Iliana Van Helsing's Arc

Chapter 3 of 6

Iliana turned her back on the throne. She would not summon her father. He would die before he shook a vampire's hand. She had seen it in his eyes her whole life. So she walked. Out of the throne room, past the guards, into the cold. If Dracula wanted the head of the Guild, he could wait forever. She pushed through the great doors and stepped onto the castle steps. The steps stopped her cold. Skeletons hung on wooden stakes along both sides. Sharp points ran up through their spines. Old bones, human bones, left to rot in the mountain wind. She counted five before she stopped counting. Warning markers. Trophies. She gripped the strap on her coat and kept moving. A woman waited at the bottom. Iliana knew the red hair and the white veil that trailed back into the dark. This was Dracula's queen. The witch who resurrected him. The one who hid this whole kingdom from human eyes. Two strigoi mort flanked her, pale and winged, black eyes fixed on Iliana. The creatures' claws hung ready. "You made your bargains," the Mother said. "Four clans. Blood oaths." Her voice stayed low. "You forgot someone." "I named everyone Dracula named," Iliana said. Her hand drifted toward a holster. "He named vampires." The Mother took one step closer. "I rule witches. There was no truce for us." "Then swear one now," Iliana said. "Same terms. My family stops the hunts. You leave me alone." The Mother did not answer that. She looked past Iliana, up at the hanging bones. "Witch hunters," she said. "Your kind. My kind. On stakes." She let the word sit. "That is what your family gives mine." Iliana's mouth went dry. Those were not vampires on the stakes. They were people like her ancestors. The Van Helsings had come to these mountains before. They had not all gone home. The Mother's eyes dropped to Iliana's throat. To the silver necklace with its bright crystal. "That charm," she said. "It made you Dracula's equal. Worthy of talk." She smiled without warmth. "It does nothing against me." Iliana touched the pendant. It had shielded her in the court. It felt small now. The two strigoi mort spread their wings. Iliana drew a silver blade and set her feet on the cold stone. She would not die on her knees. "I did not come to fight you," Iliana said. "But I will." The Mother raised one hand. The strigoi mort went still. "No," she said. "You will bring me what I want. Or your father hangs on the next stake." She turned, and her veil dragged over the cobblestones behind her. "Find out what witches are owed. Then we talk." She was gone into the dark. Iliana stood alone with the bones and the shaking in her hands. She had walked away from one enemy. She had walked straight into a worse one. And the charm at her throat could not save her from this.