Chapter Text
Something supernatural flies over the quiet village of Vaseria.
It is far too large to belong to the natural world. Based solely on its physical features, this pale being is feminine in nature with a bat-like wingspan. The demonic creature lands gracefully onto a random chimney thanks to the sharp talons on her feet. Her wings dissolve into folds of pristine white fabric. There’s a subtle hint of decay as she transforms, hinting at her true nature. In the breadth of a second, the demoness has transformed into a beautiful human woman with long, wavy red hair. Aleera looks down at the village square with a sadistic glee in her eyes.
“I am very, very excited about this.”
Another demoness-turned-woman, one with shoulder-length, curly blonde hair, lands next to her.
“Why can't we just let the werewolf kill her?,” she asks with a pout.
Verona scoffs at this. She gives Marishka a condescending look before transforming into a woman with straightened long, black hair. She answers her fellow bride with conceit planted in her words.
“Never trust a man to do a woman's job.”
Aleera cackles like a creature sprung from the pits of hell.
From the shadows of the forest, a hooded man approaches Vaseria on foot. He’s donned himself in a winter robe that has seen better days. A hood covers the majority of this stranger’s face, but no one in town questions this. Most have seen this mysterious being and they tend to mistake him for a gypsy disbanded from his troupe, taken to begging or scrounging for scraps. It is quite amazing -on the verge of unbelievable- how efficient his disguise is. All he had to do was alter his accent and wear a single layer of concealing fabric, and the infamous Victor Frankenstein, the robber of graves, could easily be mistaken for a homeless person, invisible to the public.
The good doctor keeps his hood over his eyes and sticks to the shadows as he enters the village to search for nourishment. He takes a moment to admire the scenery. Vaseria was a tiny town populated with wooden buildings one or two stories high. There’s an aged look to them, standing strong and unchanged for decades if not centuries. And strung above each and every doorway is a ring of garlic. Visitors, the few and rare who dare venture this far, would complain of the sharp, pungent odor, but the locals would insist the garlic is for protection against evil.
Victor senses a strange and nearly tangible tension in the air, akin to an incoming thunderstorm. Frankenstein keeps his head down as he eavesdrops on the whispered gossip that is the talk of the town: strangers have arrived. This perks Victor’s interest.
News certainly travels fast in these parts because in less than a minute since his arrival, those “strangers” show up on horseback. Victor squints his eyes with suspicion, not unlike the locals. There are two of these men, both keep their faces covered as they dismount from their steeds. The one wearing a woolen robe looks harmless with the way he is hunched over, surveying the crowd with growing concern. It is the other who looks like trouble. That one stands with his back perfectly straight with an assured confidence. He purposely keeps his face covered under the shadow of his wide-brim hat.
Victor deems the taller man the leader of the two.
Through the corner of his eyes, Frankenstein observes the villagers move as if sharing one mind, crowding around these two strangers, blocking off any chances of an escape. Most of them carry weapons ranging from pitchforks, daggers, machetes, and even a couple of table knives. Following the locals’ actions, Victor reaches for his family’s saber. It waits, attached to a hand-made rope hilt that digs at his side. The weight of his weapon, carrying the remnants of his family’s honor, grounds Victor during the villager’s hostile moments. The supposed stranger in charge apparently notices the crowd’s collective reaction as he lowers his hat further over his face.
“Welcome to Transylvania,” greets a man with a top hat, halting the strangers with his words.
Victor recognizes him as the village’s Gravedigger. Long, oily bleach-blond hair curtain a skeletal face with exaggerated cheekbones. There’s also the sunken, beady eyes with that maniac glint to suggest something is not all right in the man’s head. A loud sigh exhales from the taller stranger before he drops his weapons with a loud thud. The leader turns around to face the man in the top hat.
There’s a long beat of silence. Victor hears the short stranger whisper a question to his companion to which he affirms. The man in charge scans the crowd for something… or rather someone. Frankenstein realizes the stranger hasn’t reached for a weapon of his own in spite of the apparent threat, which could mean, if he correctly recalls what he’s learnt during his studies with psychologists, the stranger probably doesn’t believe the Gravedigger to be in charge of this town.
As if on cue, the true leader shows up: a young woman. She steps atop the stone wall around the village well in the center of town. Her black outfit is perfectly tailored to her body, clearly meant for easy traveling and suggestive of wealth. From his vantage point, Victor recognizes princess Anna.
“You! Turn around,” the princess orders in English with a thick, Romanian accent. “Let me see your faces.”
They turn around, but do not expose their faces.
“Why?," the leader asks.
“Because we don't trust strangers.”
The Gravedigger pulls out a measuring tape and starts measuring the smaller of the two. “Strangers don’t last long here. Hmm, 5 foot 7…”
“Gentlemen, you will now be disarmed,” says Anna.
Several villagers move forward. The leader glares at them and warns them in perfect Romanian.
“You can try.”
The crowd stops in their tracks, their resolve wavering in his icy glare. The Gravedigger continues to measure until the stranger in charge shoves him aside.
Anna asks with a hint of disbelief in her tone, “You refuse to obey our laws?”
Returning to English, the stranger responds, “The laws of men mean little to me.”
“Fine.” She looks out at the crowd. “Kill them.”
The man in the top hat steps back with a gleeful expression, eager for a good show. All the villagers raise their weapons and start to close in. Victor reluctantly raises his saber as well.
“I'm here to help you.”
Anna scoffs at these words from newcomers who think they know better.
“I don't need any help.”
“Oh really?”
Frankenstein wasn’t prepared for what happens next: the stranger whips out his crossbow and fires at the princess! As Anna ducked, she reveals the three vampires flying straight at her! The air echoes with their demonic screeches the moment they realized their sneak attack failed.
All of the villagers start to panic. Avoiding the stranger’s flying arrows, the brides fly all around the square as they toss aside the frightened locals like weak little kittens. To further instill fear into the villagers, the brides shove people off balance and tear through the so-called “protective” garlic rings like they were wreaths made of fragile flower petals.
Anna yells out, “Everybody inside!”
The stranger, clearly a hunter, fires multiple shots at the brides, but misses every time. His companion makes himself small as he takes cover against the stone well. Victor does as well, but for a different reason. The doctor recognizes those three angelic faces behind the demonic façades. Surely, they would recognize him too.
Aleera swoops down and knocks Anna off balance. The princess falls onto the hunter before they both crash to the ground. He looks at Anna sprawled across him; she stares back. Before either of them could make a retort, the princess is suddenly captured by Marishka’s talons. The man bounds up onto the well, leaps up, and grabs Anna by her foot. He was not prepared for the wind created by the demon’s wings.
Marishka decides to drop her prey at a height of 12 feet above the ground. The two humans descend rapidly and hit the ground. Anna once again lands on the other, her warm thighs straddling his face. There was a single beat of awkwardness as they realize the position they were in. The stranger grabs her waist and rolls her to the ground.
“Stay here!”
The princess effortlessly mimics his maneuver and rolls him to the ground.
“You stay here. They're trying to kill me.”
Anna instantly leaps up and runs. The hunter gets up to go after her, but then he spots his crossbow through the trampling crowd. He changes his mind and makes a run for his weapon instead. Two of the brides could be seen flying above the rooftops.
Verona and Marishka gaze down at the center of town.
“Marishka, kill the stranger.”
The blonde bride exposes her fangs with a wide grin. “Love to!”
The stranger doesn’t waste any time as he grabs his crossbow and spins around to see Aleera flying through the chaos, tossing peasants out of her way. He dashes across the square. He fires his weapon at the bride, sending Aleera scattering. The weapon stops shooting its ammo.
“Carl! Carl, it’s not working.”
The religious stranger -Carl- reaches into his sack and pulls out a cartridge of arrows. He throws it towards his comrade.
“Try aiming at their hearts.”
The yet-to-be-named hunter catches it just as Marishka swoops in. He dives to the snow-covered ground just in time to feel a rush of air sweep past the back of his neck. Marishka’s clawed feet end up grabbing an unlucky, unsuspecting cow. She lifts it into the air and angrily pitches it through a second-story balcony; the poor creature moos as it crashes into the building. The stranger leaps up, slams the clip into his crossbow and spins around in time to see Anna racing across the far side of the square, Verona still on her tail. He shoulders his weapon and fires multiple bolts at tremendous velocity.
Thwack! Victor stares wide-eyed at the arrow lodged in the wall mere inches from his face. Taking a careful step away, he gives the strangers an incredulous look. Surely these men know better than to aim at potential innocents?! As if answering his unspoken question, the hunter fires another round of arrows at the fleeing brides, showing no concern for those within the vicinity of his aim.
From a close distance, Victor hears the princess cry out, “Who are you trying to kill?!”
Shaking his head at the lack of remorse, Frankenstein forces his body to be as small as possible to avoid any more close calls. As he watches the hunter battle with the vampires, Victor hears a cry for help. It was a child. His instincts kick into overdrive as he forfeits the safety of the shadows.
Following the direction of the noise, the doctor spots a 4-year-old boy. He swivels his little head around looking for someone. Checking the sky once more, Victor makes a mad dash for the scared child. He grabs the boy from off the ground and sprints straight into the nearest alleyway. Certain they were both safe, the good doctor then tries to open a side door, but it was locked. He tries another door. It was also locked. Frankenstein is now facing a dilemma as he cradles a vulnerable child.
There’s a scream of pain from a close distance. Unable to resist his instincts, Victor peeks his head around the corner to see an elderly woman grasping her leg. A bride flies directly overhead and luckily has not yet noticed her. As much as he values his own life, Victor cannot stand there. He has to help. Victor looks back into the alley until he notices a discarded blanket. He locks eyes with the scared child.
In a whisper, Frankenstein tells the boy to keep quiet and hide under the blanket.
The child whimpers as he covers himself.
Assured the child is well-hidden, Victor goes to help the citizens in urgent need of medical attention.
Soon after, there’s an ensemble of unnatural shrieks and whooshes in the air before the entire village square goes silent. Rays of sunlight decide to poke through the clouds onto the village. The brides are nowhere in sight. Ever so slowly, the villagers peek out from their hiding places.
Sensing the change in the air, Victor pauses to acknowledge the silence before he proceeds to bite off the edge of the bandage he applied to a wounded villager. Then he looks up in confusion, silently questioning why the demons stopped attacking. The young boy he helped earlier had crept from his hiding spot and grabs a tight hold on his pant leg. Dr. Frankenstein wraps an arm around the scared child as he dares to walk out into the open. Like the locals, he wonders where the demons went.
The hunter gives the princess a look to convey his unspoken question. She nods upwards.
“The sun.”
We hear a loud splash. The stranger and Anna whip around to the noise. It came from the well. The two of them slowly stalk towards it. Anna bends down to pick up a discarded scythe. Nodding at one another, thinking the same thought, they simultaneously aim their weapons into the well.
The only thing they see is darkness. Above them, the clouds gradually cover the sun once more. Victor notices this. He knows what’s to happen and quietly beckons the villagers to return to their houses. He hands over the boy to an elderly couple the moment the child reached out to them. Carl also notes the growing overcast of clouds.
“Uh, Van Helsing?”
Too late. Aleera rockets up from out of the well. The stranger -Van Helsing- is blown back as Aleera’s talons grab Anna as she flies up into the air. Van Helsing sits up and aims, but he can't get a clear shot. The princess, not being the damsel in distress, reaches down with her free hand, withdraws a switchblade from an ankle strap, and slashes Aleera’s ankle. The vampire shrieks in pain, instinctively kicking Anna off into the air.
Verona swoops in and grabs the princess. Van Helsing tracks the huge supernatural creature with his crossbow, then fires a single shot. The lone arrow impales Verona’s foot. She cries out in pain as she releases the princess. Anna free falls onto a rooftop and tumbles down. She manages to grab a gutter 40 feet up and dangles there. With practiced ease, the princess pushes herself from the roof, flips through the air, lands upside down on the side of a tree, then lands the rest of the way to the ground on both feet before running like hell.
Having observed all of this, Van Helsing cannot stop his fascination. Anna is quickly becoming more and more interesting.
“Van Helsing! Two o’clock!”
Returning his mind back to the situation at hand, the hunter pivots in time to see Marishka flying right at him. He fires. A half dozen bolts pierce her. The demoness spirals wildly across the square and crashes straight through the roof of a building.
Needing a moment to catch her breath, Anna sprints into a house, slams the door shut, and bolts it tight. She turns only to come face to face with Aleera, dangling upside down from a ceiling beam.
“Hello Anna.”
Aleera gracefully flips off the beam and lands between the princess and the door. She changes back into her human guise.
“Nice to see you too, Aleera.”
Despite her tone of confidence, Anna is clearly afraid. Not for her life, but for failing her family. So many generations, all to end this easily? Seeing no other way out, she backs away into the living room as Aleera stalks closer and closer.
Van Helsing slowly moves towards the building, crossbow at the ready. The front door suddenly explodes. Marishka blasts out and tosses Van Helsing fifty feet through the air. His weapon lands a short distance away from where he lands. The vampire bride circles once around the square, arrows embedded in her chest and face, before she lands onto a nearby rooftop. Transforming into a beautiful young blond woman, Marishka rips the arrows out, one by one, without flinching once. Her wounds heal over within seconds. The citizens brave enough to watch all gasp in awe at her beauty.
Anna continues to ever so slowly back away from the vampire before her. Where the hell was Helsing? He came here to help, so where was he now? She bides for time.
“Did I do something to you in a past life?”
“Don't play coy with me, Princess,” Aleera’s eyes glow in warning as she taunts Anna. “I know what lurks in your lusting heart.”
“I hope you have a heart, Aleera,” Anna spat back as her knees trembled. “Because someday, I'm going to drive a stake through it.”
With barely any effort, the demoness punches Anna aside with a supernaturally induced uppercut. The princess flies backwards through a closed window out into an alleyway.
Not too far from where she landed, we see Carl furiously digging through his sack. He finds what he was looking for with a guffaw of victory.
“This should do the trick.”
Carl yells to Van Helsing. “Holy water!” He proceeds to throw a steel and glass bottle. The bottle flies through the air until Verona swoops in from nowhere and snatches it. She casually tosses it into the well and looks at her fellow bride.
“Stop your teasing, Marishka, and finish him!”
The dark-haired bride flies off. Marishka looks at Van Helsing and smiles in mockery. “Too bad. So sad.”
Victor’s thoughts race. This stranger is capable of staring down these demons with no fear in his eyes. And although he -Victor Frankenstein- hasn’t yet figured out a vampire’s weakness, he has noticed how one of those demonic creatures promptly discarded that bottle of holy water. Surely, it must mean their kind fears the liquid. So, the main question is: where would one find more holy water in this town?
Victor pivots his body in desperate search. There! He runs out into the open square of the village, completely vulnerable, and pointing wildly.
“The church!”
Van Helsing turns at the voice. He sees a villager gesturing at something. Shifting his gaze in the direction they were indicating, Helsing notices a basin below a cross. Holy water! Helsing whips around to focus on Marishka. The vampire is staring at the brave villager. For merely a moment, a flash of recognition crosses her beautiful features. Shaking her attention away from the diversion, her eyes then settle on the church. Marishka then locks eyes on Van Helsing. She smiles menacingly as her fangs descend.
Stepping backwards, Victor returns to the safety of the shadows. He’s done what he could. It’s up to the strangers now.
Anna seeks shelter into what appears to be a pub. She immediately skids to a stop upon finding Aleera is already there, casually sipping a glass of red liquid far too viscous to be wine. A man lies dead on the table before her.
“30 years old. Perfectly aged.”
Anna spins around in reflex, but a human-looking Verona appears behind her.
“Hello, Anna, my dear.”
The vampires start to move in for the kill. Anna stumbles back into a wall, cornered. She knows she is in trouble. Verona just smiles pleasantly.
“The last of the Valerious.”
Back in the village square, Van Helsing spots his crossbow, halfway between him and the enemy. Marishka squats down in wait, her arms out, ready to take flight, daring him to make the first move. She smiles in her eagerness for a challenge.
Van Helsing goes for it. Marishka takes a leap and transforms into her demonic form. The hunter dives and rolls as the vampire swoops over him. She shoves him away. He tries again, only to get tossed in another direction. Helsing can hear the bride’s cackles somewhere behind; she’s treating this like a game of cat and mouse.
Laughing in her glory, the female demon flies far up into the sky. She circles around to look down in smugness at her victim, only to finally see something she should have noticed earlier: she tossed Van Helsing within easy grasp of his crossbow. Marishka gasps before she dives in for the kill.
Cornered in the bar by two of Dracula’s brides, Anna refuses to give up. She attempts to throw a punch. Verona stops her hand like the princess were merely a kitten and, with a powerful squeeze, forces the human to her knees.
Verona exclaims, “I can feel fresh blood rushing through her veins!”
The vampire opens her mouth supernaturally wide as her canines distend into long fangs only seen in nightmares. Aleera pouts. Her voice rises in pitch when she whines about wanting first bite. Verona hisses as her response; Aleera hisses right back.
Van Helsing successfully grabs his weapon and runs like hell for the church.
“Here she comes!” Carl yells, pointing up.
Marishka is so close. Her claws and fangs extend in anticipation.
Van Helsing makes it to the basin and slams the tips of his arrows into the liquid. In slow motion, he spins and fires at the enemy now mere feet away. Bolts from the crossbow successfully hit the vampire’s one vulnerable spot: the heart. Marishka screams horribly, accompanied by the loud sound of sizzling flesh. She spirals through the air and crash lands onto the middle of the church spire.
At that same moment, Verona and Aleera both scream in utter agony. They spin like two human-sized tornadoes, their shock wave of wind accidentally blows Anna across the pub. The brides take on their bat forms.
Victor startles in his hiding spot as the brides crash through the rooftop near him, flying off as their wails echo throughout the land.
“Oh, she’s gone!”
The doctor watches them disappear into the clouds. Then he looks towards the stranger.
Van Helsing also watches the vampires flee into the distance. He swivels his gaze back to the church. Marishka is pinned to the spire like a beautiful butterfly part of a scientist’s collection. As she gasps for breath, the vampire goes through two transformations: a physical change from demon to a beautiful young woman and another that seems psychological. A sparkle returns to her eyes. She stares off into the distance and whispers her final words in relief, “Free. I’m finally free!”
With a smile of pure joy, Marishka decays into rot before the wind blows her ashes away. There is no trace left of her.
There’s a hush throughout the village.
Helsing, knowing the job is done for the moment, walks to the church’s steps and allows himself to rest. Carl lets himself relax as well. He spots his companion’s hat on the ground a few feet away and he picks it up. As the friar brushes off the dust and snow, he hears a moo from nearby. Carl turns around and sees a cow, standing on the second-floor balcony of a building. Both of them stare at the other, utterly confused.
Sensing an end to the threat, villagers crawl out from under all the wreckage, some of them start pointing accusing fingers at Van Helsing.
Careful to stay within the shadows, Victor intrudes the residence of one confirmed victim of the brides. He ignores the guilt of stealing from the dead and being the sole reason why this village continues to suffer under the threat of vampires. He chose life, for himself and his Creation. He pulls out a sack from an inner pocket of his coat and proceeds to fill it with all the food he could find. Frankenstein doesn’t wish to waste this opportunity to collect food and essentials before the strangers are inevitably scared away. Just looking through a window, he can already see a mob slowly surround the two newcomers.
“He killed a bride!”
“He killed Marishka!”
Carl is confused. “But isn't that a good thing?”
The Gravedigger steps up with an amused smile. He explains the turmoil. “Vampires only kill what they need to survive, one or two people a month. Now they will kill for revenge.”
The villagers move in, half of them shouting accusations. The rest either cry over the corpses of loved ones or frown at their homes getting destroyed. Carl takes this all in. He feels remorse in Helsing’s stead for bringing chaos when they should have prevented more chaos.
He looks to his friend.
“Are you always this popular?”
“Pretty much.”
The man in the top hat smiles politely and tips his hat at the stranger in charge.
“So what name, my good sir, do I carve on your gravestone?”
That's the moment when Anna steps into the center of the crowd.
“His name is Van Helsing.”
There is an immediate loud murmur of admiration through the crowd. Taking advantage of the situation, Victor discreetly flees for the woods. Carl sees him from afar, somehow recognizing the only villager willing to help.
Anna gives Van Helsing a nod. “Your reputation precedes you.”
He gives her a stern look in return. With a grunt from pain, Helsing stands back up.
“Next time, stay close, you're no good to me dead.”
“Well, I'll say this for you, you've got courage.” The princess addresses her subjects in a loud manner. “He's the first one to kill a vampire in over a hundred years!” She gives Helsing an appraising look. “I'd say that's earned him a drink.”
From the security of the tree line on the outskirts of Vaseria, Victor Frankenstein observes princess Anna escort the two strangers to her castle. For the first time in a year, Victor can feel a true sense of hope. He checks his sack of stolen food and essentials to make sure all is accounted for. Glancing around to make sure no one has noticed him, he escapes further into the forest.
Above the skeletal branches, the ruined windmill stands silhouetted against the clouds. The sight pulls something within Victor’s heart. Its husk is like a scar, an unhealed wound forever reminding him of his past mistakes. And yet, it remains standing, refusing to break from what it suffered. A merge of regret and hope.
Victor drew his cloak tighter and pressed forward. Hope was a fragile thing, but even ruins could bear it.