to the Cardinal with a slight bow. "There have been sightings of vampires at the base of the Apennines. It is expected that they'll descend upon us in less than an hour." He looked over at Van Helsing, slight trepidation in his eyes. "Dracula has been sited."

"How many are there?"

"Five or six hundred at the very least."

"God help us."

"Afina is with them. She's been made the Count's right hand."

The sound of the woman's name sent the entire room utterly still as an unnerving silence fell over all of them.

"Is it true that she…" Carl began, but Van Helsing cut him off before he could finish.

"Yes."

"Can she remember anything?"

"Many things, but apparently her transition was so traumatizing, some of her memories are still lost. She didn't even recognize Tom, and he's been working as a double agent for the Order for decades."

"Then how are we even supposed to stand a chance against them if she can't remember? I told you sending her in that deep undercover was too dangerous!" Carl practically shouted. "Henric told you the same thing and still you sent her."

"She's strong, she can take care of herself."

"But what if she's become… you know… emotionally involved with the Count?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"But you know what her mother's relationship was like with Dracula," Carl reminded both of them. "She grew up admiring the man. Alrik himself said she was destined for him."

"It doesn't matter. The situation is under control," Van Helsing insisted.

"But how? It's not like you can just tell her to kill Dracula and expect her to do it! He almost had Anna, Van Helsing, or don't you remember?"

The sound of the last Valerious' name sent a sharp pain through the hunter's heart.

"She was under a spell."

"Was she really? Is that what you've been telling yourself for the last seven years?"

"Enough! Both of you!" Jinette hissed. "Now is not the time to quarrel. It does not matter if Afina has taken the Count's side. We have our weapon and we will use it if necessary. Dracula will not live to see the sunrise and neither will any of the vampires. They all die tonight, with or without her. Understood?"

The two fell silent, but nodded and Van Helsing excused himself.

"Carl, prepare for battle. And send word the moment they cross over the threshold. We'll be ready for them if your lines are breached."

"Understood."

"And Carl?"

"Yes Father?"

"God be with you, my son," Jinette said, crossing himself before blessing the friar. Carl returned the gesture and then disappeared up the staircase. "God help us all," the Cardinal whispered to himself as he helped to finish with the final preparations.

Carl was left with roughly a hundred men to guard the entrance to the basilica. They stood there in the darkness of the night for nearly two hours with only the light of a full moon to keep them company as they stared straight ahead at the front gate of the Vatican. Rome was remarkably quiet that evening, absent of the usual comforting noises of revelers, drunks, or the occasional passing carriage. It was nearly an hour before midnight and Carl could tell his men were getting anxious – particularly when the lot of them jumped at the sound of a young woman's scream from almost a mile away. They could hear her running towards the Vatican, pleading for help from anyone that could hear her.

"Vampires!" she shrieked. "Vampires! Somebody! Anybody! Help." She threw herself against the Vatican gates and pulled at them in desperation. "Open the gates!" she screamed. "Sanctuary! Please! Please! Someone! Anyone!"

There was an unearthly roar from the shadows and the woman turned around to glance behind her. The scream that tore out of her throat sent an unsettling chill down every spine in the piazza. The men could barely make out the figure of the woman as she continued to rattle the gate of the Vatican, as if her meager strength could somehow break the chains that held it shut.

"Peter!" Carl called, and he motioned toward the woman at the gate. The monk-turned-solider understood the silent command and though hesitant, he obeyed and quickly made his way across the plaza to the gate.

"Oh thank God, bless you, bless you!" the woman sobbed, still clutching the bars of the gate as tightly as she could, so much so that her knuckles had gone white. Her neck had clearly been bitten into and she had blood running all over her.

"You shouldn't be here," Peter began, fumbling for the key to the gate. With trembling hands, he put the key in the lock.

"I was on my way home when this woman attacked me," she wept, her tears bathing his hand.

"Did you see what she looked like?" he asked, ready to pull the chains free when something wet splattered across his face and partially into his mouth. His tongue immediately recognized the taste of blood and he looked up slowly, horrified to find the woman's neck had been sliced open, a fountain of crimson pumping out of the fresh wound and all over him as she fell into a heap on the ground, lifeless. Her murderer was a beautiful woman with dark russet hair that curled in such a way, it resembled coiled snakes. Her eyes were an unearthly blue and her figure was clad in black, the clothing skin-tight, leaving little to the imagination when it came to what lied beneath.

One of her hands held the bar of the gate, as if to hold her up, the other was covered in the murdered woman's blood, terrifying claws dripping with the crimson. She ran her tongue over her bloody fingers in a way that was almost suggestive, animalistic, and he stood there, trapped and mortified, lost in the swirl of her glowing blue eyes.

"So sorry. Did I get that all over your face? Here, allow me" she said, and she reached through the bars of the gate and with a single finger lapped up some of the blood only to bring it back to her mouth. Peter stood, frozen in place, paralyzed either by fear or some otherworldly force that had rendered him unable to move. "What's your name, soldier?" she asked him, still holding his gaze. The sound of her voice made him lightheaded, as if he was under some kind of spell. He knew she was the enemy – whoever she was – but he had this sudden unexplainable need to please his mistress. The word felt foreign and wrong to him, but a darker, unexplored part of him liked the sound of it.

"Peter," he said.

"How poetic – Peter will open his gates to the damned after all," she mused and he could hear laughter coming from the shadows behind her. "Open the gates, Peter," she purred.

As though his will were not his own, he began to remove the chains from the gate.

"Nicely done," a voice commended her in the darkness. Peter glanced up to see a man donned in black with equally terrifying, yet hypnotically blue eyes. He had stepped from the shadows to stand beside the woman.

"That last scream was rather excellent, wasn't it?" she replied, extending her hand out to the man who took her wrist before running his tongue over the remaining bits of blood, lapping them up sensually as they looked into one another's eyes. This action appeared to please the woman and Peter heard her purr like some kind of cat as her body leaned in closer to the man. He could feel the sexual tension between the two and though every instinct told him it was sin, he found it captivating, unable to look away as the two spoke to one another in hushed tones, in a language he did not recognize, but the sound of it rolling off their tongues was deeply sensual. The two kissed passionately, seemingly unaware that Peter had finished opening the gates.

Another man and woman suddenly appeared out of the shadows. The two seemed to be related – with similar facial features and hair that was as red as fire, their eyes older than any other Peter had ever seen.

"Enough, you two," the redheaded woman teased. "Save it for later."

"Yes. As entertaining as it is to watch you ravish Afina's pretty mouth, I'm ready to kick some holy Order ass," the other replied, revealing a pair of deadly looking scimitars. The blades were decorated in what appeared to be ancient Celtic symbols and some other unrecognizable writing. Peter soon noticed a large group of vampires emerging from the shadows and that fear from before grew exponentially.

He recognized Afina's name and realized who she was and who the others were. Although something was still preventing him from moving, he was more consciously aware of the situation, and he swallowed hard.

"Very well, Reunan," the dark one said. This one had to be Dracula. "You may have the first kill."

Peter suddenly realized that the Count was motioning to him. His mind fought with the unknown force that was keeping him cemented to the ground as the one called Reunan pushed the gates open.

"At least let him run, Afina," he insisted, raising his swords.

Peter felt Afina leave his head and the second she was gone, he turned to run. He managed to get in three steps before Reunan appeared in front of him and the last conscious thought he had was of the split second of pain he felt when the blade of one of the swords collided with his neck.

Carl and his men watched in horror as Peter's head slumped off his shoulders, falling to the ground in a bloody heap.

"Hold your ground, men," Carl encouraged. "If we are meant to meet our maker, then make sure you send as many demons back to Hell as you can."

They watched as Reunan picked up Peter's disembodied head before punting it across the piazza with a powerful kick. It flew up into the night sky before landing almost perfectly on the spear of one of the soldiers. The vampires laughed at the display until Dracula commanded them to attack. They swarmed in through the gates like a flood of cockroaches, some running, others crawling on the columns that led to the basilica, and the rest taking to flight.

Carl made eye contact with Count Dracula for several long moments and the six months of nightmares he had had after Transylvania suddenly came flooding back – dreams of being tortured by Dracula, of Van Helsing as a werewolf, of Anna dying, of the vampire pygmy bats, of Dracula's brides and their horrifying beauty. But this – this was even worse than any dream his subconscious could have concocted. He watched as Afina appeared beside the Count, taking the monster's face in her hands and pulling him into a passionate kiss before baring her fangs and joining the crowd of vampires that were rapidly descending upon them.

So the rumors had been true, he thought to himself. Afina truly had turned to the other side. As Carl shouted the order to attack, he couldn't help but keep an eye out for her as he fought for his life. He watched as she took on easily four or six men at a time, immune to all of their specially created devices, even though many of the other vampires suffered the attacks. She was impenetrable, with just her claws she was a force to be reckoned with, but with a sword – witnessing what kind of killing machine she had become was almost awe-inspiring to the friar. Although she was slaughtering some of his closest friends, she was truly a wonder to behold. The ultimate weapon.

After a while he was forced to pry his eyes away from the woman, as he and his men were quickly becoming overrun, giving Dracula and Afina the perfect opportunity to slip into the basilica. Carl shouted to one of his soldiers to tell Cardinal Jinette that the line had been breached, but the soldier never had the chance to deliver the message. Carl watched in horror as Adnraste, Reunan's twin sister, tore the man's heart from his chest.

Knowing they didn't stand a chance, all fear seemed to leave Carl as he embraced his fate, running towards his recently murdered comrade before thrusting a specially devised blade straight into Adnraste's heart. Before she could offer a counter-attack, Carl pulled a vial out of his cloak pocket, revealing a purplish liquid. He broke the vial over Adnraste's teeth and the liquid, when it made contact with the air, exploded into a blinding light that erupted in her body until she exploded into ash with a violent scream. The heat of the light burned the right-side of Carl's face, singeing his hair and the pain was excruciating.

Adnraste's destruction caught everyone's attention and the vampires stood there in silent disbelief as her remains floated in the air around them like a dust cloud.

Reunan's cries of anguish and fury fell on deaf ears as Carl dramatically turned with his sword in hand, his eyes locked on the enraged vampire, slaying what other vampires he could as the ancient one barreled his way through the carnage, desperate to annihilate the friar who had just destroyed his sister.

…

Vigdís quickly caught up with Afina and Dracula as they made their way through the church, slicing through anyone that got in their way with relative ease as Afina led them to the ornate confessional. As she pulled the lever that revealed the secret stair, Vigdís couldn't help but smirk. "Am I the only one that finds it mildly amusing that the secret entrance to the Order's hidden lair is in a confessional?"

Dracula smirked.

"I'm definitely not surprised."

"Come. Dragoş should be down there by now," Afina said, motioning for them and a couple other vampires to follow. She was right. At the bottom of the stair it looked like a warzone. It was difficult to tell who was winning. Although the vampires had the advantage of immortality, the Order had been prepared and had cooked up several surprises for them – like sunlight bombs, ultra-violet liquid that caused violent explosions when it came in contact with the air, silver-stakes soaked in holy water and werewolf venom, gas-propelled crossbows, and large vats of silver nitrate.

The small company immediately noticed Dragoş in the center of the battle, wielding a frighteningly barbaric looking blade in one hand and what appeared to be the leg of a table in the other. His wife, Raynora, was disintegrating away just a few feet before him, one of the Order's deadly devices in her chest. The room reeked of blood and ash.

Vigdís immediately ran to his aid, and with one strong swipe of her hand, Cardinal Jinette's head came flying off before the holy man could lay a finishing blow. Afina felt her heart break as she watched her strong uncle fall to his knees in anguish before the pile of ash that had been her aunt. As Vigdís struggled to fight off the attackers, Dragoş let out an unearthly cry, Raynora's ash falling between his fingers. The Count quickly ran to Vigdís' aid, as she was on the verge of being overcome by members of the Order and Afina couldn't help but watch in agony at the carnage before her. She was heartbroken for her uncle's loss, and for the undoubtable loss they had already experienced.

She felt suddenly violent and bloodthirsty – and that's when she noticed Van Helsing at the other end of the room. He and Lucian were in the midst of an intense duel and Lucian was clearly on the losing end. The hunter had cornered her friend and before she could even take a step forward to come to his aid, Van Helsing had run a stake through Lucian's heart. She couldn't explain why, but she could feel his loss as he dissolved into dust. Tears burned in her eyes as she made her way down the rest of the stairs, grabbing a handsome blade that had fallen near a blazing fire, unfazed by the searing heat on her skin as she made her way through the massacre. Van Helsing's eyes soon met hers and a mutual understanding passed between them.

She would finish this, she swore silently to herself.

She followed him silently through the carnage and soon found him in an empty room. It was circular in shape with high walls that easily went a hundred feet up into the air. The ceiling appeared to be made of glass and the light of the full moon could be seen above, pouring into the darkness. Van Helsing stood, bathed in that moonlight, his sword raised in a defensive position.

"I don't want to kill you, Afina," he said immediately.

"Then you never should have sent me to Transylvania," she replied, shutting the door behind her, blocking out the sounds of war just outside the walls.

"That wasn't my decision."

"I don't recall you making any protestations when Jinette volunteered me."

"I didn't know he would turn you into a vampire, Afina."

Afina shrieked violently and threw the sword viciously in his direction and he barely managed to keep it from grazing his face.

"STOP LYING TO ME!" she screamed, fangs bared and face contorted in a demon's rage. The rapid and sudden loss of her newfound family was still fresh and she could feel the tears burning in her eyes at just the thought of losing another member. Or worse – all of them, if things continued on like this. "Why did you send me there?" she demanded. "TELL ME!"

"You know why," he answered.

"No I DON'T!" she shouted and she clutched her head in agony as an intense pain shot up her spine and into her skull. There was another memory – on the fringes of her mind and try as she might to reach it, she couldn't. Something was blocking it. "I can't remember, Gabriel… why can't I remember?"

Afina fell to her knees, still holding her head as images flashed before her eyes.

"You weren't supposed to lose your memories when he turned you," Van Helsing explained. "But your death and your transition were so traumatizing; and your second-nature, the influence of your father was so strong, your mind couldn't take it." She could hear him moving closer to her, cautiously, but steadily. He was kneeling in front of her now, his sword on the ground beside him and he carefully reached out to touch her.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered sincerely. "You weren't supposed to forget. What the Order did to you was supposed to keep you from falling under his spell. It failed."

She looked up at him in confusion and disbelief.

"What did you do to me?" she demanded in dangerous tones. "What have you done?"