A/N: Happy 2012! Not much to say about this chapter. It's kind of long, but I hope that's okay.
Damien spent the rest of the night crying into his pillow, not caring that his uncle could probably hear his sobs. Zoltan tried to console him, but there was nothing he could say to ease the boy's misery. Eventually Damien fell into a restless sleep haunted by the gruesome death of the breather.
As he slept he found himself back in the kitchen with the breather and vampires, only this time Vlad was ordering Damien to bite the breather. In the dream he tried to run away, but his feet felt like lead, and he turned to face the breather against his will. Vlad's booming voice echoed all around telling him to bite, and Damien could not disobey the command. His felt his teeth grow into sharp fangs as he opened his mouth and leaned in close to the man's neck…
For the third time that day Damien awoke in a cold sweat. It was always the same; every time he fell asleep he had the same dream, and each time he woke up just as he was about to bite the same nameless breather he had watched his uncle kill. The worst part of the dream was having no control over his actions; as hard as he tried to run away he could never escape.
Even though sunset was still hours away he didn't want to fall asleep and risk having the dream again. Damien stood up and went over to the bureau. As he opened one of the drawers he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He normally didn't pay any special attention to his reflection, but this time Damien straightened up to gaze into the mirror, staring deep into his reflection's blue-grey eyes. Whenever he looked into a mirror he saw an average thirteen year old boy, not a vampire born into one of the most infamous clans in history. Of course if he were a mature vampire he would not see anything in the mirror at all.
Damien reached a hand out and tentatively pressed his fingertips against the cool glass, watching at his reflection's hand met his own. It was difficult to believe that on his sixteenth birthday he would stand before the blood mirror and merge with his vampire reflection. Was the reflection in the blood mirror the same one he saw now? Because the image before him didn't look evil; it just looked like him. But everyone – his parents, his grandfather, his uncle, even Zoltan – insisted that he was destined to be evil simply because he was born a vampire. If there was one thing vampires believed in it was destiny.
While he stood before the mirror he suddenly got an idea. What if he didn't go to the blood mirror room on his sixteenth birthday? What if he ran away? Was it possible to run so far that his evil reflection could never find him? Probably not, but at this point he'd be happy just to escape from his uncle. Damien didn't want to see another breather die, and he was terrified that next time the blood would be on his hands.
It was decided. There was nowhere for him to go but that didn't matter, Damien thought as he dragged a worn suitcase out from underneath his bed and threw it on top.
The sound of Damien packing his things woke Zoltan, who yawned loudly from his corner of the room. "Why are you awake?" Zoltan asked him. "It's the middle of the day. Go back to sleep."
"Can't," Damien replied as he threw an armful of clothes into the suitcase.
"What are you doing, Master Damien?"
"I'm leaving; what does it look like?" he said, taking some of the snacks he had hidden in the back of a bureau drawer and adding them to the pile of clothes. "I can't stay here while my family tries to turn me into an evil bloodsucking vampire." Damien slammed the lid shut and hauled the suitcase off his bed. "Promise you won't say anything to my parents."
"All right, but I don't think it will make any difference. You're forgetting that vampires are excellent trackers."
As Damien reached for the doorknob he replied over his shoulder, "And you're forgetting it's daytime. They can't follow me outside."
He crept down the stairs as quietly as possible with his burden. When he reached the castle door he pushed it open carefully, hoping it wouldn't creak and alert the others. It opened without making a sound and the afternoon sunlight streamed in, nearly blinding him. Damien quickly turned away as he shielded his eyes from the light. He had only been out of the castle on cloudy days to accompany Renfield on his errands, or at night with his parents. His mother and father always said that fresh air and sunlight were unhealthy for a growing vampire. They also wanted him to sleep during the day like a vampire should. Well he'd had enough. The normal world was waiting for him out there, and he was never coming back.
Summoning his courage, Damien picked up his suitcase and marched out of the castle's shadows and into the light beyond.
"If you did your job right there would be a new Grand High Vampire on the throne right now. Why isn't he dust?" the anonymous informant's voice growled through the phone Jonathan held in his hand. News of Vlad's death would spread quickly – if it had actually happened. But two nights had passed since he snuck into the castle and left behind his best stake-firing crossbow, and there wasn't any word of a tragedy befalling the Chosen One.
Jonathan had been afraid of this. It was one of the reasons why he preferred a direct attack where he could watch his quarry disintegrate in front of him. There was too much uncertainty in sneaking around and laying traps. "It's not that easy, all right?"
"You said it would not be a problem."
"Look, I told you I would slay him, and I will." Jonathan snapped the phone shut and shoved it back into his pocket.
Obviously a simple trap wasn't enough to dust Vlad. He would not have chosen that method if not for the informant insisting that he carry out his work in secret. The informant said it himself that Vlad was always accompanied by highly trained bodyguards, and there was no way of staking him while he slept in a locked coffin. But doing things the informant's way didn't work. Enough of stealth, he'd get a team and attack the castle with everything they had.
Pulling the phone out of his pocket again, he started dialing and then paused. Maybe there was a reason the informant didn't want him notifying the Guild. All previous Guild-backed attempts to slay the Grand High Vampire had failed miserably. The vampires always seemed to be one step ahead of the Guild, almost as if they knew exactly what the slayers were planning. After a moment's thought he erased the digits and typed in a different number before hitting 'send'. A woman's voice answered on the second ring. "Slayers Guild counterintelligence division."
"This is Jonathan Van Helsing, identification number 744039. I need everything you've got on a known human collaborator."
"Certainly, Mr. Van Helsing. May I have the name of the person you're looking for?"
"Robin Branagh."
On the train ride home from work Robin dropped into a seat next to the window and breathed a sigh of relief as he loosened his tie. His mind wandered as he watched the scenery pass by outside, inexplicably drawn to the subject which had occupied his thoughts for the better part of the past few weeks – Vlad. Despite telling himself that he wanted nothing more to do with Vlad, he still wondered what was going on up at the castle. Perhaps Vlad already went back to Transylvania. Robin was so lost in thought that at first he didn't pay any attention to the man who sat down in the empty seat across from him.
After a moment, the man said, "Well look who it is… Robin Branagh."
Robin turned his gaze towards man to find none other than Jonathan Van Helsing looking back at him with an arrogant smirk. It took a moment for Robin to recover from the surprise of seeing the slayer again, on the train of all places, to ask, "What are you doing here?"
"I'm on my way to Stokely, same as you."
"Why? You don't live there anymore." The Van Helsings left Stokely shortly after Vlad went off to Romania. Robin didn't know where the Van Helsings went, and he didn't care.
"I have some business to take care of."
"The same as your dad?"
"The same. In fact, it concerns your old friend Vlad," he said with a smug gleam in his eye.
"You mean you're going to—" Robin began, but remembering their surroundings, he stopped short of mentioning slaying. Casting a glance at the other passengers sitting nearby, he lowered his voice and said, "You were no match for him when he was a teenager. He is far more powerful now than he was then."
"So you're aware that he's returned."
"I am," Robin grimly replied.
Jonathan chuckled. "Something tells me the two of you have had a bit of a falling-out."
"I don't see how that is any of your business," he retorted.
Luckily for Robin, the train arrived at their stop before Jonathan could say anything else. He got off the train and quickly made his way out of the station, but Jonathan persistently trailed after him, catching up with Robin as he walked down the street. "What did he do this time? Bite your sister?"
"Leave me alone."
Falling into step beside Robin, Jonathan said, "Hey, I was just trying to be friendly. You don't want to talk about it, that's fine."
At this Robin stopped walking and turned to face him. "Why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?"
"I'm not stupid. You're trying to find out whether I'm still close to Vlad. What is it you want? To use me to get to him?"
Dropping his cheerful act, Jonathan's voice hardened as he said, "He has to die."
"Forget it. You're on your own."
Robin turned to leave, but Jonathan swiftly stepped in front of him, blocking his path. "So you would protect that monster?" he scoffed. "The stories I could tell you would make your skin crawl, and they're all true."
"Look Vlad and I w– are friends." Robin caught himself before he said 'were friends', but the slight upward twitch at the corner of Jonathan's mouth told him the slip had not gone unnoticed. "I don't care what you say about him, I would never betray him like that."
"Suit yourself," Jonathan said with a shrug. "It's too bad; you could have made a great slayer." Robin was about to disagree, but decided he was better off not saying anything at all. In the meantime Jonathan produced a business card from inside his coat along with a pen. "If you change your mind, you can find me here," he said as he scribbled an address on the back and held it out to Robin.
Even though he would prefer not to see Jonathan again, he reluctantly took the card, if only to get the slayer to go away. Robin wordlessly shoved the card in his pocket without reading it and stared back at him. After a moment Jonathan stepped aside to let him pass and Robin walked away without looking back.
Running away seemed like a good idea back at the castle, but without enough money for so much as a bus ticket Damien soon realized that it wouldn't be easy. After walking for a while he came across a quiet park dotted with trees and wooden benches, and decided to stop and rest. He was tired from lack of sleep and carrying the heavy suitcase. The sun was sinking lower in the sky as he sat on a bench and ate one of the chocolate bars he brought with him. The long shadows on the ground reminded Damien that it would be dark soon, and the other vampires would be waking up at any time. He wondered how long would it take for anyone to notice he was gone.
Stars were beginning to appear in the sky when he heard footsteps on the path and looked up to see a girl walking by herself. Her black clothes and pale skin made him wonder if she was also a vampire. She certainly looked like one of the undead, except she lacked the effortless grace that vampires seemed to radiate with every move. No, she was definitely a breather. She noticed Damien watching her and when she got closer she stopped and said, "Hey, that's my seat. I always sit there."
He blushed a deep red and replied, "I'm sorry, I didn't know."
"I was only joking," the girl said, sitting down on the other end of the bench. She looked Damien up and down appraisingly, her eyes pausing on the suitcase by his feet. "So what are you running from?"
"Excuse me?"
"You're out here by yourself at nightfall, with a suitcase. Either you've just arrived in Stokely – the most boring place on the planet – and got lost, or you're running away from something."
The breather girl's perceptiveness took him by surprise. "I'm running away," he admitted.
She grinned. "Knew it. So come on, tell me your story."
"I don't have a story," he replied, shifting awkwardly. There was no easy way to explain that he was running away from his vampire family in hope of leading a normal life.
But the girl was not dissuaded by his answer. "Of course you do. Something had to make you pack your stuff and go."
He shrugged. "I just needed to get away from my family. I don't fit in at home."
"I know what that's like."
"You do?"
"Sure I do. Believe me, if you met my family you'd know what I mean."
Damien had never met a real breather family before, but he had seen them when Renfield took him shopping. They didn't look anything like the girl sitting next to him, who looked more like a vampire than a breather, so maybe she did know how it felt to be the one who didn't fit in. "They wanted me to be like them, but I couldn't take it anymore," he explained. "I can't be what they want me to be so I left."
"Good idea. I'm thinking of trying it myself sometime, you know. Just pack up and leave," she said with a casual wave of her hand. "My perfect sister can live up to their expectations, but I can't. You don't have a sister, do you?"
"No."
"You're lucky. Mine is such a pain. We're the same age, so I can't even get away from her at school." She paused for a second to study his face again, then asked, "Do you go to Stokely Grammar? I don't think I've seen you there."
"My parents teach me at home. I'm Damien Clarke, by the way," he said, giving his father's surname.
"I'm Lucy. Lucy Branagh."
Branagh. The name sounded strangely familiar to Damien, though he couldn't remember where he had heard it before. "It's nice to meet you, Lucy."
"May I refill your glass, Master?" Renfield asked, bringing over the pitcher of blood to where Vlad sat at the head of the dining room table. Vlad nodded and lifted the crystal goblet in his hand so Renfield could pour.
"This is delicious," Ingrid purred, closing her eyes as she savored the contents of her own glass. "Earthy, with just a hint of spice."
Even Will muttered a "Very good", despite having barely spoken a word in Vlad's presence since their fight.
As Vlad drank he silently thought to himself that while the blood was still exceptionally rich, it had tasted even better the night before when it was hot and pouring from the breather's neck. Drinking a warmed glass of human blood was perfectly satisfying, but it always paled in comparison to the heavenly experience of drinking directly from the source.
Human blood made him physically stronger and enhanced his powers, but it also made him its slave because the hunger never went away for long. Sooner or later he always needed more blood. It was the one fight he would never win. Vlad decided it was better to surrender on his terms and drink as it suited him rather than to fight it until the bloodlust took hold, but it made no difference. There was always a small nagging thought telling him that he did have a choice, and he was simply too weak to resist temptation.
He had never killed a breather if he could avoid it… until last night. And this time he could not blame his actions on the hunger.
When he saw the breather's dark hair and fair skin, and looked into those brown eyes that reminded him so much of Robin, the anger he had been suppressing until then suddenly welled up from within him. Vlad found himself wanting to make the breather suffer for the misfortune of resembling the object of his rage. He wanted to bite the breather and drink until it was nothing but a dried-out corpse. So he did, imagining the whole time that it was Robin beneath his fangs.
His thoughts were interrupted by Ingrid's voice saying, "Renfield, go tell Damien to come down here and eat."
The grey haired servant obediently left to fetch the boy. Vlad glanced over at Damien's empty seat at the table. His nephew had yet to emerge from his room since running away in tears the night before. Damien's pathetic sobs had been difficult to ignore, but thankfully they didn't last. So maybe Vlad should not have killed the breather… he would not apologize for his actions, no matter how he felt about the kill. The Grand High Vampire doesn't have to apologize for anything.
Renfield soon returned to the dining room alone. Seeing that Damien was not with him, Ingrid snapped, "Well, where is he?"
"I'm sorry, Mistress Ingrid, but he is not in his room. The hellhound says he left the castle several hours ago."
"By himself? Where did he go?"
"I didn't ask, Mistress."
"Useless cockroach!" Pushing back her chair, Ingrid stood and threw her napkin down on the table before flitting from the room, with Will close behind.
Vlad decided to follow and a second later he was standing in what used to be his bedroom. He did not waste any time on nostalgia as he walked over to where Ingrid and Will stood with Zoltan.
Glaring down at the wolf, Ingrid asked, "Where is Damien?"
"I'm sorry Mistress Ingrid, but he asked me not to tell."
"I don't care what he asked you to do, you stubborn mutt. You answer us or I will rip out your stuffing and use it for kindling," Will threatened.
"That won't be necessary," Vlad said as he stepped forward. Will immediately moved aside to give Vlad space. "Zoltan, please tell us where he is."
Zoltan gave a reluctant whine and said, "I don't know, Master Vlad. He said he was running away."
"Why would he run away?" Ingrid asked.
Vlad had an idea of what caused Damien to flee, and apparently Zoltan did as well because the wolf looked directly at him, though he said nothing. "I think I know," Vlad said. "He saw me kill a breather last night."
Ingrid turned to stare at him in disbelief. "What?"
Ever since he stabbed Will, some small part of Vlad enjoyed seeing Ingrid's reaction to the fact that he was no longer afraid to get his hands dirty… or fangs, as the case may be. "Where do you think the blood you were just drinking came from? By the time I bit him, the human had already lost a lot of blood," he shrugged. "He would have died anyway."
"So that's why Damien was up here crying last night. I thought it was because we went out breather hunting," Will said, gesturing between himself and Ingrid.
"But we didn't kill our meal," Ingrid added, planting her hands on her hips and glaring at her brother. "This is all your fault. You said you would teach him to be more vampiric, not scare him away. What if something happens to him?"
It was clear to Vlad that beneath Ingrid's tough exterior she really was afraid for her son's safety. He liked Damien enough that he didn't want to see him hurt, but he was beginning to regret taking any responsibility for his nephew. "Don't worry, I'll find him," Vlad said to Ingrid. He turned and headed for the stairs where Nicolai waited on the other side of the door. As Vlad passed by he said, "Have Renfield get my cape. I'm going out."
"So are you really planning on staying here tonight?" Lucy asked as she looked around the deserted park. It was getting cold since the sun set and she was thinking of going back home. She felt bad leaving Damien alone in the park, and thought about inviting him to go with her. Maybe her parents would let him stay at their house for the night.
Damien shrugged. "I don't know where else to go. I've never been very far from the castle."
That couldn't be right. Everyone in Stokely knew the old castle had been abandoned many years ago. "Are you saying you live in Stokely Castle?"
A bat fluttered by overhead, causing Damien to suddenly gasp and jump to his feet. "You have to get out of here!"
"What? Why?" she asked, not getting up.
He grabbed Lucy's arm and pulled her off the bench. "It's my uncle, he's here!" Damien pushed her away. "Go!"
Startled by Damien's fearful reaction, Lucy ran for cover behind a large chestnut tree. She didn't hear anyone else in the park – how did Damien know his uncle was nearby?
Then she heard Damien shout, "Leave me alone!"
Lucy peered around the tree trunk and saw an older gothic teenager looming over Damien as he held him by the shirt collar. She did not see the second man standing in the shadows until he stepped into the moonlight, watching Damien and the goth teen from a respectful distance. He appeared to be in his late twenties and he wore black leather clothes and a long cape like the teen. Who were these people?
"Your parents and I were worried about you, Damien," the teen hissed. "Imagine our surprise when Zoltan told us you had run away."
"And I'm not going back. Let me go!" Damien twisted in his uncle's grasp, trying to get away without any success.
"Nice try," the teen said condescendingly as his nephew squirmed. "You're coming with us." To the man lurking nearby he said, "Get his things."
The other man reached out towards the suitcase and it immediately flew from its spot next to the bench into his hand. The teen rose off the ground and flew – literally flew – above the trees and away, taking Damien with him. The other man followed close behind them. When they were gone Lucy hurried out to where they had stood only moments ago and stared up between the trees at the patch of dark sky overhead, trying to make sense of what she had seen. But nothing made sense. People couldn't fly. It was impossible, unless they were superheroes or aliens or... vampires.
Stokely just got more interesting.
