Chapter 9:
"That's all of them, I think."
Laila stood over a rather large stack of dusty books, both new and ancient. It had taken her at least a week and a half to look through the entire library, and even then she still wasn't sure if she had gotten everything she needed. During her search, she gathered as many books on vampires as she could, fiction and non. Most of the books were in Romanian, others in various European languages she didn't know how to read, and a few were in English (which she was very grateful for). She was about to crack open a rather old looking English copy of Bram Stoker's Dracula when she heard a small bell begin to toll.
Laila sighed as the clock in the corner chimed 5 o'clock. She had to start getting ready for dinner. The Count had more or less left her alone since he fed from her that one night, much to her relief. If she were honest with herself, she would admit that he scared her, but her stubborn sense of pride only let her think he intimidated her because of his supernatural qualities.
Not only did she fear him, though; she borderline hated the man for keeping her here like a prisoner. It was true that she came here to lie low and drop off the map for a while, but there was a difference between doing it willingly and being held against your will. Not that she could go anywhere. Every time the snow melted enough for her to even think of leaving, another blizzard would blow through and block off the entrance ways. This is what I get for coming up on a mountain in the middle of winter, she would tell herself every time it snowed.
So for the past week and a half she had had nothing better to do than get lost in the castle and look through the library for information on her captor's species.
When she made her way down to dinner at 6 o'clock, she wasn't surprised at all to see the Count waiting for her. What did surprise her, however, was when he remained in his seat across from her instead of excusing himself like he had been doing.
"I found a very interesting article online today," he commented casually.
Laila's fork paused midway to her mouth out of shock and she looked at him in surprise. "You own a computer?" She had so much trouble picturing him using anything more modern than a candlestick phone, let alone a computer. He just seemed too old-fashioned for it.
The vampire grimaced at her, obviously not thrilled with her reaction.
"Of course I own a computer," he said irritatedly. "How else am I supposed to keep track of my finances in this day and age?"
A brief, tense moment passed between them before Laila asked, "What was this article you found about?"
The Count's demeanor changed instantly from frustrated and irritated to calm, aloof, and almost smug.
"It seems the officials at Scotland Yard have stumbled upon a mass grave in a moor in southern Scotland," he continued coolly, topping off Laila's glass of white wine. "They've found bits and bones of at least 30 women, all roughly around the same age."
Laila paused, stiff for a moment and then continued to eat her dinner. "The work of someone you know?"
The smugness disappeared from the vampire's manner and he became angry and defensive. "No one I am acquainted with would brutally tear apart people," he growled. His next sentence, however, carried a small tone of sadness to it. "Only a truly disturbed individual would do something like that to a woman."
Another tense moment passed between the two. Laila kept her head bowed towards her dinner plate, picking at the little food that was left. She glanced up at the vampire every few seconds and noticed that he seemed distant and detached - like he was lost in some ancient memory. "Have they caught whoever is responsible for the murders?"
"Give them time, dear," the Count replied, snapping out of his trance and eying her with a look of sly knowing. "They'll catch whoever's responsible.
"It's strange, though," he continued in a pondering tone, "All of the women they've identified so far look surprisingly similar and oddly familiar to me."
"I don't feel very well," Laila said abruptly, getting up from the table. "I'm going to lay down for a while."
"One moment," the Count said, rising from his seat and catching her by the wrist. She turned to inquire as to what he wanted, but he had already rolled up her sleeve and was kissing her wrist affectionately. Laila tried to pull away, but he pulled her to him with his free arm, trapping her against his body. The Count locked eyes with her and smirked before closing them and biting into her wrist. Laila squirmed and made small groans of pain and protest, but dared not try and pull her hand away from his face.
When he released her a few moments later, he pressed a handkerchief to her wrist and, releasing her from his grasp, said breathless and flushed, "Now you may go."
Laila turned and fled to her room, shutting and locking the door, not emerging until dawn.
_._._._._._._._._
Hot damn, we're getting to the plot! ...Kind of. Looks like someone's got a secret. Thanks for being so patient guys. I've been having health and school issues. And remember, reviews and constructive criticism keep me going. :) Cheers!
