Robin ducked as another book flew through the air, nearly hitting him in the head. Chloe was bent at the waist, rummaging around a low, dusty shelf; every so often, she barked out an order, and Vlad did his best to comply.

Chloe hadn't yet said what she was looking for, but he knew better than to press the issue. After all, they were desperate.

A few minutes later, Chloe emerged clutching a fat, leather-bound tome. "Mm-hmm," she chortled, crossing to a nearby desk and pushing papers and quills aside before sitting primly on a nearby velvet-lined chair. The book hit the table with a loud 'thud'.

She opened the brown cover with worshipful fingers, caressing each page as she turned it and ignoring the room's other occupants completely.

She paused after a minute of searching, her face screwing up, and sneezed twice.

"Bless you," Vlad said politely.

Robin was shuffling from foot to foot. "Is there anything we can do?" he asked, drumming his fingers on the back of her chair.

"Yes: be quiet," Chloe advised, hardly sparing him a glance.

Robin scowled, looking put out as he sat on a small wooden chair opposite his sister and began playing with the amulet absentmindedly; rotating the rings of metal this way and that, pausing every so often to sigh dramatically.

Vlad tuned him out and stared at Chloe's blond head instead, wondering what she was thinking.

He'd always known she was a genius, but had never fully appreciated just how bright she was for her age. He doubted he would have been able to study advanced differential calculus at fourteen. He was happy to see her in the castle again, although perhaps not under the circumstances. As it was, she wouldn't even be here in the first place if it wasn't for the mess he and Robin had gotten themselves into.

Vlad was distracted from his thoughts as he spotted something glittering in the soft candlelight. Robin was twisting the thick chain of the amulet between his fingers, squinting at it with a calculating expression. Vlad opened his mouth, but before he could comment Robin had lifted the whole thing above his head so he could examine the amulet more closely.

"Put that back on!" Vlad ordered, retreating to the opposite end of the room with wide eyes. "It's not safe. Chloe, tell him."

"What? I'm still holding it."

Chloe looked up from her reading long enough to glare at the both of them. "Be quiet, you two, I'm trying to read." She returned to her book. "Robin, stop being an idiot and put it on."

Robin scowled again. "What's the big deal? I just want to get a closer look." He pulled at the thin wires encasing the gem, attempting to pry them open. "I think the stone might come out…."

Vlad growled. "Don't! We don't know how it works."

"…Oops." The gem popped out from between the wires, falling into his palm. About the size of a pea, the stone glittered in the torchlight.


"Robin!" Vlad yelled. Chloe stood, walking around the desk. Her face had gone a faint shade of purple.

"What did you do?" She demanded. "Vlad, stay back. No biting."

Vlad scoffed, "I'll see what I can do," though he had enough sense to look contrite when Chloe shot him a look."I won't, okay?"

"Robin, give me your garlic spray," she said testily, and Robin handed it over without a word. "Shut your eyes and mouth." At his look of protest, she affirmed, "Just do it." Robin obeyed, allowing Chloe to spray every inch of him. Vlad held his sleeve to his nose, holding his breath.

"Ugh," he groaned in distaste. "You smell hideous, Robin."

"That's the point," Chloe said as she sprayed herself as well. Satisfied, she snatched the gem from Robin's hand.

"Hey!"

Chloe stuck out her chin. "You can't be trusted with it. I'm going to hold onto it until I've worked out a way to transfer its magic to you."

Vlad lowered his arm. "Is that the plan, then?" His eyes widened. "Did you find something?"

"…Not yet," Chloe said, clearly biting back an obviously. "But I think Robin had the right idea. If we can find a way to make the effects of the amulet stick, even in the absence of the physical necklace, then…."

"Then the Van Helsings can't get their mitts on it, and Vlad can keep biting me," Robin cut in, grinning. "That's genius." At Chloe's thunderous expression, he amended, "You. You're a genius."

"Necklace," she said witheringly, and Robin obeyed, handing over the rest without another word. "According to Magicke Artifacts, there have been others who have successfully repossessed the power of magical jewelry and transferred it to themselves. But apparently, none of them were particularly keen on spilling their secrets." She sighed, grabbing the tome off the desk and stashing in her bag. "I'm going to keep looking. There's loads of historical references in here about sorcerers who have managed to extract power from stones, so I think it's fairly common practice…."

But Vlad had stopped listening. He'd simply been through too much in the last twenty-four hours to grapple with the complexities of magical metallurgy.

The exhaustion must have shown on his face, because Robin stopped Chloe with a hand. "Vlad needs to go to bed."

Vlad blinked, shaking his head. "It's still nighttime, I can't sleep yet." He hid a yawn behind his hand.

Chloe checked her wrist. "It's nearly seven. Robin's right, we should be getting home." She eyed Vlad warily. "Are you going to be all right if we leave?"

Vlad fidgeted under the weight of their combined stares. "I'm not going to off myself while you're gone, if that's what you're getting at."

Robin looked relieved, and Chloe nodded. "Fair enough. Come on, Robin." She grabbed his hand, leading him to the door.

Vlad held his breath as they passed, recoiling as the stench of garlic burned at his nose and eyes. Robin threw a concerned look over his shoulder when they reached the doorway, which Vlad returned.

"Let me walk you out, at least," Vlad tried. "What if you run into Ingrid?"

Chloe waved the bottle of garlic spray in his direction. "We'll be fine," she assured him. "I'll work on this some more tonight, and let you know if I find anything useful."


Vlad sighed wistfully. The door swung shut—only to be opened again a moment later.

"Chloe? I—Oh. Will?" Vlad looked at him, surprised. "Where's Ingrid? I thought the two of you were inseparable."

"Usually, yes." Will smiled, leaning his arm against the doorway. "I was hoping you and I could have a little chat."

Vlad cocked his head, considering it. "Maybe later," he said at last. "I've been up all day—I think I should lie down for a while."

He made to leave, but Will's arm blocked his path. Vlad frowned; he was not in the mood for an argument. "Please—"

"I know that you drank the breather's blood," Will interjected, and Vlad froze.

He stared, at a loss for words. "I…"

Will shook his head. "I'm not going to tell anyone," he said, and his voice was earnest. Vlad wanted to believe him.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Will shrugged. "I won't say anything, not even to Ingrid. I give you my word. I just want to know how Robin's still human."

Vlad became, if possible, even paler at his words. "I really, really don't…"

Will raised an eyebrow. "I smell blood on him, but he's not cut anywhere. I know it's his blood—O negative, I believe? I caught a whiff of that so-called soya substitute. I'm sure it's his."

Vlad shrank in on himself. "The cut was healed magically," he hedged, not meeting Will's eyes. It was partly true.

Will seemed to sense this wasn't the whole story, but to Vlad's relief, he dropped his arm. "Fine. I believe you," he said, lowering his voice. "Though you might want to have Robin change his shirt next time. Ingrid is bound to notice if I did."

Vlad nodded, unable to look him in the eye as he passed. When Will had gone, he checked both ways, before making his way to the crypt to retrieve his coffin.

Back at his tower bedroom door, he rested his head against the wood. He stood like that for several minutes, the events of the past few hours swimming behind his eyelids.

Eventually, he opened the door and slipped inside.


He turned, surprised to find Zoltan milling about by the window. For some reason, he was wearing a large, ruffled pink dress. Vlad set his coffin down in the center of the room, and crossed his arms.

"Zoltan, where in the world have you been?" Vlad asked, his voice accusing. "Do you have the slightest idea how much crap I've been through the past few days? I turned." He sniffed. "What are you wearing?"

Zoltan looked about as abashed as it was possible for a stuffed hellhound to look.

"I'm sorry, Master Vlad," he simpered. "Your sister tied me up and threw me in the dungeons. She said my 'judgy pestering' was getting on her nerves." He sniffed. "I suppose it could have been worse. Renfield eventually heard my lonely howls and came to free me from my prison. But not before dressing me up like this."

Vlad felt a stab of guilt. "I'm sorry for not coming to look for you," he replied. "Here, let me help."

After a minute of struggling, they managed to extricate the wolf from the horrid lacy garment. Vlad clutched it in his fist, concentrating. He grinned smugly as the dress burst into flames. The two of them watched as the blaze engulfed the fabric.

"I've had a rotten couple of days," Vlad admitted, at last.

Zoltan's eyes glittered. "Tell me everything."

And so, he did.

The words took him by storm, and once he had begun, he found he couldn't stop. He poured into the sordid tale all his misery during the transformation, describing his hope and relief over finding a blood substitute, and subsequent despair after discovering that Ingrid had tricked him into drinking Robin's blood. He told of the crippling hunger, and the horrible longing to drain his best friend dry.

He even told him about the amulet, and about biting Robin; how it had felt so good, and so terrifying, to finally give in to his cravings.

Zoltan, as always, was a prodigious listener. He never once interrupted or asked questions that Vlad couldn't answer.

After what felt like hours, but was probably more like thirty minutes, Vlad stopped, finally spent; he opened his coffin and clambered inside, crossing his arms over his chest. He was more tired than he could remember being in recent memory.

"Zoltan?" Vlad asked after a minute or so of silence. "Can I tell you something?"

"I thought you already vere?"

Vlad laughed. "True. It's just…." he rolled onto his side. The coffin was surprisingly comfortable.

Now that he wasn't distracted by hunger, he might even be able to enjoy it.

"There's something else," he started, unsure how to begin.

But Zoltan had always been more perceptive than he looked. "You are vondering vat to do about your feelings for Robin," he quietly observed.

After a long minute of tense silence, Vlad answered. "Yes."

Zoltan exhaled. "I'm afraid you vill haf to make that decision for yourself."

"I thought you'd say that," Vlad muttered, closing his eyes. He yawned. "I think…."

"…Yes?" Zoltan inquired. But when he rolled to the edge of the coffin, it was to find his young companion fast asleep.


Not for the first time, Zoltan dearly wished he had hands, so that he could close Vlad's lid and let him rest.

He lingered by the coffin covers. After a while, his thoughts were interrupted by a low voice near the window.

"Hello, wretched beast."

Zoltan's tail puffed in fear, and he scrambled backward as the Count approached Vlad's coffin from the opposite side. He stared down at his son's sleeping figure with an unusually pensive look. He may only have caught the tail end of their conversation, but he'd heard enough.

What Ingrid had been insinuating all these years was true: Vlad did care for the breather, as more than just a friend. He and Vlad would have to have a long talk about that, later. But even the Count could see the heavy circles under his son's eyes.

He would let him sleep. For now.

The worst of the Count's anger had subsided over the past several hours, but it bothered him deeply that Vlad still refused to consider drinking blood, even from animals.

He knew that his son was in the midst of an identity crisis. He wasn't stupid—he knew full well that Vlad had never wanted to be a vampire. But the Count also knew that self-denial was unsustainable, even with the best of intentions. He had hoped the transformation would change his son's mind about the whole abstinence idea, though it obviously had done little to deter him.

He worried for what might happen to his son's health, should he continue to practice this foolish vegetarianism. Even his brother Ivan had given into temptation after a few short decades. And how nutritious could a substitute made from plants—he shuddered at the thought—really be for a growing vampire?

"Zoltan," he demanded, and the hellhound's hackles raised as he glared down at the beast. "Make sure no one else disturbs him. Send him to my quarters as soon as he awakens."

He waved his hand, and the lids to Vlad's coffin closed with a gentle thud.

Zoltan bowed his head. "Very well." The Count stalked to the door, which swung open immediately to let him through.

He dearly hoped he could get the boy to see reason.