Dracula: The Dark World Book VI

By S.C. Parris

The Phoenixes of the Nest have bided their time upon the World and finally move to see if the Vampires can be saved—by mixing the blood of Phoenixes with the bloodthirsty Creatures.

Victor Vonderheide has awakened to a remarkable difference. His heart beats and he shoots magical fyre from his fingertips. When not dodging the black fyre of a Phoenix that doesn’t agree with his new existence, he fights his urges for blood. Yet it is he the Head Phoenix wishes to lead the new breed. But Victor, forced to face his new state in a fast-changing World, is still grieving the loss of his creator. He blames the Vampire now rumored to have taken Xavier’s place as King.

Alexandria Stone has warmed to her power. She is adept at sending the red light toward her enemies, controlling their blood at her leisure. Yet with news that the Phoenixes search for them, there is the fear that she won’t be able to keep at bay the winged beings’ powerful magic. But there is someone from her past who may be able to help—and they have a familiar magical book to assist her. Time is running out—the Phoenixes close in, their fyre burning everything it touches. To make matters worse, a familiar face with terrifying new power appears, threatening to end the Vampires’ existence as they know it.

It’s a race to learn the truth of her power and defend the Dark World—and all Creatures within it—before the Phoenixes destroy everything Dracula has built.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Permuted
• Release date: Feb 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9781637582831

Book preview

Chapter One

Tremor the Great

The old figure hidden in his cave shuddered under the weight of the air, for it was different, very much so. Though he’d shuddered whenever things changed in the World, a strained gasp left him now. His shoulders buckled under the weight he could no longer bear, and he sat up atop the old, thin sheet, the only thing keeping his delicate dark skin from gracing the hard -stone slab he’d rested on for many, m any y ears.

A trembling sigh left his old, tired lungs.

The World was different, oh how it had changed, yes, but he had not been able to stand it, especially when Eleanor Black and her Creatures flourished. It had been awful back when the Vampires and Lycans first roamed the Earth. He had been weakened greatly by their stifling energy, but it did not compare to the horrible energy that had been Eleanor’s, indeed.

It was why he slept as often as he could, lost in dreams of a time the World was not dark, a time the World was free, magic brightening the air…. How quickly it had all changed, and with little warning, indeed.

It was true, he and the others had no idea what the consequences would be if ever someone got the idea to mate with the newly created humans, but no one would ever have guessed they would birth monsters.

The guilt pressed upon his large heart as it often did when he thought of such troubling times, but he let it sit there, pressing into the muscle, washing over him—his penance for his hand in the aberrations’ and beasts’ surge on the World.

A muffled sound issued from overhead. He blinked at the stone ceiling, figuring it merely the wind, but then the sound of scattered footsteps thundered above him.

Someone is here. But who?

Mind racing on just who on Earth would dare reach his secluded tomb, he stiffened atop the stone slab as the voices trailed from the ceiling, moving to the tunnel hidden beyond a precariously placed boulder.

He waited, eyes wide in the dark as the figures drew closer, reaching the large circular stone that was his entrance—and his exit—from this miserable place. He strained his hearing beyond his shoulder-length gray hair and listened for any sound beyond footsteps. Indeed, there were voices, but they came through as far away, though he knew the beings stood just behind the stone.

Are we sure this is where he lives? a faint voice full of uncertainty said.

He dared to rise from the stone. He stood to his full height and squared his shoulders as the voices continued beyond it:

This is where the Dragon left us, a deeper voice said. Look there, there’s air at the bottom corners.

Gasps of assent drifted through those small pockets of air, and he pressed his bare feet against the dirty stone floor, grief gone from his heart: fear and anticipation now claimed it.

He kept his gaze on the round stone door as it was rolled an inch to the left and then settled once more in its place, blocking the tunnel from view. Determined Creatures, he thought, swallowing a grand desire to scream.

Out of the way, we’ve no time for this! a slightly sniveling voice with a lingering hiss shouted next.

And as shuffled footsteps sounded, a grand warmth filled the small cave. He smelled the burning rock before he could realize what would happen next.

He was thrown off his feet, blasted back against his hard bed. Stars danced before his eyes as he blinked against the pain: it thundered through the back of his head. In the next second, shards of stone ripped against his face, splintering against the wall at his ears. The blaring heat died then, an arctic chill replaced it. He opened his eyes.

Eight shadowed figures took up the whole of the small cave. A slightly warmer air drifted from the long tunnel behind them. At the end of it he saw they’d successfully moved the doorway there as well.

The Creature just before him, wrapped in dirtied, blood-stained robes, held a white cane in a long-fingered hand. The Creature’s black hair was long as it fell behind his back, his black eyes seedy through the dark. The cane began to glow a brilliant color, and the large pointed ears revealed themselves behind the curtain of black hair.

An Elf.

Squinting and shielding his sensitive eyes from the light, he spoke his first words in less than a year:

Who, and the word was soft as it left his lips, a whistle, really. Licking his lips, he tried again, Who are you, Creatures? But as he asked this, the weapons in their hands began to glow as well, and he could see their faces clearly:

The scared gazes of Enchanters reached him first behind the Elf, and a gasp left him as he eyed the Vampires on either side of the room. One held a glowing crossbow in hand, the other to the Elf’s left, held a sword in hand, and a woman glowing faintly with a red light stood beside the Creature with the sword. A Vampire stood behind the Elf as well, he noticed lastly, holding a sword made of black metal.

He stood from his bed once more. He stared down at the Creatures in disbelief as the Elf said, We are the Order of the Dragon, your Greatness, Tremor the Ancient Elder. And we were sent here by Evert the Ancient Elder to know what must be done.

Tremor exhaled a great breath that blew the Elf’s hair off his shoulders. Bother, he whispered to himself. If you Vampires are still alive, I take it the Goblet of Existence did not work as it was meant to.

The Elf shook his head curtly. But we were wondering just how that could be, he said after a moment of silence.

How that could—? he breathed, realizing they thought he had the answer, he, who had rested within these stone walls for centuries, immobile with grief for what he could not stop. He scoffed under the Creatures’ gazes. I know nothing.

They shifted their footing uncertainly atop the dirt-covered stone. Come again, the Vampire who held a black glowing sword behind the Elf said in disbelief, you know nothing?

It is what I said, Vampire, he whispered, I know nothing of what is beyond these walls.

So what, another Vampire said, this one holding his crossbow tight, you’ve been locked away…on purpose? You didn’t go out and see the World because what…because you are too weak to do so?

Tremor regarded this Vampire again closely, the cold black eyes, the long black hair, wavy as it fell around his shoulders, and in the white light of his weapon, Tremor thought the Vampire looked haunted: the white light never bounced off his eyes giving them any semblance of life. He stared harder still, wondering what possessed the cold Creature to move, to drink, to feed off the flesh and blood of those blessed with true life….

The Vampire took a step forward in the dark cave, and the Elf threw out an arm to keep him at bay. Well…Creature? the Vampire asked, ignoring the Elf’s tattered sleeve, the arm that trembled beneath it. What say you?

He exhaled, feeling the weight of the World, his brothers’ energy pressing harder atop his shoulders, and he addressed the Elf, alone. I say I held this World up on my back when my brothers flew for the sky. I say I moved to kill my blood and kin when they threatened and murdered and ruined our very way of life!

He was surprised when, against the impressive boom of his voice, the Vampire spoke: "But since then you have lain here in your…seclusion, twiddling your thumbs while the madness descends over all, and now that we—the Creatures bidden to Dracula’s bloody hand—are here, you wish to feign importance? You wish to feel as though you’ve accomplished it all?"

Christopher! the Elf whispered harshly, but Tremor could stare nowhere else now:

The Vampire’s hardened black eyes were unyielding in their sadness, their despair. His brow was furrowed with his anger, his lips curled into a snarl. And Tremor was reminded, in the cruelest of ways, just what the thing that called itself Dracula looked like when it showed itself to him those ages ago.

Monstrous, desperate to resist its urges….

And when it could talk…we were doomed, then.

They were still monsters, no matter their faces, he reminded himself, the coldness of the Vampires’ wind in the room swarming around him, thickening, freezing, devoid of life—

You are correct, Vampire, Tremor said coldly, staring upon him, "Christopher, is your name? I did remain here, wrapped in my grief, my…inaction. I fancied myself weak, but in truth…I was tired. Tired of staring upon a darkened sky, tired of breathing in wretched air, tired of hearing the Guardians—what I understand you call Dragons—and the Protectors—what you call Giants—war with each other. Tired of the madness in the waters, the madness beneath the ground. They were gorgeous beings once, the Watchers of the Water, turned cold and cruel by the putrid air you Vampires cast over the land.

I could not bear the truth—that the World I knew was gone. So, I hid from it, yes. I kept myself from its coldness purposefully. I like to think in doing so, I protected myself from its effects—indeed, I feel as though dear Equis has met his end.

The Elf still held out a hand to keep Christopher at bay, though the Vampire had long since slunk back near the broken doorway, his gaze, somehow, colder within his weapon’s light.

Yes, the female Enchanter said to everyone’s surprise, then, Equis Equinox has died. Killed by a Phoenix.

He blinked. Oh, mistress of the enchanting arts, you must not trick my poor heart. No Phoenix would kill one of their own. Surely you jest…. He waved a hand dismissively though her dark eyes did not waver from his own; they glistened with tears.

But I am not. They killed him—if Philistia Mastcourt were here, she would say the very same! she went on.

The ripple of power went through him with the name, but he pushed it down, not desiring to give any more Creatures news that he truly did still live…. Philistia Mastcourt? he breathed. Where did you hear that name?

Hear that name?! I know that name! We all met her! She saved Xavier Delacroix’s arse multiple times! the woman yelled.

At the name, a Vampire to the back of the room let out a snarl, bringing all eyes to him. At the attention, he sheathed his sword, and said quietly, Do not say that name around me, Aurora.

Aurora hesitated, mouth opening and closing as though deciding just what was best, before the words, Very well, Christian, left her lips.

Tremor rolled his eyes, power burning in his gut, unable to be contained, but he must hold on, he must keep it from spilling out…. Returning his attention to the matter at hand, he cleared his throat, gaining their attention. Who is this Xavier Delacroix, and why would Philistia save him many a time? he asked, eager for some real answers. Just what on Earth happened while I remained behind these walls?

He is…was…the former King of All Creatures, the green-eyed Vampire who had stood quite close to Aurora responded. She saw fit to aid him, even though it was against Equis’s wishes as we understand it.

She would never— he began when the dark-skinned Enchanter said from most near the doorway:

Color me impatient, your Greatness, but there are quite a lot of things you have missed locked up here in your…home while the World was torn asunder. We, all of us, have killed, have betrayed, have…obeyed Dracula’s wishes to stand here—alive while most other beings we know are dead. So please, spare us your ‘she would nevers’ and ‘I know nothings.’ We are here to gain your assistance so do your duty as we all have, and respectfully, give it.

All Creatures stared upon the man in wonder, and Tremor noticed for the first time the golden chain that hung around the man’s neck. Stepping forward, past the Creatures that eyed him with fear and awe now, he reached out a dark-skinned, long-fingered hand and pulled the chain up until the white gem showed itself.

He felt, vaguely, that it should have glowed, this medallion, but it did not. It remained dull within his fingers. And then he let it fall, watched as it settled against the Enchanter’s dirtied, blood-splattered robes.

Yes, Enchanter, he thought; the black eyes stared up at him in terror, you understand the fear we had to live with when the skies turned black and rage took over the hearts of all.

He understood the impatience, the urgency with which this Enchanter held himself. How he stood near the door, how he had remained quiet until the resolve at his back, in his heart, bade him speak if only to further along that which must be furthered.

He recognized himself in this dark-skinned Enchanter, felt his power flow through the blood, through the dark eyes so canvassed with water. You are right, Enchanter, he said after a time, and Tremor could feel all eyes upon his back and sides as he spoke, I have remained idle far too long. Where are my brothers? He turned to the woman Enchanter.

I…the Phoenixes? They are on the Earth. We understand they mean to kill the Vampires, she said though he could not ignore the uncertainty in her voice.

Of course, he breathed. Syran would move quickly now that he’d no reason to stay his hand.

The green-eyed Vampire turned to him. What shall we do…your Greatness?

Tremor felt it, then, the sudden change in the air…it was as if a powerful…being stood in the room, then, great in their power…their unyielding, familiar, power….

He caught the glimmer of the sword’s handle at the Vampire’s hip, remembered when it was forged with the magic—most forbidden magic—to fell the Vampires. He turned to this Vampire, his conviction in who the Creature was growing stronger the more he stared. You are Christian, yes? he asked.

Christian blinked upon him as if he weren’t sure he was being spoken to. I…am, he said at last. His hand clasped tighter around the woman’s hand at his side as if for reassurance.

Why do you hold that sword, Vampire? Tremor asked next, the presence of power in the cave growing the more he focused on Christian.

I hold it, he said, because Dracula desired I have it.

Dracula? he whispered, brow furrowed. I see no Dracula, here.

The woman at Christian’s side stepped forward, and for the first time, Tremor noticed she wore the remnants of what was surely a gorgeous red dress, but the skirts had been ripped off, and her red and white lined bloomers were wet with melted snow and blood. He desired Christian have it, she whispered, fearful.

He exhaled cold air, unsure. So, he is dead?

The woman nodded, her wavy brown hair shaking around her heart-shaped face as she did so.

And he chose you, Christian, Tremor went on, as his successor.

Christian nodded. That is…what we have come to believe…your Greatness.

How incredible, Tremor whispered.

I’m sorry, what’s incredible? the green-eyed Vampire asked.

It is just…what Dracula desired…has not come to pass. If you Creatures—if you, Christian—drank from the Goblet as you say you did, then you are his replacement. But why did the Goblet not work? he asked, more to himself than the room.

We do not know, the large Vampire with the black sword said, a tinge of anger to his voice. But we really don’t want to stand here for much longer, targets at our chests, Creature. If you are as Great as everyone says you are, you’ll help us!

Do not fret, Vampire, he told him, no magic can penetrate the fortress I have built around this place—

And yet Eleanor Black paid you a visit all the same, didn’t she? You spilled your story to her willingly, it seems, the dark Enchanter near the doorway said.

He sighed. She is a crafty Creature—

What makes you think the bloody birds won’t find us just as easily? the angry Vampire said next.

The Creatures nodded in agreement, fear full on their faces. And then, without warning, a red light began to overcome the glow of their weapons and Tremor eyed its origin.

The woman next to Christian was shining vibrantly, her irises red. Before anyone could say a thing, Tremor asked, Why do you glow with the light of Dracula’s blood?

She opened her mouth, eyeing Christian for reassurance, and when he nodded, she looked back upon Tremor and said, I am his granddaughter.

Oh, he breathed, running a hand along his neck, not understanding how it could be possible. An abomination…with child. He never thought it possible the Vampires could have children of their own in the traditional sense. He had once assumed they’d only been able to turn their family by feeding them their blood. A spell, I presume?

The female Enchanter stepped into his line of sight, blocking the glowing woman from view. A complicated, unnecessary spell, I assure you, she said. When he came to me with his plan, to birth a child, I was, understandably, horrified. Here was Dracula, King of these…creations he’d protected with his cursed blood, asking an Enchanter to grant him the ability to have children.

At least you were asked, the dark Enchanter said bitterly from the doorway.

It was hardly a choice, Peroneous, she snapped. He could have easily torn me in two—

But he didn’t, Peroneous interjected rudely, a hand at his midsection.

He might as well have! she shouted in surprising anger. I’ve been but a ghost since I’ve crossed paths with that…monster, forced to do his bidding, t-to keep Alexandria’s mother human so that Dracula could not use her for his plans—

Alexandria had stepped up to the woman, placed a hand on her shoulder, and spun her around, stilling her words mid-speech. How—how were you able to keep my mother human? she asked.

A mix of fear, determination, and decidedly dark spells courtesy of those at Shadowhall, Aurora answered quietly.

Tremor licked his lips, tired of the cold about him. The miserable, unnecessary cold. What is this Shadowhall?

All Creatures eyed him, but it was Peroneous that answered with, Created after the Vampires and Lycans were birthed, Shadowhall is where the Enchanters brave enough, or mad enough, go to train in the darker enchanting arts in order—once upon a time—to kill the Vampires, kill the Lycans. Though now, I understand its goals have changed…I have never been, myself, but one hears rumors….

Yes? Go on, the green-eyed Vampire said.

Well, Peroneous went on, it is known that Shadowhall’s Enchanters have an appreciation for the darker workings of the mind, of magic. I heard they had, some of them in select Guilds, mind you, sided with Eleanor Black and her Creatures.

But the Elite Creatures are all dead, the green-eyed Vampire replied. Surely. Now that Eleanor and—yes, well—there can’t be any more of them—her Creatures. The sky is…clearer, now.

The silence that pressed against his eardrums was painful, but Tremor quickly dispelled it, so used to the silence, to the whistle of time as it passed by. Now it was all, painfully, rudely, disrupted by a World he had not known in quite some time. How quickly things change….

Clearing his throat, he said, If Shadowhall’s Enchanters corrupted the sacred art, then the Elves must be furious—I wonder, indeed, how Equis felt regarding this…darker magic, you Creatures mention.

We don’t know, the woman Enchanter said.

Tremor eyed her in the red glow about the small cave. The Vampire at the woman’s back was still staring upon her as though she wished her dead, and the Enchanter, herself, was looking at the ground, the weight of untold secrets weighing on her head.

There is much, he said next, bringing her gaze around, it seems we don’t know. No matter, you are all, indeed, special Creatures, and if you say the Phoenixes are to hunt you down, I shall not dismiss it. There is somewhere we can go, but it shall not hold all of you, unfortunately—

What is it?

Why can it not hold us?

Where is this place?

He raised a hand, commanding silence, waiting calmly as he sought it, and when at last the Creatures’ mouths closed, he offered his tongue:

There is a place beneath the waters most dark, we can hold up there while we figure out what best to do.

Their gazes said it all: fear darkened their eyes, furrowed their brows with great concern, but he fought against the fear bubbling in his own chest, the confusion as well, for what on Earth was happening to the World?

It was not long before he felt it: a wave of sickening dread.

What is that…madness? he whispered as it drew closer, how he could feel it on the air, the tendrils and claws of darkness as they pressed against his neck and back, burrowing their way through his thin, dirtied, white robes.

It cannot be, Christopher said from beside the doorway. Tremor turned to him, seeing the look of marked fear upon the bedraggled face. Christopher held the crossbow uncertainly in his strong hands, pointing a smoky arrow at the long, dark tunnel that stretched before them.

What? he whispered, unsure just what that darkness was, for it had grown considerably in size, pressing against his every sense. Somehow anger was beginning to form at the back of his throat in the form of a spell. A spell primed to rip through his lips and ascend on the strange, dread-filled air—

All Creatures stepped in front of him, their gazes on the broken doorway, their weapons raised, prepared to be used.

Creatures, he roared despite the burning spell at the back of his throat, I demand you tell me—what is this madness?

Figures appeared at the entrance of the tunnel. Their frayed cloaks swayed around their midsections and backs as they advanced.

Tremor could see no weapons in the Creatures’ hands, indeed, they simply held up their fists, prepared to use them, but Tremor thought they needn’t anything else—their dread was power enough. How it slid through the air as though it belonged, as though hungry, pressing against his skin, his very lungs as he breathed it in, unsure what more to do.

The first Creature drew level with the great chunk of rock near the shattered entrance and Tremor narrowed his gaze. The man’s eyes were red, his skin pale, the two fangs at the front of his mouth glistened in the dark, glowing against the Order’s raised weapons.

But he did not get far before Aleister moved, slashing his glowing sword against the approaching Creature’s middle. He moved swiftly forward as others took its place.

Tremor watched in bemusement as the Order of the Dragon released their spells and arrows to fell the Creatures, many of whom had taken to turning into Lycans in the small tunnel. Their large frames pressed against the stone, causing it to crack where their furred bodies touched it.

These Lyans were taken down with loud roars from their long, blood-stained snouts by Aleister’s sword.

They had made it halfway through the tunnel now, successfully keeping the strange Creatures at bay, when the stone above Tremor’s head began to groan. Rocks crumbled where the stone broke with the walls on all sides, and a curse left his thin lips as the ceiling was pulled away by incredibly large, tan hands.

The wind pressed against him, but it was not as fresh as he desired it be. It stunk with the darkness and dread the strange Creatures carried with them.

He looked up at the dark sky. The immense black eyes of the Giant peered down at him in bemusement.

Protector! he roared over the howl of wind, the strange darkness the Creatures—many of whom were flying about the Giant’s head—exuded. Do your duty! Protect the sacred!

But it merely stared down at him as though confused. It was not until two Creatures landed on either massive shoulder that the Giant did anything at all.

They whispered words he could not catch over the howl of the wind, and then the Giant lifted a hand, pressing it down through the night sky. The large eyes were upon the Creatures who had made it to the entrance of the tunnel. The wake of bodies in their midst hid the stone floor from view.

Creatures! he called, but the howl of the wind was far too loud. The Giant’s hand wrapped around his long body, squeezing it tight. He groaned his pain as his feet left ground; the Giant pulled him to its bare, tan chest, allowing him to see, through his windswept hair, the World at last.

The mountains to the north, what was left of Merriwall, were far less than what he remembered. A large chunk of the vast city lay in ruin, and even he could see the large plume of smoke that filled the dark sky.

They are weakened! Greatly! They aren’t the same as before! a familiar voice shouted from somewhere below.

He tore his gaze from the sky to eye the ground. The Order had left the tunnel and now ascended into the sky, chasing after the remaining darkly cloaked Creatures with admirable determination. He watched as they weaved past each other, their focus solely on the tattered cloaks.

He watched, struggling for breath within the Giant’s large hand as Aurora roared, throwing forth the hand that held a small, glowing rod. A brilliant wave of silky white light left it and slammed into several darkly cloaked Creatures. He watched in bemusement as the Creatures fell out of the sky. Aleister moved swiftly through the dark, sending his sword through a Creature’s midsection.

Blood fell from the wounds, and a great roar vibrated against his ears, sending a cold thrill of fear down his spine. Bloody hell, he whispered, voice lost in the screams around him. He eyed the large, winged mass venturing toward them through the dark. Guardians?

The winged mass became three as they approached, the plume of fire heating up the sky, and even from the distance Tremor could feel the heat against his skin.

Hoping desperately that the Dragons were their aide, he held his breath as they hovered before the Giant and strange Creatures. Aleister slashed the heads off two Vampire-Elites before turning to the largest Dragon, his voice carrying on the warm wind:

Worca! I thought you were gone!

Where would I go, Aleister? the large red Dragon said. Its large tail swished dangerously through the air. I vowed never to leave you for long.

Aye, Aleister said, you did vow. He waved his sword toward the Giant. Have you come to give your assistance?

The Dragon’s black eyes perused the Giant, and Tremor felt the gaze pass across him. A flicker of strange hope rose in his large heart. I came because the World was dying, she said. And these Elite Creatures are the disease.

Elite Creatures? Tremor thought, staring around at the tattered cloaks that had stilled in their bloodlust, though their gazes were still red in the dark.

Come then, an Elite on the Giant’s shoulder said. Tremor eyed her, her light blonde hair framing her face, giving it a feral edge, one that made her look more Lycan than Vampire. Give us your best, Dragon!

Tremor eyed Worca. Aleister flew out of the way as the three Dragons surged forward, and a sweltering heat boiled up as they neared.

He pressed against the rough fingers and squared his shoulders, prepared to take the flames, but they never did come.

The Elite had left the Giant’s shoulders and stirred through the air. The dread slapped against Tremor’s face as she moved. She waved her hands as the Dragons circled about her, their massive wings beating even more dread throughout the sky: The blast of blue light left her palms and hit a nearby Dragon squarely in a wing. Tremor watched as the great Creature let out a horrible scream, beating its other wing awkwardly as it dipped in the sky.

The Dragon gave one last screech of pain before it dropped for good, its eyes closing as its good wing stopped beating at last.

Before it could reach the ground, the largest Dragon, Worca, had swept forward, blowing fire at the frantic Elite, hellbent on burning on her out of the dark sky. Its large wings cut the air most near Tremor’s face and the Giant let out an earth-shattering cry of what Tremor could only guess was alarm: it stumbled backward with its large, lumbering feet. Its large hands flew up as it attempted to avoid the Dragon’s wing scraping its chest.

And that was when it happened: the large fist loosened just enough for Tremor to let loose the spell that had been sitting in his throat.

With supreme concentration, he placed a large blue bubble of power around himself, covering him from head to toe, and with a shaking long-fingered hand, he pointed toward the nearest Elite, one that was not being chased by fire or a member of the Order, and closed his fingers into a fist.

The Creature clutched at his throat with surprise, his red eyes widening in terrified confusion, and then blood left the Creature’s lips as he, far too slowly for Tremor’s liking, bled from every orifice his body held.

Tremor watched with cold anger as the Creature fell out of the sky, for he had finally seen these strange Creatures’ power and knew there was no way he could remain entombed in his ignorance. Not when Dracula’s Chosen fought so valiantly to defend me, to defend what must be defended, he thought, staring through the blue film of his spell at the Members of the Order. Their weapons glowed brightly with every sword swung, with every spell screamed through the dark air.

One by one the Elite Creatures fell out of the sky, and when at last three remained, their Giant as well, Tremor turned to them, feeling, with every surge of power that filled his veins what he had allowed to whither within him. And how amazing it felt.

Glaring upon the Giant, the three Elites that hovered uncertainly around him, he said, I know not what you…things are, but know this: if there are more of you, if there are thousands of you, I and the Order of the Dragon will destroy you. All of you. Take this as your warning you filthy vermin and go!

We can’t let them go! Christian shouted, flying to reach him. The Ares was blood-soaked in his grip, the glowing red woman not far behind.

He stared at this Vampire, admiring the anger in the red gaze. I grow tired of killing, Vampire, he said coldly. He spit the taste of death from his lips. Can it not rest, at least for this night? We have won, have we not? Killed more of them than they have even touched us.

But if we let them go then they’ll just drag more to us! he retorted angrily. We’ve fought these Creatures for months, we know how they work, Tremor! They must all be killed! He raised the sword in hand. Now!

The woman’s red light left her, reaching through the dark to envelope the three Elites that hovered in hesitation near the Giant’s head. Before Tremor could say a word, the Elites began to scream, their eyes wide in their unseen terror and pain. They clutched at their heads, some bent double, and the woman nodded at Christian. Without a word, the Vampire flew forward and slashed the heads off the Elites and cut them in half at the midsection until they all fell out of the sky, their screams no longer filling Tremor’s old ears.

As Christian flew back to meet them, Tremor let the words that desired to spring