The Seven Seals of Egypt

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A dense fog swirled and thickened beyond the edge of town, seeping inside the blurred boundaries with questing fingers as cold as ice. The midnight darkness, already close to impenetrable, congealed until it resembled a living, breathing, shambling thing. All noise was muted, and the views across the valleys toward what they now knew was Dracula’s castle were reduced to a creeping white mist pressed up against the window panes as if seeking a way inside.

A crackling fire warmed the inside of the large room, embers spitting in the hearth like angry demons, a chorus line of bright orange flames dancing along the walls and on the ceiling. The crackling pop and bang of timbers filled the room like gunshots, putting the gathering on edge.

“We can’t stay here,” Torsten Dahl said.

“We ain’t going anywhere.” Hayden nodded at the nearest window.

“Yeah, get a grip, Torsty,” Alicia Myles croaked in a mock-frightened voice. “It’s impossible to say what’s lurking about in that mist.”

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