ch 10
Several minutes passed, the vampire rocketing about the room frantically, accumulating burns and scrapes as the party of humans watched through the barred windows. The pair of lanterns lit the room dimly but clearly until the vampire knocked one over. The lantern didn't break, but it rolled across the floor, the loud and hollow rattle and bang as the metal lid and base crossed the stone driving the vampire into a renewed frenzy, pained wails increasing as it scrambled about the room.
"He's still overly sensitive to the noise." Abraham's whisper reached Seward's ears, and the man nodded his agreement, astonished eyes fixed on the vampire. The rolling lantern, with its flickering wick, came to rest on the spilled oil from the lantern Abraham had dropped. With a "whoosh" the oil caught, and the flames flared up, lighting the room to a nearly-daylight brightness.
The vampire reacted with even more panic, though all the watching humans would have happily sworn this was not possible. Ignoring the terrible burns it caused, screaming, the vampire lunged at the walls, scrambling and scratching them in desperation. Mina winced, pointing out the great streaks of blood as the vampire tore his fingers apart in his fit of fear and agony. As he turned from that wall, smoke rose from the tattered and broken remains of his fingers and bloody tears leaked from his tightly clenched eyes.
"And overly light-sensitive, too." Dracula had found the inner door, and it slammed on its sturdy hinges as the vampire yanked and tore at it, hands burning and bleeding. But the door had been made to withstand such abuse, and while the others backed away, Abraham simply stood and watched the door, frowning.
The vampire shouldn't be able to attempt an escape; the bands were meant to prevent that. As the vampire wailed and moved on to another wall, brightly lit by the fire, Abraham considered this.
The bonds weren't meant to damage the vampire without it deliberately disobeying. The only thing it could not do, whether it wanted to or not, was attack Abraham. Deliberate disobedience would result in pain...but the vampire had never been told it had to stay in the room. And so his attempts to leave the room weren't causing the expected punishment to be inflicted. The wards around the door were pushing it away and burning the beast, but the collar and light shackles were inactive.
Worrisome, that his new prize would be out of his control until it was able to comprehend the restrictions and requirements Abraham forced on it. It was an excellent thing, Abraham mused, that he'd made that room so very thoroughly reinforced against the vampire, or they could have a crazed bloodsucker loose in the basement! He'd like to throw some sand on the oil and put out the flames, but there was far too great a risk that the vampire would escape or that Abraham himself would be injured.
And so he simply stood in the hallway, watching the flames burn lower as the oil was consumed. It was several minutes before the vampire's frantic racing about slowed down, becoming more of a blind stumble, and several more minutes before it tripped over its coffin. As the humans watched, rapt, the vampire crouched by its coffin, wails and shrieks changing to confused and miserable moans. The silvered floor was scorching a foot, the bone gleaming through the tattered and bloody flesh, and after a moment the vampire registered that this was occurring. It rocked back a bit, shuffling about, finding a position where it could crouch braced against the coffin while not touching the walls or the silver lines on the floor.
It quieted further, offering nothing more than little gasps of pain. The battered, burned, bloody hands were lifted and buried in its hair as the vampire began to rock blindly to and fro, moaning and keening to itself in soft misery, huddled against the coffin. The flames died lower, leaving only a dim blue flicker and the remaining lamp to light the room as the curious and horrified humans watched the pathetic display.
It was Mina who realized how poor the air had become. The basement was enormous, but the air was old and stale. The flames had rapidly used up an enormous quantity of the breathable air, and smoke was clinging to the ceiling of the vampire's chamber and curling into the hallway. Her husband had begun to cough, and the hacking noise was causing the vampire to keen louder. The party stumbled through the thickening smoke and up the stairs, leaving the vampire along in the dim smokey basement.
x x x x x
Sitting in Abraham's study, still a bit shocked at the vampire's behavior, they discussed what had occurred and what it meant.
"He didn't attack me." Abraham was very firm on this. "The bonds I put on him would absolutely have damaged him if he'd done so; he was threatening." A small smirk. "In fact, I suspect he was completely bluffing and already frightened." A few minutes passed while the others considered this, then Mina asked why the vampire had done so.
"Frightened. And, thinking he was more coherent than he was and not being aware that he was simply bluffing, I used this on him." The silvered riding crop landed on the table with a muffled thud as the heavy metal tip smacked down, then rolled slightly as they watched it. "I want him under my control and obedient as quickly as possible. He threatened me, I punished him." A chuckle. "It wasn't exactly the response I'd expected, I'll give him that!"
Seward spoke up then as well. "He's still being overwhelmed by the noise and light, though he's recovered far better than the human patients did. I believe we ought to leave him be. It's going to take him some time to recover himself, and the light and smoke plus the physical damage are more than enough stimulation!" A sigh, as he pondered his unusual "patient." "You need to take it slowly with him. Remember, the men were not only suffering physically as they adjusted to stimulation, but their minds are broken. Even after he can handle the visual and aural stimuli, he might remain a moron."
The conversation wound on a bit more, as the shock of the vampire's panicky behavior wore off. Eventually, the others went to their beds, leaving Abraham alone in his office. He simply stared at the wall, thinking. Yes, the vampire should be left alone to recover. But was it healing? There was nearly a gallon of blood waiting for it in the icebox. The vampire was his responsibility, and while he'd willingly punish it, his mind kept pressing at him the images of the bloody vampire, bones showing through the skin of the feet, the bloody and glistening wrecks of its hands, the piteous, shivering, huddled wretch they'd left behind. And the smoke, too...the vampire didn't need to breath, it hadn't suffocated in its coffin despite weeks of confinement, but it was certainly taking in air to make its cries and noises. What was the effect of the smokey air on the beast?
Pondering, he waited, hearing everyone else going to their beds, then silence fill the house as he sipped his drink and considered. He wrote down his notes and thoughts and observations, reading and rereading them as he debated and considered again.
Finally, he rose, heading to the basement with a brief detour to pick up the containers of blood.
X X X X X
The basement door still stood, propped open, fresh air slowly displacing the clouded smokey fog of the lower level. Over the last few hours, the smoke had clearly settled substantially. The air was slightly dimmed by it, but Abraham was relieved to see that the lantern he carried cut a bright swath through the dark. He also carried a few small candles, ones that were made of a dense, heavy wax and should burn for hours, well into morning. Dimmer than the lantern, but still able to provide some light for the vampire. Abraham was loathe to drop the beast back into pitch blackness, but after having two lanterns broken, he was equally loathe to have any more destroyed. But a candle should help the vampire become accustomed to light without the strain of the bright flames of a lantern. And candles didn't shatter and scatter glass across the floor, or spill oil, either.
Pausing outside the door, Abraham peered through the high, narrow windows. The lantern in the room had gone completely out with no one to adjust the wick or replenish the fuel. The vampire was soundless, invisible in the dark. The first candle was placed in a window and lit, and Abraham was able to peer into the cell and see the faint outline of his beast.
He was probably a fool for taking on the vampire with no one else around, but this was his prize, and he wanted his own time to gloat over it and enjoy it in private. The vampire was so terrified, and the room so secure, and the bonds should be effective...Abraham was normally very brave, and this knowledge had him nearly fearless. And so, he opened the hall door, locking it behind him, then opened the inner door...leaving himself exposed to the vampire, alone, with no backup, no protection, and only the dim light of a single candle and the low wick of his lantern.
And, as he'd expected, the vampire had remained where they'd left him. As Abraham watched, he continued to rock slowly back and forth, hunched over, hands (or, really, their remnants) buried in his hair, face completely hidden from view. He'd stopped crying at some point, and as Abraham approached slowly, he could hear the faint rasp, rasp, rasp as the vampire's movement caused it to brush gently across the side of the coffin. The vampire looked terrible. The wounds had healed over, but the burn marks still looked raw, and the feet were a bloody mess smeared over raw, pink scars. The hands, what little he could see through the tangled gray hair, were still shattered though skin now covered the bones.
It was an entirely pitiable scene. Even remembering the vicious, cruel, horrible atrocities the monster had committed, Abraham couldn't help but feel a trace of pity. Was that creature gone, replaced by a mindless, drooling husk? He crouched down by the vampire, getting no response, no recognition. Placing the bottles on the floor caused them to clink inside the small wire basket, and the vampire gave a head-to-toe jerk, thudding against the coffin. Even so, the head remained bowed, and after a brief pause, the rocking resumed. The lantern followed, its slight metallic click on the floor causing a brief jerk but no stopping of the steady rocking.
"Definitely overreactive to sound." Abraham mused a bit, watching the beast, then pulled out a bottle and removed the lid. Taking a deep breath, he scooted closer to the monster, catching its head as it rocked back, and in one swift move lifting it up to reveal the haggard face, then pressing the bottle to the slack mouth.
x x x x x x
Blood. There was blood again. And pain, so much pain. Noise, there had been noise, and light...and there was confusion. He remembered the man, and the threat, and the stinging, welting, burning pain on his face. And then burning, everywhere, unable to escape it, unable to see, unable to make sense of what had happened, where he was. The comfort of his coffin, though he couldn't bring himself to climb inside it again, but only to crouch beside it.
And then time had passed. His sense of time was normally incredibly precise and accurate, and now he could only sense that time had passed. Minutes, hours...probably not days. Maybe a day? But there was blood, and as he swallowed his thoughts cleared. Healing, he was healing. As the agony receded, his mind cleared, the fog of pain slowly lifting. Oh, hungry, he was so hungry! Instead of mindless swallowing, he found himself sucking at the bottle, nearly crying in loss when his efforts resulted in nothing, and the bottle was removed. How did he know it was a bottle? It made sense, he decided...cold, smooth surface, rounded, containing so much blood. Perhaps a large, thin glass, most likely a bottle. And gone.
Before he could cry his loss, it pressed back against his lips, and he drank again. The cold blood hit his stomach, almost painful in its chill, so unlike the hot, fresh, spicey blood of a live human, but still blood, still food. No longer so hungry, stomach nearly full, he slowed his drinking from desperate gulping to a more considered, steady pace. A pause, while his stomach moved the nutrients into his body, making room for another thoughtful swallow. When the bottle emptied, he was still somewhat peckish, but not starved, no longer mindless. More would be nice...but he'd had enough.
Licking his lips, swallowing the last traces from his mouth, he considered. He was almost too frightened to do this, but he also needed to know, to see...and so, head tilted up, he cautiously opened his eyes, peering up to see the humans. Oh, he hoped they would not hurt him again. A shudder. So much pain already, so sudden, so confusing. Please, no more...a soft whimpering pleading whine...and then his eyes came into focus.
And looming mere inches from him was the man who'd broken him. Abraham Van Helsing. Smirking down at him as he found himself cowering away from the human who'd outthought him, out-fought him, and then thoroughly, remorselessly, and ruthlessly broken him.
x x x x x x x
Red eyes blinked up at him, squinting slightly in the lantern light, dazed. The gaze sharpened, focusing in on his face, and then the vampire tensed in fear. Abraham smirked in pleasure; the vampire clearly had some sort of mind left, had recognized him and reacted with fear. Excellent. It wasn't running away, though it was leaning away from him, watching him warily as the various injuries slowly healed further. The hands, still tangled in the hair but now limp and relaxed, were healing slowly. Hard to see, yes, but the bones were slowly shifting about. Vampire healing was astonishing, and Abraham looked forward to learning just how the bones were shifted into the correct position. The muscles certainly weren't doing it; some of those bone fragments had no muscle attached to them. Curious, he reached for the hand to inspect it more closely, and as soon as he moved...the vampire's eyes slammed shut and the hands clenched. It must have been very painful, but they curled up in the hair anyways. The head dipped down a bit, and the vampire moaned softly in his fear.
So much fear. Abraham wasn't certain just why the vampire thought him so very terrible, but then again, the vampire had undoubtedly been horrifically cruel to any prisoners he'd taken. And now that he was a prisoner, Dracula was likely fearing the very worst. Touching him would likely send him back into a hysterical fit, and so Abraham pushed his curiousity back down and leaned away from the vampire. Time to explain the situation to his new possession.
"You are no longer Dracula, no longer powerful and free. You are property, to do with as I please. At best, you may earn a place as my servant. For now, you are a thing, a prize, and one I intend to study." He stopped, watching the vampire for any signs of comprehension. The creature had startled when he began to speak, but now only stared at him with worried red eyes. And not a hint of understanding. No anger, no reaction... "Vampire, do you know who I am?" No response. "Do you know where you are?" The same unchanging, scared look. "Can you understand me?" Nothing, and then, just as Abraham was ready to rise and return to his own rooms...the vampire nodded. Slow, and small, but an acknowledgment all the same.
So, his new experimental subject DID understand him, wasn't completely mindless. Abraham didn't even try to control the grin at the realization that the vampire was still usable, hadn't been destroyed. "Excellent. The rules are simple for now. You are to obey me. When I ask you questions, you answer them. When you are given orders, you follow them. You may not leave this room without permission. You are my possession, you no longer have any say in what happens to you or what I chose to do with you. You are not to attack any humans without permission, you are not to attempt to frighten anyone. Not even in self defense. You have no rights. For now, you may sleep in your coffin and will be fed regularly. If I choose, this will change." A pause, while Abraham watched the vampire's face. There was confusion there, and the eyes were no longer clearly focused on Van Helsing as the vampire's brain clearly processed the information he was receiving, face becoming lax at the effort of cognition. Clearly, the beast was not as his best yet. After a minute or more had passed, the face reanimated, becoming frightened again, worried as the red eyes returned to focus on Abraham.
"You are sealed into this room, and are to stay here. Attempting to leave without permission will cause you pain. There is silver on the floor; touching those lines will burn you, and touching the walls will burn you." Another pause, as the vampire worked his way through the instructions. After a moment, the red eyes turned to take in the silver diagrams in the floor, then rose back to his Master. "And you are to call me Master when I allow you to speak. For tonight, you will be alone. Do not extinguish the candles. Tomorrow night I will feed you again and you will begin to learn your place." A cruel smile flickered across Abraham's face. He'd waited so long for this moment, and expected the vampire to fight him...and admitted he was anticipating the vampire's response and the punishment in a very unChristian way.
"Do you understand me?" His cold eyes bore into the vampire's. The creature nodded immediately. "Use your voice, damn you." Dracula startled back again, then the mouth opened under those wide, frightened red eyes. The jaw moved, but no sound came out. The vampire looked even more frightened, jaw trembling, tongue lifting in his mouth and then relaxing, and air whooshed in and out with a soft rasping sound. And no answer. He was ordered to speak, and wasn't...and the bonds had to be starting to hurt him. The eyes began to glaze, the breathing speeding up to pants, mouth working frantically. Finally, a creaky moan, an unintelligible gurgle, came out. The vampire hunched forward, eyes screwing shut, a deep mewling sound forming in his throat, teeth clicking together as his jaw rose and fell, lips pursing forward and then drawing back.
When the vampire began to keen, still clearly struggling to speak, clearly suffering, Abraham finally released him. "You may cease answering now." His voice was crisp and chill, and to his surprise his vampire slumped against the coffin, eyes drooping closed and shoulders trembling, breath still rasping in and out but much more quietly. Thoughtfully, Van Helsing observed him and considered. He'd expected the vampire to resist his control, to refuse to call him Master. Instead...it appeared the creature had immediately attempted to obey, but simply couldn't manage the fine motor control needed for speech.
Perhaps tomorrow he'd manage more. Without a single word to his vampire, Abraham rose, scooping up the lantern. Within moments, the two remaining candles were glowing in the darkness, the empty bottles were back in their basket, and Abraham was at the door.
Turning to look, he was unsurprised to see the vampire exactly where he'd been left, hands once again gripping the hair, eyes staring vaguely at the floor, mouth slightly open as the creature...panted. Abraham wondered briefly if the panting was from fear, or pain. He hadn't even realized that vampires ever took in air other than to talk; the air wasn't necessary for their well-being, after all. And yet, his vampire was panting. As with the movement of the tiny bits of bone, this was yet another vampiric mystery that Abraham looked forward to analyzing.
He was almost humming with pleasure as the doors clicked shut behind him, locking his vampire away in the empty, cold, barren room as Abraham returned to the light and warmth of his home.
x x x x x x
The others had NOT been pleased to discover that Abraham had returned to the vampire, alone, at night, after they were asleep. He refused to accept their reprimands, but after a few hours of angry looks and worried, whispered comments, he took them downstairs to see the vampire for themselves.
It was still out of the coffin, slumped beside it, with the right arm draped inside and its head resting on the side. It couldn't possibly be comfortable, and Abraham wondered why it hadn't gone back inside the coffin. It was only a brief surprise, for with a moment of thought, he realized that after being trapped in the coffin for so long, the vampire was not about to crawl back inside it. However, a coffin was absolutely necessary for a deep and recuperative sleep...the beast had gotten as close to the coffin as it could be, without actually being inside. This would have to change, and soon. Abraham did not plan on being gentle with the beast during his research and it would need every bit of recuperation and rest it could obtain.
But, for now, it was clearly still frightened, still weak, so very unthreatening as the tattered beast slumped insensibly against its home, fingers knotted loosely in its hair. As the creature was asleep, several lanterns had been brought, creating a well-lit room. The vampire was easy to see...and clearly filthy. He reeked, too...Abraham leaned over him during the inspection and the soured, crusted blood and filth had formed a stench that Van Helsing was not inclined to tolerate. With hours left until dark, they had plenty of time to prepare a solution for this little problem. Abraham wasn't certain how much the vampire would be able to handle, but expected this to be a decent test of its obedience and recovery.
x x x x x
Dracula woke slowly, tired and sore after a day spent outside his coffin. Not so exhausted as he would have been had he been separated from it entirely, but the effects of the deprivation were still there. Eyes open and staring vaguely at the floor, he fought to process what had happened. Van Helsing...the man had been there. Fed him, though he was still hungry. Abraham had been...possessive. Authoritative. But...the man hadn't hurt him. Fed him, ordered him, then abandoned him, undamaged. What had he said? Ah...Master. A brief shudder, he'd had a Master before, as a human child. It was frightening, awe-inspiring at the level of control the man held over him; to not even be allowed self-defense? Then again, Abraham had been possessive...it was possible the man would protect him, as a prized object. A brief shudder. He had no doubts that Van Helsing would be capable of protecting him, he'd seen how ruthless and powerful the man was.
The silver...yes. Red eyes gazed about the room, lit by the flickering candles. Candles...he could not put them out, though he would have prefered the safety of the darkness. He thought about putting them out anyways, testing Abraham's control, and pain shot through his body. Not severe, no, but a warning nonetheless. He jerked against the side of the coffin, eyes wide in shock, then calmed. So, no. No disobedience. Another brief shudder. Silver on the floor. Looking, he noticed that while the designs were widespread, they were also widely spaced. There was plenty of floor space to stand and sit and not touch the silver. The walls... Rising and stepping over the silver lines, he was stiff, but mobile again, in control of his body. The walls...they seemed simple stone and mortar. Testing, careful, he reached towards them. The merest brush of a finger on the stone stung slightly, but touching the mortar burned. The finger, slightly smoking, jerked away. So, the walls and floor were exactly as Abraham said.
"They'll hold you." Clear and loud, the voice rocked Dracula, and he staggered, falling against the wall. With a gasp, he shoved away from it, slightly burned, looking rapidly about for the source of that voice. There were windows beside the door. High and narrow, maybe a hands-width wide, barred, as long as his arm. And watching him through one of those openings was Van Helsing himself. Swallowing nervously, Dracula backed away. He knew that his Master had said that he would be fed...and then he would "learn his place." English idioms were still puzzling, but he had no doubt that this was an ominous phrase, Abraham had been far too delighted with delivering it. Shivering, he returned to the comfort of his coffin, crouching beside it, dreading what would come.
x x x x x x
He didn't have long to wait. The door swung open, the room brightening considerably as Abraham strode in with a blazingly bright lantern. He winced away, eyes nearly shut from the brightness, waiting subserviently to see what his Master would bid him to do. He was hungry, and hoped for food as well, but with a dull pessimism realized that he was whole and intact now, so food and rest were no longer an immediate need and would likely be withheld. The footsteps, solid and loud and menacing, approached, and Dracula closed his eyes entirely, pressing his body against the coffin, fearing what Abraham would do.
"Open your eyes. Look at me." Dracula forced them open, though they wanted to close, lifted his head from the floor to see Van Helsing. Neck muscles twanged a warning at him, fighting to pull his head back down, to cower away. He vaguely realized that this would have been unthinkable a few months ago.
That was before the coffin. Trapped.
The memory rose up unbidden, causing him to cry out weakly, to huddle on the floor, curled up tightly. And then the pain struck him, for he was no longer watching his Master. Fear and Pain, he tried to escape, to dart away, only to have the pain strike harder. He stretched out on the floor, spasming in agony, trying desperately to escape, to move away, to find a dark corner and conceal himself from the threat. And each attempt brought more pain.
x x x x x x
Abraham frowned down at his new pet. The beast had seemed so cooperative at first, what had happened? Ignoring the slowly rising wails and whimpers, he crouched beside it. The riding crop rested in his hand; he'd meant to show it to the vampire as a warning to mind his behavior, perhaps giving a brief demonstration of its ability to hurt the beast. Instead, the beast was somehow hurting itself. He wasn't certain what had startled it, but it was becoming clear that it couldn't obey the orders, possibly not even remember them. It hadn't been entirely coherent the night before, after all...Damn.
"You may move. You no longer need to look at me." The vampire's rigid form relaxed briefly, then the red eyes opened, glazed and half-aware. The creature rolled over suddenly, pushing off from the floor with a fluid grace and incredible speed, and was somehow in the corner farthest from Abraham. A pair of worried red eyes, half-aware and terrified, gazed at him. Abraham snorted. This timid beast wasn't going to be anywhere near as much fun as he'd hoped. Still, it stank, and there was a remedy waiting. The riding crop went back under his belt, and he unclipped a short coil of braided leather instead.
"Wait there." A blink of the red eyes, a nervous whine quickly shut off, and the vampire stayed motionless as Abraham moved towards it. Leaning down briefly, he snapped the braided leash onto the vampire's collar. He'd really expected a bit of a protest, but the vampire only trembled slightly, silently watching and allowing Abraham to leash him like a dog. Standing, he moved a step away. "Come." A hard tug on the leash, and the vampire fell awkwardly forward, then in a sudden switch turned the awkward sprawl into a smooth rise, standing and stepping towards Abraham.
Abraham scowled. No, this was nowhere near as fun as expected. Keeping a tight grip on the leash, he turned his back to the vampire and moved towards the door. There wasn't even the slightest tug as the vampire ghosted obediently after him.
x x x x x x
Cowed, Dracula followed his Master. He'd seen the riding crop, tipped with hateful silver, tucked into the belt. He'd already experienced the pain of the bindings that Van Helsing had him under as well, and he had no intention at all of giving the man a reason to beat him. He'd probably be beaten anyways, but he'd like to delay it as much as possible. And so he followed close behind his Master, keeping the leash slack. A careful sniff, and the odor of dog rose to meet him.
His Master was truly using a dog leash on him. His spirit, already low, sank a bit farther. And then Van Helsing opened the door, pulling him after, and Dracula balked slightly. He hadn't meant to, but he was so frightened...he knew his room, he was familiar with it, and his coffin was there...now Master was taking him someplace unknown. The cold and rational part of his mind told him that he was simply entering a hallway, but that cold and rational part of his mind had nearly died while trapped in the coffin, and the reactive beast left behind screamed at him in fear.
x x x x x
Unexpectedly, the leash tightened. Abraham turned around, glad to have an excuse to finally beat the vampire a bit, as he longed for, to find it...NOT looking rebellious. Only frightened. A sigh escaped him, for the vampire had already reacted so badly to light and sound and now he was exposing it to new rooms and sights. Novel sensations were probably a bad idea for its stability, but Abraham was determined to get rid of that reek. Instead of snapping the recalcitrant beast with the crop, he forced himself to speak calmly. "Relax, we'll wait a moment until you are ready. It's just a hallway." Desperate, frightened red eyes fixed on him, and he remained still, trying to appear less threatening. After a few moments, the vampire's shoulders rose from their hunched position and it took a tentative step forward, once again putting slack in the leash.
"Good boy." Soothing and calm, much like one would speak to a nervous and piddling spaniel, Abraham moved slowly into the hall, drawing the vampire after him. Then, he stopped, waiting for the vampire to adjust to the new surroundings. He wanted to haul the vampire down the hall after him, but had realized with frustration that force would create fear, and fear would mean a keening, insensible, blubbering monster huddled on the floor.
Damn, damn, DAMN. The beast had better recover. Abraham was not about to put up with this useless sniveling. But for now, he didn't have much of an option.
The vampire's eyes had darted about, shoulders hunched slightly, and he'd shuffled reluctantly closer to Abraham, as though expecting the human to protect him. Odd, that. After only a minute or two, far less time than Abraham had expected, the vampire had relaxed again. Stepping away from him, Abraham was pleased to find the vampire once again following him docilely, not frozen in fear. The basement steps were another issue. Dracula was able to walk, to crawl, but lifting a foot to mount the steps caused him to stumble off-balance and fall forward onto them. A keening frightened wail, and the beast began to scrabble about. The head lifted, and Abraham saw the wild eyes...and the streak of blood on the cut chin. The vampire began to scramble, seeking safety, and Abraham was utterly shocked when the vampire suddenly determined that HE was a source of safety and pushed between the man and the wall.
As the only familiar object, Abraham supposed it was only to be expected that the vampire would latch on to him when frightened. If they'd still been in the vampire's room, it probably would have gone to its corner or clung to the coffin. Absent those crutches, it used him. With yet another sigh at his thoroughly frustrating future research subject, he settled himself down on a step, waiting for the beast to calm. It didn't take long, and when Abraham rose and quietly and slowly began to climb up the stairs, the vampire crawled along behind him.
Getting it through the door at the top of the stairs and into the brightly-lit hallway, full of strange smells, with a carpet, was much more difficult. The vampire froze, on the verge of panicking, eyes wide and mindless. Abraham wanted to beat the frustrating, disappointing monster, but was wise enough to know that taking his frustrations out on the damaged beast would simply mean a chase back to its rooms and a repeat of the ordeal of getting it back to this point. Instead, he sat in the doorway, blocking the vampire from the hallway, letting it hide on the stairway and peer over his legs at the frightening hallway. Back to the doorframe, he rubbed his eyes, frustrated and frazzled at the slow pace and broken nature of his prize.
Prize, hah. He'd expected to have a proud, angry, powerful beast forced to kneel at his feet. He'd anticipated the power he'd have over it, the rage as the evil creature realized it was bound to servitude. His mind had built up a great series of images of what he'd do, how the creature would behave, how he would break it.
And, instead, he had a snivelling, panicking, mute beast that was scared of its own shadow that he had to resist kicking in his anger and disappointment.
Fortunately, the beast had eased back from his panic and was now watching Abraham, apparently waiting to see what Abraham wanted him to do next. Pushing off from the doorframe, Van Helsing stood, then stepped into the hallway, gently drawing the vampire after him. Dracula froze for a moment, eyes tightly shut, body tight and motionless, as he adjusted to being in the brightly lit, open space. But only for a moment, then the red eyes opened again, focusing on Abraham. He followed easily after his Master down the hallway, almost crowding on the man's heels, anxious to stay close by. When Abraham entered the kitchen and stopped, the monster nearly ran into him. It had been so focused on him, eyes fixed on his Master and carefully ignoring the changing scenery about it, that it almost failed to stop in time.
Abraham fought a small smile off his face at the wide-eyed, chagrined expression that flickered across the beast's face. Instead, he waited calmly while the monster began to glance around the room. It kept a wary red eye on him, constantly flicking back to glance at him, maybe wondering what it should do next, maybe worried that Abraham would hurt him, maybe concerned that his Master would leave. Van Helsing didn't know which and really didn't care. He did care when the vampire noticed the steaming tub of water. The eyes fixed, unblinking, on the bath as the vampire clearly considered what it meant. It was a far cry from the quick intelligence it had previously displayed, but at least the mind was functioning, even if at a reduced level.
"Remove all your clothing." Red eyes turned back to him, and then the vampire backed away slowly, eyes unreadable, until the leash was pulled nearly taut. Abraham frowned. The bindings should be causing pain, the vampire had been so obedient, why now the sudden refusal? Yes, definite pain, if the trembling and the tightening of the creature's eyes were any indication. Repeating. "Remove your clothing." The vampire shook harder, beginning to whine from the pain, and the eyes squinted, red tears forming in the corners.
Abraham had no idea why his beast was not cooperating; he'd rather suffer than remove his clothes? What an odd creature. Suddenly, with a jump in his heart, Abraham realized that the vampire might have something concealed under those tattered, filthy clothes that he didn't want his master to find. Something stolen during the slow walk down the hall, perhaps a weapon? Now threatened, Van Helsing rose his voice, commanding the vampire loudly and firmly to remove his clothes.
Instead of obeying, the vampire fell to the floor, keening. Drawing out and opening his pocketknife, eyes blazing and jaw locked with fury, Abraham grabbed the vampire's wrist and ripped the knife through the sleeve fabric. He sawed and tored and yanked, and within moments the screaming vampire was naked on the floor, huddled into a tight ball, absolutely and mindlessly terrified.
And entirely weaponless. No valuables hidden anywhere in the tattered, thin remants of clothes that had become a pile of rags upon the floor. He'd truly expected to find a weapon, a knife, even a sharpened metal stick, SOMETHING dangerous on the creature, and Abraham stared bemused at the terrified and unarmed creature as it rocked and wailed. Damnation. His aggression had destroyed any confidence it had regained in his presence. He was so tempted to grab it by its hair and haul it back downstairs, lock it in the room, and then spend the rest of his life forgetting about this failure. All that effort to capture it, the voyages, racing to the castle, Quincy's death, the preparation of the room...and at the end of it, this weak and wailing, worthless creature was his prize.
It was when the creature went into spams that Abraham suddenly realized he'd given it a command it could no longer follow. He'd told it to remove its clothing. The clothing had been removed by Abraham instead...but for the binding to stop, the monster had to follow the order and remove its clothing. Cursing roundly, Abraham paused, then released the monster with a terse, angry speech. "You no longer need to remove your clothes." The vampire stopped spasming, simply gasping and mewling in the aftershocks of agony. "Silence." Quiet reigned, and Abraham looped the leash end about the bathtub's foot, then went to the small pantry on the side. He had ale and wine in the basement, but there was always a small bottle available upstairs. And damned if he didn't need it.
Sitting on a low kitchen stool, legs outstretched, bottle in hand, he watched his vampire bitterly. Vampire. Bah. Cowardly, nearly mindless, entirely lacking any courage whatsoever, physically so damaged that it had to crawl up the stairs...this was no vampire. This was Failure. And Abraham couldn't abide failure.
And then his vampire did something...amazing. Something he hadn't even suspected it could do. Looking back on it, he should have realized this, for there were no scraps of cloth in the coffin or in the room, despite the tattered and battered state of the creature's clothes. The vampire uncurled enough to glance at the rags remaining on the floor...and...they melted. Melted into a shadow, which moved across the floor to the vampire...and vanished.
Abraham blinked. Had he imagined this? No. The clothes were gone. A look around the room showed them not present anywhere on the floor or the cabinets. He was certain he hadn't fainted or lost himself in a daydream of some bizarre kind, and the vampire would not be able to mesmerize him, the Master, like it might another human. No, difficult as it might be to believe, those clothes had been taken in by the monster.
"How did you do that?" Abraham launched himself from his stool, striding to the monster, looming over it and demanding an answer. A few moments of frozen fear, then the monster began desperately shaking its head, babbling in some foreign language. "English, you idiot. Speak English or don't speak at all. How did you make those clothes vanish? Where are they?" The monster had regained its tongue, Abraham absently noted, actually speaking, but it fell silent upon the command to speak English. The mouth worked, but the mind...the mind clearly could not formulate an answer. And the monster was experiencing pain and moving towards agony, fighting to speak but entirely unable to do so.
Abraham glared, letting the monster spasm and convulse in agony as the pain built and built. Such a fantastic discovery, and the damned creature was too damaged to even speak of it! And then guilt struck him, as he watched the mindless creature arching off the ground again, body rigid with agony. He knew damn good and well the beast wasn't disobeying on purpose, what the hell was he thinking, letting it go through this? "Nevermind." The vampire immediately curled into a ball, hands again fisted in his hair, lying on his side on the floor, face hidden in his knees, shaking...but silent.
Twenty minutes, Abraham thought they'd been in the kitchen perhaps that long. And he'd already reduced the vampire to mindless pain twice and seen an amazing exhibition of powers. He sipped his bitter beer, pondering. Well, the water wasn't getting any warmer, and the vampire seemed to be willing to stay curled in that tight little ball for the foreseeable future. Placing his bottle on the counter with a resounding thud, he rose, scooped up the vampire, and dropped it unceremoniously in the hot water.
x x x x x x x
Heat. Water. Dracula would normally have loathed heat, and vampires and water were only passing acquaintances. But...before he could consider protesting...he realized that it soothed. Soothed. Yes. The heat...eased all the pain and strain from the brief tortures he'd just experienced, unknotting and releasing the tension. Unexpected, this. And the water buoyed him up, easing the compressed and strained joints. Instead of struggling to escape the tub, the vampire found himself...relaxing. Steam wreathed about his face as the dark strands of his hair straggled into the water and he stared vaguely past the surface of the water to the surface of his body.
Bruises blossomed along the skin from his struggles and thrashing, but as quickly as they were forming, they were fading. He was hungry, but not starved, tired but not exhausted, and his body was healing those minor damages. The muscles, unknotting from the heat, were also slowly healing, the tears and strains becoming whole tissue again. Tired, vague, unwilling to focus his attention on anything not superficial, he watched blankly the small changes occurring on his skin and absorbed the heat of the tub. As his body healed, the blood slowly being used, his hunger increased from minor peckishness to true hunger. He continued to stare vaguely, soaking in the hot water.
A hand grabbed his hair, pulling his head back, but immediately Master's face came into view. Master had done this. Master had the right. Obediently, Dracula allowed the man to move him about like a puppet, tilting his head back and then pulling open his mouth. And then Master poured blood in his mouth. Eyes widened in surprise, Dracula sucked it down, feeling the hunger ease immediately.
Abraham rocked back on his heels. "I'd intended to feed you after the bath. However, considering other events of the night, you've gotten your meal early. There will be no more tonight."
x x x x x
The vampire simply stared dully up at him. Abraham found himself frowning. Such an odd beast it was. Odd and filthy. He'd placed the great tub in the kitchen over the drain, wanting the large room to clean the monster and because of the proximity to the basement. There was a bathroom upstairs, but he'd been reluctant to parade the filthy and unpredictable beast through the house until it had been bathed and he'd determined that it would not be a problem in the house. Inititally, he'd been concerned it might manage to attack someone, or escape, or go on a rampage. Now, he was more concerned that it would panic and find some very effective hidey-hole.
Enough with the musing. Picking up a ewer, he scooped up some of the water and dumped it over the creature's head, watching it roll off, nearly black with filth. Pitcher after pitcher rolled off the beast, rinsing the grime and filth away from the head and shoulders. The rest of the body, under the surface, had literal chunks of filth soaking loose and falling off. The vampire just continued to sit dully as the outer layer of filth was rinsed off. Reaching for a soft brush and soap, Abraham prepared to scrub the vampire. The movement caught the vampire's attention, and the dull red eyes lifted to see what was occurring, then turned back to the water. The soapy brush scrubbed away at the shoulders, ran through the hair, and then Abraham lifted each arm out of the water, scrubbing away. The suds came up brown. The vampire's head was tilted back, the body leaned against the back of the tub, and Van Helsing prepared to scrub the face, neck, and chest. The vampire seemed resigned, utterly complacent; it was disturbingly like cleaning a doll.
Except that dolls didn't cry. And a slow leak of red tears crept out of the monster's eyes. Abraham knew he didn' t have soap in the beast's eyes, he'd been careful of that. Unsure of the source of its distress, he simply chalked it up to the earlier trauma and continued scrubbing. Upper body done, he reached into the water, shifting the vampire's body downward, allowing him to lift a leg out of the water and scrub that as well. The vampire's soundlessness devolved into the slightest of whimpers, but he tolerated the cleaning, even the more intimate regions, without additional protest.
The water was simply too filthy to get the vampire any cleaner, but Abraham was prepared for this. The vampire was hauled unceremoniously out of the tub and dropped onto the floor, a few ewers of fresh water filled at the sink and poured on him to rinse off the worst of the soap while the tub drained. The gurgle as it ran from the plug and splashed onto the kitchen floor was the only sound; the water raced down the floor drain soundlessly and the vampire had returned to his doll-like state. Within minutes, only the sludge remained in the tub, and several ewers of hot water rinsed it out. Clean, the tub was refilled and the vampire dropped back in.
This cleaning was far more involved. Even the new nails, shiny and thick, were cleaned, the ears wiped out, and multiple cloths and brushes were used. The hair was thoroughly scrubbed, the scalp rid of all dirt and filth. Because of the burning oil and the smoke, the vampire was coated to his skin with a thin layer of oily soot, except where the dried blood and the filth of the basement had already been present. Afterwards, buckets of fresh, clean water were used on the creature, washing away the suds and dirt down the drain. All that was left was the clean, gleaming white flesh of the vampire, a marble statue curled into the tub.
Picking up the leash, Abraham clipped it to the beautiful beast, still puzzled and somewhat concerned by its limp behavior and dull acceptance of the bath. He certainly looked far better now; no bruises or welts marring that perfect body, hair gleaming, body shining a pure white. The vampire looked the part of a prize now, if only it would lose that dull, despairing expression!
"Stand up." The vampire obliged, rising smoothly to its feet in the tub, eyes still downcast. Abraham reached out to grab its hand, intending to help it out of the tub, and the beast flinched, though allowed the contact. "Step out." The vampire did so, and as soon as it was standing safely on the floor, Abraham released him. The vampire didn't exactly yank his hand away, but the appendage was suddenly moved as far away as possible without the vampire himself moving. Well, well. Someone didn't like to be touched. If so, that would explain its misery during the bath. Abraham would have to continue exploring this characteristic of his new pet. Reaching over, he scooped up the pants and robe from the countertop where they'd been waiting. Old and soft and worn, the pants were near rags. Clean and intact, but a clear sign of the vampire's lack of status in the household. Abraham intended to fully imprint on the beast how little it had. The robe would be easier to remove than a shirt with a shirt's ties and buttons, and was only marginally less shabby than the pants. Van Helsing didn't even bother with socks, shoes, or underclothes, not for a mere pet.
"Put these on." There was a pause as the vampire stared at them, then, lightning quick, Abraham found the clothes snatched from his hands. Faster than he'd have thought possible, the vampire had the clothes on, hunching the robe up about his neck and hiding his hands in the pockets. The red eyes, wondering, fixed on Abraham, and the man watched the vampire's throat move, adam's apple bobbing for a few seconds.
"Thank you." So quiet, almost inaudible, definitely a voice long out of use, but still, the vampire had clearly spoken, and English. Abraham smiled; the beast was recovering. The red eyes suddenly widened, and a "Master" was blurted onto the end of the thanks. Yes, he'd told the beast to call him Master when talking. Abraham acknowledged the vampire's thanks with a brisk nod, then turned to lead it out of the kitchen.
x x x x x x
The first stop was Abraham's bedroom. The vampire had followed him obediently, no longer startling or frightened at the new rooms and doorways. He was recovering in leaps and bounds, much to Abraham's pleasure. However, the smug pleasure at the obedience and the vampire's much improved appearance vanished when he entered his bedroom. The vampire saw the bed and simply froze in place. Angered, Abraham tugged on the leash, but the vampire simply closed its eyes and swayed in place, moaning slightly.
"Get IN here. You may be clean, but I am soaked and filthy." The vampire simply shivered, though the pain for disobeying was clearly building. "Come in. Sit on the floor while I change my clothing." Red eyes opened slightly, peering cautiously at Abraham, then the vampire darted in to sit as close to the door as possible. Abraham had to scoot him slightly to shut the door.
Soaked was an understatement. He had gotten drenched with gritty, grimy water during the course of his vampire's prolonged bath, and it was with pleasure that he stripped off those clothes to put on a fresh, dry, soft shirt and shapeless pants, wrapping a smoking robe over it and finishing off with a pair of lined wool slippers. The vampire was nearly soundless, whimpering a single time when Abraham had removed his clothing but otherwise hunched over, as tiny and inconspicuous as the tall beast could manage.
Puzzled yet again by his odd charge, Abraham picked up the leash and turned the knob. The vampire was off the floor, nearly crowding past his Master as they entered the hallway.
Dracula had no such trouble entering the office. Van Helsing strode to his desk, vampire trailing close behind him. When Abraham gave him curt directions, the vampire quickly obeyed.
"I'll be writing at my desk. Sit beside me." And when Abraham pulled his chair out to sit, the vampire folded up silently beside him. It took quite some time to write down how the vampire had behaved that night, from the panic at leaving the room and the disaster when it tried to mount the stairs, to hiding behind him, to the disappearing clothing. THAT Abraham certainly intended to investigate. He had gotten to the part where he'd observed that the vampire seemed to loathe being touched, miserable in the bath and then pulling his hand out of reach. With a sly little smile at the vampire, now back to sitting motionless and gazing at the floor, Abraham slowly reached out to pat its head.
It was like petting a cat that didn't want to be petted. The vampire melted away under his hand, just barely staying out of reach, not quite touchable. When the hand was removed, the vampire sat back up...only to duck away slowly again when the hand descended. Chortling to himself, Abraham ignored the worried and confused red eyes watching him as he wrote down his observation. The vampire did not appear to like being touched by Van Helsing. He'd have to see if it was true of other people, or just himself, and limited to only adult men or all people. What an odd creature.
After this observation came the clothing. The vampire's first words had expressed gratitude for the clothing, though it might have been the bath. Abraham eyed the beast, finally voicing his question.
"Were you thanking me for the bath, or the clothes?"
It took a moment for the vampire to successfully form words, but the "Clothes, Master." was audible, if only barely, and clear.
"You dislike being unclothed. Is that correct?" The vampire simply nodded rapidly, eager to convey that he had an obvious and definite preference for clothing, eyes fixed on Abraham.
Well, forcing him to be naked or to submit to being petted might be handy ways of punishing the monster without having to deprive it of food or damage it physically, both of which would have potentially altered the results of Abraham's research and conclusions. This was handy to know.
Turning back to his writing, Abraham wrote down these notes, then finished with a short list of the potential future research topics he'd formed from the evening's experiences. The vampire sat quietly, but the eyes now moved about the room, observing and cataloging everything with a vaguely interested expression. Smiling, curious as to what the beast would do, Abraham leaned down and unclipped the leash. The vampire's head whipped about and it stared up at him.
"Stay in the room. But you may move about in it."
The vampire needed no second bit of encouragement, but darted away from Abraham, crouching in the corner farthest from the man, watching him warily. Abraham pretended to interest in his work, writing down what the vampire was doing and creating a quick sketch of its pose. The vampire had seemed so calm, he hadn't been aware that it wanted to be away from him.
Before long, the vampire had relaxed out of its tense crouch, and alternated between glancing at Abraham and looking at the windows. The vampire was only seeing them at an angle, and Abraham doubted he could even see the glass, much less see out of them. But the vampire was rocking with indecision, eyes darting between Abraham and the window. Curious, Van Helsing continued to feign indifference and work, pretending not to notice the vampire's actions. Finally, the vampire moved out of the corner. It slunk, there was no better word for it, along the wall towards the window. When possible, it traveled behind furniture, sparse though it was, and darted through the more exposed places, clearly nervous that Abraham would see it.
Was it considering attempting to escape through a window? The restrictions he'd placed on the beast simply would not allow that.
To his shock, the vampire hid behind one of the open drapes, crouched on the floor. It made a very obvious lump where the vampire was, but he clearly felt more comfortable out of direct sight. Instead, he extended his head slightly from his hiding place, glancing back nervously at Abraham, then turning back to gaze out the window.
The vampire hadn't seen the outside world since he was caught in Romania, after all. Abraham mused that this shouldn't be overly surprising at all, vampires were very bestial, not humans, and its attraction to the outdoors was understandable in this context. He wrote down these observations as well, creating a few more sketches, giving the opportunity for the vampire to feel unobserved. The vampire wasn't looking down at the grounds, though...but up at the sky. Eventually, it moved entirely from behind the curtain, having begun completely ignoring Abraham's presence, then stretched out on the carpet in front of the window. Its feet were nearly buried in one drape, its head inches from the other, as it lay stretched on its side, arm tucked under its head...and watching something in the sky.
The moon. Abraham could see it from the window beside his desk, a pale sliver riding through the sky. There were few clouds tonight, and it was very visible...and entrancing to the vampire. Abraham felt entirely forgotten as the vampire watched the moon, unblinking, rapt and focused on the celestial visitor. The side of the monster's face was only slightly visible, a slight curve of the lashes peeking over the high cheekbone, showing the absolute lack of motion in the face, not even a blink or twitch of the lashes or cheek. It was fascinating to observe, so very inhuman.
And it was very late. Abraham pushed back his chair, and the vampire suddenly reanimated, whipping its head around to watch him. It was like watching a marble statue come to life, and Abraham regretted ending the experience. It had been so quiet and so peaceful and so...odd. Enchanting, really, though he suspected his fatigue at the end of a long day had a substantial amount to do with that effect. The vampire shifted a bit nervously as he approached, glancing down at the leash then back up at his face, edging slowly away on his hands and knees, but not trying to escape. As Abraham reached for him, metal clasp in his hand, the beast actually tilted his head to allow easier access to the loop on his collar.
Leash attached, he followed easily and obediently behind Abraham as they moved to the door. "Time for bed." That was Abraham's terse explanation, given because although he felt it wasn't really his duty to tell the literally damned creature anything, it seemed only polite that it know what was happening. And it was a mistake.
The beast froze in mid-step. Abraham turned and waited, watching as its eyes closed again. It seemed to deal with turmoil and threat in that way, withdrawing from the world. Or perhaps it knew its eyes were simply too indicative of its thoughts and feelings, and thus closed them to avoid revealing too much. But instead of pulling the beast after him, Van Helsing, curious, stopped to watch it. Time ticked by, then after a few minutes, a very subdued vampire, shoulders slumping, trudged after him.
As they passed Abraham's bedroom door, he saw the vampire pause out of the corner of his eye. Apparently, it expected to be allowed in his bedroom. No chance of that. It was back down to the basement with the beast; a human bed was a priviledge it was nowhere close to earning. However...it wasn't disappointment that showed on its face. Abraham would have to say it was...relief? Confusion? It remained silent though and other than that brief pause, gave no indication of what it had expected. They traveled back to the basement without incident.
Abraham pulled the cell door open, wordlessly gave the vampire a little push in, removed the leash with a snick, and then shut the door on it. He locked it, closed and locked the outer door, then, knowing how sleepy he was rapidly becoming, he gave the lock a second tug, verifying that it was closed. He was tempted to take a look in at the vampire, but that would mean more effort than he wanted to put out. It was far, far past the time he should have gone to sleep. Somehow, he was going to have to get that creature awake during the day.
Vampire safely shut away, he went off to his bed himself. He'd learned so much this evening. He'd really only intended to get the creature cleaned up, but that interaction had revealed a great deal about how it thought, its preferences and dislikes, and how to manage its fears.
It might be a long time before the beast had recovered enough to conduct the more...strenuous...experiments. But this was already a promising start.
XXXXX
Dracula stood, listening to the footsteps as his Master walked away. Was he truly gone? Yes...both doors shut...footsteps down the hallway...the click click click as his Master climbed the stairs, the creak and thunk as the door at the top closed. With Van Helsing gone, the tension that had vibrated through the vampire all night vanished, and he fell to his knees where he had stood, arms wrapped about his chest, rocking back and forth, panting. Gone, gone, he was safe again. After a few moments, he recovered, the overwhelming sense of relief and release vanishing to return him to the normal state of indeterminate dread. With that, he moved to his coffin, taking comfort in the touch of the solid, dense black wood and the familiar smell. No, not inside it, not yet. Maybe not ever, and that thought had a small shudder with it again. But he could at least be close to it.
Bending over, curling up again, arms crossed on knees, chin resting on his arms, he considered the evening's events. Van Helsing had been nowhere near as cruel as he'd feared. Not gentle, not at all. Patient with his broken vampire, and Dracula had no misconceptions about how damaged he was, though he was powerless to do anything about it. Food, he'd been fed, and cleaned. Thoroughly cleaned, but Master had not scrubbed painfully hard, had taken no liberties with his body. Clothing, too...not dressed in rags, though these were a bare step up. Clothing that covered, concealed, protected. He'd had a bad moment when, once he was cleaned, Master had immediately hauled him into a bedroom. Dracula had no illusions about how attractive humans found his body, it was one of the characteristics of a vampire that made them such effective predators. But...he'd simply been told to sit and wait.
And then given the freedom to walk about the office, no leash. And the moon...oh, how he had missed that. Something very primal, very instinctive in vampires called them to the moon with no less power than a werewolf was called. Being able to finally see the moon again had been entrancing, hypnotizing. For a short period of time, he'd actually forgotten where he was, what had happened to him, even the presence of Van Helsing. That brief respite had left him...revitalized, if vitality could refer to a dead creature such as himself. And then he'd been told it was "time for bed." To Dracula, who lacked a bed, that meant that he was expected to fill his Master's bed. Cowed, broken, dreading this, but aware that he had no choice in the matter and could only hope that it would be over with quickly, he had forced himself to comply.
And instead, simply been taken back down to his room and released.
Today had been momentous. He'd recovered his voice, halting and difficult though speech was to him. He'd experienced the level of control that Master had over him, and that control was utter. He'd been led about like a dog, then given the chance to moonwatch. Incredibly painful moments, then a meal, then returned to his cell.
Confusing. But to truly get the most out of a prisoner, it was best to start playing with them after they were healthy and whole, and the most fun when they actually had regained some sort of hope that they wouldn't be abused. The crushing disappointment and shock when their gentle captors showed up with chains and tools instead of soft ropes and meals was one of his primal pleasures, indulged in many times over the centuries, though far less often after his first death.
He knew not to hope for anything more. Abraham was creative and cruel, and only raising his hopes to dash them down. Depressed again, all remaining joy from his moonwatching entirely extinguished, Dracula slouched by his coffin, inert and terribly, terribly sad, until the rising sun lulled him into a shallow sleep.
x x x x x x x
Opening the door to the cell that afternoon, Abraham was not pleased to see that the clean clothes he'd dressed the vampire in now had blackened knees and a filthy hem around the ankles. The robe was smudged where it had rested against the coffin and sported sooty black handprints. The feet and hands of the beast were also smudged and black yet again. Damn.
The sharp shards of broken lantern glittered at the man, with the greasy spread of burnt oil on the floor around them. The floor had already been filthy, for when laying the silver warding, there had not been time to clean it. Smoke and soot from the crucibles used to melt the silver had laid their own layer of grime over the dirt of centuries. Rodent droppings and urine, dead insects and spiders, the slow leak of water at various times over various decades, had all contrived to leave the room a filthy pit. While he'd cleaned his vampire the night before and provided clean clothing, clearly, this was a lost cause.
But he didn't intend to have the creature spreading stains about his home, nor did he want to be constantly washing the monster and reclothing it. Having any staff members down here cleaning was too risky. Should a few of them find the silver inlays a tempting and salable find, he'd have damaged wards. Cleaning it himself...no, not appealing at all. He was the owner of the house, not a scullery maid. And damned if he'd ask the Harkers, Seward, or Holmswood to lower themselves to clean a cage for a beast.
Then again, this beast was perfectly capable of cleaning its own cage. The more he thought of this, the more Abraham was pleased with the solution. It would give the creature activity and stimulation, keep it preoccupied and busy while it recovered. If it failed to clean well, or refused, or did a slovenly job, well, he'd have a chance to punish it intentionally and finally use that silver-tipped crop he'd spent so much time deciding on and preparing. There were plenty of more advanced forms of punishment available, but frankly he prefered the speed and intimacy of the riding crop on the vampire. It would be very, very clear exactly who was delivering the punishment and where it was coming from, which the shackles and spells the beast was wound about with did not indicate.
Pleased with his solution, Abraham spent the remainder of the afternoon having buckets of steamy, soapy water, scrubbing brushes, brooms, and a dustbin brought to the room. Most of the water would drain down the heavily-warded hole in the floor, but the rest could be absorbed by the thick, heavy rags he'd brought down. The room would never be sparkling, but he'd at least be able to put the vampire back in it without immediately needing to wash him again!
x x x x x x
Dinner was a leisurely affair. While he was keen to see his newest acquisition again, Abraham was also curious about how it would respond to the new additions to its cell. Would it destroy them? Ignore them? What would it do? The vampire would be given some time, perhaps an hour, after sunset to see how it reacted to the change in its cell. Nothing it destroyed would be of any real value, after all. And so he worked his leisurely way through dessert, lingered over a cup of coffee, then finally went to see the vampire well past sunset.
The creature had clearly heard him coming, for when Abraham looked through the windows, he was able to pick out the pale form hunched in its corner. The pale clothes made it slightly more visible and the hands and feet were simply luminescent on their own. Dim red eyes peeked at him, the position of the vampire's head and arms, plus the hair falling across its face, shielded most of their light from the man. Odd, how those eyes seemed to glow on their own. Animals eyes certainly picked up and threw back light; did a vampire simply possess superb instruments to see with, reflecting every stray trace of light to create that red glow? Or did they truly possess a touch of their own Hellfire, giving them that bloody glow? Or was it an entirely different explanation?
Pushing such questions aside for now, with the intent of finding the answers in the future, Abraham entered. Lanterns were both placed on the floor, their wicks turned up, the flames bringing a bright glow to the room. Abraham strode over to his cowering pet, noticing that the beast had, indeed, noticed and interacted with the cleaning supplies. Its hands were spotless again, and the damp patches on the robe and pants showed where it had made some attempt to clean the worst of the stains. It was taking some care with its appearance, then. Or, his mind pointed out sardonically, it was simply trying to avoid punishment by taking care of the clothes it had been granted, and keeping itself clean after discovering, via the bath, that its Master wished it to be clean.
Either way, it was certainly showing more mental acuity than it had the previous night. He paused by the vampire, observing it. The face was entirely buried against the knees, hands knotted together above its head. While it wasn't rocking, nor whining, there was clear tension and a faint, but obvious, trembling. It was still very frightened of him, though not apparently mindless. Simply terrified, and hopefully obedient as a result.
Good. Boring, though, and Abraham gave a brief thought to his crop, tucked into his belt, but good. Time to see if the vampire would, and could, follow simple orders. Abraham wasn't going to give him any specifics, but wanted to see if the vampire could logically determine how to follow the orders he presented to it.
"Vampire. You will stay in this room tonight. Later, I will bring you blood. For now, clean the room." A red eye peeked up at him as the vampire twisted its head, looking confused. Abraham repeated himself. "You have buckets, soap, brushes, and water available. Clean this room."
With that, he turned and left. Once in the hallway, he looked back through the windows to watch the vampire. Had it even understood what he'd said? Yes...there. It was uncurling, with a cautious eye on the door, and moving towards the pile of supplies he'd left. Unlike a human, it inspected each and every item, picking it up, sniffing it, unfolding towels. Abraham could practically hear the painful thought process as it determined what to do. Finally, it dipped a brush in the water, then walked to the wall...and began to scrub the floor at its base. Back and forth it walked, as the brush dried. Eventually, the vampire paused, head tilted. Then, it picked up the bucket, moving the bucket to the area being cleaned rather than constantly traversing the room.
Abraham smiled. The vampire was damaged, yes, but rudimentary thought and logical processes were functional. It had figured out how to use the brushes and soap and water, realized that it was wasting effort in its cleaning, and responded. It was far too much like watching a child of four trying to clean, but compared to the screaming, weeping, mindless beast he'd been afraid he'd owned, this was a vast improvement.
Almost happy, certainly pleased, Abraham left the quietly cleaning monster to return to his study. He'd detail the proceedings so far, then bring the beast its meal.
x x x x x x x
Dracula ran the brush over the floor again, watching the dirty brown water running across it to the drain. It was mesmerizing, the only motion in the room, and vampires were predators, attracted to motion. He found himself focusing on it, only to be brought back to the room by the building ache from the bindings. Immediately, he swiped the brush across the floor again, feeling that warning, buzzing ache immediately fade.
There was so much dirt. He wasn't really certain how to clean the floor. He knew that soap, water, and brushes were used, but trying to dig up memories of using them or watching them being used was simply bringing up fog. Master had used a brush on him, and those recent memories worked. Wet brush. Rub on soap. Rub on arm...no. Not arm. Arm was clean. Rub on floor. Pleased with his deduction, the vampire rubbed the brush on the floor, watching the dirt rise up and flake off.
The soap bubbles remained, coating the floor, and he wasn't certain what to do next. Master had used an ewer, pouring clean water on him. But there was no ewer, no pitcher of any kind, just buckets. Humming, worried, he rocked a bit, trying to decide what to do. There were cloths, but those wouldn't be useful. So, he simply scrubbed more floor, leaving behind an expanding swatch of sudsy, soapy floor. Washing over the silver required care; he'd already scorched his foot once, letting out a startled yelp, then cringing, worrying that he'd attracted attention with that noise. But no footsteps were heard, no light flickered outside his room. So he kept cleaning.
He was still cleaning when Master returned.
x x x x x x
Abraham opened the door, then paused, checking on the work of his vampire. A large portion of the floor had been scrubbed, but the soap left to dry on it, leaving a muddy, sudsy film. The bits of broken glass and oil remained spread on the floor, despite the broom, dustpan, and dustbin. He frowned, then turned to his vampire, uncertain if it was being deliberately obtuse, or truly incapable.
The frightened red eyes as it hunched made him think the second, then the vampire startled a bit and began scrubbing again, enlarging the area it was cleaning. Ah, yes. He'd left the command active.
"You may stop cleaning." The vampire froze immediately, eyes on him, cautious and alert, then backed away to resume its customary position by the coffin. Abraham considered scolding it for its inept actions, but realized quickly that if the vampire was to recover, he couldn't continue to pressure it. Seward had indicated that it was likely to simply shut back down if its actions resulted in unpleasant experiences, and berating it for attempting to follow his orders, while it would be satisfying, would likely undo the creature's recovery.
Instead, he bent to pick up the dustpan, and to teach his charge how to clean.
"First, clean up the loose dirt and debris with this." Leaning down, he brushed a few clots of dirt into the dustpan. "Then dump them in here." A clang and thump as the clots banged into the bin. "Clean up more." A tinkle, as the glass was shoved into the dustpan. "Dump that in here." The tinkle and clange as the bits of glass rattled into the bin. Laying the cleaning utensils on the floor, Abraham left the room briefly, returning with one of the wooden chairs that they'd used in the hallway outside. Settling himself into the chair, he returned his gaze to the silent, watchful beast. "Now, clean up the rest of the trash on the floor with the broom and dustpan."
The vampire was awkward as he edged across the floor towards the pan, one eye always on his Master. His initial attempts were equally clumsy; the edge of the dustpan was lifted up, and the debris simply went under it. The vampire pushed too hard on the brush, and bits and splinters flew about the room instead of gliding onto the pan. But within a few tries, Abraham was pleased to see the vampire learn how to use the items correctly. The vampire apparently realized it was doing the job correctly, too, and Abraham was almost shocked to see a small, nearly invisible, smug smile appear on the beast's face.
It was...proud...of...using a dustpan?
It wasn't too long before the vampire was finished, looking vaguely about the floor, confused and at loose ends. Abraham felt another stab of disappointment. The Dracula he'd captured had been a frighteningly canny beast, sly and convoluted despite his child-like nature. Fierce, a true fighter, vicious and evil. He'd been proud of his capture.
Now, he had a slumped-over, timid beast confused by a broom. But, he reminded himself, the vampire was better than it had been and might recover farther. Even so, it was starting to look tired, listless, after only a couple hours of cleaning...and Abraham realized that he hadn't fed the beast that evening.
"You may rest. I'll return shortly." The vampire dropped the pan and broom where he stood, then moved slowly to his coffin, yet again folding up beside it. That would need to be remedied, and soon; while he was clearly functional with such limited contact, there had to be a reason that every vampire Abraham had seen slept IN its coffin. The fatigue the vampire expressed might well be a consequence of its limited time in its coffin.
Soil was needed as well, but Abraham had mixed the remaining boxes of earth from the vampire's various houses and Carfax Abbey into those bricks. The vampire was literally sleeping in a room whose inner walls were rich in his home soil. There was still a half-box remaining, perhaps it could be placed under the creature's coffin if that wasn't sufficient? And the room was certainly holy enough, though the pagan symbols interwoven through it should desecrate it enough that the vampire could sleep there. It was fully blessed by a priest and Abraham expected it to provide a suitable resting place for the vampire. Coffin, earth, and sacred resting place. Now if he could just get the literally damned beast back into its coffin to sleep, things should improve.
For now, it was curled beside its "home", an arm resting over the edge and in the coffin itself. Tired though the vampire appeared, those red eyes were still focused on Abraham, still wary. Rising, Abraham left the silent beast, but instead of moving towards the stairs, he turned to look in on his charge through the windows. As soon as he'd left, the beast had slumped over entirely, collapsed against the coffin in a clear state of fatigue.
x x x x x x x x
His rest had been too brief. Master in the room was simply...ennervating, the constant tension draining what few resources Dracula possessed. Still, Master was dangerous, and it was with effort that the vampire found himself forcing his eyes open, raising his head, watching the human (surely not only a human, not to have broken him so thoroughly?) enter, radiating human energy that just left the vampire feeling even more listless. And hungry. So hungry. He'd been fed twice, but not quite enough each time. And then he'd labored to clean the room, been in pain...he needed food.
x x x x x x
Van Helsing watched the dull eyes brighten slightly as he settle the wire basket with its two bottles on the floor. The vampire wasn't moving at all, simply alternating his wary gaze between Abraham and the bottles. Before feeding the vampire, Abraham took the time to lengthen the wicks on the lanterns, bringing the light levels up to a comfortable level. He was pleased to notice that the vampire hadn't flinched at the increased brightness.
There was a gleam at the corner of the creature's mouth. Was that a fang? Lifting a lantern, Abraham moved closer, crouching a few feet from his pet. The eyes closed tightly with that proximity, but the vampire's mouth...Drool. That was saliva. The creature was drooling after seeing those blood bottles. There was a quick pang of guilt at the realization that the beast had been that hungry, but only a brief one. After all, had he not been captured and contained, he'd still be out there, murdering and spreading his contagion. A little hunger was only a minor bit of the suffering the creature merited. Abraham uncorked a bottle, holding it only a few inches from the vampire's face, watching to see how his beast would respond.
The nose twitched slightly, the red eyes opened, focusing immediately on the bottle, and the monster gave an audible swallow.
"Do you want this?" Fearful red eyes turned to Abraham, and he realized he ought to feel guilty about taunting the hungry beast with food, but he just couldn't. Instead, he waited, forcing the creature to acknowledge its hunger, forcing it to respond to him. And it did, after a few moments of frightened contemplation, nodding slightly, eyes never moving from their wary, cautious observation of the man.
"If you want it, take it. Otherwise, I'll put it back upstairs." The vampire began to shift about, slightly rocking as it seemed to do when it was highly stressed, mouth opening slightly, then closing, then opening, as though it wanted to speak but wasn't quite sure how to do so or what to say. How frustrating. Nearly ready to put the bottle away, Abraham was pleased when a thin white hand darted out to take it. The cold, smooth skin brushed against the skin of his own hand, like chilled silk, and then the bottle had vanished against the vampire's chest. It still didn't drink, simply watching Abraham with wide eyes.
It wouldn't hurt to humor it a bit, and Abraham wasn't inclined to stay crouched on the floor by the beast much longer. With that in mind, he moved back to his chair, turning to watch the vampire. This only took a few seconds.
And he turned to see the vampire watching him again, empty bottle at its feet.
Abraham couldn't help it, he laughed. The vampire had quietly and very, very quickly emptied that bottle as soon as the man's back was turned, and now was watching him with wide, almost guilty eyes...and a bright red ring of blood around his mouth. Chuckling, Abraham rested his forehead against his hand, closing his eyes for a brief moment in his humor, and looked up...to see a tongue darting back inside a mouth, and a vampire staring back at him with a clean face.
Such an odd creature, indeed, and unexpectedly amusing.
"There's a second bottle once you've cleaned the floor." Distress, then, and confusion; the vampire didn't know how to clean the floor, after all. It was so child-like, so literal in its limited thought processes! "Here. Start by pouring water on the floor you've cleaned." Rising to lift a bucket, Abraham poured a bit of water on the sudsy, half-dried mess the vampire had left behind. "It rinses the soap and mud away. Rinse all the soap off where you cleaned. Do you understand?" A nod from his silent ward. "Then take the brush and soap, and clean again. Some of it has dried and not all the filth will rinse off. Clean it and rinse it with more water. You have enough water to rinse the floor that you have already cleaned." He eyed the monster doubtfully. "Do you understand how to clean it?"
A pause, not unexpected, and then a nod. "Are you certain you understand?" A firm nod. "Show me." The vampire cautiously unfolded from its position, soundlessly lifted the half-empty pail, and poured water on the sudsy floor. The water ran off, taking the bubbles with it, and the vampire retrieved the soapy bucket and the brush. Within moments, he was working to remove the remaining film and traces of dirt. A rinse...and then a vampire, looking surprised at the appearance of the stone that was revealed with the dirt and filth were removed!
"Good. Continue. When I return, if you have done well, I will let you drink the second bottle. Do not touch it until then. Only clean." The vampire gave a brief, longing look towards the second bottle, but began his chore with little hesitation. Abraham observed him for a few moments; already, the creature was moving more quickly, more firmly, clearly partially restored by the blood he'd consumed. Afterwards, he settled himself into the chair, silently watching his charge and noting behaviors and the constant, wary, sidelong glances.
The room was dim, even with the lanterns, not anywhere near as brightly lit as one with gas lights or daylight. It was very late, and Abraham's newly nocturnal habits were taking their toll on him. He found himself nodding off unexpectedly, and pulled himself awake. The vampire appeared oblivious, its brow slightly furrowed as it scrubbed at a particularly stained section of floor.
Quite a change, to see a Romanian vampire lord dressed in near-rags, scrubbing the cell of a dungeon. Needing a bit of activity, Abraham picked up the two empty buckets and left to return with more water. Settling back on the chair, he had to admit to boredom. If he'd been told a mere week ago that he'd be in the cell with the monster, bored, he'd have laughed. But bored he was. In any case, he'd told the vampire to clean and rinse the section of floor it had already scrubbed, and there wasn't much to do. Nothing new to write, it was too dim to read, and there was little to observe with the vampire. He considered going upstairs, but the vampire got confused too easily. If it was unable to complete its task, then it would end up in severe pain, and it was simply too unstable and fragile to risk Abraham being upstairs for a prolonged period of time while it was possibly downstairs and screaming.
And so, he watched and waited, listening to the shush-shush-shush of the brush and the occasional splash and quiet gurgle of water. The vampire's movements themselves were silent, and he found himself dozing off yet again.
He woke hours later, one lantern guttering, the other dead, the room almost black. Startled and a bit frightened at being alone in the room with the invisible vampire, he quickly turned the wick up on the failing lantern, shaking it a bit to get the last oil onto the wick. Candles, yes, there were a few stubs and a handful of full-sized ones in the hallway. Lighting a pair of those gave enough light for him to see about the room.
He was stiff and sore, meaning he'd clearly been in that chair for hours. The vampire had scrubbed and rinsed the section he'd previously cleaned, and it was clean, indeed. All buckets were empty, and the vampire was out of sight.
Had it gone into its coffin? A frisson of fear as he realized it might have left the room; the doors were unlocked. Near panic himself at the catastrophe he might have unleashed, Abraham darted to the coffin, hoping...no. EMPTY. And the surge of fear died immediately as he realized that the vampire was lying asleep on the opposite side of the coffin. It was stretched out on the lid and pressed against the side of the coffin, clearly maximizing exposure, sound asleep.
It must be day, then. He'd best leave it to sleep. Gathering up the assorted buckets and brushes to take back upstairs, he paused when he saw the full bottle of blood. He'd meant to feed it to the beast, had no intention of sending it back to sleep hungry. That the beast hadn't attacked him was likely due to the bindings. The seals and wards on the room may have kept it inside, even with the door ajar and unlocked. But why the blazes hadn't the vampire eaten the blood? It had certainly been hungry enough, and once the floor was clean it was allowed to eat. Abraham had told it that there was enough water to clean the section it had already scrubbed, and then it could eat...and it had left the food alone even though it was starved.
And frightened. And the bottle had been right by Abraham's feet. Pathetic...and sad.
Abraham took time to feed the monster before he left, draining the entire bottle into its mouth. Today, he'd see about getting a few extra bottles of blood. Two bottles each night was clearly insufficient, but when the creature returned to sleeping in its coffin, perhaps it would need less. Finishing feeding the vampire, he pondered. It had been entirely unresponsive, it was absolutely filthy, and this presented an...opportunity. Before long, he'd left, limping up the stairs on stiff knees, then returned with warm water, soap, and a rag. Stripping the vampire bare was easy enough; it had been so doll-like before that little had changed. And it didn't take much work to get the new layer of grime off the vampire, as much of it was dried soap scum and dissolved off easily leaving clean skin behind. Once it was clean, Abraham lifted it into the coffin, surprised at how little it weighed, not even ten stone if he had to make a guess. It didn't look that starved, perhaps a bit of density testing would be in its future to see if it really did have a lighter body than a similarly-sized human.
It simply lay in the coffin, unmoving, unaware. He'd been cautious of it, knowing that vampires were able to be awake during the day, but it had slept the sleep of the dead during the bath and movement. With a mental shrug, Abraham picked up the cleaning supplies and the soiled clothing, planning to bring the clean clothes to the beast when he brought it dinner that evening. The lid, he left off the coffin. He might loathe the creature, but when it woke with a lid on, it would panic, and Abraham just wasn't going to torment it without reason.
x x x x x x
It was after noon when Abraham awoke the second time, but now in his warm and soft bed. He'd sent servants off on errands to the hospitals to collect extra blood before falling into his bed, and hoped they'd return soon. The laundry maid had the clothes to scrub clean, and had assured him that they would be dry and waiting by nightfall. He was hoping for a relaxing afternoon, and had finished work and settled into his office with a newspaper and cup of hot tea when his first visitor arrived.
Seward was all to the point after a minimum of small talk. "Has the vampire made any progress?" His gaze was earnest, for if there was recovery from severe sensory deprivation for the vampire, then perhaps it would help his own patients.
Abraham had to smile with a bit of smug pride. "Very much so. He can speak, now, though he's usually mute. Last night he cleaned the floor of his cell, and the night before I took him to the kitchen and gave him a bath, then let him look out the window there," and a brief nod towards the window in question, "for nearly an hour."
"He's back to normal, then?" John's expression was a mix of shocked delight and intense curiousity.
"Far from it." Abraham's face was bitter. "He's an absolute coward, incredibly timid and flighty. Getting him from the basement to the kitchen took ages, and he's inclined to panic and bolt at anything unexpected. He can comprehend what I say, but it's with effort. Little things confuse him; he couldn't figure out how to use a dustpan initially, or how to scrub a floor." A sigh. "He's trying, and clearly terrified of me, and very leery of upsetting me. But he's a very far cry from the creature he used to be."
The two doctors spent the next hour going over Abraham's copious notes on the vampire's behavior and responses and what Abraham had observed, from its fear of the coffin to how it seemed to view Abraham as both a source of fear and as protection. At that point, the Harkers and Arthur Godalming had arrived, and both doctors gave them a recap of the situation so far. The meeting ended for dinner and the arrival of the servants with the blood, five full bottles of it. And after dinner, Dracula would be making his first "public" appearance since waking.
x x x x x x