Dracula was regarded as truly evil by the majority of those who dared to speak of him during his extended life. It was well known that he was more powerful than even the stories told. In the deepest of night, in many villages near the castle, shadows would swoop into the homes. Then, in the morning, loved ones were missing. Hundreds of years this continued until generational fury arose.

 

The villagers all banned together early in the morning outside the castle. They brought men, women, children and even their farm dogs. Everyone held a torch or a pitchfork, prepared to put an end to the terror.

Before knocking on the door, it opened slowly and eerily. The men pointed and all the dogs entered first. One was hesitant for a moment. 

“Dragos, go!” commanded one of the villagers.

Dragos was pampered his entire life. Now, they expected him to put himself in danger. He sauntered forth to the door, tail stuck between his legs. The yelps of the other dogs stuck him right where he was. They were from deep within the castle, so the villagers assumed the immediate entryway was secure.

Hundreds of villagers entered the castle before the door slammed shut and darkness was greeted by slivers of sun through cracks in the wall. Dracula descended rapidly on each infiltrator, draining them of every drop of blood within seconds.

 

Backed against the door was Dragos, cowering. Dracula lowered himself to the floor, transforming back from monster to man.

“You did not come here for this.” he patted Dragos on the head. “You can go.”

Dracula waved a finger at the door and it swung wide. Dragos realized his owner was among those slaughtered. This new man didn’t seem so bad.

Dragos’ tail lifted and wagged as Dracula’s back was turned.

“You can go.” repeated the vampire.

Dragos brushed his head against Dracula’s hand, looking to be pet. Dracula backed away and transformed into something monstrous, the sight of which would likely stop a man’s heart. Growing in size, his body moved into the sunlight brought in by the open door. Dragos noticed the burning skin and moved to shut the door, biting the handle and pulling.

Dracula returned to his usual form and stood for a moment, perplexed. Without another word to the animal, he flew deep into the castle, back to rest. Dragos followed slowly, sniffing and exploring along the way.

Over the next few years, Dragos would greet Dracula every time he returned to the castle at night. During the day, he would explore and ‘protect’ his new master.

Dracula would bathe Dragos whenever his fur grew too grotesque to look at, and he didn’t enjoy it. He would often close his own door if Dragos was too loud for him to sleep.

On a particularly fruitful night for the vampire’s feeding, some new villagers decided to stage an ambush. They entered the castle, knowing Dracula was away. Dragos ran to the door at the sound to find them. He leapt to protect his owner, but was swatted away and sliced by a pitchfork. 

Dracula heard the yelp of Dragos and released his victim, flying home as quickly as possible. In a blink, he departed forty villagers and knelt beside his dog.

Only one option could make him whole.

Dracula sunk his teeth into Dragos’ whimpering neck, unsure whether it was even possible.

Hours passed before Dragos began to heal. He popped up from where he lay and brushed up against the relieved Dracula.

 

Many years later, the villagers got advanced weaponry and ambushed Dracula while Dragos was in the yard. He entered the castle hearing the door shut, and found nothing but Dracula’s clothing.

Dragos curled up into Dracula’s robe and awaited his master’s return, however long it would take.

He knew he would always be Dracula’s Dog.

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.