Vengeance of Dracula

By James Mascia

Their names are immortal: Dracula, Frankenstein's Monster, The Mummy. 

Now, together for the first time, we see these three classic monsters battling each other for their very existences. 

When Van Helsing gets reports of vampire attacks in Turin, he discovers that there is more going on their than he realizes. Soon he is not only after a vampire, but also a mummy hell-bent on resurrecting its lost queen. But the resurrection spell raises more than just a pharaoh of old, it brings life back to an old, familiar foe: Count Dracula. 

The vampire wants revenge on the man who slain him, and he is willing to do anything to get it. To complicate matters, there is a large brute terrorizing the city, who is being hunted by its creator, Dr. Frankenstein. This monster, wanting little more than to be left alone, goes on a killing spree that draws the attention of not only Van Helsing, but of his monstrous foes as well. 

Who will survive the encounter when these three monsters finally meet? And will the citor leave anyone alive when they win?

This is the monster movie you never knew you wanted. 

Dracula vs. Frankenstein's Monster vs. The Mummy!

Whoever wins, we lose.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Mascia
• Release date: Aug 2, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386396819

Book preview

JAMES MASCIA

Dren Production No Words Small

Dren Productions © 2018

Published by Dren Productions LLC

First edition ©2018

Published in the United States of America

Copyright 2017 - 2018 by James Mascia at Dren Productions LLC

Published in the United States of America

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations for reviews.

The characters and events written about in this book are completely fictional. Any resemblance between the characters and persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

PART I

RETURN TO THE LIVING

PROLOGUE

Luxor, Egypt – October 1897

Five months and nothing. He was out of time and money and he had nothing to show for it but a couple of clay pots and a few scraps of papyrus.

Sweaty and covered in dust, he returned to the tent, also considered the command center, and poured a stream of water straight from the canteen into his parched mouth. He savored it, as his desert-dried tongue seemed to plump up as it absorbed the liquid sustenance. No matter how much he drank though, it never seemed to be enough in this heat.

He looked down at his survey map. He was sure that this site held one of the ancient tombs. Yet, they’d turned up next to nothing. If some great pharaoh was buried here, the tomb had either been buried deep in the ever-shifting desert sands, or he had been removed long, long ago. 

Now, with his funds as dry as the desert sand, he had no choice but to tuck his tail between his legs and head for home. The museum had expected him to bring home a boatload of precious artifacts, and he would reluctantly inform them that their money had been wasted on a foolish crusade.

He glanced at the letter he’d received from Turin two days before, addressed simply to Professore Rossetti—his orders to return home immediately and cease his activities. 

Ubaid, he called for his servant—a wiry boy who barely stood four feet tall.

The boy ran to him, eager to please, knowing if he did a good job there would be a reward. Rossetti didn’t have the heart to tell the boy he hadn’t any more trinkets to give him either. Ubaid smiled up at him with his dried, cracked lips and crooked teeth, Yessir. He always spoke as if the phrase were one word.

He handed the boy the canteen. Please fill this for me. And make sure you drink some.

Yessir! the boy excitedly exited the tent, the canteen swinging behind him as he held the strap.

Rossetti smiled. As far as he knew, Ubaid had no one here. When he left, Rossetti had half a mind to take the boy back to Italy with him. He couldn’t leave him to fend for himself. He would be eaten alive by the jackals who roamed the streets of Cairo—though, he had to admit that Rome probably wasn’t much better. At least there, the boy would have guidance and he would ensure he had proper schooling.

Of course, that would also mean that he had the money to send him to one. Unless he found something soon, he would be ruined—disgraced.

While contemplating how much longer he could have these men dig before they grew wise to his situation, Ubaid rushed back into the tent. The boy panted frantically, and the front of his shirt was wet. He was also missing the canteen.

He was about to tell the boy to calm down, that he didn’t care he had spilled the water, but then noticed he was pointing down toward the dig site. Signor Rossetti! the boy burst with excitement. They’ve found it!

Rossetti rushed past the boy, into the hot sun once again, his thirst forgotten. He saw the men down in the large rectangular pit they’d dug out over the last several months, crowded around one spot. All work had ceased.

He stood for a moment watching the men, both relieved and  apprehensive. He couldn’t believe that after all this time they’d finally discovered something, but wondered if whatever they’d uncovered would be worthy of exhibition.

Ubaid, fetch my lantern, he called, then began descending the ladder into the pit.

In the shadow of the nearly straight pit walls, Rossetti felt relief from the hot sun. The further he went, the cooler it seemed to get. He reached the bottom and strolled over to the gathered workers. He pushed through them to the front, to see the sight they all stared at.

An arch had been unearthed—only the top meter or so, but enough that the entrance of a cavern was now visible. He knelt, wiping his hand along the arch. Sand fell from where he touched, revealing several symbols.

Rossetti had studied ancient Egypt for years. The symbols he was looking at weren’t typical Egyptian hieroglyphics. These were different, carved straight from the stone and appearing to be weapons. As he uncovered more of the symbols, the head of a god became visible.

One of the men behind him gasped and backed away, yelling about something. He’d only caught a couple of words, but only one that mattered.

Set.

He was familiar with the ancient myths. Set was the god of chaos and disorder—the god of violence. While his men were wary of what they’d uncovered, it only made Rossetti wonder who in their right mind would invoke the power of this god on a tomb. Normally, tombs were protected by Anubis, or sometimes Ra. To have Set was highly unusual. He could only recall one such tomb to have pictures of Set inside-the tomb of Thutmose III, only uncovered recently. It made him wonder if this might be connected to that place.

However, that would be for someone else to scratch their head over. All he was concerned with at that moment was finding something of value so that the museum would be satisfied that this dig wasn’t a waste of time.

Ubaid tapped him on the shoulder. He grabbed the lantern from the boy and lifted the glass. Striking a match, he lit the wick and stuck the lantern a few inches into the dark hole beneath the arch.

He wouldn’t see much, but he could tell that it was mostly empty on the inside. There was just enough room beneath the arch for him to slide down and search around inside.

I’ll need a couple of volunteers, he announced.

Not one of his workers stepped further.

If anything, the front row of men took a step away. Superstitious fools.

He turned to the boy, still standing next to him, though a little stiffer than usual. How about you, Ubaid? Feel like exploring a tomb?

He nodded a little too quickly. Yessir.

Rossetti shook his head. You don’t have to if you’re too afraid.

This time, Ubaid shook his head. No. I go with you.

Rossetti smiled, Great, kid. Hold the lantern and hand it down to me after I slide inside.

He handed the thin boy the lantern and then swung his legs under the archway. He hesitated a moment, gazing for a second at the image of Set, then slid down the sandy slope into the darkness below.

He fell three meters before he landed on more sand. As he stood, the sand spilling off his pants, he held up the lantern, lighting up the cavern-like space.

The first thing Rossetti noticed was the entrance lacked a door, or a protective stone. At first glance, there was no evidence one had ever been there. Either it had been removed a long time ago, which would mean that this place had been raided of its treasures millennia ago or more, or they had never bothered to protect this place from such raiders, in which case that would mean there was nothing here worth protecting.

With a grunt, Ubaid slid into his leg from behind. He ignored the boy’s apologies and stepped further into the chamber. There had to be something more here, other than an empty archway.

The lantern’s glow caught the columns on either side of them. If they hadn’t just been uncovered after months of digging, he would swear that they were newly constructed. When this place had been buried in the sand, it seemed that it had been perfectly preserved.

As he trod further into the space, he found how true his assumptions were. The hieroglyphics on the chamber walls were clear and easy to read. He would have to have a team come through to translate them.

Deeper he went, his sphere of light shifting along the room, causing each shadow to eerily move along the walls. A chill filled his body. He hadn’t realized how cool it was inside this chamber.

Rossetti stopped as the lantern shone on an opening at the end of the chamber and what could only be descending steps. This hadn’t been totally unexpected, there was usually an antechamber before one reached the real prizes.

Turning, he checked on Ubaid, who was standing about a meter behind him, looking nervously at the stairs. He was shaking, and at first Rossetti thought it might be the cold air, but then he saw the small puddle forming in the sand at the boy’s feet.

Setting the lantern down, Rossetti knelt, and put a hand on his arm. The boy’s skin felt like ice.

He felt sorry for him, and didn’t want to cause anymore terror. The boy had been brave enough to venture in, but he wasn’t going to force him to go any further. Go back out, he ordered.

The boy didn’t move. He stared blankly ahead, as if not seeing or hearing Rossetti at all. He continued to shake, but didn’t make a sound.

He glanced over his shoulder before facing the boy again. I have to go in and look around. I will not think less of you if you were to leave. Do you understand?

The boy gave only the slightest nod, but made no other movement. He was frozen to the spot—paralyzed by fear, Rossetti assumed.

He cared for the boy, but he wasn’t going to let his fear stop him now. He stood and picked up his lantern, descending the stairs.

Rossetti had expected the staircase to go down deep into the Earth, and was surprised when it ended after only three meters. The staircase opened into a much larger chamber, one with a high ceiling and long rows of columns.

Sweeping the lantern back and forth, he peered around the dark space. As the light passed over a statue, he froze. Its golden surface reflected the dim lamplight, despite being covered by a thin sheen of dust. The statue had to be at least six meters tall, reaching to just centimeters from the ceiling. Its face stared down at Rossetti as if it knew he was an intruder.

Rossetti stared up at the golden deity in awe as he whispered, This is no tomb.

It couldn’t have been a tomb as he’d originally surmised. The statue that big was meant for worship. Checking the rest of the room, he saw an altar as well as scrolls that were very likely religious texts. No, this wasn’t a tomb.

It’s a temple, he said, awestruck.

A shriek pierced his eardrums, causing Rossetti to drop his lantern. The flame went out, plunging the room into darkness.

Panicked, he knelt and felt around the floor for the dropped lantern, all the while the scream grew louder. His fingers swept back and forth across the sandstone floor until it gripped a metal handle.

He scooped it up and felt for the door. He opened it, then reached into his pocket for a match. Striking it, he lit the lantern and the faint orange glow flickered to life, lighting the chamber in a dim light.

He turned swung the lantern around toward the source of the shriek. Standing a few meters away was Ubaid, staring at the ground, screaming.

He ran to the boy. Ubaid, why did you follow me in here?

The boy didn’t look at him, but continued to wail at the ground.

What’s the matter, boy? Then he followed Ubaid’s gaze. A mummified corpse lay on the ground at the boy’s feet, one arm extended as if reaching for him. Its empty eye sockets stared at him with a cold, dark fury, making it look almost alive.

It... it moved, Ubaid whimpered.

Just your imagination, assured Rossetti.

Nonetheless, Rossetti pulled Ubaid away from the corpse, hiding the boy behind himself. Then he raised the lantern and gazed beyond the corpse. There was a sunken pit, only a few steps deep, and it was filled with bodies—all of them dried husks of the humans they had once been, picked clean by time.

Each of them wore similar clothing, old and tattered, but still recognizable as the robes of priests. And all dead, lying atop one another each and scattered on the floor were the curved blades of khopesh, which suggested one thing to Rossetti—this had been the site of a mass suicide.

He was wrong again it seemed. This was a tomb.

The bodies needed to be examined to determine the wounds were self-inflicted, and his theory would be proven true.

He scooped up the boy, barely paying attention to the wetness continuing to dribble down his legs, and he exited the chamber. He had an urgent message to send.

He was going to tell the Turin museum that he had found the first Temple of Set.

**********

Something watched Rossetti carry the boy out. It was alive after all these years. It could feel the life returning to its body with the fluids the boy had provided. It had lurched unexpectedly upon feeling the life blood—but, too soon, the life blood wasn’t enough. It had startled the boy, and had the other one not grabbed him, it would have been enough.

Now, it would have to wait. Soon there would be others with more liquids to fully bring it to life. Then it would awaken the Pharaoh.

CHAPTER 1

Turin, Italy – March 1898

The sun would be up in an hour and he’d finally be able to get some sleep. The clock read three minutes to five, at least that’s what it looked like—a thick fog had settled onto the streets making it tough to see anything.

Yawning, the officer continued his patrol. He’d only had another three nights of this before his punishment was complete. So, he’d been caught sleeping when he was supposed to be on duty. Was that any reason to give him two months of the midnight shift?

At least the nights were quiet in this part of the city. The patrol route was far from most of the taverns, so the rowdy crowd usually stayed away. No, the working-class people lived in this neighborhood, and they enjoyed a good night’s sleep.

Something he wished he was getting right about then.

His parade continued through the empty cobblestone streets, his footsteps echoing off the walls. It was a lonely existence this shift, and with nothing happening, time slowed to a crawl making six hours feel like twenty.

He stopped in the middle of the street, craning his neck. He swore he heard something. He stood, motionless, not even breathing, to see if he would hear it again. Nothing. No sound other than a slight breeze. His imagination must have been playing tricks on him.

Continuing on his way, a chill ran through him, causing all the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. He stopped and swung around, sure there was someone behind him, but all he saw was a fog shrouded street.

Maybe it was a cat, prowling the night. Maybe it was a pigeon that hadn’t gotten the message that it too should be asleep. Or maybe it just was his imagination. He was tired, and his mind had been wandering often the last few nights.

Deciding it was nothing, he shrugged and began to turn and march away again, but then a moan broke the silence, sending the officer scrambling backward, nearly tripping over his own feet.

As he composed himself, he grabbed his nightstick, but held it at his side. There was no need to believe that this was anything other than a person in distress.

Hello? he called into the fog. Cautiously, he took a step towards the noise.

The noise came much louder and was much closer this time. The moan definitely came from a man, and it sounded like he was in pain.

Signor? Do you need assistance?

Silence.

He waited, his hand gripping his nightstick more tightly. That uneasy feeling began to fill him again. He could just walk away, but if someone was  hurt and he didn’t investigate it, he could find himself on punishment for a year—if he even still had a job.

He took several carefully placed steps back toward the source of the moan. Signor, if you can hear me, I am here to help you. Let me know where you are.

Silence.

He stopped again. He couldn’t see anything through the fog. There was no telling if the person who’d been moaning was still there. He’d call out once more and if he didn’t get a response, he would make his way back to the station and file a report. He’d be glad to get off this street anyway.

Is anybody—AHH!

A hand came down on his shoulder and he spun around on his assailant, nightstick already in mid-swing.

Whoa, whoa, whoa! Lorenzo, it’s just me!

His arm stopped only inches from the man’s face. Breathing a sigh of relief, he stammered, Jesus, Matteo, you nearly put me in the grave.

Matteo wore a uniform identical to his own. It was only his recognizing that uniform that had stopped Lorenzo from clubbing him with the nightstick. He stared at the man, breathing heavily.

What’s got you so jumpy, buddy?

Lorenzo grunted. As if he didn’t know. Matteo would be telling the story for weeks at the station of how he’d managed to scare the wits out of him. But he wasn’t going to going to give him the satisfaction of saying he’d been frightened.

Instead, Lorenzo stuck his nightstick back into his belt and began walking his rounds again. Just go. I have a patrol to finish.

Matteo wasn’t going to be deterred though. He kept pace with the angry officer. Chief sent me out to bring you in. He wants to brief us on something.

Lorenzo kept walking, ignoring the man.

A hand fell on his shoulder again, stopping him. It sounds like something big. This might be your way off the night shift.

And if I leave my post because of some practical joke, I could end up having this duty permanently. No thank you. If the chief really wants to see me...

Another moan came from behind them, sending a chill up their spines. They both stopped, frozen to the spot.

Lorenzo, what was that? Matteo asked.

It took a moment to dawn on him that Matteo hadn’t made the noise. It hadn’t been a joke. There was someone out there in the fog. And he no longer sounded hurt. Now he sounded angry. The other thing that was different this time was that he could smell the rotten stink of an unclean mouth.

His hand instinctively reached for his nightstick as he slowly turned toward the sound, he didn’t know if he felt comforted or fearful that Matteo was doing the same.

A shadow loomed in the fog, towering over them. He still couldn’t see it clearly, but he was sure the man—if it even was a man—was at least seven feet tall.

Signor, he said in a voice he was sure was too meek to be commanding, please back away or we will have to use force.

The figure didn’t move, but let out a low guttural growl that sounded like a wild animal.

Matteo was the first to move, he swung his nightstick at the man. He moved so fast, neither of them had seen anything. Two large hands shot out of the fog and gripped them both around their necks. Both Lorenzo and Matteo were lifted off the ground, their legs dangling uselessly as they tried to break free.

Lorenzo couldn’t breathe. His hands gripped the monstrous fingers wrapped around his throat. But the fingers wouldn’t budge.

He was lifted further into the air and he finally saw the man’s face. It was grotesque, looking more like rotting pieces of flesh. Was this giant also a leper? It snarled at him and then shouted something unintelligible with breath that stank of death.

Blackness filled in the edges of his vision as he desperately struggled for air. Then he felt the fingers tighten their grip. With several pops, the vertebrae in his neck snapped. Lorenzo’s body went limp and suddenly he was flying through air.

This must have been what it felt like when a soul left a body. It must have felt like floating on air. That’s what he thought until his limp body came crashing down onto the cobblestones. The monster-sized man had simply tossed him aside and was now thrashing Matteo.

The last thing he saw before the life left his body was one big foot crashing down on the stone next to his head.

CHAPTER 2

Three Nights Later

Before the carriage stopped, he’d hopped out the side door. The journey had taken longer than he’d anticipated and now he only had an hour until sunset. His cargo must be secured before then. He couldn’t take any chances.

Scratching the stubble on