“Louder boys!” Satan insisted. “No one could hear you.”
“I vant to drink your blood,” they said with a bit more volume.
“Better,” the Devil congratulated the frightened foursome. “Now do the thing I showed you. And Leslie, do that thing with your eyes like you did in Airplane. That just slays me,” he said as he clapped his hands together in delight.
It had the makings of a horrific reality show. Bela Lugosi, Leslie Nielson, Gary Oldman and George Hamilton spread out and became something akin to an air guitar rock band as they chanted, I vant to drink your blood over and over. Bela was the lead singer. Gary was on drums with his vamp-bun bouncing dangerously to the left. Leslie was on air guitar making googly eyes and I was fairly sure George was on an invisible keyboard. Fucking unbelievable.
“This is for you, Dracula,” Satan yelled as the crowd began to laugh.
Even the Old Guard was shocked enough to chuckle at the mortifying spectacle. However, Vlad was quaking—literally.
For a brief second, I was certain he was going to blow up the room. The flames engulfing his body burned so bright I had to shield my eyes. Clearly Roberto and Satan were on the same page. As Vlad raised his hands above his head in a psychotic rage, he was zapped on two sides from both the Devil and the Angel standing next to me. They weren’t killing blows. They were warning blows.
“Enough,” Vlad screamed as he quickly recovered from the cautionary zaps. “This will end immediately.”
“But wait,” Satan said, goading the unstable Vampyre past his limit. “We’ve rehearsed more. Tell everyone your name boys.”
“I. Am. Dracula,” Bela Lugosi announced grandly as he whipped his shiny black cape around him and gave the crowd his patented evil eye.
The applause was loud and Bela took a deep and heartfelt bow.
“No,” Leslie Nielson shouted, shoving Bela out of the way and waggled his brows so high I thought they would hit his hairline. “I am Dracula.”
Clearly the actors were now relishing their roles thanks to the laughter from their audience. They were unaware of the deadly Vampyre seconds away from losing his shit.
“I am tan Dracula,” George Hamilton proclaimed in his best Transylvanian accent.
Satan’s spit take and loud guffaw were more amusing than the shit show on the stage. Not to be outdone by his competition, Gary Oldman jumped out in front, removed the pins from his bun, tore his shirt open as his hair tumbled around his face and revealed a pair of fake fangs.
“I am the real Dracula,” he grunted as he gnashed his plastic teeth at the now shrieking crowd.
“Is it time to break dance or do we fake fight and bite each other now?” George Hamilton called out to a doubled over Satan.
“Fucking improvise,” Satan commanded through tears of mirth.
And they did.
And it was brilliantly horrific.
And it did exactly what I wanted and expected it to do.
As Vlad fled the room in a furious huff, I grabbed Roberto and Jean Paul and tailed him.
“Cloak,” I hissed as we picked up our pace. “We can’t lose the bastard.”
“I can find a needle in a haystack,” Roberto bragged as he disengaged his arm and cloaked himself.
At this point I lost the ability to know if he was still with us, but I simply had to hope he’d keep his word. Jean Paul and I stayed in corporeal form and I led the way. We stayed close to the walls and followed him through several long hallways. I felt Raquel’s presence and halted as Vlad turned right into a room and slammed the door violently behind him.
“Raquel, you need to stay away unless you can hide your scent. It will destroy the entire plan if he knows you’re there,” I whispered. “Plus he wants you and there’s no telling what he’ll do in this state.”
“I know,” she grumbled. Her disembodied vice floated through the air. “I’ll go search for Ethan, Astrid and the gang and bring them here. Do not, under any circumstances, die. I will find you and kill you dead myself if something happens to you. Do you understand me?”
“That’s true love,” Jean Paul said with a chuckle.
“A little violent if you ask my opinion,” Roberto’s body-less voice chimed in.
“No one asked,” I said, relieved that he had kept his promise and followed. “I’m not sure exactly what will happen once we’re in,” I admitted carefully, “but stay cloaked until I drop mine and we’ll improvise.”
“Like the Draculas on stage?” Roberto inquired tightly.
“Yep,” I told him with a grin. “We can break dance and bite each other.”
“You undead people are highly unorganized,” he said in a tone laced with disgust.
“Yes well, we’re also highly motivated killing machines,” I replied flatly. “Most of us have consciences and can control our violent tendencies, however those like Vlad can’t. I say we go in and have a good time.”
“Because killing others is so delightful,” he spat.
“No, but eliminating bad fuckers is wildly enjoyable,” I shot back.
“I suppose when you put it that way… ” Roberto conceded. “But I’d prefer to take him alive if he’s committed these transgressions you accuse him of. Far more fun to torture the bastard.”
“I thought you weren’t into that,” I said with an eye roll.
“I’m into justice. I adhere to an eye for an eye philosophy,” he replied.