CHAPTER THREE
Alfred, though as confused and overwhelmed by self-loathing as Sarah was, was much more interested in preserving his existence rather than obliterating it. After all, he did not personally know those he killed as Sarah did—the villagers had been strangers when he arrived, and they still were strangers to him now. Also, Herbert was quite good at easing away some of the aching guilt he felt.
Not to mention there was something about having a centuries old vampire staring you down that put mortality into perspective.
For a long time, Alfred just kept silent and tried to avoid looking at the Graf. Not speaking unless spoken to was a rule he was accustomed to, especially with figures of authority. But was this man—this creature, rather, really an authority? Just because he had a title and power did not mean Alfred had to pay him any respect. After all, he was the enemy. The root of his and Sarah's pain, and all the pain they had caused in turn thereafter.
Questions started to flood Alfred's brain, making it nearly impossible to keep himself from asking. But which one was safe to ask? Would he receive an answer, or just have his throat ripped out?
He did make an arrangement about me with his son…it might be a reach, but I think I can safely bet that he spoils Herbert. He wouldn't just kill one of his son's…presents…Would he? Alfred thought, for once very glad to be an object of affection for the youngest von Krolock. In this place, the fact that Herbert, and perhaps even that Sarah cared about him was the singular thing keeping him alive. Speaking of Sarah…
"Why her?" he suddenly blurted out. "Why did it have to be Sarah?"
The elder vampire raised a thin brow, cool surprise crossing over his aristocratic features as he kept his gaze fixated on Alfred. He stayed silent for a few moments before finally speaking.
"Do you still have feelings for her even now?"
Of course, responding to a question with another question. How very…like him, Alfred thought with frustration.
"I don't know, you tell me. You supposedly can read my mind, after all…"
At this, the Graf's lips curled into an amused smirk. "I could never truly read your mind, Alfred. I can only sense emotions and desires in humans. Now that you are a vampire, I just have to use…intuition."
For a moment, Alfred was annoyed by the man's always arrogant tone, but then he realized something. That now, he would have that same power. He could feel what others felt and know what they wanted. It was somewhat frightening to think about, but at the same time, he felt a rush of excitement just knowing he would have such an ability. Not to mention all of the others, like flying..!
Shaking these fanciful thoughts away, he tried to focus on the subject at hand. Sarah. Did he care about Sarah? Did the Graf? As a human, he would have instantly answered yes to the first and no to the second. But now, reflecting on all that had happened, how each of them had actually treated one another, the lines were blurred. He didn't know what to think anymore.
If only vampires could feel the emotions of other vampires. Then I would know for sure.
"You didn't answer my question," Alfred pushed on insistently.
"You didn't answer mine."
Groaning in annoyance, the younger quickly spit out his response. "Yes, I still care about her. Now. Why did you pick her?"
The Graf sighed, indifferently toying with the rings that adorned his bony fingers. "Because I wanted to, that's why."
"That…that's not a real answer!" Alfred protested, his irritation growing stronger by the minute. "We made a deal, I told you the truth, now you owe it to me to do the same—"
The Graf was suddenly inches away from his face, coldly sneering, "Deals and fairness mean nothing to me, Alfred. The sooner you learn that, the better."
Alfred just stood there gaping as the other vampire calmly straightened back up and turned away. He wasn't sure if he should stop now while he was still alive, or stand up for himself—and for Sarah. As a human, it would take much more to get a rise out of him. But now, it was very difficult to keep his mouth shut, since every emotion he felt was multiplied threefold as a vampire. The more he ruminated on it, the more his anger grew, until he finally exploded.
"So what, you just used her for what, to feed your bloodlust and add another pretty face to your collection? That's who those other vampires were, weren't they? Previous victims! You just ruin people's lives for fun when you aren't killing them, is that it? Is that all life is to you? Even when you have all of eternity to do quite literally anything else? I don't know how you can act so smug living like that because honestly, that's pathetic. I pity you!"
He didn't get a chance to see how his heated, thoughtless words would affect the aristocrat, as Herbert finally returned that very moment.
"Oh good, he hasn't killed you yet," Herbert said with genuine relief before turning to his father. "She's a lot calmer now, but I wouldn't say she's fully alright, just—"
The Graf just rose a pale hand, stopping him from saying anything else. His expression, Alfred noticed, made it hard to discern exactly what he was feeling, though his eyes gave away that he was deep in thought. This only lasted a moment, however, as he soon left without another word.
"I hope he wasn't too hard on you," Herbert said with an apologetic smile. Alfred shook his head, before letting out a humorless laugh, still angry but also unexpectedly proud.
"Actually…I think it was the other way around."
Herbert tilted his head, giving Alfred an incredulous look. "What exactly do you mean?"
"Nothing, we just…exchanged a few words," Alfred said, shaking his head dismissively. His eyes darted about the room, for the first time really taking in his surroundings. The walls were smooth, painted powder blue. The curtains at the window were velvet and pastel purple, as were the covers on the bed at the center of the room. In the corner was an ivory desk with a small mirror attached, though Alfred couldn't imagine why Herbert would need one, considering his lack of a reflection and all…Everything was so airy and light, even a bit feminine, but not absurdly girlish. It wasn't exactly Alfred's style but he liked it.
"Was this your bedchamber when you were…um…"
"Alive? Human? Oh, yes, it was. But it's not as if I haven't been up here since then," Herbert explained, looking around the room fondly. "I try to keep it all updated, or at least dusted, from time to time. I wish father would do the same with the rest of the castle, or at least make Koukol do it, but alas, he seems to like basking in antiquities and decay. I think it's his way of clinging onto the past or something."
In more than one way, Herbert was an antithesis to what Alfred had always thought vampires would be like—and how most he had met, such as the Graf, really were like. Yes, Herbert was still a monstrous creature, but now, so was he. In comparison to the others, the blonde was the least threatening of all…though considering how he had almost attacked him the other day, Alfred still did not fancy the idea of sharing a room, much less a bed, with him. He hoped that wouldn't be the case, but since no one had yet brought up a coffin…
"Oh! I've completely forgotten the time!" Herbert suddenly exclaimed, rushing over to the window to make sure the curtains were completely shut. Not even a crack of light could be allowed to escape when the sun rose. "See, this is why coffins are so much safer, they're underground and have lids…but I suppose it is too late now to set up any other arrangement. We will just have to sleep like mortals today..."
The younger man cringed, hating that his hypothesis had been correct. Perhaps he could make a deal…
"Deals and fairness mean nothing to me, Alfred."
Did that cold sentiment just apply to the Graf, or were all vampires so deceitful and callous? Herbert didn't seem to be. Maybe he was just better at hiding it…But Alfred at least had to make an attempt to advocate for his own comfort.
"I will only sleep on the bed with you if you promise not to touch me. Otherwise, I'll settle for the floor."
A hint of warning flashed in his eyes as he fixed them on the other man, who was already lying down and pulling the lavender covers over himself. Looking up, Herbert gave a sad little pout.
"Oh come now, you still don't—"
"Yes, still," Alfred said firmly. "Do we have a deal, or not?"
Herbert hesitated to answer. "Well…I won't touch you on purpose, but I can't make any promises about what I'll do in my sleep."
The younger man rolled his eyes but shrugged, accepting this as good enough. He removed his shoes, jacket, and bowtie, but no more than that. After all, he didn't want to 'provoke' Herbert as the Professor had once said….How long ago that all felt now.
Sliding in under the silk sheets and sinking into the softness of the mattress, he found that this bed was the most comfortable thing he had ever laid upon—even despite having Herbert inches away from him. It felt like it was meant for a king.
"Good day, Alfred…" Herbert murmured with a yawn, rolling over away from him to allow more space between them. Alfred couldn't help but smile a little at the inversion of the usual bedtime expression.
"Good day."
/
As the Graf stalked back down the halls and down the stairs towards the underground burial chamber of the castle, he found it more and more difficult to push away his thoughts. First, there was that insolent little outburst Alfred made, which had shaken him much more than he would have liked to admit. He avoided thinking about that the most. But there was a much more pressing issue that plagued him. He had not given those ominous warnings to the other vampires just to be dramatic. That massacre in the village would have consequences, which he (and the limited number of individuals he cared about) would likely suffer for. He would have to build up some sort of defense, or go on the run…he didn't know which idea would be more likely to keep him alive. The only thing that kept him from doing either of those things immediately was the simple fact that those peasants at the bottom of the mountain were not prepared for such a battle against the undead just yet. Otherwise, they would have fended off their attack earlier. No, they would need time to find suitable weapons…and actually competent vampire killers.
At least that will buy enough time for me to plan a counterattack, he thought, trying to reassure himself. Though I doubt I'll also have enough time to deal with Sarah, Alfred, and their existential crises….
As he entered the crypt, he barely had time to look at Sarah before she confronted him with an inquiry.
"What is your name?"
He sighed, circling around her. "Everyone's so full of questions tonight…."
"Well pardon me, but it seems a bit absurd, keeping your first name a secret after all that has happened," Sarah responded curtly, crossing her arms. How was it fair that he knew so many things about her but she wasn't allowed to know anything about him?
"It is not just my first name you do not know," he mused with a small smile, then stepped a little closer to her. "My full name is Grigore Vadas von Krolock. Though of course, that last part is just an epithet for the grafschaft that was owned by my family. The territory has been split up and renamed many times over the centuries since then, but people tend to prefer using my formal title even so. Hardly anyone addresses me by anything else, so I usually introduce myself as nothing else."
Though he seemed to be boring himself, reciting all of this information, Sarah was listening very intently. Centuries…how many centuries old was he, exactly? How could someone live to be so old and yet, in moments like this, seem almost normal? Would she ever live to such an age, and if so, would she be anything like him?
"May I call you Grigore, then?" she finally asked, a bit tentative.
"If you wish," he shrugged, then turned towards the coffin behind her, sliding the lid off of it with ease. "Now, if you haven't any other questions, the sun will be rising any minute. We need to rest."
As he laid down inside, Sarah glanced around the darkness of the crypt with confusion.
"Where will I sleep?" she asked, noticing a slightly smaller coffin lying beside the one he was occupying. "This one?"
"Eh…I suppose Herbert wouldn't mind, as he isn't using it today it seems…but there's also room enough in mine. The choice is yours."
Sarah was taken aback by this suggestion. Perhaps she would have expected him to offer something so intimate before, when she was almost certain he fancied her, but now…well. She wasn't exactly sure of where they stood. Maybe sharing a coffin wasn't like sharing a bed to a vampire. Either way, if she had to sleep in a coffin, she would prefer she wasn't alone.
Climbing inside, she squeezed herself into the small space left, but still ended up halfway resting on top of the other vampire. The black silk lining was soft and comfortable, but the tightness was going to take some getting used to. When he started to pull the stone lid over them, she started to panic.
"Wait! I…I don't know if I can handle being shut in, not yet. I'll feel terribly…confined."
"And I'll feel so exposed…" he said with some objection, but left the lid where it was.
Sarah expected it to take hours for her to get to sleep, considering all of her racing thoughts and endless worries, on top of the discomfort of her sleeping quarters. But the sleep of a vampire ended up being exactly what one would expect: quick, deep, and dreamless…A reflection of the death she had cheated.
/
With the professor's instruction (which was backed up by Rebecca Chagal), the townspeople quickly laid out all their dead in the town square. Whenever they thought they had the last of them, another corpse was added to the pile, increasing the villager's despair. The professor was nearly the only person present who wasn't at least shedding a few tears.
Still, he was very tempted to gloat, since these same people had ignored his warnings and pretended they had no worries only days before…but he forced himself to refrain from mentioning that. He didn't want to be driven out simply because he was being insensitive in the face of so much death.
"We have to stake them all, you know," he said in a low murmur to Madame Chagal, who at first nodded, but then suddenly shook her head in protest.
"Wait, what about finding a cure?"
"I don't even know if one exists, and if it does, it will be impossible to control this many vampires until we find the antidote. Who knows if there will even be enough of it for all of them? No, we can only reserve hope for your Sarah and my Alfred."
"And Yoine."
"Yes, and him….but for the rest, there is only one solution to avoid anyone else being killed or cursed," he insisted. Clearing his throat, he called out to everyone else standing in the square.
"Attention! Attention everyone! I know this is a very difficult time, but there is something we must do, to protect us all. And we must do it quickly. We must stake all of those who fell victim to the vampires, lest they become the undead—"
As he expected, there were immediate cries of outrage. Most were only emphasizing their grief, speaking about how barbaric such a thing was, but one protest stood out to him.
"But the sun is rising, professor! If they are cursed, they will surely perish out here."
Abronsius glanced towards the horizon, which indeed was growing lighter by the second.
"We don't know the exact measure of sunlight it takes to kill a vampire, they could flee and find shelter before we even catch them. Please, everyone, let us not take risks! Let your loved ones rest in peace. Don't let them become what has destroyed them!"
After a few moments of whispering amongst themselves, a middle aged woman emerged from the crowd to approach the professor.
"Give me a stake."
Honestly a bit surprised someone had agreed so readily, the professor obeyed, handing her his hammer as well. With tears in her eyes, the woman approached one of the corpses in the square, a man who must have been her husband, and swiftly staked him through the heart. One by one, others soon followed. In an unexpected way, Abronsius found that watching families being forced to desecrate the bodies of their loved ones was almost worse than watching those loved ones being killed in the first place. But it was their moral duty.
"Professor, are you not exhausted?" Rebecca finally asked him. He shrugged.
"I've stayed up many a night conducting research…but yes, I suppose I am a little tired," he admitted, then gave a hesitant laugh as another thought came to him. "Let's just hope this lack of sleep doesn't make us nocturnal creatures…"
AN: I hope you don't totally hate my choice for Krolock's real name. It gets very repetitive just calling him 'the graf' over and over. I looked through quite a few German, Romanian and Hungarian names (as people of all of those nationalities were occupying Transylvania in the late 1500's) and Grigore just seemed to fit him. I can't really explain why. Vadas is a Hungarian surname I chose because 1) the Romanian ones basically all mean 'son of so and so' which is boring and 2), Vadas means "wild animal". So yes his name is a Romanian/Hungarian/German mess but Transylvania has always been that kind of a mess historically so I think it's realistic.
Grafschaft: basically means county, from what I understand using the dubious wonder that is Wikipedia. If I got this wrong or something, let me know.