It was Senka who touched ground first, bare toes disrupting soil with a grunt of impatience.

Hailwic only just behind but was first to sprint across the courtyard. A cat whose claws expected to sink into flesh. She didn’t look back.

Jabbed finger to her right.

Snapped; “Senka, east tower. Vasilja. Master chamber. I’ll take the Hall.”

Senka bit back a reply. Said nothing.

Not this time.

Hailwic was a warrior. A fighter. She’d led an army before Dracula found her.

An army of ruthless men who killed on command and without question.

Such a wondrous thing, Senka thought.

She dreamed of having an army of her own. A horde of slaves who bowed and groveled. Who begged for her attention. Whose only desire was to feed their vampire queen with the rewards of savagery and slaughter.

She’d lead them across Europe.

Africa.

The world! Flood cities with death and destruction. Revel in flavours of barbarity and pleasure which can only be found in the madness of war.

Blood would flow in rivers and she’d drink it all.

In her inexperienced mind, war was glorious.

Senka kicked into the east tower on the heels of irritation. She hated that Hailwic decided everything. Just once she wanted to hear the eldest say she didn’t know what to do.

A seed of spite gleamed in her heart as she made her way down the stairs. She quickly gave up running and instead floated weightless like a ghost down the winding passages. Hovering inches above the ground. Why the others chose to run all the time, she didn’t know.

Power over even such a simple thing as gravity was intoxicating.

She inhaled a faint smell of brimstone which worked to remind her of the origin of all her strength.

She could feel the air ripple around her.

Felt also the warmth of fresh blood soak from her belly and into her bones.

Replenishing her strength.

The door opened at her touch. An ancient enchantment laid across the carved stone face in runes delivered in the Devil’s own language circling Dracula’s sigil. Each rune infused with the demonic energy of Fel.

They flared green beneath her fingertip before the door groaned open on heavy iron hinges. Stone dragon statues guarded the entrance to the room.

Today, she didn’t study their silent snarls. Nor did she smile at sight of the carved blood drooling from their fangs.

Instead, she soared straight into the crypt and found three coffins undisturbed.

Hers.

Hailwic’s.

Vasilja’s.

Looking at the bright scarlet coffin Vasilja used, she remembered placing garlic flowers inside. It’d been worth the greasy feeling of revulsion carrying them down to witness Vasilja’s horror. Then Vasilja’s mad rush through the castle in search of a vampire hunter while Senka squatted on a beam above and cackled in wicked pleasure.

The heavy stone dais at the end was empty where once a giant coffin dominated.

Empty.

The word rocked through her thoughts like a hammer ringing against an anvil.

And, though she would feel shamed by it later, her mouth dropped open and a shriek filled the brittle air.

Hailwic came with a roar. Flying into the room and spinning through the air.

Sword in one hand. In the other, a heavy steel mace.

It’s why she’d taken the Hall. That’s where her weapons were kept.

Seething rage twisted the eldest’s face and Senka shrank beneath the fury.

“He’s not here,” Hailwic spat. “He’s gone.”

“But he can’t! He can’t leave us like this. What will we do?”

Hailwic turned her head to the empty dais. Sword blade tapping against her thigh as thoughts raced. She aimed a narrow gaze at her sister. “Vasilja. Where is Vasilja?”

“You don’t need to worry about me, Hailwic,” Vasilja purred as she cruised into the crypt. Dragging a hunched form which she tossed into the middle of the room. “I’m here. I looked everywhere in the tower, and I couldn’t find any sign of Dracula. But I think he left us a parting gift. That was nice of him, don’t you think?”

Senka shot into the air with a squeal, clapping her hands in delight. “What is it? Is it young? Is it tiny?”

“No. It’s not very young at all, Senka. In fact, it’s the man. You remember the man. The one who’s been staying with us. Mister Harker.”

“Jonathan!” Senka whirled into the air, white dress flapping like angelic wings. Let out a mocking screech; “Oh, Jonathan. Save me, Jonathan!”

The man trembled at Vasilja’s feet. “Please. Please let me go. I won’t tell anyone what I’ve seen. I promise.”

“Let you go?” Vasilja’s tone made his head droop. “Why would we let you go, Mister Harker? Weren’t you here to rescue us? That’s what you promised my sister. You said you wanted to save us. That’s what you said, wasn’t it? And all we had to do was show a little bit of gratitude and let you love us very much until the morning. Wasn’t that how you put it? But I don’t think you would like our kisses, Mister Harker. You were very lucky he showed up, you know. Senka can be very messy. And he does so hate messy floors.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“I’ll love him,” Senka said. Licked her lips and showed sharp white fang. “Love him until dawn. Please, Hailwic. Let me love him.”

“Not yet,” Hailwic said. And Senka said nothing. She could hear the reluctance in the eldest’s voice. They all wanted him in their own way. “Vasilja, take him to the cells. Lock him inside. Chain him if you have to. He’s not to leave. You’ll make sure of this?”

“Of course, Hailwic.” She raised an arm imperiously toward the door and sneered at her captive. “Run, Mister Harker. Run. I do so like to watch you run.”

Giggling, Senka started to follow, but stopped as Hailwic’s voice cut through her reverie. “Not you, Senka. You come with me.”

“But I want to see him run,” Senka complained. Testing her limits. Not too hard.

“I promise you will. But remember why we’re here. Dracula is gone. With the time we have, we must quickly search the castle. There may be some sign as to where.”

“Why should we care? He left us. Does it matter where he went? Let him go to Greece. To Germany. Russia, even. Good riddance to him. Now we have the towns to ourselves! We can feed on who we want to feed! And he’ll not stop us anymore. We can be sated. I want to be sated, Hailwic. I want to bite!”

“Our thirst can never be sated.” Hailwic looked down at the weapons in her hands. “You’ll learn this in time.”

“You always say that.”

“I say it because it’s true. Now. Come. He kept papers in the library. He’d need to arrange travel. There has to be letters there. He’d never leave without knowing which ship to board. Never risk leaving his body in a warehouse for some filthy dock rat to find. No. He has arranged this. Planned it. Planned for how long, I wonder?”

Senka pressed fangs to her lips. Stopped short of biting. To ask the next question was to invite ridicule. But she had no choice. She was the youngest.

“Has he done this before?”

“Four times,” Hailwic said. Heading toward the stairs. “That I know of.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“He’s older than me, Senka. Most likely he’s done this before. Many times. At least, I suspect so.”

“Done what?”

“Left the castle. His home. Like us, he is tied to this place. To this earth. You feel it as much as I.”

“I’m not tied here. I can leave any time.”

And recruit an army.

Fight across Europe.

Burn it all to the ground!

Show her sisters she wasn’t a kitten. She was a lion. The world would hear her roar.

“You’re tied here. Why else have you stayed this long?”

There was no answer to that, so she tightened her lips and followed the eldest without further question.

Hailwic was right.

She hated the eldest for it. But she was always right. Though she thought about leaving, she’d never been able to go further than dreams. In her most secret of places, she knew she didn’t even want to. Not anymore.

At the top, they paused before leaving the tower.

Hailwic turned to the youngest and, though she didn’t quite smile, looked pleased by a stray thought.

Held out the mace and said; “Here, Senka. I’m giving this to you. I think you’ll enjoy using it. And you may need it soon.”

Senka ran her tongue across her lips and felt flame burn in her belly.

Reached slowly.

If it was Vasilja, she’d expect a trick. But Hailwic never played games.

Especially not with weapons.

Hailwic almost worshipped them. She could spend hours cleaning and oiling swords, axes, knives, and an arsenal of exotic weapons from all over the world. Even guns.

One lesson above all others had been drilled into Senka since she’d first arrived.

Never touch Hailwic’s weapons.

Ever.

“Really? Are you sure?”

“I am. You are the youngest. And I’ve treated you as such. But I think it’s time we accepted the meaninglessness of doing so. You’ve been with us for a hundred years, Senka. More than a mortal lifetime.”

Senka took the weapon. Marveled at the way moonlight formed silver sprays off the bladed head. It would look so much more beautiful if it was slick with blood and gore, she thought.

She smiled into the cool gaze of the eldest. A genuine smile filled with affection.

“I don’t know what to say.” Then serious. “I’ll look after it, Hailwic. I promise. And I won’t ever lose it.”

Hailwic reached first, pulling Senka close. “You’ve nothing to prove, Senka. Not to me. Not to Vasilja. And definitely not to him. Only to yourself. Now. Let’s find where he has gone and hunt him down. And, yes. You can bite him.”

“I want to hit him with this.” She swung the mace, relishing the swish as it howled through air. “Again and again. Over and over. Hit him with it.”

“I think I’ll let you.” She showed a wry smile this time. “It deserves to strike him at least once. That mace has killed a king, Senka. Also two Cardinals, a Bishop, and a Pope.”

“A Pope?” Gasped. “Really?”

“Truly. Some nights, I’ve kissed its metal and imagined I can still taste his blood on its edge.”

“It sounds too much to believe. Weren’t you afraid?”

“When I killed him?” She thought about it. “No. He was afraid. Too afraid to try and defend himself. He even forgot to pray to his god when he died.”

“How did he taste?”

Hailwic’s mouth formed a cruel curve. “Divine.”

“I want to bite a Pope.”

The library was sheathed in darkness. Candles, usually lit, lay cold and dead.

Papers strewn across the ground. Books, snatched from their shelves, lay amid the destruction of his desk. Splinters of which formed a sharp carpet.

Dracula must have blasted it with his magic, Senka thought.

No way he would’ve taken the time to tear it to so many pieces with his hands.

She could smell the lingering stink of brimstone.

The two vampires hovered above the wreckage, feeling hope sink as their eyes were drawn to smoking remains choking in the fireplace. Secrets now protected by ash.

Other papers were shredded by his own hand. Torn and discarded.

A journal, open on his desk.

Last few pages already taken.

Burned? Ripped to pieces? Taken with him? It didn’t matter.

“There’s nothing here,” Senka said. “He’s left us nothing, Hailwic.”

The mace felt heavy in her hand, but she didn’t let it go. Despair was sinking in. And when she felt despair, she wanted to break things.

The mace would break things so much easier.

“He was in a hurry. He didn’t have time to hide anything from us.” Hailwic pressed the sword’s brass pommel to her chin. Thinking. “He rushed here. Found everything he thought we might find and burned it. The rest he left for us to sift through. Knowing there’s nothing we can use. But, the important thing to remember, Senka, is he was in a hurry. Which means he may have missed something. Maybe something small. Something he didn’t think was important.”

“How do you know?” Waspish.

Pause.

Sigh.

“I don’t know. Not really. Sometimes, he’s too clever.”

The admission made Senka shiver rather than want to celebrate Hailwic’s confession.

Vasilja slid into the room with a whistle. Arched a brow. “Senka, did you damage his desk? He’ll be very cross with you. He liked that desk.”

“It wasn’t me,” Senka said. Couldn’t hide the sorrow in her voice. “I wanted to, but he broke it first.”

“You know what I think? I think he knows you very well.”

Hailwic frowned. “He knows us all too well. I’ve decided we’re wasting time in here. Is Harker secured?”

“Of course. I have asked him very nicely not to leave. And if he doesn’t want to listen to me, then the chains should keep him from going anywhere.”

“We’ll question him after sunset.”

Senka crossed her arms.

Almost stamped a foot, but she was hovering above the ground, so it was pointless.

“Why not do it now? I want to do it now. I’m hungry, Hailwic. I need to bite. I have to. I think we really should bite him now.”

“There’s not enough time. Can’t you feel the cursed sun? Already it pushes at the night. My skin is crawling.”

“You always feel it first.” Senka said. “You’re sensitive.”

It wasn’t quite an accusation of weakness.

“To look upon its light is to accept death and eternal damnation,” Hailwic said. “I want for neither of these things. The better I feel its chase, the less I need to worry about being surprised by its sudden appearance.”

“You’re very wise when you talk like that, Hailwic.” Vasilja took Senka’s hand. Gave it a small squeeze. “It’s why you make the decisions. You always make good decisions. I can’t worry when you are around. Senka, we should learn this ourselves. We should always know where the sun is, too.”

“All I want to know is where he’s going.” Senka scowled. “And I want to know why he left.”

Hailwic sighed. “We will know, in time. For now, return to the crypt. Wait for night. Then we get what answers we can from Harker and decide whether to wait. Or to follow.”

“And bite him. Jonathan, first. We have to bite him.”

“Yes, Senka. Then we bite.”