The Dark Dimension…

Lilith walked the darkness.

She had never felt so alone, so out of place. There was so much solitude here in the Dark Dimension that she found it hard to go on. It would have been so easy to simply stop, to quit and allow things to happen as they were meant to. That would mean of course that her father had won, and that she had given up and that was something that she would never do.

She sensed the creatures not so far away, the mindless ones battering at some unseen shield, striving for freedom. They were all strength and power, but their ultimate goals were not so terribly different from her own. They wished to be free, and so did she.

There were others of course, not so mindless but just as driven. The monstrosities on this side of the shield gave her wide berth though why exactly she could not imagine. They were animals, things that had sprung forth from the darkness and gained sentience of a sort. They were creatures regardless, watching her warily as she stalked their realm looking for an exit, leaving her to her fate. Of that she was glad.

There was one other, two, though the second was lost to her. The Shadow Woman was a part of the Dark Dimension now, her meager abilities just enough to merge her totally with that foul place from where she stole her powers. Lilith could hear the woman screaming as her soul was torn slowly apart. She did not care, her attention focused on the one that did not belong…

She found Jerome there huddled against the cold, his body swathed in darkness and coated with frost. He was shivering from the cold and fear looking altogether like the boy that he was. He glanced up to see her approach, trying to speak in spite of his anxieties-

“W-w-w- who are- you? D- Death? D- D- Death’s a f- fly white b- b- bitch inna c- comics…”

Lilith smiled, crouching beside the boy with his knees drawn up to his chest, his body wracked with the light of knowledge, his sins washing over him-

“I am salvation, boy,” she said as she leaned in close, bearing her fangs. She was death in form, but was salvation in truth, though not for Jerome Jackson. He screamed as her teeth pierced the dark skin of his throat and blood gushed forth. He was fodder. Her father, scum that he was, had called that right.

Lilith drank…

BLOOD AND THUNDER!

By Curtis Fernlund

NOTE: This series takes place prior to the events of West Coast Avengers #1

Manhattan:
The Lower East Side

Dracula smiled as his Children charged forward, the Children of the Night. They were a gangly lot, all arms and legs as they struggled through the winds and lightning, coming closer through the waning storm. They were quick though, draped in darkness and shining silver steel, claws scratching and sparking the broken stone of the street as they ran scrambling towards him. He saw the stone, the housing for the ring gripped tightly in the hands of one. It was glowing a sickly blue green, the inner fires burning through the casing and sigils designed to contain it. It was almost over. The Ring of Yrrdsdral was almost in his grasp.

Almost…

Dracula suddenly paled, staggering ever so slightly as the darkness thinned and wavered. Something had happened, some weakening within that he had not been expecting. He had been bloated by power, his hunger quenched by the blinding light of the girl, Dagger, as well as the souls of the Nigger boy and the Shadow Woman. His command of the storm and vermin, his undead minions and even the slight fatigue of battle with Drake and the rest of his sheep had did little to weaken him. But this-

He knew in an instant what it must be. That one soulless creature that he had swallowed into the dark with his Cloak of Shadows; that one thing that he had never been able to control. It was Lilith- his daughter and curse, his bane. She was there trapped within the Dark Dimension, powerless to escape but still managing to aggravate him, to daunt him in his moment of glory and retribution.

Dracula cursed, spitting her name as he found the inner strength to ignore whatever she had done within. It was the slightest paling of his power, more unexpected than crippling, but he knew that Drake and the others would have seen him falter and attack within instants. He willed the darkness to swirling again, his body fading within the writhing shadow even as an arrow raced through his form. He winced more from shock than pain, old memories rising to the fore. He knew however that he was untouched as he cast his gaze once more at his false children, still driving forward through the carnage. He smiled.

Almost…

Marlene cursed, spitting as she drew another quarrel of white thorn wood from her quiver. She had seen the vaunted Lord of the Undead pale and stagger as though weakened somehow. Why she did not know or care. She had seen her chance and taken the shot, her crossbow bolt flying swift and true towards that dark hole where his heart should have been.

He had shifted to mist, to shadow at the last second, regaining control and composure and the bolt had missed its mark. The moment had passed, but she knew there would be another. She drew back on the crank, drawing the heavy cord of the bow with all her strength and quickly locking it into place with a grunt. The crossbow had enough force behind it to punch through a brick wall, the arrowhead of sharpened silver just enough to pierce unholy flesh. The pure and blessed wood would kill anything real or imagined- she had covered all the bases. That strange voice forever in the back of her mind telling her just what to do.

Marlene locked the shaft into place and brought the bow level again, chancing a quick glance about at the other players on the field. The so-called super-heroes were doing little so far, though she knew really that some of them had been battling the Dark Lord for awhile before she and the Shock Troop had arrived on scene.

The little white girl was still down, though Marlene could see her stirring. Her name was Dagger she recalled, and was somehow connected to the withered husk of a boy laying near Dracula’s feet. He had probably been Cloak Marlene thought, putting two and two together as she stared at the swirling cape of shadow that the Vampire Lord now wore. They were apparently useless-

As useless as the man in the purple kevlar armor. He looked as though he had been in a fight however, his bodysuit ripped and charred and spattered with blood dripping flesh. He had a gun and was aiming at Dracula as well, but so far he had yet to fire it. Paladin she thought?

The old black man with the gray dreads she had no idea. He had the look of a mage about him, but he looked weak and barely able to stay on his feet. Marlene could sense the high psyche he was emitting whether he knew it or not and it drew her attention like a moth to a flame. A mage then, or a mentalist at least.

She saw Skully shaking his head and struggling to his feet. His body was glowing even brighter than usual as he tried to shrug off the after effects of the lightning bolt that had seared through him and driven him down. He was a strong one thanks to that odd, alien belt permanently grafted to him and attached to his waist. It was changing him slowly, turning him into something; making his skin translucent but also impervious with a shimmering force field. As such he was ugly as sin, taking on the name of the Blazing Skull to match his hideous face-

No uglier than N’Kantu, the Living Mummy however. The tall man was just what he appeared to be, an Egyptian Prince betrayed and mummified in his time, now walking undead through today seeking redemption and a one way ticket to ever-lasting peace. He looked like he had just stepped out of an old Hammer movie from the Sixties, swathed in filthy gray bandages and limping along. He was strong though, and most of the queer shit they had encountered over the months since Doctor Druid had first formed the Shock Troop had done little against him.

Druid was long gone of course, replaced by Lilith, the alleged Daughter of Dracula. Marlene seemed to recall things, things that other sweet voice in the back of her head whispered and she knew that it was true. Lilith had been a boon to the Shock Troop- even as she herself had with her psychic abilities, leading them all on missions that would eventually bring them closer to that one goal the two women shared. Dracula!

Lilith was gone now however, sucked into the darkness just like poor Jillian, the Shadow Woman. She had seemed a good bet to counter whatever Dracula was doing with that cloak. Her own powers seemed to mimic his in a way; her own shadow form being all too similar to Dracula’s creeping darkness. She had been too weak though- she and Lilith both as Dracula had swallowed them whole.

The blink of memories flitted away as Marlene’s attention was drawn once more to the other purpose of her joining the Shock Troop. Frank Drake had stepped forward again, his short, sawed-off shotgun raised and leveled to Dracula’s heart. She had been watching him out of the corner of her eye, still keeping a bead on the Undead Lord as well, and she had fired just a split second before Drake had been able to react. Poor Frank, slow again.

Marlene Drake stifled a cold chuckle at her little, private joke, watching as the two detective women flanked her estranged husband. The Daughters of the Dragon; Misty Knight and Colleen Wing were apparently good at what they did, but so far they had been as ineffectual against the Vampire as the rest of the heroes. Knight with her big guns seemed to know it, but kept trying, emptying clip after clip, speed loading an unending supply of bullets into her magnums. Wing had her sword at the ready, but she seemed more worried about defending Frank than charging into battle. Bitch! Marlene had seen what had passed between the two, or at least from Wing. Frank as always only had eyes for one woman. Rachel Van Helsing…

“Stop them!”

Marlene snapped to to hear a weak shout over the perpetual noise. Sirens wailed in the distance and flames crackled ever closer. Water sprayed noisily from a nearby hydrant that Knight had slammed her stolen truck into upon their arrival. There were dying moans and cries of terror continually rising up from those that had been caught in the initial battle, victims of the smoldering Undead littering the street. Still she heard that one voice rising above the dying whistle of wind, the last remnants of the waning storm-

“There!” She turned and saw the black man pointing towards Dracula- No, past him. She strained, peering through the swirling gloom, leaning forward to see what new threat-

“Stop them!”

She saw N’Kantu already shambling in that direction, moving to head off the three gangly dark forms that were flitting and springing over the rubble strewn street. That they were minions of Dracula there was no doubt; they had that sickly evil look about them that all the Undead wore. What they were however, and their purpose she hadn’t a clue. One seemed to be carrying something though, his silver-clawed fist glowing a murky pale blue. They were moving quickly. Too fast for the Mummy Marlene could easily see. She had to-

Knight and Wing charged forward in unison, moving lithely over the debris. Marlene could see that they had trained together, each keeping pace with the other, theirs moves smooth and complimenting their team. Misty Knight was firing her guns at the three small men, and Marlene could see that even with their speed almost every bullet was finding its mark. They were wearing some type of armor however, and they were apparently more than they appeared as each slug slammed home and made them stagger but none pierced nor did they fall. Vampires then, no doubt.

Marlene saw the first creature spring casually over N’Kantu, drawing the Mummy’s attention as the other two darted right and left about the slow-moving brute. Surprisingly however as the Living Mummy raised his hand to grab at the first, he suddenly whipped it back down again and snagged the long, billowing cape of the second as gravity aided his efforts. The little creature gagged as he was hauled up short, the much taller Mummy easily hefting his catch into the air as the third scrambled past.

The spindly little beast in the Mummy’s grasp hissed and kicked, the claws on his feet ripping at N’Kantu’s decaying form. Marlene saw ribbons of cloth shred away with graying, mottled flesh. N’Kantu seemed oblivious however as he drew the creature in, his other hand closing about its neck. Marlene heard the snap of bone even from so far away, but even though it shuddered and spasmed the tiny Vampire still struggled, undead and not dying.

Even as Marlene raised her crossbow to kill the Vampire she saw that Wing was there. Without hesitation Colleen Wing swept her Katana in a smooth wide arch, the slim blade easily slicing through the creature’s trapped neck. The body jerked again and the black fencing helmet simply tumbled from the thing’s shoulders, bouncing away in the rubble. N’Kantu stared at the lifeless form in its grip for a long moment, then turned to Wing. The woman smirked, saying something Marlene could not hear and flicked her sword in a wide circle to clean away the creature’s filth from the blade. N’Kantu simply dropped the body and turned, slowly shambling back, Wing charging ahead.

The other two creatures had paused, apparently disturbed at the sudden demise of their third. Marlene saw her opportunity again, sliding her crossbow towards the closer of the two and gasped as a thick, muscular arm suddenly swooped down out of the sky, a huge gray hammer smashing through the gangly black body. The creature exploded in a burst of blood and gore, sickly green flesh spraying the area like a shrapnel grenade. Marlene gagged at the foul stench that enveloped her, wash from the back draft of the great hammer. The Uru hammer Mjolnir, weapon of the mighty Thor!

Marlene had totally forgotten the Thunder God as he had remained aloof and above, dealing with the last remnants of the raging storm that Dracula had unleashed. That storm had all but died now however, and the leader of the Avengers had finally deigned to enter the fray. Marlene watched in awe as the Lord of Storms simply swooped and adjusted his mass, never falling or faltering as he started swinging his mighty mallet once again to keep him aloft. He met her gaze briefly, his steely blue gaze fierce and piercing as he offered the slightest smile of reassurance. Then he turned his attention back on Dracula-

“Thy dark minions falter and fall, villain,” he said, his voice booming, “come and face thy true opponent, if you dare!”

Marlene returned her gaze to the Vampire Lord, but he was ignoring the Avenger, his own attention focused on the last of his minions. It was the one that carried the stone of course. Marlene raised her crossbow again and fired-

The purple-clad hero, Paladin came flying off from the side, slamming into the creature, the two of them sprawling into the street. Marlene’s bolt flew off into the darkness, thudding unseen into a wall as she cursed-

“I owe you this, bitch,” Paladin shouted as he hammered his fist over and over again into the helmet of the squirming beast underneath him. Marlene could hear the creature spitting and hissing as it struggled, one hand still clutching the rock as it clawed and kicked at the man atop him. Paladin seemed to ignore the deep gashes as the creature’s claws dug deep, slamming his gauntleted fist into the little Vampire’s helm, denting it. It flew off finally after a mighty backhand blow and Marlene heard the hero gasp.

She glanced at the creature’s exposed face as she pulled the crossbow crank, readying it for another bolt. The Vampire had sickly green skin, mottled and foul, but even from a distance and through the murk of Dracula’s writhing shadows she could see the pudginess of cheek and huge round eyes-

“It’s a kid…” Paladin gasped and the creature shrieked, its empty hand reaching up and slashing the hero across his chin and mouth. Paladin howled in agony, falling sideways and off of the child with the force of the blow, a swath of blood spewing forth from the ragged wound. Marlene cursed again, fumbling for a bolt as she heard the others rushing forward; Skully, the Dagger girl, the mage bringing up the rear far behind.

The child-creature rose, springing forward even as Marlene locked the quarrel into place. She saw Wing and Knight racing back, N’Kantu far and behind. Thor was adjusting his spinning hammer again, readying a throw. Paladin was rolling in the dirt clutching his face. It was up to her-

Marlene screamed as something exploded just behind her. The noise was deafening as she grabbed at her ears, wincing and still trying to see. The creature’s chest seemed to explode as well, something ripping through the armor and piercing the flesh beneath, setting it ablaze. The child screamed, its foul face all too suddenly young and human as the pain of final death washed over it. Still it staggered forward, its legs churning on momentum alone as it stumbled ablaze. It reached out, wide eyes pleading, the glowing rock still in its grip…

Frank Drake cursed as he plucked the burning shell casings from his sawed-off. He ignored the burn, fuming himself that two barrels had barely slowed the little freak down. It was still stumbling forward with the glowing stone, and worse, Dracula was ignoring them all as he swept forward to receive it. Whatever that rock was, Drake knew it was the key; the final element that his ancestor needed to bring his plans to fruition. Drake reached into the deep pocket of his long coat and withdrew two more shells as he charged forward.

He brushed past Marlene, ignoring her, Dracula taking up his field of vision and total attention. He watched as his ancestor faded in and out, the shadows swirling, reaching forward to engulf the little boy turned Vampire. It was a hideous, horrendous thing to do, but Dracula had used children against them before. He had no shame, no regret as long as he achieved his goals. He fumbled the shells into the gun casing, snapping the frame back into place as he leveled, aiming…

Drake fired, his shells spewing white thorn wood buck soaked in Holy Water. The twin blasts burst through Dracula, passing freely through the shadow as he figured. Dracula was little more than a shadowy mist, but drake still saw his ancestor wince from the burning thorn wood, the blessed buck. The spray hit the child however- his true target, as Dracula had simply moved in the way.

The boy’s face exploded in a blaze, blood and flesh erupting in a sizzling cloud. He didn’t even have time to scream as the creature’s head burst leaving the jagged, gaping skull free of all but the final remains of burning mottled flesh. The body however staggered forward still, caught up by its last command, momentum driving it on. Dracula reached out, his own massive hand enveloping the child’s smaller fist, grasping the stone held within. The Lord of the Vampires laughed as he ripped the stone from the child’s faltering grip. The faceless body collapsed, smoldering beside the withered husk that had been Tyrone Johnson, but Dracula did not seem to notice or care. He had won…

Eric Arcane staggered forward feeling tired, ancient. His body ached and screamed in protest as he simply tried to walk. His heart hammered in his chest, sweat pouring freely down his face and back. Still he struggled forward, wincing and gritting his teeth against the pain of arthritis and heart disease, simple senility. The spells were escaping him.

He strained to see what was happening, everything just a blur in the distance. He had lost sight of Paladin to the fog of his vision quickly, the mercenary apologizing for leaving him alone as he had charged off to battle. Arcane had shivered to hear the man’s screams. Dagger had left him too, and she was now a glowing spark dancing about at the edge of his sight. He stumbled on, breathing harder with every step.

He could see the swirling darkness that had to be Dracula, shadows flitting about him- the others. There was a crackling light overhead, no doubt the Thunder God, Thor. Arcane wondered why the Avenger was not attacking, then figured that he feared for the lesser mortals in the way. Too, he could see the glow of the Sorcerer’s Stone in Dracula’s grasp, pulsing with that sickly green hue. Arcane’s heart ached at that blurry sight, knowing that if Dracula’s minions had delivered him the stone that they had gotten it from his apartment-

“Alex…” he whimpered, shuffling forward as a pain stabbed through his heart. He staggered, clutching at his chest as his breath locked in his throat. His vision started to waver and blur, fading to gray as his head threatened to explode from some inner pressure-

“You okay, pal?”

Arcane felt the hand on his shoulder, barely, and knew what he had to do. His brain was spinning as he fought for another breath, his legs threatening to fold beneath him. He tried to focus, searching for the word, a final spell dancing on the tip of his tongue-

“Traducere!”

Arcane reached up, grabbing the Blazing Skull’s hand of support as he whispered the Word of Power. He heard the Skull’s exclamation as he felt the first tug of the spell drawing away at his inner fire, sucking at his life force. Arcane hoped that the spell would draw from the magical aura that surrounded the big man, tapping into the alien belt of power rather than the man himself, but in the end he would not care. He needed the hero’s energies to continue. He needed the fire within his own soul stoked and rekindled, and with Alex’s life possibly on the line he did not care at all who suffered for it.

The Blazing Skull screamed as Arcane’s grip tightened. He felt the wash of energy seeping into him. He felt the ages slipping off his frame, youth returning as he stole life from the younger, stronger man. His body stood straighter, legs and arms strengthening with vigor. His vision cleared, the swirling, shadowy shapes returning to clarity. His body rose up proudly, no longer weak and sagging, the skin darkening and tightening over his frame. His mind snapped to attention once again.

He released his grip on the Blazing Skull feeling just the slightest remorse for using the man so. He had been trying to help- and in the end he had, though probably not in a way that he had either wanted or expected. The man crumpled to the ground at Arcane’s feet, his body heaving as it struggled to draw breath. He was still glowing, but arcane could see ragged patches of flesh made visible beneath the glow of the flickering force field. Arcane nodded, invigorated and happy that he had sucked at least some of his stolen energies from the alien artifact and not the man himself.

Eric Arcane stalked forward again, boldly striding towards the Dark Lord. He could see Dracula cradling the Stone in the palm of his hands, staring at the rock with a passion. Arcane thought, his mind racing to find the words of a spell to help, his eyes growing wide as the Lord of the Vampires suddenly closed his fist.

There was a burst of energy, a flaming blaze of blue and gold as the Sorcerer’s Stone crumbled to Dracula’s strength. In that instant Arcane knew that he had been fooled. The rock was not the legendary Sorcerer’s Stone, but some form of containment vessel instead. There was something within the rock, held in place by the composition of the stone itself as well as the odd, ancient runes inscribed without. Arcane stared, running forward now, his eyes trying to focus through the pulsing, golden glow…

Dracula smiled widely as the outer casing of the containment shell crumbled in his grasp. He did not know who had encased the ring, nor why, but then too he did not really care. It was his now, in his grasp and he was more than prepared to use it.

He had first learned of the Stone of Yrrdsdral; the Yadzi Gem after the Black Plague had swept through Europe and Asia. The stone itself was believed to be the cause of the pestilence that devastated Europe, and Dracula at the time had thought to use that great power for his own benefit. It was not to be however, and it was centuries later when he first encountered the Gem and the Ring-

Both were in the possession of a fool of a sorcerer named Augustus Ebers. It was he that was trying to gain supremacy and explained the Gem’s origins and powers as he tried to actually overcome Dracula and steal his form. Dracula beat the mage of course, but both Gem and Ring were lost to him. Years later again and Dracula encountered Ebers wife, Florence. She had gained control of the Gem and Ring and had sought to recreate her husband, again taking Dracula’s immortal form in the process. Once more the Lord of Vampires won out, but the Gem itself was shattered and the Ring lost with the dying body of Florence Ebers.

Dracula sought the great power of the Yadzi Ring over the subsequent decades though his attention was diverted by Quincy Harker and his band. Still he had heard the whispered legends of the fantastic stone; how it could make reality out of thought and control the minds of the masses. How it could transport the bearer wherever he might imagine. Legends said that even the Ring, but a fraction of the great Stone itself could open the Gates of Hell-

Or Heaven…

Dracula stared at the pulsating, glowing ring in his hand, his smile widening all the more. He ignored the shouts and taunts of Drake and his chattel. They were beneath him now, the ultimate power at last within his grasp. Dracula took the ring gingerly and slipped it on his finger-

Arcane staggered and fell to his knees as a wave of magical energy washed down the street. He had never felt such a surge of unfettered might, magic run amok and unleashed. He screamed…

Marlene screamed as she felt the psychic surge of power blast forth from Dracula. For just an instant she saw him as he was meant to be; tall and proud, heroic! A king! She dropped to her hands and knees, heaving from the spinning turmoil of her mind as the image wavered and faded to black…

Thor slammed to the ground as a wave of mystical might washed over him. It was like a physical force slamming him down, a great fist akin to the Frost Giants driving him to earth. Truly, he had never felt the like, neither in the magicks of Loki nor in the awe-inspiring Odin Power itself…

A wave of force rolled down the street, all but invisible to the naked eye but felt all the same. It pummeled Paladin, so close to the center, pooling outward and sending the lesser combatants sprawling in its wake. It was like an explosion, knocking all to their feet; Drake and Wing, Knight and Dagger. They all fell to the onslaught of the Yadzi Gem and the will of the Dark Lord…

Dracula stared at the fallen heroes, the might of the Ring of Yrrdsdral having laid them all to waste. Even the godling struggled in the mud and mire at his feet. He was supreme, and with but a thought he might eliminate them all. He raised his hand, making a fist. The ring pulsed, glowed, awaiting the command-

Dracula hesitated…

What if the ring was not powerful enough to wipe away his enemies and still fulfill his fondest wish? What if he spent the power on worthless revenge, throwing away his one, final dream? He could not take the chance. He had the Cloak of Darkness, the Scrolls of the Seraphim and the Ring of Yadzi in his possession. He had to finish what he had started- had to achieve his goals. Time enough later for revenge.

Dracula stared a final glare at his foes as he folded the Shadow Cloak in and about himself. He brought the ring in close too, holding his closed fist to his dead heart. He made a wish…

Frank Drake screamed his rage as his ancestor faded away in a sparkling hail of gold, seemingly from existence. He had seen his ‘uncle’ make the grand escape far too often to even think that he was somehow dead. The Vampire Lord had run, off to see his plans to the end, Frank knew, and he had no idea where that might be.

Drake stood slowly, weak and wobbling on shaky legs as he scanned the battlefield. Oddly the fires had been snuffed out, the ruins of the surrounding buildings and the broken street smoldering lightly. The mist had evaporated as well and the storm clouds had finally moved on revealing a crisp, starry night overhead. He saw his erstwhile companions trying to stand as well and was happy to see Misty and Colleen none the worse for wear. He frowned however to see Marlene in the same state, already fiddling with her crossbow and giving him the evil eye. The Mage was on his feet as well and looking younger than he had, staring west as Thor rose not so far away hefting his hammer. N’Kantu was shambling towards the Blazing Skull who was still on his knees and seemed worse off than any of them save Paladin. The mercenary was still on his back, his face a bloody mess of ripped flesh and bone.

“I need to get back,” he heard the Mage say to no one in particular. “I need to get home.”

“No,” Drake said, willing his legs to propel him forward. “We need to find Dracula and end this, and for that we’re gonna need you I think. You’re not going anywhere-“

The black man spun about at Drake’s words, his eyes crackling with anger but Frank could see the lines of worry etching his face. He seemed about to say something, but thought better of it, glancing to the west again-

“That stone,” he said in a low whisper, his voice ready to crack, “it was in my possession, at my apartment. Those creatures had to have stolen it, and Alex…”

“Who’s Alex?” Colleen Wing asked, sheathing her sword. Her uniform and face was spattered with blood, but she did not seem to notice.

“My boyfriend,” Arcane said, his fists clenching at his side. “If he was home-“

“Say no more, Mage,” Thor said as he stepped forward. “If thy love be in peril then we all shall race at thy side to thine dwelling. Your valor this day deserves no less than our unwavering loyalty. But wait…”

Thor placed his hand on Arcane’s shoulder, using the slightest pressure to turn him slightly as he pointed to the still fallen Paladin. “There is another in our midst deserving of our attention. Be it within thy power to heal yon warrior’s most grievest wounds?”

Arcane stared at the man in the purple armor writhing about on the ground in agony and trying to hold his face together. He blinked as though coming back to reality after a moment, then knelt down beside the man and placed his hands on his new friend’s face. “Of course…”

Sanare!

Everyone stared in awe, gathering around as Paladin’s face seemed to twist and bubble beneath the Mage’s hands. There was the slightest glow, and it seemed that the mercenary’s flesh simply folded and expanded, meshing back together as they watched. Paladin writhed on the ground, but the Mage Arcane held him fast letting his mystical energy flow into the wounds to seal them up and make them whole again.

Within seconds Arcane shifted his weight back onto his heels, sagging slightly from the effort. There were traces of gray in his dread locks again, and his face and hands showed the slightest crease and flab of age. He was breathing heavily as Paladin sat up, his hand wiping at his face, eyes wide-

“Lord, Brother, that’s one fine power to have,” he said, working his jaw and feeling the unscarred flesh of his cheek. Arcane forced a smile, then struggled to stand, Thor finally helping him to his feet.

“Can we go now?” Arcane said, starting to walk away but Thor held him fast as he started spinning his hammer-

“Go we shall, but allow the might of Thor…”

The Thunder God hurled his hammer and leapt, encircling his arm about Arcane’s middle. The Mage yelped but there was little that he could do, carried off under Thor’s momentum. He hung on for dear life.

Drake watched as the Avenger and the Mage arched up and over the tenements and quickly disappeared from sight. He sighed, then hurried forward, running in the general direction they had gone-

“Anyone get the Mage’s address?” he asked, picking up the pace as he received no answer. He cursed, hoping one of them was smart enough to leave a trail that they could follow…

Eurasia:
The Syrian Desert…

Dracula stared at the sun, his eyes watering, burning as he gazed upwards at the unblinking orb. It had been so long. Years actually, since that time that his son had made him human again and he was forced to fend like the chattel. That had not been his choice.

He stood in the shadow of Jabal ad Duruz, the great mountain jutting almost two thousand feet above the vast Syrian Desert. The lesser mountains surrounding that monolith were both chill and blazing hot, the glare of the sun beating down and scalding the land and any that dared step out in its view. Behind him the desert stretched out for miles, golden sands rolling towards the horizon. Before him the lands of the Bible, of Christian Faith. It all meant little to him.

Dracula pulled the Cloak of Shadows closer about him as he stalked back towards the shelter of the ancient temple. The Temple of Yadzi it was said was erected by Yadzi himself, not so long after he had found the original Gem after it had fallen to Earth some two thousand years past. Some said that its descent had been the very star that Augustine’s Twelve had followed, that shining star that had heralded the birth of the Christ child. In the Christian Bible there had been three that followed the star, not twelve, but it had been the child Yadzi that had found the star fallen to Earth, the Wise Men being distracted. It had been Yadzi that had first used the power for foolish gain, and splitting the stone, creating the Ring and the Yrrdsdral Gem. Such a waste…

Dracula stepped up to Shinobi, the Japanese lackey of the Celestial that had delivered the Scrolls of the Seraphim to these wastes. He was dressed in voluminous robes of beige and white, sitting cross-legged in the Lotus position, his eyes closed in contemplation and looking serene. Not so far away the Priests repeated the words on the Scrolls, and Dracula could feel the rage of power building. Clouds roiled in the distance-

“You brought the warriors,” Dracula asked. He had seen no one but the priests and Shinobi himself. The Nippon nodded-

“As requested.”

“Where are they then? I see no one!”

“Such is their might,” Shinobi cooed, finally tilting his head and staring at the Dark Lord. “The Celestial has promised his support. You have upheld the pact; turning his chosen and delivering the Sunlight Formula. The Lord of Strange Deaths, Ruler of the Council of the Seven sends his appreciation and his best. You must not concern yourself.”

Dracula stared out at the broken, blasted land surrounding the temple, still seeing no support, no minions. He sighed, feeling the pulse of power at his finger growing as the priests repeated their chants. He bowed ever so slightly-

“I apologize, and admit my apprehension. My plans… I am so close. I fear that my foes are even now on their way to try and thwart my simple wants and needs.” Shinobi smiled, standing fluidly and strolling back towards the temple-

“Faith is a mighty thing indeed, but pales beside fear. It is fear that rules the world I think. If not, my master would reign supreme. You must have faith, my friend; Faith in your own powers, as well as the strength of your allies. You shall succeed if you remain true.”

Dracula nodded as Shinobi stepped to an area separated from the temple grounds. There were strange sigils on the ground, surrounding a central diagram of runes and symbols that meant nothing to the Vampire Lord. At their head was an ornate mirror cast of black glass and framed in gold. Shinobi stared at his reflection for a moment, then glanced back at the Vampire Lord-

“Faith, my Lord,” he said, bowing slightly, “That is the key.”

Shinobi turned and stepped into the center of the diagram, immediately vanishing. There was no smoke nor stench, no flash of light. The man was suddenly simply gone. Dracula turned away-

The ring pulsed as he rubbed his thumb over the band of white gold. The Shadow Cloak roiled in anticipation. The priests repeated the writ, their voices rising with each new chorus. Dracula frowned, staring at his reflection in the obsidian mirror-

“Soon, Maria… Soon…”

Next Issue: At last, the fateful conclusion of the first story arch! Join Frank Drake and his rag-tag band of Vampire slayers as they confront Dracula while the fate of the world hangs in the balance…

Well, not really the whole world, but at least their little part of it. Read… Blood Line right here at Marvel Omega… Same Vampire-Bat Time, same Vampire-Bat Addy…