Lilith, possessing Angela’s body, turned to the offending creature. How had she not noticed this? Lilith thought. Magick, power, raw and awaiting direction. This woman named Winters would be the perfect host body.

Preparing to act on her realizations, Lilith stopped; something was amiss. A scent was in the air, very familiar though tainted with age and made infirm. It bothered her that she couldn’t recognize it.

“Guten Morning, Herr Blake,” a grisly voice called from the doorway.

“Little help,” Blake screamed, writhing on the ground in the agony the tasers produced.

Lilith placed the scent; her favorite son, her perfect monstrocity. “Dracul?” she stated, she asked.

“Not quite,” the stranger replied. “His blood is flowing thru me. I be taking more than just his head in the end.”

“Who the…?” Simon started, before the gag was firmly replanted between his lips, silencing him.

“Ah, how rude. I being Herr Doktor Abraham Van Helsing,” the stranger said with a bow. “I am helping mein freund Blake now.”