Chapter Text
Free.
He was… free.
Dare he say it, actually free… dare he even think it? Dare he let such luxury cross his mind? Renfield opened his eyes and was met with the bright colours of his apartment walls, the vivid clashing luminosity of it bringing an almost instant smile to his face.
He actually had done it.
Not only had he done it, but he’d done it with a friend. With a friend who wanted to be with him, around him… Rebecca made his smile even bigger. She’d learned everything about him and, instead of running away, she’d helped him cut Dracula to pieces, put him into tiny blocks of cement, and wash him down the drains into the sewers. Renfield closed his eyes and stretched languidly at the thought. Get yourself back from that one, you old wretch, he thought happily.
It occurred to Renfield that his life was now his own, and that meant he didn’t need to hide from anything. Anyone… He could come and go as he pleased. He had access to all of Dracula’s abundant wealth, and knew enough about modern-day banking to be able to make the most of it… posterity.
Perhaps Dracula would one day come back and cut him to pieces… but that would be centuries from now. As he lay there, grinning to himself, his phone buzzed loudly. Scrambling for it, a text from Rebecca.
Hey Bug Boy. Got the day off. Wanna grab coffee and hang out for a bit?
Renfield, still grinning, typed out a thoughtful reply.
I would love to! Where shall I meet you?
He added some emojis to the end (he loved those little things), including several beautiful flowers, and then sat up.
10.30 at Mykie’s?
Renfield sent a thumbs-up emoji back, and practically danced into the bathroom.
--
“So… your first proper day of freedom. How did you sleep?” Rebecca eyed him through her sunglasses.
“Fitfully. I kept thinking it would all be a dream, and that I’d wake up and he’d be there, and he’d punish me for it.” Renfield stirred the soft, cloud-like foam on his iced cappuccino. “It’s still odd to me that he’s gone forever.”
“Forever… does that mean you’re not immortal anymore?”
“I don’t know.” Renfield gave a shrug. “Maybe? I still took his blood. That means I still have his power… I don’t know if it came from him being alive or what.”
“What… I’m concerned about… you know, in the books and stories, when he kills someone and they come back? How many vampires has he created?” Rebecca sipped her drink.
“He told me he’s the top one. The King. The first one. That he did a deal with the devil, or something… and any that are made from him, he can feel. He’s always said I’m the only one he’s ever kept around. I’m the last one, I suppose.”
“Doesn’t that bother you?”
“That there’s only one immortal murderer in the world now? No, Rebecca, it doesn’t bother me at all. Because I’m not going to be responsible for anyone else dying.” Renfield took a sip of his drink as though to prove his point. “No more bugs, no more dead people, no more blood.”
“Even if that means you’re totally human?”
“Call me sentimental, but I rather miss being totally human.” He gave her a soft, small smile. “The little nuances of it. The power’s nice, sure… but to be human. To err, to fail, to not have that…” he gestured. “I’ve been unkillable for ninety years. I want to fear for my life again. I want to be afraid to die again. I want a purpose.”
“Well… a pretty good place to start could be therapy.”
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it. Everything you’ve been through and overcome? You want to help people rather than kill them… why don’t you go to school? Train to become a therapist?”
“I c-couldn’t help like that, I don’t think.” Renfield pressed his lips together.
“You so could! Come on – you’re a great guy! And you’ve got tonnes of experience! You said you’re, what… one-hundred twenty years old?! That accounts for so much!” Renfield squirmed a little in his seat. She was right. It would be an amazing way to help people. And since he was finally free of Dracula, and therefore able to draw boundaries that would be respected… well, the world for him was endless. And maybe he could die…? “Come on! What is there to lose?!”
“You’re right! You’re right. I should… I could. I can!”
“There you go!” Rebecca raised her glass to him. “Robert Renfield, therapist and Dickhead survivor!” Renfield chuckled softly, shaking his head.
A little while later, Renfield and Rebecca were sat wheezing with laughter, lunch plates between them, empty. They’d watched an episode of a TV show together, Renfield finally understanding what it was to ‘hang out’. Netflix and chill had been his idea (he’d heard it a couple of times), and he was astounded – and a little embarrassed – to learn what it actually meant. But Rebecca had pulled out her iPad, propped it up on the wall, and given him her other AirPod.
“I think you might be able to take another lil’ step, Renfield,” Rebecca murmured. She gestured discreetly to a young lady sat opposite them, engrossed in a book. As Renfield looked at her, the world seemed to slow down. The way the sunshine gleamed off her dark hair… the way that same sunshine lit up the angles on her face just so… the way her teeth bit her rose-pink lip… something in the book made her chuckle. Renfield swallowed.
“Not my… er… oh…” the girl glanced up at him and made eye contact. Renfield’s heart skipped a beat. He looked down, flushed. “Not really my thing, Rebecca.”
Rebecca misread the entire thing. She sat up.
“God! Oh, shit! I’m so sorry – I didn’t even think, you know?! I just – I assumed – your wife and all that –“
“What?” Renfield looked at her, confused. “My wife is dead. She’s been dead a while, actually. And I have a granddaughter, but my daughter died…” He shrugged. “I looked them up once, but I didn’t make contact.”
“No… I didn’t… I meant…” Rebecca sighed, removing her sunnies. “You’re gay.”
“Gay? I’m… quite gay, I suppose, sitting – oh, wait… no, you mean the other gay…” An acute nod of the head from a very embarrassed Rebecca. “I don’t think I am…” Renfield ran a hand over his hair. “I don’t actually know, Rebecca. I mean, when I was growing up – the time I’m comfortable with – it was frowned upon immensely to be that way. But the world is so much more forgiving now… and I did love Dracula…”
“Wait…” Rebecca stared at him. She leaned in, hissing “Did you guys ever… like – you guys did it?!” Renfield turned the colour of the strawberries they’d had for dessert. He closed his eyes and nodded.
“Why do you think it was so hard for me to carry on as we were?” he asked softly. He dared a glance at her, but shame got the better of him. “I loved him. I was his thrall, Rebecca. I was his. I adored being his…”
“Right…”
“And I didn’t quite love my wife. I never understood why, but Dracula showed me the life I wanted, and then I understood… and then he took me into his bed a few times, and I thought I understood why… but then… well, I don’t know… there was always something that happened when we… you know…”
“He drugged you?”
“No! God, no. Didn’t need to.” Renfield squirmed properly. His voice faded. “I went willingly… but I think I liked being wanted by something that could kill me…” He cleared his throat. “Truth is, I don’t know what I like. It’s been around fifty years since he last took me to his bed, and I’ve never really had time to explore women. Not that he would have cared if I did, but I didn’t ever want to risk catching feelings.”
“Why not?”
“Because he tended to drain the ones I liked dry.”
“Shit…”
“Mhm.”
A moment of silence passed between them. Renfield thought back to the times he’d had with Dracula. The way the man had dominated him. The way he’d taken what he’d wanted, and given Renfield a high so strong that he thought his heart had truly stopped, and whatever was left of his soul had departed his body and gone to distant shores… But what he’d longed for the most was Dracula’s attention. The attention, the want, the need… the dependency on him. Try as he might over the years, he wanted to be curled up on his master’s lap again. With Dracula, he hadn’t needed to think. He hadn’t needed to be much more than Renfield, broken-minded little servant who Dracula looked at with that look, the understanding that someone would die… the power that had once given to Renfield had been intoxicating… but the lack of affection, coupled with the constant demands… Renfield had gone from being the kitten at the cat’s cream fur, to being the unwanted hinderance of a hunting dog locked up outside in a box, waiting for the next hunt to be doted on.
That had been why it had soured. Dracula had lost interest… Renfield had lost his sparkle.
He wanted to shine for someone.
“I want someone to look at me and see me and want me,” Renfield whispered. A tear rolled down his cheek. His wife hadn’t ever seen him the way he wanted to be seen. She’d been weaker-willed than he was… and she’d relied on him for everything, purely because she couldn’t do anything for herself. Worse, when she fell pregnant, because every little change in her body made her sure, so sure, that she was on the very brink of death. And God forbid her daughter cough from some mis-swallowed water, or so much as sneeze. The child was wrapped up in bed and treated for whatever malady took her mother’s anxiety that week. It was suffocating… that’s why Renfield scarpered.
“Well… she sure as hell keeps a-lookin’,” Rebecca sand, nudging him. “Go say hi! Get her number!”
“She won’t want me.”
“Ah, yes. Obviously you swallowed an accidental mosquito or something and have your Dracula powers back to read her mind.” She hit him lightly in the arm. “Go! Say hi. You’re enough, you have enough to offer, blah, blah…” Renfield stood when Rebecca started hitting him over and over. The girl had indeed been glancing over every now and again, smiling coyly at him. He approached, and then it occurred to him that he had nothing for her. No flowers, no sweet poem… he had no idea how to court a woman these days. He stopped and turned, eyeing a beautiful patch of blossoms. He picked a couple and headed over nervously.
“I, erm… sorry to b-bother… you…” he began. The girl looked up at him. Sweet doe eyes that sparkled in the sun. Although she sat under the shade of an umbrella… he smiled nervously. His hands shook. “I… I saw you from over there – my name’s Robert Montague Renfield… I…” he ran a trembling hand through his hair.
“Hello, Robert Montague Renfield,” she said softly. “I’m Abigail Victoria Barnes.” She smiled sweetly at him, closing her book on her finger. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and smoothed her dress’s skirts out a little. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Renfield breathed. “May I sit?”
“Please.” Abigail turned a little, eyeing him a little warily. She reminded him of the young women in the park, young debutantes who fretted over looking their best to attract a good husband, and marry quickly. Docile and timid… and Dracula’s preferred dining experience… the voice made him pale. Was that – his voice?! Or Renfield’s own thoughts?! He closed his eyes.
“Mr Renfield? Are you alright?” There was something distinctly old-fashioned about Abigail, in the same vein that Renfield himself was old-fashioned. Renfield was an old soul – literally – trapped in the body of a thirty-two-year-old, encased in the fashions of the modern day.
“Yes… forgive me, I don’t do this so often… I’m a little…”
“Afraid?” she ventured, when he trailed off. A soft, small hand rested on his. “Don’t be.”
“I… oh…” he looked down at their hands. He turned his, taking hers properly. “Thank you… I… hope you like tulips?”
“Oh, I do! I come here often to look at them when they’re in bloom.” Renfield offered her the four stems he’d chosen. Abigail took them and smiled sweetly up at him. “Thank you, Mr Renfield.”
“I… was wondering if… if maybe you’d like to go… for dinner?” Renfield swallowed. Trying to translate this into modern day speak was so difficult… Abigail blushed beautifully.
“Tonight?” she asked, hiding behind the blooms coquettishly. Renfield nodded. Why not tonight? He had no deranged psychotic vampire to feed… “I’d love to.” Renfield’s face lit up.
“Perfect!” he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “May I take your number?”
“Oh… sure.” Abigail pulled out a phone and scrolled through some numbers. “Sorry. I don’t do very well with numbers.” She laughed nervously. “My brain shuts down with anything after four numbers… I’m not sure why…”
“That’s alright,” Renfield said softly. He was very, very good with numbers. She offered him her phone, where ‘my number’ sat at the top of the screen. He typed it into his phone and rang her, just like Rebecca had done to his phone. “There… I’ll… see you tonight, then, Miss Barnes? At… at six, perhaps?”
“I look forward to it,” Abigail smiled. As he turned and walked away, Abigail shook her head. “Mr Renfield? I don’t know where I’m supposed to meet you?”
“Oh! Yes… right! Of course!” He looked at Rebecca, who was furiously typing a text. He read it after a couple of seconds, and smiled. “Eddy’s Diner?”
“Sounds perfect.”
With a hasty kiss on the cheek, and a lot of awkward blushing, Renfield darted back to the safety of Rebecca, who was now stood away from their table, having paid the tab. He jumped a little with joy, then realised he was still holding Abigail’s phone.
“You really have no clue how to act, do you?” Rebecca shook her head. “And she’s gone, too. Somehow. At least you’ll see her tonight.”
“I hope she turns up.”
“She’ll have to. Some creepy young old dude stole her phone.” Rebecca nudged him in the ribs. “But look at you go, dude! You scored! You got a date!”
“I have a date…” Renfield said softly. He gazed off into the distance, smiling. Friends… an apartment… and now a date… Life truly was looking up for him.
So this is freedom…