*Warning-Story contains sexual content, language and graphic images of violence.
Dracula's daughter Una Bella Morte is alive and well in modern Italy, but her father's legacy has been nearly been eradicated by the remaining coven's abandonment of I...
The young woman had become engrossed in the body of a child laying in a glass topped coffin. The corpse was so well preserved the infant could have been mistaken for being asleep the last eighty years.
Instead the child was entombed in a casket, frozen eternally in death. When she glanced up from the small corpse, she saw the tour group had disappeared. Now she recalled it had been the last tour of the day. The guide had rushed them through the catacombs eager to be home for his large, opulent family dinner.
Nervously, she glanced up and down the tunnels confused which way led out of subterranean crypt. She decided to follow the path which inclined slightly upwards. That must be the way out.
The figure was swift and silent, grabbing her from behind, pulling her back into a dark recess. Clamping a hand over her mouth, he roughly dragged her deeper into the heart of the underground crypts.
Her heart raced with fear as she desperately fought the assailant. When he finally stopped moving and she got a glimpse of him. It was worse than she thought. Seeing his eyes, shining with the strange light of a psychopath, she tried to scream as he pulled out a clean surgical blade.
"Come Tesoro, we play." He said it lovingly as if he were inviting her to a Boticelli Opera.
She didn't feel the first cut but it was long and deep expertly slicing her back while blood pooled on the dusty floor beneath her. The heavy guidebook she'd held in her hand fell beside the marbled statue of a woman prone on the ground.
"God, help me please!"
Her screams echoed through the catacombs unanswered, but not unheard. Behind them the white marbled statue seemed to suddenly inhale. The man held the blade caressing the woman's throat, slicing her windpipe he caused her to start drowning in her own blood. As he was preparing to slice off her breast there was a loud crack as the arm of the statue swung forward to push itself off the ground into an upright position. The psychopath screamed in terror. Dropping his knife he flung his victim's bloody limp body at the statue.
He heard the chorus of voices all around him now as his former victims spoke to him from the walls of the crypt. They tormented his remaining sanity. His eyes stayed glued to the marble as a dusty figure emerged from the statue's shell.
"Get back Diablo!" Pulling a crucifix from a chain hanging around his neck, he held it defensively in front of him. It was a trophy from one of his victims, but it was useless to him now.
Backed against the wall he watched, paralyzed, as the serpentine figure slowly bent, retrieving the knife from the ground, savoring the bloody blade.
He heard a dry, dusty laugh emanate from the white figure, covered with ancient dust.
"Fool, you've spilled the blood of an innocent at my feet. How could I say no to your invitation to dinner?"
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