The Countess was still reeling from night's events when the lights went out again. It may not have been a power cut this time, but she still felt incredible unease. After a shape changer and a woman who could swap heads at will, she couldn't imagine what the house would throw at them next. She hoped the lawyer wouldn't take too long to relieve himself.
That hope was dashed when she had to listen to liquid splashing into the glass for the next minute. It stopped, and she heard the clinking of another glass being picked up. Then the sound of urination continued.
"Damn it, man, how big is your bladder?" she heard Dr. West call out.
"I drank like five glasses of wine!" Ernie answered.
The sound of him making his toilet eventually stopped. She expected the lights to come back on right after. But they didn't.
BLAM!
Panicked voices cried out in reaction to the gunshot. More plates and glasses smashed to the floor. The Countess felt someone brush past her. Then the lights finally came back on.
Everyone was standing in the same position as before. Except one. Long John Silver lay slumped on the floor, a bullet hole in his forehead.
"Oh for Cthulhu's sake!" exclaimed West. "Who killed him?"
They all turned to look at Ernie. He gave a nervous chuckle and held up two glasses filled to the brim with yellow-brown fluid. "How the hell could I have done it? My damn hands were full."
"Who else had a motive?" she asked.
"What motive? I got nothing against pirates. Shit, maybe he killed himself. He was a righty. Probably wasn't looking forward to having to do you know what with a hook for a hand."
"Don't try to distract us with this ridiculous story," Dr. West said. "This is the second time the lights have gone out while you've been in the room and someone has wound up dead."
"We were all in the room, Herb," replied Ernie. "You blaming me for the power cut earlier now?"
Dracula, who had been unusually quiet, grunted in anger and walked towards the door.
"Now where are you going?" asked Dr. West.
"I am going to get out of here if I have to tear the walls apart with my bare hands!" He beckoned his wife. "Come, let us depart freely and of our own will."
She didn't move. "My love, perhaps we should stay until we resolve this mystery."
"Yes, you must both stay," said Dr. West. "Your bloodsucking husband is just as much a suspect as the lawyer. He hated the pirate from the moment they met! Who else could have killed him so quickly in the dark?"
Dracula roared and swept the few remaining plates and glasses off the table with a crash. "How dare you speak to me that way, you foolish mortal! You fail to comprehend that if we stay here, we will all die!"
Ernie stepped between the two men, who were staring each other down like angry bulls. "Dracula, babe. You need to chillax."
The Count moved so fast he was a blur. He grabbed Ernie around the throat and lifted him off the ground.
Ernie's feet kicked and his face started to turn blue as he struggled for air.
"Let him go," ordered Dr. West.
The Countess put a hand on her husband's elbow. "My love, do as he says. This will solve nothing."
"This man must die!" Dracula bellowed, spit flying from his lips. "He is the cause of all of this!"
"We don't know that!"
Ernie tried to mouth some words, but all that came out were gasps. Dracula tightened his grip.
Out of the corner of her eye, the Countess saw Dr. West pick up something from the floor over by Captain Silver. He came up behind Dracula, raising the object.
"You leave me no choice!" the doctor cried.
Too late, she saw what he held—the broken remains of Silver's wooden crutch, which ended in a point. West thrust the stake through Dracula's back, right where his heart lay.
"No!" screamed the Countess.
He immediately dropped Ernie, who coughed and spluttered on the floor. Dracula reached behind him, trying in vain to pull the stake from his back. He gave a croak and then fell on his back. The impact pushed the front end of the wood up so it protruded through his chest. The Countess gasped as her husband's blood splattered on her face.
She dropped to the floor beside him and placed her hands on the bloody point. "I can pull this out. I can save you."
He reached up to stroke her cheek, his eyes growing dim. Already his hair had turned white again and his skin became lined.
"Dearest Mina, please stop. I no longer have the strength to survive this. My time has come and gone." He cocked his head, as if hearing some far off sound. "Listen to them . . . the children of the night . . . what music they make."
His body became limp as the undead spirit departed it. The Countess held his hand to her face as her bloody tears poured down. His hand cracked and then crumbled into dust. The rest of his body soon followed until all that was left was powder and rags. She let the last of the dust fall through her fingers, mixing with her red teardrops.
After some time Ernie approached her. "His hands were so hairy. How could you stand it?"
She jerked her head round and snarled at him, her fangs extending.
"Sorry, too soon?" Ernie said. He rubbed his bruised throat
The Countess stood up, wiping the blood from her face. She licked her fingers and felt hunger pangs. It had been too long since she had fed. She sensed Dr. West approach her with his hand outstretched, whether to console her or attack her she was not sure. She turned and grabbed him around the neck. He whimpered as she moved her fangs towards her throat.
"Forgive me," he said. "I thought he was the one hunting us. I see now I was wrong. I will make amends however I can, but please don't kill me."
The Countess gripped him for a moment longer. Then she allowed her fangs to retract and stepped away. "I would kill you both right now, but we still have more pressing concerns."
"If only we knew who killed the butler," Dr. West mused. "That was the start of all this. Whoever killed him knew the fear and panic would start us tearing each other apart like hungry wolves."
"Then it is a pity the butler is lost to us beyond the veil through which even the undead cannot pass," she said.
A strange look came over Dr. West's face, a blend of excitement and trepidation. "That's not entirely true."
He reached under the table where his doctor's bag still lay. He rummaged around inside it, talking as he searched. "I have recently created something that may give us the answers we seek. I call it . . . my reanimating solution."
He pulled a small object out of his bag. The Countess stared at a syringe filled with viscous liquid.
"What does it do?" she asked.
"It reanimates. The dead."
Ernie laughed. "And you didn't think this was worth mentioning before now?"
"I only have enough for one subject. And I've never tested it on humans."
She thought for a moment. "Do it. I curse you for what happened to my husband, but this will go some small way to making amends. It is the only way we'll know if the danger is over."
Ernie shook his head. "Y'all are crazy. What if we wind up with an angry zombie running around the place?"
"I can handle a mere zombie," she said. She nodded at West.
Dr. West crouched down beside the butler's body. He took the stopper off the needle. Taking a deep breath, he injected the solution into the corpse's neck. He took a stopwatch out of his pocket and studied it silently. A minute passed.
"I don't think it's going to work," said Ernie.
"Give it time!" snapped Dr. West. "The first experiment on an animal took—"
The butler suddenly sat bolt upright and let out a bloodcurdling scream. Ernie jumped and the doctor backed away. The butler's face went slack. He remained in the same position, taking long, ragged breaths.
"Barrymore?" Dr. West asked. "Can you hear me?"
The butler let out a long, wheezing sigh. His eyes were closed. "Yessss . . . I can hear you."
"Who killed you? Do you remember?"
"I remember . . . pushed me out the door . . . smashed my head with a candlestick . . . stabbed me in the neck . . . with a fork."
"Who, man? Did you see their face?"
"It was dark . . . but I recognized him."
"Him? Who was it, damn it?!"
The butler's eyelids sprang open like blinds rolling up. He raised a hand jerkily, moving like a puppet. He pointed a finger at Ernie.
Ernie looked surprised for a moment and then slumped his shoulders in resignation. "Yeah . . . about that."
The butler jumped to his feet. He ran at the nearest person, who happened to be Dr. West. The butler threw him against the wall with inhuman strength.
"Help me!" the doctor screamed. "The solution has destroyed his mind!"
His screams increased in volume as the zombie butler pushed him down into the floor. He poked his fingers into West's stomach, tearing the flesh.
Ernie backed away from the zombie, then looked at the Countess. "You gonna do something?"
She sighed and slowly walked over to the wall. She took down one of the antique swords that was hanging there. It had a small handle and a long, gleaming blade. She swung it a few times to test the weight. Perfect.
The Countess crept up behind the undead servant and his victim, sword raised. "Oh, butler?"
The butler turned to look at her with mindless eyes. She swung the sword. The butler's head came off in one clean strike. It rolled under the table and the no longer reanimated body fell on its side.
Dr. West felt at the gaping hole in his stomach, sobbing. "How bad is it?"
Ernie peered down at him. He grimaced, then gave a fake smile. "Aww, just needs a little peroxide. You'll be fine."
The Countess pointed her sword at Ernie. Blood dripped from the tip, pattering on the wooden floor. "Traitor! You were behind all this."
Ernie held up his hands in a gesture of peace. "No, not actually. I had no idea what was going on here until the butler told us. But then I knew the only way I could survive was to kill y'all, or make y'all kill each other. The fact that I can profit from that is just a bonus."
"Profit?" West asked. The color drained from his face as blood pooled around him. "How?"
"Good question, Herb." Ernie tapped his forehead. "Intellectual property." He smiled at their baffled looks. "You see y'all are in the public domain. Nobody owns you guys. But the butler said if we die here, the house wipes all trace of us from existence. That means I'll be the only one who knows about y'all, because the survivor keeps his memories. I can walk out of here and go back home with the copyright on all your stories. Dracula alone will make me millions."
The Countess stared at him in disbelief. "You would let us all die just to own a copyright?"
"Welcome to the modern world." Ernie rubbed his chin. "Tell you what, babe. I like you. You're good with a sword and you never get old. I'll make you a deal. You help me write the stories and I'll let you live. Then we can both make a nice profit. What do you say?"
She looked over at West. He gave one final breath and then his eyes closed. He fell sideways, his face making a splat as it hit the bloody floor. "I have a better idea," she said, turning back to Ernie. "I kill you and let these characters rest in peace."
Ernie shrugged. "Well, that's one way to go."
She jabbed the sword through his heart in one swift motion. The lawyer was dead before he hit the floor. She threw the sword down with a clang and sat at the table. She looked at the pool of blood on the floor and felt her stomach rumble.
Why waste it?
The Countess pulled the hem of her skirt up and knelt down on the floor. She greedily lapped the blood up. She might have carried on until the puddle was completely drained if the door hadn't opened.
A black-suited man with a thin face, high-domed forehead and gray hair entered. He smiled as she quickly got to her feet, licking the blood from her lips.
"Good evening," he said in a refined yet commanding voice. "Sorry I'm a little late. I'm Professor James Moriarty."
The Countess was speechless as the stranger surveyed the carnage in the room.
"Did I miss anything?"