Chapter Text
The moon was full, spilling over the land like soothing tears. There was no solace in it for him. There were not many nights that Elisabetha’s memory tormented, but when she haunted him, it was an unforgiving grief from which there was no escape.
Impotent fury slashed across pride and heart alike, and Vlad’s hand ripped through the chimera unforgivingly. The wings fluttered as it swooned, and for some reason it made him think of Lisa. Maybe it was the delicacy of the motion. Maybe it was the fragility.
The vampire lord did not care for guilt but it rolled over him in a dangerous tangle of emotion. You know better, he warned himself, the roar of rage echoing over the vast chamber. It has been over 800 years of mourning, he thought, as his claws sliced through the scale and found blood. Feeling anything for a mortal, even one as intriguing as Lisa, is too dangerous to contemplate.
“Sire, this is wasteful,” Erasmus called from the end of the hall. He knew better than to approach closer. “We spent almost a year locating that thing for your experiments, remember?” The chimera’s scorpion tail quivered warningly and Vlad’s smile was a small, bitter thing of triumph. The tail slashed down and Vlad flashed away, circling to deliver a deep gash to its haunches.
“Couldn’t you attack the local populace instead? We could move the castle somewhere conveni—.” The answering snarl had the manservant misting away with a murmured: “Apologies my king. I shall leave you to it.”
The chimera whimpered and tried to slink away. It knew it was bested and its death hovered with cruel hands. The whimper shouldn’t have stayed the vampire’s hand, but it did. The truth was that this meager outlet was deeply unsatisfying.
I want to kill something deserving of it, Vlad thought. He stalked down the hall, leaving the mythical creature to slink back into the bowels of the castle to lick its wounds.
There was no slip of stone or thread of fabric that did not serve him here, and it made way for the king’s passage with soundless obedience. The wide doors opened before he touched them and the starry sky awaited Vlad’s presence. Dark mountains and silent forests dotted the landscape before the long line of forsaken stakes, and the rattling bones that marked his territory.
Couldn’t you attack the local populace instead?
“If only,” Vlad muttered savagely. The flex of his claws on the stone bannister left deeply scored marks. And why aren’t you? logic sneered.
“Nevermind that,” he retorted sharply. “It doesn’t matter.” The dust on the wind smelled brittle and old.
Because of her, it snapped back. The one who wasn’t supposed to change you. The one who was merely a whim, a spontaneity! And you can’t even mourn your beloved properly because you’ve allowed yourself to be distracted by some–!
“Enough!” Vlad shouted, whirling back toward the castle like a bat finding refuge in the shadows. If his own mind would not give him peace, he would silence it. A step over the threshold and he had his answer.
“Human blood,” he snapped to the shadows, and felt the hesitant shift in the stones. It was not often the king asked for blood, and many moons more, since it had been human. If he wouldn’t kill any, Vlad could at least give himself this.
This is a terrible idea, rational worry whispered. You know it brings out the beast in you. Bad-temperedly, Vlad snarled at the thought, raking his claws over the rich tapestry of gold threads and dark knits that adorned the wall. It fell in ribbons; pretty, helpless victims of his rage. It pleased him in a petty, shallow manner.
It had been so long since Vlad had given into his temper. The fight with the chimera had opened the door and now it rose, a volatile force that could bend everything to its will. So long since you gave into feeling anything, his heart whispered.
Because it’s dangerous, Vlad reasoned, throwing open the door to his chambers. It can unleash in me things that do not go quietly into the soft night. Things that can shape the world.
Because you love with a power that cannot be contained by natural things, grief admitted.
His eyes fell on the writing table in the corner. The foundation for Lisa’s lessons were there in books he had open and the notes he was making. Anything you love is doomed to despair and will never produce anything good or lasting.
With the wisdom of a man who had questioned everything inside of himself to the point of madness, Vlad understood that the grief for Elizabetha was not the true source of this moment. Her memory was the ice over the river of misery and doubts that had spent months swelling inside of him.
Months of watching brilliance glimmer and shine like sunlight on a mirror. Of smelling an authentic kindness and strength of character that he’d forgotten could exist. It smells like stonecrop, musk mallow and chamomile, he thought. That was irrational. It wasn’t even really what Lisa smelled like, it was the scent of her soap and the skin tonic that she’d selected out of the array his servant Celia had offered her.
Lisa’s body was another set of fragrances entirely and he’d come to know them as intimately as a lover. The sweet and airy smell of her hair, like sunlight on grass. The heated tang of her sweat after she would come inside from a walk. The slightly mossy, steeped tea scent of her womanhood that ripened as the moon waned. It was impossible not to smell these things; his olfactory abilities rivaled those of any creature under the sky. He had tried to give her some privacy in that regard but…
There was a knock at the door and the curt command to ‘enter’ produced the pitcher and goblet. Even from across the room, Vlad could smell the blood. Something deeply leashed inside of him opened an eye.
His determined stride brought him to the tray within moments. There are things I cannot have, he thought as he lifted the vessel. And then there’s this.
🀦🀩
The castle was never this quiet. Certainly it couldn’t be termed boisterous, but there was always some sound. The dry wings of the bats coming and going from the upper turrets. The rush of running water in the pipes, or the hum of the current that operated the lamps. The soft scrape of the servants’ shoes and gently closed doors. Every once in a while, a hollow, echoing scream, or howl from the bowels of the castle.
But tonight there was nothing. It was so silent that it had woken her. Lisa consulted the clever little water clock at the foot of the bed and frowned. It was past three o’clock. To be sure, the castle would have been winding down from its nightly activities but not hushed like this.
It’s like it’s holding its breath, she thought, easing out of bed. Feeling for the candle, she watched it flare to life and then held it high to locate her slippers.
Lord Tepes, herself, and two other servants, Erasmus and Celia, were the only individuals Lisa normally encountered. This was intentional, and also why she kept daytime hours. It was her mentor’s way of ensuring her safety. While the rest of the castle slept, she learned. While she slept, Dracula ruled.
It wasn’t clear to Lisa if the vampire slept, or indeed, if he needed to. It was one of the many things she wished to ask but felt would be impolite to do so. She was here to learn about human anatomy and medicine, not the secrets of vampires. It was a shame, really, for Lisa had come to realize that Vlad was astounding. The truth was that he fascinated her, even more than her studies. There was nothing he didn’t know about, and his intelligence, self-mastery and wisdom were staggering.
It was true that they’d both been a little sharp with each other at first. Vlad had been understandably suspicious and defensive. For her part, Lisa’s fear had momentarily gripped her when it became evident the warnings about the castle’s master being a vampire were actually true. But once that instant had passed, Lisa had gotten a hold of herself.
She’d realized that someone who lived within an abode of intentional beauty, organization, and cleanliness, was not someone small of mind. This was an individual who would respond to rationality, manners, and respect. So she’d approached Vlad as the intelligent, reasonable man he was, and invited him to consider her as a potential student. And there had never been another moment when he hadn’t treated her with the utmost civility.
While it was terribly tempting to transmute his courtesy into something she had absolutely no business hoping for, Lisa was far too pragmatic of a woman to let it get in the way of her education. Vlad was a genius, and there was so much more to learn from him than she had ever dreamed.
The more Lisa learned, the more his world opened up to her. The reality she would someday have to return to would be pale and bleak without him and the time spent here in the castle would be a brilliant candle in the dim mud of those days.
As always, it pulled at her heart, and the responding yearning was overwhelming. Calming herself, Lisa took a deep breath. There is nothing for it, the blonde reminded herself, slipping her feet into the located slippers. You always knew this was temporary. It was true. If anything, she’d already been permitted far more time than she could have ever dared hope for. She continued to marvel at the knowledge she’d been allowed to have, and the generosity the vampire lord showed her. It was a kindness she could never repay.
So the young doctor worked hard and she dedicated herself to the lessons Vlad gave her. The question the vampire lord had once asked in such a menacing manner—what she had to trade—was never discussed again. But she didn’t forget it, and did try to give something back to him.
She talked about the outer world: the people she’d seen, the landscapes being shaped by new inventions in building and agriculture, the plagues that spread seemingly by the wind. She told stories about the villagers she’d lived alongside; giving him an opportunity to see the beautiful humanity as well as the flaws, and the charming quirks alongside the poignant frailty.
She stepped to the hook by the door and pulled the kosode* over her arms. The white silk felt as decadent as the day Celia had presented it to her. Lisa still dreaded spilling something onto the smooth, pristine fabric. She was always careful to treat everything she’d been lent with great respect. It was a small way she could show Vlad what this time meant to her. A tiny indication to her teacher that his assumptions about humanity weren’t infallible.
Retrieving the candle from the nightstand, Lisa crossed the room. The desk she’d been studying at was still littered with books and her slate. The slate was well-used and the mathematical formula she’d been attempting was smudged by her frustrated fingertips. The chalk piece had slipped off the slate and she carefully put it back. It would not do to have it mark one of his books, or the glossy desktop of inlaid leather.
The shaft of moonlight was brilliant and drew her to open the curtains with a soft smile. It was a terribly romantic view with a glittering river, carpet of conifers, and navy purple mountains, all dusted with the last snow of winter.
A burst of fire caught her eye and she craned her neck to see where it came from. Across the expanse of the castle, above the lab and inside Vlad’s wing, fire licked like hungry fangs against the windows of his quarters.
It was pure instinct that had her darting across the bedroom and flinging the door open. The castle was large. The quickest way across it would be the stairs and a dash across the parapet. She could get there if—.
“Good evening, Lisa,” Celia murmured quietly from her side. She jerked, eyes flying to the form seated beside her door.
In her haste, Lisa had completely forgotten that she had a guard. It was something that had taken some time to get used to, but she respected it. Her mentor had said it was for her protection but Lisa understood it was also to safeguard his home. After all, he didn’t truly know her. Having seen the wonders held inside its walls, Lisa knew there was knowledge beyond measure in his libraries, and wealth unlike anything the world could fathom inside every nook and cranny. She would want to protect that too.
“Celia!” she gasped with alarm. In an instant, the vampire was standing by her, concern plain.
“What is wrong?” she asked, looking beyond Lisa into her room. “Who has disturbed you?”
“No,” Lisa said, taking her wrist and trying to pull her down the hall. It was like trying to move a boulder with a feather. “It’s Vla–your king,” she amended. “There’s a fire in his room!”
Celia patted her hand. “You’re mistaken,” the vampiress said soothingly. “There is no fire.”
Lisa resisted hissing with displeasure. She’d come to like Celia, despite some initial tension between them. “I saw it,” she said insistently, pointing to her room. “You can see it from my window! To the left and all the way across!”
Celia shook her head, the pale golden-green eyes calm. “Do not invite me in,” she reminded the young blonde. “There is no fire.” She looked hesitant, her stunning features set in unhappy lines. “That is my king. It is best not to disturb him.”
Lisa’s jaw dropped. “That’s Vlad?” she asked incredulously. “He can–he’s–he’s on fire and that’s normal?”
Celia’s face pinched when Lisa used his name. None of the vampire denizens liked that Lisa had been permitted to use their king’s first name and she did her best to be mindful of that. After all, she was a guest in their kingdom. If she hadn’t been so shocked, Lisa would have remembered herself.
“It’s not ‘normal,’ per say,” Celia said carefully. “But it is something that occurs, on occasion.”
Lisa’s concern slipped away in favor of intrigue. “But how can he combust without burning his hair and clothing? Does he smell of smoke afterward? Is there–?”
An echo of fury rolled down the hall and Celia tensed. “You must return to your room. It is not safe for you right now.”
Confusion welled up. “Is he alright…?” she started to ask. There was the sound of shattering glass and a blast of heat. Lisa heard a shrieking howl that rose the hair on her arms and wrenched her heart into her throat. It was the sound of a hatred so deeply felt that it could destroy the world.
Erasmus materialized at the front of the hallway and darted toward Celia. “You do not belong out here!” he barked at Lisa. “Return to your room at once!”
“What is it?” she asked fearfully. “What…?”
Celia took her arm firmly but not unkindly. The vampire led Lisa to the threshold of her door and stopped, indicating the young woman should step inside. The blonde had been carefully instructed by Vlad to never invite any of the members of his household inside her chamber, lest she override the protection spell on it. She understood that it was an extra layer of security for her in the event someone disobeyed his decree regarding her safety.
“Do not fear,” Celia said gently. “It is merely our Lord. It will pass.”
Lisa didn’t understand what was happening. Was the castle under attack? Did one of the beasts that lived in the belly of the castle escape? Was someone challenging Vlad’s rule?
“But–?” Lisa started to ask, anxious hands fluttering at the neck of her robe. Another crash and she could have sworn the castle trembled. Whatever was happening, it rivaled Vlad’s power.
“You must come with me,” Erasmus urged Celia, already turning down the hall.
“Do not leave your room Lisa,” the vampiress said firmly. “No matter what you hear.”
🀦🀩
Bloodlust was one of the things that made a vampire–or any creature of the dark–so dangerous. When one gave itself completely to it, there was feverish madness and wanton glee. The primal instincts that lurk like drabs of wine in the bottom of a glass stain all reason, and normally logical minds can be reduced to twitchy, reactive frenzy.
As King of the Vampires, Vlad Dracula Tepes didn’t experience bloodlust like his subjects. He didn’t become drunk on the rapturous ecstasy of heightened senses, or lost within the potent surge of power. There was no blissful perception of invincibility or euphoric sense of triumph. These things lived in his body all the time and he was accustomed to them.
Instead, the demonic took hold.
Wrath, so long tempered under the trappings of reason and logic, erupted with teeth like knives and a hunger to taste the flesh of the world. A malicious spite that would re-order the known kingdoms in blood and screams, rose to blot out all reason and left him a pulsing nerve of outraged pain.
Trying to contain such fury within the walls of his castle was foolish but the last sensible act of a madman.
The interior of the room was a scorched husk of what it had been, far beyond any restoration spell. The walls were spattered, a mixture of the wounds inflicted on his own body and the stone that wept crimson as a reflection of his soulless agony. The blood dripped down his fingers, an unseeing and unfeeling witness that refused to assuage his grief. There would never be enough blood.
“I am grateful we are nowhere near civilization,” he heard Erasmus say from down the hall.
Civilization, Vlad sneered, body molten and flickering with the heat of a forest fire. Humanity is nothing more than sniveling rodents scratching in the dirt of their own existence. They know nothing of enlightenment or culture.
“Do you know what prompted it?” Celia whispered, their steps faltering as they approached his door. “I have not seen him in this state for years.”
“He was attacking the chimera before this,” Erasmus confided and Vlad’s temper spiked. They knew better than to gossip about him. “And earlier in the week, the harpies retrieved half a league of uprooted woodland. We’ve wood for all the winter fires now.” His servant fell silent but then spoke again. “I fear it has been brewing for a while.”
The astute side of the vampire lord was surprised. Vlad thought he’d hid his emotions better than that. Or Erasmus was more perceptive than most…
“What are you going to do if he calls for more blood?” Celia asked quietly. The clarity of surprise receded into the endlessly seething temper.
“You’ll obey!” Vlad roared angrily, the burst of pique shattering the window framing and cracking the elaborate frescoes on the walls. Tiny, blackened tiles fell like broken teeth to the floor, the pale grout staring like accusing eyes that had been gouged out. There was an admittedly puerile satisfaction in hearing the servants gasp and the wild beating of their immortal hearts. There would be no more stories shared tonight.
“You should return to Lisa,” Erasmus whispered urgently to Celia. “She was very alarmed. I’ll stand guard.”
Her name was a deluge over flaming lands, a cold hand on a fevered brow. Lisa. Bitter conflict scraped inside Vlad’s breast. He did not wish to frighten Lisa. Indeed, he treasured her fearlessness and trust.
She hasn’t forgotten what you are, she simply chooses to overlook it, honesty snapped. You couldn’t possibly think she might not see it? How could she not? You’re nothing like her and it’s apparent in every possible way.
The aching wish that things might be different, that he might be different, smashed hard against the eternal reality that nothing would ever change for him. The world would rise and fall, but Vlad would remain the fixed constant. This is why this whole educational enterprise is foolish, he thought angrily. Teaching a human! For what? Her life will be gone the moment you take your eyes off her!
Then let me never look away, his heart murmured.
Vlad Dracula Tepes did not feel fear. He barely remembered the word. But in that moment, there was fear.
You do not mean that; you cannot.
His heart did not respond, having said all that it needed to say. Vlad’s physical form materialized amidst the flaming wreckage of his quarters, his boots crunching among the charcoaled timber and sooty glass.
I cannot. I do not, he corrected. It’s too dangerous and too foolish.
“I do not,” he said softly. It was far too quiet and the silence that answered him was oppressive. Stalking to the writing alcove, he could see the half-charred remains of his desk and snarled.
“I refuse!” he hissed, sweeping it aside furiously with foot long claws.
This will not last, he told himself. It will pass, it will…
He whirled, cape stirring the ashes into a thin flurry of white. They moved like a desolate winter, blanketing the ravaged space. The movement was softly final, as though surrendering to the inevitable. It made him think of how Lisa’s hair moved when it was unbound, and memory pounced.
“Pus is not always a good sign, although it is an indication that the body is attempting to rid itself of sickness.” The muttered recitation was slow and deliberate.
Vlad glanced up, half-amused and half-curious. Lisa had a tendency to read out loud when she was struggling to understand something. He anticipated a question and put his quill down.
“The presence of pus always comes from an infection. If the infection cannot be contained and remains too long, it can spread.” It wasn’t a question; he could see she was still reading. Lisa fell quiet, and Vlad waited as she fiddled with the end of her braid and tapped the side of the page aimlessly.
“Infections can spread,” she mused, tugging on the bound twist. The words were thoughtful, and the knit of her blonde brows indicated she was contemplating deeply. The strands of gold twirled around slender fingers on competent hands.
Still he waited, watching the expressions whirl across her face. It was interesting to Vlad to watch her think. He couldn’t put his finger on precisely why, but figured it must be because it was satisfying to witness enlightenment firsthand.
Enlightenment you’ve had a part in, he admitted to himself. Helping a human; it struck him again as completely unforeseen and still a little odd. But Vlad could not deny that it had been unexpectedly fulfilling, even fascinating.
Lisa frowned now, tugging on the ribbon in her hair and spearing her fingers through the end of the braid. The silken scrap that had held her hair fluttered down without protest in a curling journey to the carpet. It was a surprise to note the tension the hair must have been under. The blonde tresses unwound swiftly, the rich gold unraveling halfway up her shoulder before it stopped.
There was a plume of fragrance that drifted to him; it had been caught and secreted in the twist of her braid. Vlad closed his eyes for a moment–the damp stone of his castle, the faded must of his books, and the chalk from Lisa’s slate–all the scents receding behind the pungency of her hair.
He’s smelled it before; a heated, grassy scent. But this was concentrated, more vibrantly wild and warm. The richness of it made him think of sun-baked, rolling hills where you collapsed in the long, crisp grasses and felt the heat of the earth press into you like a firm kiss.
“It can spread; it spreads!”
Her excited exclamation brought him back into the space and Vlad opened his eyes to Lisa surging up from her seat, whirling to the long table stacked with books. Hurriedly she dived into the pile, carelessly pushing the remnants of her braid back behind her shoulder. The frantic movement had the strands loosening until her hair flowed down her back like a river swollen from the spring melt.
Vlad’s hands ached to touch it, to smell it close up, and feel the rich texture between his fingers. It was curiosity, he was sure; it couldn’t –shouldn’t– be anything more. But when the vampire curled his fingers into his palm, the scrap of his claws reminded him of who he was. Of who she was. Of what could never be.
“Ah ha!” Lisa cried triumphantly, pulling a large, gray tome wrapped in flaking leather from the middle of the heap. “I knew I saw it in here!”
Saw what? Vlad wanted to ask but didn’t trust his voice yet. Lisa wasn’t really aware of him anyway, caught inside her own fervor and triumph. Which was just as well, really. He was on the outside looking in. He always would be.
She flipped through pages with a surprising lack of care. Lisa had always been painstakingly considerate of his belongings, and this was one more sign of how embroiled she was in her own thoughts.
“The infection will spread!” Lisa crowed. “It spreads through the blood! It’s the blood that will carry it through the body!” Abruptly she looked up, rotating toward him with beaming eyes and a victorious grin. “Vlad! It’s the circulatory system, isn’t it? That’s what carries the infection!” She held up the book, tapping the spidery diagram of the veins within the human body.
She’s beautiful, he thought, mesmerized. She’s…
Lisa’s smile dimmed, firming into something resigned. “I’m wrong. I’ve missed something, haven’t I?” she said with a bleak sigh. “I was so sure, I thought I’d made a leap in logic that–.”
Vlad rose quickly, spreading his hands before bringing them together in a soft clap. “You are absolutely correct,” he affirmed. “That is precisely how an infection will spread. Well done, Lisa.”
The sheer jubilation in her expression was dazzling and she started toward him quickly, the soft blonde waves billowing around her like a gilded frame. Speaking eagerly, she came alongside Vlad and pointed at the diagram.
“It could move through all the organs then, could it not?” she asked. “Once it is in the bloodstream, there is little chance of halting it!” She frowned, thinking swiftly. “Perhaps that is why amputations are rarely successful?”
The potency of her scent at close proximity overwhelmed him. Her hair, her skin, the slightly breathless quality of her exhale...he could even smell her excitement–the heated flush in her cheeks that opened her pores and the quivering energy in her muscles that sent minute vibrations in the air between them. It was highly unfortunate that his senses was struggling to differentiate between erotic and academic excitement.
No, he commanded his form. I am not reacting like this.
It was a frustrating novelty to realize his body was not heeding him. Logic suggested that he could stop smelling if he stopped breathing. He didn’t need the oxygen, it was merely habitual.
He tried but it did nothing to stop the longing; simply trapped Lisa’s taste and fragrance in his lungs. It was an inviting sort of torture, and he exhaled, refusing to indulge the irritating ache thudding in his chest.
This is pointless, he warned himself. There is nothing to warrant anything beyond scholarly curiosity. She is human. You are not.
Lisa was speaking again and he forced himself to pay attention.
“Infections can set in after amputations though, so when is the infection introduced, and why would it start in the site of amputation? Would there be a method of ensuring the infection was gone prior to the surgery? It’s almost as if it wasn’t completely removed, which means that…”
She closed her eyes, her slender fingers shifting the tantalizing cloud of hair against her breast as she twisted the loose strands thoughtfully. “How swiftly the infection must move in the blood… Can we measure it?” The blue-gray eyes reappeared, looking at him quizzically.
Her brain works so rapidly, he admired silently. Already she understands that her logic has gaps and there is more to it.
Vlad smiled, trying to dampen his reaction to his student. “Yes, we can measure it, Lisa,” he said softly. “And there’s both medicine and the body’s own defenses to combat it.”
Her smile was a beacon of wonder and determination. “Please,” she said eagerly, motioning him to sit down again, taking the chair at the other side. “Please tell me everything!”
“You had everything once,” Vlad whispered, shaking the memory loose with a vigorous toss of his head. “You know what it means to lose. You know what it means to…to feel for a human. You will not do this.”
He stalked over to the goblet he’d had the forethought to place behind a stone pillar and tossed the contents back in one enormous gulp. Blood trailed down either side of his mouth and Vlad sneered.
I do not want to feel, enraged dread bellowed. What right did she have to come here? To convince me there might be something in the world that was worth engaging with again? I was alone!
“I was content to be alone,” he hissed, flinging the goblet at the wall. It ricocheted off the stone with a loud clang and rolled toward the door. “I was happy.”
His claws extended and he pivoted, ripping wildly into scorched stone. “I was happy!” Vlad screamed. “Alone! Alone! Completely alone!” The rending scrape of talon against dressed stone was a frenzied cacophony that built and built, only ceasing when he heard the soft scrape of an opening door.
🀦🀩
Lisa paced her room unhappily, listening intently for further clues as to what was happening in the castle. The silence was pierced only twice but she could see the flames burst from multiple sets of windows, the glass exploding in a glimmering shower of shards.
She’d concluded that the only plausible answer to this was a fight. Vlad would not tolerate such destruction to his home and for such a prolonged time, unless he had no choice. It was logical to assume that there was a challenger of some type. Someone who matched him in strength and believed the throne should be theirs.
Heart in her throat, Lisa pulled at her braid and worried until her stomach ached. Who would challenge Vlad?
As she’d understood it, his rule was absolute. From most of what she’d seen, that appeared to be true. The servants obeyed without question and his castle fairly shimmered with his essence. She knew that there were always power struggles and uprisings in any kingdom, but to attack him in his home seemed incredibly foolish.
So why would they?
She was terrified it was because of her.
Lisa knew that the castles’ inhabitants were interested in her. Some were harmlessly curious, but many of the curious were maliciously inclined. She’d been woken many times by loud snuffling at her window. The faces of lycans, demons, and creatures she couldn’t even name would be pressed against the glass with foul glares, their eyes narrowing with hunger when they saw her.
She’d learned to keep her curtains closed.
But even through her curtains, the glowing eyes of the vampires and the unholy shriek of their talons against the glass had continued for weeks. It would have her shivering under her quilts as they taunted her, mocked her, and coaxed her to open the window and let them in. In the face of such things, Lisa understood how the superstitions of the townsfolk had become outright paranoia.
More than once she found herself fervently praying that Dracula’s protection spell would hold. It made her keenly aware that while he was king, there was a distinct difference between the control and intelligence of Vlad and the vicious, bloodthirsty creatures he ruled. They were not him, and he was much more than they could ever dream to be. It made her grateful that such creatures had a ruler as rational and wise as Vlad, or the world would be far more bloody than it already was.
While Lisa’s window was protected by Vlad’s magic, Celia had guarded against intrusion from the hall. Some of the bolder monsters that could not gain access through the glass, had tried their luck at Lisa’s door. Those that had been foolish enough to try, fell to the wrath of the vampiress.
Just once, Lisa had heard Celia fall. There had been a horrible tearing sound, like a weighted net that had ripped from the tack and Celia’s gurgling moan had made her stomach fall below her knees. Almost immediately, she’d heard Vlad’s voice call out. The menace in it had her holding her breath.
She watched Celia’s blood pool at the crack beneath the door, unable to pass Vlad’s spell. The shadows moved like darting daggers to cut through the light appearing under her door.
Vlad spoke again, a deadly whisper that felt foreign in the tones she had come to find comforting. The answering laugh to his measured warning had made her skin crawl. There’d been a depth of crazed malevolence in the merry sound that still haunted her.
There was no indication of blood or injury when Celia greeted her the next morning and Lisa said nothing to her or Vlad of the incident. But in her pocket, she carried the cross she’d constructed out of two slivers of firewood. She had made it for that laugh, for the shadow that cut the light under her door.
The cross kept company with the small silver blade that had arrived on her breakfast tray the following morning. Lisa still wasn’t sure which one of her vampire keepers had left it for her but she was grateful.
A low groan seemed to imminent from the very stones under her feet and the answering shudder in the walls was terrifying. Whatever was happening now was even more of a threat than that night Celia had been wounded.
Lisa couldn’t stand it anymore. Crossing her room, she seized the knob of her door and flung it open. “Celia, I must know, what is—?” The hallway was empty, her usual guard nowhere to be seen. That alarmed her even more. Celia hadn’t returned. She would only leave her post for this length of time if there was something seriously amiss.
That laugh came back to her, that insanely malicious voice that had crept under her door with bloody talons. What if they had challenged him? apprehension asked. What if the castle’s citizens are waiting to see who will emerge victorious? What if it’s not Vlad?
Lisa was not a foolish woman, but she was also not one to wait for disaster to arrive at her door. If there was a chance that Vlad may not remain in power, it was best that she knew what was coming and escape while she could. And what if he’s wounded and cornered and–?
Leaving the door ajar, she moved to her nightstand. As her fingers wrapped around the silver dagger, a scream of fury rushed down the hall. Lisa could have sworn she heard the word ‘alone’ under it–-heartbroken and terrified–-but it must have been a trick of the long corridors.
You are not alone, she thought instantly, thinking of the vague aloofness of her teacher. How sometimes it was painfully obvious how his solitary existence had left him locked away from the emotions that made being alive worthwhile.
It’s why it’s so hard to read him, she admitted to herself. His knowledge and wisdom is wrapped up inside an elegantly gracious but terribly lonely man.
You don’t know if that scream was even him, logic scolded. It was ridiculous because the howl was an unearthly, genderless vocalization of pure rage. There was no way to know if it was Vlad and yet…
What if he is alone right now? she thought. What if that is him and he’s being attacked without assistance and there was something I could do? she thought. Lisa knew she could not leave him. If there’s a chance that he could be saved…
It made no sense to rush to Vlad’s chambers with nothing more than her meager weapons and wits, but the urgency that had been building inside her had taken hold of her throat. There was an acutely sharp realization that she was willing to risk her personal safety for Vlad beyond what made sense, and that meant she felt something for him she should not be feeling. Ever practical, Lisa put it aside. It wasn’t something she had time to address right now.
Cross in pocket, dagger in hand, Lisa traded her slippers for her boots. With a regretful glance at her cloak and bag, she left them behind. If Lisa did find Vlad and he didn’t survive, she was under no illusion she would escape.
So why are you doing this? the rational mind of self-preservation argued. You know how paltry your abilities are in the face of vampiric power.
I will not leave him to fight alone. I will not let him die, Lisa vowed.
Obviously she suspected it would be difficult to kill the King of Vampires; the acres of bodies surrounding the castle was a testament to that. But she knew it was possible. She remembered the list Vlad had threateningly recited when she’d first approached him in the castle foyer many months ago.
But why? honesty persisted. You owe him nothing. The question chased her down the hall to the winding stairs and crept up as stealthily as she did. The silence of the castle was absolute and she was sure that the creatures that dwelled within the walls could hear her heartbeat.
You owe him nothing.
It was a lie and her heart knew it. The truth was that she owed him everything. Vlad had taken her into his home with a generosity that humbled her. He’d shared his knowledge and his time and…
And somewhere along the way he became your friend, she admitted. Someone you admire and enjoy, and accepts you for who you are.
It wasn’t hard to understand why she appreciated him so much. Lisa had few friends. Being labeled an outcast, evil, and a witch had a tendency to do that to a person. Something Vlad understood, she silently acknowledged.
You got used to being alone, she thought, pausing at the landing to dart to the next staircase. So did he. Then we found each other.
Lisa frowned, stilling halfway up the stairs, eyes fixed on the winding steps rising into the dark. That sounded a bit more intimate than she’d intended. She’d only meant that they… understood each other. Appreciated each other. That was all.
Wasn’t it?
Lisa felt the hopeless yearning flutter in her chest and shook her head resolutely. Anything more would be impossible, she thought, feeling her pulse hammer in her throat. He’s the most powerful man in the country, if not the world. He belongs to the night, and you walk in the day. He’s royalty; a literal god to his people. You’re an outcast orphan from a landless family. You are pitifully young to his years and have a teaspoon of his knowledge and experience. You’re an amusement to him, maybe an experiment; nothing more.
The list was disheartening at best and certain finality at worst. “This helps nothing,” she whispered fiercely. “Keep moving.” The no-nonsense words propelled her forward into the silent hall and carried her to the door with frost creeping around its edges.
The journey across the parapet was chilly and lit by a watery moon.
Lisa could not look down. In the daylight, the staggering height and impossible sense of frailty was unpleasant, but in the middle of the night it shook her courage to pieces. She had not thought to bring a candle and there was precious little moonlight. The path in front of her faded into a darkness so complete that each step felt like she was walking to the end of a gangplank that would drop her into the endless emptiness of night.
Halfway across the stone walkway, the dull roaring sound took on masculine vocals. She’d thought it might be the wind over the mountains but it actually was Vlad. The broken windows and the wind brought his misery to her like a leaf on the breeze. She didn’t realize he could sound like that–a creature that had lost itself in madness and fury–like he’d shed his skin to let something monstrous out.
You don’t become King of the Vampires by discussing sutures and how to sanitize surgical tools, she reminded herself. You always knew this was a part of him, you just didn’t dwell on it.
It wasn’t that she was unaware of it. After all, Lisa had heard the midnight wails of prisoners, victims and enemies rising from the depths of the castle. She had smelled the metallic residue of blood in the great hall after a night of envoys and intrigues. She’d felt vibrations from the weighted footfalls of the monsters that roamed the halls while she was tucked into bed. But those seemed like a separate reality compared to the courteous, cultured figure that was Vlad Dracula Tepes.
She never forgot he was supernatural of course; you simply couldn’t. It was in his height, his claws, his fangs, the way he moved, the glow of his eyes and the power that swirled around him like incense. But these things were simply a part of who he was, and not an indication of something she should fear.
Lisa understood that there was a darkness in him, but truly, what person couldn’t say the same? If there was one thing she had learned in her modest years, it was a commonality that threaded through humans and creatures alike. There was kindness even in the most terrifying beings and evil hiding behind the sweetest smile. To assume someone’s character based on rumor or physical form would be to cut yourself off from the opportunity of a lifetime.
It would have prevented you from knowing someone who has quite literally changed your life, she thought, eyes on the dark shape of the tower that was coming closer. Who treats you with more consideration and care than the holiest of men in your village. Who has given you the gift of a universe beyond anything you could have imagined, and the tools to understand the world you inhabit.
Fleetingly, Lisa thought that it was ironic. The church preached at length against the creatures of the night and proclaimed that God was the light, the way, and the truth. Vlad had brought more light and truth into her world than she’d ever found in the allegedly hallowed buildings of God. She was aware that to speak that aloud was blasphemy but if truth was the path to damnation, then she’d already decided her fate.
The door at the other side of the parapet loomed out of the darkness. Lisa was so happy to see it that she jogged the last ten feet. The icy cold iron of the door latch was a welcome discomfort against her palm and Lisa pulled the door open. The blast of heat was shocking, making her skin tingle and pushing the cold out behind her. It’s Vlad, she thought, shivering at the abrupt temperature change. His flames are heating the entire wing!
Pulling the door shut behind her, the floor shook under her feet. What is happening? she wondered fearfully.
Adjusting her grip on the silver dagger, the blonde strode down the hall, intent on the stairs. They would lead her to the floor with the staircase. From there, she could go down into Vlad’s wing. There was the click of heels and the swish of skirts echoing up the stairs. Lisa darted into one of the dark rooms, holding her breath. It was the first sign of occupancy she had encountered so far and might very well be deadly.
There was a soft rustle and an inhaled breath. “Lisa?” came Celia’s quiet voice. “I can smell you.”
Lisa’s initial relief that there was no threat from Celia dived into the concern that she would be sent back to her room. The vampiress could smell her, which probably translated into finding her hiding spot with relative ease.
But why isn’t she helping Vlad? the blonde wondered. Celia had always been unfailingly loyal to her King and it bewildered Lisa now that she would have left him in such a state.
“Vlad is…not well, Lisa,” Celia said, a quiet click of sound indicating movement. There was an unhappy note in her voice. “He would not wish for you to see him like this.”
Unwell in what way? Lisa wondered. At least he was not being attacked, but sickness was just as alarming. How virulent must the illness be to affect an immortal such as Vlad? How would he even experience sickness? What might it look like? Who was attending him? Was there something she could do to help?
“It is not safe for you to be out like this,” Celia continued, her footsteps moving down the hall. “You must return to your room.”
Lisa liked Celia but she was under no illusions; if she came out the vampiress would return them to her room. Not until I am sure Vlad is safe, the blonde thought. Not until I know that something isn’t horribly amiss.
Obviously Lisa did not wish to upset him, but if her mentor was sick enough that he was immolating and screaming, then he needed help. That was not the man she knew. There might be precious little she could do, but it had been Vlad himself that told her sometimes simply having someone care for them enabled the patient to recover.
And you care a great deal, don’t you? Lisa’s heart whispered.
Lisa looked around the room she was in. It was long and narrow, the tall window at the end illuminating the furnished space. There was no escape. She stepped toward the window, wondering if there might be a way out through it. Then she noticed the faint movement of the tapestry on the wall.
What is that? the young woman wondered and put out her hand. There was something behind it, something… Pulling back the cloth, she felt a surge of warmth. There was an inlaid latch and the shadowy outline of a door.
The fabric moved again, the edges drifting against the hem of her robe and she realized that the cold seeping from the window was encountering the hot air from the hidden door and creating eddies. Quickly, she pulled the tapestry back into place, and hid, snuggled between the fabric and the door.
“Lisa, please,” Celia’s voice came again, much closer now. There was an edge to the words that prickled the hair on her neck. “I must insist.”
Lisa hesitantly pulled the inlaid latch, half-expecting an answering screech from unoiled hinges. She should have known better; Vlad took meticulous care of his residence. The door opened soundlessly and Lisa quietly slipped through the opening. I’m sorry Celia, she thought, closing it behind her.
There was no light to guide Lisa and her journey was agonizingly slow–a tip-toeing exploration of each step with hands splayed to either side to grip unnaturally warm stone. The landing area was a godsend. It had felt like eternity but she only counted twenty one steps. It took her several moments to find the doorknob and even longer to gather her courage to open it. The unknown was on the other side.
The smell of Vlad was strong here and when the light blinked into being, she winced, turning from it in pain. Understanding where the light had come from and why, Lisa waited behind closed lids for her sight to adjust. In that darkness, she inhaled her mentor’s scent and tried to quell the fresh yearning.
She’d never been able to place what exactly was in Vlad’s fragrance. There were familiar notes she could pick out right away, like the earthy, crisp snap of iron gall ink from his writing and the vague hints of woodsmoke from the hearth fires he constantly had burning. But there were other, less definable things in there too. Subtle, twining fingers of watery blush, honied smoothness and velvety shadows. Sharp edges of strength falling into the mellow pages of warmth. Vlad’s scent was incredibly complex but she suspected it wasn’t intentional. More like a reflection of the multifaceted nature of the man himself.
Lisa wasn’t sure if he wore an actual perfume; those expensive oils that the priests and wealthy might wear to hide the smell of unwashed skin. But she doubted it. She couldn’t imagine what perfume could hold such a variety and depth. And as he didn’t advocate being unwashed, it was also unlikely he would bother with perfume. Vlad was meticulous with his hygiene and encouraged her to be as well.
One of the first lessons he’d given her was the importance of sanitary conditions for both doctor and patient. Fortunately, his castle was uniquely suited to maintaining personal cleanliness; he had conveniences the modern man could only dream of. She’d developed an addiction to the bathing spout that delivered warm water onto your person while you stood inside a small, tiled box; something Vlad termed a “standing bath.”
Although some modern conveniences took some getting used to, Lisa thought wryly, carefully opening her eyes. The abruptly harsh ‘daylight’ had a tendency to startle her. The self-lighting lanterns weren’t installed everywhere, mostly just in the rooms Vlad frequented. Taking in her surroundings, Lisa’s eyes widened in surprise, drawing both a wince and a rising flush to her cheeks. Somehow she’d found her way into Vlad’s wardrobe.
Respect his privacy and get out of here, she sternly told herself. Desperately curious, Lisa tried to focus on locating the door. It was only somewhat successful. Distractions kept interfering and, against her best intentions, they drew her eye.
The foreboding sheen of obsidian, blade-like armor hung like a threat from the far wall. She’d never seen Vlad in his armour but she could imagine the terrifyingly dangerous silhouette he would make in this, charging across the battlefield. There was a tall expanse of dark wooden drawers that stretched out in seemingly endless rows. Each drawer was adorned with an exquisitely gleaming, embossed handle, the expertly cut and polished ebony trimmed in gold. A collection of wooden busts were attired in magnificently embroidered cloaks that fell in long, dark swathes resembling wings. Opposite them, an extensive rack of colorful sashes reached toward a row of buffed, gleaming boots.
There was a gracefully elegant mirror that towered over the corner of the room with winged beasts and roiling clouds emerging from the silvery metal frame. On one side of it, a lofty, narrow chair with a steepled back and midnight silk seat. On the other side of the mirror was a long, narrow table with brushes, a lacquered bowl, squat glass bottles and a stand of ribbon.
The vanity of it all made her smile. Vlad was always meticulous with his appearance and obviously enjoyed the process of adornment. Lisa was less concerned with appearances but she enjoyed this little foible of his personality. It made him fallible in a way that she secretly adored.
At the end of the table stood a three-paneled screen. It rose in an appealing curve from delicately carved feet; the intricately painted blooms and inlaid pearl crafting a quietly peaceful scene. A cold hearth of stone sat ready; fresh wood stacked neatly beside it. Over the hearth there was an odd sword stand with three narrow blades of varying sizes and styles neatly perched.
The center of the room was a low, semi-circular case of mirrored glass that winked and glittered. As her eyes adjusted, she realized it was filled with metal and gemstones wrought into wondrous shapes fashioned for the throat, fingers and lapel. And just beyond it, she saw her exit, a tall, peaked door in a recessed overhang.
The space was alluring, compelling and utterly private. Lisa felt like a trespasser, however unintentionally, and did her best not to stare as she made her way through. It didn’t stop her fingers from trailing over the exquisitely fine needlework on a cloak she passed, or the gasp and pause when she peeked at the gemstones.
Anyone would have gaped at the stone that was the size of her fist and glowed like sunlight through a vial of water. It was suspended from heavy links of burnished metal and wherever Lisa stepped, it seemed to flicker like starlight. There were other treasures and more beauty and wealth than she could fathom but she turned away, highly conscious of her intrusion.
He never dresses like this with me, she thought and wondered. Vlad always dressed in a stylish and tasteful manner, but obviously she hadn’t had occasion to see his courtly attire.
On the other hand, why would he bother? she decided. I am not a subject or person of note, and who would bother with gems and finery to conduct experiments in? Hardly a sensible notion.
It was foolish, but that didn’t stop the vision. It was all too easy to imagine him in the maroon cloak with the picked gold threads and embroidered dragon wings dipping from the shoulders. Perhaps the thumb-sized mossy green stone for his throat and the black vest with the shimmering sash. A pair of those tall, ruddy boots burnished so bright that the candles would reflect on their surface. She could imagine Vlad on his throne like that: regal, striking, and magnificent.
And how would you ever know, Lisa? she asked herself gently. As she reached the door, she looked back and took a deep breath filled with his scent. You’ll never see him in court and that’s a good thing. You’ve caused him nothing but trouble; imagine the riot that would happen if you appeared in court.
It wasn’t like her to be so fanciful, and there were more important things to worry about right now. You are wasting precious time. She placed her hand on the doorknob. It was unnaturally warm and when she turned it, the overpowering scent of ash and charred wood was released.
The light was low but the heat dried the air in her throat. In the dim illumination, the ruins of furniture were present in the burned lumps of charcoal and misshapen figures of once-beautiful objects. There was a strong element of blood in the hot atmosphere and it gagged her with its sweltering suggestion.
Carefully she stepped from the door, mindful to close it and protect the beautiful wardrobe from the horror of this room. Scorched stone was a heated press through the soles of her boots, and unease made her voice quieter than she’d intended. “Vlad?” she whispered into the dim light. There was a sharp inhale somewhere to her right and she stepped toward it. “Celia said you were sick. I’m sorry to intrude but I wanted to make sure you–.”
“Go away,” Vlad hissed, the complex emotion in his voice skittering over her skin like the scratch of his talons. The sound was foreign to her, filled with a rage so real she felt it scorch her skin. “You should not be here.”
Something was very wrong. His emotions were another entity in the room, and the volatility of them immediately tensed her nerves. She reminded her heart not to pound so loud. Vlad would hear it and think the wrong thing.
“I apologize,” she repeated, eyes craning toward the source of his voice. “But obviously you are not well. Someone needs to take care of you.”
“Obviously?” Vlad snarled. His voice was behind her now and she jerked in surprise. “I am not sick. Not in that way.” His voice was to her left. No, her right. She could not tell where he was in the room. It was just like the first night they’d met, and she knew better than to chase him.
“Now go,” he ordered. It was as real a command as any he’d give his subjects. The inherent urge to obey wasn’t a surprise but the decree itself was.
It’s as if I am a stranger to him once more, she thought with concern, picking her way carefully around the rubble. The cold, suspicious threat is back, as is the simmering anger I sensed from our first meeting. Did I do something? Has there been some suggestion of my intentions? Something that he believed?
Lisa came to a halt near a pillar. She put her hand out to steady herself and encountered something warm and sticky. Startled, she jerked her hand back, bringing it to her face to peer at it. The scent of hot blood under her nose, had her gorge rising.
Someone’s blood; someone’s blood is spattered here. The concern that drove her to Vlad’s side now morphed into a worry of another sort. What caused this? she wondered. Was my first instinct right? Did someone challenge him? Is that why he is so defensive and outraged?
“Are you wounded then?” she asked calmly. “There is blood here.”
The reply came, a shadowy warning. “There is blood all over this room. It is not mine.”
“What happened?” Lisa asked quietly.
“I had a drink,” Vlad retorted. “Several of them, in fact.”
“You had–?” Her brain was floundering, unable to comprehend his meaning. She knew what Vlad was, who he was, and what it meant. She knew her mentor was a vampire, and she’d accepted that meant there was death at his hands. But ‘several of them’ suggested a murderous intent that she didn’t understand, and a violence that she struggled to reconcile with the man she knew. Thankfully there were no bodies that she could see, but the space reeked of death, despair and fury.
More from him than anyone else, she reminded herself. Whatever was happening here, she must help.
“And this was the result?” she slowly asked, extending her hand to encompass the bloody pillar and burned husk of his quarters. Her mind was racing, trying to determine what she could offer, and what possible thing could have prompted this.
Vlad scoffed, an ungracious sound of irritation and derision. It had her brows rising with shock. Her mentor was never like this with her. He never mocked her questions or showed impatience. For that matter, he was never wantonly violent or threatening, either, she thought.
It was as though some part of himself had been forgotten or lost. The man she knew had been replaced with an angry, menacing presence that spat venom and indulged excessiv—He’s drunk, she realized with a jolt. It fit everything she was seeing–the loss of control, brusque demeanor, Celia’s assertion of being unwell, his cryptic ‘not in that way’ response to the question of being ill, and the violence.
The revelation was utterly shocking to her. She never, ever would have believed Vlad would willingly surrender his control, much less in such a banal and appalling manner. It shifted her opinion of her mentor, and complicated the image she held of him.
Regardless of how this fact personally impacted her, it helped to understand what the issue was. Drunks were a common enough situation in Lisa’s village, and everyone knew the best course of action was to cut the supply of drink and put the imbiber to bed.
“I believe that’s enough, Lord Tepes,” Lisa said soothingly, subtly peering around. He remained in the shadows and refused to show himself.
“And who are you to say?” the vampire lord demanded, his voice perilously close to her right shoulder. Despite herself, she startled and whirled towards the sound. His little scare tactic was unintentionally helpful; she spied a particularly large spatter of blood on the floor. Lisa edged toward it with the intention of investigating.
“What right do you think you have to be here?” he continued.
I’ve no right, Lisa thought, disappointment a slap against her heart, and regret a sharp tang in her mouth. Just someone who believed you were above this sort of behavior. Someone who unwisely hoped that you might consider me a friend.
Regardless of whether she had a right to be there or not, Lisa was indebted to him for his past generosity. It was a kindness to halt Vlad’s self-destructive episode, and one she was sure he would appreciate when he returned to himself.
“You’ve taught me about poisons my lord,” she reminded him, slowly moving toward the dark pool of crimson. It would be better to know the source she would need to separate him from. “It is clear that excessive blood isn’t good for you.” Was it coming from the castle itself, or stored in a vessel? Who was providing it? A servant or his own supply? Perhaps Celia may yet provide assistance…
There. A pitcher lolled on its side at the edge of the wide spill of vermilion. Alongside it, an enormous goblet filled with several cups of blood. If only she could knock it over too, that might end this imprudence.
“Your indulgence has made you unwell,” Lisa added, angling herself to block his line of sight to the drink.
“My indulgence has kept me sane,” Dracula asserted, abruptly flaring into existence directly in front of her. It was a deliberate act of power and terror, and she couldn’t hold back her frightened gasp. Since their first meeting, he had always been so careful not to startle her, and to maintain cordiality between them. Having him intentionally frighten her was alarming all on its own. The looming, rigidly threatening man who stared her down with burning eyes was someone else.
He will not hurt you, she coached herself. Vlad wasn’t an unreasonably violent man. His normal kindness was twisted by the drinking perhaps, but fundamentally, he was still the man she knew. He would keep his vow of protection.
“This is quite enough,” she said briskly, sweeping the scene in with one hand. “It’s time for you to retire for the evening.”
“I don’t want you here!” her mentor thundered, the endlessly tall shape ominously gliding to the side of her vision like a wolf circling prey.
What are you doing, Lisa asked herself wildly, staring at the face of a stranger as alarmed self-preservation hacked at her nerves. He doesn’t want you here and he doesn’t want your help. It is idiocy to continue!
Get a hold of yourself, she lectured silently. He needs your aid, not your misgivings.
“Well that goes for both of us,” she said smartly, carefully moving back. It appeared to be a response to his advance but in truth she was stealthily easing herself between the goblet and Vlad. “I’d rather retire for the evening, wouldn’t you, my lord?”
You’re better than this, she added silently. This is not the man I know.
“Be gone!” he ordered, flames leaping from his eyes so abruptly that Lisa inadvertently jumped back, her heel solidly toppling the goblet. The clang of metal and the wet snap of liquid on stone brought a moment of relief that died under his snarl. “You do not belong here!”
It was a blink of her eye–a dark, streaking shadow–and the goblet hurtled across the room to smash into the wall. It crumpled like an insect caught under an angry palm. The sheer force left an exploded star pattern in the stone and Lisa felt real fear creep down her spine.
“You don’t either!” she snapped back, fear and concern a potent prompt that overruled her normal deference. “Carrying on like this!” She reached out to him, intending to soothe. “You need to stop this. You’re far too intelligent a man to–!”
A taloned hand streaked out and wrapped around her wrist. Terror was something she’d never experienced in his presence, not since their initial meeting when he’d stalked her in his foyer. But Lisa felt it now. Vlad wasn’t hurting her but he was overwhelmingly powerful, the span of his hand as solid as a yoke on oxen and holding her just as firmly. He only held her wrist but she was under no illusion that she could fight back. Lisa was utterly helpless, pinned like a rabbit under the paw of a wolf.
His face was a distorted mask of fury, something alien and violent creeping just under his skin. “You know nothing,” Dracula hissed, eyes flashing crimson in a blinding flare. The grief in his voice was the despair of a thousand wailing mothers, young limbs torn from the warm, trusting cradle at the nurturing breast. “Nothing. She was everything.”
She?
The world receded for just a moment, anxiety falling away as Lisa was caught in the pronoun that explained so much, and offered up a million more questions than time could possibly answer.
Oh, Vlad.
Her heart opened dangerously wide to him, empathy a vast bridge of understanding that towered over fear. Loss was a difficult burden within the span of a human lifetime. Loss for someone who lived beyond the memory of history? She truly couldn’t fathom it. It stretched as an impossible grief beyond comprehension.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured sorrowfully. “I didn’t know.”
Surprise was lightning spearing the clouds of fury in his eyes. Wrath wavered, dimmed. As though he couldn’t imagine someone might regret his pain. It hurt Lisa’s heart, and was matched by the spreading numbness in her wrist. Only one could be denied.
“My Lord, please,” she asked, bringing her other hand up to the grip holding her wrist. It was an imploring brush of her fingertips against his skin. “Let me go.”
The unearthly crimson gleam of his gaze vanished in a blink, and Vlad released her as though she had stuck him with a venomous barb. He stepped back, turning aside. The dark waterfall of his cape seemed to spread as though it were wings that would carry him away.
“My apologies, Lisa of Lupu,” he said gruffly. The bowed hunch of his back was an intricate design of shame and regret. “You have come upon me in an unseemly moment. Forgive me.”
The residual fear fled in an instant. This was the man she knew. The man whose eyes sparkled when they spoke of medicine, whose voice carried awe when reciting the constellations. The man who breathed control like oxygen, and whom she now knew was plagued by secret sorrow. Until this moment, she would never have considered he might give into grief in such a manner. This man was far more human than she had remotely considered possible. Forgiveness wasn’t even a question.
“You need not apologize,” she said gently, a small smile encouraging him to turn. “I startled you in a private and painful moment. It’s certainly understandable.”’
“Is it?” her mentor whispered, the black span of his cape rippling from the movement of his shoulders. He stepped away, toward the tall door. The distance he put between them seemed an intentional finality that worried her. “I will have Celia escort you to your room.”
Concern of a different nature rose up. Vlad wouldn’t look at her, and his voice was softly apologetic. While Lisa could understand shame, she didn’t think he had anything to be ashamed of. It was perfectly understandable how such a thing might drive one to drink from time to time. Grief was an unforgiving animal and even a man as formidable as Vlad could fall victim.
But she also knew her mentor had tremendous pride. It had always been consummately clear how important discipline was to him. To lose face like this in front of his student would be difficult for him to bear.
“Vlad,” she said urgently, stepping swiftly toward him.
If anything, he seemed to move quicker, as if eager to leave her behind. Concern bloomed into fear. Had she overstepped so far as to be unforgiven? Did he understand that her intentions had been good ones?
Or did you invade his privacy and force a confrontation? insight demanded. Did you insert yourself into his affairs with an assumption of privilege that you most certainly do not have?
What right do you think you have to be here?
Panic rose anew. Had she made a terrible mistake? Had she ensured her own departure? The idea of leaving was unbearable; sudden emotion flooding her heart with excruciating pain. The scorched ruins made the ground uneven under her feet, debris crunching like dried bones.
She stumbled in her haste and when her ankle turned, she yelped sharply. Arms flung out for a support that wasn’t there, all Lisa could think as she fell was that the brilliantly white kosode* was going to be irreparably stained and it would be one more thing she’d done wrong.
🀦🀩
Every day, I keep thinking
About you and I
How good we are together
When we’re alone together
Can you tell why
Can you tell me why you keep your distance like this?
I wanna feel your touch
I wanna feel you
Will you ever?
Will you ever let me in?
Let me in
You read me well
Better than I read myself
I like
I like you best
-“Touch,” Ghostly Kisses (acoustic)