The Twilight characters don't belong to me.

Big shout out to my Master Beta, Gondolier (her fic, Hydraulic Level 5 is all the rage!!!)

And to the Twilighted Betas (who are not too shabby writers, either) - they are a dedicated group of fanfiction goddesses (&gods?).

Ok, this chapter is the reason I rate this M…and it's not for sexual content –although I do like a little…- ok, enough rambling….consider yourselves warned….

Chapter 10

Edward Cullen

Day 10

The Romanian werewolves were as steeped in history as the others we'd encountered. Rich lore and tradition passed from father to son for countless centuries. And their memories were long. Much of the lost beginnings of our own species were preserved in the stories these men told their children around sacred bonfire ceremonies.

"Has the area burned recently?" Carlisle asked as they sun fell low in the sky. It had been the first partial sunny day we'd experienced since coming to this land and we had spent the afternoon lounging with Jakob and his two cohorts near the shore of a cool mountain spring. Strange we were more comfortable surrounded by our should-be enemies than at the castle.

We hadn't been allowed any nearer the village, but after the first time we'd met, only two other wolves accompanied their leader. And though it was always the same pair, they stood at a distance and only spoke to each other or Jakob, ignoring us entirely.

When Carlisle asked that particular question, the others' eyes fell on him. Jakob smiled in his easy way, but there was defensiveness behind those black eyes. With that simple question, a flood gate opened, and Jakob jumped in head first, revealing to us a history thick in legend, and undoubtedly based on truth.

"You wonder about your little hillside?" Jakob asked. "I was wondering when you'd ask.

"The simple answer is no, but that will not satisfy you, will it? That land burned one time throughout history," he told us, validating what we already knew. "And that was not in recent times."

He barked a laugh and his fellow pack members turned their heads, pointedly trying to ignore the conversation.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked your red-eyed friend. He would know much better than I."

"You're talking about the destruction of the Romanian coven?" I asked.

"What else could possibly set the countryside aflame?" He answered back with a wave of his hand.

"But it's only the hill-" Alice started, showing the first bit of interest in a week.

"No," Jakob's commanding voice interrupted, but Alice remained poised in attention as he went on. "The entire Transylvania Basin went up. The fire started at the castle and fanned out, stretching down the Borgo Pass to Moldavia. Nearly all of what was Wallachia burned to nothing. It was a desperate time for my people. The fires raged with unseen fury, destroying crops, livestock, homes. Other villages were simply lost in the flames." There was reverence in his tone that I couldn't help but respect. The more time I spent with him, the more I liked the man.

"When the winter snows finally smothered the flame, there was nothing to save. Everything was lost."

"But the hill is still burned," Alice interjected.

"Yes. It alone bears the marks of that tragedy," he agreed.

I decided blunt questions would be necessary if we desired a straight answer from him. "Why?"

"Ah," he sighed with a hint of a smile. "That is the question. For centuries it was attributed to the evil that happened on that mount. But now, we believe it is something else that keeps that land from thriving."

"And that would be…?" I tried to lead the conversation.

Jakob moved his black eyes to mine. "There is one thing that exists in this world that is so poisonous, so deadly, it tainted the land for eternity, just as it would human blood."

"Venom," Carlisle spoke in a whisper.

Jakob nodded. "Exactly. The blood of your kin spilled over that ground, turning the earth black with its disease. I don't think anything will thrive there again."

To say the least, we were shocked. Our venom was so poisonous it ensured death, either condemning a soul to life consumed with the insatiable thirst or the poison itself. Of all known diseases, the infliction vampires shared was the deadliest. It killed every single time. So it made sense that the blood spilled five hundred years ago still tarnished the soil where the atrocity had occurred.

"How did the whole thing happen then?" Alice prodded for more. It was her own curiosity that drove her questions.

I needed to know for another reason.

After a moment, he answered. "It is said they staked their own flesh to the earth and let the venom tarnish it. But, only the survivors could tell you what truly happened."

"Then the Volturi set the fire?" Carlisle wondered.

Jakob barked out his humorless laugh.

"The Romanians set fire to themselves."

"But, that doesn't make sense," Alice groaned, frustrated by the riddles.

"No? Tell me what you know of it, of your Draculean Prince?" We did not answer, because we knew nothing about Vladimir or his brother. Jakob had to know much more.

"He's mad," she eventually whispered in response.

"Both of them are," I agreed. "Who else would turn on their entire coven like that?"

"I want to know why," Alice said. "What was the purpose of destroying their own empire?"

"They served their own purpose," he told her gravely. "And there are only two who could answer what it was."

The heat shone off the stream of sparkling water, and the breeze moved the tree limbs just enough to allow the sun's warm rays to touch my arm. The prisms from my skin danced around us, shining off leaves and rocks. Jakob's brothers looked over at me, disgust evident in their faces, but their leader only smiled.

Day 11

We returned to the castle afterward. No one greeted us at the door. That in itself was off, as Stefan always found us in the hallway after our evenings with the wolves. This morning he'd been absent as we made our way to our rooms. Not that we'd paid any attention. Each of us had been completely absorbed with our own thoughts on what Jakob revealed.

But as the morning dragged on, I became slowly aware of the creepy little vampire's absence. Not sure if I meant to confront them on their version of what happened those long years ago, I began walking through the monstrous building, searching for him, blinded by my mind reading's inability to penetrate through the walls. I didn't have the slightest idea where to begin without that power at my disposal, so when I left Carlisle and Alice still lost to their thoughts, I began at the top.

The roof had been destroyed centuries ago, and the upper floors abandoned to the elements. There was no sign of movement, not even a spider hiding in the numerous cracks up there. I hesitated at a small door that opened onto a platform. It had probably once been a balcony of sorts. Perhaps this had been the master bedroom.

Ducking my head, I moved onto the free standing slab of stone. It was somewhat surprising that the old luxury still remained on the top of the place, but even more so that it supported my weight without the slightest tremor. From this vantage, I looked down the dead hill to the forest of ancient trees covering the valley like a guard of black skeletons, arms stretched toward me.

I lowered myself onto the platform and leaned my back against the weathered stone. What happened next was too bizarre for me to make sense of it.

Terror stabbed into my stomach, and a shudder ran through my body, starting at every point I touched the balcony. A pressing sadness rolled through me, and then it was over. The strange barrage of emotions slid away as swiftly as they'd come.

I was left shivering, breathing deeply, and completely perplexed at what happened. My fingers found my hair and pushed through the strands forcefully. I was on my feet and back through the door in an instant, just staring back out. Nothing about this place gave me a more intense feeling of dread than that. It had seemed nearly supernatural the way I felt helpless, cornered.

At that point, I had to avert my eyes. If I could help it, I'd never feel that panic again. Not to that degree. It was too much.

Completely uneasy, I made my way down the enclosed staircase to the lower, inhabitable rooms. There was still no sign of Vlad or his brother in the lower hallways. Alice and Carlisle were deep in whispered conversation, so I continued farther down, to the bowels of the castle.

No light penetrated here, and the darkness seemed to almost gain mass, becoming something solid I actually had to move through. Like a fog that absorbed light. A black hole. But it wasn't nearly as ominous as the balcony, so I moved through it, trying to ignore the increasing pressure against my chest as the blackness seemed to solidify with each inch lower. The walls pressed in on me, dozens of large, wooden crates lining the small hallways, making them tight and claustrophobic.

It was then I heard it. Lightly muffled, as if coming through some sort of fuzzy interference, the thoughts seeped into my head. It was Stefan.

Deliberately slowing my pace, I followed the thoughts closer. The hazy reception only cleared a little as I moved, but they became increasingly louder.

Squirm and wiggle, little friend. That's right.

I heard the sharp squeak echo from a door at the farthest point of the dungeons. I slowed even more. The scene inside that room slapped into me then, and I barely managed to hold in my disgust.

I had fed off the blood of animals for a century, and had, at one time, consumed even the smallest rodents. But what I saw playing through a truly sick mind, stabbed my gut. I was fighting the urge to either burst through the door and kill the twisted motherfucker, or get Carlisle and Alice and run away from here as fast as possible.

Sitting on an earthen floor in a dark cape, the white-haired ancient clapped his hands delightedly stabbing a thin twig into the soft mud beside him. Rivulets of crimson beaded down the wood, staining it. A fat brown rat wiggled and strained against the other end. It had been pierced through the middle by the end sharpened to a razor point. The struggles and panic of the creature only skewered it further.

The torture was unnecessary, horribly sick, and I was finally able to sever away from the demented mind. Turning, I hit a wall. The darkness turned velvet, impossible to see anything. I stood less than a second, shocked, before I understood.

It wasn't a wall at all.

He crept behind me, mind completely closed, so silently that I hadn't felt the air even stir at his approach. Now, the eyes colored with fresh blood met mine and stared into me. They were narrowed, giving my only clue to his anger. His thoughts were blocked. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, but my own flight response kicked in. I was messing with a castle full of nut jobs. The best chance was to get the hell out of this place.

As if in response to my whirling thoughts, a tight sneer curled the corner of his mouth. It was condescending, arrogant, like he had expected to corner me like this.

It wasn't easy to repress the shudder this time, but the door creaked open, filling the deathly silence with an ear piercing shriek of aged metal. It was frighteningly similar to the squeals of the rat. With one madman behind me and another staring me down, it was exactly how I felt: like a cornered rat, and these cats had an extremely screwed-up sense of playtime.

"Vhat have ve here?" Stefan questioned from behind, his cold breath raising an icy shiver across my skin.

A pale, wrinkled hand settled on my shoulder. It might have been one of succor, but the pressure of his grip assured me otherwise. I groaned running over my options. There weren't many. Though I was sure Stefan would be dealt with swiftly, Vladimir was a different story entirely. It was hard to ignore the smug confidence and overall sense of power that oozed from him. I wasn't even sure Emmett's super-inhuman strength would be a match for him. I'd likely be easily taken in a fight.

"Young Edward here was looking for us, I think," Vlad answered without bothering to hide the burning hatred he now wore openly.

"Really?" the elderly brother asked, intrigue raising his tone. He always seemed so damned happy. The sudden urge to rip the laughter from his chest boiled through me.

Vlad tsked, moving quickly and throwing a long arm over my shoulder. Instinctively, I tried to shrug away, but his fingers pressed painfully into my flesh and led me away from Stefan, who remained too quiet as we retreated.

"It is not polite to eavesdrop," Vlad hissed as we walked.

I felt it best to hold my tongue, so we continued in silence.

He led us to a crack in the wall. It was so slender, we had to turn and enter sideways. Inside, though, it opened enough for me to walk through the rough hewn tunnel. With only the sound of our feet sliding across the smoothed ground, I was goaded further by the flesh and blood nightmare floating behind me. I could almost hear the excitement emanating from him. It was possibly the worst kind of demoralization I could have endured, but we hadn't reached the end of this, yet.

He'd ruled our kind with ferocity never seen again. Outside the calm and intellectual exterior lay the worst kind of monster: cold, cunning, and crazed. It was right to fear him.

The tunnel opened out into a small hand dug cave. The damp earth smelt of rotten meat and dirt. The ground had recently been disturbed. Two pairs of distinct footsteps led out of the mire. After taking it in, I turned to face him, Vladimir Tepes, Dracula, the Dark Prince, and known by countless others.

He lurked at the mouth of the opening, seemingly larger now than ever. His eyes watched with a dull fascination. As I faced him, the sneer turned into a full smile showing his pointed teeth. His eyes flashed dark for a moment, and his mind opened.

The ferocity with which his memories hit me knocked me sideways and I stumbled, letting my knees find their way to the soft mud with a thud. My hands pushed against my eye sockets, willing myself not to see, but there was nothing I could do to stop it.

It was a mixture of past experiences woven with something like premonitions of the future. Horrifying things swirled between fiery landscapes and sharpened stakes. Only one thing remained constant.

The snarl that ripped through my throat was vicious. He was taunting me, with corners of red lips turned into a wicked sneer. To what end, I was unsure. He'd led me to the very depths of his home and forced me to live through a battery of sick, twisted memories. My knees buckled, even though I was already on the ground.

Vlad laughed aloud, the sound ringing and echoing in the cave like a demented chorus of fallen angels. He could sense my distress.

"You have no idea who I am," he snarled.

"I'm not scared of you," I lied with defiance.

His gleaming smile pierced the dark room.

"You really shouldn't have said that."

A/N: Now, if that honestly didn't make you a little queasy, your world is far darker than my own…I'm sorry…

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