DELUSIONAL

by Neris Verboten

What if Grayson were a little bit more delusional than his screen version? What if his first encounter with Mina didn't quite go as smoothly as previously seen? Angst, sex and morally reproachable behavior will abound. Only for mature readers. Dracula purists and humorless people need abstain. I hope the rest of you enjoys.

Chapter I

In truth, it could be said that Josef had by far overstayed his welcome, or so Renfield fervently considered while climbing the stairs to his master's bedroom, with all the composure his bulk was affording him, in yet another of the annoying guest's all too frequent emergencies.

After being rudely awaken by ungodly screams and thumps in the middle of the night, he had hastily dressed and ordered the service staff to remain in their chambers. He then had proceeded to survey the damage: the spectacle he had faced in the hall of the mansion didn't bode well for a restful morning. The next hours were bound to be taxing, to say the least. He sighed heavily at the prospect and knocked on the door; he swiftly entered, sure to find his employer wide awake and brooding as usual at the pale moon, enveloped in one of his favorite dark red robes and lazily accommodated in a cozy armchair.

Alexander was drawn from his reverie, only to be confronted by the barely composed face of his friend, who was by now lightly perspiring, with the conjoint effort of climbing the stairs in a hurry and of willing his features to maintain the usual aplomb he prided himself to have a masterful grasp of.

"What's the matter, Reinfeld?" the afflicted man by the window almost suspired, with an evasive arching of his eyebrows and a look of quiet despair. He didn't like to be distracted at that special hour of the night, and had not fear in showing his mild annoyance at the disruption of his beloved routine.

"Sir, sorry to interrupt you, but there is a matter of a certain urgency you must attend to, at once." Renfield's whole countenance radiated resolution, mixed sagely with a pinch of contrition. "You must come downstairs now." The tone of the last sentence admitted no refusal, and so Alexander brusquely stood up, with an audible grunt and few hissed words muttered at Renfield's general direction.

With a light step, he was at the end of the staircase and faced at once with the spectacle of his old brother-in-arms, Josef Cervenka, hovering over a bundle of red stained rags, which might or might not abscond a body underneath. He got closer to see if the unmoving form on the floor was still breathing, and Josef's face illuminated with a broad – and slightly demented – smile, at the sight of his adored master. He stood straight and, still grinning, showed the precious bundle to Alexander, with a theatrical and majestic wave of both his hands.

"Master, master, look what I brought you!" he said triumphantly. His grin broadened, if that were even possible, and he stood fixated in that almost comical position – if not for the very tragic actual circumstances – waiting patiently for the praise he was expecting to receive for his selfless actions.

Grayson stood unmoving right in front of his fellow vampire, a glacial look stamped on his face. He surveyed alternatively the man and the charge with an ominous twist of disgust in the corner of his mouth. Tightening his fists and showing them in his pockets, he finally spoke. "Bloody hell, Cervenka! I told you a million times not to bring your meals in here!"

"But master, this is a gift for you…" The smile idiotically printed on Josef's face was slowly fading, replaced by a mild expression of bewilderment now. "I did it for you. Look, she's young and pretty, and I haven't touched her. See, see, this blood is not hers: I have been very careful with her," he clarified pointing at the stained sheets, almost offended now at the implication that his master had so badly misunderstood his noble intentions.

Grayson hissed furiously and sprang at Josef's unprotected and cowering body. "This is the last time you do something like this. Do you understand me?" he bellowed in his ear, seizing him brutally by the collar. "You bloody, mindless fool!" After a few moments, when he thought the lesson had had time to be properly digested, he let him go and pushed him viciously against the opposite wall.

Alexander then proceeded to survey the surroundings with a pondering expression on his face. He walked in circles a few times around the nearby table, shooting furtive glances at the body on the floor, while his spectators waited patiently for any sort of more concrete signals that sensibleness had returned to their master. Walking swiftly, he got closer again to the woman and extended a hand to remove the rags Josef had used to transport her unseen to the mansion, a resolute expression now on his face. Her soft dark hair was covering the barely detectable – but presumably delicate - features, and her clothes appeared to be of a fine making, although torn and soiled by the night's misadventures.

She was breathing lightly, but fortunately was still unconscious. 'Maybe there is a way to salvage the current situation', Alexander thought. If they could feed fast off her, they could always dispose of the body afterwards in the furnaces downstairs, if only Josef hadn't been detected by anybody in the commission of such suspicious endeavors in close and too dangerous proximity of the house.

Once an acceptable course of action had been formulated in his brain, Alexander felt more confident, and with that, hunger returned. Still hovering on the unmoving figure, he turned firmly the body and brushed the hair from her face. What he saw made him gasp audibly, with a wild-eyed and astonished expression on his face.

Renfield and Josef looked at their master in heightened bafflement, but didn't dare yet to utter a word. Grayson cradled the unconscious form in his arms, and exposed her face at the flame of the dying fire.

It was unmistakable.

With a bewildered look in his eyes, he passed a trembling hand through his hair and whispered: "Ilona…" He convulsively started shaking the unmoving body, and lastly dragged her closer to the fire, hugging her in a possessive embrace. He started sobbing into her hair.

Josef was wildly puzzled by the last actions, and didn't dare move from his spot at the opposite end of the hall, where he had found refuge after Grayson's unanticipated and wrathful outburst. Renfield, on the contrary, bravely decided something ought to be done on behalf of his half-crazed master, and silently approached the two figures pathetically lying on the floor, still intertwined.

"Sir, do you need assistance?" he proffered with a deferential but firm voice, in hopes that some form of intelligible direction was going soon to be provided by his employer. However, he was sadly disappointed by Grayson's next words.

With a voice broken with overwhelming emotion, Alexander kept repeating, as if in a trance, "Ilona has been returned to me. Ilona is here. My beloved wife has walked through the centuries and has found me. We have been reunited at last. Ilona is again with me!" Still embracing the unconscious woman, he lifted his head just enough for Renfield to see two or three solitary tears moistening a face that bared an expression which couldn't be considered anything short of delusional, in the lawyer's humble opinion. After twelve years of working for the wretched vampire, he had acquired a heightened capacity of recognizing the well-known, bright glimpse of madness that was now again dancing in Grayson's eyes; he discreetly took a few steps back, for good measure.

"That is simply not possible, sir," he dared to point out, once he had gotten himself again at a safe distance from the perplexing scene.

"What do you know? What in the name of hell do you know, eh?" the prostrate form roared in sudden fury, directed chiefly at the lawyer and at anybody else who might have dared to contradict him at this most solemn of junctures. As a way of answer, the semi-deserted hall resonated with a pointed silence. "Renfield, bring me some brandy and a wet cloth, at once. We must revive her and make her comfortable," he added with a calmer voice and a tender glance directed at the woman. The abrupt change in tone had the effect to make the lawyer move hastily towards the liquors cabinet.

Glass and cloth in hand, he returned and witnessed the delicate ministrations with which Alexander started trying to restore the woman's wellbeing. "Please, wake up, my love," he kept murmuring while gently passing the humid cloth over her forehead. At last, the woman stirred and slowly opened her eyes. She brought a hand to the back of her head and moaned in pain. She blinked once or twice and then pushed with her hands against the solid presence who was still tightly holding her.

"Who are you? Where am I? Let me go. Please let me go now!" she stressed the last words with urgency, while trying to regain an upright position.

"Don't fret, my love. I'm here for you now," Grayson dotingly assured, while standing up and extending a hand to help the woman. However, she recoiled from the lingering figure and, with a frightened look, refused to accept the offered help.

"Who are you? Answer me!" she demanded this time with a more imperious voice, while leaning towards a near chair behind her, to gather enough support and be able to stand up. Taking a few steps backward and grasping the mantelpiece for assurance, she looked at the surroundings for the first time: the majestic and richly decorated hall was barely illuminated by the dying fire, and the three figures standing at different distances from the light, were all immobile, almost as if frozen in a theatrical and nightmarish performance, whose outcome she was not yet privy to.

"Here, my dear, have some brandy. It will help you recuperate your forces," Alexander helpfully suggested, extending the glass he had taken from Renfield's hands. He kept staring at her with a look both affectionate and possessive, which only helped instilling even more fear in his counterpart. A predatory smile began curling the corners of his mouth: he got closer and sensually caressed the woman's bare neck, as if hypnotized by that fleshy expanse, pulsating and beckoning him to have again in his arms such tempting and supple figure.

The woman recoiled and fiercely shoved the man away. "I don't want your brandy! I want to go home!" she screamed, while toppling the glass to the floor with a swat of her hand.

Alexander's reaction was swift and only too predictable. After tumbling back a few steps in surprise, he threw himself at her with a growl, and grasped her neck tightly with both hands. He bared his fangs, his face contorted by sudden ferocity, and the woman screamed at the sight and fainted again in the vampire's arms. Alexander's face dripped consternation.

"Well, that made for an eventful beginning of this day", Renfield noted in a knowing voice. "What do you propose we do with her, now?"

"I cannot let her go, my friend." Grayson's voice sounded suddenly remorseful. "I cannot let her go now that I've found her."

"Maybe the sagest course of action would be to dispose of her body as fast as possible: you cannot afford to be exposed yet, and you know it. And abduction is never a good way to start the week."

"That's out of the question!" Rage filled again Alexander's words. He started shaking his head like a lunatic, while still cradling the unconscious form. "We'll have her pass the night in one of the chambers, and then she must understand she cannot leave me again. I will make her understand," he said softly, caressing the raven hair like a boy with a new kitten.

Renfield sighed almost inaudibly and followed his employer upstairs, a distinct foreboding sensation taking permanent residence inside his chest. "Maybe she will not remember what she just saw", he stated cautiously. "And in a few hours, Dr. Van Helsing can take a look at her. If she was assaulted, we just provided shelter for her, and she is bound to be confused and misremembering… I can say I found her unconscious and brought her here to the mansion. The good doctor could help us with some of his drugs, which could easily erase the more vexing memories", he dragged on under his breath, anxious to find any sort of plausible solution to the conundrum in front of him.

But Alexander had ceased to listen to his friend. The only thing the vampire was sure of, was that he didn't want her to forget him, ever, even if it meant she was going to loathe him for the actions he was now set to commit.

That was a price he was prepared to pay: Ilona was going to be part of his life again, one way or the other. She needed to remember him. He was not going to lose her this time.