Outside Wolverton Manor, gleaming fangs showed stark white in the fog-ridden night as a man studied Neil Asher's residence. The Earl of Wolverton's home was a massive place with a red-gabled roof.
Dracula paused in his observation as he felt a twinge of guilt. His brother Dracul would have sought revenge immediately, but he, Dracula, Dracul's twin brother, was made of smarter stuff. Asher had been a powerful force before his marriage to a Van Helsing. Now he had the backing of that vampire-slaying clan as well. Not to mention, true love always made a vampire stronger.
His twin was now dust; so many good vampires were ashes, gone with the wind. Yet, he knew instinctively that revenge would come. It was a dish best served cold, despite what his brother had believed. He could wait. Dracula knew that few mortals or immortals knew of his existence. He would keep it that way—for now. But look out, world, there was a new Prince of Darkness in Town.
Taking one last look at Wolverton manor, Dracula saluted Asher. "Your time will come," he hissed.
Shrugging his shoulders, he turned away. He had a million tomorrows to avenge the death of his brother and his brother's nest. He began to stroll in the direction of Hyde Park. Fading into the ghostly London fog like smoke, he spoke his thoughts aloud: "After all, tomorrow is another night."