Gurdra scurried out of Morbius’ room, her heart thudding in her chest. The young cow-woman had only been of Guilding-age for a few months, and she still had a young girl’s awe of the knightly orders. And of Dr. Morbius. The human had a remarkable intelligence that put many of her peers to shame. He was a man very much in the mould of the Lord High Evolutionary, Blessed Be His Name, she thought, genuflecting instinctively as she moved down the corridor.

It was a shame, therefore, that one of Dr. Morbius’ obvious talents couldn’t see what was obvious to even a junior-scientist such as herself. And Mamuwald as well, of course, but then the Knights of Wundagore were not known for their abstract thinking skills. Creatures like Tagar and Mamuwald wished to keep the New Men penned up in their mountain prison, away from the world that the Lord High Evolutionary had created for them. And any who sought to free them were persecuted and eventually exiled or killed.

She touched the brand on her upper arm and a thrill of beautiful hate flooded her. The Mark of the Man-Beast would give her strength in the dark days to come. There were others who shared her desire, but none could be trusted with the secret she now held. A secret that could at last free the New Men from centuries of repression.

After descending into the lower levels of the mountain via pneumatic tube, Gurdra activated the sensor-jammer she carried on her person at all times. The Man-Beast (Blessed Be His Name) had crafted three of the devices. One had been lost with him, but the remaining two had come into her possession.

Stepping out of the tube way, she moved down a rough-hewn stone corridor that still smelled of N’Garai. The creatures had infested the lower depths of the mountain, nesting in odd pockets. This area had been one such until it had been scoured clean, but still, the greasy stink of the demonic creatures remained part of the very stone. At the end of the corridor was a hidden door. This too had been a gift from the Man-Beast (May He Return in Glory) - a hidden laboratory.

The door slid open at her approach. The familiar reek of old blood reached her nose and she shied away slightly. Steeling herself, she entered.

“Lord Dracula?” she said, looking around. He had shuttered the windows set into the sloping ceiling and sealed them, keeping the rooms in a permanent state of darkness and her eyes struggled to adjust. “Have you returned?”

“Of course, child,” Dracula purred as he stepped out of the shadows, his cloak pulled tightly around his form. “Dracula always returns. Have you news?”

“Your entry into the lower armories was discovered much more quickly than we anticipated, unfortunately. Dr. Morbius’ improvements to the internal sensor network-”

“Are easily avoided thanks to this remarkable device you gave me,” Dracula said, gesturing sharply towards the twin to her sensor-jammer attached to his belt. “As long as you continue to provide me with information, I will be able to avoid the sweeps of the patrols and maintain my freedom of movement.”

“Of course, my lord,” Gurdra said, inclining her head. Dracula smiled, displaying his fangs.

“Good.”

“I’ve brought the codes for the medium armories as well. They contain much of the Lord High Evolutionary’s – ah - ingredients,” she said, handing Dracula a file. “Within, I have no doubt you’ll find what you require.”

“Hmm.” Dracula flipped through the file, his eyes glinting. He looked up at her and inclined his head. “The Man-Beast, Mighty is His Fury, would be pleased, my child.”

“I serve at his pleasure,” she said, rubbing her brand again and smiling. “Anything for Him Who Will Return.”

“As it should be. Now, Dracula must sleep. Be about your duties,” he said, waving towards the door. She bowed and left, leaving Dracula alone in the darkness. Hurrying out, she headed back the way she had come, her steps quick and eager. So eager, in fact, that she didn’t notice the shimmering form that watched her departure from its position on the ceiling of the corridor.

Sir Khamai waited until the tube had lifted off, carrying Gurdra away, before dropping silently to the ground. The man-sized chameleon rose to a crouch and contemplated the doorway. While he was tempted to investigate on his own, prudence demanded that he inform his commanding officer that he’d discovered the probable lair of the beast they’d been tracking for the past few weeks.

Sighing, the knight scampered towards the pneumatic tube.

Inside the laboratory, Dracula laughed and tossed the file aside. Ignorant creature. So trusting. So eager to betray her fellows. Dracula laughed again, a sound like the gurgle of melting steel. It had been child’s play to beguile the creature into believing him to be, like her, a creation of the High Evolutionary. As if the glory of Dracula could have been molded by the whim of a mad geneticist!

Still, it was a useful ploy, one which had allowed him a certain amount of freedom to more fully explore the possibilities contained within the mountain. He had stumbled upon the laboratory and its equipment not long after his escape from the N’Garai. He had intended to flee Wundagore that very night, but his discoveries had held him in place. Despite the occult stench which seeped from the stone, it was a haven of science unlike anything Dracula had ever encountered.

And science, he was coming to learn, had its uses. Ever since he had first awoken in this new age of gods and monsters, he had seen the fruits of science. Flying men, rampaging behemoths, silver-skinned star-surfers, entities and energies to make his own hell-born might seem paltry by comparison.

When he had first arrived in London in 1888, he had seen the prototypes of what would become the modern automobile and been fascinated by them. He had considered their uses in transporting his legions, but had, alas, dropped the idea soon after. It was a mistake he still regretted.

Stalking deeper into the laboratory, he let his fingers trail across dusty machines until he came to a communications console he had found earlier in the month. Twisting a knob, he brought the machine to life, a smile curling across his thin lips. He had discovered how to use the device easily enough, but finding the right frequency had been a happy accident.

“Report,” a voice on the other end said. Dracula’s smile faded, replaced by a sneer.

“Speak to me with more respect, insect. Dracula is no lackey for you to vent your impatience on!” he hissed. Silence greeted his words. Then,

“I apologize. What have you discovered?”

“They are here. Or so the cow says.” Dracula pressed his fingers together as he sat back in the chair in front of the console. “I will discover the truth of her words tonight. And then-”

“Then you will do as we agreed.”

“Dracula’s word is his bond,” Dracula said, frowning. “As is yours.”

“Indeed. The devices you mentioned, you are certain they still function?”

“Oh yes. I have used them twice. Both times they functioned perfectly. The Man-Beast, whoever or whatever he was, built things to last.”

“Good. You have the coordinates?”

“Of course,” Dracula said.

“Then I await your arrival.”

“See that you do. I bid you good evening,” Dracula said, switching the console off with a flick of his wrist. It sickened him to have to work with cattle, especially when the beast in question was no more than a jumped up gypsy putting on airs. But needs must, when the Devil drove.

Dracula settled back in his chair to await the coming of the night, and the first step on his road to conquest.

---

Morbius closed the files with a careless gesture and leaned back in his seat. He rubbed his face and gave a groan. “Nothing,” he said. “How can that be?”

“He is a demon,” Mamuwald said, unsheathing his sword a fraction and slamming it back. The bat man leaned against the wall and looked out at the balcony and the mist-wreathed peaks beyond. “Perhaps some form of sorcery-”

“No. Dracula has never displayed a knowledge of such things. He’s utilized those who do, of course, but otherwise-” Morbius shook his head. “No. It’s something else. Perhaps-” He hesitated.

“What?” Mamuwald turned.

“He’s being helped.” Morbius said it softly. Mamuwald’s ears flickered.

“By one of us, you mean?”

“No. Yes. Maybe. I don’t know,” Morbius said. He ran his hands through his hair. “What really bothers me about this whole thing is why he’s even still here. It’s been more than a month since the N’Garai attempted to use him as a host for Chthon. He should have fled the mountain the first chance he got. We know that he can feed on your people, but he hasn’t killed any of those he’s attacked. Something about your blood doesn’t agree with him, obviously, so he’s not feeding as much as he normally would.”

“Aye. He’s scavenging,” Mamuwald said. “Picking off lone individuals and fleeing at the first sign of resistance. It’s almost as if he’s-”

“Conserving his strength,” Morbius said. “He’s planning something. But what?”

“Perhaps it has something to do with the armories,” Mamuwald said. “Perhaps-”

“Milord?” a voice hissed, causing Morbius to jump in surprise. He turned even as the thin shape of Sir Khamai bled into visibility. Mamuwald smiled.

“Report,” he said.

“It is as you suspected, milord. She’s in contact with him.”

“Who’s in contact with which? Mamuwald?” Morbius looked back and forth between the knights in confusion. Mamuwald sighed and scratched an ear.

“Gurdra.”

“What?”

“She is a Beastist. I have known for some time, but I hardly dared believe that she would-pah,” he said, blowing out a breath. He looked at Morbius, who gaped in confusion.

“A Beastist? What is a-”

“Followers of the Man-Beast. The devil himself is gone. Exiled to parts unknown, and bad cess to him. But his followers-his cult-remains. They lurk in every facet of our society. It has been my task, until recently, to root them out lest they destroy all that we have built.”

“And Gurdra-” Morbius shook his head. “Then why did you let her work with me?”

“She volunteered. I wanted to know why. We’ve known of her affiliations for some time, as I said. And, as such, we’ve used her to keep an eye on the others in her cell. But now she seems to have switched her allegiances to Dracula.” Mamuwald rubbed his chin, eyes gleaming. He looked at Khamai. “What did you learn?”

“The middle armories. That’s where he’s going,” Khamai said. “But as to why-”

“He’s searched the upper and lower armories already?” Morbius interjected. Mamuwald nodded. “Then the likelihood of that one containing whatever it is that he’s been searching for is excellent. Which means that tonight will be Dracula’s last night in Wundagore one way or another.”

“What do you suggest, Doctor?”

“We set a trap. I have taken the liberty of designing a number of devices which may give us the advantage, especially if Dracula is in a weakened state,” Morbius said, rising to his feet. “We’ll need all the men you can find, however. From painful experience I can tell you that no matter how weakened we may think Dracula is, it’s not going to be as much as we hope.”

---

Night fell. Gurdra waited at the entrance to the middle armories, shifting her weight impatiently. Dr. Morbius had allowed her to leave early with his usual blend of courtesy and surprise that she was still there.

She heard nothing, and when the cold hand fell on her shoulder, she uttered a surprised moan. Turning, she looked up into Dracula’s dead eyes. “You startled me,” she said.

“I apologize,” Dracula said, floating around her, his lower body only a thick mist. He glared at the door. “Open it. There is much work to be done this night.”

“You still haven’t told me-” Gurdra began, pulling a device out from within her robe. Dracula whirled, his eyes blazing. She fell silent. It wasn’t for her to question the will of a servant of the Man-Beast. She hurried towards the door and set the device against the locking mechanism. From within came the sounds of tumblers rotating. “I believe they’ll be easy enough to spot,” she said, Dracula hovering over her shoulder.

“Excellent. You have served me well, young woman,” Dracula said, his hands on her shoulders. She tensed.

“We all serve the Man-Beast, Lord Dracula. Blessed Be HisAHGHK!” Gurdra tried to scream as Dracula’s teeth sank into her throat, but the sound died as her windpipe crumpled. Dracula enveloped her within his cloak, draining her life with deep, guttural gulps. Then, when she had ceased all movement, he let her drop. He dragged the back of his hand across his face and a splatter of blood caressed the wall.

He grimaced. While the blood of the New Men was palatable, it was only just. The doors groaned as they slid open and he stepped over the body and into the middle armory of Wundagore. He had attempted to penetrate the doors before as a mist, but the designer had obviously considered such a method of entry. The armories were Celestial-proof, poor Gurdra had assured him.

Lights flickered to life automatically, alerted by pressure sensitive floor panels. Row upon row of stasis chambers were revealed, each containing a life-form in one stage or another of development. Dracula moved through the rows, examining the occupant of each chamber closely. Most were unfinished, or underdeveloped. Projects left to simmer by the High Evolutionary.

His claws made a squealing sound as he traced them across the glass of each case. Mutants and abominations, none were what he was looking for-ah! His eyes widened as he caught sight of a row of specially set aside containers. They were larger than the others, and each contained an adult human of perfect design.

“Yesssss,” he said.

Once before-or so poor Gurdra had informed him-the High Evolutionary had created his own race of gods from a sample of Asgardian DNA. He had done so again, using the genetic coding of the beings known as Eternals, hoping that his new breed of Olympians would prove less volatile than the New Immortals.

“Fool,” Dracula murmured. He gazed into the closest tube, eyes blazing. “Only an imbecile would seek to undo perfection. Still, it serves my purposes nicely.” He turned. “Ten. Ten new gods. And soon five of you will join me as masters of a blasted and damned Earth!”

“Monster!” The blade entered Dracula’s back and he bent forward with a scream. Sir Khamai crouched between Dracula’s shoulders, twisting his sword back and forth in an attempt to find the vampire’s heart.

“Get…OFF!” Dracula bellowed lashing out blindly. His backhand caught the chameleon knight in the side of the head and sent him flying. From out of the sea of stasis tubes, more knights rushed forward. Dracula spun, a beast at bay, as silver-tipped spears dug for his heart. “How? I would have sensed-”

“True. If I hadn’t created a chemical to hide our scents,” Morbius said, crouched on a gantry above the melee. He wore a variation of his old bodysuit, studded with thin, silver disks. “And, of course, replaced the lights with solar reflectors to further deaden your senses, Dracula!”

“What?” Dracula fended off a spear blow and looked up at the lights.

A sword glanced off his shoulder and he stumbled. Sir Mamuwald dove forward, not giving the vampire a moment to recover. Dracula rolled onto his back, catching the blade between his palms and drove it back with enough force to send Mamuwald flying. Dracula rose to his feet and swung an arm, shattering several spears. A knight charged him and he grabbed the creature’s head, twisting it sharply to the left. As the body fell twitching, Dracula spread his arms.

“Come then, so-called ‘New Men’. Come and taste the fury of Dracula!”

“No! Stay back! The monster is mine!” Morbius swung off the gantry and landed lightly on the floor. He sprinted forward and crashed into Dracula, wrapping his arms around the vampire’s shoulders. Dracula laughed.

“Fool! You would pit your frail strength against mine? You are no longer the demon you were, Doctor, and even then you were no match for Dracula!” Dracula flexed and broke Morbius’ grip. Even as he grabbed the front of Morbius’ suit, however, the former living vampire pressed two fingers to one of the silver disks. A beam of pure solar energy blazed forth and cut through Dracula’s wrist, shriveling the attached hand to a blackened claw!

“Augh!” Dracula stumbled back, face twisted into a rictus of stupefaction. Morbius tapped another disk, and another beam caught Dracula on the shoulder, spinning him around. “What-what-”

“Modified solar cells. One tap and they release their stored energy. I’ve been charging them for weeks in preparation for this moment, Dracula.” Morbius stalked forward. “Without the blood madness impeding my cognitive abilities I’ve made great strides in adapting much of the High Evolutionary’s technology for my own use.” He tapped another cell and the beam punched through Dracula’s back as if it were no more than smoke. Dracula screeched and thrashed. “I see you, monster, and know that however vile I was in the grip of my affliction, you are a thousand times worse. More, you enjoy it. I’ll see you burn if it’s the last thing I do-”

“As you wish,” Dracula snarled, twisting and lunging. Morbius fell, Dracula atop him. Fangs brushed Morbius’ throat and he screamed in sudden, raw panic. “Join me, Morbius! Your knowledge would serve Dracula well!”

“No! Never again! NO!” Morbius slapped as many of the cells as he could reach, eliciting a blinding explosion. Dracula screamed shrilly and was flung backwards, amongst the tubes. Burning, agonized, he scrambled for the teleportation transponder he had found in the Man-Beast’s lab and slapped it against the floor. “Doom!” he screamed.

“No!” Mamuwald said, reaching for the monster even as the row of stasis tubes became enveloped in a shimmering field. Morbius clambered to his feet even as the ten tubes, and Dracula among them, disappeared as if they had never been.

Mamuwald gave and angry screech and threw his sword to the ground. “Damnation! He’s escaped! And taken our Lord High Evolutionary’s property with him!”

“Perhaps,” Morbius said, rubbing his bruised throat. “But he can’t have gone far.” He rubbed a hand across one of the depleted cells. “I have a second chance at life. A chance to finally make up for my sins.” He leaned over, helping one of the knights to his feet. “I intend to ensure that he harms no one else.” He looked at the empty space where the tubes had once stood and crossed his arms. “Dracula will die again, even if I have to follow him to Hell itself!”

---

Elsewhere

The room was featureless. Smooth, save for the unblinking blister-eyes of a number of cameras set into the walls, floor and ceiling. Dracula looked up as metal shod feet came to a stop before him. He used one of the stasis tubes to pull himself upright to face his partner.

“Well?” he hissed, burnt face twisting in pain.

“Even as you promised. Ten perfectly evolved entities,” Dr. Doom said, running steel fingertips across the glass. “Ten dormant gods, awaiting the voice of their father to awaken them. How wonderful.”

“Five are mine, as we agreed,” Dracula said, forcing himself to stand up straight. “Once I have recovered, I will-”

“Turn them into fodder for your undead army?” Doom said. “How boring.”

“Do not presume to lecture me on how I run my affairs, gypsy!” Dracula snarled. “I have fulfilled my end of the bargain! Now you must do the same…transportation. Away from here. Somewhere I can compose a stratagem worthy of the name Dracula.”

“What? Like impaling everyone who doesn’t pay their taxes?” Doom said.

“You-”

“Did you honestly think that I intended to let you leave here with five demigods in your poisonous clutches? To let you spread your mad infection to creatures you might not even be able to control?” Doom said, stepping back. Dracula followed him, teeth bared. “You are a cancer, Dracula.”

“Perhaps,” Dracula said. “But if you do not help me-” He lunged, claws scraping across Doom’s armor. Or, they would have if Doom had been there. The holographic image spluttered out of existence as Dracula collapsed in a heap. He rose to his knees and howled in rage. “Thief! Betrayer!”

“King,” Doom corrected. His voice echoed from the walls of the room. “And now I will take my due even as you have in the past.” Even as Dracula turned, the ten stasis tubes vanished. He spun on his heel, trying to spot some way of escaping the room.

“And now, oh petty king? What awaits Dracula?” he hissed. “Will you add assassination to your list of insults against me?”

“No. No, Doom honors his bargains. You will be given transportation to a-ah-safe location. And when I have made a full study of these ten beings, five will be delivered to you, as we agreed.”

“So,” Dracula said, calming slightly. “You do have honor, after all.”

“Oh yes. Doom has honor. Goodbye, Dracula.”

Dracula began to laugh as he was again enveloped in the crackling wash of a teleportation field. But his laughter died even as the energy faded and he stumbled forward in a cloud of dust. He looked around, momentarily bewildered. Then, as his location became apparent, useless rage filled him.

Yes. Doom had honor. No enemy of Dracula’s would find him here. Indeed, who would even think to look for him in such a place? And Dracula had no doubt that Doom would deliver on the remainder of his promise, eventually. After all, what good would it do Dracula now?

Above him, the stars seemed to laugh at the grim jest. Dracula screamed, but no sound came forth from his ravaged throat. He glared wild-eyed at the Earth as it hove into view before him.

Dracula raised his fists to the uncaring cosmos and raged impotently as the light of the Earth shone idiotically down on the barren surface of the Moon…

---

END