Tomb of Dracula

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned.
W. B. Yeats (1865–1939), Irish poet, playwright. The Second Coming.

BLOOD LUST!

By Curtis Fernlund

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

Manhattan:
Soho…

There was naught for Thor to do but wait, remain silent and hang his head in respect. He had been in the same position far too often, most recently over the last decades, when another warrior mourned a fallen hero or loved one. Over his vast years he had seen many fall, both in battle or simply wasting away with time and age. The humans especially were a fleeting race, burning brightly for a short time, then flickering, finally dying away.

The Mage, Eric Arcane had fallen to his knees and screamed his grief to the heavens as soon as he had entered his dwelling. Thor had pushed forward of course, expecting the worse, primed to continue the battle, but what he found inside made even he pause and give cause. It had been a slaughter.

The body that Arcane yet cradled had been beaten savagely and ripped to shreds. Thor could see the marks of senseless violence, the utter and uncaring abandon that went into the mortal’s death. Blood pooled upon the floor and spayed the walls in a gory display. The body was twisted and broken, the man’s back shattered and limbs cast akimbo. The face was a tattered and crimson pulp. It was as though the Dark Elves had plied their trade on the mortal, and for what need? The humans were as fragile as they were fleeting.

Arcane was on his knees in the blood holding the battered and broken body tightly to his chest. He was heaving, his breath coming in long ragged sobs as he cried for his fallen mate. Thor let the man rant, for until his grief had been met the mage would be of little use in the war to come. There would be a reckoning however, of that the Thunder God swore. The Lord of the Undead would pay for this effrontery or the Son of Odin would die in turn!

So he vowed…

The Scion of Asgard turned as he heard voices in the outer hallway, feet slamming up the stairs. He readied his mighty hammer, Mjolnir crackling with his pent up fury, ready to lay low these new invaders. None should take the God of Storms unawares-

“Whoa, big man, whoa!”

‘Twas Misty Knight stepped into the dim light of the stairwell’s landing, raising her hands to ward away Thor’s barely checked blow. Behind her he saw the others; Colleen Wing and Frank Drake, the surviving members of the Shock Troop, Paladin and the lady Dagger lagging behind, bringing up the rear. Thor eased back as the landing filled, raising a hand of his own to stay the mob-

“Peace,” he said softly, eyeing each in turn as they pressed forward, “walk softly in respect. Mage Arcane has suffered much at the foul hand of the Dark Lord and his minions.”

“Oh Jesus…”

To hear one as valiant as Misty Knight exclaim so, Thor knew that the act of heinous murder was most foul and grave. Knight, as well as her bosom ally Colleen Wing were both warriors tried and true, their mettle tested time and again. Knight had once been an officer of mortal law, and her own tragedy led her to union both with Wing, but the other warriors Iron Fist and Power Man as well. In her time alone, she had traveled the world and seen things that mortals were not meant to see. Perhaps it would be best if the God of Thunder stayed the sight from the others. He held his arm across the portal-

“It would be best methinks to allow yon Mage his time to grieve alone.” Thor stood in the doorway, blocking the others to hold them back and spare them the sight.

“You’re kidding, right?” Thor blinked as the man Frank Drake strode to the fore looking first past the Lord of Crops, then up into his eyes, his own gaze cold as steel. Thor wrinkled his nose at the foul and twisted burning weed dangling from the man’s lips-

“The Son of Odin dost not ‘kid’, mortal,” Thor replied, an icy edge to his voice. “Mayhap thou hast never lost a loved one in your time, but I have and I know that time is needed for-“

Thor blinked again as the man struck him fully on the jaw. He felt nothing, and saw Drake wince in pain, cursing as he cradled his injured hand up under his other arm. Truly, the ways of mortals were most passing strange.

“Bastard,” Drake spat with a grimace of pain, “I’ve lost more than you’ll ever know or care. And I won’t be losing anymore! Dracula has to be stopped, so the ‘mage’ needs to suck it up and we have to get back on business!”

Thor felt his rage boil forth, and it took all of his mighty will to stay his hand and end the mortal’s chatter. “Thy callous disregard of life shall not be reflected herein. Stay thy hand mortal and step off lest you face the unfettered wrath of Thor!”

“Bring it you son of a-“

Dagger stepped forward, her own patience at an end. She looked haggard and weak, but her hands still managed to glow with a brilliant white light and as she raised it up the two men, mortal and God both gave pause-

“We do not have time for this,” she shrieked, sighing heavily. She turned to Drake, her blue eyes dark and crackling with fury and rimmed red from tears, “I don’t know what your Dracula did to Tyrone, how he stole C-Cloak’s power-“ she sobbed, choking back the tears in her voice, “but I can feel him out there. He’s using the Dark Force, and it’s killing me! It’s like drinking sour milk, making my stomach churn and leaving a foul taste in the back of my throat.”

“You know where he is?” Paladin asked, shouldering his way forward as he adjusted the settings on his gun, eyeing the power display.

“It’s,” she started, biting her lip and sniffling as she thought of the right words, “it’s like an arm or leg I guess. Y’know, how people who’ve lost a limb say they can still feel it. It’s faint and far away, but yeah, I think I know where he is. At least what direction-“

“Then we’ve got him!” Drake shouted and grabbed Dagger by the arms, shaking her, “Where is he?”

Dagger’s eyes grew wide. “East…” she said in a whisper, seeing the near madness in Frank Drake’s eyes.

“Where?”

Drake felt the firm hand of the Thunder God fall on his shoulder, the slightest bit of force causing him to wince in pain and whimper. He quickly released the girl.

“Watch thy tone mortal, and place thy hands on me if thou must touch anyone.”

“So we got a vague idea where Lugosi is,” Paladin said, hoping to stay the blustering between Drake and the Avenger. “How do we pinpoint him, and more importantly, how do we get there in time to stop whatever he has planned. I don’t want to put a damper on things, but we ain’t exactly been batting a thousand here folks.”

“The power of Mjolnir can transport us anywhere within the Nine Worlds and beyond. We shall arrive in just time, if we might locate the spawn for certain.”

Everyone turned towards Dagger, but she looked lost. “I don’t… I can sense him, and if I headed in the right direction I could find him but I don’t know exactly where he is. The bond I shared with Cloak just points me to him- or whoever…wears-”

Dagger sagged against the wall and started crying again, her thoughts turning back to Tyrone. They had left the boy with the paramedics that had finally arrived on scene in the slums of the Lower East Side. The police and more importantly the Fire Department had swept down the street, tending to the wounded and the fires, killing the vermin that still lingered and generally taking over. The others had convinced Tandy Bowen to leave Tyrone in their care, at least for the time being. She did not like it.

“So, we’re back to square one?” The Blazing Skull stepped over to stand near the young woman to keep the others back while she cried.

“No.”

Frank Drake scowled, turning a dark eye towards his estranged wife. He saw his beloved- but dead- Rachel Van Helsing every time he looked at Marlene Drake, and it ate away at him, but he was not about to dismiss her outright. He knew that Marlene possessed some mental powers. Nothing on the grand Mutant scale that the X-Men lorded over, but more in the league of the street psychic or the Gypsy fortune-teller. He stared at the woman he had married, and she stared back without a bit of pity or passion.

“I can find Dracula, if Dagger is willing.”

“How?” Drake asked, chaining another cigarette to life. Marlene glared at him, then smirked-

“I can link Dagger to Thor, kind of like the Vulcan Mind Meld,” she stared at Drake with a smirk. “That is if Princess is willing…”

Marlene turned her gaze on Dagger then, her face cold as the girl looked up. Dagger opened her mouth as though to say something, then simply nodded, hugging herself.

“Do it!” Drake shouted, looking from Thor to Dagger, not expecting or waiting for permission. The Thunder God nodded-

“Let it be so.”

Marlene stepped forward, a smug look on her face as she placed a hand on Dagger’s brow. Her face twisted in concentration as she stared hard at the younger girl-

“Concentrate on your ‘bond’,” she said, her eyes going glassy after a moment. Her head snapped back then, suddenly, and she reached out for Thor, her fingers brushing his temple. Thor’s eyes grew wide, then narrowed just as quickly as something passed between the three. It took a moment, and no one seemed to move or breathe until the God of Thunder finally nodded. Marlene stumbled, sagging back towards the wall on buttery legs but Paladin caught her before she could fall.

“Stand ye back as I unleash the swelling magicks of mine Uru hammer. Avert thine eyes lest ye be blind by the wonders that Lord Odin hath wrought!”

Thor stepped aside, waving the others back and away as he started to whirl his hammer in an ever-widening circular arch. Electricity crackled from the hammer, and all felt the static charge of eldritch energy as Thor sped the hammer on its course. Lightning flashed, and somewhere far away thunder boomed. Slowly the very air seemed to fold and separate, a sparkling well appearing within the arch of the hammer’s mark, a portal opening to somewhere else-

“Fear thee not, but step quickly all, for even the unbridled might of the Scion of Asgard cannot long hold at bay the forces he doth set free!” Thor was shouting over the deafening whir of the hammer’s spin, the crackling energy and the boom of the realm beyond.

Frank Drake tossed his cigarette aside and leapt through, oblivious of the danger, Marlene hot on his heels and only a heartbeat behind. The others were only slightly slower; Wing then Knight, Paladin with Dagger, and the Blazing Skull. Finally N’Kantu stepped forth. He glanced curiously at the God of Thunder, his one good eye alive with intelligence. Perhaps he was recalling something eld, something long forgotten. Thor was of a pantheon that had not existed when he had lived, and long there after truth be told. And even now there was another that the masses followed and paid tribute to. Thor stared back, nodding, seeming to understand, and the Living Mummy shambled forth, disappearing within the vortex.

Thor watched as N’Kantu faded into somewhere else before he adjusted his stance and moved to face the portal himself. The others were through, on their way and probably already facing the Dark Lord beyond. It was simply for him to follow, to close the doorway behind.

“Wait…”

Thor turned to see the Mage Arcane standing at his side. The Nubian’s eyes were pink and glassy, rimmed red, but still glared cold and hard. His face was stone as he breathed deeply staring into the whirling vortex. Still he stood tall and proud-

“Not without me,” he said, his voice like thunder deep and dark, “That ass is mine.”

Thor stared at the Mage, and for the briefest of moments there eyes locked and he understood. It was honor, honor and vengeance. Thor nodded, standing aside as Arcane lit a cigarette and stepped calmly through the portal. The God of Thunder followed, closing the door behind him…

Eurasia:
The Syrian Desert…

Dracula gazed skyward watching the clouds rolling closer, thickening, and darkening as they blotted out the Noonday sun. He pulled his burnoose tighter about his head, dragging the thin dark cloth down to better shield his eyes. Even with the power of the Cloak of Shadows enshrouding him, the light of day still burned.

The heat had diminished somewhat thankfully, a warm breeze only slightly more comforting than the stagnant heat of the arid desert. Soon enough the clouds would be bulging with water though, and at his command the sky would loose its bounty. It was a pity that the Scrolls deemed the optimum time of the casting should be at the crest of the sun, but it only made sense. Open the Gates of Hell at darkest night, breach Heaven’s Gates in brightest day.

The Priests of the Yadzi Temple had been reciting the incantation now for over an hour. They were twelve in all, one of those numbers of import; twelve hours of day, of night, twelve months, twelve constellations, twelve disciples. They surrounded the Obsidian mirror that would act as the gateway in a seemingly haphazard semi-circle, though Dracula knew that every position they had assumed had been meticulously chosen. All was going well, and it was only time that was the enemy now.

Dracula cursed, wishing the minutes to tick by even faster. He thumbed the Ring of Yrrdsdral; the chip of Yadzi stone imbedded within, rolling the white gold band about his bony, tapering finger. His patience was growing thin, and he knew before too long that Drake and his witless allies would find some way to track him.

He could feel the girl in fact, her mind probing that faint link between her own powers of light to the darkness he had stolen from the boy. He realized that he should have killed her when he had the chance, but she- her power rather- was just too beneficial. He still felt bloated from the Light that she had fed into his Dark. He had never felt so full and complete. If only there were some way to-

“Lord…”

Dracula turned, the red-robed priest staring at him, his face lost to the shadows of the thick hood that he wore. He was pointing, and despite the fact that they were all reciting the incantation of the Scrolls of Seraphim, he had heard them say little else. Dracula turned his gaze in the direction indicated and spat-

“Finish,” the Lord of the Undead commanded, “I shall deal with this.”

He raced towards the portal, knowing exactly what it was. The pinkish crackling energy spiraling in an ever-widening arch was a sure sign of a mystical gateway, possibly Strange, but more likely the Thunder God focusing on the mental bond provided by the girl. Dracula knew some magic of course, but not enough to counter whatever spell was being employed. There were however, other means at his disposal. He raised his arms to the sky, feeling the Yadzi Ring pulse with power-

“Come!” he commanded and lightning flashed a roll of thunder pealing, shaking the very mountain in its ferocity. The rain came then, great sheets falling, a deluge spawned by his own powers and made all the more terrible by the power of the Ring. Thus he would distract the God of Thunder. The others were as nothing…

Frank Drake sprang from the Avenger’s portal at a run. He had no idea what to expect here on the far side, nothing but the worst. He was not disappointed in that.

He saw Dracula before him, just a few yards away, that cloak roiling and whipping about him in the growing winds. It was cold, an almost freezing rain drenching the dry arid ground, rivulets of water rushing away down the mountain that he found himself on. Drake ignored it; the cold and rain, the wind and the lightning crashing down about him. He charged forward, raising his gun-

“Eat this you son of a bi-“

BOOM!

Thunder slammed down, almost bowling him over as Drake fired both barrels of his sawed-off at the Dark Lord. His aim was true, dead on, but the hail of blessed white thorn wood passed harmlessly through the shadowy form of his ancestor. Drake cursed, already fumbling the sizzling casings from the gun, digging in his deep pockets for more as an arrow whizzed past his head.

He yelped, glancing back to see Marlene hot on his heels, and the Daughters of the Dragon racing forward behind her. Paladin and Dagger were just leaping through the portal, already scanning the scene, looking for a target. Good-

Drake slammed two fresh shells into his gun and flipped it closed and cocked. He charged forward, taking aim again as Marlene’s quarrel had apparently been as ineffectual as his shotgun blast. Dracula simply stood there waiting, his smile piercing the shadows.

“You’re through, Drac,” Drake shouted over the roar of the storm, “this ends now!”

Dracula laughed. “Words, descendant. Empty words that mean as little to me as your heritage. Would that I had slain you before now, even before that travesty of confusion that we endured with King. I shall rectify that now however. You and all of your followers shall join Harker and his daughter, Blade and the Van Helsing bitch and all of the others who sought to end my reign!”

“Bastard!” Frank Drake shouted, his anger rising, boiling up to hear Dracula curse the love of his life, his long dead friends. He fired his gun, the cloud of thorn wood again passing through the shadows impotently, but Drake did not even see, or care. He charged forward, diving at the dark roiling cloud of shadow that was his ancestor, his bane, his body and soul intent on ending the Dark Lord’s undead life. He sailed through the shadow as uselessly as the buck…

Marlene shook her head, watching her estranged husband as he flew though the shadowy form of Dracula and proceeded to bounce rather gracelessly down the side of the mountain. She hoped that he stopped before he plunged to his death. That was something she had reserved for herself, barring his renewed devotion and apology. She wanted to see Frank suffer and die.

Marlene Drake cranked at her crossbow, pulling back on the strong cord as she locked a new bolt into its track. Dracula watched, seemingly unconcerned, his blazing red eyes flitting from her to the others coming up behind. He had some defense apparently, despite his own ungodly powers- but what?

Dracula’s smile never faltered as he watched the warriors rushing headlong into battle. He knew no fear, feeling the power within him growing, and the certainty of victory rising as the Priests of Yadzi completed the ceremony. He raised his arms to the heavens, laughing as the shadows boiled forth and the storm raged in fury-

“Okiru!” He shouted over the peals of thunder shaking the great mountain, his eyes blazing a fiery red in the gloam, reaching out…

The rain seemed to treble in force as the skies opened in deluge, the sheets of water and wind nearly blowing Colleen Wing off her feet as she scrambled forward. Only the steadying hand of Misty Knight held her up as the Daughters of the Dragon flanked Marlene facing down the Vampire Lord.

“What’s he doing?” Misty asked, wiping uselessly at the rain lashing her face, half blinding her in the thickening darkness. “What’s he up to?”

“Use your eyes girl,” Marlene snapped, adjusting her stance as the wind whipped at her long cloak, “Look!”

Marlene pointed, and the Daughters of the Dragon both stared watching as the very ground seemed to writhe and bubble in agony, rippling with movement. It was only when lightning flared lighting the mountaintop that Colleen finally understood-

“Oh, fuck…” she gasped, her eyes growing wide. Still she swallowed, pushing back the sudden fear that crept up her spine as she gripped her Katana with renewed effort. She licked her lips in anticipation-

“More vampires…” Marlene spat, already aiming her crossbow at the closest form rising from the sandy mounds of earth all around them.

“Worse,” Colleen whispered, glancing at her partner. Misty Knight nodded, her guns in hand for all the good they would do. Colleen looked about them and saw that they were surrounded, a dozen strong- two! A horde of red-clad men hunkering in the darkness swathed in dripping mud and carrying Ninjato, the shorter, sleeker version of her own Japanese sword. “It’s the Yakuza’s assassin clan. It’s the Hand!”

Paladin cursed as he turned off the light-altering effects of his goggles. The lightning and brief glimpses of sunlight blazing through the rolling thunderclouds were making his night vision useless, blinding him with every flash of light. Besides that, the glowing form of Dagger standing at his side was not helping matters any either. He winced, shielding his face against her radiance and cursed again at the battle raging before them as the Blazing Skull fell through the portal behind him-

“Wonderful,” he muttered, casually checking the building charge of his stun gun. It was almost full. “Who invited the Hand?”

“The Hand?” Skully said as he reeled, the after effects of traveling through Thor’s portal. “Jesus, fuck! This just gets better an’ better.”

Paladin nodded as he saw immediately that the Ninja assassins were far more than even the garden variety of the Hand however as the swarmed over the three women trying to overwhelm. The hooded killers were shifting in and out of a mist-like form, and more than once Paladin saw the flash of white from their shadowy hoods denoting a mouthful of fangs. They were vampires then, just like the Si-Fans back in the city. Somewhere along the way Dracula had made some high-powered friends in the Tong and Yakuza, possibly all the way to the mysterious Council of the Seven that allegedly ruled the Asian underworld. Paladin shuddered at the thought; Vampire Ninjas-

“He’s shading them.”

Paladin glanced at Dagger, wondering what she was talking about when it suddenly dawned on him as well. The sun was beaming in shafts through the clouds, and despite the freezing rain that pummeled them he could still feel the heat of day and the steam rising from the ground forming a thin fog. They were vampires out in the daylight, and Dracula was using the very forces of nature to create the thick cloud cover as well as the shadow seeping from the Cloak of Darkness to allow his armies- and probably himself too- to be out in brightest day. He sighed-

“We gotta-“

Dagger was gone, a trail of glowing white following her form as she ran, springing into the air, flipping and twisting as she threw her blazing light knives into the midst of the assassins. It was beautiful, almost mesmerizing to watch her in motion, like some glorious ballet choreographed by Lucas’ Industrial Light and Magic. He watched for a moment as she danced through the crowd, hitting and kicking with a stylish grace that few could match. Her daggers seemed to slay the assassins just as effectively as they had the vampires back in Manhattan, but like then the army of undead seemed overwhelming. Skully was right behind her, his own body glowing but wading into the army of assassins with no grace at all, the exact opposite of the girl. His strength however seemed just as potent as the creatures fell easily to his might. Paladin sighed again and charged forward to join the fray…

Home…

N’Kantu shambled from the portal and immediately felt the sense of remembrance, the closeness of being. He gazed to the south, the fury of the storm lashing at him, the putrid stench of age rising as the rain seeped into his mummified form, bogging him down and making him sodden. He did not care.

He could feel home, just there, not so far out of reach. It was so close that he could taste it. It had been so long. He would have wept had he been able, the call of his people ringing in his ears calling to him. Just a few days journey, across the sea and he could be in the wealth of Egypt.

But it was not time. Not quite yet…

N’Kantu turned his gaze on the heart of the darkness, his eyes easily finding the Dark Lord in the midst of shadow. Dracula stood, his eyes flickering as he directed his slaves to battle, a smug smile curling dead lips. He was arrogant, that one, and with reason. He commanded power in his own right, and beyond. The purple man had said that the Dark Lord had taken the writings of the slaves, a piece of the Word-

The Scrolls of the Seraphim…

N’Kantu had heard of the Exodus of course, though that had occurred long after his time, when the slaves were freed. Their history and legends had been preserved apparently, word of mouth written in their own Bible, scrolls and tablets transformed for all. At least for the most part.

There were always things not deemed suitable for the people in any culture. The words of the Lord- whomever he may be- was sometimes far too revealing. Thus had the Lawsof the Hebrew god been sealed away in an ark. Thus had the Scrolls been secreted in a cave and buried. Thus had the teachings of His heralds been ‘lost’.

N’Kantu heard the words then, whispers over the driving rain and crack of thunder. He felt the pull, the call of the Nile beckoning. Osiris stood on the far shore waiting still. The Dark Lord sought to fling wide the Gates of Heaven and Hell, and the denizens stood ready to storm forth to do his bidding…

And the sea should give up its dead…

N’Kantu shambled forth. It was time. Past time…

Eric Arcane stumbled from the portal, screaming as the chill winds bit into him, staggering in the force of the freezing, driving rain. His long hair whipped about as he tried to see, wondering just where the Thunder God’s portal had deposited him. The weather raged, and vaguely he saw the flicker of shadowy figures moving in the distance all red or dark, and one blazing white. There was a structure too, a huge shadowed thing sitting at the edge of sight, the dimmest shine of radiance sparkling in the storm and shadow. He could feel the magic in the air-

Lightning crashed to earth, a sheet of crackling bolts washing over the battlefield. He winced at the sudden brilliance, images of bodies writhing in torment as stone splintered, erupting into dust. Great chunks of rock split away and tumbled down the mountainside as thunder boomed mightily, driving him to his knees-

“Zounds…”

Arcane glanced up staring at Thor as he surveyed the battlefield. He seemed unaffected by the raging storm as he glanced skyward, licking his lips of rain.

“The Vampire Lord doth seek to tear asunder the very heavens and lay low the mountains of the Earth in his mad quest for power.”

Arcane stood, staring into the mob, finally finding the dark shadow that was Dracula. He shook his head-

“No,” he said, his mind racing as he brought spells to fore, “it’s more than that I think.”

Strange had told him. There was rebellion in Hell, and the walls were crumbling. Dracula was trying to open the dimensional barriers, he could feel it. He was using the Scrolls of the Seraphim and the splinter of the Yrrdsdral Stone in his ring to loose the Gates of Hades…

Abandon hope…

“I must stem the tide of this most unnatural storm,” Thor said, his portal closing behind him as he started spinning his hammer in an ever-widening arch. “Left unchecked, the devastation might well be catastrophic!” Thor glanced at Arcane, the wind about them rising as the Thunder God slightly altered the path of his whirling hammer. Arcane shrugged-

“You do what you gotta do, son,” Arcane said as he pulled a cigarette from the battered pack in his coat, lighting it with the slightest spell, shielding the magic with his hands. He breathed deep, inhaling, calming, “so will I…”

Thor rose into the sky without another word, quickly disappearing into the low, thick clouds and the gusting winds. Arcane ignored him, stalking forward, his teeth grinding on the cigarette between his teeth, already dead in the storm…

Steel flashed as Colleen Wing struck. Every shot, every blow had to count as she twisted about, her Katana slicing through air as easily as dead and rotting flesh. She flipped, legs scissoring overhead as she lashed out, her blade biting, severing another head. She did not care, landing, bracing, her Katana up and sparking as steel met steel, blocking attack.

The Hand were quick, but slower than she recalled, the curse of Vampirism dragging them down. What they had lost in speed however they more than made up for in resilience. Every stroke had to be true as she struck again, her blade arching out and slashing, her aim unerring. Her sword cut into one causing him to stagger back, the second falling headless at her feet, the shattered pieces of his sword raining down. She was already moving however, spinning with momentum as her Katana slashed another, opening his body to the elements.

She saw the exploding brilliance of Dagger’s light knives as she backed away. The girl was killing easily now, wantonly as she leapt and danced about the battlefield. The daggers hit and the vampires burst aflame, dying quickly and dissolving as the Hand was wont to do as they were beaten. All the better.

Paladin was shooting and hammering away at the army of assassins as well. His stun gun was all but useless, his enhanced strength doing more damage as he smashed through their undead ranks, staggering the killers for the others to lay low. Colleen struck again, another of the Hand falling headless as she backed into a familiar form-

“Jesus,” Misty Knight swore, firing her magnum into the closest of the attackers. The body seemed to explode, but as the assassin staggered back with the force of the bullet, Colleen saw it quickly start to heal. Misty slammed her bionic right arm down onto the creature, shattering its neck and driving it to its knees. She drove her fist through its back, ripping out its heart-

“Hang on Misty,” Colleen shouted over the storm, “and aim for the heart. We’re cutting them down.”

“Whittling girl,” Misty said leaning against the comforting warmth of her partner’s back. “There’s so many, and Dracula’s still there-“ she shrugged in the Dark Lord’s direction. He had not moved, Colleen saw, other than to direct his army.

Colleen saw Marlene battling forward, one moment forcing the Hand away, the next lost in a sea of red. Paladin too seemed to be overwhelmed by sheer numbers, though he was fighting the good fight to the last. Only Dagger seemed fresh and untouched as she bounced through the mayhem, though Colleen saw that her light was dimming, failing…

She pushed away with a scream of rage, her sword flashing as she waded into the Hand. Steel bit deep, drinking heavily, bodies and limbs falling in her wake. Her sword was folded over and over- a thousand times, the finest blade that she might afford and etched with Runes against Gaki, blessed against the demons of Japanese myth. It helped, but it was not enough. She fought her way forward and felt Misty at her back as always. Dracula was the key, obviously, the Hand a distraction.

He had to die…

“Lord…”

Dracula turned at Shinobi’s voice. The man seemed unaffected by the force of the storm, his body washed by the freezing rain, his black hair barely out of place. Dracula looked down on the speck, his liaison with the Celestial-

“What?” he asked, the darkness roiling about him. Still he stared hard at the little Asian, hope swelling within-

“It is time.”

At last…

Dracula turned his attention to the Priests of Yadzi. He had not noticed that the chanting had ceased, but he saw now the blinding radiance bubbling form the once-obsidian mirror, rays of Heavenly light building in brilliance as the doors to worlds beyond slowly opened at his command. Pillars of salt stood where the Priests had been, washing away in the rain, decaying in the brilliance spewing forth. The sacrifice had been accepted.

Dracula turned away from the battle, wrapping the dark shadows about him as he came closer to the burning light. The portal was opened, the Gates sundered, and it only remained that he should call forth his beloved-

“Maria…”

The Lord of the Undead stood before the swirling portal, the gateway wide. His eyes watered in the glory from beyond, and even with the Cloak of Shadows concealing his form, the thick roiling clouds overhead, he still felt the burn of Heaven’s Light. He stood fast however, the words inscribed on the Scrolls, burned into his memory springing forth in his guttural, twisted tongue-

Redire…

Dracula staggered, feeling the tug and pull of the world beyond. Far easier to simply step through the portal, but he knew that he would not join his beloved. Instead he would be cast down into the depths…

Maria, Redire…

He felt something, the slightest change as some sweet scent wafted forth. The scent of Elysian Fields, The odor of flowers growing wild on the slopes of Heaven…

Mar-

“Gakk!”

Dracula choked, the words caught in his throat as something wrapped about his neck. He squirmed, feeling his body rise up, his feet scrambling for purchase. He stared, eyes bulging as he struggled to be free-

N’Kantu hefted the Dark Lord’s bulk easily, squeezing, his hand closing about the Vampire Lord’s throat. He saw Dracula squirm in his grip, his own decayed face twisting in a grimace, the closest thing that he could achieve mimicking a smile. His own voice rumbled, a garbled laugh slipping past his lips as he tightened his grip, trying to squeeze the vampire’s head from his shoulders.

The portal was open, and peace was there, just a few steps away. Osiris waited, watching patiently as he made last amends, ridding the world of this great evil. The Vampire Lord’s eyes were rolling from his strength. His voice clotted, choked in his throat. Almost-

Cremare!

N’Kantu blinked as his body burst into flame. He felt nothing- he was long past pain- but he saw that Dracula too was burning, caught in the sudden fire. That it was mystical he had no doubt. He glanced about in confusion, his grip never wavering as he held the Vampire Lord, finally seeing the hedge mage striding forward-

Comburere!

Dracula burst aflame, the fires sweeping up and over his body as the Mage stalked forward. He writhed and twisted in the Mummy’s grip, struggling to be free as the magical fires swept over his form. He screamed like a child, the pain obviously intense. N’Kantu felt nothing as he fell away, trying to hold the Dark Lord to the last…

Arcane winced and staggered as he strode forward across the blood-drenched, rain-swept field of battle. The earth was slick with racing rivulets of slimy, pink-tainted water. The very ground seemed to be melting, charred and blackened from lightning, the corpses of the undead littered, smoldering heaps decaying in the wind. Flashes of light staggered in brilliance overhead electrifying the clouds as the storm continued to rage, thunder rolling and rumbling continually. Even over the roar of thunder and wind Arcane could hear the angry shouts of the cursing Lord of Storms trying to quell the tempest. His shadowy black silhouette seemed small and lost tumbling in the face of the gale, overwhelmed in the freezing rain…

Fulgur!

Arcane gritted his teeth, his hand curling in pain as he directed a wave of lightning down from the storm. Arthritis gripped his hand and fingers, his joints aflame as the bolt shattered stone and temple alike in its fury. He heard Dracula cry out in sudden agony as the burning form of Vampire and Mummy alike danced and shook like marionettes on strings of electricity dangling from the heavens.

He could feel more pain with every word of power that he whispered, but he did not care. He saw through bleary eyes the form of the Mummy staggering under each new assault, and felt regret that he too must suffer with the Dark Lord, but it had to be. Dracula was just too big, too evil, and whatever foul plan he was hatching he had to be stopped no matter who got in the way.

Arcane stared at his hands a moment, catching his breath and balance just a few yards from the blazing form of Mummy and Vampire locked in battle. Spots were starting to form, the weathered skin stretching as his frame dwindled with enforced age, his life force slipping away with every spell he uttered. He did not care, glancing back at the struggle, another dark, half-remembered word dancing across the tip of his tongue. He thought of Alex…

Clarus!

Dracula screamed as lightning bore down, lashing at he and the Living Mummy as it shattered the eld stone of the Temple of Yadzi. The raised platform beneath their feet rocked and buckled, sending the pair staggering with the heavenly onslaught. But though the creature’s grip loosened it did not break.

Dracula stared at the ancient monstrosity as flames raged up, engulfing them both. He could see the timeless fire of anger and despair within the dark orbs, the pain of immortality washing over the creature as it was bathed in the brilliance pouring from the obsidian portal. Dracula could well understand what drove the monster ultimately, even though he had no idea as to its origin nor circumstance. He too had felt the loneliness of trekking aimlessly through countless centuries, peace and even contentedness forever just out of grasp. Dracula knew the agony of being alone, a wolf in a field of brainless, blathering sheep.

He cursed, feeling the monster’s grip tighten once-again, snarling as the Mummy tried to snap his neck. The flames ate away at him, at them both and Dracula almost marveled that the mummy had not simply crumbled to dust in the inferno. It was only the might of the Ring he wore that stayed his own agonies and kept the mystical flames at bay, even a little. Still he felt the heat, the burn of licking fire as his clothes sparked and flared, his skin searing-

“Ahhh!”

The darkness about him boiled and ripped away as light exploded about them. Mystical luminescence burst through the shadows of the Cloak of Darkness, the mage’s latest words of power tearing the cloak’s own spell asunder. Worse, as the Dark Dimension’s obfuscating thickness churned and wafted away, the pure brilliance of Heaven’s Light shone forth, no longer hindered. Dracula screamed again as he and his assailant were both cast in the stark, searing glare of beyond.

Only the powers of the ring, the last surviving splinter of the Stone of Yrrdsdral saved the Dark Lord then and there. Dracula knew that the Stone had originally come from space in the form of a fiery meteor over two thousand years before. Legend said that it was that very meteor falling to Earth that the ancient wise men followed, that it was a sign of the Christian God pointing the way to His son and messiah. Dracula had thought it rubbish, but he could feel the surge of power within the stone at his finger, the tingling vibrations of like and one as the ring protected him.

The Living Mummy however had no such protection. Dracula felt the creature’s grip fall away as the brilliance washed over them. He staggered back, his hand going to his own throat as he struggled for breath to ease the lingering pain, watching as the burning, crumbling form of the Mummy shambled forth towards the Light. Dracula could barely see the shifting shadows within the mirror’s gilded, glowing frame. Simple variances of light flickering, almost shapeless forms washing across the wavering portal. Something was trying to come through…

“Maria…”

N’Kantu felt the pain of the mystic’s attacks. He felt the bite of the flames as they engulfed his ragged form, felt the sting of lightning as it drove through him, shattering the very ground beneath his feet. It was the light however that finally made him reel and fall back, loosening his grip about the leech’s throat. The darkness had swelled, then separated, flowing up and away with the magic only to reveal the true Light and the Call at last.

The Call…

N’Kantu stared longingly at the portal, the glowing fires beyond staggering in a brilliance that he could barely stand to behold. He strained, looking on, his gaze unwavering as he saw form and flesh beyond, calling to him, beckoning at last.

He saw Osiris standing on the far shore, the mighty Nile rolling slowly past, sparkling in the glow of peace. There were others beside the Lord of the Dead; a woman and child, a man. They were awaiting him, and had been always. It was time at last, finally over.

His long journey was at an end…

“Ahhh!”

Misty Knight screamed as the sword sliced through her bionic right arm. It hurt, despite the fact that the prosthetic was just that and not of her own flesh and blood. There was a bond however, the very circuitry laced within the arm connected to her brain and nervous system that made the sudden loss hit her like a hammer between the eyes. She felt the surge of pain as circuitry went dead, her mental rapport with her false limb suddenly severed.

Misty dropped to her knees with the shock of loss, looking up as the red-draped vampire spun about in place, his sword raised high to deliver the killing blow. Ever the fighter, Misty raised her left arm, her empty Magnum splayed wide to block, knowing though that the assassin’s blade would easily slice through the heated metal. It had been a good life though, and she would be damned if she would beg. She wasn’t ready to die, but she would-

Her dark eyes went wide as a sudden flicker, a flash of silver swept through her vision. She saw the vampire’s arms slide away, his head loll forward to land with a wet thud at her knees as the body began to smolder and evaporate. Misty looked up to see Colleen Wing standing where the undead assassin had been, whirling her Katana in a quick circle to flick away the bloody residue of the creature’s death. She was spattered with red gore herself, her hair hanging wildly about her face, plastered down by the rain. Her eyes crackled with a filthy lust; for battle and killing-

“You okay partner?” she asked, glancing at the severed robotic arm still sparking, half-submerged in a blood red puddle.

“I’ll live,” Misty said, slowly rising to her feet again. She saw Paladin struggling backwards towards them, still hammering at the Hand. Far away on the other side of the field, the Blazing Skull and Dagger were doing a better job against the undead army. She did not see Thor, or the mage, or even Drake or his wife. Her eyes turned on Dracula-

“Oh sweet Jesus…” she whispered, watching in horror as the body of the Living Mummy finally crumbled as it shambled up the steps of the Temple of Yadzi, lumbering towards the glowing portal. It was enveloped in flames, the driving rain doing nothing to save him. She saw bits of ancient bandage fluttering away, flaming and dissolving. Its legs faltered as it climbed the old stone steps, finally breaking away as the body toppled forward. She watched as N’Kantu reached out, clawing its way forward, trying desperately to reach the Light.

Then it suddenly simply crumbled, collapsing into a pile of tattered burning rags and muddy smoldering dust, spreading out and seeping into the cracked temple stone. Misty Knight saw through teary eyes as she stared into the Heavenly glare, watching as a sparkle of light seemed to flicker from the debris that had been N’Kantu, drifting towards the portal that Dracula had opened, then dispersing as though caught on the wind.

N’Kantu, the Living Mummy was gone…

Dracula felt the steady hand on his arm, the strong grip at his elbow trying to turn him towards the Light. He turned, staring hard at the Asian Shinobi, his gaze sparking with fire and rage. The smaller man stared back, unmoved and unblinking, finally turning his own gaze towards the portal-

“Time grows short, Dark Lord,” he said, his voice heard but barely a whisper. “The Devil Doctor shall not be forgiving if you squander his most precious gifts.”

“Unhand me,” Dracula snarled as he ripped his arm away, out of the other’s grip. He cast his gaze over the field of battle, surveying his handiwork as he massaged his throat, the fierce grip of the Mummy still lingering in burning memory. The Hand was all but defeated it seemed, but not without taking its toll. He saw that the black woman had lost an arm, and her partner with the sword was limping. The mercenary seemed battered, almost doubled over and clutching his side. The giant glowing skeleton still struggled forward, side by side with the girl, Dagger, her knives of light cutting a swath through the last of his damned legion. He did not see Drake, nor the psychic cow that claimed to be his wife. Dracula hoped that finally they were dead.

Overhead, the Thunder God still struggled with the storm. The Yadzi Gem in Dracula’s ring had increased the fury of the tempest as the Dark Lord had hoped. The storm not only provided extra shadow for Dracula’s plans, but a distraction for the Lord of Storms as well. Dracula knew that the Avenger would feel compelled to halt the onslaught of Nature’s fury unleashed, his attention thus kept at bay and away.

He saw the Mage still staggering forward however though he appeared ancient now and almost drained of spirit. The magicks that he employed sucked the very essence of his life away, and again the Ring of Yadzi had been the equalizer. Dracula had survived the Mage’s worst, as he always did.

Dracula, Lord of the Undead strode away from the Asian, ignoring and forgetting his feeble warnings and threats. Dracula did not fear the Lord of Strange Deaths, nor his fabled Council of Seven. Long-lived, perhaps immortal in his own manner, the Celestial was still only human. And Dracula feared no human.

He stood before the portal, his skin smoldering as he stared beyond. Tears welled in his eyes as he beheld the beauty he could never join, the joy of peace and tranquility forever denied him. An image formed in his mind, the beauteous image of his love lost and denied; unrequited love never found as the Turks invaded his homeland. He recalled the face and form, that last scene playing again in his mind’s eye as his beloved wife fell, her head striking the cold hard stone…

“Maria…”

He said her name, calling her forth as the Light swirled beyond. Ghostly figures passed the portal, shining faces staring out as he repeated her name, calling her forth, calling her back. The Light shimmered as a shape appeared, taking form-

Dracula hissed to feel the arm wrap about his throat. He staggered, his skin burning as his concentration wavered, broken by the sudden, unexpected assault. Someone had jumped on his back-

“Not this time, ‘Uncle’,” Frank Drake hissed in his ear and Dracula snarled. “Enough! It ends here!”

It had taken Frank forever to scramble back up the steep side of the rain-swept mountain where Dracula had thrown him. Well, really, he had fallen through Dracula’s mist form, but that was beside the point. His allies were still fighting the good fight, and apparently winning against the Vampire horde of assassins. They had taken some hits, but most of the undead were gone. Dracula was still on his feet though and heading for that portal.

Frank Drake charged forward, slipping and sliding over the blasted, slick stone as he raced towards his ancestor. The blinding glare coming from the old mirror made it hard to see, and frank had to wince through tears as he leapt, landing on his relative’s back and wrapping an arm about his throat, holding on for dear life. Dracula snarled and hissed, cursing as he tried to shake Drake off, but his attention and power was on the portal. His power was tied into whatever plan he was hatching to fruition and he could not simply fade away as mist or bat now. He needed to be whole.

“Get off me, dolt!” Dracula shouted as he reached for Drake, his long nails raking Frank’s back, his strength prying at his grip about the Dark Lord’s throat. Frank held fast-

“Not this time,” he winced as the Vampire Lord scratched him, drawing blood in his struggles. Drake held all the tighter-

Vlad…

Frank Drake and Dracula both stared into the light as a ghostly, radiant figure began to take shape. It was a woman, obviously feminine, shapely with long golden hair and sparkling eyes.

“Maria…”

Dracula almost whimpered as he stepped closer to the swirling portal. Frank Drake tried to hold on, but the Dark Lord was too strong. He reached out-

Daggers of light struck him full in the side and Dracula screamed. Frank saw Dagger leaping forward even as the Blazing Skull waded into the Light, smashing a fist into Dracula’s face. The Vampire Lord barely missed a step, staggering slightly as he backhanded Skully away. He reached out, the ring on his finger crackling with energy-

Frank Drake screamed as something slipped through his back, piercing him. He could feel the wound as it sliced cleanly through his body and knew exactly what it was as Dracula flinched and bucked, the shaft of blessed white thorn wood piercing the Dark Lord’s heart as well.

“I’m sorry, Frank,” he heard Marlene as thunder cracked overhead in a blaze of lightning. The rain suddenly, abruptly ceased, the cold winds dying as the Thunder God finally calmed the savage storm. Dagger’s light knives spattered Dracula and still he strived forward, reaching for the portal, groping. Finally, the pain in his back and chest making everything clear, Frank Drake understood-

Dracula…

“All of this,” he cursed, spittle flying as he ground his arm into his ancestor’s throat, “all of the death and destruction just to bring your filthy whore back to-“

Dracula screamed his rage at last, his grip snagging in Drake’s long coat as he wrenched his descendant from his back and held him aloft at the length of his outstretched arm. He twisted his hand, long fingers wrapping about Drake’s throat, squeezing-

“Never…” he hissed, his voice grinding like gravel in a crusher, rattling, “never again…”

Dracula’s grip tightened about Drake’s throat, cutting off his air. Dracula jerked as another quarrel burst from his chest. He staggered, his fingers clutching. Light exploded about them as his sight grew dim. He saw Colleen charging forward, saw the flash of steel as the portal seemed to explode-

Colleen Wing struck, her sword slicing through the Dark Lord’s extended arm as Light exploded from the portal…

Comburere!

Fire exploded, a ball engulfing Dracula and Drake. Arcane sagged, dropping to one knee as Misty Knight stepped up beside him…

Dagger threw her knives, her light driving into the Dark Lord. The power of the Cloak of Darkness had deserted him mostly, with the mystical light of the mage. The bond was still there, but she could feel it wavering, trying to escape. She threw her light regardless, weakness sweeping over her, trying to brush her aside and asunder…

Skully stood, his skeletal frame flickering in the strobing white light, watching as his flesh crept back into being. He was stunned, speechless. It had been so long…

Paladin raised his gun but hesitated. He had no idea what was happening but knew that his little bioelectric stun wouldn’t mean shit in the end. He was hurting, his side gashed and aching, probably a broken rib or three. He holstered his gun, waiting to pick up the pieces, holding his side…

Thor heaved, his mighty muscles redirecting the path of Mjolnir as he dropped slowly back to earth. He had beaten the Dark Lord’s storm, but he was vexed and sorely taxed. Truly, never before had the Son of Odin been so tested as he was against the foul Lord of the Undead. Now there would be a reckoning…

Dracula watched as Drake fell away, his hand spiraling off into the light after the woman had sliced her sword through his arm. He felt no pain of course- he was above such menial, lesser things for the most part. He felt the twin shafts piercing his heart however. He felt the pain as the protective power of the Yadzi gem faded and the white thorn wood burned into him. He glanced up to see Drake standing before him.

“Son of a bit-“

Dracula ignored his descendant’s words, his left hand reaching out now to grasp Frank Drake. He grabbed him, drew him in close.

“It’s over,” he whispered, pulling Drake close. He could feel his ‘nephew’s’ blood mingling with his own, the thorn wood shafts scratching at Drake’s flesh. The Cloak roiled, shadows trying to take hold. He saw the Scrolls of Seraphim burst into flame.

“Maria…”

Sorry…

Dracula looked up at the familiar voice drifting from the portal. He recognized it, but it was not the voice of his long dead wife.

Maria was busy, the voice mocked, the Light flaring, I came in her place…

Dracula’s eyes went wide as another bolt struck him in the back. The force of the impact shoved him forward into Drake, the shaft piercing his descendant even as white, Heavenly light spewed from the portal. Dracula and Drake screamed in unison, the Dark Lord in pain and Frank in ecstasy as the pure spirit of Rachel Van Helsing passed through them both. There was a brief union as the ghost fled, and both men heard the haggard screams of Marlene Drake as the spirit found a new earthly home.

Dracula staggered, feeling the power of the Light sucking his existence away. Drake was laughing, crying, hanging on for dear life as the Dark Lord staggered towards the mirror that was slowly turning black once again. The spell was spent, the portal closing as a spirit had been released. Dracula concentrated, scooping Drake up in his arms as they were still linked by that final shaft.

“No!” Frank Drake shouted, somehow realizing just what his ancestor was about. He struggled, beating on the Vampire, but the Dark Lord ignored his feeble blows as he called the darkness of the Shadow Cloak about him. It was over. Done.

He had to get away…

Dracula leapt, diving into the swirling, murky glass of the obsidian mirror, the last vestiges of power from the Cloak engulfing him. Drake screamed, but he had no choice but to follow as Dracula fell through the mirror and into the Dark Dimension.

Dracula pulled at Drake as they tumbled through darkness, his mind focusing on the image of his destination. He ripped Frank Drake away, his left hand holding him at arm’s length before casting him into the inky void. Drake screamed as he fell away, out of sight.

The Dark Lord clutched at his chest trying to smile as the pain of blessed wood burned into his still heart. He concentrated on the inner chamber of the Celestial’s palace, using the teleporting properties of the cloak to home in on the Obsidian Mirror within the Celestial’s vast hall. He had lost, but again he had won.

Maria was lost to him, the Van Helsing bitch corrupting the spell.

But Drake was dead, or soon would be, lost to pleasures of the Dark Dimension.

Dracula fell to earth, slamming hard into the dry, parched soil of the Dark Dimension, the world therein that housed the replicas of the Obsidian Mirrors. He gasped, moaning as he quickly pulled the offending wood from his chest lest Torpor set in and he lose consciousness. He screamed, tossing the foul wooden shafts aside, trying once more to catch his breath.

He was weak and hurt. His right hand was gone, severed by the samurai bitch. He was wounded from his ordeal with the Mummy and even the spot where the skeletal man had struck him still throbbed with pain. But, as always, he had survived. He would rise up once more and find the Devil Doctor. They would try again when he was fully healed.

Maria would be freed…

“Hello, Father…”

Dracula looked up to see Lilith striding towards him, her heels clacking on the cold, hard dirt.

“Come,” she said, grabbing him by the collar of his cloak and hoisting him easily to his feet, “we have an appointment you and I. An appointment with the Devil Doctor…”

Dracula staggered as Lilith drew him in close and smiled.

Then they were gone…

Epilog One

Rachel Van Helsing ran her hands lightly down her body, exhilarating in the warmth of flesh and blood. It had been so long. She still remembered the sharp bite of Adamantium claws as Wolverine had pulled her close, holding her…

“Art thou well, child?”

Rachel looked up, her blue eyes sparkling, wet with tears as she looked out at the others gathered about her. She knew them all of course, though she had never met any of them actually. The psychic bond that she had shared with Frank’s wife had been strong.

Thor stood there, the mighty God and Avenger, energy still crackling about his hammer.

The black woman was Misty Knight. Her stub of an arm still sparkled and spit electricity, naked wires hanging from the housing where her bionic right arm had been. Beside her stood Colleen Wing, drenched in blood herself but supporting her friend. She liked Frank, Rachel remembered.

The man in purple was called Paladin, a mercenary. His kevlar was all but shredded, long gashes in his side and legs where the steel blades of the hand had bit deep. He was standing beside Dagger who looked weak and lost, glowing brightly with the light of Heaven herself. Rachel knew…

She did not recognize Jim Skully. Whatever had changed him, the properties of the strange and powerful alien belt that gave him strength and near invulnerability had faded away in Heaven’s Light, reverting him to simply Skull the Slayer.

Finally she saw the Mage, Eric Arcane looking old and withered as he looked over the remains of the Yadzi Temple. He had almost given his all to stop Dracula, and she respected him for that effort though she knew it was more about vengeance than in some bid to save the world. The spells he had cast had drained him and he looked old and decrepit, but she knew too that with rest he would soon be fine. She knew a lot from her time beyond, though it was mostly slipping away. The answer really was 42…

“Yeah,” she said finally, crouching down to pick up a small shining object that had caught her eye. It was a ring, a band of white gold housing a blackened stone sitting amidst a smoldering lump of decay. She slipped it into her pocket and smiled.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Rachel Van Helsing reached up and ran a hand lightly across her face. The scars were there. Still there.

Life goes on…

Epilog Two

Dracula fell to the polished marble floor, dropping to his hands and knees in exhaustion. His arm was throbbing in agony from where the samurai bitch had sliced it off. His chest still pounded from the phantom shafts he imagined piercing his heart. He ached for his loss of Maria. He had been so close.

Lilith slapped him across the back of his head, knocking him to the floor.

“Stop.”

The cool voice echoed throughout the chamber as Dracula glanced up. He saw the Celestial sitting on his simple throne, a mandrill sitting in his lap cooing as he stroked its wild mane. It shivered at the Shinpan’s touch, quivering with excitement.

“Show your sire the respect that he deserves.”

“He deserves nothing,” Lilith spat, her booted foot slamming into the Dark Lord’s ribs, “nothing but misery and pain.” She slapped at him again and Dracula cowered. He was so weak.

“To you perhaps,” the Devil Doctor continued, “but he has fulfilled his obligations to me and does not deserve what you might deem. Touch him again and I shall see you regret it.”

Dracula felt the tension in the room as Lilith considered the threat. Finally she backed away as Dracula looked up and about. The Shinpan was there staring smugly down at him, arrogant and full of as much bigotry for all not Chinese as the Dark Lord was for those not Undead. To the Celestial’s right was a man dressed head to toe in black looking all too formidable and mysterious. Dracula recognized him. He had been the first. To the Celestial’s left was another warrior, this one dressed in armor, his hands replaced by gleaming blades. Neither moved though both stared down at him.

“Your father and I shared a pact for a time,” the Lord of Strange Deaths continued stroking his mandrill, “and while he has squandered his gifts, I have not. He received an army of warriors for his Dark Kiss. He received aid for his obscure plans,” the Celestial smiled, a horrible thing to behold, scratching at the ape’s brow with his long, pointed nails. “I received an army of almost indestructible warriors. My own research has almost eliminated the imperfections of the Sunlight Formula.” The Celestial grinned as both Lilith and Dracula stared wide-eyed at that.

“Our pact has reached its end I fear, however, and Lord Tepes shall never enjoy the fruits of my labors,” the Shinpan motioned with his hand ever so slightly and the dark clad figure strode forward.

Midnight held his hands up for Dracula and his daughter to see; they were radiating purple, a garish, unearthly light. He stood over Dracula, ignoring the Dark Lord’s protests as he gripped the Cloak of Shadows and ripped it away from the Lord of the Undead. Midnight swirled the cloak about, letting it billow as he brought the clasp about his throat and secured it into place. Shadows roiled and churned as the adopted son of the Celestial stepped back and away. Dracula sighed, sagging to the floor in despair.

“Please…”

Lilith smiled, hearing the desperation in her father’s voice. He was weak. He needed blood and she knew that the Shinpan would show him no mercy. Her ordeal was almost over.

“Please?” the Lord of Strange Deaths smirked staring down at the Lord of the Vampires. It was a humbling sight to see one once so mighty laid so low. The Celestial leaned back in his throne, considering.

“No…” Lilith said, striding forward, but the Devil Doctor stayed her hand with a simple flick of his finger. The warrior with blades for hands stood poised, steel at Lilith’s throat and heart.

“Lord Tepes failed in his own goals but I am not without mercy. He has fulfilled his promises to this august personage, thus gaining his freedom with no ill will. A better life awaits…”

He motioned for Midnight again, watching contentedly as his son stepped forward and swirled his new cloak about, engulfing the Dark Lord. Shadow bubbled forth, and a dimness was cast about the chamber as M’Nai enveloped his prey. The mandrill shrieked- a horrible sound- and the Devil Doctor snapped its neck, casting it aside for its weakness. Lilith stared as the light returned, seeping back from the corners of the vast room.

“You should have slain him,” she said, staring at the spot where her father had been, now empty but for the fleeting shadows.

“All in good time, child…”

The Lord of Strange Deaths waved her away, a tear in his eye as he stared at the twisted body of the mandrill splayed on the floor at his feet.

He had loved that monkey…

End Book One: Bloodline

Next Issue: A brief interlude as we go back to Ohio to find out just what happened to Frank Drake in a twisted little tale of love and rockets that I like to call…

If it’s Thursday, it must be Cleveland!

Featuring the most unrequested team up in Marvel Omega history! You all want to see it though.

I know you do…

 

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