The Resurrection Of Dracula

PART ONE

BLOOD LUST

***

CHAPTER 1

––––––––

Mounted atop a white stallion, with a sword in one hand and reins in the other, Prince Vlad Tepes, also known as Vlad Dracula, led a procession of hundreds of exhausted, shackled, half-naked Turkish prisoners up a narrow mountain trail.

Stumbling over rocks that littered the road, steam rose from their bodies. The day became night as the scarlet-colored sun slowly disappeared behind the green forested hillside.

Dracula, bearing a sharp hawkish nose, large protruding eyes, a thick drooping mustache, and shoulder-length black hair, wore a blood-red ruby ring engraved with a dragon insignia on his right hand. His horse reared up and whinnied as they approached the top of the hill.

In the distance stood Dracula’s castle, cold and foreboding. Countless numbers of dead and dying men, impaled on sharpened wooden stakes, lined the trail that led to the castle. Absolute fear colored the prisoner’s faces as they were marched past the grotesque display.

As Prince Dracula and his prisoners entered the massive fortress, a giant metal gate clanged shut. Crowds of villagers shouted the Prince's name as he dismounted and sheathed his sword.

Dracula. Dracula. Dracula.

With his sword hanging by his side, he walked up the steps and turned to address his subjects. Torches flickered in the wind and lit the darkening sky.

Again, I have exacted revenge for my father's murder.

The crowd cheered.

Prepare the prisoners for execution and make ready a table for my feast, he said triumphantly.

Dracula, flanked by his soldiers, was seated in the middle of a long wooden table in his courtyard. Loaves of bread, golden goblets, and knives sharpened to a razor’s edge were laid out before them.

Seven naked captives, their hands bound behind them with horsehair rope, were led inside the castle and forced to their knees in front of the table. Covered in filth and grime, the men trembled in fear as they kneeled with their heads down, faces in the dirt.

Soldiers, carrying long, lubricated wooden poles, approached from behind. One by one, each prisoner’s rectum was penetrated with a sharply honed rod. The captives screamed, kicked, and jerked like frogs on gigs as they were hoisted into the air. The weight of their bodies allowed gravity to impale them as they died a slow, agonizing death.

Dracula rose from the table, walked beneath the prisoners, reached up, and slit their throats with a razor-sharp blade. With each beat of their hearts, blood spurted into the air.

Now thou shall dine, Dracula said.

One by one, each soldier rose and walked beneath the bleeding prisoners, filling their solid gold goblet with the sanguineous fluid. They returned to the table, broke off a piece of bread, and dipped it into the steaming blood.

Dracula raised his glass and said, By consuming the blood of thine enemies, you will never be defeated, you will never die. You shall become immortal.

The soldiers saluted him with their glasses and drank the remaining fluid. The Prince raised his golden goblet and smiled. His teeth, which had been sharpened to fine-pointed fangs, dripped with blood.

CHAPTER 2

A week later, while preparing to fight the enemy, Dracula reined his stallion around to face his soldiers. From within the ranks of the warriors rose a voice of dissension. We cannot defeat the Turks. There are too many of them. They outnumber us ten to one, cried a soldier.

His sharpened teeth glowed in the moonlight as he raised his sword and shouted. I am Vlad Dracula, son of Vlad Dracul. As a young child, I watched as the Turks hung my father and raped my mother. I was taken prisoner, held captive in a cell, and tortured for years. Tonight, we will fight, and many will die. Run, and you will live for a while. But sooner or later, they will find you, and they will kill you. Then they will rape and kill your wives, then take your children and raise them as their own. Our enemies may take our lives, but they will never take our freedom.

Slowly a chant rose from within the band of soldiers. Dracula. Dracula. Dracula.

Hundreds of torches, carried by the Turkish army, lit up the night sky as they rapidly approached the waiting Romanian soldiers. In the light of a full moon, Dracula drew his broadsword, spun his steed around, and led his army out onto the field of battle. Within minutes, it was clear that the Romanian army was outnumbered. Blood ran red on the battlefield as Dracula’s soldiers, overwhelmed by the Turks, dropped like flies. Undaunted, the Romanians continued their advance against the Ottoman army. The smell of death and the cries of men and horses dying filled the air as Dracula’s troops were slaughtered without mercy.

Relentlessly, Vlad Dracula carved his way through the opposing army. Each time he swung his sword, a head or an arm would fly through the air.

Outnumbered and outflanked on all sides, many of Dracula’s soldiers turned and ran. Undaunted, he spurred his horse and continued his ruthless charge, sword in one hand, reins in the other.

From out of nowhere, two Turkish soldiers came at Dracula from both sides, severely lancing his horse. It tumbled to the ground trapping Dracula beneath the saddle with blood and foam gushing from its mouth. Struggling to free himself from the quivering horse, he was captured and escorted, hands bound, to a Turkish general.

The general smiled as the Prince stood before him. Praise be to Allah. By the virtues, no longer will thee bring fear to my people. The general turned toward his warriors. Take him away. Tonight, Vlad The Impaler shall die.

Dracula struggled as Turkish soldiers securely bound him to the trunk of a nearby tree. The Prince strained at his bindings, but to no avail.

A full moon emerged from behind the clouds, and in the distance, a lone wolf howled.

Dracula sneered. You cannot harm me. I am immortal.

The general approached cautiously, with his sword drawn. No man is immortal. It is against the will of Allah.

Dracula snarled at him, exposing his sharpened teeth. You may take my body, but my soul will return. I will raise the dead to feast on the living. Upon the living, the dead shall prey and drink their blood by the light of the full moon.

The general raised his sword. I have had enough of thine lunatic ravings. He brought the tip of the blade up over his right shoulder and swung it with all his might. The sword whistled through the air, and with one quick blow, Vlad Dracula’s head fell to the ground.

A soldier rushed over, reached down, and lifted the bloody head by the hair. He held it high and proudly displayed it to the other men. As a cheer rang out, Dracula’s blood-red eyes suddenly opened.

***

Two days later, smoke from a smoldering fire filtered up into the night sky from the remains of a burnt-out building. Lying outside, amongst the charred rubble, was the body of a dead Turkish soldier. His throat had been ripped out, and his vacant eyes stared upward.

Nearby lay the lifeless form of another young man, perhaps eighteen years old. He, too, had blood splattered on his neck, and it was clear that he also was dead.

A dark shape moved nearer, someone that at first that had been taken as part of the debris. The shape turned. It was a man with glowing red eyes and a wild, wrathful expression on his face. His victims' blood-stained his pointed chin, and a red ruby ring with the insignia of a dragon adorned his hand. In an instant, he darted out of view. The legend of Dracula was born.

CHAPTER 3

FIVE HUNDRED YEARS LATER

––––––––

Inside a shabby Seattle motel bathroom, a single light bulb hung from the ceiling and revealed bloody clothes piled high on a chair. Inside the bathtub, filled to the brim with water, laid a naked man with his eyes closed. Between his nose and chin, dried blood caked the corners of his mouth.

Cold, murky water splashed as he jerked awake. Disoriented, he rapidly sat up and sloshed water onto the floor. Confused, his protruding eyes darted about the totally unfamiliar, dimly lit room. He squinted, as his hand, adorned with a ruby-red ring bearing a dragon insignia, rubbed the back of his stiffened neck.

He slowly stood, stepped from the tub, and staggered across the room to a washbasin. Puddles of water trailed behind him on the bare tile floor. Shivering, he glared into the dirty, cracked mirror and stared at his reflection. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip and licked the dried blood at each corner of his mouth. He pulled back his upper lip, exposing teeth sharpened to a fine point.

He dried himself off with a dingy, damp towel, picked up his clothes lying on the chair, and put them on. He turned and stumbled across the room to a small lone window, cracked and covered in grime. He wiped it with his hand, smearing the smudge, then pushed up on the frame allowing frigid air to rush in. Beams of light from a full moon shone in through the opening. He peered outside into the eerie, quiet darkness at the empty, deserted streets. There were no signs of life.

He ambled over toward the door to the adjoining room, reached out, and hesitated with his hand only inches from the doorknob. He grasped the knob, turned it, and pulled. As the door opened, the dim light revealed a naked woman lying on her back across the bed.

He stood motionless for a moment, not sure of the woman’s identity. He took a few steps toward her, grabbed her bare shoulder, and shook her cold, lifeless body. With trembling hands, he reached down and brushed back her long dark hair that covered her face. The woman’s dead eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. Beneath her head, blood stained the sheet red from two small puncture wounds on her neck.

His heart pounded as he stumbled backward, reaching out, grabbing for support. Nausea overwhelmed him. He put his hand over his mouth, ran back into the bathroom, and kneeled in front of the toilet stool and vomited, heaving violently.

Panting, he collapsed to the floor, placed one arm on the toilet seat, and leaned back against the wall. Sweat, like melted wax, streamed down his face as he trembled and cradled his head in his free hand like it was going to explode.

CHAPTER 4

A massive, black wrought-iron gate blocked the entrance to an elegant mansion sitting high on the hill. A bright spotlight bathed a large fountain in the front lawn and illuminated a red Corvette and a yellow Humvee parked in the driveway.

Inside the mansion, white light from the full moon shined through the bedroom window. Brad Tepp, mid-thirties, coal-black hair and chiseled good looks, awakened and bolted upright in his bed with his heart pounding in his chest.

Abdominal cramps struck, doubling him over, causing him to draw his knees up into a fetal position. Overwhelmed by nausea, he rolled out of bed, stumbled toward the bathroom, and kneeled in front of the toilet, vomiting and heaving violently.

With one arm still on the seat, he leaned back against the wall. Sweat streamed down his face as he trembled and cradled his head in his free hand like it was going to explode. Thoughts raced through his mind. What the hell's wrong with me? Why do I keep having these weird-ass nightmares? Am I losing my mind?

CHAPTER 5

The Tepp building, a magnificent towering glass and metal structure, stood proudly in the heart of downtown Seattle.

Brad, wearing dark sunglasses and a custom-made English suit, rode the elevator to the top floor. He arrived at his penthouse office and strode down an impressive corridor hung with expensive modern art and life-sized portraits of elder Tepps.

His office manager greeted him as he entered the reception area. Good morning, Mr. Tepp, said Shirley. Are you feeling okay? You don't look well.

I’ve been having trouble sleeping.

Can I get you something?

Yes, please. I could use a cup of coffee and a couple of aspirin. He turned and continued down the hallway. I’ll be in my office.

Yes, sir.

Brad entered his private office, switched off the bright fluorescent lights, removed his dark glasses, and slumped in his oversized leather chair. He closed his eyes and propped his feet upon the massive mahogany desk. Almost immediately, he drifted off to sleep. He was mounted on a magnificent white stallion on a battlefield deep in the Romanian countryside in his dream. He withdrew his sword from its scabbard, spurred his horse, and raced toward a band of Turkish Ottoman soldiers, slashing his way through the men. His sword dripped with blood as he dismembered arms and heads effortlessly.

When he reined his mount to a stop, steam rose from the stallions’ nostrils. Blood covered both the rider and the horse. He removed his glove, slid his hand across the metal blade, and placed his fingers in his mouth, slowly licking them clean. A smile came to his face, exposing teeth sharpened to pointed fangs.

Brad’s eyelids fluttered when he heard a knock on the door. Startled, he awoke from the dream when the door cracked open. He shielded his face from the glare and squinted as he looked up at Shirley standing in front of him.

I’m sorry to wake you, Mr. Tepp. Here are your coffee and aspirin. Anything else I can get you?

What time is my first appointment? he asked as he removed his feet from the desk and grabbed the cup of coffee.

Nine-fifteen with Mr. Keijiro."

Keijiro? he repeated.

Yes. You remember. The property on Pike Place and First.

He ran his hand across his face and sighed. Oh yeah... Keijiro. Now I remember.

Are you sure you’re going to be okay, Mr. Tepp? Shirley asked as she stepped toward the door. If you’re not feeling well, I can reschedule all your appointments.

No. No, I’ll be all right, thank you.

As Shirley walked out the door, the stomach cramps struck him again.

***

That night, Brad laid sound asleep in his bed. He was dreaming, and in his dream, he was flying through pitch blackness, searching for a victim. A female appeared below. He swooped down upon the woman and sank his teeth deep into her carotid artery. Blood spurted out as she struggled to free herself, but his teeth sank deeper and deeper into her neck. She screamed, but to no avail.

Brad, sweating profusely, bolted up in bed. The sharp pain in his stomach grabbed him like a clenched fist and doubled him over. He drew his knees to his chest and moaned. Overwhelmed by nausea, he stumbled to the bathroom and vomited. As the cramps subsided, he leaned back against the wall and panted.

Gathering his strength, he staggered back to bed, turned on his side, and stared at the rain falling lightly against his window. Pangs of hunger gnawed at his gut.

Unable to sleep, he got up and walked to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator, grabbed a carton of milk, and took a drink. Nauseated by the taste, he spat it back into the carton and slammed the door. He opened the cabinets and scanned the shelves, frantically searching for something to eat. The thought ran through his mind. Meat, I need fresh, red, bloody meat.

CHAPTER 6

Brad’s red Corvette entered the supermarket parking lot and parked near the front door. Even though he was wearing dark glasses, the bright fluorescent lights still pierced his skull.

He strolled back to the meat department and picked up a choice piece of steak. Before he walked away, the grocer brought out a fresh container of calf’s liver floating in blood. Salivating at the sight of it, he replaced the steak and grabbed the plastic container of the liver.

Light from the store’s neon sign reflected off Brad’s gaunt face as he sat alone in his car. He reached into the bag and slowly removed the container. He lifted the plastic lid, placed the cup to his lips, and filled his mouth with the calf’s blood. Forcing back the urge to spit out the cold, bloody liquid, he swallowed and gagged. He tried to force himself to drink the rest of it, but he couldn’t. Frustrated, he threw the half-empty container out the window, started the engine, and drove off slowly into the night.

A light drizzle fell as he cruised down a dark street in a seedy part of town. A woman dressed in pointed high heels, skin-tight black mini-shorts, and a red leather jacket stood on the corner beneath the streetlight at a stoplight. She smiled at him as he rolled down the window and motioned her toward the car. As she leaned in, she said flirtatiously, Hi, Sweetie. Lookin' for a little action?

He was mesmerized by her dark hair, her soft white flesh, and the pulsating artery in her neck. Get in, he said.

The woman walked around to the passenger side, opened the door, and slid onto the seat.

Brad glanced over at her. How much?

A hundred, honey.

He opened his wallet and handed her the money. She took it and quickly stuffed it down the front of her blouse.

What's your name? he asked.

Candy.

As they drove away, a slight smile came to his face. Before they had gone a block, the stomach cramps struck again. He groaned loudly and grabbed his abdomen.

Candy grasped his arm. What’s wrong?

I need something to eat.

She leaned over, wrapped her fingers around his neck, and licked his ear lobe. Why don't you just eat me, sugar?

The thought of the proposal caused beads of sweat to form on his brow. He licked his lips, swallowed, and began breathing hard.

Just as Brad felt the cramps returning, Candy put her tongue into his ear. He placed his hand on his stomach and pressed in hard, groaning. Candy pulled back and stared at him. Are you sure you're all right?

Brad gritted his teeth and nodded. I just need... food.

Low blood sugar, huh?

Something like that.

The Corvette came to a stop in front of room number seven at the Sleep Inn motel. As they entered the shabby room, he threw his keys on the table, sat on the end of the bed, grimaced, and held his stomach.

She stood in front of him with her breasts in his face and ran her hands through his hair. I’ll be right back. I'm going to go freshen up.

She disappeared into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Steam poured out from beneath the door as Brad, still holding his stomach, paced back and forth across the room. What the hell was I thinking? I feel like I’m losing all control.

With a painful expression on her face, Candy emerged from the bathroom clad only in a towel. Grasping her hand, she rushed toward him.

What’s wrong? he asked.

"The mirror in the bathroom, it’s broken. I tried to wipe off the steam and cut my hand.

Let me see.

When Candy held out her hand, Brad’s eyes widened as he stared at the blood dripping from a cut on her finger. He took the digit, placed it in his mouth, closed his eyes, and sucked hard.

She jerked her hand away. Ouch. That hurts. What are you doing? Are you some kind of a pervert? I’m not into anything kinky.

His eyes, filled with hunger, widened as he stared at her carotid artery pulsating in her smooth, soft neck. Her neck clearly excited him as he moved slowly toward her, then stopped. He gazed at her intently, mesmerized by her long dark hair and delicate features.

Candy, obviously frightened, backed away. What are you looking at?

He blinked his eyes a few times. You remind me of a girl in my dreams. As a matter of fact, this whole situation reminds me of something I’ve been trying to forget.

He turned, grabbed his keys lying on the table, and raced out the door into the night.

CHAPTER 7

As the red Corvette flew down the highway, thoughts of what had just happened raced through his mind. The thought of the way her blood tasted like sweet nectar. The thought of the way blood pulsated through the artery in her neck. He yelled out and pounded on the steering wheel. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I get these thoughts out of my mind? This lust I have for blood is driving me insane!

He strained to see through the bug-splattered windshield, pressed the washer button, but the dispenser was empty. The wipers spread the greasy bug juice and made it even harder to see. Squinting from the glare of an approaching car’s headlights, he put on his sunglasses.

Ahead in the shadows, a deer stood in the middle of the road. He slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. The deer bounced off the Corvette's front with a loud thump, followed by the sound of breaking glass.

He shook uncontrollably as he pulled over to the side of the road. After he calmed down, he glanced