The first thing he heard when he was reborn as an Undead was the water in the cave rushing to join the sea.

Now, at death's door, the first thing he heard was the roar of flames. Nothing else could be expected, where else would a monster like him end up? Jonathan vaguely realized that he must have lost consciousness at some point in that mad rush, not even bothering to defend himself.

Consciousness, not life.

He was very lucky to be alive.

The second thing he heard was someone else's breathing.

It could only be one person, of course.

Which meant that even after he'd come so far, stabbed him all over his body, and even though he gave the impression that he must have more blood outside than inside his body, Adam was still breathing.

Well. That last was hard to discern, of course, as the blood of both was mixed on the floor.

They couldn't have been further from human, but despite that the blood of both of them was red in color.

Still, he felt no frustration or fear. By now Dracula had to be dead.

Not even he could escape this. But Jonathan wasn't satisfied. He wasn't going to close his eyes and go away satisfied with the simple conviction that he too would die, sooner or later.

He needed to see him stop breathing with his own eyes.

Jonathan extended an arm towards the edge of the table, looking for support wherever it was needed. To slowly pull himself up. First the table, then one of the armchairs, resting his body on it, which was practically dead weight.

Little by little. Yes.

All he needed was to confirm the kill.

Dracula hadn't risen. But, so as not to waste time, he'd set off before him. He had turned around and started crawling over the pool of blood, in other words. Crawling back the way he had come, the way they had both come.

The hole in the wall. Entrance and exit.

Resting half his body on the long table, Jonathan staggered forward, chasing after the Count. The desk wasn't going to last him long. But while he could, he would take advantage.

A chunk of the floor fell in his path. If he had been going a little faster, it would have crushed him and most likely his life, his revenge, would have ended there.

If he had been just a little faster, not slower.

But he wasn't happy.

Jonathan wasn't going to let that bastard get away from him.

When all this started, he hadn't been able to see anything but the flames of the bonfire. Now there really was nothing but flames around him. It had always had to end like this, maybe.

"You crazy bastard, do you really want to die?" The Count asked, practically spitting out every word, it was hard for him to breathe anymore "Is this all you aspire to?"

No.

Not really. He had made promises, to himself, to Elizabeth and even to his brother Leonard. But one had to have priorities.

But he didn't say any of that. He didn't deserve explanations, and besides, there was no point in spending his last bit of strength on anything that wasn't useful.

"Damn... lunatic."

Look who's talking. By the gods, how blind that damn monster was. It had been obvious since their meeting at Elesbury, since that delusional speech. But, by the gods. It was about time he looked in the mirror.

Jonathan was convinced he wouldn't be able to catch Adam before he got to the hole, not in this miserable state. As it turned out, he didn't have to. The building shook as if the earth was swallowing it, then a shower of debris covered the hole.

In another time, it would have been trivial to make their way through.

But right now neither of them had the strength to move even one of those pieces of debris.

So now it was the end? Really the end?

Would they both perish in this burning tomb, disappearing forever from this world, along with their curse?

No.

That son of a bitch surely intended to....

To jump out. Of course he did.

He jumped against and through a window, rolling down the alley between the buildings as he landed. Miserably, pathetically. But he had escaped the burning inferno. It was amazing how much vitality he had left even in that miserable state, but there was no time to be distracted by that.

He took the same escape route he did.

Jonathan landed well. More or less, but he came close to losing more than just his balance.

He put a hand to his head, clenching as if trying to physically force his fading consciousness to stay where it belonged. I'm not going to die yet.

Dracula refused to die here, too. A companion, a mirror to look into, or death, eh? He clearly did care how things turned out. He was clearly desperate. Pathetic, more than ever even.

Where was he crawling so hard, didn't he realize that there was no one willing to help him, that anyone would rather turn away and watch him die a thousand times over?

One way or another, it couldn't serve as an excuse to throw in the towel prematurely. He hadn't come this far to die now. He was mortally wounded, but if someone else finished him off, then he wouldn't get the credit and that monster would rise again, while he would disappear forever, defeated. Achieving nothing in life.

So he had to do this. He had to do it. Just a little bit more.

Jonathan was staggering behind the Count, one hand on the alley wall. Unstable, but still in better condition than could really be expected.

"Help me." Even in such a desperate situation, the Count's voice sounded more like he was giving an order than pleading. What an arrogant prick.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Order, plea, whatever he called it, he also shouted with surprising force. Between his wounds and lack of oxygen, he shouldn't have been able to raise his voice properly. But the others were desperately busy trying to survive the assault. They had no time for this monster.

Dracula coughed loudly, pouring blood over one hand.

Rising to his feet.

But it turned out Jonathan was wrong. They did have time for this monster. Someone stabbed him in the back, literally and figuratively. Even Jonathan himself couldn't see it until he was on top of him because Dracula had already left the alley, and the attacker came from somewhere to the right.

His eyes widened like saucers.

His lips, stained with his own blood, had more color than the rest of his face. As he turned around to look at him.

"You?" The nightmare laughed under his breath, twisting his mouth. Loathsome to the end. "Congratulations."

"Wretched thing," spat the attacker, withdrawing the knife, and with it the only thing keeping Dracula on his feet. He fell to his knees. Jonathan saw the blood dripping, falling between his legs.

He also saw the attacker raise the sword again, motioning to swing it.

Jonathan was about to scream. Tell him to stop.

But the attacker stopped on his own, because several others stole his turn. Pouncing on the defeated monster like hyenas. That was the first comparison that came to mind, even though this was no more or less than what he deserved. The simple consequences of his actions.

He had to intervene in this, though.

Otherwise the consequences of the actions of those fearless and courageous heroes, who had only stuck their heads out when the fight was over, would fall on the whole world.

"Enough! Enough!"

And they actually stopped. Perhaps more out of surprise, and out of fear, watching him stagger toward them, covered in blood and burns here and there, like a snapshot of what lay on the other side. Maybe. But they stopped.

"If I don't kill him, he won't die. Enough."

They let him approach Dracula.

He didn't care if the next thing they did was turn around to kill him. Or try to. Once Dracula left this world, so would the only person who could kill him. He didn't want to be cursed. But he wanted him in the world even less.

"I would say congratulations, you defeated the villain. But this was never about good and evil for you, was it?" Weakly. Dragging out every word. But it was full of malice all the way through. Instead of how to save himself, now that it was impossible he was only thinking of trying to hurt him.

To hurt him when he couldn't even understand him. Or begin to understand him.

He turned a deaf ear.

Jonathan threw himself on top of him. Putting his hands around his neck.

"It's the end of the line," he whispered.

And he squeezed.

Squeezed, squeezed, squeezed, concentrating the last sparks of his life on that alone. Squeeze until Dracula stopped moving. Until he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that... the nightmare of Dunwich had come to an end.

For a few seconds, Jonathan felt as if he had been holding his breath for all these months without knowing it, but now he could breathe again. Just for a few seconds.

But he couldn't begin to celebrate his victory peacefully.

Now Jonathan was surrounded by the attackers, lying on the ground next to the lump of flesh that had once been Dracula. Because of course his thirst for revenge had been the only thing that allowed him to keep going even after he had reached his limit.

He didn't want to die so close to that guy. He was convinced that the wounds he had inflicted on him would count, even after Dracula had left this world. Those wolves would be all over him and they would get lucky. Killing two birds with one stone. Maybe that would be for the best, even.

To close his eyes, to surrender, rather than spend an eternity in this bloody earth. Alone. But that was the problem.

Jonathan wasn't really alone.

So he had no choice. He bit his tongue, swallowing it and choking on it.

Killing himself before he could succumb to the damage that monster had done to him. And then, his spirit...

His spirit and body flew to one of the many Undead he had brought here to fight his war. Jonathan literally emerged from within it as a grotesque creature of nightmare, bathed in its fluids and entrails. But other than that, intact.

And Jonathan left the city. He was leaving nothing behind, nothing unfinished. He had done more than enough.

He had fulfilled his wish. He didn't need the army.

"Now I have only promises to keep."

——

He made it to shore. He couldn't operate a boat on his own, not without Leonard's help.

So what he did was to take a rowboat and start paddling. It would take time to get to them, but he would get there.

It helped that Jonathan could feel them. He had done well to keep them out of harm's way.

They were still there. They were still alive.

And Jonathan... Well, he was moving more on instinct than anything else. He had something new to focus on. Something new to keep him from losing his mind completely.

It would have to do, for now.

——

At last he arrived with Leonard and Elizabeth.

Jonathan swallowed hard. He didn't know what to think, what to say. But he supposed it didn't matter. He'd been trying to fool himself for a long time, but they weren't fogged glass. There was simply nothing on the other side.

Nothing at all.

He could tell them "I'm sorry," but they couldn't understand or respond in any meaningful way.

He could tell them "Thank you," but it would be the same thing.

In reality, they were less than ghosts.

Jonathan felt like throwing up.

In the end he chose to say nothing. Whenever he got lost spinning around in his thoughts it was either because there was no answer or because he didn't want to accept the only answer that came to mind, so he should have realized it sooner.

There was room for all three of them in the boat. Albeit barely. All he did was command them to get in the boat and he got it going again.

Command them. At the end of the day, he could only give them orders.

But things would change. They could change, couldn't they?

All this madness had started with him desperately trying to find the island to fulfill his desire for revenge. Though for a different purpose, it seemed things were back to square one.

How long had it taken?

Originally, with Leonard and the rest of the Red Eagle crew at his side, the trip had been only three months. This time the stations made at least one complete turn before he found the island.

In any case, Jonathan took them to the cave where he had died and come back to life. Only different.

And there he executed them, slitting their throats. Yes. Not just Elizabeth. He hadn't promised Leonard anything, not even to himself, but he supposed he owed it to him to try, after all. That he didn't deserve to stay this way. Deep down.

In any case, neither of them rose.

Not without him forcing them to, filling them again with his power, regenerating them. It was clear that things didn't work that way. He had missed his chance. This island could save people from the clutches of death and even grant them immortality, but he hadn't brought people to it.

As he had said, the eyes were the window to the soul and there was simply nothing there. The people they once were had gone, leaving a twisted reflection of their desires, hopes and regrets.

Jonathan fell to his knees in the water of the cave, completely exhausted. He had managed to keep going for a year by clinging to this vain hope, but now he didn't even have anything to fight for.

Only a long eternity lay ahead of him, and there was no one who could relieve him of that burden. Not yet.

Jonathan couldn't help but laugh.

It wasn't the completely unbridled laughter of some poor bastard who had finally lost his mind. Or the laughter of someone who was barely hanging on. It was simply the low, resigned laugh of someone who had accepted the way things had to be.

Adam had told him that he didn't understand him, that he couldn't understand him. Jonathan had replied that he had only himself to blame, that he was spouting nothing but excuses.

"Now we'll see who was really right."

But not soon. Over the decades.

Jonathan stood, letting the corpses of Elizabeth and Leonard collapse again, letting them truly rest. Then buried them. With his own hands. It was the least he could do.

Yes, time would prove who was right. But Jonathan had every intention of being better than Dracula had been. It shouldn't be difficult.

Besides...

"Time is on my side," Jonathan murmured, smiling. "I have all the time in the world, now."

END