Dracula Lives (30 page)

A spark of tenderness flared up from the embers of his love for his daughter, but was quickly extinguished by the ever-stronger vampire blood replicating itself in his veins.

Wear the crown well,
Vlad Dracula had said.

Markov was the vampire prince now. If he could not defeat a mere mortal with her toy, he did not deserve to wear the crown.

His grip on the impalement stake tightened.

It has to be this way.

He plucked the control panel from his hip and quickly scrolled through the castle’s monitors. Johnny was nowhere to be seen, which didn’t surprise him. She knew all the blind spots, and was much too smart to let him find her that way. And she had her own control panel. She could search the monitors just as he could and stay one step ahead of him.

He took his eyes off the corridor to clip the master control back onto his waistband. When he looked up, Johnny was just rounding the corner guarded by the Grim Reaper. She halted when she saw him. She had the spear gun.

Fifty yards of corridor stretched between them as each calculated their next move.

He had been with her when they’d picked out the spear gun several years ago. Since it was only going to be used in the lagoon, they had decided on one that was lightweight and easy to handle. It had turned out be awkward and difficult to aim, and the line attached to the shaft gave it a maximum range of only ten yards, but still—he had to get it away from her before she got that close.

Markov’s head swiveled skyward, in the direction of the Blood Moon that he knew was growing ever larger above the castle.

He pushed a button on his master control.

The Grim Reaper stepped down from its pedestal. The cameras in the eyeless sockets locked onto Johnny. Both skeletal hands gripped the scythe to administer the killing stroke. One swipe of its razor-sharp blade could easily remove her head.

The grinning, black-robed skeleton began following her up the corridor. Johnny’s cautious advance allowed the lumbering Reaper to gain on her. It was about five yards behind. Markov waited until she was about twenty yards away.

“The moment of truth,” he said.

Seeing his hand moving toward his master control, Johnny quickly looked around to see what he was activating.

The Grim Reaper was almost on top of her. She swung the spear gun up to fire. Markov pushed a button. The Reaper swung the scythe. It hit the spear gun just as Johnny fired and the spear skittered down the hall. The Reaper brought the scythe back into an upright position and stood at attention, awaiting its next command.

Johnny dropped the spear gun and turned back to face Markov. He stood several steps away with the impalement stake pointed at her.

“Did you really think you could defeat your master?” he said.

“I do, yes.”

“Prepare to face your destiny.” Markov took a step toward her.

“Two can play the destiny game.” Johnny pressed a button on her master control.

The Grim Reaper began moving again. Johnny stepped aside, and the black-robed skeleton continued advancing toward Markov. The skeletal hands brought the scythe into position for the kill. Keeping a wary eye on the blade, Markov backed along the corridor. He pushed the button that would stop the Reaper.

It kept coming. The relentless approach of Death, as it made its ungainly, hitching way toward him, was made even more chilling because it came without making a sound.

When he had put enough distance between them, Markov stopped backing and pointed the stake at the Reaper’s chest. He would hate to lose one of his favorite set pieces, but this thing was hell-bent on killing him.

And he was Vlad Dracula
, he reminded himself. Draculas didn’t run. They made others run.

Death kept coming. Markov thrust the stake at the spot where the heart would be, knowing it didn’t have one but allowing for any possibility in the virtual world he had created—a nightmare blend of the digital and the real, swirling around him like a gathering maelstrom.

The Reaper’s jerky movements made him miss, and the stake shot through the space between two ribs. Unexpectedly finding no resistance, Markov stumbled forward and slammed head-on into Death. Its backward stagger, combined with Markov’s instinctive recoil, withdrew the stake. Markov scurried backwards to get beyond the range of the scythe, but Death could let no one escape. It quickly regained its balance and lunged forward, bringing the scythe around with a vicious swipe.

It sliced through the stake, missing Markov’s hands by inches. Markov threw the stub at the Reaper and backed hastily up the corridor.

Johnny stepped out from behind the Reaper. She pushed the button to deactivate it and quickly closed on Markov. Before he could react she shot a blast of bear spray. Frantically rubbing his eyes, he let out a roar so loud it seemed like it might crumble the stone walls. His hands grew larger and hairier. He was turning into the Wolf Man.

Johnny aimed the spray again but he slapped it from her hand. She turned to run, but his huge paw clamped onto her neck and spun her around. Hatred blazed in the werewolf’s eyes as he blinked away the final effects of the spray. His voice was hoarse and guttural through the altered vocal cords. “Your pathetic little rebellion has failed. Quinn is carrion for the pterodactyl, and now I must treat you like anyone else who tries to overthrow the crown.”

He dragged Johnny to the Reaper, who stood motionless, awaiting its next command. The Wolf Man slammed Death to the floor, then savagely pulverized its grinning skull with repeated blows from his huge paw.

Still holding Johnny by the neck, he bounded to the end of the corridor and dragged her down the stairs to the subterranean chamber.

Quinn broke through the surface of the lagoon gasping for breath. The image of the demonic eyes of the Creature burned in his brain. There had been
life
in those eyes. Predatory life. Whether the thing down there was real or virtual, if it was capable of movement, he was directly above it.

He began swimming toward the nearest shore as fast as he could. His heart pounded as much from fear as the need for air. If he looked back to see if the amphibian thing was following him, it would slow him down—but he had to know. If it
was
coming after him, he could at least try to defend himself or take evasive action. Still swimming furiously, he looked back.

Just below the surface, a hulking shadow was streaking toward him like a torpedo. From its shape there was no mistaking what it was. He was only a few yards from shore, but the Creature was closing fast.

Quinn scrambled up onto land. Chest heaving, he stood and faced the lagoon to see if the Creature would leave the water to continue the chase.

Its head broke the surface. The demonic eyes locked onto him. Backpedaling, Quinn pulled a canister of bear spray from his pocket. The eyes burned a hotter red just before the Creature sank out of sight beneath the water.

Keeping a wary eye on the lagoon, he pulled the phone from his pocket that Johnny had said would get her and only her. He speed-dialed 1.

Nothing.

He tried again.

Dead.

The water must have ruined it. Or—

Markov might have caught her and destroyed hers.

He took off running as fast as he could. He stopped when he came to the hatch that opened into the tunnel connecting the lagoon to the Garden. It wouldn’t take long to finish sawing through the lock, and the tunnel was the quickest way to the staircase that led to Johnny’s apartment.

He knelt and began sawing where he had left off. A minute later the lock popped loose. He opened the panel enough to ease himself onto a set of makeshift wooden steps, then silently closed it behind him. He descended the few steps until he stood in the middle of the passage.

No light or sound penetrated the gloom. Quinn pulled out his flashlight and clicked it on. As powerful as the small light was, it only reached about fifteen yards into the darkness. Aiming it first in the direction of the lagoon, then in the direction of the Garden, Quinn saw nothing but the earth walls and ceiling of the passage. A few scattered puddles glistened on the dirt floor. Here and there were pieces of seaweed that must have washed up from the lagoon.

Soaking wet, eager to get into dry clothes, he had barely started heading toward the Garden when he heard faint sounds. He stopped to listen.

A dragging sound, followed by a clanking sound. Coming from the direction of the lagoon.

Shhhht.

Clank.

It kept repeating at regular intervals.

Shhhht.

Clank.

Each repetition brought it closer.

Quinn aimed his flashlight beam in the direction of the sound. Two red pinpoints of light emerged from the gloom and grew steadily larger.

The demonic eyes of the Creature. It shuffled toward him, dragging the chain it had broken loose from whatever had anchored it.

Quinn turned and sprinted toward the Garden. Behind him he heard the Creature continuing its relentless advance, but the sounds gradually faded as the distance between them increased.

Ahead, the light coming from the Garden allowed him to click off his flashlight. As he crossed the threshold, unexpected movement brought him to a sudden halt.

Three of Markov’s “Flowers of Evil” had risen from their coffins. They had appeared to be aimlessly shuffling about, but at the sound of Quinn’s approach their heads snapped around.

They began weaving their way through the coffins, apparently with the intention of heading him off. Quinn ran down the nearest of the four aisles that that terminated at Lady Elinore’s tomb. As he approached her coffin, something was very wrong. He needed to keep going to the aisle on the other side that would take him to Johnny’s staircase, but he couldn’t ignore what he was seeing. He slowed to a walk and and proceeded with extreme caution. If the undead managed to get ahead of him he’d have to deal with it.

He and Johnny had placed the lid back on Elinore’s tomb. Now it was propped against it. The lid was extremely heavy. Who could have taken it off? Those three? Markov as one of his superhuman monsters?

Lady Elinore?

No. She could not possibly have gone from her near-dead state to being that strong.

Quinn thought of the impossible things he’d seen since coming here.
This isn’t over
, she had said.

Maybe….

The three undead were slowly catching up. The one leading the pack ran a tongue across its lips, exposing its fangs.

Quinn had to keep moving. Find Johnny. But he had to know if Elinore had gotten loose.

He ran up the steps of the bier to look inside her tomb.

It was empty.

He staggered back and quickly looked around. The only thing moving was those three. The leader broke away and headed up the ramp to the bier. The others kept going toward the far side of the Garden, probably to block the entrance to Johnny’s passage—the only other way out.

The leader stepped onto the bier and shambled relentlessly toward Quinn. It was blocking his path to the ramp. Quinn backed away and looked to see how far it was to the ground.

Far enough to make a jump risky.

The undead thing reached out to grab him.

He jumped.

Ignoring the pain as he crumpled to the ground in a heap, he scrambled to his feet and sprinted up the next aisle.

When he reached Johnny’s staircase, the two undead were looking at each other in confusion as they backed away from a large mound that blocked the entrance.

That wasn’t there before
, Quinn thought.
What was it that had them afraid?

Whatever it was, it seemed to be holding them at bay. They were to the right of the mound, so Quinn went to his left. As he got closer to the mound he recognized the look and smell.

Wolfbane.

Markov must have removed it from the Garden to set his minions free. Which meant more could be loose.

The undead eyed him from the other side but came no closer. Quinn stuffed as much of the wolfbane into his pockets as he could and squeezed past the mound onto the stairs. He bolted up the staircase, ready to barrel past anything that got in his way.

A moment later he was in Johnny’s fireplace. Just as he was about to emerge from that shadowy void into her bedchamber, something clamped onto his ankle. Instantly thinking it was the severed hand, he pulled out a canister of bear spray. But when he looked down, the hand was covered in bandages. And it wasn’t severed.

“I told you this wasn’t over.”

Lady Elinore’s voice was much stronger now. And her grip was like a vise. Quinn took several awkward steps into Johnny’s apartment, dragging Lady Elinore with him. She finally released her grip and struggled to her feet, stumbling slightly before she stood facing him. The hatred he’d seen in her eyes when she was in the tomb burned hotter now.

“How did you get out?” Quinn said.

“My husband set me free.”

“After all these years? Why?”

She motioned to her body wrapped in bandages. “He thought having a mummy for his monster rally would be a nice touch. He has other reasons, which I can’t divulge. He’s the director, and he insists on being the one to reveal how the ending unfolds. I can tell you this: When this picture is wrapped, he plans to do a sequel. Do things better this time.”

“With the movie or your lives?”

“They are one and the same.”

Markov had said the same thing. His brainwashing had been thorough. “Where is he?”

“Going after Johnny. We both are. She’s been a bad girl. She must be punished.” Her lips parted in the mockery of a smile. Among her rotting teeth Quinn saw two glistening white fangs. The elixir was taking over.

He had to find Johnny. He looked across the room to her control panel, thinking he might be able to see her on one of the monitors. All were dark.

Elinore responded to his puzzled look. “Markov turned them off. He doesn’t want you to see what we’re doing. The ones in his apartment are still on. We can see without being seen.”

“I’ll find her.”

“You’re probably too late.” She smiled the obscene smile again.