Page 54 of Dracula: Bound in Blood

Van Helsing straightened, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “How predictable,” he sneered. “The vampyre’s whore, returning to join his master in hell.”

Jonathan’s fists clenched at his sides. “What have you done with Dracula?” he demanded. “And if you’ve hurt my dog, I swear I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Van Helsing laughed, the sound echoing off the damp walls. “Kill me? You’re nothing but a weak, pathetic human, corrupted by that monster’s influence. Your dog is the least of your concerns now.”

With lightning speed, Van Helsing lunged forward. Jonathan tried to dodge, but the hunter was too fast, too strong. They crashed to the ground, Jonathan’s head slamming against the packed earth. Stars exploded behind his eyes as Van Helsing pinned him down, one hand pressing against his throat.

“You led us right to him,” Van Helsing hissed, his face inches from Jonathan’s. “Your weakness, your foolish devotion, will be his undoing. But you won’t live to see it. Die knowing you betrayed the very creature you sought to protect!”

Jonathan struggled, clawing at Van Helsing’s arm, but it was like trying to move a mountain. Black spots danced at the edges ofhis vision as his lungs burned for air. This couldn’t be how it ended, not when he’d come so far, risked everything...

Suddenly, the air seemed to vibrate. A low rumble filled the basement, growing in intensity until it drowned out even Jonathan’s heart. Van Helsing’s eyes widened in shock as the mound of earth in the stone coffin exploded upward.

Dirt rained down as a figure burst forth – Dracula, his eyes blazing with fury, his form more beast than man. He moved with impossible speed, tearing Van Helsing away from Jonathan and hurling him across the room.

Jonathan gasped for air, coughing and sputtering as he struggled to his feet. The scene before him was like something out of a nightmare. Dracula and Van Helsing clashed in a torrent of violence, their movements too fast for human eyes to follow.

Van Helsing produced a stake from his coat, its tip gleaming wickedly in the lamplight. He thrust it towards Dracula’s heart, but the was ready. Dracula caught Van Helsing’s wrist, the wood splintering in his grip. With his other hand, he raked his claws across the hunter’s chest, leaving deep, bloody furrows.

The vial glinted in Van Helsing’s hand. Jonathan lunged for the splintered chair leg, his fingers closing around rough wood. He pivoted, swinging wildly. The makeshift club connected with a sickening crack. Van Helsing crumpled, the vial shattering on impact. Liquid splashed across the floor, sizzling where it touched Dracula’s skin.

Van Helsing roared in fury, rounding on Jonathan with murder in his eyes.

But Dracula was there instantly, placing himself between Jonathan and the hunter. The two immortal enemies circled each other, neither willing to give ground. Jonathan could see the toll the fight was taking on Dracula – his movements were slower, less fluid than before. How long had he been buried, weakened, and vulnerable?

Van Helsing seemed to sense Dracula’s fatigue. He pressed his advantage, raining down blows with inhuman speed and strength. Dracula parried and dodged, but each movement was a fraction slower than the last.

A vicious uppercut sent Dracula reeling. Van Helsing pressed forward, and the stake rose high. “This ends now, monster!” he cried triumphantly.

“No!” Jonathan screamed. Time seemed to slow as he hurled himself forward, tackling Van Helsing from behind. The stake clattered to the ground as they tumbled together, Jonathan clinging to the hunter’s back like a desperate child.

Van Helsing snarled, reaching back to grab Jonathan by the hair. With a brutal twist, he flung the young man across the room. Jonathan’s body slammed into the stone wall with a sickening thud. He crumpled to the ground, dazed and gasping for breath.

Through blurred vision, Jonathan saw Dracula’s face contort with a rage unlike anything he’d ever witnessed. The vampyre’sform seemed to grow, to darken, becoming something unholy and terrible. With a roar that shook dust from the ceiling, Dracula launched himself at Van Helsing.

What followed was a frenzy of violence too brutal for Jonathan’s mind to fully comprehend. Claws tore flesh, fangs rended bone. Blood – both human and vampyre – spattered the walls and floor. The very air crackled with the intensity of their hatred.

When it was over, Van Helsing lay broken and bleeding on the earthen floor. His chest heaved with labored breaths, his eyes wide with disbelief and fear. “Impossible,” he wheezed. “I can’t die... not until I’ve avenged her...”

A new voice cut through the tension like a knife. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that.”

All eyes turned to the ladder, where Andor now stood, a cruel smile playing on his lips. Before anyone could react, he moved with preternatural speed, his hand plunging into Van Helsing’s chest. The hunter’s eyes bulged, a choked gasp escaping his lips.

“You see,” Andor continued conversationally, as if he weren’t elbow-deep in a man’s chest cavity, “before you die I want you to know that you’ve been chasing the wrong vampyre all this time. It was I who killed your precious wife. And I must say, she was absolutely delicious.”

Van Helsing tried to speak, his mouth working soundlessly. But whatever words he might have uttered were lost forever as thelight faded from his eyes. With a wet, sickening sound, Andor withdrew his hand, letting the lifeless body fall to the ground.

A heavy silence fell over the basement, broken only by the ragged breathing of its occupants. Jonathan stared in horror at the scene before him, his mind struggling to process the brutal turn of events. Dracula stood motionless, his eyes fixed on Andor with an unreadable expression.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Andor hefted Van Helsing’s lifeless body over his shoulder, blood dripping onto the earthen floor. He turned to Jonathan and Dracula, his eyes glinting in the dim lamplight.

“The last of the hunters are taken care of,” he said, his voice low and tinged with satisfaction. “But word will spread quickly. The fall of Castle Dracula... some will see it as a sign of weakness.”

Dracula’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing at the implications.

Andor continued, “I’m leaving Transylvania. Too many memories, too many ghosts.” He paused, glancing between them. “You’d be wise to do the same.”

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