A/N: This is chapter one of what I expect to be a fifteen chapter story, give or take. It's mostly completed with a few minor things I'm still working on. I'm using American dialect and spelling for the sake of consistency in my writing. I apologize in advance if anyone is unhappy about it. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoy the story.
On the morning of his sixteenth birthday Vlad awoke with a terrible feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. It was the day of his transformation, and his last morning of being even remotely normal. He lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering if he should even bother getting up – not that it would make any difference. Vlad knew that even if he skipped school his father would drag him downstairs for the transformation whether he was in his pajamas or not. If he only had one day left, he wasn't going to spend it hiding in his bed.
Throwing off his blankets, he got up and opened the heavy window shutters, allowing the early rays of sunlight to pour inside and illuminate the dreary tower room. He took a deep breath of fresh morning air, savoring the warmth of the sun on his face. Sunlight… that's what he was going to miss the most. Soon he wouldn't be able to touch the light without being burned. He held one hand in the sunbeam, turning it over and watching the light play against his skin. No smoke, no pain. Not yet. If only he had more time. Vlad reluctantly turned his back on the sun and went to get dressed.
When Vlad entered the kitchen the Count, Ingrid, Zoltan, and Renfield were already waiting for him. He wished they would have forgotten it was his birthday, but the Count had circled the day on the calendar with bold red ink as a reminder. He was met by a chorus of birthday greetings from all except Ingrid, who ignored him.
"Are you looking forward to your transformation, Master Vlad?" Zoltan asked.
"Of course he's looking forward to it," the Count said, resting his hands on Vlad's shoulders and steering him to a seat at the table. "Today my Vladdy becomes a true vampire. What do you want Renfield to get you for breakfast? Blended leeches? Or maybe a nice fresh rabbit?" The Count sat on the edge of the table rather than his usual chair.
"Sorry, I'm not really hungry," Vlad replied, his stomach turning slightly at the thought of killing a bunny rabbit for breakfast.
"I understand completely." The Count tousled Vlad's hair affectionately. "You're too excited to eat. I felt the same way before my transformation. Tonight we can go out hunting, just you and me."
"You never took me hunting with you when I was his age," Ingrid grumbled.
Not bothering to look at her, he replied, "And I don't take you hunting now either."
"Stealing livestock doesn't qualify as hunting," she sneered. "And Vladdy will probably faint at the first sight of blood."
Vlad tuned out the snippy argument that followed, slouching in his chair. It was the same as always with them. Ingrid resented Vlad for being the Count's favorite, and made her feelings clear by ridiculing him for his lack of vampiric qualities. Vlad had to agree with Ingrid; she made a better vampire than he would ever be. He checked his watch and stood up from the table. "I'm going to school." But the Count and Ingrid were so busy bickering they didn't hear him. He shook his head as hoisted his bag onto his shoulder and left.
Vlad was distracted the entire day at school, anxious about the blood mirror that awaited him when he returned home. As he and Robin walked back to the castle Vlad's thoughts were still fixated on the transformation. Robin was in the middle of talking about how he was sure he had failed the history assignment they had turned in that day when he noticed Vlad wasn't paying attention. Robin waved his hand in front of Vlad's face. "Hello? Reality to Vlad. Is anyone there?"
"I'm listening."
"Really?" Robin raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at Vlad's feet.
Looking down, Vlad saw that he had walked off the curb and was actually hovering above the street. He cursed and dropped back to the ground. His powers had started to manifest in the last few weeks, and he sometimes forgot to control them. He glanced around, searching for possible witnesses. "You don't think anyone saw, do you?"
"No." Robin seemed to guess the reason behind Vlad's carelessness and asked, "So you're really going through with it? The transformation?"
"What choice do I have? I haven't found a cure, and you remember what happened on Ingrid's sixteenth birthday when she lost her nerve and tried to run." Vlad sighed, looking up the hill to the castle. "It's useless. I'm just going to have to confront the blood mirror and hope for the best."
Robin nudged him lightly with his elbow and smiled. "Don't worry Vlad, It'll be all right - as long as you don't hypnotize me to wear a pink apron like Boris did."
Memories of his cousin Boris after the transformation invaded Vlad's thoughts. They had gotten along well until Boris underwent his transformation, when he became evil and stole power from the blood mirror. Before he was loaded onto the train in restraints Boris warned Vlad that he would also turn evil when his time came. And his time was now. Vlad quickly pushed the unwelcome thought from his mind. He rubbed at his neck and sped up his pace towards the castle. The sun was beginning to feel uncomfortably hot.
They could hear bells tolling inside the castle as they approached, and found the Count waiting for them at the door. "Do you hear that?" It was a rhetorical question; the Count was nearly shouting to be heard. "Those bells have been ringing all day to summon you to your transformation! Where have you been?"
"At school, like I am every day," Vlad said as they stepped inside. The ringing stopped the instant he crossed the threshold.
"School," the Count muttered with exasperation. "At least there won't be any more of that."
The Count led the way to the blood mirror room beneath the castle. Vlad wore black from head to toe, almost identical to Robin's usual attire. The Count wouldn't hear of him going to the blood mirror in his school clothes, and had pushed him upstairs to change into something 'appropriate', muttering something about no son of his becoming a vampire while looking like a peasant on the feast day of Saint Gertrude.
Robin walked next to Vlad and Ingrid trailed behind, either out of boredom or because she expected him to try to make a run for it. He was glad to have Robin there, even if he didn't share Vlad's feelings about the fate that awaited him.
As they continued down the spiraling stone staircase and damp, torch-lit passageways into the increasingly cold depths of the castle Vlad felt like he was being led to the gallows, each step bringing him closer to his demise. His hope to find a cure had allowed him in some way to deny this day would ever come, but now he had to accept the reality of it: there would be no cure. Vlad's despair distracted him from his surroundings, and he was surprised when they arrived at the large door guarded by two dusty suits of armor.
Ingrid promptly sat down in an alcove and flipped open a copy of Gothmopolitan. "Don't take all day," she snapped at Vlad. "I have better things to do than wait around for you to be ripped to pieces by your reflection."
"Don't listen to her, Vladdy," the Count said. "We Dracula men have always excelled at transformations. Make me proud."
Robin awkwardly patted Vlad's shoulder in what he guessed was supposed to be an encouraging manner. "Good luck, Vlad." Robin moved away and Vlad was left facing the room of the blood mirror. The door opened for him on its own. Without looking back, he took a deep breath and walked through the doorway. He jumped when the heavy door slammed shut behind him with a bang and the heavy beam swung into place on the other side to lock it. Now there was no way out.
The room was the same as Vlad remembered it from the past; nearly empty except for the tall mirror standing at the far side. A few flickering candelabras cast eerie shadows against the walls. He hadn't seen the blood mirror in years, but it too looked the same. The carved dragon head peered at him from the top of the mirror frame as though daring him to come closer. He cautiously approached the mirror, unsure of what would happen next.
Standing in front of the blood mirror, Vlad saw a reflection of himself, but he immediately noticed there was something different about it. His basic features were the same, blue eyes and the 'classic bone structure' the Count was so happy Vlad had inherited, but his skin was much paler than usual. His hair was a different style, a bit shorter than he'd been wearing it lately and combed back. His reflection seemed to stand taller than he did, with an aura of confidence and wearing a smirk that Vlad knew didn't match his expression at the moment. As he stared at his reflection, Vlad had to admit... he looked good.
"What are you staring at?" The reflection spoke suddenly, startling Vlad.
"Sorry, I didn't- It's just that you look different from me." Vlad's reflection had never talked to him before. It was quite unnerving.
"Well what did you expect? A frightened imitation of a breather? Because that's what you look like to me."
"I'm not an 'imitation of a breather', I'm a…" but Vlad couldn't finish the sentence.
"Do you see?" he asked smugly. "I'm the real you – a vampire."
The reflection's eyes glowed red to emphasize his point, and Vlad could see the tips of his fangs when he spoke. He took an involuntary step back from the mirror. "But you look evil."
"That's because I am evil. It comes with the fangs and blood-drinking bit. Is that going to be a problem for us?" he sneered at Vlad.
Vlad cringed inwardly at the way his reflection referred to them as 'us'. "You may be evil but I'm not."
The reflection laughed. "Wrong. We're the same, you and I. Surely you've felt it growing within you these past few weeks… an indefinable craving, a restlessness that you can't subdue." Vlad felt a chill run down his spine, and he was forced to look away. "It's the predatory instinct. It's the bloodlust, and it's a part of you, just like I am. With time you'll come to see the truth."
Vlad drew himself up to his full height and stared into his reflection's eyes. "I'm nothing like you. I go to school and I have friends. I'm not evil. And none of that is going to change. Do you understand me?"
Instead of responding to his question the reflection gave Vlad a fanged grin and said, "I'm getting tired of this mirror. I think it's time for us to get out of here, don't you agree?" He stretched out his hands to push through the glass.
As the mirror distorted and the reflection's ghostly arms broke through, Vlad began to regret not running when he had the chance. The only option left was to stand his ground and take control. Without thinking, Vlad reached out and grabbed his reflection's hands, pushing against them. Almost as soon as they touched Vlad felt a searing pain spread throughout every inch of his body. He may have been screaming but he didn't care; he felt as though his skin had been ripped away and he'd been doused in hot oil. Fortunately enough, he quickly lost consciousness.