Mystery at Castle Dracula

By Jeff Baker

The cloud-enshrouded mountains parted like curtains as our carriage proceeded towards the dark castle.

“They never hole up in a convenient motel near a pool, do they?” Jessie said sarcastically.

“Sometimes they do,” I said. “Remember the manager at the Motel 101?”

“Trying to forget,” he said.

“Besides, if we’re going after the big fish, go into the deep water,” I said.

“Castle Dracula,” Jessie said. “Of course.”

We’d been hunting and dispatching vampires for years. It was sort of the family business. I’d inherited a box of tools from my Grandfather’s estate including a formula for finding the undead. The most precious relic was the Star of David that had been blessed by a Rabbi with a formula from the Lost Book of the Kaballah. As long as I wore it, vampires couldn’t touch me. At least, not for long. That was about the only way of identifying real vampires. We had almost staked a kook who liked to pretend he was Dracula a few years ago. Now, we were going after the genuine article.

The carriage pulled up to the huge, wooden door. We clamored out into the cool air.

Jesse looked up at the high walls. “Think we’re expected?” he asked.

“Yup,” I said, holding up the embossed invitation with both our names.

With a whinny, the horses turned and the carriage barreled back down the road. I kept thinking of Mel Brooks. I reached up to pound on the door. Before I could touch it, the door slowly opened, revealing the darkness inside.

End of Part One.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: We were watching some of the old “Hardy Boys/Nancy DrewMysteries” when I wrote this. Don’t know if I’ll ever continue it, but I should! —jsb.