Chapter 22

Dracula withdrew from his deep trance.

He always felt a little disoriented at first as his ears opened to hear, his nose opened to breathe, and his eyes opened to see. Red nettle greeted him as his eyes focused, their velvety petals creating a deep, hollow ache inside of him as he remembered what he had lost.

His dear Elisabeta. Her beautiful red hair. Her gorgeous green eyes. Her soft, tender heart. It had been exactly two hundred years since she was murdered, and every moment since had been filled with sorrow.

Despite what some people said, the pain never softened. It dulled now and again, but during his mourning, it burst into flames like a wildfire consuming an entire kingdom, rampaging through anything that would burn.

A high-pitched vampire screech startled him from his mournful thoughts, and he bolted to his feet, searching for the source of the cry. Only, the cry was old. Two weeks old, to be precise. His Willow…

With a single hand, he fluttered his black cape aside and marched up the steps to the castle. Vampires bowed low and moved out of his way. There were a lot of them. A lot more than usual in Ichor Knell. Why? And where was his Willow?

The vampire he wanted to see was exactly where he knew he’d find him in the council room, surrounded by pivotal members of the council. Everyone looked up as he entered and bowed low, even Nicolae Covaci, his dearest friend.

Nicolae spoke first. “We would have summoned you but—”

“What’s happening?” he interrupted, his voice alone commanding the room. “Where is my daughter?”

The council members glanced at each other, and again, Nicolae took the lead. “There has been a…disturbance on the outside. It’s what they call the Dunmere Crusade. Humans formed an assembly to kill witches, werewolves…vampires. And they have been more successful than we would have hoped. My own granddaughter was nearly burned at the stake.”

He took several deep breaths to calm himself. He did not allow himself the luxury to show his fear in front of others. If something happened to his Willow, he would rain vengeance on mankind like they had never seen before.

“Willow?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Nicolae answered, regret in his tone. “We have received refugees of all races from all over the kingdom. She hasn’t been among them.”

It was as he feared. The cry for help, about two weeks old. She had been in trouble, and he had been too busy mourning the death of his Elisabeta to hear it. She could be dead, and he should have been there to help.

“I’ll find her,” he said. “Nicolae, take charge in my absence. I won’t be gone long.”

The vampires bowed again as he left the room and stepped outside. Dark clouds swirled overhead as they always did to block the sunlight, making Ichor Knell a safe place for vampires no matter the time of day. Behind him, the black castle loomed, the dark spires sprouting upward toward the sky.

The castle was large and could fit many refugees. Those they couldn’t fit would be able to take refuge in the buildings and homes surrounding Ichor Knell. Feeding all of them would be no problem, especially with the anger bursting to flames in his heart. The humans would pay for this. They had no idea they unleashed Death from his prison. He was coming for them. And they wouldn’t be ready.