Count Rothchild Read online

  He seemed up for the travel and they rode along the shore swiftly down the coast and then up into the nearby western mountains. The high jagged peaks were above them for quite a while before they came to more level ground.

  Once there, all noticed stone crosses on the sides of the dirt road as they carried on.

  Paublo wondered why they were placed randomly. He decided to ask. “I don’t understand these roadside crosses all about. Is there a reason for such placement?”

  Antione slowed them and, as they trotted a bit, he explained. “It is said in legend that long ago, and I mean hundreds of years ago, if not more, Vlad Tepes, the ruler of the region, slew close to fifty thousand people near here while being a tyrant of the worst nature. It was in various spots like this that common folk put up these crosses so that travelers may halt and pray for those they had lost and for their own lives as well.”

  Tatijana stopped and got down, looking at one such stone cross. “Are you saying that perhaps his son dwells closer than you have mentioned here in this very region?”

  Antione quickly informed her he did not know. “The immortal vampir live so long I have no clue where he may actually dwell these days.”

  Everyone now scanned about the roadside.

  Riding once more, they eventually cut through a pass of overgrown trees and hanging branches, when from the treetops above something erupted.

  There was no doubt it was some sort of bird, more than one, and they did not waste any time, diving rapidly down at the riders. These were no ordinary birds; they had long snouts, jagged near their ends and on both sides. The eyes, though, they were beady and almost milky white.

  At first each rider tried to spur their horse forward, delving deeper into the pine forest. The scattering pine needles on the woodland floor became the riders’ carpet to freedom. Yet, as quickly as they rode, the long-beaked birds would not give up the chase.

  Tatijana reared her horse and turned about. She drew her massive sword and called back to the others passing her, “We cannot outrun them. Defend yourselves; be aware these are bloodsuckers.”

  Two then flew at her as she hacked away at another.

  One landed on her sword hand and the wild woman bit down into its back, ripping the creature’s shoulder and head off in the process.

  Bloodsuckers, thought Paublo. What kind of weird bird ever does that?

  Antione Van Helsing backed her last statement up. ‘Don’t let them latch onto you; they will not let go and continue to drain you.”

  He, too, had a weapon out. He jammed his double-ended spear into one leech, and it hit true, causing the bird to flutter off to the side and land in the pine needles. The thing was almost gray in color, yet had human-like flesh with yellowish brown speckles on its body.

  Marco had his hand axe at the ready and he was able to chop at the nearest attacker. He cut off one of its wings, forcing it to ground; it moved about some and then toppled over.

  Oliver had a short sword in his hand as one landed on his right shoulder. He jammed the blade’s point back at it and orangey-red blood erupted from such all over his body and neck. The bird fell away from him, unable to latch on fully.

  With one great heave and battle yell, Tatijana chopped two more in half as they flew around her and at her face.

  One struck into Van Helsing’s horse; it had embedded itself deep in the animal’s side.

  He saw it happen, calling forth, “Quick, someone light a fire; use a torch to burn it off.”

  Marco was on it. He took a torch from his pack, lit it up, and rode side to side with Antione’s stallion, lowering the torch to burn the thing. It slithered out and flew off.

  The professor was mighty pleased at such quick action, nodding at the dark-skinned man in approval. Marco gave him a big smile.

  The rest of the long-snouted stirges decided to fly back up into the trees from whence they had come. It was a welcome sight to all.

  The riders regrouped and sped off together thereafter back down the forest path.

  However, one bird, a lone wolf, flew down the trail after them. It drove itself into Oliver’s backside.

  He screamed out frantically, “Help, somebody, get it off of me! I can’t reach it.”

  His fellow riders slowed, seeing his dilemma.

  Tatijana darted her horse near to Oliver’s and raised her scimitar high in the air. Oliver’s eyes widened, concerned about what she was about to do. She then sliced down on the protruding rear end of the burrowed bird. The cut was so close to his own flesh, yet she severed the creature’s rear right off.

  Oliver gulped once it was over; the others were all in awe of her accuracy as to not slicing him as well. They rode deeper in the woods thereafter.

  After more riding and the skirmish with the nasty birds, the riders came now before two rock walls, through which they slowly rode in between, and then beyond. After, they saw the old black stone church in the distance.

  The place was creepy, a semi-ruined structure ghostly in its looks. It was broken down with vines, and weather worn as to crumbling in various places. A great shadow from a mountain peak loomed over it and the place was Gothic-looking, to say the least. The adjoining wooden buildings about all appeared caved in, rotten, and useless.

  The five of them dismounted and found an opening to enter.

  The walls emitted evil as soon as they made a first step through a semi unlocked door.

  Oliver asked, “What exactly went on in this god-forsaken place? Is it not a house of the Lord in some manner, or at least was back in time?”

  All noticed non-typical church items.

  Oliver was even now looking closer upon a table at old and jagged torture devices, those being screws, pulleys, spiked hammers, iron cuffs, neck collars, and ball gags.

  Antione shrugged. “The secrets inside these walls are secrets unknown. I can only imagine, yet agree they are better left unsaid.”

  Later they entered what appeared to be the main dining chamber and overall the biggest room in the place. A cathedral ceiling went up and high above; they saw large stained glass windows still intact. The designs were of the sun and the moon.

  “I pity the people who worked in such a place as this,” said Tatijana, now undoing her scimitar and pulling such from her back. She had a look of compassion, noted Paublo, and it was not something he was used to. She added, “Objects like this should not be part of such a holy place.”

  Paublo saw long tables and tossed about chairs. There was a shelf to the right, which still contained old bottles of something dusty and unclear. A large chalice reposed on the same shelf.

  Marco was over by it and revealed such, taking it up and showing all. “It’s silver; I’m surprised a brigand has not yet taken such from here.”

  Antione Van Helsing nodded. “I surmise that no thief dares enter this forsaken hole.”

  The others swallowed roughly at Antione’s statement.

  Marco then dumped out old, mildewed bread wafers from such onto the floor, crying out in disgust, “Rotten food, how gross.”

  Van Helsing explained, “It is said that the members of such an altered house of the Lord were often fed the blood and body of he, being wine and bread. It was a way to ease their souls from the madness that had overtaken them. For he who consumes such finds great salvation.”

  Tatijana seemed preoccupied. “All of you take out your weapons; I sense danger and it’s coming fast.” It was obvious now; her arrowhead necklace had lit up to a bright blue.

  From the shadows figures emerged. A dozen or so pale-faced men and women floated forward, surrounding the five seekers.

  Tatijana pointed her scimitar at the closest one, taking a fighting stance, while Paublo and the others had their weapons at a ready as well. These were the undead, and all hell was about to ensue.

  Van Helsing wasted no time with a weapon; his cross he held strongly before him. “Be gone, vile creatures; let this show you the way. I say be gone in the name of the lord.”
r />   The figures seemed to step back, yet it might have not been because of his undying faith in Zeus.

  A tall red-headed woman stepped out from the pack and laughed at his cross. She mocked the holder, seemingly not affected.

  “Do you think that can slow me down? Are you not one of the infamous members of the Van Helsing crew? Perhaps you need to read more. The older of my kin fear not such a holy relic. In time your petty safety items mean nothing to us. It’s the benefits of aging,” she added with a fang-toothed smile.

  Everyone backed up some now, standing together ready to defend. From corners of the chamber more such creatures emerged behind and to the left and right of the five adventurers. They were now fully surrounded and heavily outnumbered.

  Tatijana did not step back. She growled now at what was here. This was it, her life goal suddenly before her. To seek the undead was one matter, but to have so many before her, it suddenly threw the brave half-breed into a fighting frenzy.

  The undead flew at them. Some crawled up the walls from each side, springing out for a good attack point, while above others crept along the roof and then dropped to land directly before their intended targets.

  Tatijana fully took the lead with both Marco and Oliver at her side. The Nosferatu were thin and pale, such ugly monstrosities. All now had their mouths wide, seeking warm flesh and in hope of tasting those that were before them.

  Paublo drew his long sword and Antione Van Helsing his double-ended spear.

  The vampires were like spiders moving about and coming from all angles.

  Tatijana took on a look of rage now; she certainly had a lust for battle, a bloodlust like none had seen before.

  Her first assailant tried to wrap its bony clawed fingers around her throat, yet she dropped down to one knee, slicing across its thighs, and then she came up spinning and sliced it across its cheekbone, taking half of the undead’s face off.

  Another leaped on her back and she attempted to shake it off, but it clutched tightly and tore away at her cloak seeking skin to devour.

  She, with one hand, punched backwards, whacking it in the face, but it still hung on. It was then she felt the blood, her own blood, oozing from her shoulders and lower neck. She turned about and leapt backwards, smashing the creature’s head into the stone floor underneath with her own weight and fall.

  It remained attached. She got up and did it again until it finally let go. The thing was broken yet still alive; the huntress then fed her large blade down its throat, and it immediately turned gaseous.

  Marco was not faring as well; one vampire hit him low and grabbed his leg, while another held him by the upper body, each tearing into his flesh with their claws and their now elongated fangs. It was then the lower one got a horrible bite in on him.

  His brother came to help, hacking away with his hand axe that which got the top bloodsucker to release its grip. Oliver then stomped the creature’s face in. The lower vampire was driving its maw into Marco’s thigh; it stopped with a blood-soaked face, looking up at Oliver.

  Before anything else occurred, Antione rammed his spear into it from the backend. It let go of Marco now and crawled back into the shadows.

  Paublo came near the brave professor and they stood back to back. Marco lay on the floor nearby, merely holding on.

  “This is absolutely crazy,” Paublo announced.

  The man near him did not think any different. The young son of Gaylen was sweating and shaking, trying to remain steadfast in his defense.

  Van Helsing was pretty good with that double-ended spear. He gave one oncoming monster a solid ramming right between its shoulder blades. He wanted to get out the blue healing crystals for Marco next, but a second tried to claw him across the face. He ducked and then drove his spear tip into the thing’s gut. Paublo battled two and cut across the face of the first, yet the other slipped to his blind side and prepared to chew on his exposed neck artery. It was then Van Helsing threw his double-bladed weapon into the lowering vampire and it struck true.

  Paublo was impressed and thankful, but yet another Nosferatu dropped from the ceiling, this time directly on top of him, pinning the young warrior to the stone floor. He screamed out, but it was to no avail.

  “I will now taste your warm blood, you cannot stop me,” the awful thing whispered to him.

  Tatijana had her own answer to what was happening. She ran full tilt towards them and sliced full force across the vampire’s upper shoulder and neck area. It was a heck of a strike and the beast rolled forward, turning to black smoke.

  Others of this pack attacked her and clawed her in the back and on her legs. The huntress felt little of her wounds, fighting and defeating more of the nasty beasts.

  She looked to Marco; he could barely stand. He was fading fast and the others went to him, dragging him back from fighting.

  “How bad is it?” she asked.

  Van Helsing shook his head. It was bad and all knew it. Half of the man’s leg was actually chewed off.

  Then, from on high, a figure dropped to the floor. He was a tall, dark-haired man wearing a flowing black cape, and he did not look too happy.

  The red-haired leader of this dreadful coven spun about.

  “There you are. It seems you still walk the night after all, my love.” She then held a hand up for her minions to cease. “Why is it, dear, that you interrupt us for the sake of these puny mortals?”

  Rothchild stepped closer to where the now drenched in blood Tatijana stood. He was the same man from on the ship; she saw that for certain. She pointed her great sword at him, yet he walked even closer to her, looking into her eyes. He seemed concerned more than ever.

  “I hear two heartbeats within you,” he whispered to her. “Not only yours, my daughter, but of a child you soon shall bear. Leave this place, be free from all of it, go now, and get out of here while you still can.” He seemed serious in his words.

  Before he could say too much more, a vampire sprung at him. It attempted to latch onto his throat, yet he blocked the reaching arms of such a vile creature, knocking it away and throwing the attacker across the big hall into a wall.

  Another came forth as the redhead smiled at Tatijana, watching along with her. It, too, tried to grab Rothchild, yet he caught it by both its wrists and then crossed the undead monster’s arms over one another and spun under it, launching it over his body in an arm breaking throw.

  Rothchild saw more coming at him and then others moving towards the four remaining comrades near him.

  “Stop it, Claudiva!” he yelled out fiercely. “Let these people go and I will honor my prior agreement this very night.”

  She was tense and doubted his offer. “You have said this before. The Crim is losing patience with you.” She called forth to have those before her destroyed. “Put an end to these humans now!”

  He knew, seeing the others move at his daughter and her companions, he would need to react fast. There would be no more discussion here. His false attempt at her trust did not work. He went about summoning a thousand bats from the belfry of this wretched madhouse. They immediately swarmed downward.

  Many came from outside as well, busting through the stained glass windows from on high. They formed a funnel-shaped opening, one guarding Tatijana and her friends from the oncoming vampires. The bats kept the monsters at bay with such a circular wall, yet a break suddenly appeared and Marco, too weak to resist, was dragged out of such. Everyone screamed, but it was too late.

  Tatijana knew it was futile to abandon such a barrier. “Stay inside the funnel, there’s too many of them!” she cried out. “He is gone now. Keep moving towards the exit; we have to get out of here.”

  Her servant’s screams caused each of them to cringe inside even more. She closed her eyes filled with dread and pain for a good man lost.

  They kept retreating with the bats guarding them, and yet another breach appeared. An awful blue vampire growled and spit at them, his fangs fully out.

  He then said, “You cannot c
heat death; who’s next?”

  Tatijana drove her dagger’s tip directly into his forehead and the thing tumbled away as more bats flew in, reforming the hole.

  It was light outside, the sun still out. They had finally reached the doors.

  Van Helsing called for all to follow the open space and exit the fallen church. “Go now; everyone run for your lives.” He beckoned as the others joined him darting from the exit fully.

  Tatijana knew it was the right thing to do, but wanted to stay. She then thought, a child? She had not even realized she was pregnant. She took one last look down the hall where her supposed father was and turned to join the others.

  The vampires within did not follow them outside.

  Drakko Del Rothchild was nowhere to be seen.

  The loss of Marco was hard to accept. Heads hung low, yet in truth they were lucky to survive such a foul encounter.

  Oliver was the worst. His brother was gone, and he was unable to bless his soul to Allah. Paublo went to him and gave him a much needed hug.

  From the Journal of Drakko Del Rothchild

  She is all of me. I see her standing proud and regal, it astonishes me. HOW DO I GIVE UNTO HER MY LOVE WITH SUCH RESULTS SO WICKED? I ponder it, lost in never-ending thought.

  Love is a fog

  Made up of the moments that take our breath away

  Fumes of sighs, those for taking a chance on love

  It is worth it every day

  Chapter 15

  A discussion was at hand once the adventurers got fairly far away from the place. No one asked Tatijana anything yet; it was coming.

  Van Helsing had heard of the Crim, yet he only knew so much. “Through my circle and family’s long history of research,” he now explained, “they’re an organization set on restoring the great creator of their kin.”