Page 51 of The Shadow of the Count
“Donnie! Fight him! Fight him, dammit!”
From the hallway, Charles began to pray, loudly.
A terrible growl sounded, and he remembered how Lyle had recoiled from the cross. So he made the sign of it with his fingers. “Leave me in the name of God.”
The beast hissed, and the door bowed, the timbers shaking.
“It’s giving! Keep praying!”
“Oh God. I need you. I’ve called on you before, in the catacombs of Paris.” And that had brought Douglas back to him then. “Get back from me.”
The door burst open, and Douglas pounced on the beast. “Leave him alone!”
The beast lifted Douglas like he weighed nothing, throwing him across the room and sending him crashing against the wall.
“Douglas!” Charles charged into the room, brandishing a cross. “You leave them alone, you bastard!”
The beast backed away, fangs bared, blood dripping from them. His blood. Donnie grabbed his throat, trying to staunch the flow.
“Out!” Charles advanced, steadfast, hand not even shaking. Donnie was so proud of him. “In God’s name, get out. You are not welcome here!”
The beast retreated out the window that led outside, and Charles didn’t waver until it was well gone. Then he ran to Donald to hand him the cross and help him press a towel to the wound before checking on Douglas.
“Someone call an ambulance! There’s been another attack!”
Charles could scream when he needed to, his voice bouncing off the ceiling and walls.
“Douglas?”
“He’s out, Donnie. He’s hurt. Hold your throat.”
“Where’s Peter?” He croaked it out. Why wasn’t Peter here?
Charles was back with him for a moment, pressing his hand harder to his throat, the towel to his neck to staunch the bleeding. “They found out where the count was staying. Douglas offered to stay since you and I were sleeping. I’m sure they thought they would be back by now.”
Charles grabbed pillows and moved to prop one under Douglas’s head and one under his feet.
“I can’t feel my legs…” Douglas moaned, and Donnie’s heart stopped.
“Just be still, Douglas. You hit hard and you’re stunned.” How could Charles sound so calm? How? If his throat didn’t hurt so bad, he would be screaming.
The butler came up, gaped for a second, and then added pressure to the wound on his throat. “Stay still, sir. Help is coming.”
He gurgled, but he felt so weak. “Peter…”
“The others,” Charles said. “Are they back yet?”
“No, sir.”
“Then we need to send a runner to Carmilla Abbey. The count is up and about, and they don’t need to be ambushed by him.”
Peter… The world began to narrow to a blurry pinpoint.
Donnie sighed softly, the pounding in his ears the only thing he heard as the world went black.
* * *
Carmilla Abbey was a hulking old building near the botanical gardens. As the crow flew, it wasn’t far from Lyle’s family’s city manor, and both buildings seemed far removed from the bustling city around them when they passed from one to another.
