VROLOK (50 page)

“What about you, Isabella? If the English are there I don’t want you to face them alone.”

Isabella grinned. “I can take care of myself.”

Vlad placed his hand to her face and gently ran his fingers down her skin. It was a welcome expression of affection. He got back into the coach and whispered to himself.

“I know you can, Isabella, I know you can.” Vlad signalled to the coachman to take him to the nearest inn.

Isabella walked the rest of the way. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself. As she approached the castle, she called into see Anna.

“Has anyone been up there?” Isabella asked.

“Yes, a few days ago a man and woman arrived. He has killed the three Vampires that were left up there.”

“Well, that is no loss,” Isabella said. “It must be Abraham; he wants to kill us all and he is the only real threat to us.”

“Do you think you will be able to change Olya’s prophecy?”

Isabella went over to Anna and squeezed her hand.

“I will try Anna, I promise you I will try.” Isabella spoke these words with conviction but she suspected it was hopeless. Yet she had to try, for she could not imagine a world without Vlad in it. Despite everything, he was the other part of her and without him she would always be wanting.

Isabella went back for Vlad. She had to tell him that their worst fear had been confirmed; Van Helsing had followed and was waiting for them somewhere.

“There is no sign of them,” Isabella began.

“Well, that is good. Perhaps they have not come after us.”

“They have. Abraham has already been up to the castle and disposed of your three…concubines.”

“Well, that is no great loss to the world.”

Isabella smiled. “That is what I said. I think the best thing to do is go back to the castle and wait for them there. I think that is our best chance.”

Vlad and Isabella travelled home together. Isabella was wrong. It was the worst thing they could have done; the English were waiting for them. The coach ascended up through the forest and when they were nearly at the castle gates, Isabella heard horses starting to chase after them.

“They are coming,” she shouted to Vlad. Vlad grabbed Isabella and pulled her close to him.

“Go!” he said vehemently, staring deep into her eyes. “Save yourself.”

Isabella shook her head in defiance but Vlad tossed her from the coach and sped on towards the castle.

Vlad had thrown Isabella with such a force that she was now out of sight of the English and well away from their path. She stood looking up in horror and desperation, trying to think what she could do. As if her situation could not get worse, she saw someone else there that day—she saw Leila.

Leila’s other senses had become more acute and despite her blindness she was breaking the necks of any Slovaks she could find with ease. The Slovaks saw that they were being slaughtered by a Vampire and they started to retreat. Only the Szgany remained.

Isabella ran towards the castle as fast as she could, defying Vlad. Perhaps she could still save him. Leila was not killing the English, so they were not paying too much attention to her. Anna’s son was there, calling, beseeching the Slovaks who were retreating to help in the fight. One of the Englishmen crept up behind him and ran his sword through his stomach.

“No!” Isabella cried out from a distance, willing this event to have not taken place, but it was too late: Olya’s prophecy was coming true. Isabella continued to run towards the castle. She was frantic and for the first time in her life she was unconcerned by the slaughter of Slovaks. Anna’s son was already dead and she cared nothing for the rest of them. Let them run. They would not be running for long. Her only concern now was Vlad.

She had by this time reached the castle. She saw Abraham. He was about to strike and Vlad was trying to escape. Isabella had never seen him run from anyone. One of the men, Isabella presumed he was one of the English, plunged a knife into Dracula’s chest and another was about to slit his throat. Isabella unsheathed her grandfather’s sword and plunged it into the side of one of the men.

“
Don’t see her
,” Vlad whispered. As the other men watched, they thought it was Szgany Gypsies that had wounded the American called Quincy. Isabella summoned up all the power she could muster.

“
Time, slow for me
.” She ran through the crowd that seemed to be almost frozen by her words. When she reached Vlad, the wound was not healing—the knife obviously had Dhampir’s blood on it. Isabella slumped down and knelt at his side. She had little time. She could not hold off his would-be murderers for long.

“What can I do?” Isabella asked, frenziedly trying to think of a way to stop the wound from growing.

“Nothing, Isabella, let me go,” Vlad said. Tears welled up in Isabella eyes. She had not cried since Nicolae’s death, but today she could not hold back. Her tears flowed from her eyes in a mighty red gush.

“No, I can’t,” Isabella cried. “I will never be able to let you go.”

Vlad lifted up Isabella’s hand and placed it on his temple. Vlad’s memories flowed into her mind. She saw Vlad saving her from the guillotine; she saw him letting Nicolae live because he looked so much like her. She saw him carrying her back to Jakub’s home after Leila had attacked her. She saw him nursing her back to health; she had nearly died. He had saved her by letting her drink from his blood and it had caused him hours of agonising pain. And finally she saw why he had fathered a child—to save her from Leila.

Isabella was completely distraught; she couldn’t let him go. “We could have been happy,” Isabella said, but Vlad smiled slightly.

“No, we couldn’t,” Vlad whispered. Isabella was unable to contain her grief.

“I love you.” Isabella whispered. “You and no other. There was never anyone else but you, it has been always you and always will be.”

Vlad tried to smile but his life was ebbing away from him. He wanted desperately to speak his final words to Isabella. “All I ever wanted to do… was share eternity with you.” Vlad saw Jonathon Harker kneeling down to deliver the final blow. His knife was covered in Dhampir’s blood; he was one of the first to break free from Isabella’s spell. Vlad used what remained of his strength to push Isabella back and out of the way. Isabella screamed as the blade sliced through Vlad’s neck and struck the stone floor below him. Phosphorescence that only Isabella and Van Helsing could see now shot out of Vlad’s body. It was that feeling of serenity again but it was stronger this time, stronger than Isabella had ever felt it and she felt more powerful than she had ever done. It was like an energy surging through her. She could see and hear things much further than she ever had before. She felt her strength increasing tenfold and she could feel her influence was much greater. Her scars melted away and her power was greater at that moment—she felt invincible.

And her greatest gift of all, her daylight vision, was given back to her. The sun was shining brightly and she could see, oh so painfully and clearly, as Vlad’s body turned to dust and he gave her all that remained of his omnipotent power. The surge of energy knocked Isabella to the ground and the cobblestones beneath her broke. A light like a thunderbolt ricocheted from her and a scar on the head of the woman that the English had brought with them disappeared; this woman was now free from Vlad‘s curse.

Abraham, who was resistant to both Isabella’s and Vlad’s power, approached her.

Isabella stared up at him.

“Isabella,” he said. “You said when we met again one of us would have to die,” Abraham continued.

“I did,” Isabella answered.

“I think there will be a third meeting, don’t you?” Isabella almost smiling at him said.

“Yes I think there will.” Isabella looked beyond Van Helsing and saw Leila approaching. “Once again, sir, I need something from you.” Isabella slashed her sword across Abraham’s arm, and leapt at Leila. Isabella swung around and took off Leila’s head with one last blow. Vlad’s influence still resonated through the crowd of perpetrators and onlookers. No one apart from Abraham could see Isabella, but now she wanted to be seen by her own people. The people that she had protected for centuries had now repaid her by running from her when she needed them most.

“
Slovaks see me
!” she shouted.

The fleeing Slovaks now all looked up at Isabella who was standing on top of the battlements. “Mark my words, for letting Vlad Dracula die, you, your families, every one of you will all die, I promise you.” The Slovaks knew Isabella meant every word.

TOMBSTONE, ARIZONA
FEW PEOPLE THERE DIE IN THEIR BEDS 

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

Simon walked the dusty path towards the inn where he had left his family. Isabella had given them enough money so that they could stay there indefinitely, and it would be easy then for Simon to find them when he returned. Simon was within a mile of home; he was hoping and longing to see a glimpse of his family. He heard children playing in the distance and he wondered whether they were the voices of his children. He strained to hear, hoping, listening for a familiar tone. That familiar tone that he sought soon found his ear; he dropped his bag and started to run. Moments passed, his vision still obscured by the distance and foliage of the forest, but then all of a sudden he saw his wife. She was sitting with her back towards him. Simon had longed to see his wife again, for all the three long years that he had been away. But on seeing her now Simon’s running was instantly halted. He was now hesitant. Questions started to race in his mind. She could have presumed him dead; after all, he had left with a Vampire. No one would have blamed her for making such an assumption. Simon’s heart sank even as he was just fifty yards away from home.

Simon’s wife was sitting watching her children play. A feeling came over her that she was being watched. She was not frightened; she knew the eyes that were watching were not going to cause her any pain. She stood and looked in front of her, lifting her hand over her eyes to shield her vision from the sun; there was no one there. She sat down again, thinking she had just imagined it. She tried to dismiss it but couldn’t; the feeling was still with her and it had grown stronger. She stood again and peered in front of her and still did not see anyone that she recognised. Then something deep within her heart told her to look to the woods. She twisted around her head as far as she could and she saw her husband standing watching her. She looked forward again her heart pounding; a single tear ran down her cheek. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Could this be a dream? Was this image behind her a welcome figment of her own imagining? She was now frightened. If she looked back again would the image of her husband be gone forever.

Simon was still watching as his she caught his eye. His heart dropped as she looked away, in his eyes his worst fear had been confirmed by her immediate glance away from him. He turned to walk away from her; he would not come back to ruin her life if she had moved on. He turned away with a heavy heart, but then Simon had to turn around again because his wife was calling his name.

“Simon, Simon!” she called. Simon turned to face his wife. She was smiling at him and at that moment Simon was reassured. When his wife was but steps from him she threw herself into his arms. She threw herself with such a force that Simon fell backwards and they both fell to the ground. Simon and his wife lay clutching each other, both laughing, not wanting to take their eyes off the other, not wanting to even blink for fear that their happy reunion was just a dream. When Simon’s children saw their mother running from them they thought it was a game and started to chase after her. The children were only steps behind their mother and also threw themselves on top of their parents. Simon was now sure that his future life would be happy and it was; Simon lived out the rest of his days in sweet prosperity.

Isabella had always planned to wait before her return to England. She wanted to wait partly because of Olya’s prediction and partly because she wanted to spend some time with Nicolae. She did not want to march him back to a place where only death would greet him. She and Nicolae both deserved some time and a little happiness. There was also a more sinister reason for her wait and it was the most important of all her reasons. She wanted the English to put the events behind them, to begin their lives again, to even forget what had happened, and when they had forgotten, when they were able to have a good night’s sleep with dreams free from Vampires, that was when Isabella would strike.

She knew Van Helsing would come after her eventually and she would be ready for him, but he would take time to find her and until he did she would spend this time with Nicolae.

So Isabella with Nicolae at her side joined the battle at Gettysburg and fought with the Army of the Potomac under General Meade. A woman in this army was not such a strange occurrence; there were many women fighting under the guise of being men.

The battle of Gettysburg which the confederacy was winning changed its direction, as the union on the second day fought back ferociously, thereby winning the battle. This was surprising to everyone apart from Isabella and Nicolae. Isabella and Nicolae stayed with the Army of the Potomac for the duration of the war. They witnessed the New York draft riots and eventually they witnessed the surrender of the confederacy.

After the war was over the pair travelled out west. They followed so many other veterans who had been involved in the war, whose homes had been destroyed and who had no other place to go. Isabella loved the lawlessness of the west. There were still marshals and sheriffs and courts and trials but they were not imposing and were often killers themselves. The appearance of law, as Isabella had learnt, far too often meant that law neither existed nor was enforced. The truth was that the west was far too big a place to govern and no one really wanted to tame its wildness, not yet, anyway.

Isabella was sick of covering up her long raven hair under an army cap. She had had enough of tents and walking everywhere. She wanted to get back into her beautiful elegant dresses again; she wanted to return to her grandiose lifestyle that she had become so accustomed to having.

Rich women and their husbands did not choose to travel out west—usually only gamblers and reprobates did. As Isabella did not want to be thought as a reprobate she decided to let people think that she was a gambler, and judging by her clothes, a very successful one.

Isabella had spent the last years travelling through Kansas, Okalahoma and Colorado. She spent her days sleeping in her hotel room and she spent her nights looking for food and occasionally playing poker. She had acquired quite a competent amount of skill. Seeing into the minds of her fellow gamblers was quite an advantage. Isabella and Nicolae had stayed in Dodge City for almost a year when a new assistant marshal had been appointed in the city. Isabella had only had a few brief glimpses of him, but she sensed she would have trouble with him and she had no tolerance for anyone wanting to disrupt the contentment that she had achieved in her new life with Nicolae.

Isabella was sitting in the corner of the Comique saloon with her back to the wall. She enjoyed playing poker; it appealed to her. Nicolae had learnt to deal Faro and was at another table. Isabella liked to observe the goings on of these saloons; she had never seen anything like the cow towns in any part of the world. They were dens of inequity and Isabella relished being part of them.

A storm was starting up outside. The storms in Kansas through the summer were dry and dusty and stung the eyes of anyone who walked in them. They started without warning and could often result in a tornado. Isabella did not like tornadoes; they were too powerful for her, though she would try and control them as much as she could.

Isabella sat in the Comique, Nicolae dealing Faro just across from her. The wind was gathering up outside and the candles were flickering in the saloon. She was trying to control the storm but as she was inside she did not really care that it got out of her control. She started to hear the footsteps of a man approaching the open entrance of the saloon. The reason this man had caught Isabella’s awareness was because every few steps were interrupted by his own coughs.

He turned to come inside and Isabella watched him. He was quite striking, and he was obviously ill. His skin was as pale as Isabella had ever seen on a human. He had clear blue eyes that shone from across the room. His lips were blood-red like a Vampire and his hair was brown, but the Kansas sun had dusted it with blonde. He was dressed in fine clothes and had the elegant deportment of a gentleman. He looked very out of place in the saloon. Isabella with all her finery also looked out of place, so they were a perfect match. She looked him over wondering what his story was, why he was out there. He had the look of another time about him. Isabella could see him living twenty years before he did, she could see him sitting on the porch of a grand southern mansion surveying his land, not thinking about the darkness that was to come in the shape of war. He was a remnant of another world that the war had ended forever.

Isabella continued watching him as he approached the bar. He signalled to the bartender to get him a drink. The bartender did so; he poured him a shot of whiskey and then went to take away the bottle. The man grabbed the bottle before he could take it and took the shot glass and bottle with him, laying a few coins for the bottle on the bar. He looked over at the Faro table and saw Nicolae dealing there. He then caught Isabella’s glance. She smiled at him and he returned her smile and tipped his hat out of courtesy.

The man then started towards the poker table. Nicolae was watching the interaction between the pair. Isabella knew he was and she quickly broke her glance with this man and gave a reassuring glance to Nicolae. Not that she needed to, Nicolae knew she loved him and he was never jealous, a quality he had inherited from his ancestor of the same name. The man approached Isabella and asked.

“Would you mind if I sat in that chair?” he asked, motioning to Isabella‘s seat.

“I can’t say that I mind but that does not mean that I will give you this seat.” Isabella answered.

“I would be eternally grateful if you did.”

“Eternally grateful? All right, if you tell me why?” Isabella asked out of curiosity. The man pulled Isabella’s new seat out for her to sit down.

“Gentlemen in my profession like to sit with their backs to the wall.”

“Why?” Isabella was now slightly intrigued.

“In these volatile times, gunfighters, and poker players such as myself, should always sit with their backs to the wall. So they can see any men who are likely to shoot them before they do. If Bill Hickok had followed this rule, the events of last month in Deadwood would never have happened.”

“So you are not very brave,” Isabella said, mocking him slightly.

“No. I just want to hold on to my life as long as I can.” The man coughed again, he lifted a handkerchief to his lips and Isabella noticed a few spots of blood on the white linen cloth, she also observed the initial H was embroidered into the corner. Isabella could smell death biting at his heels but he was fighting it. He would not let go of this world until he was entirely sick of it.

“I would never have suspected that a man in your condition would be so determined to hold on to your life.” The man was slightly insulted by this remark and Isabella could tell her words had hurt him. She tried to take it back or at least give her words another context. “What I mean to say is that a man who is in your profession is not the type to worry about getting shot in the back of the head …that is surely just an occupational hazard.” The man smiled at Isabella.

“You didn’t mean that, but thank you for extending me the courtesy of suggesting that you did,” he said and extended out his hand to Isabella, “Tom McKey.”

Isabella took his hand and said, “Isabella Hawthorne.”

“Very pleased to meet you, Miss Hawthorne.”

“Likewise.” At this moment another man came into the Comique. He approached Tom and said.

“Tom, how are you; I heard you were feeling poorly?”

“Nonsense, Wyatt, I am the picture of health.” He paused mid-sentence to cough again. “I never felt better.”

Wyatt turned and walked away. He went over to the bar and started to drink shot after shot of whisky. He, unlike Tom, as Isabella was soon to find out, could not hold his liquor. After about an hour Isabella and Tom were still playing poker. But Wyatt was drunk and as a consequence, bad spirited—he seemed to be spoiling for a fight. He was watching Isabella intensely, but she chose to ignore him. She could handle him if he tried anything and would be happy to dispatch him given the opportunity. He poured out one more shot of whiskey and drank it back before coming over to stand beside Tom.

“How is the little lady doing?” Wyatt asked Tom. Isabella was not one to tolerate being referred to as a little lady. She threw him a supercilious look. Nicolae, who was listening intently to all that was going on, decided to stop dealing Faro and watch Isabella. He loved to watch her when her temper was about to break. He went over to the bar and started to watch the events unfold. If Isabella was to snap he wanted to have a ringside seat. He sat on the stool at the bar looking over at her… watching, smiling, content to wait the few moments until she would blow her very short fuse.

“The lady…” Tom recapitulated, “is doing very well, as I suspect the lady always does.” Tom smiled at Isabella as he tossed in his hand into the centre of the table. Isabella leaned forward to pull her winnings over to her side of the table. Isabella had been winning all night and the two other poker players were starting to get suspicious.