Van Helsing

Bathory led Darius into the hold of the ship. There he found her coffin…and an elderly man chained. The man coughed, and looked frail, but there was a defiant look in his eyes. “Release me, fiend of hell.” He growled.

“Ah, Van Helsing, my old ‘friend’, it saddens me to see you like this.” Said Bathory in a mock sweet voice; clearly she was being sarcastic.

Darius was taken aback. “Van Helsing? As in Abraham Van Helsing?”

Bathory chuckled. “Not quite, but close. This is Rudolph Van Helsing, the great-grandson of that infamous vampire Hunter.”

“Then that means Dracula was real?” Said Darius.

“Yes.” She said wistfully. “My Master was real. It was he who turned me. He who first enslaved me…then I was freed…though I did not wish it, when this fool killed that great man. That legend of the undead…and legend of the living. For it was Vlad Dracula who terrified the hordes of the Turks, first in life, then in in death.” She paused and looked at Darius. “And you, Darius Drago, are…was…the living descendant of Dracula. For in life he gave birth to a son. It has always been your destiny to be his heir. One day Dracula’s castle will be yours.”

Darius was stunned, but before he could say anything Rudolph spit at him. “Curse you, and the blood that bore you. If you, and this witch, kill me, my granddaughter and protégée Scarlet will avenge me.”