27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

T he underground chamber shook with another violent tremor, dust and small debris raining down from the ceiling. Jonathan stumbled, catching himself on one of the ornate coffins. Andor strode towards the chamber’s exit.

“Stay here,” he commanded, his voice brooking no argument. “The hunters will kill you on sight if they find you. You’re safer down here.”

Before Jonathan could protest, Andor was gone, vanishing up the stairs with inhuman speed. Left alone in the eerie silence of the tomb, Jonathan’s mind raced. The sounds of battle filtered down from above – crashes, shouts, and an occasional inhuman shriek that made his blood run cold.

Upstairs, chaos reigned. Van Helsing and his hunters had launched a surprise attack, catching even Dracula off guard. The great hall of the castle had become a battlefield, with hunters wielding crossbows, silver-tipped stakes, and blessed weapons facing off against Dracula’s supernatural strength and speed.

Dracula was a blur of motion, his claws raking through the air as he fended off multiple attackers at once. Bodies littered the floor – some hunters, and some lesser vampyres who had answered Dracula’s call. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid smell of gunpowder.

As Andor burst into the fray, Van Helsing’s eyes widened in shock. “Another one!” he bellowed, his voice carrying over the din of battle. “Keep pressing the attack, men! We can’t let them regroup!”

Andor’s arrival seemed to turn the tide momentarily. He moved with fluid grace, dodging arrows and slashing at hunters with deadly precision. But Van Helsing was no ordinary opponent. The Vampyre hunter seemed to anticipate their moves, matching their supernatural speed with an uncanny ability of his own.

Outside the castle, a group of hunters worked feverishly, piling kindling and dousing the walls with oil. At Van Helsing’s signal, they set the blaze, flames licking up the ancient stones with unnatural speed.

Dracula’s nostrils flared as the scent of smoke reached him. His eyes widened in horror as he realized the hunters’ plan. With a snarl of rage, he dispatched the two hunters nearest to him and launched himself towards the upper floors. In his mind, there was only one thought: Jonathan.

Meanwhile, in the underground chamber, Jonathan paced restlessly. The sounds of battle above had intensified, and now he could smell smoke. His heart raced with worry – not for himself, but for Dracula. Despite everything he had learned, despite the horrors he had witnessed in the East Wing, he couldn’t bear the thought of Dracula coming to harm.

Making a split-second decision, he grabbed an old, unlit torch from a bracket on the wall. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it was better than nothing. He ascended the stairs, emerging into the chaos of the main castle.

The scene that greeted him was like something out of a nightmare. Bodies lay strewn across the floor, blood staining the stones. Smoke billowed through the halls, and the crackle of flames could be heard in the distance. Jonathan coughed, his eyes watering as he tried to make sense of the mayhem around him.

Andor materialized beside him, his clothes splattered with blood. “What are you doing?” he hissed. “I told you to stay below! You need to escape – there’s a secret passage in the tomb that leads out of the castle.”

Jonathan shook his head stubbornly. “I won’t leave without Dracula. Where is he?”

Before Andor could answer, a familiar voice rang out from above. “Jonathan!”

Looking up, Jonathan’s heart leaped as he saw Dracula on the upper balcony. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the chaos around them seemed to fade away. But the moment was shattered as Dracula’s voice cried out in warning.

“Behind you!”

Jonathan began to turn, but it was too late. Van Helsing, moving with impossible speed, was upon him. The hunter’s blade flashed in the firelight, and Jonathan felt a searing pain across his back. He stumbled, crying out in agony as he fell to the floor.

Dracula’s roar of fury shook the very foundations of the castle. In an instant, his form shifted, growing larger, more monstrous. Leathery wings unfurled, and his face elongated into a bestial snout filled with razor-sharp teeth. The giant bat-like creature that Dracula had become launched itself from the balcony, hurtling towards Van Helsing with murderous intent.

But Van Helsing was ready. As Dracula descended upon him, the hunter moved with inhuman agility, dodging the massive claws and retaliating with his blessed weapons. It was as if he could anticipate Dracula’s every move, matching the vampyre’s supernatural abilities with his own inexplicable skills.

Andor watched the battle with growing confusion and suspicion. How was this possible? Van Helsing was just a man, wasn’t he? As he scanned the room, searching for an explanation, his eyes fell upon a familiar figure slipping away amidst the chaos.

Vigo.

In that moment, everything clicked into place. Somehow, Vigo had been helping Van Helsing, he must have fed the Hunter Dracula’s blood!

Without a second thought, Andor took off in pursuit of his former lover. They disappeared into the smoky halls of the castle, leaving the main battle behind.

The fight between Dracula and Van Helsing was like nothing the hunters had ever seen. The massive bat-creature that was Dracula seemed to fill the entire hall, his wings creating gusts of wind that fanned the flames spreading through the castle. Van Helsing darted and weaved, his movements a blur as he struck at Dracula with his silver-tipped weapons.

But for all his newfound abilities, Van Helsing was still human at his core. As the battle raged on, he began to tire, his movements slowing ever so slightly. Dracula, driven by rage and fear for Jonathan, pressed his advantage.

With a mighty sweep of his wing, Dracula sent Van Helsing crashing into a wall. The hunter slumped to the ground, dazed but still conscious. Dracula loomed over him, ready to deliver the final blow.

“Retreat!” Van Helsing bellowed, his voice hoarse but commanding. “Fall back, all of you!”

The remaining hunters didn’t need to be told twice. They broke away from their individual fights, supporting their wounded comrades as they made for the exit and leaving the dead behind. Dracula watched them go, every fiber of his being screaming to pursue, to end this threat once and for all.

But a weak groan from behind him stayed his hand. Jonathan.

In an instant, Dracula’s form shifted back to his human appearance, strong and naked and caked in gore. He rushed to Jonathan’s side, gently turning the young man over. The wound on Jonathan’s back was deep, blood seeping through his torn shirt at an alarming rate.

“Jonathan,” Dracula whispered, cradling the young man’s face in his hands. “Stay with me. Don’t close your eyes.”

Jonathan’s eyelids fluttered, his gaze unfocused. “Dracula,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the crackling of the flames. “You’re... alright...”

Dracula felt a surge of emotion unlike anything he had experienced in centuries. This beautiful, fragile human had been worried about him, even as he lay bleeding on the cold stone floor.

But now, Dracula faced an impossible choice. Jonathan was losing blood rapidly. Without intervention, he would die. Dracula could save him, but at what cost?

If he gave Jonathan his blood now, it would be the third time. The change would begin, irreversibly setting Jonathan on the path to becoming a vampyre. But there was no guarantee it would work. The memories of his past failures, the twisted creatures locked away in the East Wing, haunted him. His eternal mistakes, creatures created out of loneliness and desperation. He hadn’t loved them, he knew they only used him for the gift, but at the time he was chasing a past obsession, and addiction he had been slowly but surely kicking with time. Now, things were different, he couldn’t bring himself to toy with this young man’s life so callously. Could he risk subjecting Jonathan to that fate?

Time seemed to slow as Dracula weighed his options. He could hear Jonathan’s heartbeat growing weaker with each passing second. The fire was spreading, the heat becoming unbearable even for him. They needed to leave, now.

With a heavy heart, Dracula made his decision. He couldn’t risk it – couldn’t bear the thought of Jonathan becoming one of those pitiful, malformed creatures. Better to try and save him as a human than condemn him to an eternity of suffering.

In one fluid motion, Dracula scooped Jonathan into his arms. The young man’s head lolled against his chest, his breathing shallow and labored. With a last look at the burning ruin of his ancestral home, Dracula made for the exit.

The cool night air hit them like a physical force as they emerged from the inferno. Dracula didn’t stop, using his supernatural speed to put distance between them and the burning castle. Behind them, the structure that had stood for centuries began to collapse, flames reaching toward the sky like grasping fingers.