This story is dedicated to Starrrz, whose excellent Young Dracula stories inspired me to write my own.
Two loud knocks split the morning air. Vladimir Dracula's blood ran cold as the door to the tower bedroom burst open, and Renfield's unsightly grin peered around the doorjamb.
"Happy Birthday, Master Vlad. Your father is— Oh!" Vlad did his best to stash the evidence beneath his pyjama shirt, but by then it was too late. Renfield blinked, taking in the hastily covered bulge in Vlad's lap with a blank stare, though shock soon gave way to understanding.
The manservant brought his hands to his eyes in a belated show of deference; still, Vlad caught him peeking through warty fingers.
"Renfield, do you mind?" Vlad clutched at the fabric of his duvet. His neck and ears burned under the scrutiny. "What is the point of knocking if you don't even wait for permission to enter?"
Renfield cringed. "My apologies. It won't happen again." He flashed uneven yellow teeth in a lewd approximation of a smile. "Though I must say, your Highness, you have nothing to be ashamed of. I'm sure your father would be pleased to hear that you…."
"The Count," Vlad gritted out, "is not to be informed of any of this. Is that clear?"
"Yes, of course," Renfield said, finally tearing his gaze from Vlad's lap. "The Master is downstairs, awaiting your arrival."
"Tell him I'll be right down." Vlad's mouth was dry as dust. "And nothing else."
The manservant bowed deeply. "Of course." Renfield made a swift retreat; but not before shooting Vlad one last lascivious smirk.
When it was safe, Vlad uncrossed his knees, carefully pried the fabric of his shirt up and over his charge's head, and lifted the kitten to nose-level. He stared into its big, innocent blue eyes.
"That was close." He shuddered to think of what had very nearly become of the poor thing.
He placed the cat on the bed, untying the blood-red bow around its fragile neck with shaking fingers. Raising his hand in front of the kitten's wide, empty stare, Vlad snapped his fingers.
The feline's pupils sharpened into thin slits. It yawned daintily, stretching its front legs and digging its tiny claws into the duvet. It seemed unconcerned with how close it had been to certain death just moments before.
Sensing its newfound freedom, the kitten wiggled its hindquarters, leaping to the floor. It scampered across the room and, with one last curious look in his direction, dove behind the curtains.
And with that, his humiliation was complete. Vlad groaned, sagging against his pillows. It seemed a fitting beginning for what would almost certainly be the worst day of his un-life. So far, his brain unhelpfully supplied.
He'd awoken that morning the same way he had all week: by falling with a crash onto his bed. Only this time, upon rolling over to check the time, he had found himself face to face with a cat, of all things.
It had come with a sarcastic card from his sister—practice makes perfect; Bon Appetite!—which Vlad had promptly set ablaze.
Biting the damn thing hadn't even been an inkling in his mind; at least, until the kitten jumped onto his bed and tried crawling up his shirt. The sound of the kitten's heartbeat had overwhelmed him, made him ache… and then, before he knew it, he'd had his face buried in its fluffy jugular.
If Renfield hadn't interrupted him right when he had…. Vlad put his head in his hands. He was out of control.
The past week he'd already had one or two awkward encounters with Robin, not to mention the postman; and Chloe... and the librarian. True, no one had gotten hurt. At least, not yet.
He took a deep lungful of air, and counted to ten, thinking of the breathing exercises that he and Robin had practiced the week before. They had found them on the internet, and hoped focusing on the breath might help Vlad manage his cravings—at least for the time being, since, as Chloe had been quick to point out, Vlad wouldn't be doing much breathing in a week.
Vlad's stomach growled loudly, making its own thoughts on the matter very clear.
He glanced sullenly across the room toward where the kitten, having discovered an old pair of trainers, had promptly declared war on the laces, and was now tumbling over itself in its effort to extricate its claws.
A beam of sunlight shone through the curtains, casting the edges of the kitten's white fur in a soft halo.
Vlad crossed to the window, interrupting the beam with his hand. He half-expected to see smoke, but, to his relief, the only sensation was a soothing warmth against his skin.
He still had time.
Vlad shoved the curtains aside, propping his elbows against the window ledge, and allowed himself to bask in the gentle heat of the morning sun.
The sun. That was what he'd miss the most, Vlad decided. He sighed, resting his chin on his hand, gazing out at the garden. On any other day, it would have been beautiful.
He tugged at his lower lip with his fingers absentmindedly. His knuckle grazed against something sharp. His stomach sank.
Reluctantly, he slid the curtains shut, once more surrounded by darkness. Crossing to his mirror, he grimaced; it hadn't been his imagination, then. There, glinting in the torchlight, were two pairs of wickedly sharp fangs.
Well.. that was new. Hesitantly, Vlad pushed the pad his finger against the tip of one canine and winced as it came away red.
Another minute passed as Vlad stared at himself. It was strange how, apart from the teeth, he still looked for all the world like the anxious, fearful teenager that he was. There was no sign whatsoever of the evil, bloodthirsty killer that lurked within. He thought about what had happened to Boris, and shivered.
He wiped at his treacherous eyes with the back of his hand. These were his last few hours of being human. Best not to sully the memory with tears.
By the time Vlad started down the stairs, scuffing his heels along the stone steps as he went, he was in a right, proper sulk. It wasn't fair—in a way, vampires had to go through puberty twice.
If only the "changes" his body was going through now were more like the normal, teenage breather variety. Getting spots, or hair in strange places, he could handle. He snorted at the thought.
If only Renfield had caught him wanking, instead of attempting to destroy an innocent baby animal. Vlad honestly would have preferred it.
He rounded the corner, running straight into his father. The Count grinned happily at the sight of him. "Good morning, my favorite child. Now... let me see those fangs!"
Vlad glared at Renfield, who shook his head emphatically from the side of the hall and drew an 'X' solemnly over his heart.
The Count tugged Vlad's jaw to get a closer look. Vlad resisted, pursing his lips. Although normally he put up with his father's antics, the last thing he wanted was to draw even more attention to his approaching doom.
His father's eyes glowed red in warning. "Vladimir…"
Vlad sighed, but at the look on his father's face reluctantly opened his mouth.
The Count tugged his chin from side to side, tutting appreciatively. "Wonderful, wonderful! They look so good on you." Vlad said nothing, and the Count shot him a pointed look. "Vampire, Vlad" he said, stretching out the word. "Say it with me. There's no point in denying it, today of all days."
"Then spare me the lecture, emtoday of all days/em," Vlad grumbled. The Count wagged a finger at him.
"Tick tock, Vladdy. Tick. Tock. And speaking of; would you look at the time? The bell should be tolling any minute, now." The Count rubbed his hands together. "Well, what are you waiting for?" He waved impatiently in the direction of the dining room table. "Sit, sit sit sit. Eat your breakfast."
Vlad took as long as possible crossing the room to his seat. He couldn't wait for Robin to get here. He could use a dose of normalcy, right about now.
Although in Robin's case... Well, he supposed normality was relative.
His spirits perked a little when he noticed the table was piled high with gifts. He'd even gotten one from Ingrid, judging by the wrapping (black leather studded with wooden spikes), which honestly surprised him. Not the hostile packaging, of course, but… when was the last time Ingrid actually bothered getting him two gifts?
He supposed it would be something disgusting, like a dead rat, or worse: A live one.
Vlad's eyes met Will's from across the table. He was whispering something to Ingrid, who looked unusually pensive this morning. Her frown quickly swapped for a scowl the moment she noticed him looking.
Vlad licked at his teeth absent-mindedly. He was hungry, damnit. And his gums ached.
They'd been bothering him for weeks—not that he'd said anything about it. His father would have thrown a party. Still, the last few days it had gotten really bad. After this morning, Vlad still wasn't sure which was worse: the pangs, or the fangs.
He resisted the urge to wallow in self-pity. It was a struggle.
Unable to put it off any longer, Vlad took his seat at the table, staring witheringly down at the reddish-brown sludge in his bowl. "What is emthat/em?" he sniffed at it suspiciously, though the strong whiff of iron made its identity unmistakable.
He squirmed in his chair. He hated to admit it; but whatever was in that bowl smelled amazing.
"That'd be pig's blood and otter's bile, Master Vlad," Renfield piped up from the side of the room. "Freshly harvested. With just a hint of cinnamon." He grinned. "The Master said you wouldn't be wanting any solid food."
The Count appeared beside him, cape twirling. "You know, Vlad, this was my favorite home-cooked recipe as a fledgling. It'll clear that tooth discomfort right up."
Vlad slouched deeper in his chair.
"You're not the first vampire who's ever had to go through the transformation." The Count rolled his eyes. "Besides, you keep licking your teeth. It's obvious." He gestured at Vlad's bowl. "Drink up. You'll be needing your strength."
Vlad pushed the bowl away in feigned disgust. "I don't feel much like eating." He wrinkled his nose. "I'm not hungry."
His stomach chose that moment to loudly announce its disagreement to the room. Ingrid sniggered at him from across the table.
"Idiot. Who are you trying to fool? Your fangs are in, you've got to be starving." An angelic expression spread over her pale features. "Unless… you've already eaten?" Ingrid smiled sweetly. Vlad glowered at her. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"
It took all of Vlad's willpower not to lunge across the table. His nails dug painfully into his palms.
The doorbell rang. Vlad leapt up, grateful for the excuse to escape his sister's insinuations. "That'll be Robin."
The front doors swung open as he approached, creaking loudly. His visitor beamed at him.
"Today's the day, Vlad!" Robin's smile faltered somewhat at the foul look on Vlad's face. He quickly changed the subject. "Did you get a lot of presents, then?"
Vlad shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."
Robin cleared his throat awkwardly, and jerked a thumb back in the direction of the castle gates. "I'm not sure how I ever make it to the front door these days. I'm pretty sure the castle spends its spare hours plotting new ways to kill me."
As if by way of answer, a loud, evil cackle rose up from the castle grounds, the sky momentarily darkening as storm clouds crackled ominously overhead.
Vlad lips twisted into a grin. "I'd say not to take it personally, but… it's definitely personal."
Robin laughed.
Vlad's neck pricked with guilt; he was being a complete git, and he knew it. "Sorry. Today's just..."
"I know." Robin smiled, patting Vlad's shoulder. "Come on, your dad's probably going nuts in there without you."
Vlad barked out a laugh, a sarcastic retort already forming on his lips, but before he could utter a word a wave of Robin's scent hit him straight on.
The teen's face looked fuzzy- a bit blurred at the edges, as if surrounded by a fine, pink mist.
Vlad's mouth watered. Unbidden, his gaze wandered drawn to a small patch of skin just barely visible above his friend's collar.
Distantly, he registered that someone was speaking, but he couldn't make sense of any it; not over the sound of his prey's heart.
Robin rolled his eyes. Vlad was doing it again—staring at him like he was fresh meat. The vampire stepped toward him, as if in a trance. Robin sighed.
"Vlad, snap out of it. You have to breathe." He shoved at the other boy's chest with all of his weight, but it was no use—Vlad was like a rock, impossible to budge. A thrill went through him as Vlad's hand shot out and gripped him by the wrist.
Privately, Robin thought the whole 'predatory' look was rather fetching on him, but knew Vlad would never get over himself if he slipped up and bit him.
Pity, really.
Vlad's hand clamped like a vice on Robin's shoulder, shaking him from his thoughts.
A shiver ran through him. What was he doing just standing there? Robin bit his lip, fully aware of how badly this could end if he didn't do something quick, and draw back his free arm, using the added momentum to slap Vlad smartly across the face.
For a moment, the vampire's face twisted in rage; but it was gone in a flash. In its place was a look of pure bewilderment. Robin breathed a sigh of relief.
It was strange, Robin thought to himself as he waited. This wasn't the first time this had happened; not even the first time this week. Even so, this time was somehow different. Vlad was different.
Vlad's hand was still gripping tightly at his shoulder, nails pricking painfully at the tender skin beneath his collar. Robin shivered, his thoughts on the bottle Chloe had stashed in the inner pocket of his jacket. Though Robin never once doubted that he could escape if he really wanted, for the first time he found himself grateful for his sister's paranoia.
It was taking much longer than it usually did. The other times Vlad had gone beserk, he'd come back to his senses in a matter of seconds. Robin frowned, surprised to find himself out of breath. It was almost like he was afraid, except... well, whatever he felt, he didn't think it was fear. Not fear, exactly.
Vlad's eyes widened, and he snatched his hand away from Robin as quickly as if it were burned. "All right?" Robin asked.
"...Robin?"
"Yeah. It's still... just me."
The first thing Vlad noticed was Robin's nose, which seemed to be taking up much more of his visual field than usual. He'd never realized Robin had so many freckles.
The second thing was a pair of dark brown orbs staring down at him.
Vlad's stomach lurched, and he realized just how tightly his hand was curled over Robin's collarbone. He leapt backward, eager to put some distance between them. "All right?"
Robin asked.
Vlad covered his mouth as a dull flush spread all the way to his ears. How long had they been standing there like that? "Robin?" he squeaked between his fingers.
"Yeah, it's still... just me."
"I am so sorry. It's been..." Vlad pulled his hand away and stared at the ground. "It's been one hell of a day."
"The transformation has started already, hasn't it."
Vlad shot a guilty look up at Robin. Robin's expression was hard to read, though he didn't seem angry. More... aware. Like he was seeing him for the first time.
Vlad swallowed. That was two near misses, today. There wouldn't be a third.
"You should leave," he muttered, looking past Robin's shoulder. "It's not safe for you here—it was stupid to invite you." When Robin didn't budge, Vlad bared his fangs at him.
"Go home, Robin."
A goofy grin lit up Robin's face. "Aw, your fangs came in, then? They look great."
"I said go." The words rumbled deep in his chest, taking on a supernatural edge.
Vlad's eyes widened, and he brought a hand to his Adam's apple self-consciously. He hated when his voice did that. He coughed. "Please, Robin." Great. Very scary, Vlad.
Robin snorted. "As if you could get rid of me."
Vlad hissed, but Robin quickly fished a small spray bottle from his breast pocket and brandished it in front of Vlad's nose. "Might want to rethink your tactics, my fiendish friend. You should know I'm armed."
Vlad's head spun as he caught a whiff of its contents. Garlic.
"Like that, do you? That's not all." Robin leaned closer with a conspiratorial wink, pulling his collar aside and exposing his neck even further.
"Don't…" Vlad croaked. It was then that he noticed the huge amulet hanging around his best friend's throat. "What... is that?"
Affixed to the amulet's center was a tiny red stone, surrounded by dozens of concentric rings of silvery wire. The medallion itself was suspended by a thick chain.
Vlad's brows lifted into his hairline. "Is that…?" He frowned disapprovingly. "You didn't get that from the Van Helsings, did you?"
"Do I look like an idiot?" Robin paused. "Don't answer that. Chloe and I ordered it last week, just came in this morning." His eyes lit up. "It's pure argentallium—one hundred percent biter-proof. Do you like it?"
He tucked the amulet back under his shirt, the motion drawing Vlad's gaze once more to the lily-white skin of his friend's collarbone. With some effort, Vlad managed to refocus on Robin's face.
"Trust me," the taller boy was saying with a confidence Vlad wished he shared, "I've never been safer."
Sadly, Vlad thought, that much was probably true. Still, that didn't mean he had to like it.
"Are you sure it's worth missing your exam for this?"
Robin snorted in amusement. "My C in Trigonometry isn't going anywhere. Besides, you couldn't pay me to miss this."
Vlad wanted to argue, but knew it wouldn't do him any good. Robin had made up his mind, and that was that.
Robin noticed the change in Vlad's demeanor, and patted Vlad's head patronisingly. "No more excuses, I'm coming in."
As they stepped into the hall, the castle gleefully slammed the doors behind them, striking Robin in the bottom in the process and causing him to topple over. Vlad wisely remained quiet as Robin scrambled to his feet.
"Ow… fucking bitch of a castle…."
Robin kept up an impressive litany of swears the entire way back to the hall. He was only making it worse for himself, Vlad knew. The castle had a long memory.
Vlad didn't know what he had ever done to deserve a friend like Robin.