Alisa landed next to the fallen figure in the grass. She was so horrified that she didn't even think about whether she could reverse the transformation on her own. The mist enveloped her, and she felt her body grow and stretch.
"Stay down!" Malcolm's voice reached her. He threw himself on top of her, pushing her face-first into the ground. Alisa spat out grass and dirt, but she didn't need to ask. She heard the bullets whizzing overhead.
"Francesco is hit. It looks bad. I don't think there's anything more to be done," Tammo's voice came through. The thrill of adventure had left them. Malcolm slid off her, and Alisa cautiously raised her head. She saw that Rowena had also reverted to her human form, while Joanne and Fernand flew off in the direction where they had last seen Donnchadh and Catriona. Alisa looked around.
"We need to get to the wall. It will give us cover. Come on, stay low to the ground. They shoot damn well!" Malcolm grabbed one of Francesco's limp arms, Luciano grabbed the other. On all fours, they crawled forward, dragging the heavy body behind them. Alisa stayed by Tammo's side. Finally, they reached the loosely stacked wall of stones and crouched behind it. The shooters in the monastery seemed to know where they were, as bullets kept hitting the top stones and then ricocheting off in various directions.
"I don't understand this!" Luciano gasped and tore open his jacket and shirt to inspect the wound. Alisa and Malcolm leaned over the massive chest, which had been pierced by a bullet in the vicinity of the heart. The edges were dark and it smelled burnt.
"I don't understand it," Luciano repeated. "I've seen gunshot wounds before, but this is strange. Even if it grazed his heart, he should still be awake."
Malcolm ran his hand over the wound. The Servient didn't stir. "Does anyone have a knife?"
Alisa handed him the small knife she carried with a few other useful items in a pouch around her hip. Fascinated, she watched as Malcolm extracted the bullet from the chest. He wiped the blood off and placed it on his open palm. It shimmered silver under the fading night sky. No one said anything until Malcolm cleared his throat.
"The silver has poisoned his heart. The bullet penetrated too close. He won't regenerate anymore. Look, his body is already starting to decay." He ran his hand over the chest. Dark dust like ashes trickled into the grass.
"These beasts will pay for this!" Luciano swore, his fist raised. "Francesco was a good Nosferas and a loyal Shadow."
Alisa clasped his arm. "Yes, we will do something, but think! If we try to storm the monastery, many of us will be destroyed. The stone is on the altar in the church, and I suspect it won't be guarded now in the heat of battle, but we have to somehow reach the monastery unscathed."
"Alright, then we'll have to come up with a distraction," said Luciano. There was a wild determination in his expression, unlike anything Alisa had ever seen in him. Then an idea struck her.
"Come here, all of you. I know how we could do it!" They huddled together, and Alisa explained her plan.
"So, you wait for the signal!" Alisa transformed back into a bat as if it were second nature and set off to find the two falcons. She flew over the whizzing bullets. Shots were still coming from the grove to the west. A group of Lycana crept up on the shooters in wolf form. Or were they werewolves? No, their aura wasn't warm enough. Alisa refocused her attention on the ruins of the monastery and on those she was searching for. She gathered her thoughts and called out to Ivy.
"Where are you?" The snippets of thoughts she received were like mist, but Alisa was sure they came from Ivy.
"We found Tara and Seymour." The image of a courtyard flanked by an arcade appeared, then a dark chamber. Alisa let it guide her. She kept close to the wall to avoid being noticed. Below her, she could see the werewolves and a young man with rifles. Then she spotted the peregrine falcon and flew to Franz Leopold.
"Where is Ivy?"
"Down in the chamber, talking to Tara and Seymour. They have silver bullets!"
"I know, Luciano's Shadow was hit and destroyed." Alisa briefed Franz Leopold on her plan.
"Risky, but it could work."
"It has to work if we want to reclaim the stone and force the werewolves to negotiate."
"That's not just risky, that's way too dangerous!" Ivy interjected, gliding in through one of the window openings. "What if they see through the ruse or leave a guard on the other side who then raises the alarm? We would be running into open fire!"
"And what do you suggest instead? Should we give up and let them have the stone?"
Alisa retorted a little angrily.
"No, we won't do that, but I think we need to make the plan a little safer," Ivy suggested.
"And how?" Franz Leopold asked.
"Through mist," Ivy said mysteriously. "Fly back and tell the others to launch a feigned attack from all sides - except from the east! Be careful not to venture too far! There must be no more casualties."
"What do you have in mind?" Alisa demanded to know.
"Mist will rise in the east, obscuring the werewolves' vision."
"How do you know that?" Alisa asked, confused.
"A powerful Druid is being held in the chamber beneath us!"
Alisa understood. "Alright, then I'll go tell the others. Good luck!"
"Good luck to you too! Stay away from silver blades and bullets!"
Alisa flew off, but immediately had to veer away as a bullet whizzed past her. The young human girl screamed.
"Damn bats!" a man's voice yelled. "I always think it must be one of the Lycana."
"Oh come on, they can't breach these walls," another replied.
"Still, kill every bat you see," the first one ordered. Quickly, Alisa flew away.
First, she briefed the group led by Donnchadh, then she informed the young vampires led by Pietro. As she approached the figures gathered around Francesco's decaying body, huddled behind the fieldstone wall, she noticed the first streak of mist being caught by the wind and blown eastward. Quickly, she resumed her human form and led the others in a wide arc further south. They made sure to be seen from the monastery, but kept enough distance to avoid being hit by bullets. Gunfire and the whizzing sound of bullets accompanied them. It was a dangerous game, as they didn't know exactly how far the bullets reached, yet they had to stay close enough to the monastery for the werewolves to notice them and consider them a worthwhile target. Soon, they discovered that not all weapons and shooters were equally good. They heard the bullets hitting the bushes on a nearby slope and darted into what they thought was a safe distance across a meadow, when suddenly another bullet flew straight at them. Malcolm pushed Alisa in the back, and she fell to her knees. The bullet whizzed over her but caught Malcolm in the upper arm. He cursed loudly.
"Come on, let's keep going. We can deal with this later!" he growled between clenched teeth. They retreated a little further and watched attentively the dark window openings of the monastery ruins.
"One of them is a damn good shot," Luciano said, now staying close to Alisa's side. Over in the monastery, a scream suddenly rang out. Men ran around excitedly. Shots rang out. The young vampires paused. Crouched, they remained still and scanned the area carefully. In the east, the mist had thickened. They listened. What had happened? Had the werewolves noticed the absence of the stone? Or had the friends been caught red-handed? Another shot rang out. Alisa flinched.
"She can just summon mist like that? She's a human!" Franz Leopold couldn't believe it.
"Yes, she is, but she's also a Druid with magical powers. How else could she have lived for so long? She's closer to nature than a human and can command the elements," Ivy explained.
Ivy and Franz Leopold sat on the ridge above the small cell where Tara and Seymour were being held.
"There! Look, it's starting!"
The two falcons stretched their necks until they could see the narrow window opening, from which dense fog now poured out. It flowed down the rough stone walls and spread out at the base of the wall in all directions until the west wind caught it and drove it eastward. The two waited until the fog reached the choir of the church nave, then they spread their wings and shot like arrows through the open lancet windows into the church. Quickly, they looked around. The stone was still on the altar and, as they had suspected, was not being guarded in the heat of battle.
"There's no need for both of us to revert," Ivy remarked.
"Yes, you're right. I'll take the stone," Franz Leopold said firmly.
"That's very considerate of you," Ivy replied, but he interrupted her.
"Yes, considerate to my family, who shouldn't be needlessly sacrificed in this battle that doesn't concern them. It's time! Perhaps you didn't notice, but the sky is already brightening."
Ivy didn't respond to his hurtful words. "I'll do it, because the weight of the stone won't affect me. I am strong and fast!" She caught his thoughts, as he shuddered at the memory of where this strength came from. With each passing year since her transformation into a vampire, her powers had increased - for nearly a hundred years now!
"If you'd like, you can fly above me and keep watch to see if the path is clear," Ivy said stiffly. She landed beside the altar, transformed quickly, and reached for the stone, which must have been more than two feet long and very heavy. Ivy lifted it up, pressing the cloch adhair to her chest, and jumped out of the window, running off. The falcon stayed above her in the air.
"Damn, what are they doing over there?" Mac Gaoth cursed to himself. He aimed, fired, and pulled the trigger.
"You hit one!" exclaimed the werewolf by his side, whom they called Ivarr.
"Yes, and yet they're not retreating. Instead, they're skulking around out there, divided into several groups. They're up to something, and I want to know what!" Mac Gaoth gave Nellie a sharp look as he loaded his gun and then looked for a new target.
Ivarr shrugged. "Whatever they're planning, they can't breach the monastery walls."
"Yes, it's always been like that," Mac Gaoth confirmed, but then he froze. "What's this?"
Ivarr followed his gaze along the wall. Dense mist billowed around the corner and slowly dissipated. "Now morning mist is coming too," grumbled the werewolf.
"I'll be damned if that's ordinary morning mist," cursed Mac Gaoth. "It's not coming from the lake!"
He grabbed his gun and ran to the other side of the monastery. To Nellie's disappointment, he ordered her to follow him. Ivarr came along and leaned out of a window next to Mac Gaoth, where only white billows could be seen.
"How unusual," murmured Ivarr.
Mac Gaoth leaned further out of the window. "Yes, unusual!" he snorted. "The mist is flowing out of that gun loop over there. That cursed Druid! Make it stop!"
"Me? But how do I go about it? I can't even touch her."
"Then kill Seymour if necessary. That will bring her to her senses."
"Seymour is one of us," Ivarr replied horrified, but fell silent under Mac Gaoth's gaze.
"He's a traitor like Peregrine, whom we brought to his rightful punishment. He deserved death! Seymour is no better. Or did he not conspire with the Lycana against us from the beginning? So do as I say! I need to check on the stone. Perhaps they found a lackey who can breach the monastery walls for them and are trying to steal the stone."
Ivarr hurried off as Mac Gaoth ran towards the church. "If you dawdle, I'll put a bullet in your gut!" he shouted at Nellie, who purposely lagged behind a little. She quickly caught up. In this mood, it was probably unwise to provoke him.
As Nellie burst through the arch behind the werewolf, she just caught sight of a silver shadow disappearing through the window. Her gaze fell on the empty altar. Mac Gaoth roared. It was not a human scream. It was the rage of a beast. Nellie staggered to the side. He called for the other werewolves. Hurried footsteps echoed through the monastery.
"Come with me!" Mac Gaoth roared, dragging Nellie towards a window. With a giant leap, he was outside. Nellie climbed over the railing and fell into the grass. She didn't pay attention to her scraped knee, scrambled to her feet, and ran after him. She saw Mac Gaoth lying face down in the grass. He didn't move anymore. His jacket was torn at the back. Blood oozed from the wound where the bullet had penetrated.
"I hit him right in the heart," Cowan said proudly. "Yes, it was a mistake to give me a gun. He underestimated us."
Nellie was silent. She focused on running and not stumbling. Behind them, they heard shots again, but the mist was too thick for the shooters to see them. Cowan made a turn to the right. They had to return to the grove where they had left her father and the others and flee together with them. If they were still there. If they were still alive!
Clutching the stone to her chest, Ivy ran in a wide arc to the south, where she would meet up with the other Lycana. Franz Leopold flew above her. She could only guess at her pursuers in the mist, but she knew they were still on her heels and wouldn't give up so easily. What if she led the werewolves with their guns straight to the Lycana?, Ivy wondered anxiously. Should she change the plan and take the stone somewhere else?
Suddenly she broke through the mist and ran out into the clear, already gray morning. Ivy veered around a bush. She couldn't take the direct path across the meadows, which offered no cover.
"They're soon reaching the edge of the fog field," Franz Leopold reported.
Ivy leaped over a wall with a huge stride and kept running. The werewolves behind her burst through the fog. Shouts rang out. They had spotted Ivy. The first shots whipped over the grass. Ivy quickened her steps even more, but the stone weighed heavier in her arms than she had ever imagined.
Suddenly she heard a rush in the air above her. She sensed Franz Leopold's muffled cry in her mind. Ivy darted behind a bush as a huge bird shot down like an arrow and landed beside her. Ivy hadn't known such a creature existed.
"Give me the stone," a voice echoed in her mind, one she knew. "You have freed the cloch adhair from the walls of the monastery, which I could not overcome, but now give it to me and get yourself to safety. I will turn everything for the better."
Ivy bowed and placed the stone on the ground before the giant griffin.
"Is such a bird really exist?" she asked curiously.
She felt him smile inwardly. "It is said. In a land far to the west beyond the sea, where the mountains spew fire and reach into the sky."
He closed his mighty claws around the stone. Ivy wasted no time and transformed back into a falcon, as she could already hear the voices of the approaching werewolves.
"There behind the bush she must be. Now we have the miserable thief!" Ivy quickly soared into the air and joined Franz Leopold. She heard the werewolves cry out in astonishment as the condor rose with powerful wing beats. By the time they recovered from their amazement, it was too late to shoot him down from the increasingly brightening sky.
Franz Leopold cursed. "Now we have lost him."
"No, I have handed him over to the only one who can bring this intricate situation to a peaceful end," she contradicted, as she flew with him towards the lakeshore, where the vampires from all groups were already gathered.
"Look, Seymour is running up from behind. Franz Leopold flew a small loop once more and watched the werewolves trudge back to the monastery, defeated."
Ivy directed her gaze at the white wolf, who now slowed his pace and turned to the figure who had just left the monastery. With the staff in her hand, head held high, Tara followed her son. Ivy landed and transformed back.
"Thank the gods! You have escaped them," Ivy greeted Tara and the wolf, embracing both.
The Druid shook her head. "No, not escaped. We have left. After Mac Gaoth fell and one of the younger members of the clan Áthair Faolchu freed himself from his bonds, there was no one left to stop us. But now hurry. You'll find shelter for the day in the abandoned stone huts over there. Seymour and I will guard your rest, and when the sun has set, we will all come together to make a new pact."
Ivy nodded. "Yes, Turlough will come and bring the stone. Have you seen him in that griffin form? Incredible!"
Tara smiled. "Yes, he is an unusual vampire and an equally extraordinary filí."
The night of Samhain arrived, and negotiations began. There were losses on both sides. Besides Francesco, the silver bullets had struck down two Lycana devastatingly, and four more were injured. Tara had removed the destructive bullets that morning and treated Malcolm's arm with her miraculous ointment, so he and the others would soon recover. Besides Mac Gaoth, the werewolves had lost three young clan members who had attacked a group of Lycana outside the monastery and were killed by them. Additionally, there were two dead humans in the grove by the shore. An older man and a woman. The others had let the vampires go. Even the girl and the boy whom Ivy and Franz Leopold had seen fleeing from the monastery had escaped.
Now, as midnight approached, everyone sat in a circle around the stone, which Turlough had placed on a stone slab. It was time to leave. The Lycana didn't want to spend another day cramped in the dilapidated stone huts by the shore. It was also time to resume their lessons. Some of the heirs groaned and cast suffering looks at each other.
Tara stepped forward with Ivy and Seymour into the center. They touched the stone and repeated the oath they had sworn ninety-nine years ago. Then Turlough handed the cloch adhair to Tara, so that the Druids could now ensure its protection.
"Where will Tara take him?" Alisa asked. "Back to the cave at the summit of the Twelve Bens?"
Ivy shook her head. "No, Áthair Faolchu will return there with the clan. The bogs of Connemara are their home. They have confirmed him as their leader, and I think peace will reign among them again. The stone will be taken to Inchagoill Island, where a young Druid will take on the honorable task of guarding the stone. Tara has already sent for her. The ship should arrive soon."
Indeed, two boats landed. The heirs already knew one of them. It was the old fisherman who had ferried them across the night before. The other, smaller boat brought a young woman ashore, whom the old man stared at with dreamy, moist eyes.
"Isleen, you have followed my call, as I expected," Tara greeted her with a warm voice, extending both hands to her.
The young woman bowed her head, her long blonde hair cascading. "Tamara Clíodhna, it is an honor to serve."
Tara handed her the sacred stone. "The cloch adhair will remain on Inchagoill. I will accompany the Lycana to Aughnanure, as some of them require my healing arts. Expect my arrival in a few days. I will bring Álainn back to you. She has served me well and deserves a period of rest."
Isleen bowed once more. She greeted the leader of the werewolves Áthair Faolchu and also Donnchadh and Catriona before returning to her small boat.
"Those who come in peaceful intentions are always welcome on Inchagoill," she said, bidding farewell to Ivy, Seymour, and finally Tara. Then the ship sailed away.
Donnchadh urged the heirs and their attendants to the fisherman's boat, which was too small for all the vampires. The Lycana would cross the lake as bats. Alisa and Franz Leopold insisted on accompanying Ivy, while Seymour took his place next to Luciano with a grim expression. The ship set sail and was carried westward by a fresh wind, although it had blown from the opposite direction just a few minutes ago. A swarm of bats circled the mast.
Arriving in Oughterard, they thanked the fisherman for his services and made their way to the castle.
"How do we get in?" Alisa asked. "Is the enchantment around the castle still effective? There's no one here who could open it for us."
Ivy nodded. "I hope Tara finds a solution quickly. The night is already advancing."
But the Druid shook her head anxiously. "I will see what I can do. There are established rituals that the last to leave the castle must follow if one wants to re-enter it uninvited later."
So they arrived at the closed castle gate. Donnchadh tried to open the gate, but neither he nor Catriona could manage it. Even the lord of the castle, Gareth, could not gain access. He turned to Tara for help. But then they suddenly heard a noise from inside. The crossbeam was lifted, and the gate swung open with a soft creak. The Lycana and their companions stared at the opening, into which, limping heavily, a figure stepped.
"Welcome back," she said in a hoarse voice.
"Áine!" Ivy hurried to her side. "You survived the explosion? Who would have thought!"
The vampire looked down at herself. "Survived? Yes, perhaps to fulfill one last task." She gave the gate a shove, swinging it wide open. Her charred hand clasped Ivy's completely healed one. "Release me! You know as well as I do that there is no salvation for me anymore. I can't regenerate anymore. I beg you." Her hand trembled as she handed Ivy a silver dagger.
Ivy accepted it and solemnly nodded. "If that's your wish, then we will comply."
"Yes," Áine agreed with a rough voice. "Let me return home to my two beloveds, to Robert and Peregrine. They await me in the Otherworld, where souls meet and refresh before being sent back to Earth."
He sat on a dry stone wall, gaze fixed on the distance. Franz Leopold didn't move, although he felt her approaching until she stood beside him. It took him a lot of strength not to look at her. Ivy settled beside him on the wall.
"I wanted to thank you. For fighting alongside me despite your resentment. Our victory is also your merit."
"My sword belongs to those who need it," he said gruffly. "Did you think I was a coward who shirks from danger?"
Ivy sighed. "No, that never crossed my mind. Your kind, the Dracas, are heroic, brave, and very proud."
Finally, he looked at her. "Yes, and one should not trample on that pride. Woe to those who mock it!"
"I did not mock you! I only gave in to my feelings. You can blame me for my weakness alone."
Franz Leopold made a grimace. "I only know your words, which you know how to use cleverly. You always keep the truth hidden."
Ivy scooted closer and looked him squarely in the eyes. "Thoughts do not lie, Leo. Read my mind and my heart. You will find no falsehood!"
Franz Leopold was tempted to turn away, but his mind was already reaching out to hers. For the first time, she had dropped the barrier that protected her thoughts. What he read both embarrassed and troubled him. Quickly, he withdrew. They sat in silence while he struggled for words.
"It must end here," he finally exclaimed. "I am fourteen, and you are a century old! And yet, you will always look like a delicate girl, while I become a man. Your wisdom, your experience, your strength is to me..."
"Unsettling?" Ivy nodded. "Yes, how could it be otherwise. I only wish that we continue to be friends who can trust each other."
Franz Leopold jumped off the wall and bowed before her. "My sword is yours as long as we dwell in this world."
"I don't know if it's your sword I hoped for," she said wistfully. Their hands found each other and held tightly.
Franz Leopold grinned. "Oh, don't say that. Who knows what lies ahead for us. Perhaps we'll spend the next year in the underground labyrinths of Paris with the Pyras, who seem even more distant from civilization than your werewolves here." He shuddered exaggeratedly.
"Yes, who knows what dangers might await us there!" Ivy chimed in with his lighthearted tone. Her smile was irresistible, and it pained him to look at her. But the bitterness had vanished from the pain. He returned her smile and then leaned over to kiss her fingers tenderly.
"With you by my side, all dangers are welcome," he said reluctantly, letting her go, turning away, and returning to the castle.
The wheels of the carriage rattled over Dublin's cobblestones. Finally, back in civilization! Bram Stoker felt a twinge of regret as the coachman's call sounded, and the vehicle stopped in front of the townhouse where his apartment was located. The journey to the West was over.
Bram leaned over to bid farewell to the lady, thanking her graciously for allowing him to accompany her on this exciting journey.
The lady inclined her head and smiled graciously. "It was a pleasure to travel in your company."
"Quite an enlightening expedition," said Bram, and the lady nodded in agreement, although she was surely thinking of something else.
"Sir?" The coachman had already unloaded his luggage and now held the door open for him. Bram waved goodbye once more and then stepped out. Oscar was already waiting for him. He had dismounted and now handed the reins of his horse to the coachman to bid farewell to his friend.
"I cannot tell you how much I look forward to my soft bed, a bathtub with hot water, a servant handing me towels, and of course, a good dinner!" sighed Oscar. "Yes, such a journey is enlightening and exhausting, and the hardships make one appreciate home comforts in a different light."
"Are you done with traveling for now?" Bram asked with a wink.
Oscar lowered his voice. "Attending conspiratorial meetings in the company of my mother? For a long time! I assure you. However, I will soon move to London. I think my literary endeavors have no real future here in Dublin. My place is in high society, and that is not found in Dublin!"
Bram suppressed a smile and nodded towards the carriage. "Does the lady already know that you will not return to Dublin now that your studies at Oxford are nearing an end?"
Oscar sighed. "No, but I will have to break it to her gently soon."
"Probably it's something akin to treason in her eyes," Bram speculated.
Oscar nodded with a tragic expression. "I fear so too. But she will have to get used to it if she doesn't want to stand in the way of her son's illustrious career."
Bram knew Oscar was serious. He was convinced of his talent and that he could only enrich high society! "And you, my friend, are you finally done with great voyages?"
"But no," Bram objected. "For a while, I will have to attend to my duties in London, but then I want to travel again."
"Where to? Back to Rome for the second time?"
Bram hesitated. "No, I think I'll go to Paris."
"Also good," nodded Oscar. "That could be quite worthwhile. The city of Bohemia. Painters and writers teetering between genius and drunken neglect. Yes, I imagine that to be exciting."
"I was thinking of something else," said Bram, giving his friend a quick glance. "The Paris Opera..."
"I didn't know you were an opera lover. But all right, Verdi has returned to Paris, and I also find this Jacques Offenbach quite amusing. His Orpheus is magnificent!"
"I'm not so much interested in the performances," Bram admitted a little embarrassed. "Haven't you heard the rumor about a dark shadow haunting the opera house? They call it 'the Phantom.'"
Oscar looked at his friend, astonished, then laughed and patted him on the back. "Oh Bram, you're a strange one. First, you hunt vampires in nightly graveyards, and now a phantom? If I find the time, I'll accompany you. That could be a lot of fun!"
He was still laughing as he swung back into the saddle and waved his hand in farewell. The carriage rolled away. The rider followed it.