Robert
He couldn’t remember the last time he ran so hard. Antione’s confusion drove him forward, almost getting hit by a car as he left the diner behind. His phone felt like a dumbbell dragging him down, but Robert forced himself to keep going. He couldn’t afford to screw up. Not now. Robert didn’t stop until he was at the final turn leading to his apartment building. He held his breath and strained to pick up the slightest sense that something was wrong.
Thank god Antione didn’t follow me. I know what I promised, but there has to be a better way for him to learn. The sounds of cars bustling, people talking, the wind whistling as if to mock everything Robert was trying to do, all surrounded him along with… nothing. No werewolves howling in the night, looking to finish what Jean-Claude started, and nothing to suggest Robert was being observed.
It didn’t make him feel better, but a final check of his phone and the text made Robert abandon his hopes of building a positive relationship with his oldest son—and steeled his resolve. I’ll make it up to you. All of you. I promise. Robert’s heart rate returned to normal as he slowly entered the building and up the stairs to the third floor until he saw his front door and stopped.
Several scratches, not unlike the kind a werewolf would make, bit deep into the wood, leaving a small pile of peelings on his welcome mat. He didn’t need to touch them to know the scratches were fresh. Robert tested the doorknob and smiled slightly when it refused to turn.
A warning, then? Someone is playing a dangerous game. He unlocked it, already thinking of an excuse to tell the landlord when the hairs on the back of his neck rose. Robert tensed, closing the door as he spotted an unfamiliar shadow cutting across his floor and into the living room.
Robert sniffed the air and shuddered before slowly entering what should have been the heart of his sanctuary. But now, it felt like a cage as he finally moved close enough to see his… guest. A man in his late forties, wearing a black blazer over a matching pair of pants, was sitting at his coffee table with a book Robert had purchased two days before he picked up Camille for their family bonding trip, which had gone horribly wrong.
The man didn’t look up as he read the title out loud. “Swamp Cat. What a… fascinating tale, Robert. Very riveting. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“And I didn’t think you were the type to break into someone else’s home, Dracula.”
The count snorted, dropping the book onto the table and meeting Robert’s aggressive brown gaze with a calm—almost indifferent blue one.
Dracula didn’t smile, his tone was the perfect blend of culture and elegance mixed with smoke, as he stated. “A vampire was killed in this area a few days ago.”
Robert’s eyes widened in shock, but he collected himself before replying. “I’m… sorry to hear that.”
“Are you?”
“I am,” he declared, taking the other chair across from Dracula and continuing. “The situation in Louisiana has gotten out of hand. I take responsibility for it, and I’ll help you find the killer.”
Dracula smirked, not revealing any teeth, as he stared him down. “Will you now? Take responsibility? You speak as if you are the sole power in this state. Yet, I haven’t heard of any takeovers recently. Tell me, Robert. How are you going to take responsibility?”
Robert frowned and sat up straight. Why is he focusing on that? “I’ve… there’s been a change in power amongst some of the packs, and–”
“I don’t care.” Dracula didn’t move, yet his voice carried an edge to it. “About your fellow mutts. You said you would take responsibility. I’m holding you to your word. Now, tell me. How you intend to do it.”
“The same way I deal with any problem. I’ll use everything at my disposal, and–”
“That won’t do.”
Robert glared and took a deep breath. Stay calm. He’s toying with you. “With all due respect. This is my home. You came here for my help, and–”
The air around the count shifted as a photograph, the kind taken with an instant camera, neatly appeared in front of Robert. He stared at it, fighting the wave of nausea as a mess of entrails, exposed muscle, and pale bone greeted him. It shouldn’t have disturbed him after what had happened in the woods.
It wasn’t even the bloodiest body he’d seen outside of TV. No, the horror wasn’t because of the body itself. It was the knowledge that it used to be a vampire that made Robert’s instincts scream for him to run because anything that can kill a vampire is a threat to his family. He met Dracula’s gaze and asked. “Why are you showing me this?”
“You don’t recognize him?”
“I don’t.”
“It’s Klaus.”
Robert stared at Dracula in confusion and picked up the photo with a slightly shaking hand. It can’t be. “I… haven’t thought about him in many years… What was he doing here?”
Dracula tapped the table with a pale fingernail. “You didn’t know Klaus was here?”
“Why would I? I just said–”
“He was killed in the forest not far from here. Behind a bar, I believe.”
Robert felt like he’d been doused with a bucket of ice water. “What are you saying?”
“Have you lost your sense of hearing? I’m telling you that Klaus was killed a handful of miles from your home.” Dracula leaned forward, the room growing darker as his eyes glowed red. “And you already promised to take responsibility. Twice.”
Robert shook his head, letting the photo fall to the floor as he rose. “How dare you. You have no evidence, nothing to suggest I had anything to do with this!”
Dracula’s tone was calm, almost emotionless, as he countered. “You have motive. You’ve wronged him in the past.”
“I did no such thing!” Robert felt his inner wolf snarling, but he didn’t give in to it yet. Dracula could have found and killed me if he wanted to. He wouldn’t have come here in person just because of Klaus and… and since when does he scratch doors to announce himself? The thought wasn’t enough to quell his rage, but it helped. Something else was going on, and he was determined to find out what it was. “Did you come here alone?”
“I did. Klaus’s mother has left vengeance in my hands.”
“But you haven’t found the killer yet,” Robert stated, feeling the wind shift again as a second photo, the same kind as the first, appeared neatly in the middle of the table. Robert’s blood froze as he saw a familiar scowling face sitting in the dinner he’d just left. Antione!
The count’s face remained expressionless as he said. “Someone must take responsibility.”
“Not him. Not Antione. He’s my son. He didn’t do anything!” A million thoughts raced through his mind, each so outlandish or terrifying he almost missed when Dracula placed a third photograph, one of him, next to Antione’s. The message was clear, but the count said it anyway.
“You or him. This is why I’ve come to you. Choose.”
Robert shook his head and backed up, feeling his nails lengthen into claws as he growled. “I won’t let you hurt my son.”
Dracula nodded. Robert didn’t know if it was in approval or merely acknowledgment. But his tone was the same as he placed his hand, still human-looking, still dangerous, around a small chain dangling from his breast pocket. “And I won’t let you hurt what is important to me. You asked if I came alone. I told you the truth. But you should know this by now, Robert. There are many vampires who live here. And they have their orders.”
The count tapped Antione’s photo, leaving a perfectly shaped crescent dent in his forehead as he waited for Robert’s next move. Message received, you bastard. “How the mighty have fallen. I didn’t think you were the type to target children, Dracula.”
“That thing isn’t a child.” He coldly stated, still showing no signs of preparing to defend himself despite knowing Robert could close the distance in one leap. “It shouldn’t have been born.”
Robert growled lowly. “His name is Antione.”
“I don’t care.”
“He’s Theresa’s son!” Robert shouted, causing Dracula to sigh as he shook his head.
“I know.”
“You know. But you’re still threatening her child?”
Dracula raised his hand, palm pointed toward Robert warningly. “Do not speak to me about threatening children. Word has traveled about what happened here a few weeks ago. You brought four untrained whelps into an area not your own…”
Suddenly, the count moved, slamming Robert into the wall, hand squeezing just short of breaking the werewolf’s neck as he hissed, baring fangs the world had learned to fear. “… and you didn’t protect them!”
Robert grabbed the hand, pinning him, but it refused to move. His claws bit into Dracula’s skin, spilling bright red blood in fat tiny rivers… only to watch it slow and trickly back into the cuts and sealing them as if nothing had happened. Dracula smiled, a crazed edge slowly overcoming the calm, emotionless facade he’d worn earlier.
“I fed before coming here. A pretty little waif only a few years older than your… spawn.” He leaned in, letting Robert smell his bloodstained breath as he whispered. “We can continue if you wish. You’ve proven to be a challenge in the past, but… your abomination dies the moment you do. I’ll make it quick. I promise you this. So, I ask you one last time. How are you going to take responsibility?”
Robert wanted to kick him away. All of his instincts—the Alpha, the werewolf—saw Dracula as the ultimate threat, even greater than Jean-Claude. But Robert was also a father, and he knew Dracula wasn’t lying.
“She’ll never forgive you,” he promised with steely eyes. “Theresa will have your head if you hurt her child.”
Dracula studied him, face returning to an emotionless state as his eyes became blue again. He slowly released Robert’s neck and stepped back. “I don’t need her forgiveness—or anyone else’s, for that matter. I only need her to survive… You understand that much, don’t you?”
He did. Robert understood perfectly, but he didn’t need to answer Dracula. He had other things to worry about. “You said you would find the killer. How are you going to do that? I know you don’t fear the other werewolves, but they won’t tolerate you killing me without provocation. And neither will some of the local Voduists. Louisiana is their domain.”
Dracula scoffed. The Voduists are human. Gifted. But still human. You’ll have to do better than that if you’re trying to stall.”
“I’m not stalling.” They stared at each other, waiting for the other to move before Dracula pointed at the door.
“Let’s go.”
“Go?”
The count nodded. “I would prefer not to have to drag you.”
“But I don’t understand. You said you’re holding me responsible for Klaus’s death. Why aren’t you trying to kill me yet?”
“I said I’m holding you to your word about taking responsibility. Luckily for you, I haven’t given up on finding the killer.” Dracula lightly pulled on Robert’s shoulder, grip loose enough to avoid hurting him as he continued. “But make no mistake. Few things would please me more than to see you dead.”
Robert nodded slowly. “Killing me isn’t going to change anything, Count. Neither will killing Antione.”
“And that’s where you’re wrong. You see his death as murder. I understand. But what I’m doing is nothing short of a mercy.” The door opened, revealing a peaceful empty hallway, welcoming them with open arms.
