Mortals were so stupid. The newest trend was buying Dracula's Dust. There was no such thing as Dracula.

Vlad shook his head and stroked his moustache. It reached past the corners of his mouth, just like his brother's had. If anyone saw him now, the panic caused would be considerable. He chuckled at the thought.

The resemblance to his brother was overwhelming. The same bulging eyes, straight, aquiline nose, thin mouth and shoulder length brown hair. The only difference between them was that his brother had been dead for over five hundred years.

The great ruler rises again. Oh, how the mortals would squeal and run. They'd think Vlad the Impaler was back from the grave to seek vengeance. Vlad sighed. That would never happen. The world was stuck with him. The fake Vlad. He'd impersonated his brother for so many centuries, he couldn't remember his real name. So, fake Vlad he would always be.

He'd tried so hard to save this land, to be his brother, but, instead, he'd started these moronic vampire rumors. The real Vlad had been a hero, fighting to the death for the country he loved, trying to break it free of the Turks. He, instead, even if he tried to keep the country afloat after the real Vlad's death, had been betrayed and imprisoned in this castle he now called home. His condition had stamped 'vampire' all over his beloved brother's forehead.

Stupid, stupid mortals who couldn't tell the difference. Of his past, this was the only still hurtful memory – having his brother dishonored like that. He should walk down the street, in clear view of the human idiots. At least that would give the gossip some foundation.

Vlad turned back to the room. More important thing required his attention. He had no time for a stroll down memory lane. He took in the peeling white walls of the room he'd made his office. Except for two massive wood cabinets, a long, sturdy table and a couple of chairs, it was empty. Just like most of the castle. He cringed at the memory of humans taking his family's possessions away. But he could do nothing about it. Yet.

"My Lord!"

Stroe, one of his oldest, most faithful vampires rushed through the door, wringing his hands. He knelt before Vlad, his copper locks hiding his thin face.

"Rise." Vlad waved his hand lazily. "What has happened?"

"Iaroslav has been killed, my Lord," Stroe mumbled, his chin stuck to his chest.

Vlad's eyes widened. "Iaroslav? One of the heads of Prague?" That vampire was older than dirt, which made him very hard to kill. "How the devil is that possible?"

"Hunters, my Lord."

Vlad curled his hand into a fist and his jaw tightened. Of course. Hunters were involved. Nothing except Hunters and thirst could kill a vampire. And with a pool of over a million people, a vampire of Iaroslav's caliber would never starve, which made the news even more unsettling.

"There are no Hunter teams in Prague. We exterminated the lot of them from the Czech Republic over a century ago."

Stroe trembled. "We do not believe they are a local team."

Vlad raised his eyebrows. "Someone dared leave their region uncovered? I didn't believe any Hunter teams would wander away from their bases seeing as there's so little of them left."

"These are new, my Lord."

"New?" Vlad scoffed. "There haven't been any new teams, let alone ones powerful enough to kill a vampire like Iaroslav, in over a century. The only reason Hunters are not extinct is because they hide so well."

"That is what our sources in Prague say. They are angry the American clans did not send warning that some of their Hunters had left the continent." Stroe straightened and produced a folder from behind his back. With a trembling hand, he passed it to his master.

"Americans?" Vlad frowned and flicked through the folder's content.

He pulled out a picture of two people in a bar. A tall, well-built young man with black hair and dark blue eyes, along with a gorgeous girl with long, orange hair and green eyes, laughed at him.

It was impossible. These two couldn't have killed Iaroslav. He'd never seen them before, which could mean only one thing. They were children.

"Any information?" Vlad's question came out stiff.

"Their names are Daniel Paxton and Rachel Giuliani."

Vlad squinted. He'd never heard of them either. "An American and an Italian?" He hoped not. He'd never seen Hunters from different continents working together before. That was one of the reasons they were so close to extermination – they didn't keep in touch or help each other on an international level. The only thing their High Council was good for was killing some of them off when they broke protocol.

"He is Canadian and she is from California," Stroe answered.

"Any family?" Vlad searched the picture for other faces that could prove useful. Nothing. They blended in too well with everyone else, from the rock-like outfits, to the genuine smiles on their faces.

"Their parents are dead and they have no siblings or other close relatives."

Vlad gritted his teeth. How convenient for those two. "Are they involved?"

"Sources say no. They are just friends."

"Interesting." Vlad put the picture back inside the folder.

It wasn't in the Hunters' nature to live in solitude. They actively sought companionship and crowds. They still felt affection. Another reason they were weak and easy to exterminate.

"How old are they?"

Stroe bowed his head. "Twenty-five and twenty-four, my Lord."

A low growl escaped Vlad's lips. "I meant in Hunter years."

"He turned ten recently. She is seven."

The envelope slipped out of Vlad's hands and the papers scattered on the floor. Stroe knelt to pick them up. Vlad stared out the window. If he'd had a beating heart, it would be erratic. For centuries, no new Hunters had survived more than five years. His legions made sure to hunt them down while they were vulnerable.

Before the age of five, Hunters were almost harmless. Even a newborn vampire could escape them. They were clumsy, inexperienced, and their most dreadful powers didn't surface. Before turning ten, they would be a worthy challenge, but experienced vampires could still bring down two of them at once. Crossing the ten year threshold made everything much more complicated.

Vlad banged his fist against the wall. Large flakes of worn paint rained on the stone floor. How could he have missed this? "I want to speak to the leaders of the Canadian clans. Also, those wretched freeloaders from California." Speak was a relative term. What he actually wanted was to kill them. Their existence had just become futile.

"There is more bad news, my Lord." Stroe put the envelope on the table and backed toward the door, pulling on his collar. "The leaders of the Canadian clans are dead. The lower vampires are on their own. And we..." His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "We are not sure how many of our kind are left in California."

"What?" Vlad's voice carried across the room like an explosion.

"There have been rumors for a whi—"

"Bring me the map!"

Stroe scrambled out. Vlad roared and paced the length of the room, knocking a chair and the table out of his way. The folder fell to the floor and the picture slipped out. He stopped and picked it up. Could these two have caused so much mayhem in his organized world? He thought he'd never have to deal with any of this. He'd paid good money to make sure of that.

Stroe returned, holding a rolled up map. He righted the upturned table and stretched the paper out, revealing hundreds of red and blue round stickers. Vlad leaned over, examining it carefully, counting the few remaining blue ones.

"Who updates this?" He'd disposed of the last map keeper after being misinformed.

"Iancu, my Lord."

"Date of the last update?"

"Tonight. After Iaroslav's death."

Vlad's eyes narrowed as he studied the state of California. There were hardly any red stickers on it, and two blue ones. The only two Hunter divisions in California. They had never managed to exterminate more than a couple of vampires a year. What had changed? It was true that he'd been so busy with his master plot that he hadn't checked the maps in a long time. But he'd never thought it worth his time.

His eyes swept Canada. What had once been an organized congregation of red stickers, now looked like Brownian movement. How could this be possible?

"Of all these divisions..." Vlad pointed to the blue stickers. "Which one do our young friends belong to?"

"We— we don't know," said Stroe in a trembling voice. "We do not know who they report to. They are constantly on the move."

"I wonder how come their Council hasn't caught up with them yet." Vlad shook his head. Either the Council was playing dirty, or things weren't as bad as he'd originally thought. "There are more vampires in Prague. They might stick around for a while." Vlad folded the map. "Maybe it's time we paid them a visit."

"There is one more thing, my Lord." Stroe shuffled his feet. "The wraiths report that they are... they are looking for you."

Vlad blinked. "For me? They should be careful what they wish for." He dismissed Stroe with a flick of the wrist and strode over to the window. If it's him they wanted, it was him they would get. He couldn't help the grin stretching across his face. He hadn't had this much fun in a while.

Daniel Paxton and Rachel Giuliani would have the honor of being killed by the Lord of all Vampires. 

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Thanks for reading another chapter of Hunters. Hope you had fun! Leave a comment or vote in case you enjoyed it. And thank you for your support!