18-something (3 years after the musical, 10 Years from where we left off)
Transylvania

There was a kind of hush over the village that settled in the mist and fog heavily. It was the kind of hush that only came with bad omens and you knew better not to be in its wake. Shutters drawn tight, and mothers huddling their children to their bosoms, clutching apron strings. The wolf bays at the moon.

The wind swept of the autumn leaves in a whirlwind against the grey cobblestone and black sky laced with storm clouds….something wicked this way comes.

One lone boy who was brave, dares to creek open the heavy shutters and rest his nose against the wood to see onto the abandon square…footsteps, gentle, bare footsteps against dry dead leaves and prickly pine needles. A skirt and cloak dragging, collecting. The boy heard the mewling of the yellow-eyed feline and shut the shutters quickly as not to catch the fiendish glance.

The footsteps continued; slowly, steadily at a good pace behind the feline as to follow its stalky lead. The inn, it was leading the mysterious traveler to the inn. God help the poor old widow who had maintained a meeker existence there. The wind seemed to whistle the plight of poor Rebecca Chagal.

"Rowan, be still." Rebecca heard the voice even as whispered as it was, arming herself with a rolling pin pushing her way through the garlic latten inn toward the pasture that bordered the estate. "Rowan, please not so loud!"

Rebecca saw the silver carafe of milk glint in the moonlight as she lifted up her stout arm, it swayed under the unevenly distributed weight the feline diving with the motion and then fell leaving a small pool of pure white milk slowly soaking into the earth, the voice sounded again this time with an air of annoyance. "Rowan! Now ye really did it, ye bloody tomcat!"

It was time for Rebecca to pounce, when the stranger was crouched down quite literally making a fuss over spilled milk, asking herself. "How am I going to explain this now?" running to slender fingers along the now moist earth.

At the sudden movement of the innkeeper the traveler gasped and in one twirling movement had gotten to her feet and dodged the blow, cloak hood falling off in the meantime. Rebecca and her rival's eyes going saucer-wide in exactly the same instant. Rebecca's hand flying up to her sputtering heart with a mixture of surprise and guilt—a young woman, a beautiful young woman who couldn't be more then 20 looking just as startled as she if not more so.

"Dew and mornin, you scared the living daylights out of me!" the traveler breathed out finally, Rebecca could have said the same but it might not have sounded as lovely as the highlander saying it. The innkeeper blinked, off in the shadows the feline submerged itself as a brilliantly orange tabby and she relaxed at the color—thanking God that it wasn't black. The young woman scooped the cat up into her arms apologetically.

"You have to forgive him. He smelt the milk and wanted a dram. We've been travelin for days you see without much to eat. He is frightful hungry, I dinna think it would spill! But if ye point me towards the nearest cow I'll gladly replenish it for you."

Poor thing, she did look slightly windblown and had a hint of dark circles under her pale green eyes, and the offer was kind enough. But for one of her age, where was her traveling companion? An old maternal pull panged at the old woman's heart; her dear lost Sarah was around this girl's age if not a little younger and she'd hope if Sarah was in this situation someone would show her kindness.

"You can do it in the morning. Its too late to do anything tonight. Are you traveling with anyone?".

"No ma'am, alone." The cat mewed in protest. "Save Rowan of course."

"Do you have much further to go?"

"Konigsberg."

Rebecca winced. "My dear, you are quite the ways away from Koingsberg, do you have lodgings for the night?"

The traveler shook her head. "I was goin to find a stable or somewhere else dry, that's good enough for the like of Rowan and I." Another cringe from Rebecca; if some of the village boys found a girl; let alone, one as lovely as this sleeping in their stables unaccompanied it might end in disaster for the poor child. And then Rebecca remembered and started to chuckle.

"You are very lucky then that your furry friend brought you outside of an inn then."

The traveler blinked but then dropped her head. "That's verra kind, but we dinna have any money."

"Oh nonsense; no one has stayed at this inn in years, I welcome the company." Rebecca draped an arm around the child to keep her from straying. "You are like ice!" she gasped at the feel of the cool, ivory skin. "There is no way I'm letting you go now! You'll catch your death a cold out here. Come inside"

"Thank ye kindly."

"Whats your name lamb?" Rebecca pressed as she shuttled the girl inside. Cat following dutifully behind.

The traveler met her gaze. "Brieanna, Brieanna McDune, of the McDune Clan in Scotland." Was the answer.

Rebecca was intrigued. "Is that so? All the way from Scotland."

"Aye ma'am, tis!"

"I've never been to Scotland!"…

"Are ye cooking something?" The traveler's dark nostrils flared in the act of sniffing the stale, poignant air upon entering the inn. Rebecca's bulk seemed to glide through the dark maze blissfully unaware and or accustomed to the odor to which her new, foreign lodger was referring. She turned.

"What do you mean?" the older woman pressed almost offended, rolling pin still in hand.

Luckily the girl was smart enough to change her tone at the sight of the rolling pin despite being so very tired. "I think I smell a wee bit of garlic, that's all." That was the understatement of the ages. Smell it? She could taste it and feel it seep into her pours, all but blinded by it.

There was a sharp jab into the woman's lower abdomen as an edge of an unseen table had taken to getting into her path and taking her breath out sharply, there was no light. Rebecca was blissfully unaware of that fact too, being as she was holding the only source of light. "Dew and mornin." Came the choked out curse in a hiss, taking to rubbing the spot. "Thank God I am not with child, dinna you have any more candles then the one you're holdin?"

Rebecca thought a moment at the new concept, she had seemed to move through a sort of sonar for so many years in the evenings that the candle she was holding now seemed almost a redundant thing when she had lit it. "No." she answered simply and then walked on.

The girl named Brieanna picked up her pace just so she could stay in a semi illuminated path behind her hostess. "Forgive me for being importunate, but….why?"

"Koukol takes them."

The arch of Brieanna's eyebrow was palpable in her shift of tone. "Koukol? What kind of name is Koukol for a lad? Assumin yer talkin about a lad."

"He takes them to his Excellency, always has."

"A nobleman? I see." There was a flicker of distain in the otherwise soft voice as they were now in the main sitting room and the girl was ushering herself blindly to what she hoped was a cushioned seat. Hostess now trying to tend to the fireplace. "I dinna fancy nobles myself, they always feel entitled to one thing or another. Some of the lairds in Scotland were like that. Does not his Excellency think you might like to see too? "

The charge in the voice brought a light chuckle to Rebecca's lips. "I supposed not."

"Well I would have the mind and cheek to tell him or his bonnie lackie; Kookoo, or Kluklux or whatever his name is."

Rebecca shook her head. "One look at Koukol and I think you might lose your nerve. Tea dear?"

"Aye, thank ye."

Rebecca continued an angry fluster suddenly coming to her cheeks. "My lecherous husband certainly didn't have the gumption to stand up to anything, horny old fool!" Mrs. Chagal had a very strange mourning process when it came to old Yione Chagal. The stages normally went; denial, sadness, barter, anger and then acceptance…yet she seemed to hit sadness and then skyrocketed to anger…and stayed there.

"I always knew he would leave me for that worthless Magda…..even if it was in death." She finished with a grumble.

"I'm frightful sorry—did ye say in death?" The girl questioned with a heightened interest as a tea cup was passed to her. Rebecca quickly changed the subject—the girl had already had enough of a fright almost being bashed in the head, she didn't need to hear the story.

"Whats in Kongsberg?' Rebecca reclined back in her seat with curiosity.

The creature across from her became deadly still, and Rebecca sensed something kindred in her companied with the motions of the eyes dropping to study the pale liquid of the tea. "…Someone I lost a verra long time ago." She started, eyes never shifting in something like guilt. "Someone I acted verra selfish to, but someone I loved verra much. I dinna even know if they are livin anymore, or if I have embarked on a fools errand. I'm hopin verra much that I am wrong." She paused.

"Poor girl, you ran away from home?" the innkeeper sat up straighter, to the edge of her seat guessing that her situation was closer to her own plight than originally thought.

"Aye, at a mere age of fourteen. It was… it was a longin that drew me away, I found what I was longin for, but now I'm longin again and I need to return home."

"A great love?"

"A father's love." There was something like moisture raising the pale orbs, a knuckle went to collect the tear and then the girl regained herself and change the subject grasping the fire prod and squatting before the stone fireplace in a helpful manor, cat taking her place in the chair. "Not verra much wood here. Dinna tell me his Excellency takes your fire wood too." Brieanna challenged over her shoulder.

Rebecca sighed tiredly at the thought. "No, I just haven't gotten around to cutting more. this inn a quite the hassle to keep up alone."

"You have no one to help you?"

"The lumberjack Orin will chop it for me for a sum of money I don't have." She scuffed.

The girl sat up and put her hands on her hips seeing to be just as annoyed at the implication. "Well that's a bonnie thing indeed!" she started. "A kind lady like yerself havin to chop your own wood and no one offerin to help. And you'll forgive me for sayin; but you're not of the age to be doin such things alone." She went back to the fire haughtily. "I hate inconsiderate people!"

There was a sudden spark in the fireplace like magic, making the flames go to a normal height. The innkeeper startled and the girl sat back down moving the cat to her lap. The traveler hesitated after a due moment of silence, looking to see if the hand that had been holding the heavy rolling pin was empty.

"Ye never told me about the garlic…"

Rebecca started up in a barreling voice. "Garlic is wonderful! It does so many things! It keeps you healthy! Keeps you strong! Garlic! Garlic! Gar…lic…" she had burst into tears, violent sobs. The memories had become all too much. If there was one thing garlic couldn't do, it was suppress the pain of losing her daughter. She could understand why Sarah had run away from her buffoon of a father, but why punish mama? Mama who nursed her and changed her!

"Did I say the wrong thing?" the girl looked concernedly at her hostess, getting to her feet. Almost preferring to be hit by a rolling pin.

Rebecca blew her nose in the sleeve of her nightgown. "My daughter ran away too….and I'll never see her again or know why." She wailed

The traveler ever so gently gathered up her skirts and knelt before the older woman and looked deep into the eyes. "Maybe someday ye will. Dinna worry. Dinna be sad." She took the woman's hand and like a rush of water washing over rocks something at the girl's touch spread calm and trust over Rebecca.

It was a marvelous night for flying…. That is if you weren't Alfred Swartz and you weren't flying away from your "bite-happy" mate while trying to avoid your other not-so-welcomed love-sick mate. Biting as a form of affection between vampires Alfred's foot! It hurt if you were undead or not. There was nothing tender or affectionate about biting even if it was from Sarah's pretty red mouth—he almost was beginning to prefer Herbert's flamboyant, schoolgirl fussing over him.

He managed to land haphazardly in a tree about as effective as he had ever been as a vampire, as seen by all the various rips and tars from tree limbs in his once pristine velvet redcoat. Alfred managed to straighten himself as best he could and catch his breath. This whole ordeal had been a pain in the neck from the start…literally.

He picked the leaves from his blonde ringlets and looked upon the inn where it had all started three years ago… freezing to death…. If someone would have told him it was going to go downhill from there…he would have laughed.

Alfred felt dizzy, he could only drink blood from rats, barely even able to stomach that idea. It wasn't very substernal. To think; he could have married a nice girl in Konigsberg, ran the family library. He could be having a hot meal right now with one or two porky little babies yowling in the background and a pretty wife…not even a pretty wife but at least a sensible one like Mrs. Chagal had been, or his childhood friend Brunhilda; the professor's daughter, had she not run away…

Not that things had ended much better for her, he imagined. Or for Mr. Chagal for that matter; who had been after the buxom maid Magda for so long after he got tired of poor Mrs. Chagal…well he got what he wanted and seemed to trade one wife that was unhappy with him…for another wife who was just as unhappy with him and made him just as miserable. Tis the way of marriage.

That's not even to say what happened to the poor professor, to which he had no idea.

No one had ended up happy. Except for maybe Sarah who blissfully paraded around calling herself "The Bride of Von Krolock" without much indication that it was true especially from the Count himself. all Alfred did know was, if it was true Herbert Von Krolock would gorge himself with garlic and holy water before he ever addressed the wayward "star-child" as "Stepmother"…but what a Cinderella the young Viscount would make!

That settled it! Alfred wanted out. The Professor had said something about blood transfusions restoring Sarah; he wondered if that trick could still work for him…if only he knew where the Professor was!

"Hey ho Hey." He called out faintly, even as day was just beginning to break over the horizon and he knew he had to get back to the crypt before he became toast. He went to turn away but like an omen from Heaven, the light in the Chagal inn of the room where he and The Professor had stayed… the one that had been off for so long, the empty room illuminated suddenly with light catching Alfred's eyes.

Maybe there was hope!

*CHOP, SWOOSH! CHOP* Rebecca woke with a start to the sound below her window and toddled over from her bed to throw open the sash to the noise and a crisp, snow-blanketed day. Rebecca rubbed her sleep crusted eyes. .

The girl had little else on from what she had on the night before to brace her from the cold, the long thick brown hair now tied up in a bun crowning her head the neck, shoulders and breasts as white and pure as the snow from her vantage point with falling tendrils to contrast against high cheekbones.

The arms were slender, feminine and delicate silhouetted in the sleeves in the light reflected off the snow but they moved with great agility and force to bring down the axe and split the wood. The tabby cat off in the corner hunting some field mouse in the snow.

There was already a fairly good pile of firewood building up when Rebecca looked, as if the girl had been at the task for quite sometime, and the strokes were melodic.

Brieanna looked up and smiled at her surprised hostess. "Good Mornin Madam Rebecca!" she called up sunnily.

"Morning Ms. McDune." The hostess replied.

The girl lifted her chin letting go of the axe, the white knuckles red and frozen, a finger pointed toward the now full milk carafe. "I replenished the milk bright and early this morn for ye! You'll find breakfast on the table, I'll finish up with the firewood and will join ye momentarily."

Rebecca blinked. No one had ever made breakfast for her before… she was in a hurry to see what the girl's room looked like….cleaner then it had ever looked! In fact unless her eyes were playing tricks on her the whole inn looked as if it had been tended to!

And the breakfast was a full breakfast of eggs and hash and meat for four people! "Good God!" Rebecca thought in awe. "Had the girl gotten any sleep?"

When the door opened she expected the girl to look haggard and tired from the gesture, but instead; the girl, Brieanna looked replenished, refreshed even. She sucked in a breath as she crossed the threshold with a small basket of wood. "Oh tis a bonnie morning indeed!" she sighed setting the basket by the stove.

"Ms. McDune, did you do all this?" Rebecca questioned gesturing to….everything.

"Aye! Oh dinna look so cross with me Madam, I wanted to! from what ye were tellin me last night, you sounded like you needed some pamperin, and ye shouldna need to chop wood for the rest of the Winter…I dinna mind doing it, really! Although, my shoulders are a might bit stiff now!" she winced, throwing some more wood into the stove. "Must be me age rearing its wee, ugly head at me."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-seven, practically an old maid."

Rebecca Chagal would hate to think what that made her if twenty seven was "practically an old maid."

Brieanna's face suddenly grew serious as she sat across from her hostess. "Perhaps I did have an ulterior motive, after all she admitted as Rebecca took in a bite of eggs. She suddenly blurted it out. "Madam Rebecca can I stay? Just for awhile."

Rebecca nearly choked….why would anyone want to stay here? There was nothing here!

"I thought you were heading to Kongsberg!" Rebecca reminded, jumping a mile high when the tabby Rowan suddenly jumped into her lap as if to coax her and help his mistress' case.

"I was—I am!" the girl sputtered and then shrugged. "Maybe you'll be callin me a coward but I'm a little afraid of what I'll find when I go. I thought—I thought if I could distract myself here awhile longer I could…"

"Build up your nerves? I understand child." She shooed the cat off her lap.

"So what do ye think? I'm a fierce hard worker, ye wouldna have to pay me a penny, and I thought…." The girl paused before going over to one of the many strands of garlic and taking a pearly clove in her hand. "I was thinkin we could make this into ale and sell it to the local lads, it might make a profit, bring yer business back up!"

Garlic ale? It might be worth letting the girl stay just to see how such a thing could be done…she was a Scot after all and Rebecca had heard over the years through travelers that the Scottish people had a nack for ale…and it wasn't like business could decline. The whole town thought the inn was cursed anyway. Maybe it was time to let the garlic go and change….and the girl had made the inn so clean! Oh so clean! And she had a hot meal without lifting a finger!

Rebecca stood and after a moment smiled. "You can stay as long as you want Ms. Brieanna McDune!"

The girl beamed, surprising her hostess with an embrace. "Oh thank ye! You won't be regretin it I swear!"

A month later….

Regret it was certainly something Rebecca did not do. The girl, Brieanna as she was becoming more commonly known was indeed an asset to the inn, very faithful and loyal to Rebecca, at times Rebecca thought she abused the girl's kindness and enthusiasm but then again… it was nice to have a hand around the inn again. Though her hand came with some queer habits…

Like the one time Rebecca had ask Brieanna to join her and see the beautiful, honey-colored moon in its fullness Brieanna seemed to shy away from even stepping out the door or going near a window, it was the only time Rebecca had known the girl to shy away from anything. "I'm sure it is a verra pretty sight. I'm going to go sweep my room." Is all Brieanna would say about full moons before locking herself away in her room with the broom. She swept her room quite often. The strange thing was…Rebecca would find the broom the next morning in the oddest places; outside, in the stable, in the kitchen by the door disregarded like a coat. And that cat was never seen anywhere without Brieanna; though it was friendly enough….or as friendly as cats normally are. And Brieanna seemed to have an uncanny knowledge of herbs…in fact, Brieanna seemed to have an uncanny knowledge of everything.

She may have sounded like a simple Scottish village girl but at times she would quote philosophers and scholars that through Rebecca for a loop. As in the time when she had first made garlic ale and manage to mask the odor of the stinking rose completely. Brieanna had tried in vain to explain to the innkeeper scientifically what she had done. She followed it up with the saying "Logic, logic, logic my dear Madam Rebecca."

That reminded the innkeeper of something but for the life of her…she couldn't remember what.

Well whatever it was that Brieanna did to make the ale, it worked. The inn suddenly became alive again and passersby would sing of its praises overseas; sailors would come and sing shanties for a paint of ale and a dance with some of the local girls. Always blistering with body heat and merriment. Rebecca reviled in it! Without her dumb husband always shutting down her ideas or Magda lacking about dreaming of a prince, she was making money hand over fist and it was wonderful.

…though sometimes Rebecca did take advantage of Brieanna's kindness...

Brieanna was not in a very good mood to begin with the inevitable day that Koukol had come to call for candles.

She had been in the village earlier to acquire some fresh fish from the monger, along with some other things that the inn might have needed. In the square the lumberjack Orin was peddling his wares to any abled bodied men who could buy and carry whole logs of wood home and it did not set well with her at all. Especially when she saw widowed mothers with their children in the back of crowds shivering, without one thought of attention. Women and families that she knew…freezing.

It didn't take her long to make her way through the crowd of men to the lumber cart. The lumberjack Orin stood with one leg propped up on one of the logs staring out into the clear sky with a piece of straw dangling from his lips. Orin was all scruff and beard with brown eyes, but young.

"Excuse me!" Brieanna had to call up several times before he actually turned his head. "Might I trouble ye for some wood?"

Orin jumped down, nearly stomping on Brieanna's toes in the process before heading toward the front of the cart. "You can pay me and your husband can retrieve it later." He spat on the ground.

Brieanna pursed her lips momentarily before following at the man's heels, Rowan in toe as always. "But ye see, I dinna have a husband to retrieve it later." She started before pointing in the crowd. "And neither does that lady there, or that lady there, and that lady there has three weeins and a husband abed with a fever."

"And?" he questioned, placing his hand on the cart and drinking her in with his eyes.

"And I was wonderin if ye might be so kind to deliver some wood to their houses since they have no means to carry it for themselves."

"It will cost extra."

"These people can barely afford wood at the rate ye have it at."

"Not my problem. If these women are widowed and do not have healthy sons to aid them or money, it is their misfortune."

Brieanna blinked as the wind blew in a chill. "But there are signs in the air that the Winter will be verra harsh this year!"

"That is their misfortune not mine!" he retorted.

The girl scoffed. "That's a fine thing comin from a man with enough hair on his face to look like he should be bayin at the moon!" she then addressed her cat preening itself at her heels with a calm arched eyebrow as the lumberjack now tended his mule. "Now theres something you dinna see every day Rowan, an ass pullin another ass in a cart! Tis a wonder."

There were snickers from onlookers hurting the lumberjack's pride, in one quick movement he pulled her semi out of view after declaring that if the girl would not hold her tongue and she wanted to pay the others dues for delivery, grabbed her in an ungentlemanly fashion and tried to force a tongued kiss down her throat to which she pushed him, to which his hand fell hard across the cheek, hard enough to snap the head to one side.

Neither did this set well with Brieanna; her fist, not a slap mind you, but a full-fledged punch to the jaw sent the lumberjack stumbling back into the crowd who gasped at the bold move. "And if ye would not had gained on me, ye wouldna had the opportunity to strike me at all, ye right bastard!" she announced.

Orin still holding his jaw spat again. "You will burn in hell for this!" he cursed.

"Maybe so." She lifted her chin

"You know what they say about unmarried maidens who cohort around with cats?"

"Aye, that they are not to be reckoned with!" she challenged undaunted.

"That there is a pyre somewhere for them to burn!"

The threat was not idle. She looked around, not one person, not even the ones she had been trying to help and advocate for had budged to her aid, they were frightened… how many other strong women had faced the same prosecution and worse because they spoke their minds or tried to protect themselves and others were afraid, and turned away.

"So be it then." she breathed meeting the gaze evenly before turning to go, touching her still burning cheek., but the worst sting of all was that in this; like with most other matters…she was completely alone.

But it was satisfying to hear the man step in mule dung a moment later, thanks to a subtle shift of the girl's fingers.

It was a long walk back over the hill to the inn as the wind blew hard against her, hugging her wrap as tight as she could manage. Rowan fighting to jump over the tall grass. At the bottom of the hill she saw a hunchback figure lingering by the front door, licking the three teeth protruding from his mouth savagely as he waited the hefty innkeepers return.

Brieanna happened to look up in her window…. Rebecca was there! In her room! Which she locked! When the innkeeper emerged with what little candles Brieanna had and passed them off to the hunchback, the girl had lost her temper completely.

The next thing anyone knew Koukol, the servant to his Excellency was face to face with the four, glistening metal prongs of a pitchfork and blazing emerald eyes. "I'll run ye through! Drop. Them. Now!" came the demand.

Koukol gulped dropping the candles and hissing, before turning back to the castle and pointing furiously to it grunting, this only made the grip on the pitchfork tighten.

"His Excellency wants them ye say!" she stated mockingly. "Tell his Excellency he can damn well have em, when he gets off his bonnie arse and ask for them himself sayin please and thank ye like a decent human being; and even after that, over my dead, cold body!" and with that Koukol got a sharp jab in the rear-end and it sent him on his way.

"Go on now! Don't ye have a bell to be ringin."

With wide eyes, Rebecca went to pick up the scattered candles, only to be stopped by the sound of the wind picking up, the sky darkening and the clad of the pitchfork falling away from Brieanna. The girl looked off darkly into space as the wind gust around them as if by the girl's own design.

"Rebecca." She started. "I respect ye highly, but dinna ever go into my room again, ye kin?" Brieanna looked at her over her shoulder; waiting for an answer, mess of brown hair strung in her face.

All Rebecca could do was nod and at her response, the wind seemed to die down. The girl entered the inn.

The innkeeper looked down the path that the displaced hunchback had toddled down toward The Castle Von Krolock and just prayed that His Excellency would not take the girl at her word too seriously.

… He did…

Alfred had somehow managed to land…or…dive bomb for lack of a better word back into the same tree he had crash landed into a few months ago when he swore he had smelt traces of the professor's blood or something similar to it on the breeze. He hadn't expected it to take him so long to sneak back. But somehow, there had not been a moment's peace for him to get away.

Sarah was going through one of her "I'm bored with Alfred now" phases and was back to planning the undead wedding to The Count, this time going as far as announcing it to more than just him… Alfred had thought that he had heard Herbert say that she was going as far as breaking into the Count's chambers to try and seduce him into marriage. And being as no one had seduced the 400 year old Count into anything he didn't want to do sense he was alive and a very young man and sex actually had that kind of effect on him…it wasn't going over well, but it did make him laugh…the first two times.

He was the seducer, not the seducee.

One would think that with Sarah distracted it would allot Alfred more freedom…one would think…

"Yooo hooo Alfred!" The airy male call carried prettily to Alfred's ears as the silvery bat with pastel wings silhouetted the sky. "Alllfred my darling, where are you hiding?"…. Herbert, Herbert for sure, it wouldn't be long now.

If he could just…just get inside the inn and talk to The Professor.

He went to make his move but a sudden, unnerving sight caught him. A tall, black cloaked figure moved silently in the masses making its way toward the welcoming lights and sounds of the inn. Alfred couldn't believe it… he had to crawl to the edge of his perch to be sure that it was, what he thought it was…which was an ultimate failure seeing as he slipped and ended up dangling from the branch like a koala bear for 2.5 seconds before dropping into a thorny shrub below. But it was exactly what he thought…

"His Excellency!"

It was always a good night when sailors came into the inn with instruments and bustling energy to play them with; as voices raised in song, and bodies in constant movement either in dancing or drinking. This night was one of those well nights where more than one ship had come into port and all the sailors were thirsty for a good time and the entire village seemed to crawl out from hiding to join in.

There was little to no moving room at the inn save for the small space that was reserved strictly for dancing, where feet thundered away and couples weaved in and out of the line either skillfully or sloppily but always with joy or without a care. No healthy, able girl was safe from being whisk away to that side of the room.

Currently the top couple was a rather slender Frenchman who had put down his accordion just long enough to entreat the pretty, barefooted Scottish maid who had been serving ale as if the inn were a tavern, to a rousing dance that involved a lot of stomping and clapping. She seemed to have the energy for it. Back to her normal mood if not better.

Rowan took his normal perch on a barrel as not to get his tail stomped on but where he could still see, and he did see…in fact he was the only one to see the dark, cloaked figure with no face slip in among them like death itself, and take a seat discreetly at the end of one of the long wooden tables unnoticed. Rowan hissed…. He did not like the way the eyes under the cloak were fixated on the flashes of the snow-white feet and ankles of his mistress gliding across the dancefloor.

Suddenly a slender, almost skeletal hand resting on the table under an aristocratic sleeve, Rowan hissed again and from across the room the stranger hissed back… danger was near.

After the dance was over, the Frenchman took to kissing the girl's hand and thanking her for the privilege, and with a merry jest asked when she was going to marry him? because he was going to be in town a few days, to which Brieanna chuckled just as light heartedly, gave a quick-witted reply and went back to Rebecca to retrieve her serving things.

"Good heavens girl." The innkeeper gasped. "Aren't you the least bit tired? You've been going all night."

Brieanna beamed, flustered. 'How can I be? Tis a full moon out tonight!" and with that headed away toward more customers… toward HIM, leaving Rebecca stumped, she thought the girl had hated full moons!

As she made her way towards the front of the inn the opacity seemed to get more and more jammed packed as more patrons filed in and out until you almost had to walk sideways to get anywhere. In addition to the jigsaw puzzle of people, the girl now had her over anxious tabby darting between her feet in warning.

The fall was inevitable, she was lucky she didn't break her ankle, and luckier still that the fall was cushioned by a lap and that said lap had strong, broad shoulders to clutch onto accompanied by quick hands to keep her from falling any further…no just straight into the lap of death. She gasped. "I am frightful sorry Sir. The inn is gettin a wee bit crowded. But I thank ye for catchin me."

She begun to regain her wits as her heart thundered from the almost accident, it happened in a blink of a second but the hands lingered on her waist just to make sure she was steady, it wasn't in a rude way, but it did last a bit long, not that she was quick to let go of the muscularly cut shoulders either.

"I'll just be gettin off your lap now." She managed hoisting herself away from her rescuer who she hadn't even looked at yet. "I'll get you some ale, on the hou—" she stopped herself catching a first glimpse of the hands that had been around her as they shrunk back at her glance. The head lowering to hide the face under the hood. But she already knew..

"Or perhaps, its not ale ye'll be wantin." She said more evenly, coolly.

"Brieanna!" Rebecca called her away suddenly and she was glad to get away from such a meeting at least for now, and something told her that wasn't the meeting that her unwelcomed visitor had in mind either.

It was later in the evening when Brieanna could finally let her hair out of its bun and cascade down her back in the moonlight as she collected the close off the line and let the air cool her sweat beaded skin. Rebecca was dead asleep from too much ale, so there was no chance of her looking out the window and seeing the maid in such a state. She welcomed the feeling of being free in the exhilarating moonlight and sang a folksong to herself lowly, as she waited.

He didn't take long. Rowan farrowed. With a smirk she unpinned another close pin without turning to acknowledge his presents. "Dinna anyone tell ye its not very polite to creep up on unsuspecting maidens in the night, your Excellency?" she chuckled. "Then again, I wasna unsuspecting was I."

"it was rather hard to acquire an audience with you any other way." Was the answer. "The candles."

"Aye, the candles." She still didn't turn, reaching for another pin. It was his turn to study her hands, their sudden change of hue to pale green, her arms also that shade.

"May I have them now?" he questioned half mockingly, his voice a mixture of darkness and silk, and danger. "Now that you have assaulted my henchman, and I have fulfilled your request to make an appearance."

It was her turn to be cocky. "I dinna hear you say please. Or did yer hunchback leave that part out?"

"Please."

She folded a sheet, tilting her head. "And… thank ye?"

"You haven't given them to me yet." He reminded, confident in the fact that he would get them.

Brieanna clicked her tongue, disregarding the folded sheet on a nearby table finally giving him the opportunity to meet her gaze, which he did evenly; no longer cloaked. Neither of them were disguised. Just ice blue eyes meeting with fiery green for the first time. It was…electric.

"I also said, over my cold, dead body…" she reminded taking a long, spindly hand to reach behind the thick brown hair and move it away from the neck with a cool air and an offering tilt. "Perhaps, ye would like to take care of that too?" she suggested, it was a test.

The Count gave a dazzling smile that made the chiseled features of his face even more defined and intriguing. "Whatever spell you have cast over your own blood to conceal its aroma from me, is very impressive. You should be pleased, Madame Witch." He commended with a low bow that was all at once disarming to the situation.

The tension of Brieanna's shoulders dropped, this was the truths she had been looking for, he wasn't going to hurt her, she wasn't going to hurt him. Her powers had no effect on him, his powers had no effect on her. the playing field was even.

"Its not a spell." She explained taking a more relaxed stance. "Its in the blood, its supplies a kind of immunity." She tilted her head again only this time it was more in mockery of a curious child.

"Ye know, I've never met a vampire before!" she stated simply.

He pursed his thin lips equally amused, and gave a nod. "I've never met a witch before." He returned. The crickets played a symphony in the night.

Brieanna gestured to the table hospitably. "Would ye like to sit a spell? I would offer ye a refreshment but I'm not sure that would be right."

He took the seat in a graceful dip. "You already offered." He reminded, looking fondly at his neighbor, he had never thought to introduce himself to his neighbors before aside from borrowing candles and stealing teenaged daughters, but he supposed this was an exception. "And your name is?"

"Where are my manors, Brieanna McDune." She sat across from him, getting herself a mug of cider.

"An unusual name Brieanna." He remarked. "Scottish?"

"True enough." She smiled. His face looked so familiar to her, and what he wasn't saying was he had the same feeling.

After a moment she spoke again. "How long have ye been dead?'

"Over 400 years." He answered.

"That would make you…"

"453 years old this November." He took pride in his age, not that anyone ever asked; in fact this was the most trivial, nonchalant conversation he had in centuries, and it was kind of nice…

"You look heartful good for yer age, though I imagine it would get fearful lonely."

And this was how they passed the evening…simply conversing over little matters, no fear, no threats, just enjoying the moonlight together.

When it was time to part for the evening The Count once more reminded the witch of the candles as more of a jest and once more she declined him only with a smile this time. To which he asked as he escorted the witch to the door of the inn.

"What kind of a world is this where one neighbor cannot borrow a cup of sugar from another?"

To which the witch turned to him laughing and replied. "But tis not a cup of sugar you're askin to borrow, its candles to which we are almost out of."

Then an idea lit her eyes as she turned around in the doorframe, near shuttering at the closeness of their two forms as his cloak seemed to swallow them whole.

"Alright." She relented. "Meet me at my window."

And just as it had been done three years ago with a boy, and a girl and a sponge; a single red, none-melting candle stick was passed through an open window, gently from cupped green hands to talon hand before they said goodnight.

A witch and a vampire. An original sin…

Well here it is part 2 of the Tanz Der Vampire fic

Poor Alfred just can't catch a break, I kinda like their first meeting...not too OOC or sappy, I hope and I will be bring more characters in

comments are always nice