Drácula fue considerado verdaderamente malvado por la mayoría de quienes se atrevieron a hablar de él durante su prolongada vida. Era bien sabido que era más poderoso incluso que las historias contadas. En lo más profundo de la noche, en muchos pueblos cercanos al castillo, las sombras se abalanzaban sobre las casas. Luego, por la mañana, sus seres queridos desaparecieron. Esto continuó durante cientos de años hasta que surgió la furia generacional.

Todos los aldeanos prohibieron reunirse temprano en la mañana fuera del castillo. Trajeron hombres, mujeres, niños y hasta sus perros de granja. Todos empuñaban una antorcha o una horca, dispuestos a poner fin al terror.

Antes de llamar a la puerta, ésta se abrió lenta y misteriosamente. Los hombres señalaron y todos los perros entraron primero. Uno dudó por un momento.

“¡Dragos, vete!” ordenó uno de los aldeanos.

Dragos fue mimado toda su vida. Ahora esperaban que se pusiera en peligro. Caminó tranquilamente hacia la puerta, con la cola atrapada entre las piernas. Los aullidos de los otros perros lo dejaron justo donde estaba. Procedían de lo más profundo del castillo, por lo que los aldeanos asumieron que la entrada inmediata era segura.

Cientos de aldeanos entraron al castillo antes de que la puerta se cerrara de golpe y la oscuridad fuera recibida por rayos de sol a través de las grietas de la pared. Drácula descendió rápidamente sobre cada infiltrado, drenando cada gota de sangre en cuestión de segundos.

De espaldas a la puerta estaba Dragos, encogido de miedo. Drácula se dejó caer al suelo, transformándose de monstruo a hombre.

"No viniste aquí para esto". Le dio unas palmaditas a Dragos en la cabeza. "Se puede ir."

Drácula agitó un dedo hacia la puerta y ésta se abrió de par en par. Dragos se dio cuenta de que su dueño estaba entre los masacrados. Este nuevo hombre no parecía tan malo.

La cola de Dragos se levantó y se meneó cuando Drácula le dio la espalda.

"Se puede ir." repitió el vampiro.

Dragos rozó su cabeza contra la mano de Drácula, buscando ser una mascota. Drácula retrocedió y se transformó en algo monstruoso, cuya visión probablemente detendría el corazón de un hombre. Al crecer de tamaño, su cuerpo se movió hacia la luz del sol que entraba por la puerta abierta. Dragos notó la piel ardiendo y se movió para cerrar la puerta, mordiendo la manija y tirando.

Drácula volvió a su forma habitual y se quedó perplejo por un momento. Sin decir otra palabra al animal, voló hacia lo profundo del castillo, de regreso a descansar. Dragos lo siguió lentamente, olfateando y explorando el camino.

Durante los años siguientes, Dragos saludaría a Drácula cada vez que regresaba al castillo por la noche. Durante el día, exploraba y "protegía" a su nuevo amo.

Drácula bañaba a Dragos cada vez que su pelaje se volvía demasiado grotesco para mirarlo, y no lo disfrutaba. A menudo cerraba su propia puerta si Dragos hacía demasiado ruido para que él pudiera dormir.

En una noche particularmente fructífera para la alimentación del vampiro, algunos nuevos aldeanos decidieron preparar una emboscada. Entraron al castillo sabiendo que Drácula estaba lejos. Dragos corrió hacia la puerta al oír el sonido para encontrarlos. Saltó para proteger a su dueño, pero fue aplastado y cortado por una horca.

Drácula escuchó el grito de Dragos y soltó a su víctima, volando a casa lo más rápido posible. En un abrir y cerrar de ojos, se alejó de cuarenta aldeanos y se arrodilló junto a su perro.

Sólo una opción podría curarlo.

Drácula hundió sus dientes en el cuello quejumbroso de Dragos, sin estar seguro de si era posible.

Pasaron horas antes de que Dragos comenzara a sanar. Se levantó de donde yacía y rozó al aliviado Drácula.

Muchos años después, los aldeanos consiguieron armamento avanzado y tendieron una emboscada a Drácula mientras Dragos estaba en el patio. Entró al castillo escuchando la puerta cerrarse y no encontró nada más que la ropa de Drácula.

Dragos se acurrucó en la túnica de Drácula y esperó el regreso de su maestro, por mucho tiempo que tomara.

Sabía que siempre sería el perro de Drácula.

A time came when Dracula’s Dog grew bored of his painfully empty castle. Though he planned to return some day, he briskly exited through the front door, where he stopped to remember his first time entering. Visions of his master flooded his puppy mind. Tremendous sadness and loss filled his heart. Standing in the doorway, he growled. He growled at the castle. He growled at himself. He growled, hoping Dracula would just return.

Dracula’s Dog left his frustrations at the castle entryway. He marched down the hill and through the town below. It had modernized quite a bit since he first lived there. Many blood donors he attracted over the many years bowed as he strolled down the street, honoring the adorable dog they worshiped. Others hid, heeding the legends of the vampiric menaces of the castle.

Away from the town past an expansive field of fading green and stone ruins sat a poorly kept graveyard. Headstones crumbled away into piles of rubble below. Most of the etched lettering was gone, weathered away. Dracula’s Dog stepped up to each of the graves, feeling drawn to them. A bouquet of flowers left by a loved one had rolled away from the wind. Dracula’s Dog didn’t know where it belonged, so he spent some time giving a single flower to each plot.

Placing the final flower, Dracula’s dog heard a voice approaching, as well as slow, methodical drumming that was almost too low to be audible. He was curious, but instinctually ran to hide behind a mausoleum.

“This is it, Tumbo. Dracula’s grave. This is why I dragged you all the way here, big guy.” Dracula’s Dog viewed around the side of the exquisite stone, nearly barking in excitement hearing that this was where his master laid to rest. Two large men were looking at the mausoleum; one tall with a long trench coat and the other a monster of a human.

“This?” Tumbo probed, coming from before the Dracula’s fame had spread.

“I gotta be honest here. This is a major shot in the dark. I don’t know if this guy’s even in here. If he is, I’m not a hundred percent sure I could raise him, powerful as he was.” Tombs confessed.

Dracula’s Dog, listening in, leapt out from behind the mausoleum and flew towards Tombs. Neither of the men budged. Desperate to reunite with his master, he bit Tombs’ coat and pulled him towards the entrance.

“Hold on there, little guy.” Tombs chuckled and waved his mace at Dracula’s Dog, intending to allow him to speak. Dracula’s Dog felt a tickle, but no effect. “Yeah I didn’t think that would work.” Tombs laughed and pet the pup, being friendly along with analyzing the material around him.

Tombs’ brow hardened and he grabbed the robe, trying to pull it off of Dracula’s Dog, who in return vanished for a moment to bite the tall man in the neck. Tumbo beat his drum, blasting Dracula’s Dog and Tombs across the field, followed by the rubble from the floor and many headstones.

Dracula’s Dog raised from the floor and flew to Tumbo, biting him on the neck as well. Then, he backed off and stood at the mausoleum entry, now protecting it. He waited, growling as Tombs rejoined the standoff, hoping they would both be turned quickly. Tombs gave a signal for Tumbo to relax and spoke to Dracula’s Dog.

“That’s not going to work, little guy. He’s already dead, and me… I got somethin else goin on.” 

Dracula’s Dog calmed down and realized the two meant him no harm. When Tombs approached again, however, he backed away, protecting the robe he wore.

“Ahh, I won’t try to take that again. I just wanted to be certain it was authentic. And that it is.” Tombs put up both hands, showing the pup that he was not coming for the robe again. He passed by and put a hand against the mausoleum door. “Let’s see if we can wake your daddy.”

The mausoleum door opened slowly. Night seemed to fall that very moment, but within the darkness of the structure was nothing. Dracula’s Dog barked into the empty room angrily as Tumbo and Tombs backed away. They stood waiting for him for a while, each knowing the appearance of true pain.

“What do you say we take him with us?”

“The dog?” Tumbo asked.

“Yes, the dog. We came here for his master, but he’s got all his master’s powers. Even better, he doesn’t talk.”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, Tumbo. You hate talking.”

“He can’t chew my drumsticks.”

“Of course not, big guy.”

A few more minutes passed before Dracula’s Dog came walking out of the mausoleum.

“Hey, vampire dog. You wanna join up with us and kill a demon?”

Dracula’s Dog ignored the question and began walking away from the graveyard.

“You can chew on his drumsticks.” Tombs pointed to Tumbo’s bones and skulls. Dracula’s Dog raised from the ground and flew to Tumbo, immediately gnawing on one of his drumsticks.

“Good boy.”

“We go fight Beemon now?”

“Agh, not just yet big guy. Dracula’s out there. I got a sense about it.” Tombs reminded Tumbo about the target of their current mission. Then he turned to Dracula’s Dog as they walked down a dirt road, “You’d like that, huh?”

Dracula’s Dog grumbled softly, floating with one of Tumbo’s drumsticks held in his mouth proudly. He was frustrated at their progress. Months had gone by and several countries explored where Tombs had leads on the vampire king. Dracula’s Dog knew he couldn’t find Dracula alone, yet still felt held back by his companions who were bound to the ground. He then wondered whether that was even the case. 

“WOOF!” Dracula’s Dog handed Tumbo his drumstick, walked ahead and turned around to face T & T. “WOOF WOOF WOOF.”

“Chatty.” Tombs laughed dryly.

“What you want?” Tumbo asked, being the primary target of the barking.

Dracula’s Dog flew up and down quickly, then landed and walked slowly to demonstrate how sluggish their pace was as a unit. He flew so far in a few seconds that T & T couldn’t see him past the horizon. Then he returned in the next few seconds with blood on his fangs.

“I see.” Tombs translated for Tumbo. “He thinks we’re slow… and that you’re clumsy.”

“Clumsy!?” Tumbo readied a drumstick at his belly.

“Whoa whoa whoa.” Tombs put on a sincere face and continued to jest. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”

“Ergh.” Tumbo grunted and calmed down, realizing Tombs was kidding.

Dracula’s Dog kept barking, urging the two to figure out quicker transportation.

“Next stop is Big City. Good shot we find him there. Let’s do this Tumbo…” Tombs approached Tumbo and waved his mace. His body became a black dust that flew into the giant’s mouth and his eyes opened wide and flooded with black.

Tumbo opened his mouth and a screaming, screeching disembodied Tombs shouted from it. “Point your belly at the ground, big guy.”

Even Dracula’s Dog was a little scared by the voice. He wondered if Tombs could have given instructions beforehand to avoid it. Tumbo positioned his body so that his drum faced downwards.

Again, Tombs’ voice emerged in the most unsettling way possible. “Turn just a smidge left, and have at it.”

Tumbo did so, and the blast from his drum shot him so far he couldn’t see the ground anymore. He passed through clouds and looked straight into the upper atmosphere. As he began to descend, he saw the ocean beneath him, and land nowhere around. Dracula’s Dog caught up with ease and followed behind, but had to dodge a shockwave as Tumbo struck the drum once more.

After a few beats of the drum, Big City came into view. The famous heights of the Cloud Corridor were at Tumbo’s level as he passed by, heading into the suburbs on Tombs’ order. A tap of the drum allowed for a soft landing outside a middle class neighborhood. Dracula’s Dog landed beside and Tombs reformed outside of Tumbo’s body calmly.

“Never again.” demanded Tumbo.

“You think I wanna be inside you?” Tombs said, then pointed at Dracula’s Dog, smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Not my fault our friend here’s a freak.”

Dracula’s Dog had a sense that something was nearby. He was confident it was his master, his tail began to wag excitedly.

“Yeah, I feel it too. Relax a beat, this don’t feel right.” Tomb’s said, examining the area as they strolled.

On their journey, towns and suburbs usually would react to the sight of the trio. Tumbo was the main source of attention. Typically, people would grab their children and run inside, locking their doors and covering their windows, peeking through the peephole or uncovered sections of the windows where they felt they wouldn’t be seen.

In this neighborhood, people weren’t just not reacting negatively. They weren’t reacting at all. Everyone around was just staring at the wanderers. Parents and children stood as if they were playing outside, but they acted as if they weren’t even alive.

Then, Dracula’s Dog noticed something. On each person’s neck were two puncture wounds… bite marks. He knew with absolute certainty then that they were in the right place.

People began to walk towards the trio as they approached the last house on the street. It was just like all the others, though they knew it belonged to the one they sought. Dracula’s Dog flew between two neighbors that were closing in, leaving Tombs and Tumbo to fend for themselves as the carnage began.