Mary Van Helsing was dazed and confused.

"Mary!" Simon shouted, running over to her, making sure she was alright. With a look upwards, Simon followed her gaze. Above them, hanging from a crucifix, was Dracula himself. And he was in flames.

"Mary, are you alright?" Simon asked. Mary simply nodded, still staring at the vampire ablaze.

"We should go," Simon suggested. Again, Mary nodded. The two stood up, and as they walked away, Mary glanced back.

The flaming figure was gone. Only ashes remained.

The ashes of Judas Iscariot.

Night had swept over New Orleans, Louisiana. The street sweepers rumbled across the pavement, clattering to clean up whatever the city folk left on the streets.

After the deadly events with Count Dracula, Simon and Mary fled to London, seeking shelter in her father's home. Mary's home in Louisiana was left untouched.

Sort of.

"Hurry, Em!" Andrew shouted to his sister, Emmy. Emmy rolled her eyes.

The Collins twins were orphans, living on the streets and avoiding foster homes at all costs. The two started their journey in Tennessee, and had gotten as far as New Orleans, barely managing to escape several cops, who had recognized them from a foster home in Nashville, by knocking one out, and throwing large hair clips at the others.

Emmanuelle Angeline Collins was sixteen, with long, slightly curled, reddish blond hair that reached her elbows, inquisitive brown eyes, and creamy, pale skin. She was street smart, book smart, and extremely beautiful. At a foster home when she was thirteen, she had about nine boys falling for her. Her brother, Andrew David Collins, was the sports type, also sixteen, with shaggy brown hair, brown eyes, and skin rather tan when compared to Emmy's. He was a sort of ladies man, but very protective of his sister when it came to boyfriends and such.

With a burst of adrenaline at the sound of sirens, the two rounded a corner into an alleyway, crouching behind a row of dumpsters. The sirens grew louder, then died out as the police cars sped past.

"Fool's luck," Andrew panted. "That was fool's luck."

Emmy nodded. "But we got away, didn't we?"

"We need to find an empty house," Andrew said. "For shelter tonight. We can't risk the streets."

With a few deep breaths, the two began a brisk jog, stopping after a few blocks. They had finally spotted an empty house. 117 Cherry Tree Lane. The twins ran around the back, picking the back door's lock, then scouted around the house.

It was a nice house, for the most part. But upstairs was a shattered mirror, with words in a foreign language sprawled across the wall, and downstairs, one of the bedrooms had blood everywhere.

"This is beyond creepy," Emmy whispered to herself. She examined the words on the wall with a gasp. She looked at Andrew. "It's Aramaic."

Andrew didn't question his sister. If Emmy was sharp with anything, it was foreign languages. In their spare time, if they had spare time, she was always using things like foreign dictionaries or Rosetta Stone.

"What does it say?" he asked. The wall itself read,

עקבו אחריי, כי אני בדרך אל הנצח

"'Follow me, for I am the way to eternity'," she recited.

"Creepy," Andrew muttered, walking down the stairs. "Hey, I'm going to see if there's anything in the kitchen. Yell if you need me."

"Alright," Emmy said, looking around. She stepped into another one of the bedrooms, shutting the door behind her. She fell to the bed with a sigh, not even bothering to look around at her surroundings, and was soon in a deep, undisturbed sleep.


Reviews, much?