Bonds of Vanity
Gentle, languishing winds carried the last bitter breaths of winter into the night sky. Snowflakes scattered in its path, curling about the full moon and stars in a fluffy stole. Black, deep indigo, pale, soft creams and light blues—such fragile colors were carried in its pull. All of these beautiful sights would be scattered in the following weeks, banished by the heat of the sun and winding trails of colorful, perfumed flowers.
Such a frail, tremulous beauty as winter's night had to be seen before it perished again.
A dark figure stood on a snowy ridge, watching powder scatter in the open fields and forests around him. He seemed as one with the season, clad in the same colors of the freezing night. Spirits of the air caught silvered, curled hair, tugging it towards the sky in playful teasing before releasing it again. He only moved to readjust his gloves. Even for blood as cold as his, the winter's frigid pulse was stronger, determined to settle in ancient ivory bones.
Howls sent new shivers through him, interrupting his peaceful contemplation. These weren't the cries of ordinary wolves. No, they were something darker, deeper—wargs, no doubt. Not of great threat to the poised man, but fearsome to the average human. He closed his eyes. Such mournful yelping rang in his head. These giant beasts were on the hunt, out for blood, seeking revenge.
Against what?
The answer ran under his sharp nose. Orange balls of light floated onto the lake, horseshoes clacking on ice. He grimaced. What fool would dare try crossing a lake this far into winter's end with such heavy beasts? Numerous red coaches ran behind two pairs of horses apiece, all keeping in single file. He tipped his head. Written on the side of the carriages in gold letters were advertisements for some self-inflated conman's circus.
Precisely—Maestro Phillippe's Traveling Menagerie and Curio Shoppe.
A swarm of shaggy creatures as large as horses descended onto the lake. They hounded the carriages, nipping and biting. The composed man sighed. Such calamity deserved investigation. He was hardly in the mood to mediate between nature and man, but there was to be no peace without calming both parties. He fussed with the chain of charms strapped around his right wrist. Once he was certain it was set correctly, he leapt from the ridge.
What seemed human peeled away. Flesh, bones, and blood merge into clear mist. Like a ghastly cloud, he floated onto the lake, overtaking the wargs as he sped to the mad caravan. Their howling was louder now, sharper. They sensed the dark presence amongst them. Their growling was frenzied, panicked.
The mist trembled, then dropped. Out of its remains fell a dark-furred wolf. Tiny as it was compared to the galloping wargs, they were pleased to see it. Cries rang in the shape-shifter's head. It took a moment for him to focus his thoughts on such howls, to let an animal's ears interpret what sharp barks were meant for him.
One knew his scent, even in his transformed state. "Lord Alucard! Whelp of the Master of Chaos!"
"Indeed! The hunt is in our favor!" Another went wild, cackling, saliva dripping through jagged teeth. "We devour human flesh tonight!"
The last cry pierced him like a silver lance. "Our whelp! They took him! Our son!"
Even if he loathed his own family—even if he hated what venom his father had given him instead of blood—his heart sank for the wailing mother. If these monsters still thought of him as a force on their side, even after he had fought so many of them to overthrow his father, then so be it. A child was a child, no matter the species. He would fetch it.
A flutter like large, black wings erupted from the ice. Alucard leapt onto the nearest carriage, his cloak whipping in the winter winds. He fought the speed of the caravan, the pull of gravity, pressing onward and inside. He was met with the stench of hay, metal, manure, fear. Wild eyes and flashing teeth addressed him. Iron cages lined the walls, crammed full of animals.
"What is this?" the startled man asked himself.
No ordinary animals had been captured. These were rare, beautiful creatures. Curled and whimpering at his knees was a white warg pup, eyes scarlet as the blood in the dhampir's body. Foxes screamed, voices shrill as a woman's scream, plush tails too numerous. A full-grown buck stared at him with almond eyes. Dangling from its sparkling antlers were crystals shaped as finely as silver raindrops. Birds with red-hot feathers. Wildcats with shifting, glowing eyes. A young unicorn, the bump on its head too small to be considered a grand horn. All creatures bearing marks of uncanny elegance, all prisoners of this mad caravan.
With a burst of mist, he passed through the walls in the front. He needed to slow the carriage down, give himself enough time to pick the locks and free what animals were captive in this car. Simple enough to do. Horses were easily frightened creatures—just a little worse than humans, in that regard. He rushed to the horses' noses, then shifted forms once more, a bat flying out of the mist that once was his body.
He didn't so much stop the horses as slam into their heads.
The bat reeled backwards, then crashed next to the carriage's driver. Alucard sank into the seat, body reconstituting from the shock of being hit. Alright. So they were courageous horses. So was the driver, for that matter of fact. He sat upright, then pulled back. Glaring at him was a visage in the approximation of a human face cast in metal. Rivets were ground in its head, gears and steam sputtering from its mouth. Something warm and wet undulated in the back of its mouth. Perhaps fuel. Perhaps something worse.
"A golem?" Alucard huffed.
That explained the horse's lack of fear as well. Why did they have to worry about something as tiny as a bat? They were made of the same substance as the driver, just as brain-dead and determined to follow orders. The mechanical horses drove forward with such strength that the dhampir thought their hooves would pierce the ice beneath them.
He snarled, then fought the golem coachman for the horses' reins. Gears snapped in their backs, red fluid popping out as Alucard pulled backwards. They came to an abrupt stop. The dhampir grumbled, then floated into the carriage once more, his body slow to turn to mist and back. Between the descent from the forest's ridge and constant body swapping, he was depleting his magic powers. Even his own father loathed switching forms this often.
Wargs snarled and snapped at the carriage. Their yowling was thunderous in his head. He rotated his relics, then found a small turquoise gem. This would do. He pressed it against the lock of the warg pup's cage, letting its magic flow. A light aura ebbed from the stone, then popped. The lock on the cage jolted open, shocked by the burst of magic.
The dhampir sent one heeled boot into the back doors of the carriage. He grabbed the pup by the scruff of its neck, then tossed it outside. Joyous howls turned to yelping as lights flared from the front of the caravan. The wargs retreated, yipping, tails between their legs. Alucard groaned, his lungs failing to keep up with his brain. What fresh hell was this?
"What the devil is this nonsense?" a voice boomed. "Get this cart moving! Now, you clanking claptraps!"
Alucard's ears perked. A human voice. He snarled, then rose. There was no time to free the rest of these animals. Not before that human caught him. As much as he'd like to teach that madman a lesson, the urge to spill blood was pacified by logic. The last thing he needed was a reputation as a thief or a manslayer. With a dejected groan, he twisted his form once more, blasting out of the carriage as little more than vapors.
Bulging eyes took sight of his ghastly shape. Thick lips trembled, a tiny nose turned up at him. Teeth chattered, though Alucard didn't know if the man's shivers were from fear or the cold. "What the blazes?"
The dhampir didn't see any reason for having to answer that question. He pushed forward, moving swiftly. His body was struggling to hold such a light form, aching to return to his uncompressed self. No matter the strength of his will, forces greater than the dhampir's power pulled against him. He sank to the icy surface of the lake, closer and closer, the chill seeping through him.
With an undignified crash, the man landed on the ice. He shuddered from the fall, then glanced behind him. Orange lights weren't far away. The entire caravan had turned to face him, ignoring the fleeing wargs. Hardly an ideal position, but he could work his way out of this. His magic power would be returning any moment now, and if he could just—
A titian burst of light popped next to his head as a thrown lantern shattered into pieces.
Alucard growled, then hid his eyes. Even as he was, half human and all, abrupt light in the middle of the night was still a harsh slap in the face. He scrambled to his feet, then ran. He didn't make five paces before teeth erupted from the surface of the frozen lake. Crystalline, shining, smooth as a mirror's surface. He jolted away from one, another brushing his back. Like so many brambles, they snared and tore the hem of his cloak.
A spire shot in front of his ribcage. It caught the buttons on his overcoat, tearing them away. He slid backwards. The sheen in the icy spike held his breath, a chill taking his heart. There, reflected in ice's surface, was his father's image. It bore no rage towards his defiant offspring. It had an uncomfortable smile, teeth digging into lips, drawing blood.
The reflection reached for Alucard. The dhampir kept back, drew his blade. No. No time for illusions or tricks. With one shattering blow, he scattered the mirage. Ice crystals clattered to his feet. Thousands of snarling laughs erupted around him, shards copying that same snarl over and over again. Struggling to hold his breath, the weary son ran once more.
He was nearly to the lake's edge. He set down his left foot, then went no further. A sickening crunch broke below him. Snapping jaws bit his ankles as the ice beneath him went. Cold water flooded his senses. His head breached the surface of the lake. He cursed himself. He knew this would happen! Why didn't he—
A gurgle escaped him. Shards in the lake's surface closed in on him. He tried his transformations one last time, bobbing helplessly as his body froze. Flying away? Swimming was going to be impossible enough, and any mere mortal could do that! He put his blade away, then kicked towards the shoreline.
One spire. Two. Three, then four. Pressing around him, forcing him beneath the lake's surface. He was no more than flotsam being pushed about by the spells surrounding him. He clutched his wrist, trying in vain to call for any spirit that would aid him. All that earned him was a mouthful of water. He looked up, finding his father's reflection mocking him in the sealed surface above his spinning head.
Drowning? Freezing? Not one drop of magic for a tiny fireball? How pitiful!
The water thickened around him. Alucard lashed out, trying one last time to escape whatever morbid fate awaited him. His sword clattered against the surface of the lake, pierced its shell, then was stuck fast. The black abyss became white, solid. His cloak and hair froze where they floated, the charms on his jewelry locked in place. The ice tightened against his chest, stopping short of constricting him. Only his breath bought him any freedom—and that was growing colder, weaker.
Wide eyes and thick legs walked over him. Even frozen in a block of ice, the dhampir could hear the man's mocking laughter. He knelt down, a staff clattering orb-end first onto the ice, his face pressing into the lake to see what his magic had caught. There, locked in the freezing waters, was evidence of what Alucard truly was. Pale features. Pointed nose and ears. Shining, seductive eyes. Sharp teeth.
"A vampire? Do my eyes deceive me?" the carriage leader murmured. He grinned, then placed a hand over Alucard's forehead. "If only my luck could always be so beautiful."
/***/
Look. Swirl. Sniff. Sip. Breathe. Taste again. Savor. Repeat. It seemed awfully complicated to drink wine in such a way, but he had assured her that it was the proper way to do so. The young lady smiled, then simply drank. Of course her friend had such peculiar ways to do everything. Probably the right way too, if pressed to argue about it. But…
Well. He wasn't here to chastise her now.
Perhaps it was a bit unbecoming of a young lady to travel so far from home on her own, to drink on her own in taverns packed full of ruffians. To so many people, she looked like a frail, fluffy doll, something to be cherished by little girls. She had power within her modest frame, resilience against dark forces that few could trump. Not many full-grown men could survive what she had—the assaults, the temptations, the sheer horror that came from facing the worst of hell's beasts.
She was strong. She knew this. It didn't make his loss any less painful.
The lady glanced at the tavern door, then back at her drink. It had been a month since she had heard of Alucard's whereabouts. She should have known it would eventually come to this. It was the way all men were—trying to protect her by not telling her a damn thing about what they were doing. Her brother-in-law was this way, her noble friend, the barkeep, the constables wandering the streets. All wanting her to be safe, be still. Be stupid, too, if they thought she would wait on the sidelines, waving a handkerchief as everyone around her went off to war with the forces of evil, only to never return.
She raised her drink again when a gloved hand slipped between her glass and her lips. "I'd never thought I'd see you taking to drinking, Maria."
Maria placed her glass down. "Maybe I'll learn not to cough when I do, one of these days." She grinned, then threw a dirty look towards her wild-eyed companion. "At least I have grace enough to know that you don't go sticking fingers in other people's drinks, Richter."
"You wound me!" Richter laughed, cheeky as the devils he fought.
If there was anyone Maria needed to confide in now, it was Richter Belmont. He was a strong man, broad-shouldered, determined. The kind of man that cut his hair with a serrated knife. Some fire was in his soul, always seeking the next challenge. A bloodlust as strong as his greatest foe's, perhaps. There were times darkness tempted him, but such foundries had made him tougher. She envied such resilience.
The duo sighed. Questions nettling at their lips were slow to come out. Words crashed together as they both asked, "So, what brings you here?" They chuckled, then shook heads. Their words together always seemed to run the same script.
"Ladies first," Richter urged.
Maria tipped her head. She knew Richter was going to hate this. "I was out hunting for Alucard. I have had no word from him in…quite some time."
Richter raised an eyebrow. "How long?"
"A month," Maria replied.
Sad tutting escaped Richter. "Don't tell me that he left a young lady alone on Saint Valentine's Day. Even knowing his father, I thought he had better breeding than that!"
Maria whacked him in his coat. He smirked off her sass. Shaking her head, she took back to her drink. "It's not like him, Richter. I've sent doves out in the day, owls out at night. There's no sign of him anywhere. Even if something terrible happened to him…even if he was slain…"
"Maria, don't…" Richter bit his tongue. He tapped on the bar, then slid two coins to the bartender. He watched the barkeep fill up a fresh stein, speaking as flatly as he could. "I'm sure you've torn the countryside apart looking for him."
The young lady nodded. She kept her words guarded as she spoke. "And I know you would have told me if he resurfaced amongst the Belmonts. At least, there's always a coff—bed for him in the Belnades Monastery. He wouldn't sleep in—well, he might sleep in strange places, but—" Her face flushed, then she lowered her eyes.
Richter shook his head. He lifted his stein, speaking into the foam. "But he always comes home, doesn't he?"
Words caught in Maria's throat. She bobbed her head, afraid to speak more. Their relationship was peculiar, at best. Not even the kindest word from the strongest Belmont could keep Alucard from returning to his eternal rest. But Maria…she had touched something else, reached some tender spot hidden within plates of cold iron.
There was to be tragedy in their future, no doubt. She would wither and die before him. For now, he was tucked in the folds of humanity, walking the journey of a slower path with her. If nothing else, she hoped to make his melancholy heart stalwart—that he would throw down his shame and take up his shield for those who would come. She couldn't guarantee she'd have a lineage to fight in her name like the Belmonts. If she could convince him to stay with humans—to honor his mother's words and her own wishes—that would be a grand enough legacy.
How foolish her dreams seemed now that he had vanished.
"Perhaps he ran away and joined the circus."
Both Maria and Richter jerked their heads up. The barkeep's statement was ludicrous. Richter was unable to hold his laughter. He snorted, then slammed his stein down. "Alucard? That ponce? Can you imagine—him, performing magic tricks for a roaring crowd? Walking a tight rope? The thought of him in clown makeup has me in tears alone!"
Maria had her hand drawn, half-way between swatting Richter and covering her face. She settled on hiding her rosy blush at such ridiculous thoughts. "N-no. That's not like him at all."
The bartender gave a massive shrug. "Fine. If you say so. All I know is that when anyone runs off around here, they head out for the circus."
"Seems like a small town for something like that to be here," Richter said.
"It's not a local establishment," the barkeep explained. He scratched his chin, beard bristling as he spoke. "There's a traveling act that comes here once in a blue moon. Been through France, the Netherlands, and the like. Gets quite a followin', but it has a nasty habit of robbing the locals of wayward sons. 'Course, that may be on account of its most famous attraction."
Maria raised an eyebrow. "And that would be?"
"Monsters. All sorts of monsters!" the barkeep exclaimed. "Don't know quite how they travel with so many. The ringleader claims he catches them out of all corners of the earth. If he's a conman, he's a damn good one."
Richter tipped his head. He took a swallow of his drink, then mused again. "Monsters and disappearing children. Hmm." He readjusted his seat, then leaned towards Maria. "Sounds my sort of mystery. What say you, Maria? Is your woman's intuition in line with my hunter's instincts?"
"It sounds to me like you wish to play around," Maria muttered.
"Fine then. Consider it a break," Richter conceded. "Come on, Maria. You need to take your mind off of him for a while. If there's anyone in the world who loves tiny, fluffy creatures more than you, then I have not met them!"
Sighing, Maria lowered her drink. Maybe Richter was right. What was one day in leisure compared to the thirty she had spent hunting for Alucard? He was so entrenched in her mind, as snug to her spirit as her gloves to her hands. She had been so consumed with finding him that she was wracked with worry, drinking just to remember something about him. Or, perhaps to numb the hole he had left in her heart.
She had lived without him before. She could go on for a little while longer.
"Alright. Let's go see this circus," Maria agreed. "But then, I expect you to help me find him."
Richter grinned, then downed his beer. "Like I could refuse helping either of you."
/***/
Author's Note
Thanks for reading!
Here's the scoop—I've got this story all written out. Barring some disastrous accident, you should be seeing updates every Sunday and Thursday until the story is finished (usually in the evenings.) Good policy, I think. Saves the reader from an unfinished story. Feel free to leave reviews or share with your pals, but you will get a complete story, no matter what. Again, assuming I don't have to get in a fight with Death or something. We know what a dirty fighter he is.
I'll try my best to keep in character/in canon, but good lord. Between localization quirks, Rondo of Blood vs. Dracula X, an unclear fate as to what happened to Annette/her relationship to Maria, and whatever happened in that radio drama, it's a bit daunting. I've taken a few liberties here and there as well. Things like the size of Alucard's bat transformation, the nature of his relics, etc. (Seriously—he doesn't lug them all around, does he? The thought of him using them as some kind of tacky bracelet decorations makes me laugh.) Do call me out on my bullshit, if you feel like you need to raise a flag.
Weird. This is the one time I can use the excuse "A wizard did it" and it might be valid!
