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It happened in an instant, far quicker than she could react. For all his snarling and threats, Agatha had the vampire keening like a starving pup - helpless, angry, feral with hunger as her hand outstretched in an offering of her blood to his seeking tongue. She observed him with sudden calm appreciation as his eyelids hung heavy, feeling a fleeting swell of power that she nearly got to appreciate, even. But just as her grip lessened on the handle of the knife, prepared to drop it and back away and cease to taunt the beast while she was ahead of the game, those blackened eyes shot open and met hers with such mocking clarity that it halted her in her tracks, the triumph in her eyes faltering into sudden, heart-stopping dread.
It was too late, then. Agatha was too close, she’d known it, and had trusted that in his blind desperation for sustenance that the Count wouldn’t take note. She had been very wrong. Without so much as a growl, his hand shot out and grabbed for the knife and her hand all in one grip of his gigantic fist, yanking her over the ephemeral threshold, her feet barely skimming the ground with no chance of catching traction.
The screams and gasps from her sisters rose up behind her in chorus of panic, but even in all that chaos for a fraction of a second Dracula didn’t even acknowledge that he’d gotten the nun into his clutches, too occupied in using her hand as a vehicle to better press the sharpened steel to his tongue, licking it clean. It was only when she stepped back towards the “safety” of the iron gate and tried to yank herself free did she feel more than hear him chuckle in dark, mocking glee, and a gasp was torn from her throat, her world spinning as he pulled her into his grasp. Her back might as well have hit stone for all his bloodied chest gave on the impact that she felt rattle her own bones, both her upper arms suddenly constrained in a bruising grip. The knife lying useless on the ground near her feet, Agatha found herself forced to watch her sisters cower in terror and worse - look on her in pity.
“It seems fortune doesn’t always favor the brave, does it Sister?” He leered from behind and above her, grinning down at her in a manner that might have passed for charming had his teeth not been forged into sharp, jagged points. His breath smelled coppery and disturbingly sweet, and cringe from it though she did, for a strange, mad moment she almost wanted to ask him about it, before remembering that there were definitely more important things to worry about at the moment than understanding the vampiric anatomy. Currently the fact that she was forced very snugly against said anatomy and was probably about to die a very painful death for the luxury.
His focus left her quickly though, watching over her shoulder as the Mother Superior tried to force a brave face, her short frame standing in front of the gaggle of girls as though she could actually forge a barrier between them and danger. All but her.
“Well? What’re you waiting for, ladies? Your sister’s been captured, you’re all ‘armed and ready.’ You outnumber me, clearly.”
“Honestly, they’re nuns not idiots,” Agatha scoffed at him, before addressing them directly - just in case, seeing some of them start to stir antsily. “Stay back!”
“Come now. Not even one of you? What righteous warriors you make,” he continued to mock with disappointed laughter, laying out his lure as Agatha watched helplessly as her anxious sisters looked more unsure by the moment.
“Isn’t that what that god of yours is always going on about - self-sacrifice for the greater good, defending the helpless, blah blah...blah. You are knights, you have your swords, the frightened princess is seconds away from being eaten…”
“Oh please,” Agatha mocked, turning her head to glance between his self-satisfied smirk and the faces of her friends in frank disbelief.
“Who’s going to slay the dragon?” Dracula challenged in that melodious whisper, tightening his hold on her visibly, causing her to hiss as what could only be described as claws began to dig into her flesh through the thin fabric of her habit.
“Do not rise to his bait - he’s only trying to lure you out,” their matron, having gathered her wits, echoed her earlier sentiments, but with the authority to actually enforce them, and despite the sinking feeling in her gut, Agatha looked at her with genuine thanks as the girls began to slink back. She would not be the reason for their deaths, and that at least she could make peace with.
“Give it up, dragon - I’m the only nun you’re getting out of there tonight, so just kill me and get it over with,” she exclaimed stubbornly, turning her head to look up at him where he still stood behind her, watching the sisters retract with an exaggerated pout.
He laughed, throaty and low, turning her in his grasp to look her in the eye.
“Oh no one likes a martyr, Agatha - isn’t it?” he purred, and her eyes widened a margin at hearing her name on his lips.
“So you heard,” she persisted, squaring her jaw, not falling for any more of his intimidation tactics. How much worse could her circumstances really get, anyway?
She was armed, as well, to be fair. The wooden stake was in her pocket, and if he would just not grip her arms so tightly, she might have been able to put up some kind of fight - but as though he genuinely could read her mind, his grip on her left arm tightened to the point of bruising while his hold on her right turned feather light and faltered as he shifted his hold from her upper arm to her wrist, pulling her palm up to his mouth.
She had entirely forgotten she was still bleeding, but clearly the vampire had not, and the split flesh gave a sudden throb at the reminder, just before she felt him drag his tongue over the seeping wound, a hum of pleasure that was nothing short of obscene reverberating against her hand. She hissed, her fingers flinching in fruitless effort against his hold, though the sensation wasn’t exactly pain, even if it wasn’t far from it. It was a bizarre tingling that made her squirm, though there wasn’t anywhere to go. She cursed him under her breath in her native tongue and she was surprised to hear him chuckle, drawing back from her hand though he still held it aloft, never far from his lips.
“Ooh. You’re really not very good at this nun thing, are you, Agatha?” He asked mockingly, before looking up at the stars thoughtfully and licking his lips, her eyes drawn to watch his throat work and swallow in the firelight.
“Agatha Van Helsing where in the world did you come from?”
“You seem to know everything else, why don’t you tell me?” She shot back bitterly, fighting off the panic in her voice. So that’s all it took, a few drops of blood and her inner workings were laid bare to his prying eyes? Frightening, sure, but mostly infuriating.
“Holland, right?”
She glanced sideways at her sisters for a fleeting moment, and gave a nod to Mother Superior, hoping she would take his pre-occupation as a sign to begin to bring the other girls to safety, but she didn’t dare let her focus stray from the vampire long enough to watch.
“As I’m sure you heard in my accent. I know detectives that could volunteer twice that information in half the time. Surely you can tell me something more interesting than that.”
“Are you challenging me, Sister Agatha?” He asked, though despite the hint of a growl that still lingered in his voice, he looked wholly entertained by her open defiance despite the fact he could have killed her already. “You do enjoy dangerous games - you must be bored to tears in this place.”
“As though you don’t enjoy showing off,” she challenged dryly, looking him over with clear accusation, though her eyes didn’t stray past his chest before retreating upwards once more. “Come on. Tell me something I don’t know.”
Agatha watched as he took a moment to process what she could only assume were her own memories, seeing multiple small reactions flit over his features. She should've rightly tried to use this distraction to her advantage, feeling his grip on her lessen a hair - but she knew deep down it would just end in a quicker death for her in the end. She still wasn't sure if that would be her best option.
Surely it was the most Catholic choice she could make - but if she were going to sacrifice herself "for the greater good" as he had so quaintly put it, now was not the time. Not when she could learn more, and not when she was so sure to fail any attempt she could make to destroy him or even save herself.
Count Dracula's mouth suddenly broke into a wicked grin, ripping her from her thoughts. Not a good sign.
"And? Still waiting." She pressed, impatiently.
"Well, if it makes you feel better Agatha, your "training" might do your sisters some good after all," he stated musingly, watching a few of them retreat back within the walls of the convent, clearly unconcerned now with slowly but surely losing his audience.
"And why is that?'
His brows rose as he looked down at her almost fondly.
"Well, you left undead Johnny in the same room as his bleeding fiance, of course. I can't imagine his appetite taking long to surface. If you think I'm a fright when I'm hungry…"
Agatha had to fight back the urge curse again, if only because it would entertain him too greatly. Stupid stupid stupid…
"Jonathan Harker would sooner stake himself than harm Mina, you know that. Apparently it's all that moralistic willpower that made you so fond of him in the first place," Agatha dismissed him stubbornly.
The Count sighed, looking over her head towards the upper level of the nunnery.
"Mm. Truer words never spoken, I'm afraid - it'll distract him for a little while I suppose."
"What do you mean? Surely dying twice is enough," She asked, no longer hiding her concern.
"Curious little thing, aren't you?" He mused, almost inwardly, using his hold on her to drag her further back from the gate, so they were standing far out of earshot from the other nuns and they could see the flickering light in the window where Agatha had last abandoned his 'bride'. He held her fast against him with one long arm while he pointed up at the window. She might’ve seen a shadow pass just below her eyeline, but she couldn’t be sure.
"He tried. And failed. The undead cannot commit suicide. Call it a curse, if you will. He'll be out for a little while, definitely wish he were dead, but unless little Mina drives the stake in herself, he will wake up and when he does...he will be weak and he will be hungry. Now if you trained your troops well enough, maybe they'll be prepared…"
His head tilted, studying her face, which she was sure was full of many things for him to appraise, hating herself for it but far too distracted by her own thoughts to mask them. If she didn’t know better, his smirk almost retained a hint of pity.
“Or perhaps Johnny will surprise us both, he is a lively one. Now - “ he immediately led off from his passive attempt at comfort, turning her in his grasp so quickly, Agatha wondered if he was really so unaware of his own power or if he was still delighting in showing it off to her alone.
“I would ask you to invite me in, but we both know very well even if I promise not to slaughter your family that you won’t. Even if it means a rabid infantile vampire may tear a few of them limb from limb, you are far too stubborn to ever do anything that I ask of you, nor would you believe any promises I make,” the vampire began, sizing her up seemingly as he spoke with a chuckle as mocking as it was appreciative.
“Who would?”
“And threatening your inevitable death will get me nowhere, you religious types are always far too keen to sacrifice yourselves.”
“Trust me, Count Dracula, in comparison to hearing you babble nonsense for another half hour, it would hardly be a sacrifice,” Agatha spat out before she could help it, fruitlessly trying to create some distance between them despite his grip on her - she about cursed herself once more, but apparently instead of angering him, all she’d done is amuse him again.
He’d let out a surprised laugh, melodious and loud, so she was sure the others would’ve heard it from downwind. Wonderful, now if she ever did get back (unlikely) she’d have ‘consorting with the devil’ to deal with - more than usual.
“Agatha Van Helsing, what am I going to do with you?” He breathed, and she realized with mounting dread that he really didn’t even know himself.
“Honestly, you didn’t even have a plan when you showed up here, did you?” She couldn’t help but ask, furrowing her brows. Why was he so calm?
“I typically don’t need one, but it seems you wanted to make it difficult for me,” he stated softly, the accusation clear in his eyes, though it was almost playful in nature now.
Without the growling, bestial thing that had met her at the gate, she was just being held by a bloody, naked aristocrat staring down at her with a fondness that was completely foreign, and she found herself more disturbed by his approval than his threats. Those she had expected, this...she wasn’t sure how to navigate.
“Do you think your sisters would be so brave without you? Should I find out?”
Even seeing that he was baiting her, Agatha knew there was literally nothing stopping him. He could kill her now, just to get her out of the way. Probably preferable, because otherwise he could just disable her. Knock her unconscious, break her leg, rip out of her tongue - whatever would stop her from stopping him. And the sad truth was that she didn’t know. Most of those girls were young, helpless things, just there for intimidation in numbers. They would crumple in the face of genuine threat, no matter how strong their belief or their wills.
“Leave them alone, and I will come with you willingly.”
“Who says I want you to?” He returned too quickly, his face a mask of indifference, though the curiosity twinkling in his eyes was a dead give away to his intention. He just wanted to see how she would respond. To see if she would show desperation, or weakness. He was toying with her, just like she had toyed with him. God help her, for her sisters’ sake, she was going to have to let him. For now.
“You have a long way to travel, Count Dracula. And while I’m sure you can manipulate Jonathan into doing whatever you like, having a half-crazed ‘infantile vampire’ in your charge for a long voyage would only draw attention to you and fail to provide you any sustenance. Besides, no one in there would be any use to you. Most of them have spent their entire existence locked within those walls. Their lives are hymns and prayers and chores and guilt and nothing else whatsoever. Take me and you might actually learn something.”
“Perhaps. But you would also try to kill me the first chance you get,” he accused in a whisper, that hint of wicked amusement still never leaving his voice. Apparently attempted murder was a novelty to for him.
“Are you saying that actually frightens you?” She accused, quirking an eyebrow, turning his challenge back on him.
“Careful,” Dracula warned, eyes narrowing as his grip on her tightened a hair, apparently capping his amusement at being called a coward, though he didn't disagree directly - information she decided to retain for later. If she would see later.
He was silent for a long moment, enough to begin to worry her that he'd refuse her entirely. But slowly his lips twisted up into a satisfied, if resigned smirk, taking one last look up into that window before returning his focus to her fully.
"You drive a hard bargain, Van Helsing, but I suppose you do have a point. The devout do always leave a bit of an...aftertaste."
He let loose one of her arms, at least, though immediately reached up and pulled at the ties of the white fabric that was serving its purpose, blocking her throat from his view, yanking it and her wimple from her head in one swift motion, that pulled at her hair and made her yelp slightly. His lips twitched, but he seemed to choose not to acknowledge it.
“But you nuns tend to draw a lot of attention in your own right, especially while unconscious…”
“I’m sorry?” she clarified irritably, still narrowing her eyes as she used her free hand to push her hair from her face. She considered using it to slap him with instead, but considering she would likely just end up with a broken hand for her trouble, she resisted the urge.
“Oh, I’m not going to have you straggling along behind me out in the mountains, Agatha, that would be positively uncouth. You understand…” he drawled, his gaze having dropped from her eyes and now locked onto the column of her throat with that same heavy-lidded intensity she saw at the gates. Feeling his large hand tracing her collarbone, she swallowed, forcing herself to be still as he loomed over her, now even more so than before it seemed.
“How kind of you,” she snarked, though her words were no longer registering to him at all, and she watched in the lantern light as his eyes clouded with red once more, and those long, cold fingers curled around the base of her neck, making her shiver.
“Don’t worry, I’m going to make you last,” he assured her with finality, that bestial snarl thickening his voice once again, and the last thing she felt before sinking into a hazy sleep was the sting of sharp teeth sinking into her flesh, followed by that same tingling she’d felt earlier, until she felt nothing at all.
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