The coffin lid opened. Alucard crinkled his nose. The succulent smell of iron was inebriating. He felt woozy as he sat up. Despite the pleasant aroma, his stomach growled in protest. He hadn’t been this sickened since the ‘70s when he downed a glass of red wine by accident. The disturbance he’d sensed earlier was a lot closer now.

Grumbling, he shuffled over to the fridge, but then decided against it. Breakfast didn’t feel as appealing as it used to. He threw on a white coat and marched up the stairs. The smell intensified. He pushed the door to the stairwell open. Alucard blinked a couple of times. His pupils dilated, and he felt the fangs come out.

Then he saw the hospital corridor. It looked like someone had filled a garden hose with blood and sprayed it over the walls. Opened carcasses, twisted and bent out of shape, littered the wet floor. The sheer amount of savagery and mutilation reminded him of Elizabeth Báthory’s dungeon – perhaps he had dismissed her too soon?

Slowly, he drifted toward the ER. Unidentifiable chunks of meat – nothing but butchery leftovers – discolored the usually white sheets of the hospital beds.

In fascination, Alucard looked at the red Jackson Pollock painting that had once been the scheduling whiteboard. Blood could make the most beautiful of patterns. It took everything in his power to not bend down and drink himself unruly on the red gold.

Nurse Beatrice nodded at him from the reception desk, but it wasn’t in greeting. Behind her, a brunette in an elegant dress rocked the nurse’s body with her mouth pressed against her neck, slurping loudly.

Alucard licked his lips and cleared his throat. A set of sickly yellow eyes appeared over a dainty chin and cheeks smeared with blood. What was left of Nurse Beatrice tumbled to the floor.

“Verona…” Alucard rumbled. “What have you done?”

“Isn’t this perfect for our reunion, Master?” A playful voice said behind him. “A red anniversary!”

Alucard turned around, his face warped by disgust. Clad in a bulbous Victorian-era dress, Marishka twirled a blood-soaked finger through her blonde locks and winked at him.

“Have you… lost your minds?” Alucard spat.

He felt Verona’s arm touching him from behind, and her tongue slithered into his ear.

“Aren’t you happy to see us, Master? We came all this way… We missed you so!”

“Who woke you up?” Alucard said, unable to keep his voice steady.

“You look parched – here, have a bite.” Marishka ran her bloody fingertips over his mouth.

Alucard caught her hand and twisted her wrist. The blonde vampire fell to her knees with a look of surprise and hurt in her yellow eyes.

“Who. Woke. You. Up? TELL ME!”

“I… I don’t remember.”

Verona walked her fingers down the length of Alucard’s arm and knelt next to her sister. “Please, Master. We meant no harm… We thought you’d be happy!”

They nodded in unison, giving him a hopeful look. The ancient vampire shook his head and let go of her arm. Then in a movement of blinding speed, his hand found the leg of a table and broke it off. The stake pierced Verona’s chest.

The brunette vampire still had the stupid smile on her face when Alucard decapitated her with a flick of his wrist. Her head tumbled off her shoulders before turning to dust with the rest of her body.

Marishka howled in terror, tears mixing with the blood on her cheeks. “W-why? We only wanted to please you…”

Alucard bent down and picked up the stake from the black and red liquid on the floor. He sighed deeply. The Marishka's yellow eyes widened as he put his hand on her shoulder, and then rammed the stake through her heart as well.

“P-please…” she gurgled.

“I have no use for disobedient snakes,” he said simply and took her head clean off with a sweep of his hand.

Her dust mixed with the already black and red gooey remains of her sister. A dark mask of pain and anger lingered on Alucard’s face as he stepped out of the hospital, leaving a trail of red footprints in his wake.