Vlad was aware of the way dreams worked in the building, and he had never quite forgotten his encounter with Emil all those months ago - but no one had intruded upon his dreams in quite some time, so it had ceased to become a major worry.
Until now, that is.
He could sense the arrival of someone else; an intruder, someone who didn't belong here. Although the content of his dream could have been much worse, faceless female mannequins impaled on spikes wasn't exactly innocent. He suspected that he knew who they were meant to represent, although it wasn't something he would ever admit to. His head turned slowly, almost leisurely, as though Vlad was generally unperturbed by the fact that he was no longer alone. His gaze locked on Aiden's with instant recognition, and he felt a flame of bitter hatred that was far too old to have belonged to him.
For a moment he just looked at him, the man who wanted him dead both as himself and Van Helsing. Vlad wondered which one of his loved ones he'd killed, whether it was his wife or his sister or perhaps even a daughter. He would give no apology and seek no redemption, because it was too late for any of that. Now, there was only this.
"Hello." That single word was spoken calmly and devoid of emotion, simply a means to begin the inevitable.