The cat had followed him, very quietly out of the crypt.
It trailed behind him up from the spider webbed choked crypt ( how long had he been asleep this time?) and out to to the cemetery which was in ruins now.
Headstones were broken, some were covered with weeds the Funeral Home on the hill was a skeleton now- the windows were boarded up and the front door was missing.
” Well there went the neighborhood ” the man said in a heavily accented voice. ” I thought this was going to be a good one. Real estate, you just never know what it’s going to do.”
The cat looked up at and its eyes flared yellow and dark orange flames at him.
The man hated cats and here he was, talking to one.
A stupid rat catcher.
” I am the Count. Count Dracula. Death stands in awe of what I did when I was human, and it is stunned at what I’ve done since I died.”
The cat yawned.
” Yes. well I am standing here talking to a cat. Pity. It’s true . Even the mightiest fall, ” he motioned around them and looked down pointedly at the cat. ” Eventually.”
The cat lifted it’s paw up and began to clean it.
“So tell me, what have you done, Cat?”
The cat, it’s voice heavy with dirt from the crypt answered in an all to human voice, ” I came back from the dead and drove my most of family to their grave. And I got away with it.”
Dracula heard a cough. One that doesn’t come from the chest but rather is intended to get one’s attention.
The Count straightened up turned around and a man with glasses and a wooden stake in his hand slammed the expertly sharpened stick into the Count’s chest.
” Well Church. It looks like you eat tonight Buddy.”
Count Dracula, slayer of worlds, seducer of woman and hater of cats plopped unceremoniously to the ground.
Church circled around the writer’s legs and Stephen leaned down and pat his misshapen skull. ” After that great story you told me about your family, I can’t thank you enough. It was one long scream fest. Let me me know if there’s anything else you need. I owe you Pal”
Church meowed, though it actually sounded like a laugh.