12/22/2020 0 Comments PrologueSunday April 23, 2017 It had been a long time since Grigori Rasputin had entertained guests, though not just because of the amusing little incident in 1916. For the past 13 years, he had been on the run as his worst enemies had finally caught up with too and had been pursuing him ever since. Moving from place to place, never staying anywhere too long, he had spent over a decade in hiding. As frustrating as it was for a social man like himself, he had to hide to protect his surviving friends and family. It was too risky to get close to anyone.
But on his last excursion down the mountains to acquire the liquid all vampires needed to sustain themselves—that is, to say, blood—he saw someone for the first time since his days in school in the late 1800s: a woman named Rose Milliner. He was so shocked by her presence that he had almost accidentally severed the artery of the purse snatcher serving as his meal. She was standing at the entrance to the alley he was in, and he might have thought she was a mirage if she hadn’t called out “Raz?” in a tone that sounded as surprised as he’d felt. When he finally stood up and approached her, he knew for certain it was her as her left pupil was smaller than her right. It was medically known as mechanical anisocoria, a physical trait that carried over from her mortal life. He had not considered inviting her back to his cabin at first as he was content to quickly catch up before she fell into danger due to his presence; the absolute last thing he wanted was for her to get hurt, especially since that would invoke the wrath of her brother (someone far scarier than any of his enemies). However, during their chat, Rose let slip a bit of information that gave him pause: she was in contact with what remained of Dracula’s coven and knew their whereabouts. And just like that, for the first time in one-hundred years, Rasputin had felt a joyous wave of hope wash over him. He invited her back to his cabin to continue talking. After a long trek up a snowy mountain, he made steaming hot tea for both of them, which they slowly sipped as he prepared to tell her extremely good news. “Why’d we have to come here, Raz?” Rose shivered. The poor girl was not used to the cold like he was and, even bundled up by the fire, she seemed a bit uncomfortable. “It’s too chilly, it is.” “Because, I must give you something, and I leave it in this cabin, for obvious reasons.” “Give? You have a gift for me?” Rose asked curiously. “What is it? You haven’t thought about it yet, you haven’t.” “That is because I do not wish for our serpentine friend to find it,” Rasputin said quietly. “Though I am certain she will catch up to me soon. Which is all the more reason I give you this. Wait here, alright? I will be back in but a moment.” Rasputin stood up and quickly made his way down to the cellar. He shimmied past various barrels and crates filled with food until he reached a shelf resting against the back wall. He quickly shoved the shelf to the side and pushed what appeared to the unsuspecting eye to be a loose brick. On the contrary, however, this was not a brick but a button to open a slab of fake wall, which gave entry to his hidden study. Through the years, he had collected many mysterious and magical objects of varying degrees of impressiveness: crystal balls, ouija boards, golem activation scrolls… Yet, he had always thought the crown jewel of his collection was the severed head of his father’s old colleague, Gordon Ruthven, which, even now, was glaring at him from behind the glass case he was trapped in, surely wishing he could curse Rasputin out. But he had recently found something far, far more amazing than even the head of a member of the last Order of the Black Orchard. While visiting Hong Kong, he had come across an old vampire killer and discovered, in his possession, an item legends said had been crafted over a century ago by the blood mage jeweler Rhiannon Rhydderch. It was the ring of Dracula. He had always thought it to be nothing more than a desperate hopeful rumor that the Silverwings had concocted as they tried to save face in the wake of their most dismal of failures, but there it had been, guarded by a miserable old miser and his two sons. Rasputin had managed to walk away not only with the ring, but with a fresh new body as well, which his power had slowly transformed into his normal, bearded self within the month. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out the pitch black ring, complete with a dazzling ruby. He slipped it on his finger and concentrated, praying that he wasn’t insane and that this was exactly what he thought it was (something he had done many times by now because he could scarcely believe the truth). The weak, but familiar, voice of his old teacher rang out in his mind. “Grigori…” whispered Dracula. With an ecstatic grin and an extended middle finger to Ruthven’s severed head, he ran back upstairs, though not before carefully covering the secret entrance back up. Rose’s eyes immediately widened as he approached. Her powerful, involuntary telepathy most certainly heard exactly what he was thinking. She extended a nervous, quivering finger and pointed to the ring. “T-Teach…?” Rasputin nodded enthusiastically. “Dracula yet lives! And there is a way to revive him to his full form!” Rose leapt from her seat, her chills seemingly forgotten as a big smile came to her face. “We gotta tell Vicky! She’ll be so happy, she will!” Rasputin laughed. “We will! Or you will, at least! I should not leave so long as I hold father’s amulet, lest I attract undue attention to the coven. Ah, but still! It is a stroke of luck I even found you, Rose! I suppose it is truly as Amadeus would say, ‘everything happens fo—’” A knock on the door caused him to freeze instantly. No one ever came this far up the mountain besides him, which is why he had made his base here. This could only mean one thing: they’d found him. He grabbed Rose’s shoulders. “Listen to the instructions in my head. You must run, do you hear? Get this ring to Victoria, wherever she is, and tell her everything.” He thought the information she needed to know as hard as he could, then pointed to the cellar. “There is an escape tunnel hidden behind the barrels on the left-hand side. Use it!” With a frightened nod, Rose dashed down to the cellar while Rasputin straightened himself up and slowly headed to the door. He prayed he could buy Rose enough time to escape. He pulled the door open and quickly stepped back. If it was who he expected, they would not be able to enter. Peering out the open doorway, it was just as he expected. Standing outside in the snow were two people. In a classy blue-and-white winter ensemble was a sad-looking woman with short blonde hair and tired, beautiful blue eyes that he remembered once sparkled with youthful energy and joy, joy that was now muted by years of service to the fallen angel, Eve. Next to her, clad in a dark purple coat, was a man who had always mystified those who saw him. His dark hair, neatly trimmed facial hair, caramel-colored eyes, and brown skin made him seem as though he were Middle Eastern or Egyptian… and yet, at the same time, he clearly was not. There was a fleeting sense of familiarity to his features none could truly place, and he had a name as equally mysterious as he, himself, was. Rasputin grinned and spread his arms wide. “Marianna! Amon! It has been far too long! I would invite you in, but, well… I do not want either of you in my house!” Amon smirked at this. Marianna, meanwhile, stepped forward, wringing her hands nervously right at the edge of his doorway—as far as a vampire could go uninvited. “Rasputin, please,” she said softly. “We don’t want to fight. Just give us the amulet, and we’ll go.” Rasputin shook his head. “No can do! But, perhaps, I could interest you in the head of Lord Ruthven? He’s in my basement. Shall I fetch him?” “So that’s where he went,” Amon chuckled. “Grigori, you are quite the sly dog. Like father, like son, I suppose.” “Rasputin, she’s here. She’s going to come, and she’s not going to… She won’t be lenient. Please, I can’t bear to see you die,” Marianna pleaded. “We were friends once.” Rasputin shook his head. “Still are. I do not give up on my friends, no matter how misguided they become.” Marianna seemed utterly taken aback by this, stepping backwards with her hand over her chest until she bumped into Amon. The man put gentle, reassuring hands on her shoulders as her eyes began to water. She opened her mouth to speak, but was immediately cut off by an all-too-familiar greeting. “Why, hello there!” A chill ran down Rasputin’s spine as the source of the voice slithered into view. Eve, or Samael as she had been known once. The creator of vampirism, who had orchestrated Dracula’s death when he dared to oppose her wicked ways. “Ah, Sammy!” Rasputin exclaimed, trying his best to quell his fears as he faced the demon. “You look lovely as ever!” This, of course, was a lie; she looked absolutely rotten and corroded, as if she were a zombie. Patches of her skin were missing, revealing bones and a purple glow from within her body, and one of her eyes was missing. Her rattle, once gleaming and silver, was now crumpled and dull, and the crown of horns on her head was chipped and cracked. Perhaps the only parts of her that were remotely the same was the long, silver scar that went down her belly and her massive fangs, which glistened with one of her potent venoms. “Oh, you flatter me!” she hissed, her tone pleasant but her voice ragged and hoarse. “You also lie. You’re absolutely terrible at it. I know I look dreadful right now. That’s why I need you to hand over your father’s amulet, Grigori. You heard Marianna. Give it to me, and we’ll leave in peace.” He didn’t believe this for a second. Thankfully, Eve could not come in the house uninvited either, thanks to the curses his father had placed on her. So long as he didn’t speak her true name, she had to sit out in the snow with her cohorts. He was “safe”, relatively speaking, but he was sure she had a few tricks up her nonexistent sleeves. “I don’t know, Sammy, I am quite attached to it. It’s a gift from my father, after all. You understand, right?” “Not at all,” she replied. “But, you know, I suppose I can’t blame you for wanting to cling to your past like that. Cling to a better world, one where your precious little teacher walked about, defying my will... Thankfully, Marianna put an end to that, hm?” She wrapped her decaying tail around the woman’s legs. Marianna shivered in disgust, looking incredibly uncomfortable. “And why would she do such a thing?” He pointed at Eve. “You. And this is why you don’t get the amulet. You, Sammy, are a mean old bitch.” Eve stared at him for a moment, then threw back her head and let out a raspy, hissing cackle. “Oh, you are too funny! Say, do you want me to tell that joke to your little friend fleeing down the mountain? Or would you rather me just kill her and save the jokes for someone else?” Shit, he thought, sweat coming to his brow despite the cold weather. “You… Your issues are with me, not her. Leave her be.” It was a dumb thing to ask, but it was worth a shot. Eve tapped her chin with her tail. “Hmmm, well, that’s the thing, isn’t it? You can either let her die and keep the amulet, or you can give me the amulet and let her live. The choice is yours!” “And why should I trust you?” “You have my word, Rasputin,” Amon stated clearly. “I would think this girl is more useful to us alive, anyway. If that was who I think it is, she might very well lead us right to Dracula’s coven. Perhaps I’ll send the big vampire killer families to tail her…” Internally, Rasputin smirked. Unbeknownst to them, this was exactly agreeable enough for him to acquiesce slightly. “Well, I guess I cannot argue with that. Which of you wishes to go and get it? Oh, right, you can’t!” Eve was muttering something quickly and quietly, then gave Rasputin a cheerful look with her good eye. “Oh, we have someone who can.” Rasputin looked at her, confused. “What are y—” The sound of glass shattering behind him caused him to turn. A woman with brown, frizzy hair with scars extending outward from the corners of her mouth and violet eyes that appeared glazed-over was standing behind him. She was clad entirely in black leather. In her hand was a long, jagged whip made of pure silver that bore a resemblance to a human spine. Rasputin sighed. “Ah. A Lovett.” He leapt out of the way just as her whip cracked in his direction and he fired a lightning bolt at her, sending her careening into some shelves against the opposite wall. He knew it wasn’t going to do much good; Lovetts were bred to be anti-magic supersoldiers. He hoped, at the very least, this might slow her down. His hopes were dashed rather quickly, however, when she almost immediately got back up on her feet, cracked her whip, and wrapped it around his hand. The burning sensation from the silver touching his skin was absolutely agonizing, more so than anything else he had ever felt. With a quick jab of his fist, he smashed his own wrist and watched as the whip severed the damaged appendage. I will definitely have to get a new body after this, Rasputin sighed internally as he leapt out the nearby window. A crashing sound followed as the Lovett woman chased after him, her boots crunching through the snow as he made a mad dash for the nearby cliff. Blood dripped in the snow from the bleeding stump where his hand used to be. Searing pain came from his ankle, stunting his progress. He twisted his head around to see the Lovett woman forcefully dragging him back towards her with her silver whip. Cursing under his breath, Rasputin fired a spell at his ankle, blowing his foot off and sending the woman flying back yet again. As quickly as he could, he dragged himself through the snow over to the edge of the cliff. As he got closer, he turned to see the woman approaching him once again. This time, though, he knew she wouldn’t be able to catch him in time. “Dasvidaniya,” Rasputin spat out before pulling himself over the side of the cliff with one quick motion. As he fell down the mountain, he thought of Rose and prayed Amon would keep his word. It would be quite a long time before he could see her again, that much was certain; he’d need to find a new body first. But even more than Rose, he thought of Eve, who now had the final key she needed to restore herself to her full power. The work that Dracula and his father had accomplished all those years ago was about to become undone, and who knew what could happen from there? He prayed things would be alright before he finally hit the ground below. For that body, it was the end of the line. A red, spider-like membrane detached itself from the corpse and skittered off into the wilderness. Rasputin was unkillable; his vampiric ability was the secret to that success. Now was the time to hide and await a new body to turn into his own. Until then, he could only hope that Rose would deliver the good news to Victoria and that, against all odds, the coven might be able to restore their former glory.
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AuthorsMichael & Tierney Ford Archives
July 2023
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