The Vampiress Morgana left the ancient Cornwall house just before dawn.
She was feeling weak for some reason.
She could not understand why.
There was something about drinking Dracul Van Helsing's blood that had an effect on her.
She felt too weak to fly.
She would have to find one of the caves or abandoned mines along this coast to rest while it was day light.
As she walked, she noticed a moss covered rock that seemed to have something that struck her eye.
She brushed away the moss and it looked to be the top of a sword sticking out of the stone.
She tried to pull the sword out but it wouldn't budge.
Seeing rosy glints in the sky just before the onset of the rising sun, she hurried to a nearby cave.
Later that morning, Dracul Van Helsing walked along that same path.
* * *
Amadeus Emanon, personal concert pianist to the multi-millionaire (and formerly billionaire) ancient Egyptian vampire Set looked at Renfield R. Renfield the Chief of Security and Intelligence Gathering For Set Enterprises. They were both standing on a street corner in downtown London.
"It looks like you've got something up your sleeve this morning," Amadeus said.
"An ancient Japanese samurai knife actually," Renfield replied.
"I was meaning it in the metaphorical sense," Amadeus explained, "but that's nice to know."
"What I've got up my metaphorical sleeve," Renfield smiled, "is I plan to kidnap Oysterella the pet cat of Heathcliff Dionysus Campbell the Executive Vice-President of Aulos Records."
"But why?" Amadeus paused in the middle of eating his Salt and Vinegar potato chip.
"Blackmail," Renfield answered, "I intend to find out what's in the Vampiress Morgana's recording contract with Aulos Records."
"And why do you need to know that?" Amadeus bit his chip.
"My own personal curiosity," Renfield shrugged.
Amadeus remembered the expression Curiosity killed the cat.
"Is it really necessary to kidnap Mr. Campbell's cat?" Amadeus asked.
"Yes," Renfield nodded.
"But it's such a nasty thing to do," Amadeus explained.
"Nasty? What's that?" the morally challenged Renfield shook his head, "I shall do it anyways."
"But this week seems like such an inauspicious week to do it," Amadeus opened his can of Lemonade Shandy Ginger Beer, "after all this week marks the 98th anniversary of when the Titanic struck the ice berg."
"It's hardly likely that I'll be hit by a bunch of ice in the middle of downtown London," Renfield proceeded to cross the street.
At that moment a refrigeration truck spun out of control, hit a light post, fell over on its side and opened up its refrigerators burying Renfield under a pile of ice.
* * *
A Paris nightclub on the evening of Monday, April 12th 2010.
Attired in a pink leather mini dress, the brunette Russian vampiress Svetlana Kireeva entered the ladies' washroom.
The Vampiress Svetlana was an agent for the Russian FSB (the successor of the old Soviet KGB).
Unbeknownst to her, the blonde Ukrainian vampiress Inna Huculak followed. She was wearing a red leather mini dress.
The Vampiress Inna was an agent for the Ukrainian Secret Intelligence Service.
Svetlana was about to apply her lipstick when she noticed Inna behind her but it was too late.
Inna had Svetlana pinned against the wall.
"I want to know," Inna said, "was that plane crash near Smolensk that killed the Polish President and other Polish leaders- was that deliberately planned?".
"It was an accident as far as I know," Svetlana gasped, "but why should it concern Ukraine?".
"Because," Inna explained, "it might be a case of Today Poland, Tomorrow Ukraine as far as nefarious FSB activities go."
Svetlana tried to smile a humourous smile, "Well it can't be a case of Today Poland because the plane crash happened this past weekend."
"Enough of your sick sense of humour," Inna slapped Svetlana's face.
Soon a huge cat fight erupted between the two.
Hair pulling.
Torn pantyhose.
And using the spiked high-heeled stilettos of their shoes as respective weapons.
* * *
Dracul Van Helsing went over to the top of the sword sticking out of the moss covered rock.
He grabbed it and easily pulled it out.
"Looks to be combination of ancient Celtic markings and Latin inscriptions on it," Dracul said, "I'll have to show this to my Uncle Fred. He's a retired Oxford History don."
Dracul walked along the path carrying the sword.
An old Cornwall pedler riding a bicycle and dragging a cartload of his wares behind him looked down on Dracul from the top of the hill.
The pedler was one of the few in the area who knew of the existence of that sword in the moss covered rock.
Astonished, the pedler said to himself, "That man has to be a descendent of Arthur, King of the Britons."
To be continued.
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