Dracula: Hearts of Fire (Dracula Heart's) (8 page)

  
“You can’t tell anyone
it could be dangerous.”

    “Mother, you already said that.”
When
Jenny s
tood up to give her the book
a bullet went right through her.

    “Jenny!”

CHAPTER FIVE

  
T
HE SCENT OF BOILING BLOOD
was on the air.

  
Deep in the boreal forest of Quebec it snowed black snowflakes
.
The large flakes were surreal as they
descended
being
both beautiful and foreboding
, like tiny gentle kites that had lost their strings
.
The small clumps of black snow
took their places on the trees, ground and on a nearby crow.
It was too cold to snow but it did nonetheless.
Even th
e wind blew peculiarly from
different directions, making the flakes dance oddly at times
, being pushed and pulled
.
The
crow zeroed in on a particular flake above the trees and followed it
as it fell
, finally taking a bite out of it as it neared. The bird
screeched and sounded confuse
d, or was it
in some sort of distress?
Was it struggling for its breath
as its head bobbed up and down
?

  
The clouds over that small section of forest were also different shades of black,
as if its colors could onl
y show different hues
of darkness
.
A stranger sight had never been observed by the animals in the area.
It looked like
the world was coming to an end with the black shiny
snowflakes falling.
In the sky t
wo gloomy clouds had come together and slowly started to swirl.
In less than a minute the clouds had stopped their rotation, as if frozen in the sky.

   
The Ojibwe style wigwam made the forest look as though it had gone back in time.
Even though it was summer it snowed, and about two inches of the cold black stuff covered the round domed shelter
and the surrounding area
.
The abnormal flakes
clung to trees and branches,
but b
eyond
the spelled area it
was a w
arm summer day;
however inside that circle of paranormal energy
it
was as cold as the arctic.
Insects froze and perished as if the sea
son had abruptly come to an end, tiny legs wiggled their last movements of life as their
last bits of
energy was pulled into the air.
The trees felt betrayed with the unexpected departure of summer.

    “Oooooohhsaa!”
Achak’s breath turned to
black mist in the
cold
atmosphere
as he stood with his palms
toward the sky
.
The wizard’s concentration was emotional.
He had two small brown leather
pouches near his waist, one below
each shoulder. Out of one he took dried vampire blood, and out of the other he took
sulphur and salt
that had been enchanted
. When the ingredients were rubbed together as if he was warming his hands, combined with an incantation, black lightening flashed out of the sky and electrified the air.
The hair stood up on his arms and legs and on the back of his neck.
He pushed out large amounts of air from his lungs, sounding like the wind in a storm; he sucked in air and again pushed it out slow and noisily.
This time Achak
was up to nothing good.
He sought more energy, more fire, and more destructive power.
One day Achak
wanted to be able to
challenge Dracula and destroy him.
He was never happier than when he was up to no good.

    The
crow fell dead from high
up in the tree in mid caw;
it tumbled down
hitting several branches and balanced on a branch
of the fir tree
for several seconds before an invisible hand
knocked it off, enabling the dead bird to continue its fall. When the warm-blooded vertebrate hit the forest floor it turned to dust
.
The air
picked up in that one small area and blew the bird’s
remains
away, as if adding insult to injury.
Afterward i
t was
almost
as if the American crow had never existed.

    Achak
’s red-beaded headband
had become wet with perspiration.
He
was a large
native
man that worked with both good and evil magic
, but lately his
nasty side was pushing away
all
remnants of
the
good that he
once
had in him. His destroyer side was enjoying the increase in his p
ower, overshadowing all the virtuous
deeds that he had done in the past. People evolved and unfortunately his changing was not for the good of mankind. His inner demon had force
d the good in him to give way like
an innocent child
pushed around
by the bully in the schoolyard.
The more he learned of the dark ways, the more sinister ideas formed.
Now only evil deeds satisfied him.

    Several feet from the wigwam was a vi
gorous fire, and over it a large black
pot with the blood of several animals boiling in it, rabbit, deer, bobcat and crow. The bottom of the
old clay
pot was just starting to burn, adding to its nasty odour and
it was
all part of the enchantment. Until that burning had commenced, it had been possible for the victim to escape.
But the scorched blood had special binding properties that took to the air and followed the path of the spell.
It now followed the invisible road in the sky.
The scent had already found it
s
victim, who was unable to fight its alluring qualities, having no choice but to seek out its source.
An offer of ten million dollars
would not have dissuaded him from pursuing it.

   A large black raven up in a coniferous tree looked puzzled as it was being covered by t
he black snow; it shook
off the black stuff with attitude. The bird looked down at Achak in his buffalo
hide as he walked peculiarly around the wigwam, with three steps forward and two steps back.
The native
made disturbing f
aces into the air and toward
the trees.
Evil looking faces that would scare almost anyone; faces that morphed into ugliness that could not be measured.
Achak
was entranced in his spel
l and could sense that it
was working. His victim was now less than a mile away and had no choice at all but to co
ntinue his approach to the area.

    Booker was a red sheriff from
Newport Vermont and found himself captured by the spell.
He was a tall blond
Canadian that had been called down
to New Hampshire to help battle a small group of
vampires that had been defiant until the end
.
His
brown
trench coat was getting torn from his repeated bumping into trees as he blurred for short distances through the woods.
Booker
had been the sheriff closest to the en
chantment and now
he was
pushing through the forest heading for that captivating scent
. His mind was fuzzy, with only brief moments of lucidity.
Booker passed a black bear that was scratchi
ng its back against a tree;
the animal was puzzled by the visible black aura that surrounded the sheriff but otherwise ignored him.
An attack from the bear could have possibly taken him out of the spell but unfortunately it didn’t happen. The bear wanted no part of the black stench.
In fact it burned the
bear’s nose and made him sneeze repeatedly.

    Achak watched as Booker entered
the area of the powerful spell; he
walked to
the wigwam and stood motionless unable to move.
He was as a puppet with no control over his own body.
Booker appeared hypnotized willingly awaiting
his fate.
The blood wizard walked around
him and smiled as the black snowflakes continued to fall.
Achak exposed his fangs
biting
into the sheriff’s neck; he drained all his blood
in less than a minute
, also sucking up
the extra power that Dracu
la had placed into him, thus taking
his life. The sheriff’s bones collapsed to the forest floor into the black snow.

    Achak enjoyed the extra energy that now flowed through him, whether it was factual or not he certainly felt like a more powerful sorcerer.