Issue Number Seventeen
"Dracula Untombed" Part Three
Written by Barry Reese

What Has Come Before: The Daywalker known as Blade has finally returned to his senses after wandering aimlessly for months. Once again allied with Whistler's forces, Blade has learned that an old friend -- Bible John Carik -- has turned against him, following an ancient prophecy that predicts that Blade himself will lead to a new, more powerful race of vampire. Meanwhile, Frank Drake has been cured of his vampirism and is working with Dracula's wife and daughter to stop the Lord of Vampires from gaining ultimate dominion over the undead....

Paris, France -- Lair of the Archivists

For centuries it had remained hidden, buried deep beneath the city streets of Paris. Only a few dozen vampires at any given time were aware of its existence and purpose. Here lay the history of the Vampyre, compiled in scrolls and large, leather-bound volumes. It was the history of the undead, lovingly pieced together by the more studious of their kind.

And it was about to be burned.

The attack came sudden and unannounced. At the forefront of the raiding party was Blade, the Vampire Hunter. He brandished a sword in each hand, attacking the vampire scribes with a ferocity that frightened even his companions, who were hardened by having survived countless battles in the past. Mosha and Mikado, twin killers, had his back, while Hannibal King arrived in a mist. As he solidified to a more solid form, a few dozen rats skittered about his heels, having been summoned by his undead powers.

The first fire broke out in the Medieval Studies Room, where an overturned candle turned an illuminated manuscript into nothing more than kindling. The flames spread quickly and ravenously, feeding upon the tattered papers like a vampire tearing into their prey.

The scribes screamed, not for their own lives but for the horrible destruction of their life's work. One of them, named Tobias, locked himself in one of the libraries, bolting the door. "No," he whispered, looking about madly. He had been here at the Archives for nearly 90 years and had personally worked on more priceless volumes than he could count. He no longer smelled the dust or the decay of crumbling papers, for they were soaked into his own skin. They masked his own scent and claimed him as their own. He loved it here, more than he had ever loved anything during his natural life.

He jumped as a sword burst through the heavy oak door. He moved behind a large table that was overflowing with books and manuscripts, wrapping his arms protectively around it. When he spoke, his teeth -- elongated and sharp -- flashed into view. "Go away! This isn't a place for this! This is a house of knowledge!"

A booted foot shattered the remainder of the door and a tall figure clad in leather stepped past the jagged remains of wood. It was Blade and his fighting togs were stained bright red with the blood of his enemies. "Knowledge, huh? Is that what you call it? Looks like a damned museum to the glory of the bloodsucker to me." Blade slashed out with his sword, cutting a tapestry in two. The finely woven image of a man standing amidst a sea of blood was ruined forever.

"You bastard!" Tobias screamed, forgetting his surprise that the man spoke perfect French. "That tapestry hung on the walls of Castle Dracula for nearly two centuries!"

Blade glanced down at the artwork and grimaced. "That thing belonged to Dracula?"

"Yes," Tobias replied, hoping that he'd finally managed to reach this ignorant savage. "We have so much more, as well. Priceless artifacts of our past...Of your past. It is our secret history."

Blade reached up and slowly pulled away the dark glasses that hid his eyes. He looked at Tobias with an inscrutable expression. "You think I'm one of you, is that it? You think that I sleep all day and crawl out of a stinking coffin at night? You couldn't be more wrong, bloodsucker. I hate things like you."

"But all of this knowledge," Tobias wailed. "Please don't let it be destroyed." His eyes widened as flame appeared at Blade's back, evidence of the inferno that the archives were turning into. "Kill me if you must. Kill us all. But protect the books!"

Blade watched as the vampire sank to his knees, blood tears streaking down his cheeks. "You know L'Engle?"

Tobias ceased his blubbering. He nodded quickly. "Yes! You're seeking him?"

Blade pulled the vampire to his feet, holding him by his collar. "C'mon. If you're lucky, I'll let you keep a scroll or two." He turned quickly, dragging Tobias behind him. The archive stank of blood and fire, with thick black clouds beginning to fill the air. Blade heard Tobias cringing behind him, but he ignored it. They'd have to leave here soon, but he wanted his answers before they went. "Whistler! I got a vamp who's ready to talk."

The aged hunter known as Whistler stood in the entrance to the archives, leaning heavily on a walking stick. He looked bitter and angry. "Damnit, Blade. I told you to leave this information intact. We could have used it!"

"Use it to roast some marshmallows, old man. That's all it's good for." Blade threw Tobias at Whistler's feet and moved to quickly place his sword at the vampire's throat. "So. Tell us where we can find L'Engle. And whether or not he was alone when he left here."

Tobias swallowed before speaking. His eyes looked up beseechingly at Whistler. "L'Engle left for America two days ago. He had a Cathari with him, but I don't know his name."

"Bible John," Blade hissed. "That crazy bastard's done just what Franky said he'd do. He sold me out."

"Give it a rest, Blade. We don't know what's going on here. For all we know, L'Engle's vamped John and is forcing him to do this." Whistler looked around at the spreading flames and sighed. "You agreed to follow me, isn't that right, Blade?"

"Yeah." Blade frowned. "What about it?"

"I want you to round up the twins and Hannibal. Put out these fires and bring everything that can be saved to me." Shaking his head, the old man turned and began to hobble away.

"What about the bloodsucker?" 

Whistler paused. He didn't turn around because he didn't want to see the fear in the vampire's eyes. Sometimes it was so easy... but sometimes the enemy wasn't dripping with the blood of some fresh kill. Sometimes they almost seemed like a normal person, frightened and not wanting to die. He thought of Hannibal and the hypocrisy of it all.  There was one vampire that Whistler allowed to live. Hell, he liked King. But King doesn't drink human blood, he thought. He's not the ones who stole my family from me. The ones who see us as food... How can I let them live? "How do you get by?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at Tobias. "What do you feed on?"

The vampire's lower lip trembled. "Blood, of course... What else could I....?"

"He wants to know if you feed on people. Or animals," Blade explained. He knew what Whistler was driving at and felt the same confusion. He hated this. Hated thinking about the morality of his actions. It was so much easier just to do. 

"People," Tobias admitted. "But I only do what I have to to survive...."

"Yes. That's what I do, too." He nodded once at Blade and turned away so he wouldn't to watch what came next.

Lilith sat in the small, dark booth and watched the cafe crowd come and go. For the most part, they were young and trendy -- and, ironically enough -- Lilith fit in perfectly with them. If they had known the truth, that her spirit was ancient beyond measure and that she survived off the blood of the living, they would have scarcely believed it. All they would see was that Lilith was a beautiful young in her late 20s, with a tendency toward Gothic clothing. Good thing that black usually stays in fashion, she thought to herself. 

"Lilith?" 

She looked up and felt a flush come to her cheeks. She wasn't sure exactly why, as they had long since ended their relationship, but she felt like a schoolgirl who had just run into her first crush while shopping at the mall. "Hi, Martin. Have a seat."

Martin Gold sat down across from her, his eyes shining brightly. His beard was trimmed neatly and he wore a dark suit that flattered him tremendously. Years ago, he'd been Lilith's common-law husband. They'd shared some great times together... and some not-so-great, too. The last she'd heard he was writing for Cruel Fate magazine, offering up exposes on the occult. "You look great," he said and she sensed that he meant it.

"Thanks. I was really surprised to see your ad in the paper."

Martin laughed, embarrassed. "I didn't know how to reach you. So I figured "ad in the USA Today... everybody reads that."

Lilith nodded, smiling. The moment of silence stretched into something close to discomfort and she decided to further break the ice by saying "So... Why the meeting? I mean, I'm glad to see you but I thought you were seeing someone else now."

"I was. But it didn't work out." Martin waved off a waitress who started to approach. He looked at her and licked his lips. It was obvious that he was having second thoughts. "Something's happened to me. Something big."

Lilith suddenly felt like she understood. "You need help with something supernatural," she said, not sure if she was feeling relief or regret. Maybe both, she mused. I still have feelings for him but I can't afford the hassles of a relationship right now.

Martin's quick laugh surprised her. "Yeah. You could say that." He reached out a hand and placed it over hers. It was cold and damp from the rain outside. "Would you mind walking with me someplace more private. I don't want anyone accidentally overhearing. Might freak them out."

Within moments, the two of them were walking outside, huddled close beneath Martin's umbrella. She could smell his familiar cologne and was oddly pleased to see that he still used the same brand. "So what's up?" she asked, reaching up to brush a strand of brown hair behind an ear.

"Have you ever seen one of these?" he asked, pulled something out from the neck of his shirt. It was a medallion with a demon's head carved on it. A single drop of red paint adorned the middle of the medallion.

"No... Can't say that I have. But I have a friend named Jericho Drumm who might be able to identify it for you."

"No need," Martin said, looking away. "I know what it does. It's called a Demon's Charm and it hides a vampire's true form from those who can sense it."

"Neat trick," Lilith said. The two of them had wandered towards a park now, one inhabited only by one homeless person who lay on a bench, his features hidden beneath a ratty blanket. "Where did you get it?"

"About three months ago, I was investigating a cult down in Florida. Another branch of the Legion of the Damned. You know they're always popping up just when you think they've gone bust." Martin cleared his throat and licked his lips again. "I tried to infiltrate one of their meetings, figured I'd snap a few pics of them summoning up some minor demon, having an orgy, you know...."

Lilith stopped beneath a large tree, noticing that the rain was beginning to fall harder... and a fog was beginning to roll in from nowhere. Her nerves were on edge now and she sensed that something was very wrong. "Martin, what's wrong? No more games."

Martin looked into her eyes and she desperation there. "They caught me. They... they changed me."

Lilith's eyes flickered back to the Demon's Charm and she began backing away. She recognized it now... the signs of hunger, the look of desire. It wasn't nervousness nor was it excitement at seeing her. "You're a vampire," she whispered, feeling extreme guilt. She'd led him to this, as surely as if she'd taken him herself. She stumbled back into the rain, with the fog so thick now that you could cut it with a knife...

And fell straight into the arms of her father.

Dracula wrapped his hands about her, holding her tightly. "Cease your struggles, child. They're quite useless."

Lilith responded by driving a foot backwards with incredible strength. The blow would have torn the limbs off a normal man, but her father was anything but normal. He was the strongest vampire who had ever lived and he used that strength to great effectiveness. Squeezing her until her insides felt like bursting, Dracula brought his open mouth closer to her and bit down into the soft flesh of her neck.

They spun about, father and daughter, locked in an unholy embrace. Dracula felt the rush of pleasure and desire wash over him and he felt her sag into his grip in reply. She could not fight this intensely personal act, she could not resist him... He felt a longing for her as a woman and drew himself away with the greatest of effort. His lips were stained red as she said "You are mine to do with as I please... and perhaps you will finally give your father the gifts that he's always deserved. True power!"

Martin Gold looked away, not wanting to see his former lover in this state. He hated to betray her, but he was Dracula's now... body and soul.

Had Martin not been so distracted, he might have noticed that the homeless person was no longer lying on the bench....

"They've got her, Domini." Frank Drake walked quickly away from the scene of Lilith's abduction, speaking into a handhold phone. "I still think this is the worst damned idea I've ever heard."

Many miles away, the woman who had once wed the Lord of Vampires, let out a worried sigh. "I have my doubts myself... but this was Lilith's idea. And it has merit, you must admit. We just have to make sure that we move quickly. Is the device working properly?"

Frank looked down at the device mounted on his wrist. "Perfectly. I can track their every move with this. And unless they go looking for sub-dermal implants, they won't suspect a thing. Get Blade and his buddies on the horn. We need to follow Dracula to his lair before he can begin the ceremony."

Frank didn't need to see Domini to hear how his words affected her. Dracula needed two blood relatives to commence his ceremony -- and he already held the son he shared with Domini. With Lilith, he now had all that he required. "Believe me, Frank... I know how badly we need to act quickly."

L'Engle stepped into the Cathari's storehouse of knowledge and smiled broadly. The Chiaroscuro was famed even to those of the Paris Archives and L'Engle could see that its legend only scarcely did it justice. "Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful," he said, running a hand down the side of a glass containing a battered set of Puritan clothing. "Solomon Kane's?"

"Yes," Bible John replied, watching his companion explore the room. "It was quite a find a few years ago. His bloodline is still running strong, too. You wouldn't believe who his descendants are."

The vampire smiled. "I'm sure it's fascinating." He turned back to the sigil-covered Cathari and said "Having any second thoughts yet?"

"About tracking down a friend and killing him? Yeah. A few," Bible John said. "Look, Blade's tough. I don't care how old and powerful you think you are... Or how much weaponry we've got stored in this place. He always win in the end. Always."

"The prophecy is quite clear, John. He and Domini are slated to become lovers and someone -- most likely her -- will eventually bear him children. A new race of vampire, born without the vulnerabilities of the old. Knowing that should give you the strength to realize that this time, Blade cannot be allowed to win."

Whistler's Lair

The notes flowed out of the instrument like water, wafting their way throughout the lair that Blade shared with his fellow vampire hunters. He'd long since closed his eyes and given himself over to the feelings that the music brought to him, that in turn fed back into the music. 

It'd been a long, long time since Blade had let himself go like this.

"Jazz and fighting are both pretty much the same," his old instructor had told him. "You know how you wanna start and you have a pretty good idea how you want it all to end up, but in between... in between, you gotta go with the flow."

When he finally lowered the trumpet from his lips, he heard scattered applause throughout the structure, making him smile. He knew that many of them were almost -- almost -- as driven as him. They needed to be taken away from the day-to-day horror as much as he did.

"I had no idea you were so good with that thing."

Blade opened his eyes to see one of his oldest friends, Hannibal King, perched in a chair nearby. "Didn't hear you come in."

"You wouldn't have heard Dracula himself come in. You were gone for a few minutes there."

Blade didn't reply, but instead began the task of cleaning up his instrument and packing it away. He did it slowly and deliberately, the same way he handled his swords and knives. He glanced over at Hannibal, seeing the handsome features, the windswept hair and the pained eyes. Good old Hannibal, he thought to himself and was surprised at the force of his emotion. Seeing Frank Drake cured had really helped crystallize things for him. He belonged here, with these people. They were... friends. "Heard from Franky yet?"

"Domini called for him. She said that Lilith went to a meeting with her old beau and was jumped by her father."

"Martin's a vampire now?"

"Looks that way." Hannibal shifted slightly. "Frank says he doesn't think he can cure me the way he did himself."

Blade nodded. "Yeah. I know. Same for me."

Hannibal rose quickly, crossing the distance between them in seconds. "When Dracula's dead... I want to ask you to do me a favor."

"What's that?"

"I want you to kill me."

"Go to hell," Blade hissed. "I ain't killing you."

"I'm all ready in hell... Look, I don't want to be like this anymore. I'm not human. You cut my leg off, Blade -- but it's grown back. That's not natural.&"

"What? You want me to keep cuttin' it off so you don't have unnatural for it growing back?" Blade stared hard at his friend. "You got some nerve asking that. You think I like being a damned bloodsucker? Hell no! But Morbius made me one. Now I'm like those bastards who killed my momma and have to kill me since the day I was born. But I ain't quitting, Hannibal. Not 'til every last one of the vamps is dead."

"Including me?"

Blade sighed, relaxing somewhat. "I need you, man. You and Frank both. Without you... I go a little crazy."

"You are crazy."

"All right, crazier." Blade put a hand on Hannibal's shoulder. "Stick with me. If we do win this thing and wipe 'em out someday, I'll do you and you can do me in return. We'll go out together."

Hannibal smiled ruefully. "What are friends for, eh?"

"You got that right." Blade walked over to his closet, opening it to reveal a large cache of weapons. He began pulling out light-emitting grenades, small wooden daggers and some things that Hannibal couldn't identify. "How many times have we killed Dracula, Hannibal? Too many to count, right?"

"Unfortunately."

"Maybe that's our mistake. Maybe we shouldn't bother staking him and leaving his bones out for the vultures to find. Maybe we ought to capture him this time, cut his head off and scatter his body parts all over the place, in Whistler's safe houses. That way he's out of the picture but we can keep tabs on him."

"Wouldn't work. Hell, we've seen his body disintegrated and his spirit's come back before. All we can do is hope that this is the final time." Hannibal ran a hand through his long hair. "But I guess your idea's worth trying. Can't work out any worse than before."

Lilith came to, finding herself lying naked on a stone slab. She started to rise, only to find that her wrists and throat were bound tightly by chains that dug into her flesh. She heard a steady dripping sound nearby but could see nothing in the fog-enshrouded gloom. A faint bit of moonlight shone in through a grate high above her. "Father...?"

"I am here, my daughter." Dracula's face appeared through the fog, grinning lecherously. "You have certainly grown into a mature young woman."

Lilith bared her fangs. "Have you hurt Janus? If you have, I'll--"

"There is nothing you can do, little Lilith. You have always been a thorn in my side, just like your useless mother was. And now you think that allying yourself with Domini will help you? She was of good heart and pure intentions... and yet look at what you have led her to! Striking against me!"

"You were the one who helped pervert her, father. All I've done is help her find her dignity... and for her, this has less to do with you and everything to do with the son you've stolen!"

"He is my son as well!" Dracula's voice boomed out at her, echoing in the dank chamber. Lilith could hear bats moving in the shadows, their leathery wings flapping. 

"But you're willing to kill him just to satisfy some spell? Very fatherly."

Dracula stepped forward, towering over her. "Ah, yes. The spell that will give me dominion over all the creatures of the night. You know, then, that I needed the blood of direct descendants in order for this to work?"

"I know all about your plan... but it won't work."

Dracula smiled, showing his sharp fangs. "Truly, you are as stupid as your mother! I knew what you and Domini would think when you heard about the prophecy... Do you think any mistake on my part that word of my plans reached you? You assumed I would need to slay Janus and one other, did you not? But all I needed was the blood of my descendants, not their lives."

Lilith tried to hide her shock. She had expected some sort of vainglorious ceremony, the way her father always did. She had assumed... her eyes flickered down to her bound wrists. There were wounds there, wounds where needles -- or teeth? -- had drawn blood. "No."

Shuffling all around her made her look up. A series of grunts and growls made the hair on her arms stand on end, and she watched as a shambling army of the undead moved up behind her father. She was a werewolf growing and slavering over his left shoulder while a resurrected corpse missing part of its skull lumbered over his right. And there were others, too... stinking and vile. But it was her father's voice that chilled her the most. "The spell is done, my daughter! No longer am I the Lord of Vampires -- Now I am the Lord of the Night!" He raised his hands skyward, and a long spark of lightning illuminated the sky. "So let your allies come to me -- so that I may slaughter them and begin my true reign of power!"

Next Issue: "Dracula Untombed" comes to a terrifying conclusion as Whistler's crew confronts the new, more powerful Dracula! 

From the Vault

This is a bit of an odd series for me because the main character and his allies are not the nicest of people. For instance, being a librarian myself, I felt a great deal of sympathy for the character of Tobias in our opening scene. And yet I can also see the reasons behind Blade's single-mindedness. Hopefully in the days to come we'll be able to see some of Blade's softer side, as I hope to introduce a love interest for him and play up the character's musical background.

Next issue will also spawn our first spin-off series. What will it be? Nightstalkers? Tomb of Dracula? Lilith and Friends? You gotta stay tuned to find out.

See you all next issue!

Barry Reese