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Andor merely nodded. “Why didn’t you run off after you were healed?”
“I thought my place was by his side for better or worse.”
Jonathan felt sick. The idea that he could end up like those pitiful creatures, locked away and forgotten, filled him with dread. But another part of him, the part that still yearned for Dracula despite everything, wondered if it might be worth the risk.
As if reading his thoughts, Andor placed a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. “You have a choice to make, little human. But make it with open eyes. The world you’ve stumbled into... it’s beautiful and terrible in equal measure. I often find that the change takes better to realist than idealists. A lot of these coffins here are filled with idealists. That east wing is filled with fanciful fools. I’m not saying there is no way you two could ever love one another, he was actually beginning to move on from persuing Béla before you arrived, at least that’s what I was told.”
“Then why send for me?”
“Old habits are hard to break.” he shrugged. “Especially for a Vampyre. We tend to fixate on things.”
Jonathan opened his mouth to respond, but a sudden, earth-shaking rumble cut off his words. The coffins rattled in their alcoves, dust raining down from the ceiling.
“What was that?” Jonathan gasped, steadying himself against a nearby wall.
Andor’s face had gone pale, his eyes wide with an emotion Jonathan had never seen in him before: fear.
“It’s started,” Andor whispered. “That worm Van Helsing has found us.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The underground chamber shook with another violent tremor, dust and small debris raining down from the ceiling. Jonathan stumbled, catching himself on one of the ornate coffins. Andor strode towards the chamber’s exit.
“Stay here,” he commanded, his voice brooking no argument. “The hunters will kill you on sight if they find you. You’re safer down here.”
Before Jonathan could protest, Andor was gone, vanishing up the stairs with inhuman speed. Left alone in the eerie silence of the tomb, Jonathan’s mind raced. The sounds of battle filtereddown from above – crashes, shouts, and an occasional inhuman shriek that made his blood run cold.
Upstairs, chaos reigned. Van Helsing and his hunters had launched a surprise attack, catching even Dracula off guard. The great hall of the castle had become a battlefield, with hunters wielding crossbows, silver-tipped stakes, and blessed weapons facing off against Dracula’s supernatural strength and speed.
Dracula was a blur of motion, his claws raking through the air as he fended off multiple attackers at once. Bodies littered the floor – some hunters, and some lesser vampyres who had answered Dracula’s call. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid smell of gunpowder.
As Andor burst into the fray, Van Helsing’s eyes widened in shock. “Another one!” he bellowed, his voice carrying over the din of battle. “Keep pressing the attack, men! We can’t let them regroup!”
Andor’s arrival seemed to turn the tide momentarily. He moved with fluid grace, dodging arrows and slashing at hunters with deadly precision. But Van Helsing was no ordinary opponent. The Vampyre hunter seemed to anticipate their moves, matching their supernatural speed with an uncanny ability of his own.
Outside the castle, a group of hunters worked feverishly, piling kindling and dousing the walls with oil. At Van Helsing’s signal, they set the blaze, flames licking up the ancient stones with unnatural speed.
Dracula’s nostrils flared as the scent of smoke reached him. His eyes widened in horror as he realized the hunters’ plan. With a snarl of rage, he dispatched the two hunters nearest to him and launched himself towards the upper floors. In his mind, there was only one thought: Jonathan.
Meanwhile, in the underground chamber, Jonathan paced restlessly. The sounds of battle above had intensified, and now he could smell smoke. His heart raced with worry – not for himself, but for Dracula. Despite everything he had learned, despite the horrors he had witnessed in the East Wing, he couldn’t bear the thought of Dracula coming to harm.
Making a split-second decision, he grabbed an old, unlit torch from a bracket on the wall. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it was better than nothing. He ascended the stairs, emerging into the chaos of the main castle.
The scene that greeted him was like something out of a nightmare. Bodies lay strewn across the floor, blood staining the stones. Smoke billowed through the halls, and the crackle of flames could be heard in the distance. Jonathan coughed, his eyes watering as he tried to make sense of the mayhem around him.
Andor materialized beside him, his clothes splattered with blood. “What are you doing?” he hissed. “I told you to stay below! You need to escape – there’s a secret passage in the tomb that leads out of the castle.”
Jonathan shook his head stubbornly. “I won’t leave without Dracula. Where is he?”
Before Andor could answer, a familiar voice rang out from above. “Jonathan!”
Looking up, Jonathan’s heart leaped as he saw Dracula on the upper balcony. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the chaos around them seemed to fade away. But the moment was shattered as Dracula’s voice cried out in warning.
“Behind you!”
Jonathan began to turn, but it was too late. Van Helsing, moving with impossible speed, was upon him. The hunter’s blade flashed in the firelight, and Jonathan felt a searing pain across his back. He stumbled, crying out in agony as he fell to the floor.
Dracula’s roar of fury shook the very foundations of the castle. In an instant, his form shifted, growing larger, more monstrous. Leathery wings unfurled, and his face elongated into a bestial snout filled with razor-sharp teeth. The giant bat-like creature that Dracula had become launched itself from the balcony, hurtling towards Van Helsing with murderous intent.
