Chapter Eight: What's Wrong With Me?
He was a beautiful man…in her eyes. His skin was strikingly alabaster against his dark clothing and hair, giving him a nearly porcelain appearance. His face was distinguished and chiseled in a lovely way. Thin lips were parted ever so slightly, giving his features the only hint of innocence. Dark eyebrows rested above his closed eyes, oddly pushed together with stress. Long, lean arms were tossed over his body in an exhausted manner, leaving one hand lamely sprawled out over his vested chest, which showed no sign of breath. His fingers were long and graceful…perfect fingers for racing up and down the keys of a piano or teasing the strings of a violin.
However, Rawnies hand gripped the side of the wooden box tightly and her pupils seemed to shrink into nonexistence as her mind was assaulted with whispers and faded images. Her free hand moved from its place at her side and drifted over the profile of the unconscious villain. The compulsion to run her trembling fingers through his slick, dusky hair was nearly insanely ineluctable. Fine threads of pure obsidian slipped through her hand like liquid eventide, leaving her hand to clench with a foreign lust for more physical interaction with this dark being.
It was difficult to watch her opposite hand release the coffin and anxiously remove the glove from her right extremity before it moved down the counts face, his angular shoulder, and to his unmoving chest where his hand remained. Her face contorted into a look of helplessness when her bruised and hardened flesh met with his cool, quiet fingers. Behind the mumbles and pictures in her clouded mind, thoughts were formed and came to her attention…though, they were not hers. Thoughts that told her how it felt to have those balletic fingers waltz up and down the bare skin of her back, to have his fingertips skim down the length of her neck. Her mind conjured up random feelings of his hand shifting through her hair, his breath puffing out onto the nape of her bent neck, his teeth nipping at her jaw line…
"Jesus Christ," Rawnie spat out as her body lurched away from the box, hands tossed back as far as she could manage, and eyes rolling restlessly behind her eyelids which had slammed shut. What had crept into her mind to bring around these thoughts?
An immediate answer was given to her. A deep throbbing emitted from her shoulder sending her body buckling and then crumbling to the floor. The loosely held pistol in her hand was sent sliding across the floor and collided with a pile of rodent carcasses. A trembling hand yanked away the cloth covering the worn scar to reveal it to the dim light. The previously dead flesh was now a healthy crimson tone and pounding wildly like a second heart, pumping its own blood through her system. Her lungs worked unsparingly as the gypsy crawled over the floor back toward the coffin, the healthy color drained from her face.
Dragging herself up with the assistance of the wooden box, strangled heaves echoed through the chamber. With her legs firmly placed beneath her, Rawnie was able to right her posture with the hands still fastened onto the vampires resting place and the nape of her neck tightly. Muscles strained sending her head back, eyes rolling up toward the ceiling and mouth formed into a painful snarl.
It was then that the dull brown orbs were covered by trembling eyelids as if some horrific sight was being hidden. The Queens mind reeled, trying desperately to become accustom to this strange sensation that was overwhelming her body with every beat of her panicked heart. Ideas were thought up, but the change her body seemed to be going through did not allow the thoughts to continue further. Throb, after throb, a cold, sharp pang spread through her already unstable body. It was as if something was clawing its way through her arms, down her legs, and into her mind.
This overreaction was made literal when her eyes were shoved open just in time to reveal the new tint they had acquired. Instead of the placid chocolate that had previously looked upon the world with a dull interest, there was now two shockingly green oculars glaring up toward the heavens with a heavy coat of infuriation.
"My love…" the woman's voice croaked out, now formed into an oddly familiar silky voice that seemed to twist its way around her neck with a dangerous, yet soothing fashion.
The moment the words were spoken, the creature laying unconscious in the coffin jerked to life for a brief moment, his eyes wide with some untamed look, and hands gripping the sides of his casket bringing the wood to splinter under pressure of his strength. Rawnies own hand moved to latch onto the vest her was adorned with, her head rolling back down, the emerald gleam still fresh in her gaze.
If there had been a reason for his sudden awakening it remained unknown, for as quickly as his body sprang to life, it once again slipped back into hibernation, his eyes collapsing shut, and hands falling from the sides of his wooden prison. The woman sunk downward, her hand still holding fast to his clothing. Carefully balancing on the balls of her feet, Rawnie stared out in front of her at the cold stone wall, her mouth opening and closing randomly as the scorching pain that enveloped her body retreated back to the red source on her collar, and the sharp emerald slipped away from her eyes leaving behind nothing but a very confused, very tired, and very sweaty shell of a female.
"Rawnie!" a voice screamed from outside of the dank room, closely followed by a trotting Charlie and running Carl. Turning about to face them quickly, the elder of the three twisted her feet together bringing her body to stumble forward again. However, the uneasy state in which the two males were in did little to help them recognize this.
"W-What are you doing up here?" she finally choked out, returning to her upright stance and glaring over at the two hovering in the doorway, "I told you to stay with Van Helsing."
"He said that we were more trouble than we were worth, and that we bring more casualties than help," Charlie said and crossed his large arms over his chest in a hurt manner. Carl only nodded beside him and pulled his little hat further down over his messed hair.
"He sure is a caring individual," Rawnie grumbled and rolled her now chestnut eyes before wiping her head free of any salty perspiration that may have seeped through her tingling skin.
"Yes, well…the only thing we were capable of doing was checking the spider web production under the rubble, and…" the little friar spoke up as he cautiously walked about the room avoiding the rubble before his speech was cut short when the large, wooden box came to his attention. His hands immediately went into timid mode and clasped together in front of his abdomen, eyes moving back and forth between the woman and the box. Charlie on the other hand was far too busy fixing his now filthy clothing and making sure his hair was in proper place.
"Um, excuse me, Ms. Valerious…"
"Rawnie."
"Yes…Rawnie. What, may I ask, is inside of that…um…"
"Coffin?"
"Coffin? Oh is that was it is? I simply thought it was a moving crate of some kind…GOOD GOD!" Carl shrieked when the contents of the 'crate' met with his eyes. Falling backwards and scooting across the dirty floor, the poor fellow slammed into the far wall and remained in a sitting position, hands grasping for anything sharp around him.
"Not what you expected?" she grinned and stepped away from the box calmly.
"Well of course not!"
"What is it?" Charlie asked from the other side of the room, sure confusion on his handsome features. Before Rawnie could open her mouth to answer, Carl stood up quickly and shot a finger at the man in the box.
"The son of the Devil! The most despicable, vile, bloodthirsty creature to ever roam these lands! He's cruel, evil, and…mean! He is Dracula, my dear Charles!"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," the gypsy chuckled and patted the holy man on the shoulder, "Calm down and climb off of your little soapbox, Carl."
The red faced friar glanced back and forth between the other male in the room and the Valerious at his side. Clearing his throat in a nearly embarrassed tone, he gave a small nod and held his hands behind his back.
"He's asleep," Rawnie added, "and I don't think he's waking up anytime soon."
"What gives you that idea?" Charlie questioned and peeked over the side of the coffin.
"Because I made enough noise earlier to wake up a bear in hibernation."
"What happened?"
"Don't bother with it Charlie. Now, both of you help me get this lid on," the woman replied and began heaving up the nearly broken lid to the box by the doorway. Even with her back facing the men, she could sense their hesitation and barked out a quick, "Now."
Immediately the two skittered off to work and helped haul the bulky wood from the floor and shuffled towards the coffin. It was unnerving for even the two who were unfamiliar with the wrath of the vampire to stare at his face as the lid was shoved down over the opening and slip the locks into place tightly. The moment the clatter was over with and the room was once again filled with silence, the three stared at each other from across the box, hands still fixed on the lid as if they expected the count to rise up out from his prison and wreak havoc upon them. However, nothing but an unforgiving silence followed.
"Alright," Rawnie sighed out.
"Alright," both Charlie and Carl mumbled in unison.
"Now, get him downstairs."
"WHAT?"
"We're going to take him home and lock him up in the dungeons until we figure all this out," the woman explained and went on when she received nothing but a blank, shocked stare from both, "If we leave him, he'll only come after me again. If we bring him, we'll be able to control that, now won't we?"
"Well, yes, but…" Carl stuttered briefly before shaking his head and stepping away from the box, "But he's Dracula."
"Glad that you caught onto that, Carl, now help Charles get him downstairs."
"How do you propose we do that?" the said peasant piped up, "drag him behind the horses?"
"No," the strange queen grunted and sat her hands firmly on her hips, "drag him between the horses. We don't need the townspeople to see a coffin being pulled through the streets. Latch rope to the handles and tie them onto your saddles."
"But won't that be awfully rough on the fellow?"
"I shot nearly ten bullets into him on the way to Rome, I don't think some jolting around in a coffin is going to bother him. Besides, he's asleep. He probably won't feel a thing."
"What if the rope breaks and the coffin falls?"
"The go to plan B and just drag him as you first implied."
"How do we deal with Van Helsing?" Charlie shot another question in her direction while examining the sides of the box. Carl only stared with his mouth agape at the two.
"I saw a side entrance on my way up here, take him through there. Van Helsing doesn't need to know about this yet. The boy has already dealt with a large serpent today, he doesn't need a bat as well."
"Fine, fine," the sophisticate nodded and wrapped his hands around the handles on his side while looking over toward the friar, "Well?"
"Well?" Carl blurted out, "Well, are you two completely out of your minds! This is Count Vladislaus Dragulia! The scourge of your family Ms. Valerious-"
"Rawnie."
"RAWNIE. Responsible for the death of your ancestors, including your father and brother! How can you even think of taking him to your home?" he concluded with a near helpless look on his face, his fingers pointed down toward the coffin where the vampire rested.
"Because at my home I can control him from killing me as well, Carl, now please, help Charlie with the bloodthirsty vampire while I go and tell Van Helsing that his playtime is over," the woman answered with a twisted look on her face before she exited the room, leaving the two men to stare in terror at the coffin in their hands containing the creature that would be in their possession for the next hour or so.
"How in the world did you manage to loose your boot?"
"You have asked that five times, Ms. Val-"
"Rawnie."
"You have asked that five times, Rawnie, and the answer is the same. I don't know," Van Helsing spat out as the two trotted on for town, the female snickering at the males bare foot.
"How could you not know? You were there weren't you?"
"Yes, but-" he stopped and flapped a dismissive hand her way, blowing out an irritated puff of air, "Forget it."
The Valerious woman gave a few closed lipped chuckles before the two entered the boundaries of Vaseria. After leaving the two men behind with the coffin full of vampire, Rawnie had found Van Helsing, or Gabriel as she had started to call him regularly, up to his eyeballs in trouble. Though the beast had been done away with and its corpse was flopped over the floor messily, the Roman man was left to only be pinned under the dead weight of the hydras massive tail. Seeing it that he was casually lying with his hands crossed under his head and legs locked at the ankles, Rawnie was fairly certain that the man figured someone would eventually come along.
One or two bystanders along side the muddy road were caught snickering at the exposed foot of the Roman warrior, which earned them a deadly glare and an uncomfortable expression as well. On the other side of the road, Rawnie was staring wide-eyed at the tracks in the mud. Two uneven lines of horse prints and the heavy dip in the middle where something had obviously been dragged. She had to hold back the pathetic urge to slap her hand over her face. Lovely. To add to the worry inside her mind, a small group of older women out of the corner of her eye gossiped back and forth about a, 'peculiar box being hauled through town by that mouse like friar and that wide brute'. A snort was brought from the gypsy at the word 'brute' being connected to Charlie. That was simply not done.
"Ms. V-"
"Rawnie."
"Rawnie…you never told me if you came across anything. Any signs of vampires, witches, or anything else in between?"
She opened her mouth once then closed it back up tightly. Lifting herself from her saddle momentarily to situate her sudden nervous body, a wince crossed her countenance. Something resting at her waist dug painfully into her skin, saving her from answering the loaded question right away. Gritting her teeth and yanking the object from the small baggy resting at her hip, Rawnie bit her lip. It was the silver hair accessory she had discovered in the 'shrine room', as she had decided to dub it as. After rolling it around slowly in her fingers, she sealed it up inside the pouch once more and became aware that Van Helsings hard eyes were studying her.
"No…no, I don't think I did," she started in a surprisingly casual voice, "There was nothing overly dangerous that I could see."
"Really?" the man mumbled and tilted his head upward slightly so he was looking down his fine nose at the woman, "Strange. You would think there would be something."
"Yes, one would think so."
"Yes, they would."
"Sure would."
"Mmhmm," Gabriel quirked a brow instantly.
"What?"
"What, what?"
"God…"
"You shouldn't take his name in vain."
"Don't start preaching to me, Gabriel Van Helsing," Rawnie sneered before digging her heels into the side of her stubborn horse, leaving behind the grinning man.
"Why aren't you eating, Gabriel?"
"Why aren't you eating, Ms. Val-Rawnie?"
"I'm eating, I just like to pace myself," the woman answered and prodded the plate of food in front of her. Glancing up and down the long dining room table in the Valerious Manor at the leather clad man, she tapped her fork on the good china.
"I'm just not hungry," the man answered, giving his excuse with the same uneasy look. A few minutes passed in utter silence before he piped up again, "Where are Charlie and Carl?"
At this, Rawnie hesitated and forced herself not to glance behind her in the direction she knew the entrance to the lower levels of the house was.
"Sleeping I believe," she spat out and popped a bite of beef into her mouth, "They had a stressful day."
"Of course," Van Helsing nodded and jabbed a spoon into his potato's.
This uncomfortable aura had been following the two ever since they had entered the city gates. Gabriel knew that the Transylvanian knew something about what was in that castle, and he knew that she would be wanting to question why he had never said anything about his first name. He always found that women found that suspicious.
Rawnie on the other hand was silent because she knew that Van Helsing knew that she knew something. She had to keep going over the reason…it confused her as well. The moment she walked into her new home, she swore that she could hear the animal cries of the vampire below. It would have concerned her that Charlie and Carl hadn't yet returned from their secret mission, but the sight of their heads peeking around the doorway earlier and the reassuring nods that they sent put her at ease.
Van Helsing tapped his fingers on the shiny wood of the table a few odd times and stared down at the lady of the manor. He wasn't shocked to see her doing the same. And when he quickly stood from his chair, it wasn't a surprise that she did the same.
"Where are you going?" the both asked in unison.
"The bar," they replied.
"Why?" again, together.
A pause.
A glare.
A gnash of teeth.
A tap of fingertips.
A glass shattering howl from the basement.
"Rawnie."
"Gabriel."
In a flash, both man and woman were racing through the doorway, each desperately trying to get in front of the other. Grunts and shrieks of protest raged on and the howling and roaring coming from below continued with a fierce strength. In tables were pushed aside, vases knocked over, and pictures flew from the walls when bodies made impact with them. The clean, shimmering floors were scuffed as boots slid around corner after corner, the bone chilling sounds growing louder and louder by each footfall. The double doors to the lower levels were sent banging open by Gabriel's strong arms, while the seven steps were easily conquered by Rawnie's nimbleness. Carl and Charlie came dashing down the stone basement hall toward the two racers, yelling something incoherent.
As the two screamers were pushed aside, the older people twisted around each other as another corner turned into their direction. One more larger flight of stairs dropped down sharply, leaving the man to whisk down them quickly and the woman to leap down three steps at a time. This stone corridor was ended by a large, wooden door which seemed to be shaking dangerously on its hinges. Inside the room, another screaming sound emitted, bringing the two pairs of legs to kick into overdrive.
"Van Helsing, stay away!" Rawnie screamed through her gasps.
"What did you do, Ms. Valerious?" he replied loudly as his ungloved hand reached out prematurely for the steel door handle which he was quickly approaching.
"What needs to be done!" the woman threw a hand out, knocking the Romans from the air. He was NOT going to release the vampire.
Again, the two acted in unison as they met with the door roughly and shoved it open together. However, it was Rawnie who made it through the entrance first and blocked the path of the bulky man.
"Shit," was the first word out of Gabriel's mouth, and a surprised look came over the Queens. After all, it was the first time she had heard Van Helsing actually speak a superior curse word. Though she could hardly blame him.
Chains strained and clattered recklessly as the creature launched itself over and over from the wall. His massive legs and arms were working tirelessly at the strong bolts holding his bonds into place. Wings were spread across the room scratching the walls and ceiling painfully, bringing blood up through the gray skin. The clamps placed over his limbs and neck bit into his flesh as well and noticeable spots of blood dripped to the floor. His strength may have been impressive, but the half dozen chains holding him in place put up a defense that was impenetrable.
When the large door of the room banged against the outer wall announcing the arrival of someone in the makeshift prison, the struggling came to a shockingly abrupt halt and the vampires head moved up from its downward position. His long inky hair masked most of his face, but the pounding eyes peered out at them without struggle. Rawnie could feel Van Helsing tense up behind her, knowing of his experience with this…monster. But, to his surprise, it wasn't him that the eyes automatically fixed on.
Gabriel cautiously looked over at Rawnie, following the intense stare of the ancient villain. The woman's face was slack and her mouth open a fraction as if breath were hard to come by. Her usual hard gaze was now that of a doll as she looked back at the now docile beast not three yards away from her.
"Rawnie…" the warrior mumbled and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. Though her body felt no sign of the strangeness that had overcome her, the woman's words told all that the Roman was thinking.
"What's wrong with me?"
REEEEEVIIIIIEEEEWWWWW! Please...
