As a writer, Marc had always been fascinated by the life of Bram Stoker. So much so in fact, that for the previous ten years he had thoroughly researched it.

Marc was a tall individual, though he disliked the increasingly greying hair. As he stood at the door of the old cottage in south town, he noted the almost faded notice overhead.

Bram Stoker stayed here.

Smiling ruefully, he knocked and the owner appeared almost at once.

“You got my call.”

The gent was a retired teacher of fifty and greeted him warmly.

“I was wondering if you would show up mate. The room is ready for you.”

The sitting room still showed the dark wooden beams of old, as he was led toward the rear.

“This is the room that Bram stayed in,” the owner said proudly. “You are the first to visit in five years.”

This sad news stunned Marc of course.

“No one knows about this?”

“In Foxley you mean? Afraid not. I was surprised when you called.”

Marc entered the small room, dominated as it was by the single bed.

“Do you know the story behind his coming?” Marc asked putting his travel bag down.

“He wanted to visit that tomb as I understand it.”

“That is correct,” the writer replied. “I was hoping to visit it myself.”

“Unlike some cemeteries, ours is open all night. Have some soup first though.”

Marc accepted the offer with kindness and as he ate, he pondered the coming experience.

Finding the cemetery that night was no problem. The old graves were located at the south side, whilst the modern section had been added to the north wing. Not far from the open gates, stood a flat stone that was enclosed by metal railings. When Marc reached it, he shivered at once.

“I wonder what secrets you hold?” he muttered.

He looked around at the sad vista and crept behind a headstone worn smooth with age. As the minutes passed he waited with baited breath.

“Nothing seems to be happening,” he moaned. “I wonder why not?”

He crept forward and gazed upon the old stone.

“Oh I see. Well, I’ll just have to remove it that’s all.”

He noted that the bars were widely spaced and just about managed to squeeze through. He knelt as you do and tried to prize the small silver crucifix out of its proper location. After a few minutes of this, it finally broke free.

“That should do the trick,” he whispered.

It did more than that of course. Before he could stand, a dark shape appeared before his startled eyes. Blood red eyes regarded him for a moment before powerful arms hauled his throat into the waiting jaws.

For the writer, his search for the truth was over at last.

As the sun rose, the gardener arrived as usual to tend the cemetery lawn. A rather sprightly gent, he enjoyed tending the old graves, something he had carried out for twenty years now. As he approached the old tomb, he stopped. At first, he could not work out what was wrong. Then he saw the crumpled body within the old enclosure.

“I had better get the police.”

“Morning doc,” Nixon said happily. “What have you got for us today I wonder?”

The doc regarded this kind of humour with disdain.

“The forensic boys had to lift him out of the enclosure for me. His throat was torn open by some kind of animal I would say.”

“He was actually inside?” Sergeant Percy asked.

“That is the peculiar thing,” the medic said. “Perhaps the animal was chasing him.”

“What kind of animal are we talking about?” the DI asked.

“Judging by the bite radius a small dog would fit the bill.”

“I’ll read your report later doc,” the DI said.

As they were about to leave the scene, Percy tripped over a clod of grass and saw the old crucifix.

“Damn silly thing,” he muttered before tossing it away.

As night fell, Sheela stretched out upon her bed, gazing out of the open window. Being on the top floor did have its benefits. No peeping toms.

“I just hope to get some sleep,” she muttered. “Eight hours typing is no ruddy joke.”

She stripped her clothes off lazily and was in the process of removing her socks when a dark shape flitted into the room. Sheela heard the flapping wings and looked up at once.

“That’s all I need, a bat.”

She picked up the top as the black creature flew around the room.

“I’ll soon get you out mate. Shoo!”

The animal ignored her as it flew toward the floor. She raced to intercept when a tall, dark figure rose and cackled loudly. No one heard the scream that signalled yet another victim.

“So who found her,” the DI asked as he pondered the scene.

“A friend sir,” the sergeant replied.

The DI gazed at the still body and the bloody sheets upon the bed.
The terrible gash upon her throat was blatantly obvious.

“Don’t try and blame the dog again,” the DI said as the medic entered the bedroom.

He examined the body carefully and shook his head.

“Exactly the same as the other fellow,” he commented. “Did you read that report?”

The DI nodded.

“Total blood loss you said. If that had been true, the grave would be swimming in the stuff.”

“You obviously missed the bottom bit then,” the medic said.

“About it being removed you mean?” sergeant Percy asked.

“That is what I wrote. As for the dog bit. This confirms it I’m afraid.”

“No animal could have broken in here,” the DI protested.

“I tend to agree sir, and that is why I changed my mind.”

“So what are we dealing with?”

The medic stood up.

“I concluded that the male fell against those rails whilst trying to get to the tomb. That would explain the wound. Soon after an animal, yes a dog, simply licked the flowing blood away.”

“They do that?” Percy asked.

“Of course sergeant,” the medic replied.

“That still leaves her,” the DI reminded him.

“I can’t say what caused the wounds at present. You’ll have to read another report.”

The DI was not too happy with that explanation. When they reached the panda car, he sat inside brooding.

“What’s up boss?”

“I can’t help feeling that the doc is barking up the wrong tree and taking us along with him.”

“Do you think we are dealing with a madman?” Percy asked.

“I’m not so sure of that either sergeant. Take us to Charly will you. Let’s see what he thinks.”

As Charly sat in his cluttered lounge listening to classical music, he heard the door rap with some annoyance. Turning to Christine he muttered, “Sounds like the DI again darling. You would think that he could solve his own cases.”

He allowed them in of course. A natural burning curiosity had guaranteed that.

“So how can I help you today Nixon?”

As they sat upon the sofa, the sergeant pointed to the crucifix that hung over the kitchen door. They had noticed this before but never had the nerve to ask why.

Charly noted the interest and opened up.

“It helps keep my soul safe as well as offering peace of mind.”

“Oh I see,” Percy said.

“We do have a rather unusual case,” the DI said.

“Then tell me all about it.”

When the details were complete Charly asked, “Both victims sustained throat wounds?”

“That’s right,” the sergeant said.

“Who was this writer anyway?”

“He wrote biographies my boy,” the DI said. “He was staying at the old cottage in Southside. We collected his travel bag.”

Charly thought this over for a moment.

“I really don’t like the sound of this you know. I should have a word with the owner.”

“Whatever for?” the sergeant asked.

“Just an idea that I have. Come on then, before it gets dark.”

The retired teacher was still in shock when they arrived at the old cottage. As they sat down, he muttered, “To think, he never got to sleep in the famous room.”

Charly pricked his ears up.

“Your room is famous?”

“My spare room is. The author of ‘Dracula’ stayed there.”

“Was Marc researching him?” Charly asked.

“Who Stoker? I suppose so.”

“Why visit the tomb at night?” the DI asked. “Did he tell you?”

The teacher looked rather shy.

“I would rather not say.”

“It could help you know,” Percy said gently.

“Stoker was here to research the book you see. He must have heard about the old story.”

“What old story?” Charly asked.

“The story about our vampire of course.”

This was a revelation to his guests. Neither of them had even heard of it.

“You better tell us,” Charly suggested.

Around the 1400’s some guy was about to be hanged here for rape. He warned that if this happened, he would return and take revenge. Of course he was executed but soon after people started turning up dead.”

“Drained of blood?” Charly asked.

“Exactly. So the authorities dug him up and rammed a stake through his heart, and reburied him in the cemetery. You see in those days, felons were buried at the crossroads. Of course the vicar had a fit!”

“So after being staked the attacks stopped?” Charly asked.

“They did indeed. To make doubly sure, they attached a silver cross to the stone you see.”

Charly had heard enough and stood to leave.

“I don’t think that we need to disturb this gent any longer Nixon. Thanks for the info.”

As they were leaving the gent asked, “How did Marc die by the way?”
Charly flashed a warning look at the DI.

“A tragic accident sir. He fell upon those railings.”

The teacher nodded.

“Thought as much. I tried to get them removed a year ago but the ruddy council refused. I hope they can’t sleep tonight.”

As they sat inside the car, the DI turned to Charly and asked, “What do you make of that?”

“I know what I think but it will keep for now Nixon. In the meantime, you can take me home. Are the victims still in the morgue?”

“Why do you ask?” the sergeant said.

“Perhaps they should be cremated.”

The two officers glanced at each other before the car headed across town once more.

As the sun went down that night, the creature rose from his infernal rest. With perfect vision, combined with hellish power, he scanned the surrounding area. He had no idea of what the authorities were up to of course, he cared even less.

“This is a strange time,” he muttered. “Strange and virgin. I’ll rule over these mortals yet.”

He spread his arms wide, an action that triggered transmutation. As the bat rose into the night air, its keen hearing picked up the sound of a laughing child. It tracked that sound to its source, eyes watching as the youngster skipped along the path not so far from home and safety.

As she reached the corner, an ominous black shape rose out of nowhere and tore her throat to shreds.

Across the town, dogs howled their protest at the vile act.

When Charly turned on the morning news, he was horrified to learn of the latest death. He grabbed his mobile and barked, “I need to see you both right now!”

The officers arrived promptly and Charly asked for details at once.

“The girl was around twelve,” the DI explained. “Heading home from the club when she was attacked.”

“Same MO?”

“According to the doc yes. As for the woman, her blood loss was total as well.”

“You do know the implications of what you are saying?”

The DI shook his head.

“We still think a madman did these crimes.”

“Not a vampire?” Charly asked.

“So that is why you wanted the bodies burnt,” the sergeant said.

“It does actually work.”

“Apart from the blood loss, what proof is there?” the DI asked helplessly.

“How about proof of your own eyes. You must have seen the damn wounds.”

“They were pretty severe but not vampiric. Two holes over the jugular? They did not look like that.”

Charly could hardly believe it.

“Can you get us into the morgue? I’m sure you have the authority.”

“Whatever for?” the DI asked.

“You want solid proof? I’ll get you some.”

After a call, the DI took the civilian to the local hospital and beyond the restricted zone. Charly was greeted by a friendly young woman of thirty who had replaced her unfortunate predecessor.

“Sorry about this,” the DI said. “It’s part of our ongoing investigation.”

“What do you need?”

“A look at the latest three victims,” Charly said coldly.

The mortician turned to the cold storage trays and pulled open three of them.

“They were pretty damaged,” the woman warned.

Charly looked them over before reaching inside his pocket and pulling out a rosary.

“What on earth are you going to do with that?” she asked.

Charly glanced up.

“Just watch.”

As he placed the holy object upon the hand of each victim, the smell of burning filled the air.

“Well I’ll be damned,” the woman muttered.

“Enough proof Nixon? They have to be cremated soon.”

The officer nodded and led the way out.

“I’ll get a court order today. What else can we do?”

Charly smiled.

“How does setting a trap appeal to you?”

As darkness fell, Charly lay behind an old gravestone, clutching his rosary nervously. Within the other hand, the sharpened stake was ready. The DI and Percy lay beside him, watching the suspected tomb with mounting fear.

“I really hope that you know what you are doing mate,” the DI whispered. “I don’t fancy having my ruddy throat ripped out.”

“Neither do I Nixon. We have no alternative now.”

Charly watched a few moments longer.

“What if he doesn’t show?” Percy asked.

“Don’t worry about that,” Charly assured him. “He won’t be able to stay put.”

A dark shape suddenly appeared within the spiked enclosure and
Charly ran into full view.

“Looking for me chum?”

The malevolent creature hissed as he spotted the arrogant mortal.

“You dare to challenge me weakling? Come to your death then.”

As Charly moved bravely forward, the DI and Percy emerged unarmed.

“A group of fools eh?” the creature hissed. “Never mind, you will pay for it with your lives.”

The creature laughed and transmuted before soaring skywards. As Charly watched, it swung around and dive-bombed the mortals.

As they ducked, it tried again but on that occasion, Charly threw the rosary at the fiend. With a loud hiss, it struck and the bat crashed toward the grass. As Charly raced to the scene, he saw the creature writhing upon the ground, apparently unable to move.

“This is for your innocent victims!”

The stake was plunged deep into the heart of the inhuman monster. As it screamed in utter terror, the police officers arrived.

“It’s over now,” Charly muttered. “Its disintegrating you see.”

They watched silently as the body turned to white ash. A light breeze blew the fragments away.

“We can go now,” the sergeant said at last.

“Hold it a second,” Charly said picking the rosary up. “Hand me the torch.”

The sergeant pulled it from his jacket and handed it over. Switching on, Charly shone the beam upon the bloodied stone.

“The words are just readable.”

“What does it say?” the DI asked.

“Here lyeth the body of Tanworthy and Helda.”

“There are two of them?” the sergeant asked.

“I’m afraid so mate.”

Charly stepped forward and placed the rosary upon the stone. Turning smartly he said simply.

“Make sure that it’s cemented to that stone in the morning Nixon.
Otherwise we will see this again.”

“I’ll make damn sure of it.”

As they headed back towards the waiting car, an unearthly howl rent the cold night air.

“What the hell was that?” the sergeant asked.

Charly stopped dead.

“It seems something else has arrived in Foxley. Now it gets really dangerous.”

The two stunned officers glanced at each other as Charly walked away at high speed.

this ones really good, :) got my attention right away, Thank you!

Ta...