Yellow Ridge County was one of the myriads of sub-urban communities located in the south-eastern part of Nevada. The kind of place most maps forgot existed. Despite its population nearly over two thousand and ever-stretching borders, it sat quiet and largely unnoticed. Green poplars were common around the town with stray pinewood patches which gave the town a radical sub-urban look that felt stubbornly out of time. Yellow Ridge boasted of relative peace throughout the year and many acres of arable land which was harvested mainly for growing of wheat, barley and corn; the county's main source of income. As a result, farmsteads dotted the county like freckles, each one older than the people tending to them.
The town despite its affiliation for agriculture was an ever growing place which had been filled up with different franchise places over the years, some car dealerships and plans were already underway for the opening of an ultra-mart at the heart of the town. A place where everyone knew everyone, low crime rates and slow but steady development showed all the positive signs of a bright future for the locals and the county sheriff who was aiming for his next term in what he called years of "kickass progress".
At night, the town retreated into itself. A pub here, a bar there, yet nights in Yellow Ridge were mostly quiet. Excluding the honking of horns by obnoxious late night drivers rushing to grab a drink for the night, neighbors arguing under dim lights, the distant hoot of owls or the restless barking of dogs, everywhere would be somewhat quiet. This night however, something was... off.
The long row of street lights flickered once. Twice. Then died completely. Nothing moved. Well, nothing living at least. The wind crept through the empty streets, slowly and eerily as the night wore on. The silence that followed had weight, as if the night was holding its breath.
Then came the first shriek. Sharp. Sudden. Wrong. Another followed, and another, then another until the entire night was drowned in a storm of screaming wings. A black cloud of crows burst into the sky from nowhere, claiming responsibility for the cacophony . What were crows doing in this part of Nevada? And how come nobody had come out to see this display? Were they all sleeping?
The crows kept on shrieking unceremoniously either in glee, horror or perhaps a mixture of both, as the volume of the clamor steadily increased until the entire flock landed on the old maple tree right in front of the courthouse.
Just as abruptly as they had begun, they stopped and silence followed again. Something in the ground stirred. At first, it was so slight it was nearly unnoticeable, but then, a crack split the centre of the tarred road, widening with a violent groan as chunks of rocks tumbled into darkness. No doors opened. No footsteps rushed outside. The town was still. Too still.
The shaking gradually subsided, with only black mist drifting slowly from widening crevice. A single crow broke away from the flock, which were still perched majestically on the tree, a mass of shifting feathers and gleaming eyes watching this unnatural scene unfold. It hovered above the ground chattering softly, as if excited. From the mist, a shadow rose slowly. If anyone had been alive to see it, they might've mistaken it for a ghost. But nothing in Yellow Ridge was alive...not anymore.
The shadow glided towards the shopping district and stopped. In an instant, it shifted, and standing where it had been a moment ago was a middle aged man about six feet tall. His appearance showed him to be Latino with flawlessly toned and refined skin. His black hair laid slick on his head, his nose pointed with a proper cheek bone structure and other facial traits which made his handsomeness simply breathtaking. He was dressed in a long black overcoat, shielding his fingers which were placed in its pockets. He took a deep breath before opening his eyes at last to reveal nothing but endless and cold darkness. He turned his head from side to side, smiling faintly and appearing to struggle taking into view what he saw. The crow at his feet shimmered, feathers stretching and bones reshaping until a chubby mid-Eastern man wearing a black turban and leather suit stood in its place.
"Master," he whispered. "It has been too long. I am overjoyed to finally see you again".
His 'master' who finally acknowledged his presence looked straightly at him and replied in a raspy voice older than time, "How many years...no...centuries has it been, Raja?"
"Seven centuries, master," Raja answered, bowing his head sadly.
"Mmm…" The man inhaled deeply. "Raja?"
"Yes master".
"This place…it seems different".
"Since your imprisonment, humanity has advanced and developed just as we knew they would. I dare say they even surpassed our expectations."
"Is that so?"
"Yes m'lord. Many events and technological advancements have taken place over time and have shaped the human race".
"Even the air smells different," he said murmured. "And yet, my plan remains the same."
He walked a short distance, stopped and screamed a single name, the sound cracking the night like thunder, "DRACULA!"
Raja rushed to his side. "Are you alright master?"
"Raja, you've done well," he replied softly. "I'm fine, but my power is weakened considerably".
"Please master, use this town to regain some of your strength".
"Very well. Their lives will do. I will enter hyper sleep soon to learn all that transpired in my absence".
"Yes master".
"In the meantime, proceed with the arrangements as planned".
"I will my lord".
"Seven hundred years then and now could not stop me. Nothing will. Proceed with care and use my toys as you see fit".
"Yes master".
"This may be the first stage but it's the most delicate. We can't fail".
"May my corpse rotten in the darkest of hells should I fail master!"
"Go my obedient servant".
"Yes master". Raja dissolved into feathers, returning to his crow form instantly, leading the flock which had been watching the unearthly conversation out of Yellow Ridge, shrieking with wild purpose as they disappeared deep into the night.
"And so begins the end," the shadow man said ominously touching the ground and spreading his dark magic into every home, every street, every sleeping soul in Yellow Ridge.
"In a town of almost two thousand," he whispered, "not one of them would live to see the end of this story.
He paused, a smile creeping over his lips.
"You however will".