Hello, my dears. New tale for you to make up for my lack of posting. Hope you enjoy. Next chapter to come next week.
"Well – I suppose this is goodnight then…"
"Aye, it is." Doru was hesitant, shifting from foot to foot as though unsure he had leave to go, but her comment hushed his mouth. With one last look at her; it could have been lust – her frame was bare still - or maybe even longing – he turned on his heel and headed back in the direction of the path. She watched him leave with a slight smile playing about her lips; up until this evening he had been brazen and cocksure; especially in front of the other village lads. When it had come down to it though his brashness had drained from him and he had been a doubtful boy – meek and malleable in her arms. All in all nothing she had not expected.
Still, at least tonight had been fine. Fine enough for her tryst to have taken place here rather than the stables where at any moment she might be discovered. Yet on cold nights where else was she to go? Doru might have been hesitant about leaving the safety of the village, but a casual reminder of what would have happened if they were caught had changed his mind. She began to hum as she pulled on her stockings. After all, who would want to be entrapped into marriage with a girl like her? It might not have been much, but at least she had finally cornered Doru, and she had been chasing him for over a month. Things really weren't so bad.
Stockings and petticoats she pulled on quickly; the cold set into her limbs quickly now they had finally stilled and she rubbed her hands together irritably. She was just fastening the tapes of her skirt around her waist (plain black serge of course, like any other woman in Vaseria) when she checked; realising what had been bothering her. She had not been able to put her finger on it for the last half hour – too concerned with Doru to think too deeply on it – but her fingers were prickling. Every Transylvanian knew what that meant.
Her heart constricted. Perhaps just some curious fox or even a villager? Her mind raced through the innocent explanations until another reality presented itself. On a night as fine as this one why were there no sounds? No animals scurrying in the undergrowth, no occasional own hooting to its mate. Her heart began to pound. Apart from herself and Doru the forest had been silent as a tomb.
"Good evening."
She spun around, her heart leapt into her mouth and for a moment it stopped beating when she saw who had spoken. She had prayed for a werewolf or even a Bride; something she had a better chance against, and it took all her will to quell the instinct to run when she realised who it was. The King of all those atrocities. Dracula himself.
He stood on the opposite side of the clearing; a cloaked figure barely ten feet from her; quite as regal and imposing as she had been told. From the lack of sounds he had likely been just out of sight since they had arrived here. Even she coloured at the thought of what he must have seen.
His lips curled into a taunting smirk and she mentally cringed at the figure she must have cut; clad only in her skirts with her hair dishevelled and her plump cheeks flushed – God, with her red curls she must look as though someone had set her face afire – her bosom completely exposed. His fangs were just discernable in the moonlight, glimmering at the corners of his mouth. Glimmering with sharpness. What was she thinking, blushing at her nakedness when he was before her, a vampire who appeared in Vaseria for one thing and one thing alone.
Holy Virgin, have mercy on her soul! She braced herself for his lunge that would likely come at any moment. Yet the Count remained as still under her gaze as the plaster statues in the church. She took a long, deep breath, and finally he bowed to her, as stately as though she had been any great society lady.
In her mind's eye she saw herself screaming, catching up her blouse and holding it protectively across her chest; as though that move would have done her any good. It was what any other woman from Vaseria would have done – yet she knew how useless it would be. Running, too, would not help; he could move faster than a Transylvanian horse and would catch up with her in seconds. She took a deep breath, and then dipped him a low curtsey, her back straight and her eyes respectfully lowered as she always did with her father's guests.
Soft slaps punctuated the silence, and her heart quickened, but when she looked up she realised it was just the sound of his leather gloves colliding as he applauded her.
"Very good my dear girl, very good."
She nodded; unsure what other response she could give. This was unreal; by all accounts she ought to be dead by now – everyone knew the Count took his fill in moments and was gone before any knew he had even been. She had never heard of him pausing to speak to anyone, bar the Valerious, before now. God, but this was wrong, she ought to be terrified and but instead all she felt was curiosity as to why Dracula himself had deigned to speak to her. She wished she dared ask.
"So, you have finally noticed me. One would have thought that a girl as rare as you seem to be would have known better than to be out here at this time. Tell me, what were you doing so far from home?" She recalled the sack finally, lying on the ground just behind her, and its tie was a long one. He'd be too quick for her if she tried to grab it, but, then again, perhaps not if she was clever about this.
"Well?" Too late she realised he'd been waiting for a reply. Well, he'd have noticed her movement but perhaps her answer might distract him enough for her to grab the sack with her foot. She shrugged.
"I am almost sure that you have been here since we arrived," he was strolling across the clearing now, closing the space between them, and her right foot which she had reached behind her (hopefully masked by her skirt) was indeed just brushing the loop of her sack, "you recognised what we did I am sure. Is Doru safe or did you catch him as he left?" Bold words for her but something seemed to have stolen proper decorum from her tongue. The absurdity of her situation, most likely.
Moonlight caught the hoops in his ears as he reached her. She had never seen such adornments on a man before, but they suited him somehow – gave him a roguish flavour. Thank God in heaven though, she had found the sack and it was open; her toes were dexterous without her shoes. The Count's eyes were bright – had they been so bright before? She could not remember – and assessed her figure openly. She stilled under his gaze and in a moment they returned to meet hers.
"Your – ah – sweetheart – remains unharmed and has by now reached his home. You ought to have gone with him." Relief jolted through her at that which surprised her – she hadn't known she cared so much.
"Aye – I know. Little point in reminding me that now though." There was that boldness again; she could not understand what possessed her to do it, but his words held a mocking note and his smirks were infuriating, and she'd never let anyone speak to her like that. The sack's contents was under her skirt, one stretch backwards and she could have it in her hand. Would it be enough though? The thought was forgotten as the Count reached out a gloved hand and touched her bare shoulder. The leather was smooth and cool. A little shiver went through her.
"Would you have preferred then, for him to have had your fate instead?" one finger traced her collarbone, "after all, it was you who enticed him here in the first place." His hands were leaving cold trails on her flesh. In God's name, what was she waiting for?
"I -," Her legs were growing weak; she stood there as helpless as a child. He had reached her neck, though when she spoke he paused and raised one eyebrow, his fingers hovering over her pulse. That finally spurred her, she wrenched back, grabbed the stake from under her skirt and in a moment had it hurtling towards his heart. She had had none of the training of the Valerious, but working for her father had strengthened her arm enough to take the stake to its mark, and she wondered if Boris himself could have done better. The Count staggered; his eyes wide and his strangled cry breaking the silence and she thought then that she was safe. But he stared down at the protrusion from his chest, back at her, and then laughed as though it were the funniest thing in the world.
"Ah, girl," he said after a moment, wiping a tear from his eye, "have the proud Valerious not yet told Vaseria that stakes are useless against me?"
Doru would not share her fate, he'd said. It was certainly sealed now. She considered the concept for the first time and blanched; a sharp sickness tightening in her belly. God knew she might never have envisioned much of a future for herself, but it suddenly struck her that even that was worth clinging to with all her might.
The Count must have known her terror – after all, her heart was racing – yet her first thoughts were to calm it somehow. If she was to die then she might as well do so in as dignified a manner as possible; he thought her enough of a fool already. To humiliate herself still further would never do.
She swallowed, hard.
"No, never. There were always stories of course – but none have got close enough in decades to test the theory. I wondered if it was but idle tavern talk." Her voice had thankfully steadied by the end of the sentence. The vampire smirked and shook his head. Heaven knew how he managed to retain dignity with a foot of stake poking from his chest – but he did it.
"Then you are a fool. The rest of Europe may live in an age of enlightenment and insight, but you ought to have known better than to have thought Transylvania did the same. Will the young never learn I wonder?" His voice grew softer, as though he were musing aloud, though she did not understand what he might have meant. He removed one glove delicately; revealing a hand as pale as bone, and tugged the stake from his breast. She gasped as he tossed it carelessly behind him. The fine silk of his shirt flared in the moonlight – and not one inch of it was torn. He stood
barely three feet from her.
She suddenly realised that he was not so tall; barely a head higher than her, but his shoulders were broad and his frame capable. His clothes were finer than anything she had seen in Vaseria, even on the Valerious, black breeches with knee-boots over them, the shirt and brocade waistcoat, all covered over by a fitted black coat whose embroidery glittered and a long dark cloak. She imagined he wore that out of habit – it was not as though he needed to keep out the cold.
Her eyes flicked back to his and she realised she'd been staring, but frowned as she saw he had been assessing her just as closely. An involuntary flush spread across her cheeks, and he stilled and smirked.
"Well then my little fool, now that little charade is over and before we get down to business, what might your name, and your age be?"
"Adelina. Adelina Baboescu." Her stomach churned again at his hint of what was to come, her appearance forgotten. "And I am eighteen."
"Very pretty my dear, and what is it that you do?" His stance had changed now, she saw, since he had assessed her, his movements easier, less predatory. What could he be about? She frowned.
"My father keeps an inn - La barieră – in the village. I work in the kitchen and the bar."
He raised one eyebrow. 'At the Barrier' – very apt for its location. Your father is an astute man, but tell me, does Vaseria entice enough guests for the running of an inn?"
She shrugged. "We have enough; supplies we cannot provide for ourselves are brought to us, and those who bring them must stop somewhere." And how often had she started after their wagons, dreaming that she might go with them. As though her father would ever have allowed that. Besides, we are somewhere for the villagers themselves to meet."
"I see. And yet through all of those guests and servants you are still unmarried?" She wore no ring on her finger. "Now, I wonder why that could be?" Temper flared in her belly despite herself, a sharp retort ready on her tongue. "Tell me then; do your elders know why no lad has come to the door asking your father to court you?"
She shrugged. "Not yet. But it probably won't be long before whispers among the young men catch their attention. I used to be more discreet, but it doesn't seem to matter now. I have begun to gain a reputation." He chuckled softly, deftly removing his other glove so both hands lay pale in the moonlight.
"You are far too young to act as cynically and as stoically as you do Adelina."
He raised an eyebrow when she paused, her face uncertain. He expected an answer. Damn.
"Cynically, stoically. What – what do they mean?"
Her voice cracked for the first time at the end of the sentence, more from humiliation than anything else. What must he think of the figure she cut – a village girl with so little schooling she could not even understand his conversation. The vampire simply waved his hand impatiently and she breathed again.
"A cynic is one who, like you, seems to know the price of everything but the value of nothing. A stoic is one who acts dispassionately. Terms, I think, which suit you to the ground, my girl." She stared incredulously, wondering how in heaven he could know that? He had met her this very hour!
The vampire gave her little time to think on it – a moment later closing the space between them till he stood right over her. All the hairs rose on the back of her neck, and this time she could not stop herself. She took a step back; he followed. Another and another, until her back was set against a tree trunk and he was just before her and she shuddered at his proximity. The Count laughed – a crueller sound than his earlier chuckle that echoed around the clearing and exposed his fangs fully. They seemed longer than before, and looked so sharp, and God help her she whimpered – she hadn't been able to stop herself. The Count smirked and closed his mouth, hiding the fangs from view.
"Well, for a stoic you fear me just fine."
He was toying with her, as though she were some kind of game to him. She could not bear his ridicule. This time when his hands reached for her she took a deep breath and contained her shivers, even when they wandered lower to her bosom. If that was what he wanted she at least knew she could endure it – hadn't she enough times before? Clumsy caresses, a few uncertain fumblings and it was generally very quickly over. She bit her lip, trying to ignore the smooth feel of the leather against her skin. She would manage this.
A glance back at the Count through threatened her composure; he had tilted his head to one side; a mildly amused expression on his face.
"Why, my dear girl, do you not care then, that in every man you have taken you have found nothing more than pain, boredom, and but a whiff of pleasure?"
She took a deep, ragged breath; another of the tavern tales she had dismissed was that the vampires could read minds.
"Oh no," the Count grinned, withdrawing his hands and taking a step back, "I cannot read minds, but when you have been alive as long as I have you learn to read people. Rare as you might think you are Adelina, I have met a hundred like yourself who believe because they have awoken to certain realities of life that they have some superior knowledge."
Hurt coursed through her at his words, childish of course; but she was powerless to stop it. He thought her a fool, a naïve little fool barely worth concerning himself with. Lord, what would the travelling lads, whom she worked hard with to make think she was something above them, think of her now? The Count chuckled again, surely fully aware of the effect his words had had, and sat down on a tree-stump. She stared at him in confusion.
"So," he raised an eyebrow, "what is your story? What drew you from oblivious existence, living out your days in insipid toil? A sweetheart perhaps? It is generally a sweetheart." He gestured for her to sit beside him. She took a deep breath and did as he requested; he had seen terror, panic and embarrassment, and she would be damned before she would let him know how frightened she was to sit so close.
"Well?" he asked when she did not speak.
"Well – the – the usual tale I suppose." She almost spat the words and he smirked, but she went on, assuming obliviousness.
"I had always had contact with the lads who brought supplies to the inn; I had to organise what they brought for the kitchen. They never paid me much attention until two summers ago. When they started on me I guessed their game, but there was one who seemed different. We had been close friends as children, and when he grew flattering and cajoling I never thought him capable of what the other lads would surely do. He swore if I did he would go to my father the very next day and ask to marry me, and then surely he would take me with him and I would go to a better life somewhere else. But when we were done he never spoke to me again."
When she glanced up at the Count she found him smirking again. He had leaned back lazily and propped one leg against the other knee. The very picture of languor and she still sat as stiffly as a board.
"Ah, yes, the usual tale. Many an innocent young girl has been caught out that way. But come, you have not told me all yet. How did you come from a ruined girl to such a callous woman?"
She stared at him, wondering how he, who had known her innermost secrets as if by instinct, could not understand.
"I – don't you see? All my life I did as I was told, laboured for my father and went to Mass every Sunday and Saint's day. And through all of it I remembered my place, strove to honour my parents and never bring shame on them. I believed if I fell God would punish me, but afterwards there was nothing! My – courses – came as always and he must not have told any what had happened. And after weeks of fright when my father so much as spoke to me – I realised I was free. And how pointless my guilt had been, if there was to be no punishment and none were to know. Perhaps God does not even care – if there is a God at all!" There, she had said it, and looked back to him expectantly; sure he would finally see. But he was grinning.
"Ah, girl, don't be so sure of that. There are some sins even He will not ignore." He was silent as she stared at him, musing again. They said he was the devil's son – that was something else she had dismissed as idle talk – now though, she was beginning to wonder. Could he know for sure? But the vampire was gesturing for her to go on.
"I – well – I had learned something of men and that if they could use cheap tricks like that to get what they wanted from you then perhaps I could do the same to them. That might not be such fun, but finding someone and moulding them until they are as clay in your hands – now that is something!" He was still watching her, lounging as ever, that infuriating smirk still across his lips. If he wanted the truth he would have it – she would show him. "Well why not then, after all?" she hissed, her temper flaring higher. "I know I'll be caught soon – a year or two more at most and then I will be forced to marry someone who'll have to stay here, and then children and more children and toil will ruin me for anything more. Why not live a little now, the one chance I have to –," she stopped when the vampire turned from her, threw back his head and laughed.
She gritted her teeth and stared at him while he chuckled, wishing she dared show her contempt.
"What amuses you?" she muttered.
"Oh, Adelina." he said, turning back to her, still chuckling. She could feel herself growing redder. "But you have no idea how commonplace you sound. You are as all the young; a few lessons learned and you become so self-assured in your views that you cannot imagine anything will come along to challenge you. As arrogant as any of the lads you have despised, though perhaps a little less crude in your assurances. A few short years ,I think, would have cured you of that."
She didn't believe a word of his speech, and this must have shown in her face, for he was laughing the moment the thought had entered her head.
"Insulted, my poor, puffed up little popinjay? Don't be, you are not the first to think that way, nor will you be the last." He stood from the stump and stretched lazily, then held out a hand to her.
"Well, then, now that I have pierced that armour of yours would you care to learn something of life before you leave it?"
R&R, my loves?