Chapter I

October 1887

England

Greg walked carefully inside the castle's ball room. The only light inside the room was that from the moon. The dusty, colorful glass on the big windows, reflected the light evenly on the walls and the floor, but it wasn't necessary. Greg's vision was heightened and he could easily see in the darkness. He was holding his sword at the level of his eyes and stopped when he heard a crawling sound. She was here.

The Lamia crawled and came to sit in the centre of the room. She was a beautiful woman. Her long, golden hair covered her naked torso and her big, green eyes stared at him. Fresh blood was running down her neck and she curled her giant, black, snake tail around her upper body. She sat still and observed Greg, a smile appearing on her luscious lips.

''Come to die, my handsome man? I have to admit, I prefer younger and softer flesh, but for you I'll make an exception.'', she said with a smile.

Gregory curled his lips in disgust. Lamias were known for devouring new born babies and children. This particular one had already feasted upon ten innocent souls. The blood on her lips was from her eleventh victim, but tonight it would be over. After three weeks of chasing, she was finally in front of him and this would be the final confrontation.

''You won't feel a thing.'', she said smiling and then opened her mouth, revealing a series of huge and sharp teeth. She rose to her full height, using her tail as support and was ready to attack.

''Now John!'', cried Greg, surprising the Lamia. The swift sound of the arrow crossing the air was music to Greg's ears, as he saw the iron chandelier falling and trapping the creature. She screamed and tried to release herself from the circular trap but it was no good. Then, another young man appeared next to Greg holding a bow. He fired another arrow, which went through her belly, making the Lamia bleed heavily. The black liquid rolled freely and she collapsed. She was in horrible pain now and it was time to finish her.

As she was dying, her body started to shrink. Her tail transformed into legs and her eyes seemed wide from realization and fear. Now, the monster had disappeared, living in its place a young weeping woman.

''Finish her.'', said John in a broken voice. Greg approached the dying woman and heard her soft cries. ''Please.'', she whispered. He grabbed her hair gently, brought his sword to her throat and in a decisive move he cut it open, the red, warm liquid painting his hand. ''May you rest in peace'', he said to the woman who was now dead in his hands. He placed her head on the floor and wiped the blood with his cloth. He turned to see John, his blue eyes strong, but misty. He took a crystal jar of oil out of his sack and poured it all over the dead woman's body. Then he took one step back, lit a match and threw it to her, watching the flames consuming her, covering her like a red blanket.

''Why do we have to witness their transformation as they die Greg?'', said John in a quiet tone.

''I don't know.'', he responded grimly as they watched her body slowly turning into ashes.

Transylvania

Mycroft walked down the castle's corridor to reach the library. As he walked past his brother's room, he heard loud moans of pleasure coming from the other side of the door. He was sure that Sherlock entertained a young man or woman, although this century he preferred male companions. He continued walking and eventually reached the end of the corridor. He opened the heavy, wooden door and entered the huge room. He made himself comfortable at his desk, dipped his pen in the ink and started writing some letters.

He and his brother had settled in Transylvania fifty years ago. They hunted from the village that was in the foot of the hill, were their castle was built. Three people every four months or so had enough blood to feed them. Until one day, the villagers started calling vampire hunters. Those people were not vampire hunters, merely charlatans, but even though they couldn't kill them, it was quite annoying having men with stakes bursting into the castle. So Mycroft used his skills and made a deal with the villagers. He, his brother and his brides would accept offers. In return they would not kill to feed. The villagers quickly agreed and every month young men and women came.

First it was difficult, but after forty years they came willingly and more times than they should. No one could resist the pleasure a vampire's bite and frankly he and his brother were quite irresistible. The door creaked as Sherlock opened it and entered. He was wearing only his black pants, black riding boots and was holding a riding crop, which he waved around. He collapsed onto the couch with a sigh. His fangs were still elongated and he was licking the excess blood on his lips.

''I would prefer if you didn't parade naked around the castle Sherlock. We all know what you were doing a few moments ago.'', said Mycroft without raising his head from his letter. Sherlock smirked.

''Are you jealous of my looks, dear brother? If you take off that hideous red velvet waistcoat, you will not be bad looking!''

Mycroft raised an eyebrow and sighed. After six hundred years he didn't care any longer about his brother's comments, regarding his appearance.

''Who was your dinner guest tonight?''

''That Erik, the baker's boy.'', he said and waved his hand vaguely. ''He comes every other week. Not that he tastes bad... His blood and looks are far better than his sister's. What's her name? The little mousey girl.''

''Molly. Her name is Molly, brother. You forget so easily.''

''I don't forget, it's simply not important. I erased her name from my memory after the last time I told her not to come back. Her blood tasted so... boring!'', he said and sighed heavily.

Although Sherlock didn't mind any kind of blood, he wanted his willing victims to have some sort of experience. An undying passion for adventure and thrill. That could make their blood taste so much better. Mycroft liked the aristocracy. At the current moment he had find a steady food source in the lovely neck of Lady Anthea Valerious, a beautiful woman, who was bored to death of her husband, Lord Valerious.

''Mycroft I'm bored! I hate Transylvania! I want to go back to Paris!'', he groaned.

''You loved it when we first came. May I remind you that you were the one who insisted.''

''That was fifty years ago! There's nothing new here! I want to go back to Paris! Feel the corruption, the fright and the thrill in my victims' blood! I am a Vampire Lord, I want to be feared! Here, we have a stupid truce with the boring villagers! They want it and they don't fear us any longer! Something must be done!'', he cried in frustration and got up. With inhuman speed Mycroft got up from his chair, grabbed his brother's throat and pinned him on the couch.

''You will not do a thing Sherlock! You will not destroy what I've created. Do you hear me?'', he hissed, his fangs now elongated. Sherlock didn't move. Although he hated to admit it, his brother was far more powerful than him, both physically and mentally. He merely smiled innocently.

''Oh, brother dear! You wouldn't hurt your own blood! What would Mummy say?''

Mycroft narrowed his eyes. He reluctantly withdrew his fangs and removed his hand from Sherlock's throat. He then walked across the room and sat at the marble window bench. He looked outside. The night was cold and there was snow all over the castle grounds, hills and mountains.

''I always hope that some night an interesting vampire hunter will appear in the castle and we'll have some fun! It's your fault that no one comes any longer!'', sighed Sherlock who was lying on the couch once again, playing with his riding crop.

''I don't like strangers with holy water and crucifixes burst into our family's castle.''

''But they can't hurt us!''

''Still, they invaded and contaminated the house we were born. I couldn't stand that. Though, to cheer you up, I'm going to tell you something.''

''What is it?'', asked Sherlock eagerly. Mycroft looked out of the window and started drumming his pale fingers on his thigh.

''Something's coming. I don't know what, I don't know when, I don't even know how, but I can feel it. And it is powerful.'', he said and continued staring into the night.

Vatican

Greg and John entered St. Peter's Basilica. They were both quiet and the only thing they could hear were some priests, who were praying and the echoes of their footsteps as they walked in the nave. They reached a door that was guarded by a man. Once he saw them, he unlocked and stepped aside, revealing a stony, circular staircase, that led bellow the ground. They started descending it and they heard the door behind them closing and locking. When they finally reached the end of the stairs they found themselves in front of an iron door.

Greg removed his triangular copper ring from his finger and putted it against a special alcove. He twisted it three times on the left and one on the right. He heard the multiples locks open and after that he opened it to revile a busy laboratory.

Inside the huge room, they were monks and craftsmen who invented new weapons, discovered new chemicals and, along with Greg and John, belonged to the Order of the Dragon's Knights. This Order, blessed by the Pope himself, was founded two hundred years ago and its purpose was to protect the human kind from unearthly creatures. Here, under the grounds of the Vatican, was the Order's headquarters. A man approached the newly arrivals.

''You succeeded in your task. Well done. Although I would prefer if you were more discreet.'', said father Alfonso, one of the Order's generals.

''They wouldn't hunted us down if the Order protected us!'', said John angrily and held a poster in front of the priest's face. In it was a picture of the two men, with scarves over their mouths and a reward for their heads.

''The Van Helsing brothers. At least they don't know your true relationship, John.'', said the priest. John eyed him angrily.

''We are being chased around Europe, as common killers. We can't kill monsters and fight the angry mob at the same time. You have to do something'', said Greg calmly.

''Helping you would compromise the secrecy of our Order. God has given you this task, not us. We merely provide you with the means. It's your responsibility to remain hidden and protect yourselves.''

''Yes and while He's doing nothing, we are the ones who have to see the creatures going back into their original form as they die!'', cried John in frustration.

''Don't blaspheme! You have to stay focused to your task.'', replied the priest. John sighed and walked away to test some new weapons.

''Your cousin is very impatient and angry. You should teach him more discipline.'', said Alfonso and waved at Greg to follow him.

''He is young, father. I can hardly blame him. After our last trip to England, with that young woman, he's been more sensitive. He's right, though. It's hard to watch their faces as they die.''

''I understand that the age of twenty eight is considered young these days. But don't forget that your fathers were much younger than yourselves, when they fought for the Order. You are his senior by three years and therefore he is your responsibility. You have to control him, Gregory. Don't disappoint me. As for the people you kill, it is a test to your faith.''

''It is very hard.'', sighed Greg.

''It is the right path. Of course it's hard.'', said the old man. ''Now, your next station is Transylvania. You will head for a village, near the city of Sibiu. Your task is to face two vampires who live in the castle. They had a truce for forty years with the citizens, but last month, when a man killed a vampire bride, it was broken and now they have revenge on them by kidnapping, torturing and killing at least three people a week.''

''Fine, we'll need new swords and bows.'', said John who magically appeared next to them.

''You've never fought a vampire before?'', asked the priest.

''Vampires, warlocks, banshees, they are all the same. Stick them with a sword in the heart, cut their heads off and you're done.'', said Greg.

''Not these two. They are true born! They were born vampires and therefore are very strong. You will need holy water, crucifixes and we've prepared new weapons for you. Follow me.'', Alfonso said and motioned to them. They entered a small room and found young Carl. Carl was a brilliant scientist with a tendency to swear. He was the one who was responsible for the equipment of the two cousins.

''Greg! John! Where the fuck have you been?'', he said and immediately father Alfonso slapped him in the back of his head.

''Carl I'll let you inform them, but I'll be in the next room! Don't blaspheme!'', said the priest and exited.

''Crazy old man!'', whispered Carl. ''Now! For you John I have this.'', he said and placed a silver crossbow in John's hands. ''This crossbow can fire up to thirty arrows at a time. I'll give you a bag with extra arrows, but try not to lose them!''

''Can I fire?'', asked John eagerly.

''Feel free.'', said Carl and John started firing all over the room with a big smile on his lips.

''Jesus, don't kill us! Save them for the vampires, you are going to need a lot of that! As for you Gregory, I have this.'', he said and opened a case. Inside there was a beautiful, long sword and two small daggers. Greg took it in his arms and waved it to test its balance.

''It's a masterpiece!'', he said as he caressed the black leather on the handle.

''I know! Those two daggers have a special pressure point in the middle of the handle. If you press it lightly...'', he said and squeezed the handle. Immediately the blade was pulled inside the handle and four smaller ones appeared around it, creating a star.

''I'm very impressed Carl!'', said Greg as he took it and threw it on the wall to test it.

''Try not to cut yourself when you change the blades. Also, you are going to need these.'', he said and handed them two silver crucifixes decorated with a big blue sapphire in the middle.

''We already have our crucifixes.'', said John.

''Not like these two. Once again I've created a marvel! Press the sapphire and...'', he pressed it and then the crucifix folded creating a double bladed knife.

''Why so many knives?'', asked Greg.

''They are going to move fast... you never know when a creature like that is going to pine you against a wall. Better be prepared to fight them with smaller weapons!'', replied Carl.

He then gave them heavy, leather coats with multiple pockets, new riding boots with special cases filled with small daggers, two sacks with holy water, crucifixes, stakes, silver chains and other weapons and finally two new capes.

The journey to Transylvania was about to begin.