Castlevania (Collected)

#1 - A Cold Night

Hell's Kitchen, New York City - Now

"Don't you think you're jumping to conclusions, Karen?"

Karen Page pinched the bridge of her nose, hard, as she bottled up all the obscenities she wanted to shout at the top of her lungs. Taking a deep breath, she calmly, quietly, and with an even tone replied, "Haven't you heard a word I've said?"

"Oh I've heard," her coworker Thomas grinned, creases forming on his dark skinned cheeks. "I just don't believe what I'm hearing."

It was a borderline arrogant grin. One which matched his borderline arrogant demeanor. It turned a lot of people off, yet Karen always felt it was just an air he put on to hide his uncertainty. He was, after all, a rising talent in a sea of sharks at the law firm.

Sighing in defeat, Karen took another sip of her strawberry margarita. It had been awkward enough when Karen, the new secretary of only two weeks, asked Thomas out for drinks. He made immediate assumptions she quickly dashed. The truth was he was the only person at the firm she had a glimmer of trust in.

"You don't think there's even a chance it could be true?" Karen asked as she stared at her drink, idly twirling her straw through the ice. Her strawberry-blonde hair draped down over her face, further obscuring Thomas from view.

"Look, I'm not gonna pretend the firm is some....goody good charitable foundation." Thomas paused to sip his scotch. "But witness intimidation? Jury tampering? No. I've never seen anything like that."

"But the email..."

"Is circumstantial at best." Thomas picked the paper off the bar and tossed it into her lap, for emphasis. "Everything in there could be interpreted in multiple ways."

The email in question, one that just happened to accidentally be sent to her, was from one of the partnered lawyers to a client. The wording was vague, but in Karen's mind it very clearly insinuated criminal acts.

"Look, I know it's inconclusive," Karen continued, her voice sullen. She already knew it was a lost cause. "But don't you think I should report it to someone?"

Thomas finished his drink and gently set the glass down on the bar. He idly rubbed the back of his head. "You just did, and I think you're reading too much into it. You really think it'll go well for the new girl to go around accusing people?"

There it was again. The bottling. Grabbing her coat off the back of her bar stool, Karen leapt to her feet and made for the door. "Probably not, but at least the new girl hasn't been there long enough to lose her principals."

Karen pulled her head down into her shoulders as she stormed out, trying her best to hide her beet red face. Whatever she decided to do, it seemed she had no choice but to do it on her own.

The chill night air hit her warm face like a slap. Gritting her teeth against the cold, Karen started walking. She considered hailing a cab, but her apartment was only about five blocks away, and the walk would help blow off some steam.

Her heels echoed along the sidewalk. It was still pretty early in the evening but the bitter cold was keeping most people off the streets. Those who dared venture outside power walked, like grandmas early in the morning at the mall.

After about two and a half blocks Karen began regretting the decision to walk. Her long coat went down to her knees, but she had chosen to wear a long skirt today and her calves were almost numb. Clutching the pepper spray in her coat pocket, she dashed down an alley to cut her walking time down.

Sighing in relief as the alley appeared to be blissfully empty, Karen gingerly stepped around the piles of trash, empty beer bottles, and what she hoped was dog feces. She was about halfway through when she heard a chuckle echo behind her. Her mind told her to speed up, yet she inexplicably found her feet unable to move.

"Why in such a hurry, Karen?" Thomas called out.

Releasing the breath she didn't realize she was holding, Karen found the strength to turn and watch as Thomas casually strolled toward her. That same grin spread across his face.

"It's cold, Thomas." Karen's teeth chattered. "I just want to go home."

"Mmm, home would be nice." Thomas continued moving toward her slowly, his arms held out to his sides. "Perhaps you should invite me?"

Every instinct inside her screamed that something was wrong. As he got closer Karen realized Thomas wasn't wearing a coat, only his sports jacket and half unbuttoned shirt. Yet he showed no signs of the cold bothering him.

"M-Maybe...some other t-time..."

"Shame," Thomas sighed. "Could have given you a good time before the end. But alas..."

"T-Thomas what's-"

"You really disappointed me, Karen. Me and the senior partners. You couldn't even pass the first test."

"T-t-test?" Karen sniffed hard. Her hand fumbled around the pepper spray but couldn't seem to get a grip on it.

"The email," Thomas explained, his tone condescending. He stopped walking about ten feet from her. "It was no accident. It was to see how you'd react. I must say, I had hoped for better."

A blur and a gust of wind was followed by a hand to her mouth before Karen could scream. Another hand pushed against her abdomen until her back hit the wall of the alley. When her eyes finally focused, Thomas was pinning her against the wall, his face to hers.

"Oh well." Thomas ran his mouth down the side of Karen's face. Despite his closeness, she felt no warmth from his skin. "At least it won't be a total waste."

Karen struggled in vain. She screamed into his hand but it didn't budge. He pushed her head to the side and Karen felt something sharp against her neck.

Her heart pounding in her ears, her eyes growing dark, she almost missed the deep red blur hit the ground in front of her. She definitely couldn't miss the loud, sharp crack that echoed through the alley. Something else was here.



Columbia University, New York City - Then

"You're really staying here for Christmas break?" Foggy asked his roommate as he shoved rolled up shirts into a backpack.

Laying back on his bed, his hands behind his head, Matt smiled awkwardly in Foggy's general direction and said, "Really."

"Maaan," Foggy groaned, shoving more clothes unceremoniously into his backpack. "Now you're making me feel bad."

"Why? You get to go home and see the Nelson clan, and I get to enjoy the peace and quiet of a studentless campus."

A thought occurred to Foggy and he raised his head and smiled at Matt. A futile gesture to his blind roommate, but a natural one. "What about Elektra?"

The question actually made Matt chuckle. Foggy had made his dislike of Matt's girlfriend painfully obvious, yet the Christmas spirit was clearly flowing through him. "She got on a flight this morning for Greece."

"Oh," Foggy whispered, defeated.

Swinging his legs around to sit on the side of his bed, Matt reassured his friend one more time. "I'll be fine, Foggy. Christmas isn't...it hasn't been a big deal for me for a long time. I'm okay."

Putting his windbreaker on and pulling his hat down over his long, blond hair, Foggy patted Matt on the shoulder. "Are you going to go to church?"

It was a question that put a slight crack in Matt's stalwart defense. Only slight. "Maybe. Not sure yet."

"Well whether you do or not, you're officially invited to my house to eat dinner, drink box wine, and wa...listen to A Christmas Story until you pass out."

"I appreciate it, Foggy," Matt said as he got to his feet. "I really do."

"So you'll think about it?"

Bundling himself up in his coat, scarf, and gloves, Matt prepared to walk Foggy to his cab. He put on a pair of red tinted sunglasses and grabbed his cane. Foggy handed him his hat but Matt tossed it on the bed.

"Not even the cold is enough to cover up that perfectly coiffed hair?" Foggy teased.

"Hey, the ladies love it," Matt smirked, running his hand through his fiery red hair for emphasis.

"Okay, Conan."

The friends walked through the already rather empty halls of the dorm. Foggy's family lived in the city so he didn't have to head out as early as many of the other students. When they exited the building, Foggy immediately started shivering. Matt just took in a deep breath, appreciating the brisk winter air.

The two said their goodbyes and Foggy started to get into the cab. "What're you gonna do now?"

"I think I'll go get some dinner."

"And by 'dinner' you mean a beer at O'Malleys?"

Matt laughed defensively. "Okay, okay. Guilty as charg..."

Suddenly an older gentleman who had been walking along the sidewalk tripped and fell toward Matt. With a simple, quick turn, Matt extended his arm and caught the gentleman's forearm, stopping the man from falling lower than one knee.

"Excuse me," the older gentleman muttered. Once he was up on his feet, he reached down and brushed off his knee. "So clumsy of me. My apologies."

"No problem," Matt said. "Are you okay?"

"Of course, thank you." The older man had a neatly trimmed gray beard and tightly kept hair. His long, deep red duster coat hung down to his shins. When he finally looked up at Matt's face, he smiled in recognition. "Oh why you must be Matthew um...oh..."

"Murdock," Matt answered cautiously. "And you are?"

"Professor Morris. I just arrived the other day. I'm to be teaching European History after the holiday break but I wanted to get a jump on things. Familiarize myself with the campus and all."

"I gotta go Matt," Foggy interrupted. "I hope I see you on Christmas!"

Matt stood still as Foggy's cab drove off. Professor Morris started moving on but Matt called after him. "Excuse me, professor. How did you know about me, exactly?"

"Oh I make it a point to brush up on the best students on campus when I start at a new school. The other professors speak highly of you, young man. Have a Merry Christmas!"

Matt waited and listened until the Professor went out of earshot. A shiver went down his spine, though not from the cold. One question would bother Matt for the next couple hours. Why had that man been lying the entire time?



"Another round, Matty?" Sean O'Malley asked for the third time tonight. The old man's skin wrinkled even more thanks to his wide smile.

Matt considered the offer for a full six seconds before deciding against it. He still had to make his way back to the dorm. Best not to get knock down drunk.

"Thanks, O'Malley." Matt let out a long breath and stood up. "But I think it's time to head out."

"At least let me call you a cab," O'Malley offered, tossing his towel over his shoulder and starting for the phone. "It's a cold one out there tonight."

"I'll be fine," Matt assured him, already halfway to the door. "The cold air will help sober me up."

Matt could hear the concern in O'Malley's voice. It was the same concern most people had for the poor blind boy. Genuine, but with just a tinge of condescension. Taking it was one of the hardest things he dealt with on a daily basis, but it was a choice he and his father accepted ten years ago.

When he finally stepped outside, the cold winter air really did hit him hard. His nostrils burned from that first intake. Pulling his scarf tighter around his neck and mouth, and slightly regretting the choice not to bring his hat, Matt extended his cane and began his trek back to the dorm.

He'd barely gone a full block when he realized he was being followed. It was the strangest sensation. He could hear the footsteps, the rush of the air past the figure's pants as he walked, yet there was no breath. No heartbeat. It was almost like being followed by a robot.

Matt's pace quickened, straining the point of credibility. His pursuer sped up. Then he heard the same sounds coming from in front of him, approximately two blocks ahead. Matt's own heartbeat began to pound in his ears.

Taking a sudden sharp turn, Matt dashed down an alley between two buildings. Tossing his cane aside, he leapt on top of a dumpster and started to reach for a ladder hanging down from a fire escape. Before his hand could grasp it, he heard a sudden rush of air behind him, followed by a heavy impact knocking him to the ground.

"He's a tricky one," a vaguely European accented male voice said from above him. "I'll give him that."

"Strange," a deep female voice from a few feet back replied. "He moves awfully quick and confidently for a blind man. Are you certain this is the one?"

"Blind, redheaded college boy," the male confirmed. "He was walking with a cane, got his sunglasses on at night. I doubt this kid's future is all that bright."

The male chuckled at his own joke. The female sighed. Matt just laid on the dirty, cold concrete, confusion overtaking him. He could hear their voices, their movements, even their breathing, as shallow as it was. Yet still no heartbeats. It was unlike anything he'd ever experienced.

"Well get him up. Blood wants him alive."

The male yanked Matt off the ground. The sudden shock brought some sense back to Matt, who tried to struggle out of his grasp once he had his feet under him. The male's grip, however, was like a vice.

"Ooooh, our boy's got some fight in him," the male laughed, then punched Matt in the side so hard it knocked the wind out of him.

Struggling to breath, the male's hold the only thing keeping Matt from falling over, Matt suddenly heard something new. A heartbeat.

"Release him at once!"

The male and female reacted instantly. Tossing Matt to the ground, they turned to engage the intruder. Matt recognized the voice at once. The so called "Professor Morris."

Matt's attackers rushed toward Morris faster than anyone had a right to do so. Yet he was prepared. From inside his deep red duster Morris pulled a brown leather whip. In one fluid motion he struck out, the loud crack echoing down the alleyway, and almost struck the male who flinched backward, seemingly in fear.

The female reached Morris, who narrowly dodged her attack. He stepped back and produced a small vial of water from his duster pocket. Smashing it on the ground at her feet, the liquid splashed against her legs and suddenly produced bright blue flame.

The female screamed in agony. She fell back onto the ground and started to crawl back, but Morris swung his whip around and slashed her across the chest. The wound began to blacken and crumble. It quickly spread across her entire body until she fell back into a pile of black ash.

What was happening was nearly incomprehensible to Matt. He sat, frozen in fear and confusion, as the male ran along the wall of the alley to attack Morris. Momentarily distracted by the female, Morris was caught off guard.

"Die, you filthy hunter!" the male screeched as he tackled Morris to the ground. Morris tried to reach up and block the male's attack, but his arms were swatted aside. The male grabbed Morris' coat and pulled him in for a headbutt. Dazed, Morris was unable to defend himself as the male moved in toward his neck.

Before the male could finish his attack, a fist slammed into the side of his head. He turned to see Matt above him, fists held up in a boxing stance. The element of surprise allowed Matt the opportunity to follow up his first jab with a left hook and a hard uppercut that sent the male reeling.

"What the fuck?" the male almost laughed, reaching out and grabbing Matt's wrist. His finger nails were like razors that dug into Matt's flesh. "I thought you were blind, boy!"

He tossed Matt aside like a rag doll. Matt's slammed into the alley wall and he slid to the ground. Before the male could press his attack, Morris spun his legs around, knocking the male down on one knee, and flipped up onto his feet. With another loud crack, the whip suddenly wrapped around the male's face, which quickly blackened. His body fell to ash on the concrete before him.

"Not bad, Matthew," Morris said as he coiled up his whip. "Must say a bit surprising. How on Earth did you do that?"

Matt's body ached all over. The warmth of blood flowing down his forearm contrasted the cold sweat over the rest of his body. Looking up in the vague direction of Morris, he simply asked, "Who are you?"



Hell's Kitchen, New York City - Now

"Fucking hunter!"

Thomas hopped backwards, dodging something Karen couldn't see. Without his weight pushing her up against the wall, Karen fell to her knees on the ground. Coughing, she instinctively felt her neck. There was a trace amount of blood on her hand when she pulled it back, but it didn't seem severe.

Karen's eyes snapped up at another sudden crack. It was dark, but she watched Thomas charge toward another figure in a deep red duster. He swung around and snapped what seemed to be a whip toward Thomas. Thomas leapt into the air, at least twenty feet, and spun around to land behind the man in red.

Thomas lunged forward, seemingly at the advantage over the man in red. Yet the man in red turned just in time to block the attack. The two figures exchanged a series of blows. Thomas moved at superhuman speed, yet the man in red had little trouble anticipating his movements and keeping up his defense.

The man in red tried to swing his whip around and regain the offensive, but Thomas was able to grab his arm and tear the whip out of his hand. Caught off balance, the man in red fell backwards.

Thomas lunged forward, ready to end this fight, when the man in red held something up. The alley erupted suddenly in screams of pain. The smell of burning flesh permeated the alley. When Thomas finally backed up, Karen saw the man in red held a simple wooden cross in his hand.

"Oh my G..."

Karen could barely speak before the man in red was on his feet and pressing the attack. The two traded blows, though now Thomas seemed much slower than before. So slow that the man in red was able to duck under a high attack and spin around, a wooden stake in his hand. Holding it upside down in his left hand, he plunged it into Thomas' chest. With his right palm he slammed it deeper until Thomas burst, his body falling to the ground as a pile of black ash.

Karen was speechless. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Not only had she just been attacked by the one person she thought she could trust at work, but he apparently was...a vampire?

"Are you all right?"

Karen shook her head and blinked back tears. She looked up and saw the man in red standing above her, his hand held out for her.

"I'm...I'm...I don't," Karen stammered. "W-Who are you?"


"Who are you?"

"My name is Julius Belmont." He held a hand out to Matt, who took it gratefully. "I'm your grandfather, Matthew."



"My name is Matthew," the man in red answered.

Now standing next to him, she saw he wasn't much older than her. He had long red hair that hung down to his neck and a neatly kept goatee. What shocked her was this whole time he wore a dark red blindfold over his eyes.

"Matthew Belmont."

-To Be Continued-