Gargoyles, created by Greg Weisman, is the property of the Walt Disney Company. Dracula, created by Bram Stoker, is the property of everyone. Everything else in this story is based on real made-up history.
Special thanks to Masterdramon, Gryphinwyrm7 and Bookwyrm for beta-reading and feedback.
Orient Express, April 25th, 2:23 a.m. 1926 A.D.
The thing that had been Lord Falsworth pounced. Mina Harker drew her silver coated Kukri knife and raked the shining blade along the monster's chest in one smooth motion. The creature recoiled in abject agony, the gaping wound smouldering as though the metal had been white hot.
Harker lunged forward to drive her blade deep into the monster's throat but the Falsworth-thing moved too quickly. Its clawed hand slashed out with inhuman strength and speed, sending her and her silver weapon hurtling along the roof of the train. Only her own preternatural reflexes kept her from joining the brave Scot the creature had callously flung to her death only a moment ago.
The Englishwoman desperately reached for the fallen Kukri knife before a taloned hand clamped down on her wrist. Another hand wrapped around her throat as the demonic visage of Lord Falsworth leered down at her.
"You're weak, Harker," the thing rasped. "You've been starving yourself while I've drunk deep. Oh, how I tremble to think of the things the Master will do once he has you within his power again. Perhaps if I'm very lucky… he'll let me watch?"
Harker chuckled.
The creature scowled. "What is so amusing?"
"I already found your box, Falsworth." She smirked. "Come, sunrise, you'll have nowhere to sleep."
"No…" The Falsworth-creature's face contorted in rage and terror. "you… you lying whore!" It raised its talons to decapitate its prey in a single stroke, when a heavy boot slammed into the side of its skull.
"WAAAAHOOOO!" rang out a defiant Scottish brogue.
Harker looked up in astonishment as the Scot Falsworth had thrown overboard landed safely, if ungracefully, upon the train-top. Mechanical bat-like wings flared from her backpack, like a Da Vinchi sketch made manifest.
"God, I love this thing!" the Scot crowed proudly.
"Wretched Celt!" An enraged Falsworth pounced, ignoring his previous prey.
Harker snapped up the silver blade and leapt upon the beast's back. One hand roughly grabbed Falsworth by his scalp while the other hand brought the silvered knife around to cut deep into its throat.
The creature gurgled incoherently. Night black ichor spurting from its throat and mouth as Harker completely severed the fiend's head from its body.
The thing's corpse fell limply to the train-roof, reverting to human form as over a decade's worth of natural decay quickly caught up with it.
The Scot approached gingerly, glaring at the rotting corpse incredulously. "He was a…"
"A vampire, one of the Undead," replied Harker.
"Aren't they supposed to crumble into dust when ya' kill them?"
"Not always." Harker was pleasantly surprised. Most people in this situation would try to deny what they had witnessed but the Scot seemed to be acclimating to the existence of the supernatural quickly.
"So what do we do with him?" the Scot asked, gesturing at the body. "I don't fancy explain' that to the conductor."
"We can dump the body in the next river we cross, and the head in the one after that," Mina explained. "God willing, that will prevent any idiot from trying to resurrect him. Thank you for your assistance, Miss...?"
The Scot extended her hand. "Canmore, Fiona Canmore?"
"Mrs. Wilhelmina Harker," she said, taking the hand. "But my friends call me 'Mina'."
"Fair enough… Mina."
[-]
Fiona sipped her coffee, sitting across from Mina. Normally, the dinning carriage would be deserted this early in the morning but one of the night attendants had been brewing some coffee while the two women were passing and offered them both a cup.
"And the Canmore clan have been hunting demons and monsters ever since. After my brother Jackson died, I got conscripted inta the 'family business'." Said Fiona, finishing her tale. "So what's yuir story?"
"A vampire killed my husband," said Mina, brooding over her own coffee. "I can never forgive the monster responsible, so now I hunt them."
"I'm sorry," said Fiona. "I should nea have asked."
"It's alright. Somehow, I doubt it's mere chance we're both bound for Budapest. Perhaps we should pool our resources?"
Fiona and Mina spent the better part of an hour sharing all they knew of the strange nocturnal sighting above Budapest and Karl Schappeller respectively.
"You think this Schappeller character's working for a vampire?" Fiona asked.
"I admit I was sceptical," Mina replied. "But these reports of yours are… suggestive. Sadly, Schappeller wouldn't be the first to turncoat on mankind."
"Well, I'm in." Fiona lifted her cup. "To the Hunt?"
"To the Hunt," Mina responded in kind. She rose to leave as the grey light of dawn creeped over the horizon. "If you'll excuse me, Miss Canmore, it's been a tiring night. I hope I'll see you before we reach Budapest?"
"Likewise," Fiona watched as her new found comrade silently make her way through to the sleeping carriage. "Hm, she must be tired. Didn't even touch her coffee."
[-]
Once secure within her private sleeping compartment, Mina drew a small black pouch from her dress. She opened it, allowing a deathly stench to fill the room before spreading over the bed a thin layer of earth dug from an English grave, her grave.
[-]
Budapest, 9:10 p.m.
Once more, Fiona found herself on a swarming train platform. Though this time disembarking rather than boarding.
"I'm sorry to see you go," Shari said as she gave the Scot a brief hug.
Fiona chuckled. "Just try not to get inta too much trouble in Istanbul, alright?"
"I shan't make promises I have no intention of keeping," said Shari before turning to offer Mina a hug.
"Miss Zade," Harker inclined her head slightly.
"Don't take it personally," Fiona whispered in Shari's ear. "She's English, they're all like that."
"Well…" Shari fidgeted with her jewellery. "I best get back on board before the train leaves without me. Do write, Fiona. I'd love to hear how this story continues."
"You mean how it ends?" asked Fiona.
"Don't be silly, Fiona." Shari smirked back as she re-embarked. "Real stories don't have endings, just places where the teller ran out of room."
"There's something queer about that girl," remarked Mina. "No one who smiles that much can have wholesome cause for it."
"Ach, yuir being paranoid," replied Fiona. "So, any thoughts on where we go from here?"
"I doubt it's a coincidence Schappeller and Falsworth both developed a sudden interest in Budapest," Mina mused. "Falsworth would likely have arranged to have his earth box transported to a prepared lair somewhere in the city."
"Simple enough," said Fiona. "We just wait for someone to show up and follow them back to Schappeller."
They watched as the remaining Wagon Lit attendants wrestled the ungainly coffin-box down onto the platform. They were approached by a pair of rather plain looking Hungarian workmen who presented them with what looked like a letter of introduction.
"Here we go," whispered Fiona.
[-]
In little over an hour, Fiona and Mina stood across the street from a decaying Budapest townhouse. They watched as the workmen finished loading the earth box into the main hall. They locked the front door behind them, tossing the keys in the letter box and riding their cart into the night.
Fiona looked up and down the street. "All clear, I could pick the lock but that'll likely take a while and could get awkward if one o' the local bobbies passes by."
"I have a better idea," said Mina. "Wait ten minutes then come knock on the front door." The black clad woman crossed the street and disappeared into a darkened alley by the house.
Fiona waited pensively, alone in the night. She could almost feel the shadows pressing in around the orange glow of the street lamps. No matter how bright or long the light burned, the dark always seemed to be waiting for the first sign of weakness, the first flicker of doubt. Not for the first time in her life, she wondered what was hiding in those shadows.
She crossed the street and raised her hand to knock on the door. Before her knuckles had even grazed the wood, it swung open, revealing Mina standing in the lamp light.
Fiona cocked an eyebrow in mild surprise. "I dinne hear any windows break. How the Devil did you get in here?"
"I crawled down the chimney," Mina responded flatly.
Fiona smirked. "And here was I thinkin' you dinne have a sense of humour."
A search of the house revealed little. Apparently, it had lain vacant for many years and little had been done to maintain the upkeep or prepare it for its new tenant. While it might once have been a lavish abode, now it practically choked with dust and cobwebs.
While searching the dining room, Fiona happened upon a small envelope, relatively free of dust and intentionally left where someone would easily spot it. The wax seal bore the image of a dragon or serpent of some kind, biting down on its own tail.
She ripped the envelope open without any particular ceremony and began to read. The handwriting looked strangely archaic in style but she could make it out easily enough.
Falsworth,
Our rivals move faster than anticipated. Seek the Tear of Danu. This is your final chance to redeem yourself in my eyes. Do not waste it.
Your Lord and Master, now and forever,
D.
Fiona was alerted by the sound of breaking glass as a large rock came sailing through the window, followed by a metallic oval shaped object.
Mina burst into the room. "Fiona, what is…"
"Grenade!" Fiona cried, tackling the Englishwoman as they dived headfirst out the broken window.
They hit the cold pavement with a thud, followed by a deafening explosion from inside the house. Within a few minutes, the entire edifice was in flames. Fiona looked up to see a motorcar recklessly swing a corner as it fled.
"Damn it," she swore.
[-]
Back in Room 23 of the Grand Royal Hotel, Mina sorted through a stack of local and international papers while Fiona paced back and forth like a caged tigress. The Scot despised inactivity, especially while the prey's trail was only getting colder by the minute.
"You're certain the letter referred to the 'Tear of Danu'?" asked Mina.
"Yes, whatever that means." Answered Fiona.
"Danu was an Indo-European goddess who gave her name to the river Danube. The Tear of Danu is a gem believed to be of 5th century Hunnic origins and passed down to the Árpád dynasty, Hungary's first kings."
Fiona perked up, "How the Hell do you know all that?"
Mina help up a newspaper baring a photograph of a small gem on a silver chain. "Because it's currently on display at the Hungarian National Museum."
[-]
Erzsébetváros District, Budapest, April 29th, 11:55 p.m.
Fiona stamped her foot on the rooftop, as though she could hold back the cold of the biting night through sheer bloody-mindedness. Next to her, Mina kept careful watch on the Hungarian National Museum across the street. A statue of János Arany, the Hungarian "Shakespeare of Ballads" sat enthroned before the regal edifice.
"Why aren't you freezing yuir arse off?" Fiona stamped her foot again.
"I'm accustomed to the cold," replied Mina.
"Are you certain about this," the Scot asked. "We've been casing this place for three nights now and so far…" She froze in mid-sentence, hunter's instincts kicking in as she dragged Mina into the sheltering shadows.
"What in God's name…" Mina hissed.
Fiona put a finger to the Englishwoman's lips before pointing upwards. A black winged shadow soared across the moon before descending upon the museum's rooftop.
[-]
Fiona hurled a grappling hook through the shattered window, giving it a few vigorous tugs to ensure it had caught securely. She quickly scrambled up the thin rope, followed closely by Mina.
As they carefully edged over the shards of broken glass into the museum's darkened hall way, Mina suddenly tensed like a cornered cat.
"What's wrong?" Fiona whispered.
"I smell… something," replied Mina quietly, pointing towards where the corridor turned.
Fiona drew her pistol and edged cautiously towards the end of the corridor, peaking her head slowly around the corner. "My God."
The body of a night watchmen lay sprawled in a pool of his own blood, his face crushed and made unrecognisable by a blow of some heavy weapon.
"Did a vampire do this, Mina?" asked Fiona. "Mina?"
The Englishwoman stood stock straight, shaking violently at the sight of the bloody mangled mess.
"Hey," Fiona steadied the Englishwoman's arm. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," said Mina, mastering herself. She looked around, the corridor forked. "Perhaps we should divide our forces… cover more ground?"
Fiona nodded. Some might question the wisdom of splitting up, but both women were used to hunting solo. It was their element.
The Scot drew her pistol and stalked alone down the left corridor, coming to one of the main exhibit halls. Everywhere she turned, relics of Hungary's former Imperial glory shone like stars in the night sky, save for one glass case that stood shattered and empty.
Something moved behind her.
Before she could turn, something blue and leathery brutally struck from the darkness, sending Fiona and her weapon scattering across the room. She tried to scramble for the gun, only to find herself pinned to the cold marble floor as razor sharp talons dug into her back.
"How many times do I have to kill you, Hunter?" an all too familiar voice spoke. A voice Fiona had heard in her nightmares every night for years. She craned her neck back to see her captor, knowing full well the sight that would greet her.
The creature's foot was planted firmly in Fiona's back, a bloody mace still clutched tightly in its fist. Its skin was pale blue, leather wings like those of some extinct reptile sprouted from its shoulder blades. A shocking crimson mane framed a face so deceptively human it would be almost beautiful if not for the snarling fangs and the eyes that blazed with Hellish hate. It was the very embodiment of Evil, the thing her brother, her father and her forefather's had all given their lives to vanquish.
"Well," the Demon drawled indifferently as it raised the gore crusted mace. "I suppose one more won't make much difference."
To be continued…