Disclaimer: I do not own Young Dracula, though I did make up a few background characters that are ALL MINE BABY!
I am SO SORRY for this being so late, it was a combination of Technological Purgatory [Parental-Internet-Ban] and a loss of where I was going with the story...
Again, sorry; please enjoy...
Chapter 11: Down Comes Baby, Cradle & All...
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Something was definitely missing, there was a lingering space to the family that nothing any could think of would fill; even the elusive child that flashed into many a mind could not be fully recognized before some, previously-unimportant, fact or ridiculous statement about whatever first caught the speaker's mental eye, and spouted from unwilling lips. Just this morning the school had rung, asking after the welfare of some boy whose name he could never truly remember now; Elizabeth had spent a half-hour chatting vaguely about knitting patterns before the Receptionist had hung up on her.
Shortly after, it took the family by surprise to find two tall, rather muscular Policemen standing on their front porch, stern expressions giving the impression they had just been forced to eat something unmentionable in polite society… Constables Brackwater and Furst had been exceptionally insistent that they sight the boy, whose name constantly fell from memory like melted butter on warm crumpets, seeping away through cracks and holes…
"Sir we are going to have to insist we see your son, one…" Constable Brackwater flipped open his notebook with an authoritarian gesture, "…Robin Branaugh. Otherwise, would you care to explain his sudden disappearance? Apparently, when the school rang and his whereabouts brought into question, your wife simply answered with inane fervor about arts and crafts…suspicious behavior sir, now please, show us to his room." Mr Branaugh blinked, thinking really hard, and being rewarded with a light-bulb moment…
"Oh yes, I remember now! You'll have to be rather quiet, he's in his room, a tad poorly…" his finger made the universal gesture for quiet and led them up the stairs; a look passed between the two Officers from behind his back, something along the lines of, 'Something's wrong here…' and 'He's a Space Cadet…'
They reached the top and wandered down the corridor; Police Officers striding, the other dreamily leading them as though in a trance, the instant his hand touched the doorknob, Mr Branaugh flipped back around and started to talk about Radishes…
Brackwater and Furst had had enough, with the former pushing the blathering man sharply out of the way, Furst turned the knob and stared at the stark emptiness of it all…not a thing, bar the furniture and sheets on the bed, were left. Correction, the sheets strewn from the bed to the door, as if someone was dragged away, resisting fiercely; fighting to be free…he wheeled about and stared to his colleague with a faint, officious nod.
"Sir, would you and your wife mind coming down to the station to answer a few questions about the whereabouts of Robin?" Brackwater asked politely, the man blinked, "Certainly, but…who is Robin?" the genuine confusion on his face was rather puzzling for the officers, but all the same, they frog-marched the man from the house. Mrs. Branaugh was dragged away from the washing up rather forcefully; both animatedly chatting about teapots as they were loaded into the van…
The morning was crisp, fog filtering about and obscuring the sun; still, though, several bleary-eyed children appeared in the doorway with confused gazes locked on the officers…the youngest -a girl who bore the look of one much older- with the most querulous expression on her face either man had ever seen, "Excuse me, but under what Legal obligation are you escorting my mam and dad from their residence at this ridiculous time of morning?" she asked, stunning the pair.
Twin boys to either side of her and much older, backed the query with a very sincere, "Yeah!" in unison; Brackwater took it upon himself to answer, "We are simply taking your parents downtown to the station to have a nice little chat about your brother, Robin…have any of you seen him recently? And why are you not at school?" The girl wrinkled her nose, "Robin…? I- haven't seen him since…did you know Krypton is actually a gaseous element on the Periodic Table and not just some glowing green rock fragment of an exploded planet from the Superman Comics?" She blinked, "Oh, yes…well the reason we aren't at school, is simply that the teachers are having an emergency meeting over Mr Van Hellsing…he showed up to work all bloody and injured, screaming out vengeance against some students…so they sent us home, and I was trying to get through my Calculus Homework."
Furst was nodding, recalling the frantic whine of an ambulance siren as it sped through town that morning, several of the morning shift officers had been called to restrain some crazy man swearing vengeance on his son, threatening to kill two other students and trying to convince them all that there were Vampires living in the town…Hah, what a ludicrous idea! Vampires, right…and it rained Jellybeans every Thursday… A thought struck him. Come to think of it…
"Dave, I just thought of something!" he pulled the other man to the side and mentioned in a low voice, "Remember the crazy guy Martin and Frank were telling us about? What three names was he yelling over and over again?" Constable Brackwater thought hard a moment before replying, "He was yelling about his son, Jonathan Van Hellsing, some kid named Vlad Dracula and…" the prolific Light-Bulb Moment occurred, "…-and Robin Branaugh! Oh Gods, you don't think he did anything to them, do you?" Furst looked grim, "Well, we'll just have to find out then…won't we? Come on, let's get this lot to the station…either we question them or give them the bad news…"
Striding back from around the van, both officers closed the back of their Paddy wagon, waved to the kids and slipped into the front seats, driving away with lights flaring, siren on and all possible urgency…
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Was he supposed to be this weak? It felt like something important was missing, his knees shook and his dead heart was quivering from some strange sense of exertion, but he would never say it… Dark eyes glanced over the form of Ingrid, who was by his side, her eyes fixed on the Boy on the table. He didn't even need to look to see where Will was, it was an almost instinctual knowledge where he and Ingrid were…but still he did; if only to void the image of the lifeless Robin upon the table, and equally dead looking Vlad, slumped by a wall.
Of course, Vlad was technically already dead, but he could still 'die' in the sense of ceasing existence…and if the tense mood so thick in the room's atmosphere was any indicator, that was fast becoming a distinct possibility… Neither stirred, but for the faint stirring of breath in Robin's lungs; he found himself mirroring the action from a combination of hope, fear and instinctual habit…his eyes discerned the faintest of pulses from where it beat in Robin's throat…
The strange sense of hunger and longing that rushed through his body like adrenaline at the thought of biting someone was dampened when his mind registered it was Robin, you didn't bite family; Ingrid had drilled that into him…although, truth be told, it was more an unspoken thing that came with the turning…he felt no desire to bite Robin. Someone else, anyone else, yes…but not anyone in this room, living or dead… Well, maybe Ingrid, or even Will…which was permissible, as they were his Sires…and was a usual custom for gaining strength, but otherwise, no…
An intensely interested stare was meeting another in the center of his shoulder blades, he didn't need to turn to guess who they were; and then he mentally cursed, rather loudly, he'd forgotten Vampires could read the thoughts of others or certain mortals…they'd just heard every bit of his musings…and probably him thinking this. So they were hearing his thinking about him thinking about their thoughts on his thinking about-…he groaned and clutched his head. If he thought about it too hard, he actually felt a headache forming…so he abandoned the whole idea in favour of watching the Count pace back and forth like a caged panther…black, sinewy body stretched out and constantly moving, a hand tapping at the pale chin in thought.
"Here…" something white and glowing in the gloom appeared below his range of vision and fast encroached…a bare wrist, it was Ingrid's. "Well, you were thinking about it, weren't you? Don't worry, it's normal, all Bloodlings both need and crave that of their Sires…and judging from the way you're trembling, I should have thought of it earlier… I'd send you back to your coffin, but I have a feeling you'd just sneak back out…" A rare, genuine smile graced her beautifully bloodless features, then she turned back to Will, "but you are so, totally, doing the day-feeds. I need my beauty sleep…" and the other laughed.
Jonathan hesitated a moment, then slipped his fangs into her cold, dead flesh, which held the most precious of liquids…as Ingrid continued to insinuate that he would wake up crying out and hungry, or just needing comfort, sometime [or numerous times] during the day, and require Nursery Rhymes (Vampire Style) to be sung; Will looking on with a bemused expression…
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Everywhere throbbed, that was what he could tell, could sense; Vlad stirred fitfully against the pain emanating from the other mind, but did not wake…at first. He was startled to consciousness as his father yelled, "Quiet!" at the figures across the room, all three froze and slunk back to the safe haven of the shadows to their rear. Choking in surprise for a moment, he jolted upright and let a wave of fear crash over him…then shoved it aside with some significant mental force, before letting calm seep over him. Letting down the loose mental barrier he had erected, he allowed the sensation of calm to crossover to Robin, who was twitching fretfully and looking worse by the moment…one look at the wound told him no amount of healing spit he, or any other present, could conjure would fix it…
Something also told him his father had had the exact same idea, encountered the issue and then dismissed it out of hand; the knife had gone in too far, too deep, and come out in such a jagged manner that any sort of rapid healing would simply glue things back together loosely and incorrectly… He pounded a fist into the floor, earning the surprised gaze of all in the room, but before anyone could say anything at all, he had made his way to Robin's side and was gazing down with his dead heart fluttering…
Again, he felt the guilt, nay, the overwhelming sensation that was his conscience screaming out that he, Vlad Dracula, was solely responsible for his best –and only- friend's imminent demise, and then it was gone; and the pale barely breathing body beneath his gaze was muttering something… he bent down to hear. "Stop it…not your fault…my choice…"
Even dying, the other was trying to assuage his guilt, it was ridiculous; Vlad felt he should be the one offering comfort, but it was as if his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth, or his brain was on holiday…for, all of a sudden, his mind was blank and words would not come. His father came to stand beside him, gripping the shoulder tightly, "Vlad, there's only one way to save him…you have to kill your little friend, though…" the Count didn't voice what they were all thinking. There was a chance it wouldn't work, most successful turnings required at least a partly-healthy Breather to begin with, and Robin was near dead…
Still, if there was a chance, they had to try…
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"For the last time, Mr Van Hellsing, what did you do with the children?" yelled Constable Brian Furst, striding back and forth like a lion, if he'd had one, his tail would be flicking a warning to whoever beheld it… Constable David Brackwater watched his partner carefully, simultaneously keeping an eye on the prisoner shackled to the interrogation table and making certain the other officer didn't go too far… Judges looked poorly on misconduct even in the most vile of cases…
This Van Hellsing fellow was bandaged about the forehead and wrists, bruises lined his jaw and arms, though you wouldn't have been able to tell normally…except that they had confiscated his leather jacket the moment he had been dragged to the station. Good job too, there had been the most startling array of wooden stakes, canisters of what looked to be water, crucifixes and knives…a worrying development in the case of the missing boys… Religious fanatics were always the most gruesome of murderers…they didn't hold much hope of finding the boys alive…
If they only knew how close to the truth they really were…
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Someone was breathing hard, close to his ear…their cold aura was projecting itself out towards him; the only person in the entire castle who took to breathing when they got emotional was Vlad, so he surmised it was, indeed, Vlad…in a right panic too, by the sound of it…and the sensation. A cold hand brushed past the fire in his arm, and he flinched…shrinking away… dimly he heard someone whispering an apology; stroking his forehead, like his mother did when he was little, with a fever. To be honest it was so hot and cold at the same time his body couldn't seem to make up its mind which was which…his face was flushed with the fire in his arm and shoulders, but everywhere else was alternately made of ice or lava, for it coursed and burned in waves.
The hand was like ice, and he loved the sensation, he was sure there were small clouds of steam rising from his forehead right now…like in the cartoons…maybe he should make a quip about frying an egg there? He coughed, it was harsh and grating against his throat…which felt raw from screaming so loudly before; alright, maybe he'd save the wise-cracks for later… Five voices laughed all the same; he was puzzled an instant, then realization sunk in… oh right, Vampire Telepathy or whatever they called it…
"I could send Renfield for a few eggs…" mused the Count's voice, he felt his eyes flicker open in surprise at the suggestion, he'd only been joking… "Ah, there you are, I thought that might wake you properly…Vlad has a proposal for you." There was a muted, "I knew it!" from Ingrid, and stifled laughter… He looked to a nervously hand-wringing Vlad and laboriously raised an eyebrow, smiling wanly he whispered, "Oh Vlad, I don't know what to say, I didn't know you felt that way about me!" His high, strained, but obviously off-key female voice helped to lighten the ominous mood that had descended on them all like a heavy fog. Co-incidentally, there happened to be a magnificently sun-obscuring fog outside the house, dark clouds brooding across the skyline from the night before… a wonderful day for anyone of their persuasion…
Vlad rolled his eyes, "How can you joke about something like that at a time like this…? I swear, you'd be making Nazi's-riding-Dinosaur jokes during the Apocalypse…if I let you, but I won't!" They laughed at the private joke, for they'd stolen a certain DVD set from the Branaugh Twin's room…and the Count had caught them, then praised the pair for being evil! He honestly was the coolest Dad EVER…if his own had found out, he'd never have sat down again…if he'd lived…
The Count cleared his throat, "My Coolness aside, it's about living that we'd like to speak to you…" Robin felt his eyes sparkle, then the world took on that frighteningly awesome purple tinge as he felt his mouth move, "Three are missing, three must die; Two are long past breath, to save them all the last must feel the pangs of death… Van Hellsing, enemy, sits in custody though not for long… The police will charge him with murder, if only they can find the bodies…" He sank back, exhausted and weak, but the rather worrying sparkle had returned to the Count's eyes, and he turned away to think upon the 'prophecy'…
Although, Robin was pretty sure if he started spouting "Row, Row, Row your Boat" in the same tone, he'd probably end up with a Vampire Navy…maybe he should try that some time… Whoa, since when was the room spinning? He shut his eyes against it all, Vlad leant closer to whisper in his ear, "Robin, I-…look, you have a choice…we can take you to a hospital or something…but the nearest one's in the next town… or…or I could...turn you. I have to warn you though, Dad thinks there's a chance you might…well, die…and not in a 'first step to Vampire resurrection' kind of way. More permanent…it's because you're injured, and I've never done it before…and…" He was stalling for time, Robin could feel it, but smiled and a weak, pale hand reached up a fraction to grab the wrist trailing by the table at hip-level…
"I trust you, I'm going to die anyway…go ahead…" he replied, and tilted his head back with great effort… Vlad's emotions went crazy, most of all flustered and full of fear, "I…if you're sure…" his wrists were taken in a firm grasp and suddenly there were fangs piercing the delicate flesh of his throat…
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Words of the prophecy flared in his mind like small candles in the dark, shattering and re-arranging in many a different combination until a plan began to form, the message was clear! Like the light being thrown on in a room full of Vampires, the greatest obstacle they had ever known was slowly being disintegrated before his very eyes… Whirling about in a flurry of cloaks to inform the others of his marvelous genius, he paused and smiled toothily in pride as his son took his first bite…but there was worry also, the Count frowned. What a day to be discovering he cared…
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Struggling to keep his emotions in check as Robin gasped dryly and writhed, momentarily shocked at the sensation of Vlad's fangs buried in his flesh, before exhaling softly in a warm sort of inexplicable pleasure. Even so, Vlad maintained a firm grasp on his friend's wrists, just in case he flailed; the rapid heartbeat was surging blood into his mouth with every pump…though gradually, it slowed…he felt Robin growing weaker and weaker under his hands…
It was a desperate fear that beat in his chest, negating the useless heart already there…what if he got it wrong, what if…? So many things could go wrong, and so many right…he tried hard to remember all those ridiculous 'biting lessons' his father had put him through… Surprised that they had actually come in handy for something…it was like Maths, he supposed, long and tedious to learn, but needed in everyday [or should that be everynight?] real life like oxygen for breathers…
Strength coursed through his body as Robin's blood chased itself through his veins, surging for the first time since…since he'd given up life to save his family just a handful of nights ago… It was an exhilarating, and terrifying sensation, no wonder the Count was addicted to it! At the same time, the stilling of the form below him was worrying…when did he stop? There wasn't a huge amount of blood left in the taller boy, having bled freely for so long, and he could feel the surge slowing down…there was barely a beat in the heart below him, more a murmur…the breath nothing more than the faintest puff…
"Give it back now," instructed the cold voice of Ingrid, an expert after two successful turnings apparently…he wrenched the sleeve off of one wrist savagely with his mouth, exposing the pale skin and biting unreservedly into his own flesh…blood that was probably Robin's own came dribbling out. He frantically placed it to the parted lips and let it trickle as best it was able into the other's mouth…too slow, was it working? How did he know?
His other hand was holding Robin's wrist so tight, if he had had any blood left, it would have been cutting off the circulation…the Count circled behind and made an approving noise in the background. His chest constricted slightly from fear…but he supposed that –as he still technically 'lived'- so did Robin, because the alternative was him poofing into dust or something… Then Robin shuddered and went still, his heart fell out of his chest in that same, strange sensation he had felt after accepting his reflection…and for some reason, that gave him hope; it meant it was working!
…didn't it?
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TBC...
Second-Last Chapter down, I know, getting exciting right?
Hold onto your Fangs, people! I'm nearly finished the next chapter, which is called:
Chapter 12: It's the Final Countdown...
PLEASE REVIEW!^^
