They had been tracking the shadow for weeks—a trail of exsanguinated livestock and villages silenced by a terror that left no tracks. This wasn't Dracula; this was something more feral, a remnant of the Old World that even the Order of St. Dumas whispered about in hushed tones.
Van Helsing didn't look back. He was watching the way the mist swirled in the valley below. It wasn't moving with the wind; it was pulsing, like a slow, grey lung. He knew that rhythm. It was the breath of something ancient, something that didn't need to breathe at all. "We don't have three days," Van Helsing said. Van Helsing - Miles and Miles ...
"It’s him," Van Helsing corrected, drawing a silver-edged kukri. "And he’s tired of running." They had been tracking the shadow for weeks—a
Should we focus the next chapter on the or follow their desperate escape through the pass? Van Helsing didn't look back
"Miles and miles," he muttered, his voice a gravelly rasp. "It’s always miles and miles."
