Worlds Combine #5-

Zatanna

By karaokecowboy76

I am Uatu, a member of a cosmically powered group known as the Watchers. There are few in the many and varied universes that can match my power, but though I can intercede in the events you are about to hear of, such is not my place. Mine is but to watch and record, but never to interfere…I am the Watcher

            A little note from the author: This one is in honor of Halloween, my personal favorite holiday!  The version of Dracula (yes you read that right!) I’m using here is that of Marvel Comics from back in the days of Tomb of Dracula.  I’m old school like that.  Deal with it.  Further note that this story assumes that Dracula hasn’t been seen since issue 70 of Tomb of Dracula, published in 1972, where he was supposedly killed!

Watchtower, in orbit of DC’s Earth:

            “Zatanna, might I have a moment?”  the voice was oddly hollow sounding, echoing as if from a great distance.  She recognized it immediately.

            “Of course, Doctor Fate, how may I be of assistance?”  Zatanna Zatara had been walking along one of the Watchtowers many corridors when he called to her, now she turned to face him.  As always when in the presence of such a powerful sorcerer, she got a little chill up her spine.  She wondered if other magic users got that when they were near her, she always thought it was her innate magical abilities acknowledging the presence of a peer.

            “I’ve just come from a meeting with Batman, Superman and Spider-Man… our visitor from the dimension that Wonder Woman disappeared to.”  He informed her.

            She nodded.  “And?”

            “It has been suggested that the dimensional anomalies we are experiencing might be magical in origin, which would help to explain why the League is having trouble tracing or predicting them.”  Doctor Fate explained.  Zatanna was always a little unnerved when conversing with Fate, she could never tell exactly where he was looking through that tall golden helmet of his.  She had seen him without it of course, his real name was Kent Nelson, a man in his fifties, tall and slender though he had the vitality of a much younger man when wearing that helmet.  On the rare occasions he took it off, he generally started to show his advanced age rather quickly.

            “I suppose that makes a strange kind of sense.  There has long been magic that could affect the veil separating dimensions.  We have both breached them on multiple occasions.”  She said with a nod.  “Let me guess, they want us to check it out?”

            “Actually no, just you.  I volunteered, but Batman asked me to send you down.  He doesn’t want to place both of the League's magical powerhouses in potential danger at the same time and he either thinks I’m too valuable to go or you’re too valuable not to.  I didn’t question his reasoning.”  Doctor Fate had a tendency to be rather blunt, and this was a good example of such behavior.

            Her delicately arched eyebrows shot up at that, then she took a moment to decide if she should be insulted or not and decided it wasn’t worth the effort.  Instead, she nodded, “Where am I going?  Did they say?”

            “There is currently an active anomaly in Oregon state, right on the coast.  They would like you to investigate.”  Fate informed her.

            “I’m on my way then.”  Zatanna said firmly, then turned and started off down the corridor again, toward the transporter station.

            “Zee.”  She turned back to see him still standing there, gazing after her.  “Be careful.  We have no idea what is happening here yet.”

            She was touched, she had no idea whether or not Doctor Fate was even capable of feeling such emotion and wasn’t at all sure how he felt about her.  “I will, thank you.”

            She materialized on a sandy beach, her long black hair whipping in the wind.  She had to reach up and hold her top hat, part of her costume for as long as she could remember, on her head to keep it from being blown off.  “Tah yats!” she mumbled and felt the hat settle firmly on her head, held in place by her magic.  She pulled her hand down and glanced around her, the Oregon beach was truly beautiful, white sand all the way to the water's edge, waves washing up onto the shore a few yards away.  Opposite the water, across the beach a foliage covered hill rose about twenty feet and she could see cars there, as though a parking lot overlooked the beach.  Frowning, she turned in place and gazed up and down the beach, but she saw no sign of anyone.  ‘There should be people here.’ she thought, glancing up at the sun and seeing that there were still several hours till dusk.

            “Ylamona wohs flesruoy!” she cried into the wind.  It had taken her many years to learn her unique method of spell casting.  She had been taught by her father, John Zatara who was a prominent stage magician.  It was her mother, Sindella from whom Zatanna had inherited her magical abilities.  Sindella was a member of the ancient magical tribe known as the Hidden Ones, and Zatanna too was of that people, though she had no actual connection to them.  Speaking backwards was the way that her people manipulated magic, asking it to do their bidding but speaking in a way that was difficult to learn, but that Zee had long since mastered.

            After speaking her spell, the air around her changed color, swirling in variations of pink, blue and purple.  Her eyes narrowed as she examined these strange energies, noting that as she looked through them it appeared to her as though the sky was changing colors as well.  “Are you magical in nature?”  She reached out with her magical senses, extending a white gloved hand toward the energy and her brows knitted in concentration.  “There is something there!  Something… not altogether natural but… not entirely magical either.”   Lowering her hand, she activated her communication device. 

“Watchtower, this is Zatanna, to you read me?”  She frowned again when there was no answer.  “Watchtower, please respond.”

            “So…” she determined after a thoughtful pause, regarding the swirling energies before her, “...whatever you are, you disrupt electronic communications.  There are magical means by which that can be done, but there are other forms of communication as well.”  She opened her mind, reaching out with a telepathic sense she had never quite mastered but that she had been coached in by Martian Manhunter.  “J’onn, can you hear me?”  Again there was no response and she cursed colorfully.  “What are you?” she asked the energy, then she turned and started to walk toward the distant hill, thinking if she put some distance between herself and the distortion, she might be able to communicate with her allies again.  She hadn’t gone three steps when the world around her seemed to spin and she gasped, falling to her knees on the beach and then slumping to the side, supporting herself on her hands.  “Oh… stop the world I want to get off.”  She mumbled as the beach beneath her seemed to pitch and roll as though she were on a roller coaster.  Finally, the distortion and the chaos was too much for her senses and the sexy magician slumped onto her back, passing out.

            She awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright and glancing around desperately.  “No!” she wasn’t on the beach anymore, and current events being what they were, she knew that could only mean she had teleported dimensionally, but to which one?  As a person of no little magical power, Zatanna had done a lot of dimension hopping over the years, but there were endless numbers of them out there and she had no idea which one she was on!  With a grunt of effort, she pushed herself to her feet and then gasped, staggering as a wave of dizziness about sent her back to her shapely backside.  She staggered to the right and instinctively reached out to catch herself, finding herself suddenly leaning against a tree.  Once the dizziness had passed, she glanced up at the tree and was surprised to recognize the breed.

“Oak.” she said, knowing the tree because it had a great deal of history in the magical realms in which she had grown up.  “Old too.”  She pushed off the tree and glanced around.  She was in a sparse forest, trees several feet to yards apart and it was quite cold and dark, so dark that she concluded wherever she was it was the middle of the night.  Distantly, she heard a wolf howl, and it sent a little shiver down her spine that had nothing at all to do with the cold.  “Where the hell am I?”  She started walking, hugging herself for warmth.  Her magician's costume, which consisted of a black coat and tails, a low-cut white top and fishnet stockings in addition to her trademark top hat, did very little to ward off the chill.  ‘Does my magic work here?’ she wondered, then decided to test it.  “Htmraw fo elbbub.”  the wind and cold seemed to recede immediately and was replaced by a pocket of pleasantly warm air that encompassed an area about three feet to all sides of her.  “Thank god for that.”  She said aloud, then swooned as the effort of casting the magic brought on another dizzy spell.

            Suddenly the ground under Zatanna’s feet gave way and she plummeted, screaming in terror, into a dark hole.  She got her bearings quickly and shouted “Taolf!”  Her descent was instantly slowed, and she floated, featherlike, to the hard ground some twenty feet below.  Once she had settled and another dizzy spell had passed she glanced up. The hole she had fallen through was visible, or rather the starry night was visible through it but it was twenty feet above her and she didn’t think she could maintain the magic necessary to carry herself out of it without succumbing to another dizzy spell and falling.  The potential for injury was too great.

            Reaching up she removed her top hat and reached into it, her arm disappearing all the way to her shoulder.  When she pulled it back out, there was a silver handled cane, about four feet long in her hand.  Smiling, remembering how that had always been a crowd pleaser in her stage shows, she placed her hat back on her head and brandished the cane like a wand.  “Thgil!”  The tip of the cane lit up, illuminating the cavernous space she found herself in.  She turned, holding the light aloft as she gazed around.  It was so vast that she couldn’t see any walls around her, and there was a light fog covering the ground, swirling about her knees. It was the swirling of the fog that told her which way to go.  The swirling meant that there was a breeze, and it wasn’t difficult to mark the backtrail.  After about ten minutes of walking, she came to the edge of the cavernous space and by following that elusive breeze she wound up finding a tunnel that led away from it.  She knew of course that the breeze could lead to little more than a crack through a wall, but she would cross that bridge when she came to it.

            The tunnel continued on for many yards, winding left and right and growing considerably narrow in some places, but it always seemed to widen out again.  Several times she would stop and turn back, a scowl on her lovely face as she thought she heard something in the darkness behind her, as though she were being followed down the tunnel.  But it was dark and spooky, especially with the swirling mist and she realized it could well be her imagination playing tricks on her.  Still, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling.

            Finally, the tunnel opened into another room, this one much smaller than the first.  Zatanna held her lighted cane aloft and looked around.  The mist was thicker here, swirling more than it had been so she was close to the source of fresh air.  She moved slowly forward, noting that the ceiling too was lower, she could see the roots of what she thought were trees dangling down above her head.  Did that mean she was closer to the surface?  She hadn’t noticed that the tunnel was angling upward, but maybe the surface was angling down?  She moved closer to one of the walls and recoiled suddenly in horror.  There was a coffin jutting halfway out of the dirt there.  It was old and rotted, half the side broken open to reveal the skeletal remains of its occupant.  She sighed, chastising herself for being so jumpy, but it was perhaps the last thing she had expected to see down here, so it was understandable it would spook her.  Steeling her nerves, she moved closer to the coffin and examined the hole from which it was protruding.  Might there be an opening above it she could crawl out of?  Craning her head down and into the space with the coffin, she looked up but saw only dirt.  The stench coming from the casket was foul and she wrinkled her pert nose as she backed away.

            “Thgil tfola!” she mumbled, brandishing her light source toward the low ceiling of the cavern.  A small globe of light separated itself from the end of her cane and drifted upward to attach itself to the tips of the protruding roots, then it brightened, illuminating the entirety of the space.  “There has got to be a way out of here!” she grumbled to herself.

            This time when she heard the sound behind her there was no questioning it and she spun, extending her long, wand like cane and shouting “Erif!”  A stream of flame shot forth, engulfing the figure that had been moving slowly toward her and that she suspected had been following her along that tunnel the whole time.  It burst instantly into flame and toppled, with little sound or other death throes to lie in a smoldering heap on the ground.  Zee moved toward it, narrowing her eyes and scowling at the burnt husk closely.  It was a human form, though she suspected it had been dead long before she lit it on fire.  “Wonderful… zombies!”  Glancing at the tunnel she had come from, she strained to hear any further threats approaching, but the sizzling of the flesh at her feet masked

any other sounds.  She briefly considered caving in the tunnel, but realized there may not be another exit from this space.  She decided to scout out the cavern she was currently in before deciding what to do with her backtrail.

            She studied the swirling of the mist and followed the current to the side of the room opposite the coffin she had found earlier.  There she found a door, seven feet tall and thick wood that looked like oak.  She frowned, leaning closer to the door, barely able to make out an inscription on its surface.  The light from her spell was fainter here, but she thought it looked like Hungarian, one of the languages she didn’t speak.  "Vigyázzatok, akik ide mennek, mert a Sötét Nagyúr ott lakik!"

            “Well, I don’t know what you say but… it can’t be worse than zombies on my backtrail!”  She tried the ancient handle on the door, but it wouldn’t budge.  Frowning, wondering if she was making her situation worse, she squared her shoulders and intoned, “Rood nepo!”  There was a faint click and then the door swung outward with much loud squeaking of hinges. She had to step back to avoid its path, then found herself facing a gaping doorway with nothing but darkness beyond.  She stepped into the doorway and was about to cast another light spell in the room when torches in sconces all along the walls of this next space sputtered and flickered to life. The room beyond the door was cast in flickering relief, shadows seeming to dance in the corners.  There were cobwebs here, unlike in the tunnel and caverns she had seen earlier, clinging to everything like a blanket.  Hesitantly, Zatanna crossed the threshold and shivered, it was as though she had passed through an invisible barrier into a pocket of cold air.  The door swung shut behind her with a loud screech of hinges and a sudden, violent slam.  She jumped, startled and turned to look back at it.  Her nerves were suddenly very on edge, but she was fairly confident her magic could open the door again, after all it had gotten her in here.

            Turning back to the room she scowled across at the far side, cloaked in shadows that seemed to defy the light from the torches.  There was something there, she could see the faint outline of it in the enshrouding darkness.  Slowly she started forward, the high heels of her black boots clicking on the close-set paving stones under her feet.  That was new as well she realized, for the tunnel and caverns had all been tightly packed earth under foot.  She had covered perhaps half the distance to the darker side of the room when more flames flickered into existence.  These were at the end of tall taper candles that were perched on stands positioned to either end of a grand coffin which was in turn centered on a raised platform.  This gave Zatanna pause and she frowned slightly, tilting her head to one side in a vaguely cat like gesture of curiosity.  She wasn’t scared, though she recognized on some level that she probably should be, but her years adventuring with the Justice League and her confidence in her own magical power made her wary of such situations, but not exactly fearful.

            Her steps slower, perhaps a little more cautious, she approached the coffin.  It seemed to be made of the oak that was so prevalent here, though stained black and highly polished.  It was obviously ancient, but so well preserved that she realized the room must have been airtight when that heavy door was sealed.  Spiders scampered out of her path as she approached the sealed casket, but she gave them no mind.  There was a symbol on the lid of the coffin, she could see it as she approached.  The symbol, which she was able to make out as she got closer, was that of a dragon, its tail looped back and wrapped around its neck.  The back of the dragon was divided from head to tail with blood that encircled a white cross above the dragon.  Her blue eyes widened slightly, for whether she was in her own dimension or not, she recognized that symbol.  Her magical upbringing had been littered with tales of the people who had created it.  “The Order of the Dragon!” she gasped, her eyes traveling again over the casket and suddenly, as if of their own volition, her feet were backing her away.  Her magical senses had suddenly come to life, warning her that this place was not safe, not even for her!

            She backed all the way up to the heavy oak door and pressed her back to it, her eyes never leaving the coffin, now so well illuminated across the room.  Finally, she managed to break the almost trancelike spell it had placed her in and she turned her back to it, her fingers scrambling at the handle of the door.  It was as unyielding as it had been before, and she had to force herself to focus through the panic to enact the spell that had granted her access the first time, desperate now to get out of this place, believing she knew from legends who it was that lay within the coffin behind her.

            The door opened again to her spell, though it seemed agonizingly slow in letting her out and she nearly sprinted from the tomb, not pausing as she started toward the tunnel entrance on the far side.  She was met as she neared it by another figure staggering out and she cried out in terror and anger, her cane lashing out even as she spoke the word “erif” and a jet of flame lanced forth.  The zombie uttered not a sound as it staggered out of her path and fell, but Zee found her exit blocked as another undead filled the space behind it.  She lashed out again with fire and this time the zombie fell where it stood, revealing yet another behind it.  She saw in the glare of those flames that the length of the tunnel she had followed earlier seemed now to be crowded with undead, all in various repulsive stages of decomposition.

            Zatanna, panic welling within her, spun away from the tunnel, understanding instinctively that there were far too many zombies there for even her power to deal with.  Especially when she didn’t yet know if her powers were back to their fullest as yet.  She ran quickly from one end of the cavern room to the other, checking the space for any exits she might have missed the first time, even checking the hole with the coffin again but there was nothing.  It wasn’t until she turned her back to the coffin that she saw she was no longer alone in the room.  Standing at its center, facing her with the strange fog swirling about their calves were three women.  Beautiful in a predatory way, they had pale skin and shapely forms and were clad in lightweight gowns that clung provocatively to them.  One was possessed of hair as black Zee’s own, another had hair of dark blonde and the third’s was red.  Each of them had eyes that were turned on Zatanna and seemed to glow in the faded light of the wall torches.

            She knew them from legend, from the stories that were told of this place and the… creature that dwelled here.  At least she assumed the tales were the same in this dimension as they were in her own.  Back home she had always thought him a myth, but perhaps here in this world myth and reality were one and the same?  “You’re his brides, aren’t you?”

            “She knows us sister's!” said the black-haired bride, clutching her breast as though honored to be recognized.

            “More importantly she seems to know the master!” said the blonde.

            “Knows of him anyway.  After all, is he not the most famous of us all?”  said the redhead.

            “Fair point Aleera.”  Said the brunette to the redhead.  That name struck a familiar chord with Zatanna, confirming her suspicions and causing a deep, cold dread to settle in the pit of her stomach.  She glanced toward the tunnel and realized that the zombies, though still there, weren’t entering the chamber. Why? “Who are you mortal?”

            “I am Zatanna Zatara, daughter of John Zatara and Sindella of the Hidden Ones!  My magic is very strong I assure you!”  she said, trying to pitch her voice in a warning tone.

            The brunette, the leader of the trio based on her tone, movements and the fact that she stood at the front of them, narrowed her eyes dangerously.  “We know of the Hidden Ones girl.  They have stood against the master before!  Is that why you have come?  Are you here to destroy him?  You’ll find that to be not so easy a task!”

            “Careful Verona, the Hidden Ones are not to be trusted!  She is dangerous!”  the blonde said into the brunette’s ear in a stage whisper.

            “You’ve got that part right!”  Zatanna growled, then she raised her gloved hands toward the low ceiling, “Stoor ot sekats!”

            All three vampire women scowled at her, not understanding what she had done till it was far too late.  The oak roots dangling from the ceiling shifted form and turned into stakes, then Zee twisted her hands at the wrists and the stakes all turned to point at the vampire women.  They noticed it then, looking up and around in horror and they hissed hatefully at Zatanna. “Bats!”  The vampires looked confused for a moment, thinking she had been talking about furry winged rodents, but of course that wasn’t what she had said at all.  The stakes shot forth from the ceiling, plunging deep into the shapely undead females standing at the center of the room.  They screamed horribly, scarlet geysers blooming forth wherever one of the long wooden objects pierced them.  Zatanna, safe across the room, still winced as she saw them melt, their willowy feminine bodies turning to pools of gore and bubbling muck before evaporating into nothingness.

            Movement to the side drew her attention and Zee saw the zombies starting to enter the room in a wave of foul, decomposing flesh.  The presence of the brides had been the only thing keeping them at bay before.  Already there were twenty of them in the chamber with her and more were coming.  Too many, she knew, especially with her head spinning as it was from the magic she had just cast.  ‘Whatever this effect is, it hasn’t passed yet!’ she thought, glancing around desperately for someplace to go, or something to fight with.  Her gaze fell on the other door, the one leading into the tomb.  Her heart skipped a beat, there was no choice obviously.  She dashed across

the room, noting that the door to the tomb stood open but she dismissed this with a desperation born of need to survive.  It must have been open because the vampire women had come in, right?  It didn’t occur to her that she would have heard the hinges squeal if that had been the case.  No sooner had she crossed the threshold then the door slammed shut behind her.  Zee skidded to a halt, spinning with a startled gasp to observe the tightly closed door.  Then another noise reached her ears, similar to the squealing of the door’s hinges, but on a far lesser scale.  Slowly, trepidation creeping up her spine like a cold chill, she turned toward the pedestal across the room.  The coffin that rested atop it was opening, the lid being pushed upward from within.

            “No!  No, no, no, no!” she said, panic welling up inside her.  A hand appeared under the lid, lifting it as the long, pale fingers of another curled around the open edge of the coffin.  The nails of those fingers were quite long, but clean and seeming well maintained as though the owner cared about his appearance.  Zatanna whirled, covering the few steps to the door, thinking she would rather take her chances with the zombies than this man.  She tried to open the door but of course it wouldn’t budge, she tried her magic but all she got for her efforts was a wave of dizziness that made her slump against the wall.

            “You have slain my brides.”  The voice was very masculine, rich and sensual, lilting with a Romanian accent, the R’s of his speech rolling like liquid.  “It is fortunate then that your beauty, wit and charm are sufficient to serve as a replacement.”

            Slowly she turned to face him, her back to the wall as much for support against the dizziness as it was to place herself as far from him as was possible.  He was not overly tall, though certainly more than six feet.  He appeared to be a man in his fifties, slender and well-dressed if his attire was incredibly out of date.  His complexion was pale, and he had black hair, receding well back on his brow into a pronounced widow’s peak.  He wore a style of suit that was probably popular in the renaissance, black coat and tails over a white button up shirt and a broad, blood red cummerbund about his waist.  From his shoulders hung a long, flowing black cloak, the inner lining the same red as the waistcoat he wore. About his neck, dangling from a gold chain, was a medallion depicting the dragon, hanging in a circle with its tail wrapped about its neck, a blood red diamond at the center.  It was his eyes though that caught her attention… and held it.  They were deep, dark pools that spoke of centuries of life, accumulated knowledge and horrible, horrible loneliness.  There was something else there as well, something that made butterflies start to flutter about in her stomach… hunger, and not just for her precious life’s blood.  She wanted to speak, wanted to defy him… to deny him, but she was powerless under that hypnotic stare.

            “What is your name my beauty?” He was suddenly within arm’s reach of her, her heart was pounding.  He smelled slightly of must and decay, but there was also an undeniable allure in his presence, he exuded sex like an aura and Zatanna found that her body ached for his touch!  He reached out gently and caressed her cheek with the knuckles of his right hand, extending a thumb to trace the plump lips of her sensual mouth.

            “I am Zatanna, daughter of Sindella of the Lost Ones.” she said, hearing and hating the quiver of fear in her voice.  She had power yes, but here was true power, power born of immeasurable evil.  Power like nothing she had ever encountered or fought before.

            “Zatanna, daughter of Sindella,” he said, his hand trailing down from her face, index finger extended so that his long, claw like nail trailed over her sensitive skin, along the column of her throat and then the plunging neckline of her costume, where his eyes lingered hungrily, “I am Vlad Dracul, known in the world at large as Count Dracula though in fact I was a Prince!  You were once of the tribe known as the Lost Ones but now precious

Zatanna, now… you belong to me!”  His lips were on hers then, dry and cool but insistent and very hungry.  The hunger is what translated in that kiss, the hunger is what caused Zatanna to melt against him, to thrill at his touch as his slender but impossibly strong arms slid about her waist and pulled her to him.  He groaned in delight at the feel of her lush, high breasts pressed against his chest and when her pelvis met his she felt his hunger for her there as well.  For a slightly built man she could not help but notice he was quite well endowed!

            Using his arms about her waist, Dracula picked her up and turned, carrying her across his tomb toward his casket.  Her top hat fell off and skittered across the room at a careless kick from his black shoe.  As they approached the lid of the casket closed as if of its own volition and he laid Zee atop it, never breaking his kiss.  His long, dexterous fingers started working at the buttons and buckles of her costume, stripping her naked while also caressing and fondling her sensuous, womanly curves.  Zee was in ecstasy, squirming and gasping at his touch, wanting more… nae needing more!  Very soon she was naked, sprawled across the top of his coffin and he stripped bare as well, joining her there. Their lips met again, hungrily and now their hands explored each other eagerly.  She found that though he was thin, he was solid and well-muscled, his touch cool which would have bothered her were she not completely lost in his power.  Dracula started downward, kissing his way down her neck, pausing at the base where he took a moment to lick, feeling the jugular vein pulsing powerfully beneath his

tongue.  Then he continued down, kissing, licking and sucking his way to the tips her large, well-rounded breasts.  Zee gasped when he flicked one of her nipples with his tongue, then her shoulders arched off the surface of the coffin as he took it in his mouth and sucked hard, her full lips parting in delight at the sensations this caused in her.  Her legs parted for him, bent at the knees, encouraging him to take her but Dracula would not be rushed.  He continued to lave his attentions on her beautiful bosom, licking and sucking at her large, fully erect nipples, moving from one of them to the other and then burying his face between them. Finally, his mouth yawned open, revealing two gleaming, pearly white fangs and he sank them into the pliant, warm flesh on the inside slope of her left breast.

            “Ah… God!”  Zatanna crooned, the sharp pain as delightful as the pleasure he had been causing her.  She grasped at him, her fingers running through his thin black hair, pressing his mouth more firmly to her firm globe.  Dracula sucked, there wasn’t much blood flow in a woman’s breast but there was ample for him to get his first delectable taste of Zatanna.  Finishing there, the lord of vampires lowered himself further down the magician, kissing his way now down her toned, flat belly and finally coming to rest with his face nestled between her spread thighs.  Zee sighed, her eyes closing and her hands resting on the back of his head as he started to work on her.  His lips found hers, her nether lips that is, and she gasped, smiling as he parted them with his tongue, grazing her clitoris slightly.  “Yes!” she moaned rapturously.  Dracula reached up and caressed her toned thighs, sliding his hands up and down them tenderly, his long nails scraping lightly over her skin, making her shiver with delight.  Zee writhed and contorted as his mouth worked on her, driving her wild with ecstasy which in turn caused her to warm, her blood pumping all the more.  He drove her to two senses shattering climaxes, leaving her a quivering, sweating mess atop his coffin before he turned his face and kissed her inner thigh lovingly.  He traced kisses along the varicose vein of her thigh, visible as it was now pumping blood at an incredible rate due to Zatanna’s hyper arousal.

            With a groan of hunger, he sank his fangs into that vein and Zee gasped, her spine arching, her magnificent breasts thrusting toward the stone ceiling.  The prince of darkness drank deeply, his hands kneading her sleek thighs.  For several long minutes he drank, the exquisite beauty weakening by the moment.  Finally, he had had enough and he raised his head, gazing up along her statuesque form, seeming somewhat hypnotized by her great beauty.  He started back up, kissing and licking his way up her prone form and she sighed, squirming a little, her body incredibly weak from loss of blood.  He paused at her breasts, licking up some of the blood that had dribbled from his first bite, and she quivered with desire, her hands stroking his shoulders and upper arms.  Then he was laying atop her fully again, her soft, pliant lips hungry beneath his mouth.  “Take me…” she whimpered, her pelvis lifting and grinding erotically against his, “...take me please.”

           “Who am I?”  he asked her, his lips grazing her ear lightly.

            “Dracula!” she gasped, clutching at him.

            “Who am I… to you?” he rephrased the question.  She turned her head slightly, locking her eyes with his, losing herself in that depth, in that vast knowledge and knowing that if she submitted, he would share what he knew with her.  “Say it Zatanna,” she loved the sound of her name on his lips, “tell me who I am to you.”

            “My love…” she whispered, then she said the words he wanted to hear, “...my master!”  She screamed, shoulders lifting and neck arching as he speared into her to the hilt, driving deep into her tight warmth.  He grunted, his hands moving down her sides, caressing the swell of her breasts and the round curve of her hips.  She started to move beneath him as he took her, his hips driving powerfully, the sound of their union echoing throughout the tomb.  She lost all track of time in that coupling, knowing only that she was driven to two more orgasms before he had reached his first, such was the power of undead stamina.  When at last he had found his end, driving with one last, final and powerful thrust to empty his undead seed deep into her quivering body he simultaneously sank his teeth into her throat, piercing her carotid.  Zee gasped, clutching at him, her long legs wrapped about his middle tightening on him.  Dracula drank deeply, taking from her that which he needed to survive and when he had done, he lifted his head and saw her pale and lifeless, sprawled across the top of his coffin.

            Lifting his own wrist he bit deeply, bringing his vampiric blood pooling to the surface.  He pressed it to her soft lips, “Zatanna,” he whispered into her ear, “drink and share with me the life eternal!”  At first only her tongue moved, lapping at the vampire's blood and then she was sucking with abandon, reaching up and grasping at his wrist and drawing on his essence for all she was worth.  Perhaps it was her magical nature, but she could feel the power coursing through her veins, and she wanted more… she wanted it all!  He had to forcibly stop her from feeding and was surprised at her strength, understanding that he would have to be careful with this one.  Standing up he gazed down at the woman who was to be his newest bride.  She was certainly lovelier than any of the others, and when he had drank her blood he had shared her memories.  He knew what was happening in the world above and it intrigued him.  What also intrigued him was the visions he had seen of this woman’s friends, women who were, if such was even possible, even lovelier than her.  Especially the one she called… Diana.

            Scooping her off the lid of his coffin he willed the lid to rise up and then he lay her within it.  “It will take some time for the transformation to take effect.  Until then… we rest.”  He followed her into the coffin, laying down atop her nude form.

            Zatanna smiled wickedly at him, her long legs rising and locking about his hips as she slid her arms about his shoulders.  “The hell we do… master.”  Her lips found his as the lid closed over them.  The sounds of the lovers getting to know one another within the confines of his coffin could be heard echoing through the caverns and tunnels for hours after that….

To be continued….