“He is the Special One,” she exclaimed, tears streaming down her face.
Everyone dropped to their knees and clasped their hands together in prayer. Constantin did the same and looked on in awe when the blue aura extended to the child’s dead mother.
He watched the blue light surround the outline of the woman. It dazzled him and everyone else inside the tent. Moments later they saw the image of the dead woman rise from her body. She stood up and smiled at them all.
Her eyes drifted over to her newborn. She walked to the crib and leant over. Andrei giggled when his mother looked down on him. She kissed him lovingly on the cheek and whispered her goodbyes.
Tears now ran down the elder’s face too. The emotion of the moment was too much even for him. When the woman turned to face him he looked deep into her eyes. He saw the peace within her and felt it himself for just a moment.
“Watch over my baby,” she said. “Everything will one day depend on him.”
He nodded his head as a promise to her. Words were beyond him. The woman turned towards the light from outside. Closing her eyes she walked through the covering of the tent and into the dazzling brightness.
The light continued to shine even after she had gone. Constantin wiped his eyes and stood up. He walked to the crib and looked down on Andrei. The baby looked up at him and smiled, waving his arms and legs.
“I will watch over you, little one.”
Dracul went straight to his wife’s bedside. He knelt on the floor beside her and took her hand in his. She was Princess Cneajna of Moldavia, daughter of the ruling voivode, Alexandru the Good of the Musatin family. Despite her true name, he had always called her Maia. On the occasion they had met she had jokingly given that as her name. It had remained with them ever since.
He wiped the sweat from her brow and stroked her hair. “Are you well, Maia, my love?” he asked.
Maia looked thoroughly exhausted. She looked up at him and managed a smile to indicate all was well with her and the baby.
One of the midwives wrapped the infant in a towel. She turned towards Dracul. “You have a son, my Lord,” she smiled proudly. “A fine healthy baby boy.”
Outside a storm had descended on Sighisoara from nowhere. Rain lashed the rooftops over the city. Dracul noticed it when he heard the wind howling around the shutters. Rain had come when he had expected snow. He looked over when they vibrated against the storm. Lightning erupted throughout the heavens and stung his eyes.
He looked away again and collected his son from the midwife. Maia offered him another smile before he held his son aloft, laughing out loud with joy. “The boy will be named Vlad,” he decreed. “After his father.”
Maia smiled at him. “Vlad is a good name.”
When Rodrigul walked into the room, Dracul ushered him closer. “Come and look at my son,” he grinned. “He will bear his father’s name.”
His friend grinned also. “Then he will have big shoes to fill.”
“He is a Draculesti. He will fill them and more.”
The hooded figure materialised beside the bed. It towered a good eighteen inches over him. Dracul froze on the spot. He recoiled slightly when he caught the stench of the foulest breath.
The intruder reached towards the baby, extending a long bony finger. It moved the towel aside from the baby’s face to take a look. “Hmm,” it said in a low growl.
Dracul felt a sharp pain in his lower back, as his muscles spasmed. His breath caught in his throat when his chest tightened. Finally the figure brushed past him and disappeared again. He exhaled slowly, his body relaxing once more. Clutching his son to his chest he remembered the words of Valeria only a few hours before.
The prophecy had already rung true.
The author developed a fascination with Dracula from an early age. Like many others he was enthralled by Christopher Lee’s portrayal of him on the big screen. It was in his late teens that he discovered Dracula the man and the love affair began from there. An avid historian, he studied the period in which the real historical Vlad Dracula lived, 15th Century Balkan, for many years. It followed from there then that with his love of writing he would always choose Dracula as his subject.
Away from writing, the author has a wide range of interests. He has lived and travelled all over the world. He has a love for all things historical, with a particular fascination for medieval Europe. Anywhere he travels he likes to search out locations with an historical interest. He is well read and in recent times has a preference for the work of James Patterson, Carlos Luis Zafon, John Grisham, Jeffrey Archer and Stephen King. He also keeps his library well stocked with historical texts.
For a time he played scrabble on the international stage and represented Wales at the 2007 World Championship in Mumbai, India. He has a real love of sport, most notably football, rugby union, cricket and boxing. His great loves in the football world are Manchester United, Glasgow Celtic, Internazionale and lowly Luton Town. His sporting heroes include George Best, David Beckham, Roy Keane, Ian Botham and Muhammad Ali. His only other activities away from these are long country walks and time spent with friends and family.
Table of Contents
Copyright Info
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
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About the Author