The waning summer heat of August still carried well into the evening, sticking to the dusty cobblestone of the London streets even after the sun had left the sky. A breath of chilly autumn air swept in over the rooftops, riding the updraft into the city’s heart. People shuddered and closed their windows. Some pulled their blankets tighter; others put a log in the fireplace for the first time in months.

Hortensia, orchid, and amaranth perfumed the garden air with their sickly sweetness. A candle burned in the window on the upper floor of the massive villa. Alucard felt like a moth, helplessly reeled-in by the light. Jonathan Harker had told him about his fiancé’s best friend, but he had to see the golden hair, lean frame, and pale unblemished skin for himself. Desire had brought him out of his castle in Transylvania and taken him across Europe. He was far from his native land, but it felt like he had come home.

He whispered her name, and the breeze lifted his words to the windowsill and into the house, filling the sleeping mind of the girl on the bed. The midnight cape fluttered behind him as he stepped off the grass and floated upward, following her name on the gentle wind.

The girl in the bed shifted in her sleep, agitatedly throwing the bed sheets off her hot body. The summer night sweat caused the thin garment of her nightgown to cling to her back, outlining the crease of her dainty neck and the tender valley of her spine. Alucard’s fingers twitched, he could probably fit his hands around that tiny waist. Dizzy with hunger and lust, he stared at the spotless white skin of her arm and the bloodred nails on her fingers. Then girl flipped over and blonde hair pooled around her angelical face like a Gloria.

That fool, Harker, was a rotten storyteller who hadn’t at all been able to capture the true beauty of the young lady with his rudimentary descriptions.

“Lucy Westenra.” The name warmed his tongue like the blood from a freshly opened vein. “I’ll return for you, my dear. We shall dance together in the moonlight. I’ll set you free.”

The hinges of the coffin whined. Alucard sat up, soil tumbling off his chest. He hadn’t dreamt about Lucy in a long time, and the fresh memories tickled that old urge. He stepped out of the coffin, spilling earth over the concrete floor.

The bottommost level of the hospital had been intended as a second morgue, but after the renovation in the 80s the entire floor had been put out of commission and sealed off. It wasn’t as cozy as a crypt by any standard, but it had that clingy dampness that he liked, and it served his needs just like the plastic bags in the refrigerator.

After a quick shower, he picked out a clean white coat from the rack and watched the timer on the microwave tick down. It pinged, and he bit into the bag, feeling the sweet taste of iron on his tongue. He drained it in seconds still feeling a hollow emptiness within. He was a lot hungrier than usual. With a growl, he tossed the bag into the trash and slipped out of the abandoned basement. It didn’t at all compare to the real thing.

“Good evening, Doctor!” said Nurse Beatrice as he swept by the reception desk.

He ignored her. He was in a foul mood.

During his rounds, he noticed that intern, Jonathan, clumsily trying to stick a needle into the arm of a female patient. The woman wore an expression of pain and disbelief on her face, as she was repeatedly stabbed by the needle.

“Out of the way,” the doctor snarled and snatched the syringe away from the intern.

Blood dotted the fold of the patient’s arm where the needle had pricked her skin. He quickly found a vein and finished the procedure. Jonathan looked at him, with his eyebrows pulled up in surprise. Alucard thought he could see a hint of amusement too, playing in the corner of the boy's mouth.

“Sorry, I’ve never been good at that,” he said.

The doctor was just about to scold him for his incompetence when he felt a certain smell coming from the parking lot outside. He took a big whiff, and his face grew darker. He stomped out of the hospital into the icy autumn night.

The smell instantly intensified – fresh soil and Violet de Sicile. It was a scent that he knew all too well and that definitely didn't belong here.

Unable to contain his anger, his feet left the ground, and he sailed across the parking lot, his white coat beating behind him like bizarre wings. His gleaming red eyes picked up movement between the trees of the dark forest. He knew he had felt someone watching him the other night.