Original Dracula Novel Novels & Stories

He took her hand, and the two of them stepped out, descending the stairs toward the courtyard. They stopped when they felt a presence. Ignatius’ flames grew. Even the wolves’ howls ceased. Between the tallest trees, a tall, dark silhouette emerged from the deepest shadows, walking slowly. It was him—Dracula. Vlad tightened his grip on Elena’s hand. "He’s here." The trees creaked louder around the estate. The witches stopped singing, and the Skull Clan fell momentarily silent. Vlad narrowed his eyes as he saw Dracula approaching the tree line. The tall, imposing silhouette of the Prince of Darkness stood out against the darkness. Around him, the wolf pack waited. One gesture would be enough f

Maybe both. The corridor opened into a massive hall. The ceiling stretched up so high it disappeared into darkness. Chandeliers hung like frozen tears, their crystals catching the dim light. At the far end, on a throne made of black stone and what looked suspiciously like bones, sat Dracula himself. He didn't look how I remembered. The count was taller, more refined. His hair was dark as midnight, pulled back from a face that could've been carved from marble. But it was his eyes that got you—ancient, cold, and entirely too knowing.

Something warm and soft was sprawled across my chest, breathing loudly, drooling slightly, and—worse—smelling faintly of my 1834 Château de Montclair. I blinked. Slowly. The absurdity of my resurrection sank in. I had not been awakened by destiny or ritual— but by a drunk woman wearing mismatched socks and the scent of stolen wine. She muttered in her sleep, “Five more minutes, Dracula.” …Dracula. Who in God’s forgotten name was Dracula? I moved. She stirred. Her lashes fluttered, and she blinked blearily up at me. Our eyes met. Her pupils dilated. Her body went still.

When you have chocolate, it doesn't keep the neighbors awake. 20. With chocolate, size doesn't matter. A Dracula Story Two nuns, Sister Marilyn and Sister Helen, are traveling through Europe in their car. They get to Transylvania and are stopped at a traffic light. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a diminutive Dracula jumps onto the hood of the car and hisses through the windshield. "Quick, quick!" shouts Sister Marilyn. "What shall we do?" "Turn the windshield wipers on. That will get rid of the abomination," says Sister Helen.

The doors from the dining room opened, and there walking with a deadly look, was the person who could kill any vampire and not think twice about doing it. The Count himself... Count Vladimir Dracula. Nolite mi- stop my dear Reversus es, amica mea-Your back my love

Lucas told Arden and I as he injected himself. For over a minute, nothing happened. As Scott breathed a loud sigh of relief, Lucas spit out some blood. In a matter of seconds, he turned gray. His fingers nails elongated, his fangs nore define than usual. And, he was writhing about in his blood vomit.

Oscar asked with a voice that hinted of reverence. “Dracula is the first to be made vampire from man,” Rowan explained. “He is not an original sent here from a different dimension so long ago.” “Do you know who that would be?” the underling asked with genuine curiosity. “To my knowledge, only one remains. His name is Darius,” Rowan informed him. Then, with a mixture of scoff and chuckle, he said, “One original vampire and one original lycan. Was this Goethe’s plan all along?”

I had napped for a brief period before I was back in the library, surrounded by books and papers and cold tea. Roxanna's writing was far more elegant than my own, a beautiful swirl of words, but I almost didn't need to read them to know what they say. It was like I'd written them myself. Except for one. A small piece of paper that was tucked away in an original copy of Dracula, a gift from Mina Harker, a friend to Roxanna, and Bram Stoker who'd written it after hearing the tale from Johnathan and Abe themselves over a feast, and too much wine.

They had to speak Romanian, right? Wait, Transylvania was in Romania, right? In the novel Count Dracula? Yeah, that was the case. I haven't read that book in years, but I remember the funky town name. Did that mean there were vampires in Romania? I mean, that'd be such a cliché, but were there? I've never met a vampire before. What if Xaveraq had connections with the vampires? He was keeping Callista with the werebears, did that mean he was keeping her in Romania with the vampires?

I let out another painful groan. "Damn!" Dracula muttered and sniffed the air, then he muttered, "Sweet." "Get me the fuck away from here!" I snapped at him, and I couldn't stop wobbling. Each step all the way got me a fresh cut, and my heels soon became wet with blood. If not that my dress was a short one, its whiteness could have been tainted red. Dracula didn't listen to what I was saying, he moved closer to me and got hold of one of my legs, "Stop wasting the food." He said and licked my wound.