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“Are you well, Miss…?” the vampire asks.
“Maria,” she answers, looking up at their savior in awe. “Renard. Are you really the Alucard from the stories?”
“I told you those were fake,” Richter shoots back, seemingly on instinct. “You can’t be real. My mother told me you locked yourself away after the battle with Dracula, to forever rid the land of Dracula’s cursed bloodline!”
“Fact is often queerer than fiction, Richter Belmont,” the vampire says, with a small, wry twist to his lips. “Do you have somewhere you can go to treat your wounds? We’d best get out of sight before they return with reinforcements.”
“I - Maybe, but I don’t even know you are who you say you are!” Richter protests. “How do we know we can trust you?”
The vampire tilts his head. “Would I have killed this so-called Messiah’s right-hand woman if I meant you harm?”
He shakes his head. “Regardless, I may have the proof of trustworthiness you seek. I know a family secret about Sypha Belnades that I have used before with Belmonts. Do you know the secret?”
“Yeah,” Richter says, clearly caught off-guard. He glances at Mizrak. “Not sure I want a man of the church hearing about it, though.”
“I find men of the church are rarely what they appear,” the vampire replies.
He glances at Mizrak, who pales, and he adds, “You need not worry, sir. Your secrets will remain your own.
“The first child of Sypha Belnades was born out of wedlock,” the vampire says to Richter. “Outsiders were told they married on the road, before returning to Belmont lands. They actually married in June of 1477.”
“Fine,” Richter says. “I guess that’s enough for now, vampire or not.”
“Dhampir, actually,” Alucard corrects, glancing over his shoulder at the eclipse. “Not that it matters now. Your hiding place?”
“My grandfather’s house,” Richter says. “All the vampires that know about it are dead, so far as I know, but we probably still shouldn’t stay long.”
“It would be wise to invite him along,” Alucard acknowledges. “Báthory’s vampires won’t tolerate a Belmont nearby for long, regardless of the threat he poses.
“Lead the way, then.”
“Báthory's vampires?” Annette asks as they walk.
“One thing Belmonts seem to forget from time to time is that not all vampires are homicidal maniacs,” Alucard says mildly, falling into step with Maria. She glances at him, surprised and a bit nervous, but he merely continues, “They aren’t exactly inclined to like vampire hunters, especially ones who decide that the wanton extermination of the supernatural is the appropriate path, but there are plenty who live quiet lives that don’t involve murder. They simply go unnoticed most of the time.”
“Is that what you’ve been doing, then?” Richter asks. He still sounds inordinately suspicious, in her opinion.
“Sometimes," Alucard replies. "Others, I've been hunting down vampires who are homicidal. But I don’t think that’s what you’re asking.”
There are hints of a distinctly arch tone peeking out from his courtesy. Maria thinks she likes it, but she’s too busy trying to keep her balance to contribute to the chastising. She might be up and walking, but she’s still kind of dizzy and they aren't following a trail.
“I do not require human blood to survive,” Alucard informs them after a moment. “It is advantageous, but only a necessity when I am severely injured. It’s been years since I’ve drank any.”
“Huh,” Richter says. “Didn’t know that about dhampirs.”
“Most know little about dhampirs,” Alucard acknowledges. “They’re rare, and my parentage makes me unique even among them.”
“You -” Maria starts, then trips over a root.
A strong arm catches her, and she blushes when she realizes who it belongs to. He’s very pretty up close.
“I thought you seemed dizzy,” Alucard says, keeping a steadying hand on her arm as she straightens. “Are you sure you’re alright to walk alone?”
“Maria?” Richter asks, coming over to her other side.
“We can keep going,” Maria assures them. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” Richter and Alucard chorus, then look at each other in surprise.
“She took a hit to the head,” Mizrak explains, breaking the weird tension.
“I have medical knowledge,” Alucard says. “I work as a doctor when I’m not hunting vampires. If you come with me to the place I’m staying at, I can take care of your injuries.”
“Well, aren’t you convenient?” Richter quips.
A strange almost-smile crosses the dhampir’s face at that, sad but undeniably amused.
“What’s that look about?” Annette asks.
Alucard is silent for a moment, eyes distant. Then he looks to Richter and says, “I was remembering some of the things your ancestor Trevor called me. Some variation of “floating vampire Jesus” was not uncommon. Not that I ever called myself such, but well. There was a prophecy. They tend to be grandiose.”
Mizrak snorts, surprised into mirth. “The prophecy called you ‘vampire Jesus’?”
“Not Jesus, but something along the lines of ‘savior’ or ‘messiah’,” Alucard responds. “The Wallachian version of the prophecy had some distinctly religious overtones if I remember correctly.
“It didn’t mention me being half-vampire, either. That part was a surprise to everyone.”
“I cannot imagine the Belmont was happy about that,” Annette says, eyeing him suspiciously.
"No, but years on the road had made him more… what's the word… more open-minded and pragmatic than his parents. I was very lucky."
Alucard says the last sentence softer than the rest, and sadder, Maria thinks.
"Your French is very good," Maria notes as a distraction.
He glances at her, seeming surprised by the change of subject. “Thank you. French was one of the first languages I learned as a child, and I have spent enough time in the country to speak it well. But as you said, it is not my first language.”
“What was?” Maria asks.
He smiles wistfully. “My mother’s dialect of Wallachian. A version of it is still around today, but… well. Little is as I remember it, especially of late. Yours is far from the only revolution in the past century or two.”
“I don’t get how you can not be angry about it, and yet my own father -” Maria stops, pressing a hand to her head as her headache flares.
“Try not to get too worked up,” the dhampir says, watching her cautiously as they continue. “It’s bad for the concussion.
“Your father and I have likely led very different lives,” Alucard adds. “I have the benefit of experiences he likely doesn’t. I certainly have a view of history he doesn’t. Change is the way of the world, but that is a fact that some find themselves unable to confront.”
“Also, he’s a pompous jerk,” Richter interjects.
“He is the abbot,” Mizrak counters.
“Those certainly aren’t mutually exclusive,” Alucard notes, the wry humor poking through once again. “Men of the church have always feared and opposed anything that could take away their power.
“It is probably more complicated than that, of course. Philosophical differences between family members usually are.”
“Is that what you call what happened between you and your father?” Richter quips.
The dhampir’s eyes flick to Richter, still not smiling, exactly, but seemingly amused. “It was a bit more than that, I would say. But his madness was built on beliefs he held long before my mother’s death. I have never been as optimistic about humanity as my mother was, but I have always leaned more towards her point of view. So yes, we had differences before he tried to bring about the end of humankind.”
“What is your philosophy on humanity, then, Alucard ?” Richter asks.
“That much of humanity is still ignorant and cruel,” Alucard says, looking off into the distance. “But there is good to be found amongst them, and that good must be protected, and nurtured so it may grow.”
His lips quirk. “‘The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.’”
“A vampire quoting the Bible,” Mizrak says. “Now there’s something I never thought I’d hear.”
“I have spent many of my years living alongside Christians,” Alucard replies. “It is useful to know the word of God. And even if I do not worship him, I know his power.”
The introduction with Juste goes about as well as expected.
They’re gone before long, along with what weapons and meager provisions Juste can provide, continuing into the woods.
“Alucard?” Maria asks, bringing a hand up to her head again as her headache turns splitting. “How far is it to your place?”
The dhampir takes one look at her and says, “Please, sit.”
“You can’t keep going like this, Maria,” Richter says, crouching beside her. “Please let me carry you.”
“I have a horse I could fetch as well,” Alucard offers. “It would give me a chance to scout ahead and ensure there won’t be any unpleasant surprises waiting for us when we arrive. I didn’t offer earlier because I thought a horse’s gait might be unpleasant, with your head the way it is.”
“It couldn’t get worse,” Maria groans. “Please bring the horse.”
“Very well.” The dhampir glances around. “This appears to be as good a place as any to stop. Wait here.”
Then he’s gone.
“Well, he’s definitely a vampire,” Juste grumbles. “I guess now we hope he doesn’t return with vampire friends.”
“It’s a big house,” Maria says, looking up at the structure. A big house, and a barn behind it, both structures simply-made but far from shoddy.
“It belonged to a family of successful farmers, once,” Alucard says, glancing up at the structure, and then out into the surrounding forest and field. “I’ve been here long enough that the clinic now takes up much of the lower floor. l spend a majority of my time in Wallachia but I stay for a while whenever I come to France.”
He takes out his keys and unlocks the door, then the door opens and there’s the hiss of the dhampir disappearing.
He reappears with a bow and arrows in one hand and gives Richter his keys with the other. “Explore where you like. I have nothing to hide, and I trust you are not the type to read my journal. I will be back in a moment to look at your wounds but I think I hear dinner in the woods.”
The contents of the house, like the tack of the horse she’d arrived on, are old but well-maintained. Finely wrought, yet practical. Possessions made to last.
Alucard returns shortly after with a deer slung over one shoulder.
“You are the only one uninjured,” he says to Juste. “Would you mind? I have a station out back you can use.”
Richter steps closer, honing in on the deer’s neck. “Haven’t had any for years, you said.”
“I never said anything about animal blood,” the dhampir smoothly replies. “I think it’s best I keep my strength up, given the circumstances.”
“Fair enough.”
“I’ll butcher the beast,” Juste says, though he doesn’t look pleased about it.
Free from his coat, cloak, and gloves, with his sleeves rolled up and his hair tied back, Alucard feels less intimidating than he had first appeared.
“You’ve had no back or neck pain?”
“Just an ache in my neck. No worse than when I sleep in a bad position.”
His fingers are slightly cool when they touch her neck, moving up her spine. “No pain when I press here?”
Maria shakes her head, then winces.
“Hm.” Fingers press against her head, where she can tell an ugly bruise has already formed.
“Ow!”
“Apologies,” Alucard says, pulling his hand back. “I had to make sure you hadn’t fractured your skull. Though I can’t be completely certain. You’ve swelled up quite a bit already.”
He glances back at Richter and Annette. “We will have to keep watch over you tonight. Head wounds like this can be quite dangerous, but the worst should be behind us if you make it through the night without change. There is not much I can do for you other than give you something for the pain and inflammation, I’m afraid. Your brain will heal itself with rest.
“I’ll get you some ice for the bruise now and mix up something for you to drink after I am done with your friends.”
Maria wakes in the night to a hand on her shoulder, startled by the sight of golden eyes that seem to glow in the moonlight.
“You were about to roll over onto your injured side,” the dhampir says in explanation. “And anyway, it’s best to wake people in the night after a serious head injury, just to check their cognition hasn’t changed. How do you feel?”
“My head hurts,” she says with a frown. “I don’t feel… confused, if that’s what you mean.”
“Can you tell me the date?” Alucard asks.
“May… 15th, I think? The days have kind of blurred together lately. It’s 1792.”
“It’s the 16th, but close enough,” Alucard allows.
Maria blinks, distracted by another shine of gold. “You’re wearing a ring.”
“Yes.” The dhampir’s voice goes soft as he looks down at his hand. “I was feeling sentimental, I suppose.”
“I heard a secret Speaker story once, from a group that came from the east,” she quietly mentions, voice almost a whisper. “The Speaker said you stayed, after Dracula’s death. She said you three were…”
“Lovers,” Alucard says softly, grief crossing his face like a lightning strike. It’s there and gone again before his expression settles back into its usual calm. “It is good to know that the Speakers still pass down the truth of the matter, even if the Belmonts have not.”
“I’m going to be stuck recovering for a while, I guess,” Maria says with a yawn. “You could tell me the real story if you want?”
That finally gets a real smile out of him, albeit a small one. “I think I would like that. Sleep well, Maria.”
“To understand the story of Dracula’s war and its aftermath, it is probably best to give you some background first. For my parents and my relationship with them, but also for the other subjects of the tale.” Alucard glances between Juste and Richter. “Even for those of you who have learned Belmont history, it seems some details have been lost to time.”
Juste grunts, not looking up from his weapon. He, Richter, and Mizrak are cleaning their weapons while Annette makes a simple meal in the kitchen, close enough to hear the tale. Alucard himself is darning socks, an oddly domestic task compared to everything Maria has seen him do so far. But then again, he lives alone. She supposes someone needs to do the darning.
“Trevor Belmont grew up in a family that appeared normal enough to him, with the obvious exception of the monster hunting. They were nobility in Wallachia until the Archbishop excommunicated them. They were accused of practicing magic and consorting with creatures of the night. Neither of which were exactly wrong , if the contents of the Belmont Hold are to be believed, though Trevor didn’t know that at the time. There’s ample evidence there was magic in the Belmont line before Sypha. The occasional journal documenting interactions between Belmonts and creatures of the night that didn’t involve bloodshed, as well.”
“A Belmont would never conspire with a creature of the night,” Richter retorts.
“I didn’t say conspire ,” Alucard counters. “The Belmonts certainly weren’t plotting with creatures of the night to terrorize the populace or using dark magic to curse local children like the church accused. But most things turn out to be more complex than they appear, and the Belmonts were no exception.”
Richter grunts but says nothing.
“But as I said, the church accused them of evil, and the locals believed the church. So one night when Trevor was twelve, a mob assembled and burned the Belmont Estate to the ground. Trevor was the only one who is known to have survived that night.”
“That’s horrid,” Maria breathes. She’d known, vaguely, that Trevor had been the only one left, but she hadn’t known how awful it had been.
Alucard arches an eyebrow. “You may want to consider that more than one family has been destroyed in this revolution you so admire, then.”
“I -” Maria doesn’t know what to say to that. “I would never condone the murder of children!”
Alucard shrugs. “I do not mean to unequivocally condemn the revolution, merely to point out that it isn’t really possible to come out of one with your hands clean. Equity is a goal that should always be aspired to, but the guillotine has taken the heads of quite a few children’s parents.
“Perhaps it is a necessity, from the viewpoint of history, but such bloodshed isn’t something to be celebrated.”
“I don’t see any other choice,” Maria protests.
“There may not be,” Alucard acknowledges. “But we have gotten distracted. The Belmonts burned, and for the next decade, Trevor was persecuted for his family name. Hounded out of town at best, nearly murdered at worst.”
His lips quirk briefly. “I imagine he was also hounded out of town once or twice by people who didn’t know he was a Belmont. He wasn’t the best at knowing when to keep his mouth shut. He got into a bar fight the night before we met, in fact.”
Maria giggles. “Sounds like a Belmont.”
“I’m not that bad!” Richter protests.
“He was a product of his adolescence,” Alucard agrees. “I’m sure you aren’t that bad. Same pride in the family name, though.”
He sighs, pausing in apparent consideration. “My adolescence was considerably different.
“I grew up Adrian Tepes, son of Vlad and Lisa Tepes. They were loving parents to me, and deeply in love with each other as well. Too in love, perhaps, for my father’s part. For him, my human mother was what made humanity worth his consideration. For my human mother, humanity was what she dedicated her life to. My father taught her medical science lost to the ages, and she worked as a doctor for the people of her hometown. My parents passed that science down to me, along with knowledge on many other topics. They raised me with one foot in the human world and one in the vampire world and tried their hardest to make up for the fact that I wasn’t truly welcome in either.
“I was aware of my father’s power, of course. He never hid it from me that he was Lord of the Vampires. He was the most powerful vampire in the world by quite a large margin. I inherited power far beyond that of any other dhampir. Few beyond my parents were aware of that, however. In my earlier years, it meant that my father’s name was the only reason most vampires even pretended to show me respect. But then my mother died, and it became useful to be underestimated.
“I was nineteen when I returned from a hunt to find my mother’s house in flames.”
Maria gasps, bringing a hand to her mouth. “You’re not seriously saying…”
Alucard nods. “I followed her to Targoviste and watched her beg for humanity to be spared as her captors burned her at the stake.”
“Fuck,” Richter says, stopping his work to look up at the dhampir in shock. “I never heard about that part.”
“Not many people knew I was in Targoviste even back then,” Alucard acknowledges. “I’m not surprised that was forgotten.
“My father appeared in the flames and threatened them with doom in one year. I had an object on my person that could transport me to the castle through one of its magic mirrors. I went straight to his work room, where I overheard him speaking of summoning an army from hell. I confronted him.”
Alucard brings a hand to his chest, as if by instinct. “In a fit of rage, he split me open from shoulder to hip with his claw.”
“Fucking hell,” Richter says, eyes wide.
“How did you survive?” Maria asks, shocked.
“A human wouldn’t have,” Alucard acknowledges. “I managed to stumble downstairs, where I knew there were stores of blood. I drank enough that I wasn’t in immediate danger of dying, then fled to my private chambers under Gresit. I spent the next year in a coma, healing my wounds and regaining my strength.”
“A whole year ?” Annette asks, skeptical. It’s the first time she’s spoken during the telling, but Maria supposes this is all new to her.
“As has been established, I am not human,” Alucard says, a wry twist to his lips. “Magical vampire comas don’t work quite like human ones.”
He gets through Trevor and Sypha’s meeting, the chase through Gresit, and the fall into the catacombs before Annette gives the call to dinner.
“The hand of God is in your story, vampire,” Mizrak says as they sit down. “There is no way you would all be in the same place at the same time, otherwise.”
“Fate, I suppose,” Alucard allows. “There was a prophecy, after all. But I’m not so sure about God. According to His priests, he doesn’t put much stock in Speakers, excommunicants, and creatures of the night.”
“For someone who insists he is half-human, you sure call yourself a creature of the night a lot,” Annette points out.
“It's what most humans see me as,” the dhampir reflects. “And I have always identified more with creatures of the night culturally, I suppose. Their views on women, same-sex attraction, and even knowledge itself… they are more aligned with my own. I can find welcome among some of them, too. Like I said, they aren’t all homicidal. It can be refreshing to spend some time around people who won’t judge me for my vampire side.
“They’re more likely to be around my age, as well,” he adds after a moment. “It can be a strange experience, being so much older than everyone around you.
"But enough about me. I still haven't heard much about you five, after all this time."
He’s capable of being surprisingly personable for someone who spends so much time alone, Maria reflects. Then again, she supposes he was raised like a lord’s son, and they’re all about entertaining.
“Lot of dead mothers at the table,” Richter says, clipped, which brings Maria back to exactly what she’s been avoiding thinking about.
“I see,” Alucard says softly.
“God, Richter, why did you have to put it like that?” Maria asks, burying her face in her hands as tears suddenly spring to her eyes.
Richter puts an arm around her shoulders. “Sorry. Stupid of me.”
“I’d been uncertain of exactly what had happened to Maria’s mother,” Alucard says quietly.
“That - vampire, goddess, whatever the fuck - she turned her,” Richter says tightly.
“You’re certain?”
“Báthory was drinking from her, last I saw,” Richter says quietly. “But yeah. Báthory said that was her plan. Terra volunteered. To save Maria.”
“I… have thoughts,” Alucard says. “But now is not the time. I’m so sorry for what happened to your mother, Maria.”
“No,” Maria disagrees, looking up as she blinks back tears. “I want to hear them. You’d know better than us what’s happened to her. Right?”
Alucard nods, gazing thoughtfully into his glass of wine. “There is a bond, between a vampire and the one who sired them. But it is not an unbreakable one. There have even been cases of vampires killing sires who abused them or turned them against their will. The bond weakens over time.”
He meets her eyes again. “I do not mean to say it will be easy. But if we kill Báthory then yes, you may get your mother back.”
“But she’ll be a vampire,” Richter retorts.
“Does that mean you will love her less?” Alucard asks. His expression is hard to read, beyond the mask of calm.
The table goes uncomfortably quiet, after that.
“There are ways to get blood with the human’s consent,” Alucard says once a long, awkward moment has passed. “There are word-of-mouth networks in cities and some towns. I will look into it once all this is over.
“You can also cut human blood with animal blood to extend the supply if I remember correctly. Drinking it straight gives full-blooded vampires indigestion but I believe it’s acceptable when mixed.”
“I’m more worried about how she’s going to change,” Maria admits. “The blood we can figure out, but everything else…?”
“As I understand it, vampirism makes everything more intense,” Alucard reflects. “The enhanced senses can be overwhelming at first, but your emotions are also heightened.
“At their core, the things about vampires that humans hate are human impulses driven to the extreme. When one becomes a vampire, the consequences of acting on them are drastically reduced. So no, it will not turn a moral person immoral. But it will make an immoral person worse.
His lips twist wryly. “Unfortunately, there are many vampires who were once humans hungry for power. So there is rather a lot of immoral people becoming worse.”
“You have powers, yes?” Alucard asks.
“I mean, for a couple days now,” Richter says. “But not for a good nine years before that.”
“I see,” Alucard says. He doesn’t ask why, it’s probably obvious enough with all the talk of dead mothers. “Then I imagine you could use the practice. Leave the whip, for now.”
“You sure you aren’t just afraid of it?” Richter taunts. “It’s been killing vampires for centuries.”
Alucard’s lips quirk wryly. “If you had been holding the Morning Star I might have given you that one. But no. Vampire Killer and I are old friends.
“Old friends,” Richter scoffs.
There’s a hiss that Maria realizes must accompany his translocation, and the dhampir is gone-then-not gone.
He’s reappeared holding Richter’s whip, without the hiss of burning flesh that usually comes when a vampire touches the whip. “I sparred with Trevor while he was using this whip more times than I can count. I even knew the basics of using it at one point. It damages me when it hits, or with prolonged exposure to bare skin, but not nearly as much as it would a vampire.”
“That’s not fair,” Richter protests.
The dhampir hooks the whip to his belt alongside his sword. “You want it, come get it.”
Richter sets his jaw. “Fine. Rules?”
“No blue flame, no sharpened ice large enough to do serious damage. No lightning, if that is something you can produce. I won’t move my sword with my mind or use flame offensively.”
“Offensively?”
“To harm you,” Alucard elaborates. “But I may use it as a barrier, for example.”
“Fair enough,” Richter allows.
“Good,” Alucard says. “Then let us begin.”
It’s good Alucard’s house isn’t anywhere near any others, because it’s something of a light show. The fire, the flash of sunlight on ice, the red outline that appears when the dhampir moves faster than the eye can track. It goes on until the dhampir throws up a line of flame, flying across the ground towards Richter and stopping just short. It proves to be a distraction. The dhampir is gone.
There’s a rustle in the long grass and fire flies from Richter’s fingers - but the hunter has aimed high. The wolf knocks his feet out from under him and sets its teeth around Richter’s thigh.
Alucard shifts back to his usual form, crouching beside Richter. “Dead.”
“I didn’t know you could be a wolf,” Richter says, surprised.
“It’s an unusual shift for vampires,” Alucard acknowledges as he stands. He offers Richter a hand, and Richter pauses only a moment before accepting.
“You must always be prepared for a change in form, however,” the dhampir adds. “You say Báthory has developed feline characteristics. I would not say her shifting into a lioness is out of the question.”
"Again?" Richter asks as his breathing slows.
"Here." Alucard takes the whip off his belt and hands it to Richter. "I am curious to see how you combine your magic with the whip."
The dhampir seems to come alive when he fights, and Maria wonders at the difference. The aura he gives off is much more vampire , and that may be why. The way he moves feels far more inhuman than his usual grace, the fast movements enough to make her flinch occasionally after the past few days.
Or maybe that's just how he is.
Alucard ends up on the méridienne again that night. The lack of beds has forced them to double up; perhaps he isn't comfortable sleeping beside another person. He claims he doesn't need much sleep anyway. Maria isn’t going to complain, she appreciates having a bed to herself.
"Did Trevor teach you how to use the whip?" Maria asks.
Alucard shakes his head with a small smile. “One of the kids. Gabriel was so excited to be learning, he wanted to show off everything. Trevor did correct some things when he saw Gabi teaching me, though.”
Maria smiles. “That’s sweet.”
She frowns thoughtfully. “Why do you think it wasn’t passed down? The truth about you.”
“I, ah, have thoughts,” the dhampir says, shifting uncomfortably. “Most of which aren’t particularly complimentary to past generations of the Belmont family.”
Maria shrugs. “I’m not particularly complimentary to this generation of the Belmont family.”
Alucard chuckles softly. “No, I suppose not.
“Some of it was likely natural. Records degraded and books were behind in the move to France. But I suspect much of it was intentional. I’m an inconvenience to the Belmont mythos, after all. As was much of our story, now I think of it.”
“Much of your story?” Maria asks.
“Many of the monsters we met along the way were humans,” the dhampir reflects.
“Like the people who burned your mother,” Maria agrees.
“Like them. Though there were others, too.” Alucard looks off into the distance for a moment before shaking his head. “But what troubled the Belmonts the most was probably the more peaceful times, in the end.”
He’s wearing the ring again. Maria watches him spin it around his finger with his thumb. “Why the more peaceful times?”
“I’m not the only creature of the night that the village has taken in over the years,” Alucard muses. “They tend to stay on the fringes, and sometimes the transition is uneasy, but they’re just as law-abiding as the human residents. The idea of creatures of the night, magic users, and regular humans creating communities and even families does not sit well with most people. A Belmont falling in love with Dracula’s son was probably just as great a sin, to the family as it has become.”
“Did you marry them, in 1477?” Maria asks.
“Yes,” Alucard responds, staring down at the ring. It’s the most human she’s seen him look, even if the expression on his face is heartache. “They probably wouldn’t have married, if not for me. They weren’t romantics.”
The but I was goes unsaid. It’s a relationship that was doomed from the start, but Maria’s heart still breaks for him.
“But enough of that,” the dhampir says, shaking off most of his melancholy. “It’s time for you to sleep.”
Maria is curious still, but she’s starting to yawn. “Goodnight, Alucard.”
Alucard blinks at her, as if surprised. Then his expression softens and he quietly says, “Goodnight, Maria.”
There’s a wolf curled up on the méridienne when Maria awakes. She stares at it for a moment, frozen in confusion and shock, before she remembers Alucard’s wolf form from yesterday. Maria supposes she’d turn into a wolf to get a break from her emotions, too, if she could.
It’s the first time she’s seen him asleep, wolf form or not, and she watches for a moment curiously. She’s pretty sure he sleeps for an hour or so at midday when the sun is normally at its highest, and probably at some time in the night, but he’s been up before her the past couple of days.
The wolf yawns, displaying even more intimidating teeth than Alucard has as a dhampir, then opens his eyes. The wolf’s gaze lands on Maria, and then he freezes like a dog caught doing something bad.
It’s pretty funny.
Alucard’s flustered expression when he changes back isn’t much better. It’s the least dignified she’s ever seen him.
Maria giggles. “Good morning.”
She’s delighted to find he can blush, just slightly across the arch of his cheekbones. “Good morning, Maria. I hope I didn’t scare you.”
“Nope, all good,” Maria says cheerfully.
The dhampir clears his throat, smoothing down his long, pale locks. “Well. I suppose I should get breakfast started. I’d been hoping to find you a new sword today. Richter mentioned you lost yours when I was resupplying the men.”
“Really?” Maria asks, getting excited after the boredom of the past couple of days.
“There’s nothing wrong with a bit of movement as you recover,” Alucard replies, bending down to lace up his boots. “I believe you haven’t seen my stock of weapons yet. There’s not much, but I’m sure we can find you something.”
It’s a fascinating little armory, especially considering that the dhampir seems to have little regard for weapons other than his sword. Maria looks through the daggers, sets one aside, and picks out a sword to try out further.“Is that one available to try?” she asks, pointing at one high up on the wall. It’s too high up for even a man of average height to easily reach, and she’s considered the possibility it’s purely decorative. It looks smaller than the two other swords available, though, so it could be a good fit.
Alucard looks up at it, seeming lost in thought for a moment before he nods. “I’ll get it for you.”
“Will you tell more of your story while I try these out?” Maria asks. The little bits she’s gotten so far have only made her more curious.
“Very well,” he agrees, then nods to the smaller sword. “We may have to sharpen that one if you take a liking to it. I’ve kept it from rusting but it’s been a long time since it was used.”
“Where were we?” Alucard muses. “Ah, yes. Trevor and Sypha fell into the catacombs, and it wasn’t long before they found themselves in front of my coffin.”
“You had a coffin?” Annette scoffs.
“Do humans not ironically play into stereotypes from time to time?” Alucard asks, tilting his head.
“God, my ancestors were right, vampires are fucking drama queens,” Richter muses.
Alucard lets out a low, soft chuckle. Maria thinks hopefully that he’s getting more comfortable with them.
“The next part of the story probably won’t help. I wanted to test Trevor, to make sure he would last through a fight with my father. So I played it up; levitating, baring my fangs, hissing. I always was good at pressing his buttons.”
It’s an even more interesting line with context, Maria reflects.
“He and I fought; Sypha intervened and threatened to incinerate me.”
He sounds inordinately fond for someone who’s describing a person threatening to kill him.
“Could have done it, too,” Richter adds cheerfully. “We still remember her, as the person who refreshed the magic in the Belmont line.”
“She was a scholar,” Alucard reminisces. “A scholar of magic, among many other things. That’s how the prophecy described her, too. A hunter, a scholar, and a sleeping soldier.”
He glances at Richter. “She did incinerate one of my father’s generals during the battle against his forces. And she only got more formidable as the years went on. But I’m getting ahead of myself.”
Maria sheathes the first sword and moves on to the second as Alucard describes weeks spent on the road, getting to know each other and fighting night creatures along the way. The smaller sword feels better in her hand immediately and she moves through her forms in a practiced, half-distracted manner now that she has a sword more similar to the one she’d left behind.
She pauses as he moves on to the Belmont Hold. “There were wards?”
"Yes," Alucard confirms. He's cleaning and oiling his own sword now. "The wards were weakened after the time left unmaintained, and not made for dhampirs anyway. But I could feel them, like a cat when its fur is rubbed the wrong way. It made me… agitated. What I found there didn't help. Nor did the fact that we were getting closer to our goal.
"Still, I wasn't very kind to Trevor."
"What did you find?" Maria asks.
"The Belmont Hold is home to many fascinating records and objects," Alucard reflects. "But at the time it also contained the skull of a dhampir child. It was unsettling, to say the least."
Maria makes a face.
Richter winces. "Probably not the ideal way to greet your ally."
"No," Alucard agrees. "Still, the wards were broken at the end of our time there, and the new ones Sypha and I put on accommodated me. I spent plenty of time there later on."
Alucard narrates their time in the Hold. Searching through records, finding weapons. Eventually, finding the spell that would draw Dracula's castle to them.
Rather ironically, he gets cut off just as he's speaking of night creatures attacking the Hold.
It's not exactly a long battle. It had clearly been a normal contingent of vampires, not meant to deal with them. But it drives home the risk that being even this close to Machecoul brings.
“Give me the sword, please,” Alucard says to Maria after the fight.
He presses his thumb to the edge. “Hm. Still has some sharpness. I wonder if any other spells have held.”
“Spells?” Maria asks. “It’s magic?”
“Not as such,” Alucard responds, handing back the blade. “It was my first real sword, long ago. My father put some spells on it, including one to keep the edge. My father was a powerful sorcerer, and I’ve refreshed the ones I know of a few times before. My - You are not the first youth after me to wield it.”
“Who was?” Annette asks.
“That is a story for another day, I think,” Alucard says.
Between that and how his eyes had flicked away before he’d cut himself off, Maria has a sinking feeling he was going to say “my daughter” or “my son”.
It’s easy to forget sometimes, with the way he looks, how long he’s been in this world.
“If it’s something you value, I don’t want to risk losing it,” Maria says.
Alucard shakes his head. “It was made to be used. If it keeps you safe I will be happy to let you have it.”
Maria nods. “Then I will try my best to keep it safe.”
The dhampir smiles, small but definitely there. “Thank you, Maria.”
They can’t stay. That much is obvious, even to Richter.
"I propose we go South first,” Alucard says. “The total eclipse has a limited range. The farther north or south we go, the less the sun will be blocked, and the weaker the vampires will get.”
“What about you?” Annette asks. “Does the sun not hurt you too?”
“Direct sunlight does weaken me somewhat,” Alucard admits. “I tend to get rather drowsy when the sun is at its highest.”
“That’s weirdly cute,” Maria says without thinking. “Um.”
Alucard seems uncertain what to say to that and simply continues. “I also get sunburned quite easily, but that could be my complexion. I have some zinc oxide paste. I’ll be alright.”
“We could go to La Rochelle,” Maria proposes. “Maybe we could get a boat.”
Most of the group makes a face at that.
“It is the quickest mode of travel,” Alucard admits, though he looks pained.
“What?” Richter retorts. “Don’t tell me the great Alucard gets seasick.”
“Only mildly,” he says with a grimace. “I’m just not sure if I want to be seasick for… well, however long it takes us to reach our destination.”
“I was thinking we could head East,” Richter proposes. “I mean, I’m sure the Belmont Hold has changed over the years but I imagine it still has a hell of a lot more information than we could come up with.”
“I had been considering that,” Alucard says contemplatively. “I should warn you, however, the situation with the supernatural in Belmont is… not what is in France. You will have to respect that.”
“Don’t tell me it’s worse than France,” Richter groans.
“I don’t think that’s what he means,” Juste grumbles.
“I mean you will have to be civil to any supernatural being you come across,” Alucard states. “They’re allowed in town as long as they abide by Belmont’s laws.”
“So it’s just like France,” Richter retorts.
“Except in that the laws against feeding without consent are actually enforced,” Alucard says dryly. “Even when my sword isn’t hanging over their heads, it’s something of a hotspot for hunters."
He sighs. "At least if we're going to Belmont I won't have to spend weeks seasick."
“What are you ?” is the first thing Richter says upon stepping out of the mirror.
The woman gives Alucard a quizzical look and asks him something in Romanian. Maria thinks she hears the word “Belmont”, but she’s a bit busy elbowing Richter and hissing, “This is exactly what he told you not to do."
Alucard gives a one-word response in Romanian, then adds, “French for our guests, please, Vera. I know you speak it well enough. And keep in mind that they don’t know the whole story when it comes to their family history.”
“That’s what you get for being allies with the French,” Vera remarks disdainfully.
“If it helps, this century’s vampire with delusions of grandeur is Russian,” Alucard offers.
She shrugs. “Better Russian than Ottoman. Maybe better than French.”
“She thinks she is the Egyptian goddess Sekhmet,” Alucard retorts, sounding amused. “She wants to lock humans up in pens.”
“I suppose you can’t account for insanity.” Vera turns to the others and offers them a sly smile. Her eyes shine, just slightly too blue. “Welcome to Belmont. Cousins.”