"Vlad! For garlic's sake, what took you so long?" The Count nodded curtly at Robin as they entered—the highest form of praise Robin had thus far managed to elicit from the older vampire—before looking his son over with a doting expression. "Are you ready, Vlad? The time is nearly upon us. Aren't you just brimming with excitement? I know I am." Over his shoulder, Ingrid made a barfing gesture, and Will chuckled appreciatively.
For once in his life, Vlad didn't feel like arguing with his father. He settled on mild sarcasm.
"Could be worse," he muttered as he sank into the seat next to Robin. "Haven't felt like terrorizing any villagers, yet."
The Count patted him on the head. "Not to worry. That'll come with time."
"Ha, ha. Very funny."
The Count tutted. "It's really not as bad as you're making it out to be. Just look at what being evil did for my own devilish good looks." He gestured to himself, eyeing Vlad with a wicked smile and steadfastly ignoring Ingrid's sudden coughing fit. But behind the veneer of humour, Vlad thought he spotted a hint of something else in his father's eyes. Something old, and sad.
For one strange moment, Vlad found himself wondering about how the Count had felt, centuries ago, about his own transformation. He'd never talked about it before. Had he been nervous? Frightened, even?
His father seemed to have made up his mind about something, however, and leaned in, interrupting Vlad's train of thought. "I know you haven't quite been as thrilled about this day, as I have." The Count winced, as if the words physically pained him. Vlad raised an eyebrow.
Understatement of the century.
Apparently, his father wasn't as oblivious as he pretended to be, because a moment later, he sighed, adding: "Whatever happens in there today, Vlad, it's going to turn out… all right. You'll still be—" he hesitated. "You, at the end of it."
It was a lie, and they both knew it. Still, despite himself, Vlad was touched by his father's efforts. At least he was trying. "Thanks, Dad. That... means a lot, coming from you."
"Oh, barf," Ingrid drawled. "What does a girl have to do to get some proper entertainment around here?"
As if on cue, the castle bell began to toll. Robin and the Count both sprang to their feet.
Vlad's heart clenched. He wasn't ready.
But then, he supposed he never would be.
He found himself being escorted from the room by his father, with Robin, Ingrid and Will trailing closely behind.
As they turned the corner, Vlad caught his sister staring at him.
Ingrid's mouth was curled into a grimace. Still, Vlad couldn't help but notice she was clutching Will's hand tighter than strictly necessary.
Despite his better judgment, he felt some of his anger at her so-called "gift" from that morning dissipating.
He remembered how badly Ingrid's own transformation had gone three years ago; how Ingrid's evil reflection had chased them around the school, and nearly killed Will back when he was still human.
If even Ingrid is worried, Vlad thought, what chance do I have?
"Does it hurt?" Vlad asked her quietly, drifting to one side as they descended the staircase to the basement.
To his surprise, she answered. Ingrid seemed to be choosing her words very carefully. "More than anything you could imagine."
"Do you really think I'm going to be evil?"
Ingrid looked thoughtful. "It definitely will be. But you?" She smirked. "You don't have it in you." After a moment, her smile slipped. "Well—probably not, anyway."
Vlad swallowed. It wasn't the most reassuring response he could have gotten, although he supposed he should be grateful for her honesty.
He started in on his breathing exercises once more, as they descended the final staircase to the mirror room, and arrived at a set of heavy wooden doors guarded by two large suits of armour.
Beyond those doors lay everything Vlad had always reviled in himself. Everything he had sworn he would never become. He took an even deeper breath—let it out again, took another—but the gnawing ache in his chest refused to subside.
"Go on, my son," the Count murmured in his ear, gripping his arms from behind. "Your destiny awaits."
Vlad stiffened. He had been wrong. He couldn't do this.
A different, warmer hand landed on his forearm. Robin's gaze locked with his.
"You're stronger than some bully reflection, Vlad." The teen cowered a bit under the force of the Count's glare, but pressed on. "You've got to fight it with everything you have, and you have to win."
Ingrid rolled her eyes. "There's nothing to win, blood bag; and nothing to lose." She eyed her brother. "Your evil self has always been a part of you. The mirror doesn't do anything but reveal what is already inside."
The Count nodded. "I loathe to admit it, but... your dreadful sister is correct. For once."
Ingrid and the Count glared at each other.
"Enough," Vlad snapped. "I can't concentrate with the lot of you bickering." When the others fell quiet, he added, "And you're wrong, Ingrid." He stared at the door. "I have everything to lose."
The Count stepped back. "Guards, open the doors!"
Vlad's eyes squeezed shut as the knights raised their swords and the doors creaked open. "Just… give me a second."
Robin leaned into his side. "Take as long as you need." His palm grazed the back of Vlad's hand as he spoke, shocking him and causing the hairs on his neck to stand on end.
Vlad took one last deep breath, savoring the rush of oxygen—the feel of his heart, the way his pulse pounded in his ears and hands.
As the door sealed shut behind him, he rubbed at the spot on his hand where Robin had touched him, and found himself wondering, of all things, whether vampires or humans were better conductors of electricity.
That's it. I'm officially a nutter.
"You've got this, Vlad!" Robin's voice was muffled by the thick wooden door. Vlad turned, reluctantly, spotting the huge mirror at the far left wall.
And officially doomed.
Up close, the mirror looked nothing like glass.
It was more like the surface of a very still lake. As Vlad stared, the metal seemed to swim, the torchlight swirling in beautiful eddies across the mirror's face.
He felt sure that if he touched it, his hand would become submerged in its silvery depths.
A sudden movement in the mirror caught his eye. Ah, yes: the reason he was here.
At first, it was just his own face, staring back at him. Then, something in his appearance shifted, and his face looked older—thinner, perhaps? Definitely paler. The man in the mirror was wearing different clothes, for some reason; and he was smirking.
Vlad felt his shackles rise; he was pretty sure he'd never made an expression quite like that in his entire life.
Then, the man—it—spoke.
"Look at you. You're trembling." Its smirk grew wider. "How… adorable."
Vlad shivered. He didn't care what Robin thought. His face, with those fangs, made for a horrible combination.
"I don't know—I think they make us look rather dashing." Vlad's eyes widened. It could read his mind?
"Unfortunately, yes," the thing replied; it looked genuinely disturbed by the thought. "I've been in your head this whole time, you know. I had to suffer through every guilt trip, every sulk, every nauseating little daydream."
Vlad refused to be intimidated. "If you're really me, then you know exactly what I think of you. And you also know that I'm not going to let you hurt my friends."
His reflection laughed. "But it would be so much fun!"
Vlad glared, and the thing shrugged. "Must you always be such a kill-joy?" It gave him a sidelong look. "Have you considered killing people, instead?"
"I'm not going to be evil," Vlad said, struggling to remain calm, "and I'm not going to kill anyone. Nothing you do or say is ever going to change that."
"Boring, boring, boring!" The reflection's eyes glowed an alarming shade of yellow. "I'm growing tired of your endless whining, breather-lover." It cracked its knuckles. "Now stand back—this is going to hurt a lot."
Vlad resisted the urge to retreat; he refused to give it the satisfaction.
The mirror began to ripple, his reflection pushing with both hands against the mirror's surface, which bucked and stretched under the pressure.
Before Vlad knew it, his evil half was standing before him.
"I can't wait to show you the future that's in store for us. We're going to be such a great team." The reflection chuckled; its expression was almost fond. "I've been waiting for this day for too long."
Vlad couldn't imagine anything more terrifying than whatever it was that was causing his reflection to smile like that. He stood a bit taller, despite the quivering in his knees, and offered the monster both hands. "I won't fight you," he said, his breath shaking. "I don't have to, because I'm going to win."
His reflection reached for him obligingly, then stopped halfway. The whites of its eyes faded, until they were completely black.
"You'll find I'm incredibly patient, love." Vlad shuddered at the term of endearment, and the thing grinned appreciatively at Vlad's obvious discomfort. "We are going to be together forever, remember?" It said, voice soft. "It doesn't matter if you win today, or the next day, or the next. I will always find you. I will be with you for every moment. You can't run from who you are."
Vlad looked down, suddenly unable to meet his reflection's dark and empty eyes. Deep down, he knew his reflection was right. Forever was a long, long time.
The monster continued, "And what you are—what you will always be—is a vampire." It hissed, inching its hands closer to Vlad's own. Vlad's were shaking. "And have you forgotten the very first rule of being a vampire?" The thing cocked its head, all traces of a smile gone.
But Vlad was distracted. He sniffed at the air; what was that smell? Vlad looked around the room. It was absolutely gorgeous—like freshly baked bread, sausages frying in the pan, and a large, steaming bowl of beef stew, all rolled into one, except it was so much more than that.
Vlad's vision darkened; the room faded away, replaced by green grass. It was night, and he was standing somewhere at the edge of the castle grounds.
He jumped backward, face twisting in despair.
Strewn around his feet were dozens of corpses. Among them were the faces of his friends: Robin, Chloe, all of the Branaughs, their bodies bent and broken. Their skin was a sickly shade of grey. Dark fluid oozed steadily from their mouths and ears.
Vlad's hands felt strangely wet; he glanced down, alarmed to discover a bloody mound of flesh clutched tightly in his right hand. It was still beating—a human heart.
Slowly, Vlad realized, as he grew pale with horror, that this was the source of that beautiful smell.
His mouth watered, even as his gut roiled with disgust. He wiped at his lips, and found them covered in some sort of sticky fluid.
His hand came away red.
"NO!"
The mirror room shuddered back into view. He was sweating. "I will never hurt the people that I love!"
His reflection smirked.
"But you will drink blood. And you will love it more than you have ever loved anyone." His reflection reached for his hands a second time. "Stop fighting it, Vlad. Their blood will set you free."
He wasn't sure why, or how, but something in the way the reflection said it made Vlad's thoughts fall into place, the fog in his head clearing. Of course.
For the first time, Vlad smiled at his reflection, showing his teeth. Its eyes narrowed at him. "Your mind's gone quiet. Why are you smiling?"
Vlad laughed. "Because you've forgotten the first rule of being me."
With that, Vlad reached out and grabbed his opponent's hands, pulling him in. Their skin fused where their hands touched, and they shrieked in shared agony, the sound itself merging as their bodies melted together.
The torture seemed to go on forever; Vlad's screams echoed through the hall, until he could no longer even tell if he was screaming over the sound of the pain. Hours could have passed, or minutes.
And then, just like that… it stopped. Vlad opened his eyes. He heard shouting, and the sound of someone pounding on the door. The room spun before him, coming in and out of focus. And then, his world went black.