Chapter 32: And a Smile That Judas in Hell Might Be Proud Of, Part 1

Alex froze.

She had thought she was prepared for this, but she was completely and utterly wrong. She couldn’t breathe, much less move a finger.

I don’t want to die, she thought.

I should never have come here, she thought.

But she had come, and now there was no escaping. Throwing herself out of the window would only result in her death—not to mention, even if she survived, she wouldn't be able to live with herself. She had never been one to run from a fight, whether it was the sensible thing to do or not, no matter how professional she usually behaved. That was precisely the problem. She was a professional, she was good—too good—and she didn’t run. Never.

So she wasn’t used to feeling this kind of fear. She didn’t have the tools to handle it.

Alex took a deep breath.

Then, she decided she wouldn’t handle it. She would just push it away for the time being, knowing that if she got distracted, she’d die sooner than the rest. It wasn’t much, but it would have to be enough. She was so terrified of dying that she couldn’t move properly, and if she stayed that way, that fear would be the thing to kill her. Humans were strange, she thought, as Dracula slowly approached, step by step, with no hurry at all.

They were always sowing the seeds of their own destruction.

The only beings who seemed to run toward death with open arms, no matter how much they claimed to fear it.

Alex wouldn’t run toward death. She would fight until she couldn’t anymore.

She wouldn’t let anyone say she hadn’t tried, at least.

Dracula launched himself at the few remaining survivors. Alex expected him to attack like a wild animal, all teeth and claws, but in reality, he moved with grace, every step, every movement calculated with precision. In his hands, he carried a sword that looked like a fragment of the night itself.

Alex and Daniela were among the few who stepped forward to face the monster in close combat, trading blows.

Dracula surely had all kinds of esoteric powers, essentially magic, but for now, he was sticking to the sword. Maybe because he didn’t consider them a threat at all.

Maybe because he wanted to best them at what they did best, to crush their spirits.

If it was the former, she shouldn’t feel offended. It didn’t matter how weak your opponent was. In a fight to the death, you had to end it as quickly as possible. Don’t even give them a chance to turn the tables.

But she felt offended anyway.

This creature saw her as a cockroach. Weak, forced to crawl in the darkness. She was used to being the hunter who dragged those bugs into the revealing light of day, to execute them.

She had no desire to trade places.

Dracula was bigger and stronger than any of them, but he was still the same type of cockroach that Alex and Daniela had been crushing all their lives. A supernatural bastard with an ego the size of a skyscraper.

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And he had the skill to back it up.

He’d be dangerous enough with just power and speed, but it was clear he was also a skilled swordsman. He had no weaknesses. Like a fortress impossible to breach.

Everything else had just been the toll they had to pay to get to him. Decoration. This was the real fight. Not even two minutes had passed, and they were already losing.

Dracula was smiling. How could he not be happy, holding them in the palm of his hand? They had been dancing there since the beginning—before the beginning. Alex couldn’t help but notice the bloodstains on his fangs. She couldn’t stop the mental image, vivid and grotesque, of those teeth sinking into her flesh, tearing it apart.

“Yes, yes! This is what I’ve been waiting for!” Dracula laughed.

Horrifying. Dracula was breathing—she could see his chest rising and falling, feel his breath. Yet still, his laughter sounded like that of someone who had stopped breathing long ago.

Something obviously inhuman, from another world.

Cold and merciless.

“You sound like you’re having fun. Like this is all just a game to you.” It made no sense to talk to the monster. Daniela couldn’t afford to waste any oxygen, but she chose to speak anyway. She sounded almost offended.

Alex could understand that.

They had never shown mercy when dealing with a vampire or any other kind of monster, but they recognized that it was the only way for them to live. Werewolves couldn’t control themselves, vampires needed blood. Generally, that was how things were.

It was a fight for survival, that’s what it boiled down to.

Something deadly serious.

Something they could respect, in a way. But this monster had no such need. He had been sleeping just fine for a thousand years, and he could wander the world for a thousand more without drinking a single drop of blood. He did what he did because he wanted to. Because he liked it.

That was abominable.

“Are you surprised? I am the Prince of Darkness. This is what I live for.”

It was like a response to her thoughts.

“Die, monster. You don’t belong in this world.”

“I hear that a lot.”

Alex redoubled her efforts. Still, it didn’t make a dent in Dracula’s guard.

She probably shouldn’t expect it to, no matter what happened.

It made sense that she thought they had to win this themselves, as she was used to fighting with Daniela and no one else, but they weren’t alone.

Even though there were few left, even though Dracula’s castle had devoured dozens of people with ease, they still had important support.

If they won, they would win together. All of them.

They had forged a cooperation and cohesion that was practically nonexistent at the beginning, with blood, sweat, and tears. Through losses.

No matter how few they were now, they could fight as a team. And in a way, that made them stronger than before.

It would have to be enough.

Alex decided that she would focus on keeping Dracula in place long enough for some magical attack to hit him. That would be her goal from now on—not desperately trying to create or find a hole in his guard that would never appear.

For a moment, she thought she had succeeded, but then that abomination turned into mist.

All this time, he hadn’t even needed to bother dodging, she thought. He could have done that every time I thought we were close.

He’s playing with us. Like I said, he’s been playing with us the whole time.

Which meant that if he stopped playing, they were dead. But Alex screamed and pushed herself even harder, as if daring him to stop.

Of course, it was just as useless as before. No matter how much effort she put in, the world didn’t work like that. Dracula was superior to her in strength, speed, and technique. If she surpassed him in just one of those areas, she could dream of overpowering him, even for just long enough to land a fatal blow, but this way, it was impossible.

But she did manage to knock over a statue—of Dracula, naturally—on top of him. She hadn’t mentioned it until now because the only strange thing about it was that it hadn’t been waiting for them at the entrance. She stabbed it with several copies of her weapon and detonated them all at once while her teammate kept him occupied.

The statue and its debris didn’t do a damn thing to him, but that had never been the point.

It had only been meant to stun him long enough for what had been brewing behind the scenes to hit him. Alex didn’t have much experience with magic, but you didn’t need any experience to feel the power they had accumulated. You didn’t see a spell cast by more than ten people every day.

The magical attack, like a railgun, engulfed Dracula in a column of blue energy before he could emerge from the debris.

Alex dared to hope.

But, naturally, it turned out to be a mistake.

They hadn’t achieved anything. Before seeing through the dense curtain of dust, she knew. Because the monster just laughed in response.

“My blood burns.” It almost seemed literal. His eyes gleamed—they were those of a savage beast.

A cold, piercing laugh

And a Smile That Judas in Hell Might Be Proud Of, Part 1: FIN