Scene 7

It's not like anyone remembers what it was like in the womb. One can imagine, however, and that was the case with Alucard. Somehow he knew that this was similar to such an experience. Complete comfort. Complete darkness. Complete solitude. And who should ever wish to depart from such a wonderful place?

Yet Alucard felt a single tear upon the fabric of tranquility. The dhampire resisted, like swatting away an early rise in the morn. But each tug upon his soul brought memories flooding into his mind, this silent, soft cocoon. This was not right. This was not the end. There was much yet to be done...

How often was he awakened from slumber to accomplish some task? Alucard found he could not recall.

"What's wrong with you, Master? Wake up!"

A groan slipped from his pale lips. Something restrained his limbs. The dhampire grit his teeth, forcing his eyes to open. The color of freshly poured champange those eyes widened as they took in his predicament. He was suspended thousands of feet upon a rockface, bound by sticky, greenish webbing.

Like a splash of water to his face, Alucard recalled everything. The letter. Maria. Richter. His father. Shaft. Death. Succubus...Yes, it was her power which bound him here, and who knew how long before they returned to finish the job...

Something fluttered by...

"Oh, Master, you're finally awake! I've tried everything to wake you--"

Alucard cut him off, struggling in the strands. "I need your help to cut through this spell."

Deman gave a grunt that was something akin to indiginance. If not for the percarious situation, the half-blood might have laughed. "You're a real slavedriver, you know that?"

The dhampire didn't respond and Demon didn't demand one, setting straight to his task at hacking away at the sticky strands. To Alucard's annoyance, his long hair tangled easily in the webbing and his flowing cloak hadn't fared much better. Every time he fought to reclaim his sword, which hung but a few feet away, the infuriating webbing encircled something else. In fact it became apparent that this was not simply a sign of his failure to pick more body-hugging clothing or sensible length of hair...

T'was a spell. And one he would not free himself with mere mortal devices.

"Get back, Demon." The familar obeyed.

Closing his eyes, the dhampire focused within on the very core of his being. The part that harbored his vampiric blood. Often he loathed its presence but frequently it had been of a boon to him. Slowly his body disintegrated into a vaporous mist. The web curled, but could hold him no longer. Alucard passed through it as easily as one might an open door and he drifted down to the ground.

Alucard returned to his bodily form. For a minute he stared at the remains of his horse, what little there was anyways. Demon floated down with his sword and returned it to his master's sheath with nary a word.

Then they left.

*

Travelling without a horse made the walk tedious and the trek tiring even for one of his startling stamina. Still Alucard was no ordinary dhampire and transversed the terrain in a short few hours. Sand slid off his shoulders like the golden hair that made a constrast to his ebony garb. Demon was never far from his side, chattering about his prowess in slaying zombies or annoyingly but accurately reminding Alucard that too much sun was dangerous to him.

Of course, the dhampire was never much of a conversationalist.

The town of Wallachia came into view over the hazy horizon, its shabby buildings and even shabbier citizens huddled together like mean sticks of wood around a dying campfire. Alucard passed among them silently but not in silence. Hushed whispers trailed his beautiful form. Words of awe, anger, fear, hatred, lust, mistrust. He bore it all without a crinkle in his unearthly face.

Indeed the dhampire did not stop until he came upon a single-standing shop, notably in better condition than its peers. Alucard glanced up at the sign, that of a flaming whip traced around the lettering M O R N I N G S T A R. His lips twisted ever so briefly as he laid a gloved hand upon the door and pushed it in.

Inside was a stable with a line of surprisingly strong steeds. They stood feeding, stamping their hooves, tossing their manes, snorting, sleeping in their individual stalls. On the walls were knives, bottles of some mysterious blue water, axes, a large platinum cross and a single, yellow-paged bible. Alucard paid it all no heed. His eyes alone were for the store's sole occupant.

"I'd like to buy that horse." His finger indicated the best of the bunch, a black stallion that made more noise than the rest.

The cloaked storekeeper glanced up. A single lock of sunlight shaded hair fell out. The eyes could not be seen, though a small set of lips peeked out of the hood. "Three thousand gold coins, all pure...and if you don't like the price, go somewhere else."

The response came not in a single uttered word but the clink of coins as a bag of them dropped onto her weighing device. Stepping over to the horse, Alucard selected a single saddle that came complimentary, testing its size for his and proceeded to saddle him. Demon was elsewhere, causing who knew what mischief, the half-blood mused.

Meanwhile the storekeeper spared barely a moment's glance at the coins before resuming the task of fixing a whip.

Alucard had barely finished fitting over the bridle when the store's door came flying open. There then stood no less than a dozen vampire hunters with an assortment of gleaming and bloodstained weapopns. Each were aimed at either his heart or his head. His brow furrowed briefly, thinking this an inconvenient time for Demon to be away.

He had no desire to harm them but he realized it was unlikely they shared the sentiment...

"Surrender, vampire!"

"Drop your weapons now!"

"Put your hands where we can see 'em!"

Just as Alucard was about to speak the storekeeper interjected, the voice clearly female. "Now wait just a minute there, hunters. He paid good money for that horse."

The leader of the band snatched up the bag. Within seconds it was at Alucard's feet, minus a few coins that scattered in the bag's flight from the vampire hunter's hand-toss. "Take your money and go. We don't sell to vampires around here!"

The storekeeper growled. "What are you doing? That's my horse and I can sell it to anyone I want if they can afford the price I'm asking." Not a mere moment was afforded to the dhampire to come to his own defense. Though the features of the face were not yet unvieled, Alucard was certain he'd heard that voice before...

"You can't do that, ma'am." This was aggitating the leader too, for his eyes flashed on the storekeeper. "We have laws, good laws, and for a damn good reason." The rest of his henchmen crowded around, hanging on his every word, prepared to begin the fight. However, everyone, including the dhampire, was startled at the woman's next move.

"Looks like I'll have to take matters into my own hands..." In a fell swoop, she flung the cloak off to reveal her huntress gear, eyes as green as gemstones. A whip flashed out, the one she was working on, and snaked around the leader's neck. He gave a gasp and was about to break it, but in the other hand the woman held an axe and it was clear she knew how to use it...

Yes he knew her. Alucard decided to let this play out.

"Let me go you fool!" Fear waged with pride in the man's voice.

"I'd rather be a fool than what you are." Her eyes appraised the group. "Now while you're all here pay attention. There was once a time that this man was accepted by this town. A time not so long ago when he awoke from what was to be an eternal sleep to find Castlevania risen."

Like someone had turned back time, Alucard could feel the wind upon his face as he gazed upon the castle. It wasn't long ago, not even by a human's reckoning. The clouds. The lightning. Within the demons. The faces from his past.

"Inside he went to learn the source of its resurrection. Normally a Belmont takes on the task of slaying the castle's master. However, he found the castle was actually under the command of a Belmont."

He would never forget the shock of seeing...

"Richter Belmont. He was under a spell by the dark priest Shaft. Alucard fought him, freed him, saved him. He then went on to fight his own father. It was not an easy thing for him, but when it was finished, he emerged victorious."

Here the dhampire shut his eyes briefly, remembering the battle. He thought he would die by his father's hand that day. He'd barely had the heart to plunge his sword into the man's heart, even as the man was doing everything to kill his own son. What choice did Alucard have?

"The only necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing...right, Alucard?"

HIs eyes opened. He did not answer.

Her face softened, saddened. "And I'll never forget what you did for my husband."

All the human hunters gasped, mouths gapes, eyes wide. They beheld Alucard with a new mixture of awe, fear and respect.

"That's right," Annette said, twisting the whip just a bit as it appeared the leader might bolt. "That was my husband that this man saved. And how did we repay him for that? How did we repay him for killing his own father to save us all from the darkness?"

His mind's eye flashed with the memory. Torches. Whips. Crosses. Angry faces. Vicious shouting. Cursing. They came at him like a wave, apparently to tear away the life within his body. And in a way they did slay him, slain his spirit, his desire, hope, dream to claim a life among them.

"I always felt bad for you. How you were treated. How nobody thanked you. How nobody stopped you. Instead the ignorant bastards ran you right out of this town. Out of our lives. Out of hers..."

Alucard sighed. He'd had enough. Within the blink of an eye, he was upon the horse's back. A single cluck of his tongue and the steed stepped out of the stable, and toward the door. The hunters parted without a word; indeed they climbed over each other to get out of his way. But he halted a moment.

"Thank you." His voice was lead.

"No, thank you." A pause. "Alucard...Maria is--"

Whatever the huntress had left to say mattered not, drowned out by the hooves of the swiftly departing horse. Obedient like the tamest mare under his inhuman touch, the stallion carried him out of town, leaving only a trail of dust for the commoners to gawk at.

He did not even see Maria there, leaning against the wall of the store.