[The cover image for this story is a screenshot from Interview with a Vampire (Warner Bros., 1994). No copyright infringement intended.]

In celebration of the 10th anniversary of the film Van Helsing, which premiered 10 years ago on the 3rd and was released in theaters world-wide on the 7th (which also happens to be when I saw it), I present to you this one-shot. It takes place a little over a year after the defeat of Count Dracula and we find that the Valerious line did not end with the death of princess Anna. This one-shot is also a prologue of sorts to my story The Last of Us.

Unfortunately I haven't been able to get this into the hands of my beta, so the offering before you has been edited by only one pair of eyes - my own. I've done my best to catch any and all errors, but I'm only human and I'm certain I missed a few things, so please forgive me.

Would appreciate any feedback you have to offer! Enjoy!

The Dragon and a Valerious

Never in her entire life had a summer's day been so beautiful. The trees and foliage of the surrounding forest, with their deep shades of green, suddenly seemed brighter as the sun streamed through the breeze-rustled canopy above. Nor had the sky ever been so glorious, and the last thing Raynora wanted to do on a day such as this was the laundry. She wanted to immerse herself in the cool, clear water of the river, and then leap up like a bird and take flight into the sky with the clouds beneath her and the eternal heavens above. Oh how she envied the little birds that sang and flew, dancing playfully in the air. How she longed for wings of her own, wings that would allow her fly far, far away from provinciality, a life that in her mind had been wasted in these mountains, a good distance from any serviceable road or town of consequence.

She didn't belong here.

She had understood this fact long before her fraternal twin, Verena, had. At least Verena had managed to escape it, though – yet in Raynora's mind, the convent her sister had chosen wasn't exactly better than the life she was living now. Raynora craved adventure, danger, intrigue, romance – excitements that were greatly lacking in her existence. As she dunked the linens under the cool water, soon taking a coarse brush to the material to work out the stains, her mind quickly began to wander as it usually did, in an effort to dispel the monotony.

The soft summer breeze caressed the gently tanned skin of her neck, weaving out several locks of her dark auburn hair from its confines so they tickled her cheek. She imagined the deft fingers of a tall, dark, and handsome prince, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, swearing his love to her and promising to take her away to his castle. She could almost hear the deep richness of his voice in her mind, the sound of her name on his tongue, those fingers running down the column of her spine before dipping around her waist, to her thigh…

A faint blush reddened her cheeks as the day-dream continued and her washing slowed to a halt, her fingers clenching the material as her mind continued to wander into the more nefariously wicked corners of her brain. Before the fantasy could go too far, however, her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden rustling in the bushes behind her and her eyes snapped open as she turned around quickly to catch whomever had been spying on her. She felt slightly conflicted upon finding no one there – relieved that she was still alone, yet disconcerted because the maker of the noise was unknown.

She returned to her work, though a little more cautiously this time, stopping when she suddenly heard the rustling again. Raynora stood and turned in the direction of the noise.

"Who's there?" she called out in demanding tones that were meant for a lady of higher standing, yet she used them with expertise. "Show yourself at once!"

When met with only the reply of additional rustling, she lifted up her skirt and retrieved a small dagger that had been sheathed in her thigh-high boots and she held it in front of her defensively.

"I'm warning you! I'm armed, and am not afraid to defend myself!"

She waited for the culprit to reveal himself, but he never did. So she took a cautious step forward, knife still in hand, and nearly leapt out of her skin when a dark black wolf suddenly made itself known. Its eyes were a mesmerizing blue and the fear that suddenly overtook her had her frozen in place, staring at the beast. But the wolf never snarled at her, nor did it bite or howl. Instead, it stood there, motionless, looking directly into her eyes as if it knew her. There was something strange about that wolf, she thought to herself, gradually feeling her muscles relax the longer she stood there.

When she made a move to lower the blade, the wolf suddenly turned and ran back into the forest. Raynora called out to it for some unknown reason, as if possessed by the notion that the beast was not what it seemed. Abandoning her chores, she took off into the forest after the animal, weaving in and out of the thick trees as she ascended into the mountains. The wolf seemed to wait for her when she was lagging behind, taking off again the moment she caught up. It was as though the beast wanted her to follow him, and she did, unsure of why she felt the need to do so. She just knew she had to.

Raynora quickly lost all track of time as the summer sun rose high into the afternoon sky, the woods becoming more and more unfamiliar to her.

After some time, her lungs soon burned, her mouth dry as she paused once again, wiping the sweat from her brow. The wolf has sensed her temporary halt and turned to look back at her as she took her in surroundings for the first time. She didn't recognize where she was in the mountains, but the view was absolutely breathtaking, the sun still high up in the air. Finding a little puddle of water in between the rocks of the climbing mountains, she allowed herself a moment of rest as she fell to her knees to scoop up the snowmelt, bringing the chilled liquid to her parched lips and sighing as she felt it go down her throat and settle in her belly.

The physical exertion of following the wolf for what felt like miles had exhausted her and she suddenly felt lightheaded, even with the wolf staring at her, urging her to continue to follow. But she knew her limits, and the sudden halting of her journey allowed her to finally take note that her right arm was bleeding from an unpleasant looking scratch that she must have gotten when running too close to an overgrown thorn bush.

Raynora retrieved a small handkerchief tucked behind the leather waist cincher she wore over her plain and faded lilac peasant blouse. Her lightheadedness seemed to grow worse as she struggled to tend to her wound, dipping the handkerchief into what remained of the small puddle of water before dabbing it gently against the surprisingly deep scratch. She watched in a strange kind of fascination as the blood soaked into the material, fiber by woven fiber. The dizziness soon overcame her and in an effort to relieve herself, she laid back on the warm rock, holding the now stained cloth to her arm as the sun soaked into her skin and the breeze gently lulled her to sleep.

She never did wake when the wolf approached, taking the blood-soaked handkerchief into its mouth before disappearing on the winding trail, leaving Raynora to sleep in the sun.

Raynora awoke with a start when the sound of thunder rumbled in the sky. The glorious summer afternoon had been replaced with thick, ominous clouds that were rapidly moving in from the east where a storm had already broken out over the taller mountains. Daylight was retreating much more rapidly than was custom during the summer months and there was a sudden unnatural chill in the air. A flash of light from deep in the heart of the mountain where the storm appeared most fierce caught her attention, as the blackest of clouds seemed to settle over that area and she lifted herself to her feet so she could observe it better, unaware that the heavens above her were becoming more and more clouded.

She could smell the rain in the distance, the violence of the storm in that region increasing as the sky grew ever darker, thunder bursting with a terrific crash, echoing through what she recognized to be Borgo pass several miles off and to the left. Vivid flashes of lightning dazzled her eyes, illuminating a lake nestled below a steep cliff-face, making it appear like a vast sheet of fire as the sunset behind her made what was left of the un-darkened heavens appear a fiery orange. But in an instant, the lightning faded and everything before her beneath those tumultuous storm clouds was pitchy blackness.

Raynora watched the tempest, so beautiful yet simultaneously horrific, with impenetrable attention, drinking in every detail. There was something beautiful about the dangerous storm looming before her – the rich sound of thunder and the deafening streaks of lightning beckoning her. She briefly wondered what it would be like to fly in the middle of such a storm, to be unaffected by the pelting rain or the searing heat of the lightning, to feel at one with such glorious chaos. Her heart ached for such freedom, but reason insisted she make her way back home before getting caught in the storm, so she began to descend while the last rays of sunlight lingered in the sky.

It wasn't long until her beacon of light faded and she soon found herself lost in the woods, wandering aimlessly through the trees, uncertain of which path was the right one, for everything looked familiar and yet, it didn't. The storm she had expected to be upon her head at this point could still be heard off in the distance behind her, but it seemed to settle upon those mountains, never moving. Though such a phenomena was strange, she was grateful not be drenched, for the evening's breeze was significantly cooler than it had been these past weeks and she shivered, rubbing her arms vigorously as she continued to jog through the woods in search of anything that was familiar, whether it be rock or tree.

She wandered like this for what felt like hours and her feet soon ceased their trudge as she lightly kicked the side of a tree in frustration with her boot-clad foot.

She swore under her breath and ran her fingers agitatedly through her dark hair, tugging at the roots in an effort to release some of the tension in her body.

"I am never going to hear the end of this," she said to the seemingly empty forest, as she continued to move forward. She could already hear her aunt's nagging voice in her head, telling her that she shouldn't have wandered off in the woods to chase after a wolf of all things. Even with Dracula long dead and gone, the woods were still unsafe – though Raynora hardly cared. She had been wandering the woods of these mountains since she was a little girl – she had never found anything particularly dreadful in them before.

She smirked slightly as she allowed her mind to wander, fantasizing as to what it would be like to meet the infamous Count Dracula. She had heard the tales, though she had never had the chance to see the vampire himself. And though he had been the means of her father's death, she didn't care about that either. In fact, if he had still been alive, she would have shaken the vampire's hand and thanked him – for it had been her father, Boris Valerious, who had gotten her mother pregnant out of wedlock, only to abandon her, dooming her to a life of disgrace. And it was that disgrace that had reduced them to the current state of poverty she found herself in now and she resented Boris for that, even if her mother had wept at the news of his death.

"Are you lost?" she heard a voice inquire from the darkness, the sound interrupting her present thoughts. Raynora stopped midstep and turned her head in the direction of the voice, only to find that no one was there.

"Who's there?" she called out.

"Don't be frightened, my lady," the voice insisted, this time on the other side of the path and she quickly turned around to face the owner, but once again he was nowhere to be found. Raynora started to feel a bit uneasy, but she hid it well, swallowing her fear and holding her head high as her eyes continued to scan the darkness.

"I am not afraid, and I am no lady, as I'm sure you can see. Show yourself at once, sir."

"I meant no discourtesy to you, my dear," the voice assured her from behind and she turned around suddenly to find a tall, dark, and fearfully handsome man standing a good full head above her. Though the forest was dark, the glow of the moon provided enough light to allow her to see his face. His features were strong and sharp, with pronounced cheekbones and a powerful jaw that looked almost as smooth as the skin of a newborn babe. His frightfully blue eyes were framed by thick dark brows, long hair pulled up and back into a high ponytail as several defiant, shorter strands framed his face.

She could tell he was several stations above her by the ornate gold clip that kept his cloak in place over his broad shoulders. Raynora, realizing that she was staring, swallowed hard before speaking.

"May I help you, sir?" was all she could manage to get out, her gaze still held by his, though a large part of her longed to look away.

"That is yet to be seen, although I do feel I could be of some assistance to you. I've noticed you wandering about in these woods for some time." His voice was rich and dark, full of undertones she could not yet understand, but they left her strangely soothed and relaxed, leaving a delightful warmth in her womb.

"I'm afraid I'm lost," she confessed, against her better judgment.

"Then allow me to accompany you home," he said while offering her his arm. "The woods are not safe at night."

"My aunt says the same thing, though I've heard the others say that the woods haven't been safer since the hunter from Rome defeated Count Dracula."

Had Raynora been paying attention to his expression and not his offered arm, she would have noticed the twinge of fury in his eyes at the mention of the hunter, but she was oblivious to it as she took his arm and fell into step beside him. The material of his black coat was soft and inviting to the touch, and his arm felt strong beside hers.

"You mentioned your aunt. Does she live with you and your parents?"

"My parents are dead. My mother died when my twin sister and I were barely three years old, and my father, though he was never part of our lives, was killed by Count Dracula almost a year ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be," she replied with a sense of flippancy that was surprising to him. "Boris Valerious seduced my mother and then left her for the wolves. He never cared three straws for me or my sister, and sadly, from what I've heard, we aren't the first.

"Forgive me… Boris Valerious was your father?" the dark stranger clarified.

"If by father you mean in blood only, then yes. He was never really a father to us. I never even met the man, though I had seen him from a distance when I was a girl when we passed through Visceria once."

"I was acquainted with Valerious family, actually," the stranger said. "He never mentioned any other children other than Prince Velkan and Princess Anna."

"It's because he's ashamed of us – his bastard children. I don't see why it makes any difference – we were still his children, whether he liked it or not. He could have at least treated us like we existed."

"Why not go to Princess Anna, explain your situation? I'm certain that she'd take you and your sister in – especially now that her entire family is dead," and he said this with the slightest hint of amusement.

"The princess has been dead for over a year now," Raynora explained, noting the surprise on the stranger's face.

"Really? When did this happen?"

"Supposedly the night that Dracula was killed. Rumor has it that the hunter killed her on accident, though some believe he did it out of jealousy, convinced that the Count had defiled her."

The stranger laughed in a most irreverent manner, deeply amused by this news.

"Oh, that is priceless," he sighed with a smile. "So the last Valerious isn't the last one after all, it would appear?"

"Basically," she replied, noting the lights of her company's camp in the distance and she slowed to a halt, not quite ready to return to her overbearing aunt just yet.

"A word of caution, my dear – I'd be careful who you go giving that information to," the stranger warned gently. "Count Dracula, as you say, may be dead, but his followers are everywhere."

"I don't care," she answered defiantly, removing her arm from his as to put some space between them. "Besides, I know these people," and she motioned to the camp lights. "They aren't followers of the Count, and even if they were, I wouldn't care what they thought anyway. I'm just a woman. I have no claim to the gypsy throne, not that I'd want it anyway."

"What do you want, my dear?" he asked, his voice a bit lower than before.

"I want to live," she replied passionately. "I want adventure, I want excitement, I don't want to settle – I want to fly. I want to see the city, sleep in a lavish bedroom, drink expensive wine, and have a dozen lovers at once!"

The dark stranger chuckled low in amusement at her proclamation, but remained silent, allowing her to continue.

"I want to escape my insipid aunt. A small part of me wants to be a warrior, like my half-siblings were, but I've also known my fair share of warriors. Their lives, though full of adventure and romance and violence and excitement… their lives always end much sooner than they should. No… what I really want is to travel the world, to fall madly in love with some foreign noble, and to spend my days experiencing everything this world has to offer, and to spend my nights on feather cushions and silks being worshipped and adored. I want it all."

"That is quite the steep order," he mused.

"I'm a firm believer that one should dream big or not at all."

"An excellent philosophy."

"You know, I just realized I never gave you my name. I'm Raynora," and she curtsied slightly. "And thank you for accompanying me home. I'd probably still be lost in the woods or worse, in the middle of being ravaged by some wild beast if it wasn't for you coming to my rescue."

He took her hand in his gloved hand and bent down to kiss her knuckles, holding her gaze with his eyes.

"It was my pleasure, my dear."

There it was again – that delightful warmth in her belly when his lips brushed against her skin and she felt herself being drawn deeper into his eyes.

"I swear…" she breathed thoughtfully.

"What is it?"

"Have we met before? I feel like I know you somehow."

"Oh, I would have remembered you, my dear," he purred, still holding her hand.

"Who are you?" she finally asked, still looking into his eyes.

"I was a prince, once, until I lost my throne, family, legacy, and several life-times of work – all stripped from me in a single evening."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," she answered softly, noting the faraway sadness in his hypnotically blue eyes. He smiled gently and held her hand with both of his now, the soft leather that covered his thumb caressing the back of her hand almost thoughtfully.

"I thank you for your sympathies. But I tell you this, not for your pity, but because I am in search of a companion, someone to accompany me as I seek revenge on those who have destroyed all that I hold dear."

"A companion?" she clarified, her voice no more than a breathless hitch.

"More like a queen – someone who can rule at my side when I conquer this wretched earth."

That proposition took Raynora a bit by surprise and seemed to snap her out of the mindless stupor she had been in while looking into his eyes. Certain he was teasing her, she pulled her hand out of his hold and managed a laugh.

"You know, it's not very nice to tease a complete stranger," she replied lightly.

"I wasn't teasing."

Unconvinced, she bowed dramatically to him, doing her best impression of a stuffy noble.

"Then your majesty, I would be honored to accompany your grace on your quest for world domination and it would be my pleasure to serve you in any way that you may require," she replied with a great amount of flirtatious teasing. She half expected him to laugh at her little joke, but he didn't. If anything, his silence only made her all the more uneasy, and she chuckled nervously. "But in all seriousness, good sir, it is very late. Thank you again for showing me the way, but my aunt is probably beside herself. I'll just walk the rest of the way on my own." She nodded her head toward him in acknowledgment and offered a charming smile before turning to walk away.

Raynora couldn't shake the feeling of uneasiness that had rather suddenly settled in her stomach and was rapidly spreading to her chest with every step she took toward the camp. She looked back to make sure the stranger wasn't following her and she was momentarily relieved to find that he was gone – until she turned to look ahead once more, managing to stop just in time before she could run directly into him, as he was now standing in front of her.

Raynora opened her mouth to unleash a pointed remark, but no word ever moved past her lips. The stranger's eyes appeared to be glowing in their sockets, an unearthly, electrified blue that sent a shiver through her entire being and seemed to snatch away any will she had possessed. She was just frozen in place, staring into his eyes, unable to look away.

Who was this man, she thought to herself, straining to move when he lifted his gloved hand and gently caressed the side of her face in a slow and thoughtful manner.

"You truly are a Valerious after all – the same willful spirit, the same dark hair… the brown eyes." His hand now cupped the side of her face as his leather-clad thumb gently stroked her bottom lip, his gaze drawing her in deeper and deeper into his control.

"Who are you?" she whispered. "You can't be…"

He followed her train of thought and felt a wicked smirk tug the corners of his lips.

"And just as slow as a Valerious, as well. That, I must confess, is a bit of a disappointment, though not wholly unexpected. You see, your ancestors possessed a rare talent for never seeing what was in front of them until it was too late. A pity, really – you showed so much promise. And it would have been quite poetic, too, having a bride whose blood is not only the blood of my enemy, but the same blood that brought me back to life."

He could tell by the confusion in her mind that she didn't understand, so he let her mull it over in silence for a moment or two, watching as the recognition soon appeared in her eyes. The wolf – it had taken her handkerchief – the one with her blood. The beast must have meant to lead her to the castle, but she had stopped, so it took what it needed from her instead.

"But how is it possible?" she managed to ask, though still unable to move her body. No matter what command her brain sent to her limbs, she couldn't move. Even her eyes were unable to look away from his face. He made a movement with his fingers, as if he were pushing something back and she felt her feet begin to move, her legs – by a force unknown – taking her several steps back until her backside hit the trunk of a large tree. He stalked toward her slowly with in three agonizing steps.

"Your blood was my savior – my resurrection. It wasn't nearly enough to fully sustain me, but it was enough to bring me back. I suppose I should thank you for that."

She wanted to protest, to convince him that she hadn't willingly done it, but she found she could not. The words would not come. She had opened her mouth to utter something – anything, but he hushed her with a single finger over her parted lips, the low "shh" gently fanning her face.

"Don't worry, my pet – I won't do anything to you that you don't already want."

The promise sent another shiver through her body that was both pleasant and unnerving. The way he looked at her sent a violent blush to her cheeks and her heart started to race in her chest like a tribal drum as he grabbed the ends of his gloves with his teeth and pulled them off slowly. The contrast of his cold skin on her hot face sent her reeling and when he bent down and pressed his lips against hers, it was as though she had been caught up in a horrible undertow that pulled her under.

She should have fought it. Her gut told her it was the right thing to do. But before she knew it had even started, she was suddenly drowning in him. His hands held her face as his lips masterfully pressed and suckled against her mouth in such a way that felt as though he were drawing her in slowly, methodically.

Raynora had been kissed before, but it was usually by drunk men with itchy whiskers, foul breath, and eager hands. The way he kissed her was something else entirely. There was a finesse, a kind of art to it – as if each movement and suckle and caress was specifically calculated to make her insides turn to liquid. She parted her lips in an effort to catch her breath and his tongue found its way into her mouth, reducing Raynora to a state of feeling almost liquid. She had to wrap her arms around his neck to stay upright, and he pressed his firm body against the contrasting softness of her own, squeezing a sigh from her lips.

All thought turned into a delirious hum as his expert lips and deft fingers explored her, slipping underneath the shoulder of her blouse, which he gently moved to one side before placing delicious bites up and down her shoulder.

Everything about him was simultaneously dangerous and deeply sensual, and it didn't take long for Raynora's better judgment to abandon any thoughts of resisting him. If anything, her own displays of need and desire encouraged him and as he nuzzled his face into her neck, she could feel his hands hiking up her skirt, the cool skin of his palms smoothing up her thighs as his lower body gyrated against her own in a primitive, yet teasing dance.

Before Raynora could release the moan building in her throat, she felt him bite harder than before into her neck as his sharp fangs broke through the skin.

The spell broke like the shattering of a glass after being hit by a blunt instrument, but try as she might, Raynora was pinned in place by his larger body and stronger hands that held her where she was. The sound of his slurping was louder than she had anticipated and it sent a violent chill of fear through her – fear and the remaining hints of arousal.

The more he fed from her, the stronger her resolve to escape his hold became and with futile effort, she pushed her hands against his chest, trying to separate his mouth from her bleeding neck.

"No," she protested. "Stop… I don't want this. I don't want…"

But he persisted, his grip on her arms tight enough to bruise and she whimpered in response.

"I will take… what is mine," he said between gulps. "No blood will sate me but yours, Valerious…"

"I said NO!" she suddenly shouted, using his surprise at her outburst to shove him away and kick him in the groin before running for the lights of the nearby camp.

The young woman began to shout for help, calling desperately for her aunt. What she found when she entered the clearing instantly made her ill as the overwhelming stench of death overpowered her. The small company she and her aunt traveled with consisted of seventeen men, women, and children – all of which were now dead on the ground, covered in their own blood, their throats torn out.

The vampire must have stopped by here first before he went to go find her in the woods and the thought made her ill. Panic suddenly filled her breast as she ran through the camp, tearing open the doors of every tent in search of her aunt, whom she eventually found being picked at by ravenous wolves – among them being the familiar black wolf that had led her into the mountains. She screamed at the beasts, begging them to stop, but they snarled viciously at her, snapping their bloodstained teeth in her direction, protecting their meal.

"This is my fault… this is all my fault," she wept, choking back a sob as she covered her mouth in horror, shaking her head in disbelief as the tears burned in her eyes. She watched the wolves tear the flesh from her aunt's bones with ease, the carnage so gruesome it made her sick and she turned away from the scene.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are, Valerious bitch!" she could hear Dracula call out on the other side of the camp. "I wanted to spare you, pet, but I need your blood – without it, my resurrection will be incomplete. That is the way it must be."

Realizing she had a moment to escape, Raynora noticed one of the horses still tied up to a tree near the main road and she released it from its confines, mounting it's back and taking off into the night towards the nearest village. The cry of the horse as one of the wolves chased after them caught the vampire's attention and with a roar, his features changed as demonic-looking wings broke through the flesh of his back and extended for what felt like the first time in an age.

Raynora rode the stallion hard, the black wolf behind her nipping at the animal's heels as the sound of Dracula's unearthly cry told her that the vampire was soon to be on her tail as well. The night air seemed to grow colder and colder as she rode for the nearest village, which was unfortunately abandoned due to a violent epidemic that had ravaged the town just last winter, but the church was still standing and the bastard Valerious rode straight for its steps, leaping from the horse's back just as the wolf caught onto its hind leg, giving her the perfect chance to make it inside and slam the door behind her before the vampire could swoop in and snatch her.

The church was old – constructed primarily of wood and some minor stone-work. The statues of the angels and the saints had fallen into disrepair, some of them had had their eyes scratched out, and much of the artwork had been defaced as many of the previous villagers had blamed God for their woes, taking out their anger on the once holy structure. Raynora ran the short distance down the isle of the church, past the dusty pews to the front of the room, her back to the altar as she watched the shadows shuffle beneath the cracks of the main doors.

The sound of the horse screaming in horrified pain as the wolf and it's pack attached the poor beast would undoubtedly haunt Raynora for the rest of her life. But when the horse's shrieking ended, everything fell into an unnerving silence as the wolves snarled and howled whilst feasting the defeated animal.

The light of the moon was bright that evening and its streams bled through the cracks in the door. It was when that light disappeared and the sounds of the wolves outside vanished completely that Raynora could feel her heart pounding in her throat. Her hands gripped the altar behind her as she prayed for the first time in years to a God she had only half believed in, swearing that she would follow her twin sister's example and live a life of solitude and celibacy as a nun if only He would spare her from the demon outside those church doors.

But if a higher power had heard her silent prayer, her pleas for mercy went ignored, for the doors to the church suddenly flew off their hinges in a loud crash, the moonlight illuminating the dark, foreboding figure of Count Dracula. Raynora held her breath for a single instant, silently hoping that the holy ground would keep the vampire out, but once more, her hopes were in vain as she watched in terrified surprise as the infamous Count crossed the threshold, the sound of his hessian boots walking across the creaky wood floor in her direction, sending a chill down her spine.

The young woman watched in rapt horror as the crucifixes in the small chapel abruptly burst into flames at his entry, the scratched-out eyes of the statues of saints and angels weeping blood, and the sound of the wolves outside howling a most unsettling chorus, welcoming the return of their master, the Prince of Darkness.

It was a grand entrance indeed, and for the first time in her entire life, Raynora became very much aware of just how mortal she was, how precarious human life can be, and how easily it can be taken away.

Soon, the Count was standing just a foot or two away from her, looking deep into her eyes once again. She could feel her will slipping and when she did manage to break away from his gaze, he reached forward with one hand and grabbed her face, turning it back so she was forced to face him. She quickly clenched her eyes shut in defiance, desperately trying to keep him out of her head, but when he ordered her to look at him, she could not resist.

She opened her eyes and was met by his hypnotic gaze and she felt all horror slip out of her, feeling only what he wanted her to feel – the desire to please him. He held her gaze for some time, slowly releasing her face as he exercised his hold over her.

"Are you afraid, child?" he asked her in even tones.

"Yes, master," she answered, not entirely certain why she called him that, but she did and for some peculiar reason, it felt pleasant on her lips.

"Don't be," the Count assured her. "I promise your death will be painless and not in vain. I will always be grateful for your sacrifice."

"Yes, master."

"Where is your sister, Raynora? Your twin? Where can I find her?"

He felt her resist as her mind desperately struggled to revolt in an effort to protect her sister from the fate she now faced, but he squashed the rebellion before it could ever really take root in her.

"She's a nun – a bride of Christ. She took up the veil almost seven years ago."

"Where can I find her, pet?"

"A convent – the Agapia din Deal, about a mile from the Topolniţa stream."

"Her name?"

"She took on the name Oana when she joined the sisterhood."

"What is her real name, child?"

Raynora hesitated, struggling desperately to regain control over her mind and body, but it was no use. He was in her head, playing her like a marionette doll on a set of strings. Her will was his will.

"Verena. Her name is Verena."

"Thank you, my dear," the Count purred, a pleased smile softening his otherwise darkened features and he took a final step toward her, closing in on the distance between the two of them. He caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers. "You've been most helpful."

"Please… don't hurt my sister," Raynora pleaded pitifully as his fingers delicately traced the one of the leather straps over her shoulder that held her bodice in place. He freed the strap from its buckle with ease.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head about your sister," he assured her gently, undoing the other buckle before his skillful fingers went to work on the laces until she was freed from the corset. "I have some wonderful plans for her – just as I have plans for you, my sweet," and he pulled the edge of her blouse down her arm, exposing more of her soft flesh to his greedy eyes. "A pity I could not have you both, but sacrifices must be made," and he took a single finger and ran it along one of the thicker streams of blood that had been trailing over her collarbone back up to the still open wound before licking that finger clean, only to run it over her mouth in a teasing manner.

"You would have made an excellent vampire, my dear – I can see it in your eyes, the potential for greatness. I could have molded you, could have given you everything you ever wanted – but it was not to be. Do you know why, pet?"

Raynora shook her head no, unable to pry her gaze from his face as his palm smoothed over her collar to rest between her breasts, the long, slow caress sending a terrifying wave of delightful shivers through her body as his will pushed her sense of reason to the back of her mind, bringing her lust to the foreground.

"It was your blood that brought me back, and it is your blood that will make my resurrection complete. There is magic in the Valerious bloodline – and it will make me invincible."

He removed his hand from her chest and pointed at her with two fingers, as if ordering her to lean back on the altar. Unable to defy him, she obeyed, torn between sexual anticipation and dread as his knee pushed her legs apart and his hands began to hike up her skirt.

"But before I take what is mine…" he continued, his right hand slipping beneath her skirts before pressing his palm between her thighs, "…I must confess, the taste of fear in a woman's blood was never a dish I particularly cared for. Fear is bitter, unpleasant. But pleasure…" and he pressed his palm against the apex between her legs, a wicked grin tugging at the corners of his mouth when she moaned nice and slow, "… pleasure is delightfully sweet."

Raynora's sense of modesty quickly turned into an afterthought as he pleasured her in ways she had never dreamed possible. Subconsciously, his actions left her horribly violated, something that not even her lust could reason away. What he was doing to her was wrong – and in a church, no less. But Raynora had lost all sense of reason. All she could feel was what this tall, dark, and frightfully handsome man was doing to her, all she knew was him in her head. The pleasure he gave her was immense and it clouded what was left of her judgment. She welcomed his licentious ministrations with wordless pleas for more as her back arched and her hips gyrated against his skillful hand and deft fingers.

She felt humiliated, filthy, and disgraced – and still she encouraged him, her comparably smaller hands clinging to the edge of the altar as she felt the tension continue to build inside of her. When the dam finally broke and the pleasure washed over her in one delirious wave of ecstasy, he was on top of her, his mouth latched onto his bite from before and he was devouring mouthfuls of her precious lifeblood as she rode the waves he created until her head grew light and her vision blurred.

As the pleasure dissipated, her heart slowed at an alarming rate. Her entire body had gone numb and cold as she struggled to get some air, but no matter how hard she tried, the breath would not come. Her head buzzed with a blackness she could not shake and as he drained her of her last drop, Raynora slipped into unconsciousness and her heart finally gave out.

When the vampire had drunk his fill, he rose to look down on the young woman who had just brought him back to life. A small part of him regretted taking her as he had, for violating her – but the wanton gratification in her blood had been delicious and exactly what he needed. For the first time in what felt like ages, he felt whole again – at least physically speaking, her blood leaving a delightful warmth in his belly. Wiping the blood from around his mouth with the back of his hand, he turned to see the pack of wolves standing in the doorway, watching him closely, the large black one with blue eyes particularly attentive.

He took one last look at the deceased Raynora – with her lovely face and the voluptuous figure he would have loved to explore more thoroughly – before returning his attention to the wolves. With a swish of his cloak, he began to move down the isle of the church before walking past the pack of dogs.

"She's all yours, boys."

The wolves raced into the church for Raynora's body and they feasted on her as the Count walked out into the night, looking up at the full moon above him.

"I hope you're enjoying your time in heaven, Boris," he said to the sky, "because I'm about to raise hell, and when I do, I want you to watch as I defile what is left of your family's legacy. Your little bastard slut was just the beginning. I'm going to break her sister, and you, my old friend, are going to watch. You and all the angels in heaven will be powerless to stop me. I will have what is mine, Valerious. I swear it."