So... I got a good deal less reviews last time than is usual. I know some people are internetless over the summer, but if it's that the chapter was too long TELL ME! XD Because I'm not a mind reader but can make them smaller if I know to. I just wanted to make sure that the size wasn't driving people off, hahaha. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far, rest assured that the real action starts here!

Chapter 4

Of Waking

Adrian was halfway to the kitchen table when the bout of dizziness hit him. He stumbled, feeling the room spin and turn black about the edges. Nausea hit him hard, first as warmth that escalated to boiling in his stomach and then spreading into a swirling heat that sped upward through his throat. He vaguely saw himself stumble into the kitchen and grab onto the long table holding the china near the entrance to support himself, the knowledge that he would not be able to reach the table dimly flowering in his foggy mind.

He heard Valeria scream and run from the room to fetch Lisa and heard the scraping of a chair as Maria stood, rushing to support him, and Vlad's heavy footfalls rushing to him, but felt neither of their hands. The only evidence he was given that they had him was his world tipping and falling again as he was placed in his chair and the only sound he could hear clearly was the blood rushing through his ears at incredible speed, which sounded more as if he'd been plunged into a pool with a weight tied to his feet.

Images began to flash before his eyes as the human world faded. Images of Castlevania, the forest overlooking it, the feel of the fine cotton shirt underneath the heavy clothes marking his noble lineage, the metallic tang of blood. As the images began to rush into his head with more clarity and the sense of the place started to gain more reality he panicked. Blue-grey eyes opened wide as he struggled against the return of that place, grasping onto Lisa as she arrived, desperately pleading with words he didn't even know left his lips that she would not disappear and leave him again.

He felt an unpleasant pulling begin at the edges of his mind, like someone was attempting to wrench him from his body and he struggled harder, his mind trying to get a steady hold on this reality like a man dangling from a cliff searching for his life saving handhold. But he felt himself slipping already, no matter how hard he tried to grip.

Slowly, he felt himself lose his mental grip, bit by bit as the pull against him became stronger and in one last, desperate attempt he gave up the struggle to stand his ground in this reality and clung to what mattered most in it. His mother was at the front of his mind, Maria and his child that she was carrying, Valeria, and lastly, his father and the dream that maybe, as a human, they could be something like a loving family.

~~~*~~~

The first thing that Adrian felt beneath him was hard stone against his back and pressure on his chest. The first thing that he heard was the minute shuffling of stiff robes. And the first thing he smelled was dampness, fertile soil…

He lay without moving for a moment and then, ever so slowly, he chose to open his eyes. His gaze met familiar crimson eyes, the very ones that he was dreading to see.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound would come out. His throat felt stretched, painful. He swallowed hard and opened his mouth for another attempt, licking his lips and in a scratchy, painful voice affirmed, "Father…"

Vlad nodded his head once. For a moment he felt dazed, like he was seeing through someone else's eyes and then the feeling vanished, replaced by a niggling sensation that something was not quite right.

He looked down on Adrian, frowning as he saw a slight fever sheen against Adrian's skin, a reaction that only happened when the man had been out in the sunlight too long and had gotten a case of heat stroke. That, Vlad knew, was certainly not the case now. It must have been from the spell.

"Adrian," Vlad said, trying to gauge if he had the man's full attention. "You were struck by poison. Do you remember what manner of creature you were struck by?" he asked.

It did not matter, not really, but Vlad was trying to discern how much memory the man had of the attack. The poison was apparently gone from his system and Vlad had already followed the instructions to get his son back to him. He'd completed the ritual, and he knew the motive behind the attack, as well as who had sent the beast, which had been slain. Poisons, however, were notoriously tricky. Even if one managed to dispel the poison from their system it could have lasting effects.

Adrian made a half hearted attempt to focus fully on his father, failing miserably. His vision was blurred, and the vampire's speech seemed slurred. The only thing Adrian could focus on was the crimson eyes of the vampire, the fangs that came in and out of his vision as he spoke…

Adrian could not believe that his entire ordeal had been a dream. He had been skeptical, at first, but he had been careful. There had been no lapses into the poison, back into Castlevania, after the first little bit; the new world had touched on every sense. Doubt began to blossom in his mind, overtaking the garden the perfect familial image had made in his mind with the ugly weeds of his misery. It had to have been a dream if he was back here. All an effect of the poison.

He felt a cool hand slide over his forehead and knew that Vlad was checking to make sure that his lack of response did not come from some inability to hear, or some… memory lapse. "The monster," Adrian said in a questioning tone, unsure if he had heard the question correctly. "Yes, the monster. I remember," he said forcefully, turning his head sharply to one side, away from Dracula.

Vlad's lips thinned and he frowned, suddenly aware of the shuffling of the priests every so often and their eyes on him. "Leave this hall!" he growled loudly, turning to face them. They left silently, heads bowed, the only sound the shuffling of their robes.

Adrian sat up slowly, warily, looking at Vlad as if unsure whether or not he might vanish at any moment. Adrian swung his legs over the side of the slab, sending his mind reeling and twisting in a bout of dizziness.

He leaned forward, feeling Vlad's hands instantly supporting him by the shoulders. Adrian attempted to recoil, to get away, but he didn't have the energy. His skin felt like hot and cold pinpricks were all over it and desperately he attempted to regain sight, only seeing snippets of the room around him, flashes of stone, of Vlad's black brocade shirt…

~~~*~~~

Adrian came to again lying on a rather large expanse of bed and feeling only half aware of what had happened. The room was obscured in darkness save for lightly flickering candle light bouncing off of the rough stone walls and a thought flashed back to him, waking to see serene sunlight filtering in, lighting the rough wooden walls and floorboards of the cottage with golden light…

He slowly pushed himself up off of the mattress, the best quality that money could buy in that day and age, and patiently waited for his eyes to adjust to the flickering candle light, which seemed to be absorbed by the dark corners of the room. It was a large room with the walls consisting of grey bricks of stone. A large burgundy rug lay at the side of the bed, fitting nicely with the royal purple covers, the soft white linen of undercover protecting him from the scratchy wool of the purple blankets. There was little furniture, but what was there was elegant. A mahogany armoire fit the corner of his room across from his bed and an elegant writing desk, dark mahogany with gold leaf set into the corners with a few pieces of parchment and a handsome black feather quill sitting near a closed bottle of ink in a silver inkpot with swirls set into it sat midway across that wall.

He lifted one bone pale hand to his face, his mind flickering to remember the skin that was pale, but still pink with blood rushing through the veins at a more human pace. His skin now appeared as bleached as his white linen shirt, the only colour the light blue tracery of his veins, though even that was dulled by the slower flow of blood through his body despite the almost translucently pale pallor of skin. He chewed at his bottom lip in thought, his mouth thinning as the familiar feel of his fangs against the flesh became evident. The hand, still held up, clutched into a fist and was lowered to the bed as he turned away from his inspection of it.

The heavy wooden door opened slowly, bringing with it a rush of cool humidity and Vlad Tepes. The vampire approached his son swiftly, taking the chair from the writing desk fluidly and placing it beside the dhampire's bed.

"You're feeling better, I see," the man stated, "Is there any sign left of sickness?"

The dhampire was silent for a moment, seeming to gauge whether or not he should respond to the vampire's words. Finally his breath left him in a sharp exhale and he nodded. "Only a little," he said firmly. "Why… why did you bring me back?" he asked at length.

Vlad looked over at him, his eyes widened. "You would have died otherwise!" he insisted. "You were in a coma, Adrian."

Adrian shook his head, "I was… elsewhere, father. I wasn't…" He licked his lips, attempting to find the words to explain himself. A voice in his mind angrily said, 'you shouldn't have to explain yourself!' Adrian pressed his lips together, once again feeling the fangs press into his bottom lip.

"You would have died, Adrian," Vlad stated once again, his tone more firm this time. "I saved you from that."

"Saved me?" Adrian asked, a halting, bitter laugh half escaping his throat, choked off as soon as it arrived. He had been so sure that the dream was real. 'I'm a fool,' Adrian thought, breathing deeply and trying not to think about his mother, the notion of a proper family, spending a day in the sunlight, in a marketplace like a normal man, trying not to betray the way those thoughts made his eyes sting. "You did not save me, father," he said, his voice betraying him as it broke slightly. Even if it had been a dream, he would rather have died there than to live here.

Adrian attempted to sit up farther, swinging his legs, dressed in soft grey slacks, over the side of the bed only to be met with another wave of dizziness. He involuntarily fell forward, trying to snatch at anything to keep his balance. He felt Vlad's arms, strong but surprisingly gentle for the man, around him.

Adrian clenched his eyes shut for a moment, willing the wave of dizziness to pass before pushing against Vlad, trying to loosen his grip. "Let me go, father. I am fine," the dhampire muttered, outstretched hands pushing Vlad away and head averted to the side so that his flaxen pale hair fell forward and obscured his face.

Vlad seemed to hesitate a moment but gave Adrian what he wished for, retracting his hands slowly to make sure that the dhampire would not once again falter.

"If you wish to get out of this bed, Adrian," Vlad said slowly, as if testing his words before speaking them aloud. "I can help you with that. If only just to go for a walk," he offered.

Adrian looked up, watching the vampire suspiciously through narrowed golden eyes. "There is something…" he shook his head, "You are acting strangely, father. What has happened?" he demanded.

Vlad watched the man intently, crimson eyes calculating until he stood, brocade rustling. "I am not the one who has changed, Adrian," he insisted, bringing his chair back to its resting place by the writing desk and stalking to the door.

He hesitated as Adrian's voice rang out to him, his statement sounding like that of an impulsive child. The dhampire spoke quickly, as if merely responding to thoughts that popped up inside of his head before mulling them over.

"If… If somehow mother had returned, would you… be better… father?" Adrian asked, his voice fading until it was almost a whisper at the end of his question.

The question caught Vlad off guard. He faltered slightly, watching his son through narrowed eyes. The man's expression was innocent, a mixture of curiosity that could not be contained and the sickness that Vlad assumed had loosened his son's tongue.

The man felt a compulsion to hope, for a moment, before shaking his head. "She is gone, Adrian," he said in a low voice, almost a growl, "If she could be brought back I would have done it now."

With that the vampire left, the heavy door shutting with a dust muffled thumping sound, leaving Adrian once again the sole occupant of the room.

~~~*~~~

The library at Dracula's Castle was a wonderful place. One could easily get lost in the shelves upon shelves of history, science, mythology, and fiction. The knowledge contained in this library was both arcane and new, proven and unproven, dangerous and benign.

The danger in the library at Dracula's Castle was not a metaphor. Besides the plethora of monsters that usually littered the castle there were some creatures that inhabited the books themselves, jumping out from between the pages and attacking unwary would-be scholars. Furthermore were the monsters that were the books themselves, books that would follow those who traversed the library, snapping at them, pages forming into paper thin but razor sharp fangs.

The library in this castle was also huge, with only one ancient librarian serving the place. It was an elegant hall spanning three levels. The entrance seemed simplistic enough, a set of stone steps leading up to two huge wooden doors revealed the entrance hallway. The entrance hallway was a long hall set with elegant and simple mahogany bookshelves showcased various items from old pieces of jewelry that belonged to significant historical figures to occult items such as urns of rarely used powders and even shrunken heads set behind thick, clouded panes of glass.

The first hall opened up to an expansive great hall with three staircases. The large Persian rug that lay in the middle of the circular room was a deep red and the chandelier above hung with thousands of fragile crystals and was strewn with a multitude of lights very unlike fire. Little white lights that seemed to flicker with the drafts sent in by the three staircases but never quite went out, dimming only to shine at full light again a moment later.

The staircase to the left of the entry into the great hall led downward to many archival records and study areas; the middle one heading straight across to the main librarian's office, past row upon row of bookshelves on various topics; the upper levels, which were reached by the staircase to the right, consisted of personal records and collections. All three staircases led to an expansive hall that was open on both sides, allowing anyone walking across the stone pathways to see down to the ceiling of the catacombs and up to the floor of the personal chambers of the inhabitants of the castle. Looking to the sides one could see the marble and portrait galleries clearly. The stone walkways to each separate portion of the library were made of strong stone and railings raised two feet on each side, carved into designs that could only be caught clearly and fully when one was in the marble or portrait galleries, looking over at the library bridges.

It was on this middle bridge where a small, blonde girl clung to the railing about halfway across. The child in question was wearing a little yellow dress of fine wool with a thicker woollen overcoat on top of it. The dress had rips in places and the clothes were damp from the fog rolling just outside. The girl's fine, flaxen hair had fallen out of its braid and lay in tangles down her back and her porcelain pale face was stained with tear tracks.

But underneath all of this grime it was easy to tell that the girl would be really quite beautiful. Her face was round and perfectly balanced, large eyes wide with childlike innocence, small nose sprinkled with freckles and her mouth delicately formed. She was pale, as if moonlight itself had carved her, and though she was hurried and obviously frightened she walked with an easy grace.

The child crawled across the bridge cautiously, as if fearing that every step might be her last. Her eyes were focused straight ahead, though every few minutes she would look down, leading to another bout of clinging to the bridge, her eyes clamped tightly shut.

The girl eventually reached the other side, cautiously peering up at the bridges below and above her, careful not to venture too close to the edge of her own bridge. She shuddered, looking back across the path she'd taken to get there.

The girl had arrived quite suddenly at the castle. She had no idea where she was or who had taken her here, but one moment she was at home and the next found her waking on a cold stone floor in a large hall. Mist had roiled outside of the window, where a moon hung huge and full. There had been monsters there, too. Most had not cast her more than a cursory glance, if that, but there had been one that seemed more foolish than the rest. It looked like a man but, she reasoned, it couldn't have been one. This man was more like one from the horror stories she had heard, its putrefaction evident in its lack of skin and its smell, putrid and decaying. The creature had turned and stalked toward her in a shambling, rolling gait and the girl had fled to the huge wooden doors, somehow managing to wedge them open enough to slip inside, not even hearing the ripping noise her dress made as the door caught the corner of the material.

She could still hear the monster on the other side, making a gobbling noise that sounded too much like words attempting to be formed from a decayed throat for her liking. She had sat there, on the other side of the door, for some time, waiting to be let into the comforting room, the one across the hall with the angel and fountain. That room was one where the monsters seemed to avoid. But the monster who had its attentions on her would not leave the door and eventually the child had started to meekly cross farther into the hall where giant bookshelves lined the walls. If she stood on her tiptoes she could just peek in enough to see all manner of objects, most of them jewels, though with a shudder she thought of the skull she believed she'd caught a glimpse of on a shelf higher up.

It had taken her a while to choose which staircase to take, but eventually her young mind had reasoned that the staircase going down was too frightening, too dark, the one going upward was too mysterious, with tendrils of fog reaching down from the high windows, and that the middle staircase seemed the safest bet. So she'd crossed, only realising half way through how very large the bridge was, and how high up she was.

By the time she reached the other side she was exhausted, cold, and hungry. Most of all she was frightened, for herself, for her parents, even for her brother and his wife. She wanted to go home, wake up in a nice warm bed, pretend she was dizzy and sick and be fed bits of warmed bread and dried fruit by her mother. She quickly shook these thoughts out of her head and forced another few steps forward. The fact was, she realised, that she was not at home and no amount of wishing would change that. If she could only find somebody who could at least take her back to the village…

Her mind tried to block out the nasty voice that attempted to make itself heard. The voice that said that she had found beings, monstrous creatures, but that she had not seen another human. That she'd found everything but humans and normal creatures. She'd found a dog, sniffing at corners, but it had glowing red eyes and had disappeared into thin air. She'd also seen heads, just disembodied heads, flying overtop her in the hallway, not seeming bothered enough to acknowledge her existence. Even the one that had almost flown into her had not glanced back. She had reasoned that they must have been tricks, carnival tricks, like the ones she'd seen in the village… But they seemed so very real…

The rotting man had clinched the deal. She'd had enough of this place. She felt a stinging in her eyes and tried to blink back the tears that threatened to spill over, but as she thought of her family and her home they fell over, rolling down her cheeks and replacing her original tears with fresh, glistening tracks.

The girl urged herself to go on, tears rolling silently down her face despite her best efforts to take her mother's advice. Cry it out, breath deeply, then try to stop and think of other things. But there was no mother to hug while she cried it out, and breathing deep only worked until she tried to think of those other things, which is when the cycle started over and she realised how alone she was here.

Still she walked despondently, her steps automatic now, following straight ahead instead of branching off when she reached the end of the short hall and slipped past a small wrought iron gate into a huge room filled with shelves upon shelves of old tomes as far as the eye could see.

The bookshelves towered over her small, thin form and contained symbols that seemed familiar, even though she couldn't make out the words from her most basic education, while other symbols appeared completely unfamiliar. She walked for what seemed like forever, on and on. The chandeliers that lit her way bounced off of the gold lettering of some of the books, making them dazzle and causing her to gaze up in distraction more than once, but in the worry over her new environment the tears, at least, had stopped.

Abruptly the end of the rows and rows of books came into view and the child softly gasped and ducked as she saw an ancient figure sitting at a large librarian's desk at the end of the massive hall. He was not a monster or demon like the other things she'd seen, at least as far as she could tell. He had a long white beard and his hair receded to almost a monk's cut in the back, though it fell past his shoulders and out of sight down his back. A small pair of spectacles were perched upon his long nose and he seemed to be concentrating particularly hard on something, occasionally rubbing his spectacles along the plain brown robe he wore.

The girl watched for a second before a sudden compulsion struck her and she dived into the nearest junction between shelves of books, out of plain sight, before sneaking closer to the man. She had pondered whether or not he was human at all. She hadn't seen his eyes, she reasoned, the dog had seemed normal until she'd seen its red eyes…

A shiver ran down her back as she thought about the hallway of monsters she'd left behind. She had not encountered anything in this library except for some perfectly harmless artefacts and bookshelves that made her nervous by their sheer size. But she could feel eyes on her, like something was watching her.

A sudden noise behind her made her whirl around to face her 'attacker' even as she stifled a startled gasp. But there was nothing there- until she saw a book slowly sliding itself out of the bookshelf, as if pulled by an invisible hand. It was an old book, with a leather bound cover and fancy golden lettering. The child backed away, warily watching it pull itself entirely free and turn so that it seemed to be watching her.

Slowly the book opened its pages, white parting to reveal pin small but razor sharp teeth. One step behind the other the girl slowly backed down the aisle. She had once been told by her mother that a wild animal who was about to attack could be staved off by calm, slow, and deliberate movements… But this was no simple wild animal. The book flew at her and she lost all pretence of calm behaviour.

She flew past the books, many more who were now pulling themselves out of their shelves and screamed loudly, a shrill sound choked off by a sob, as she fell against the hard stone floor, feeling nipping at her arm. However, when she looked up, her body in a curled up position to protect her soft stomach tissues and her arms thrown up to protect her face, she saw the books slowly receding back into their shelves.

At the same time a voice smooth and old with age murmured, "What on earth…?"

The librarian had heard the scream and come to inspect what had happened. He thought it had sounded like a child's voice, but that couldn't be… Vlad did not generally take from children, and there hadn't been a child in the castle since Adrian Tepes was young.

He saw the books inspecting something, ready to nip at the creature who had fallen but upon seeing the librarian they slowly began to back away.

The sight that met his eyes when the books had disappeared had shocked him. He was used to seeing strange things in this castle, even used to his ears deceiving him. Though the last thing he would have expected to see was a little girl in what looked like tattered rags, her hands held up in front of her face as if warding off an attack.

"Who are you, child? What are you doing in this castle?" he asked sharply, though not unkindly.

"Please, don't hurt me," she pleaded breathlessly. "I don't know, I woke up here. I don't know why I'm-" she tried to explain in panicked breaths, her words coming in rapid succession.

He shook his head and held up one hand in a stopping motion, palm toward the child and fingers extended. "Silence, child," he insisted, cutting her off. Slowly she rolled over and braced her hands against the floor, pushing herself back up to a standing position. She was shaky on her feet but her breathing seemed to be calming at least somewhat and, with it, her hysteria.

The librarian hesitated before insisting that she come with him, taking her by one elbow to his back room and setting a blanket about her shoulders, handing her a cup of calming tea. She snatched at the tea gratefully, sipping it fervently and taking deep breaths to try and stop the shaking that wracked her body.

The back room was a small square room with gleaming wood-panelled walls, two soft, high-backed chairs, a small writing and personal study desk and a fireplace currently warmed only by a few embers burning brightly. The room was dimly lit only by the embers but the librarian could discern that the girl was young, not yet a teenager, by her voice, her lack of femininity, and her size. She was curled up in one of the high-backed chairs, clutching tightly at a cup of tea, tangled blonde strands falling into her face.

"Now, let's try this again," suggested the librarian in a soft voice. "Why are you in this castle? How did you come to be here?" He was hoping to get a rational answer from her this time. Dracula's Castle was not the sort of place that one just wandered into. Children were stringently warned about it, even adults feared it, and the girl would surely have been snatched up by some creature already if there was not some good reason for them to avoid her.

But she seemed normal enough. She looked human, from what he could discern, and by her fear she obviously was not a denizen of the castle, and she was not some poor, stupid creature. Scared, yes, but by her manner of speech she was not somehow deficient in brain activity.

She seemed to be ordering her thoughts before speaking this time and was much more deliberate and calm when she did speak. "I was… I don't know to be honest," she said, her voice quiet and speech slow, as if she were tasting every word on her tongue before speaking. "I do not know how I got here," she admitted, "I just… woke up. I was at home, and… all of a sudden I woke up in the hallway in front of the library. What is this place, sir?" she asked, whispering the last few words.

The librarian was completely taken aback by this question, it should have been obvious! Fearing the worst reaction he said, "You're in Castlevania, child. Castle Dracula." But there was no outburst, no screaming, no crying. He saw her lips purse slightly and all she uttered was "…oh. I've never heard of Dracula. Are we still in Romania?"

The old man was dumbstruck. His mouth parted slightly, as if in a vain attempt to formulate a response, "Yes, we are, but-"

"Near Cordova Town?" she interrupted, "because that's where I'm from…"

His eyes widened- Castle Dracula overlooked Cordova Town. There was no way that she could have been oblivious to this place! She interrupted his intake of breath that was going to go toward efforts of explaining this to the child when she asked, "And those were real monsters?"

Finally, something they were on the same page regarding. The old man moved to the small writing desk and picked up a candle, reaching into the embers of the fireplace until the wick caught the fire, adding some light into the room so he could at least get a good look at the girl.

"Yes, they were real monsters," he began, stopping and squinting in the light to get a closer look at the girl. There was something about her, something unusual that had caught his eye in the bright ring of light cast by the candle. But it couldn't be, he reasoned, there wasn't a possible way…

Her face was impossibly pale, perfectly formed and without blemish, as if she were a carefully crafted porcelain doll. She had perfectly sculpted lips, high cheekbones that were the trait of aristocratic blood, a small nose just beginning to show an aquiline form as she began to shed some childhood traits with age, though she was still young enough to have a smooth, rounded face and wide, innocent eyes. Her eyes were what had caught the light, shining as bright as the embers in the fireplace they were an intense golden through her long, dark lashes. A golden that reminded the librarian of an amber caught in the light. His eyes traveled down to her paraffin coloured skin, where not even a slight blush or pink lips hinted at blood flowing through the child's veins. Her appearance, tangled hair and tattered clothes, had put him off balance for an instant. But who would this girl be? It was apparent to him now that she was not human.

"What did you say your name was, child?" he breathed, watching the way those intense eyes swirled with a sudden uncertainty bordering on fear.

"I…" she began, chewing tentatively on her bottom lip, "I don't think I said, sir." That brief moment when she chewed on her bottom lip was the moment he confirmed the truth. When he saw small fangs flash from the corner of her mouth. The girl was a dhampire, the halfbred child of a human and a vampire. But the mystery still remained- how did she get into the castle? Who was she?

She did not like the way he was looking at her. She looked back down at the tea swirling in her cup before looking back up at him. "My name is Valeria Tepes."