The damp cold of London was nothing like the dry ice of Transylvania or the cutting breeze of New York. It was a chill that seeped into the bones, heavy with soot, rain, and centuries of untold stories.
Alice stepped off the private airstrip north of the city, silently thanking Ruby for her flawless logistics. She adjusted the collar of her black coat, shielding herself from the fine drizzle.
Her eyes — once brown and full of life — were now dark, vigilant wells, scanning the perimeter with the precision of a soldier in hostile territory.
She wasn't there for sightseeing.
She was there to collect a debt from fate.
Following the coordinates Rose had given her, Alice descended into London's underworld.
She avoided the postcards and landmarks, slipping instead into the alleys of the East End and the abandoned docks where mortal law no longer applied.
The search was not easy. Beth was a legend, and legends didn't like to be found. Alice spent two nights interrogating informants, following traces of ancient magic, and intimidating lesser vampires who dared to cross her path.
On the third night, a real obstacle appeared.
In a narrow alley near Whitechapel, five figures blocked her way. Local vampires, dressed in leather jackets and chains, radiating the arrogance of those who ruled a small territory.
"You're far from home, foreigner," said the leader — a tall man with messy blond hair and gleaming fangs under the yellow streetlight. "This city has an owner. And you didn't pay the toll."
Alice stopped. She felt no fear. Only impatience.
"I'm not here to negotiate with guard dogs.
I'm looking for a woman. Beth. Tell me where she is, and you get to keep existing."
The group laughed.
"Beth?" The leader mocked, pulling out a silver knife. "No one gets near her without going through us first. Looks like we'll have to teach you some manners."
They attacked together.
It was a mistake.
Alice didn't fight like a student running from trouble. She fought like someone who had already lost her soul.
She slipped past the first strike with liquid grace, grabbed the attacker's arm, and used his own momentum to slam him into the brick wall. The crack of breaking bones echoed sharply.
The second vampire tried to flank her, but Alice spun, her claws tearing through his throat before he could scream.
The leader, watching his men fall in seconds, tried to retreat — but Alice was already on him. She grabbed his jacket and slammed him against the damp wall, lifting him off the ground.
"I don't have time," Alice growled, her face inches from his, eyes glowing red.
With her free hand, she drove her claws into his thigh, piercing flesh and muscle. He howled in pain.
"Where. Is. She?"
"I don't know! I swear!" he cried, blood streaming down his leg.
Alice twisted her claws inside the wound.
"Wrong answer."
"Whitehall!" he choked, sobbing tears of blood. "Near the government buildings! There's an old mansion protected by glyphs! That's where she is! That's all I know!"
Alice released him. He collapsed into a filthy puddle, groaning and clutching his shattered leg.
"Good boy," Alice said with a manic, humorless smile. "Keep the change."
She wiped the blood from her hands on his coat and walked out of the alley, leaving behind broken bodies and the stench of fear.
The mansion in Whitehall was invisible to careless human eyes. It stood on a side street, surrounded by tall stone walls covered in ivy.
The architecture was Victorian — somber and imposing — but the air vibrated with energy, a magical barrier keeping the curious away.
Alice stopped before the black iron gate.
Her heart — seemingly dead since Kara's funeral — gave a painful lurch.
It was there. She could feel it. The same presence that had sheltered her as a child, saved her from fever, and given her immortality.
She pushed the gate. It wasn't locked for her. The hinges yielded silently.
Alice crossed the garden of black roses —Beth's favorites — and climbed the marble steps to the front door.
She raised her hand to knock, but the door opened on its own, revealing an entrance hall lit by crystal chandeliers and scented candles.
And there, at the top of the staircase, stood her.
Beth.
Time had not touched her — only refined her. Unlike the corpse-pale skin of most vampires, Beth possessed a bronze, radiant complexion, as if she carried the Mediterranean sun beneath her skin.
She was a stunning, mature woman with pronounced curves and a generous bust, elegantly highlighted by an emerald silk dress.
Her brown hair fell in perfect waves over her shoulders, and her deep, ancient eyes carried the wisdom of millennia.
She descended the steps, the fabric whispering softly. Her scent — sandalwood and amber — filled Alice's senses, pulling her back to a time when she felt safe.
Beth stopped two meters away. She studied Alice not as a stranger, but as a mother recognizing her daughter through scars.
"Alice…" Beth's voice was rich and melodic. "You've grown. And you carry so much darkness now."
Alice took a shaky breath, fighting the knot in her throat. She wanted to run into that woman's arms, to cry like the fever-stricken girl she once was.
But that girl was dead.
"Hi, Mom," Alice whispered, her voice breaking.
Beth opened her arms. Alice's defenses crumbled for a heartbeat. She ran into her creator's embrace. Beth's hug was firm, warm (for a vampire), and enveloping.
Alice buried her face in Beth's shoulder, allowing herself — just for a moment — to feel that she wasn't alone in the universe.
But the moment passed. Kara's lifeless body in the mud flashed through Alice's mind.
She gently pulled away.
"What happened, my child?" Beth asked, cupping Alice's face with soft hands. "I can feel your pain. It's… overwhelming."
"They took everything from me," Alice said, her voice hardening into cold steel. "The Council. Crowell. They killed the woman I loved. They broke me, Mom."
Beth sighed, deep sorrow crossing her beautiful face.
"The Council has always been a soul-crushing machine. I'm so sorry, Alice."
"I don't want sympathy," Alice cut in. "I want revenge. I'm going to hunt them down. One by one. I'll bring down Vlad. I'll burn Crowell. I'll erase their legacy until not even dust remains."
Beth stepped back, alarmed by the hatred burning in her daughter's eyes.
"Alice… that's suicide. Vlad is ancient. His power—"
"I know," Alice interrupted. "I'm not strong enough yet. That's why I came to you."
She stepped forward, shifting from daughter to warrior.
"I need power, Beth. Real power. The kind that makes kings tremble."
Beth narrowed her eyes, suspicion rising.
"What kind of power are you talking about?"
Alice held her gaze.
"Dracula's blood. I know you know where the tomb is. I know you guard the ancient secrets."
Beth's bronze skin went pale. She dropped Alice's hands as if burned.
"Have you lost your mind?" she whispered. "The Original's blood isn't a gift, Alice. It's a curse. Pure poison that devours the mind and soul. No one who drinks it ever comes back the same."
"I don't want to be the same!" Alice shouted. "The Alice I was couldn't save Kara! I need to become a monster to kill monsters!"
"I won't allow it," Beth said firmly, her aura of power expanding. "I saved you from death once. I won't hand you the key to hell."
Alice didn't hesitate.
In a blur of motion, she struck.
Her right hand clamped around Beth's throat. Her other hand pressed against her creator's chest, claws tearing through silk and bronze skin.
Beth gasped — not from the pain, but from the betrayal. She looked into Alice's eyes and saw no love.
Only an abyss.
"If I wanted to, Beth…" Alice whispered, bloody tears streaming down her face as she threatened the only family she had left. "I could rip this out of you right now. I could drain your mind and take the information."
"Alice…" Beth tried to speak, but the grip on her throat was too strong.
"Don't make me do this," Alice pleaded, her voice breaking. "I don't care what happens to me anymore. My life ended when her heart stopped. I'm just a weapon now. Point me at the target, Mom. Please."
Beth looked at her daughter and knew she was telling the truth. If she refused, Alice would kill her.
And hate herself forever for it.
Beth closed her eyes, defeated by love and fear.
"Alright," she whispered. "I'll tell you."
Alice released her immediately, stepping back, hands trembling and stained with her mother's blood.
"Thank you."
Beth coughed, touching her throat. She walked to an old bookshelf, pulled a false volume, and retrieved a yellowed parchment and an ancient map.
Turning back to Alice, tears filled her eyes.
"The tomb is in Wallachia. In the forgotten mountains where the sun never reaches," Beth said, handing her the map. "But you must understand… it's guarded. Not by vampires, but by hunters. The Corvinus bloodline. They wield weapons made to exterminate us. If you go there… you probably won't return."
Alice clutched the map to her chest like salvation.
"That's exactly what I want. A chance to fight. Or to die trying."
"Alice…" Beth tried to take her hand one last time. "If you drink that blood… the darkness will speak to you. Dracula will try to possess you. Don't let him win."
Alice looked at her mother. A cold, sad, final smile curved her lips.
"Thank you for giving me life twice."
She turned toward the door.
"After this… nothing will ever be the same."
Alice stepped into the London night, leaving Beth behind, weeping in the entrance hall —knowing she had just handed her daughter over to the arms of the devil himself.