Chapter 12: The Forgetful Page

Herbert-

When Herbert woke he was absolutely starving. He felt like he hadn't eaten in a week, like his stomach was trying to turn itself inside out from the hunger. He hadn't been so hungry in years, not since he'd gone into service at the Emperor's palace where even servants ate well.

He could hear the howling of wind and the steady sound of falling rain.

He opened his eyes, but didn't see the familiar dark ceiling of the room he shared in the servant's quarters of the palace. He saw a thatched roof. Herbert frowned at the roof even as he realized he wasn't in his bed. He was on the floor. The dirty floor. And there was a boy… no. A young man. He was just a bit too old to be a boy, but small and thin.

Herbert felt a stirring of fear in his stomach. He had no idea how he'd gotten to such a place or who the stranger was. He'd been kidnapped. How? Herbert stared at the stranger – small and cute as a bunny rabbit – and wondered why he'd been taken. There was always a reason for such crimes, but he didn't know the stranger so it couldn't be personal and he had no wealth so it couldn't be for a ransom. He felt quite ill as the little man stared at him. He was only thankful that the little man watched him with earnest concern for that was much preferable to anger or greed or even disinterest. Compassion meant Herbert had a chance to talk his way out of the situation and get back to the palace. He couldn't underestimate the little man – he could looked harmless, but be stark-raving mad. He could be armed. Herbert suddenly found that he could hardly breathe from fear. He tried to force himself to stay calm, but it didn't work very well.

The young man was dressed in a very strange fashion, but Herbert knew better than to say anything. It wasn't his place to make comments, after all. He'd worked for years in the palace of the Emperor and had seen more outlandish fashions come and go as the courtiers all tried to outdo one another and gain as much attention as possible. There was always a lot of tongue-biting to keep his comments to himself. Herbert's kidnapper, however, wore a strange, but simple, style of clothing. The coat looked new while the trousers were threadbare and worn near through on the knees. The shoes he wore looked new, so new there weren't even any scuffs on the leather, but there were obvious stains on the cuffs and collar of his shirt. It was a puzzle. The whole situation was absolutely mortifying when Herbert realized that he was dressed in a similar fashion rather than in the night shirt he'd gone to bed in and he knew that someone had undressed him in order to put the strange clothes on him.

When the young man said nothing, but stared at Herbert for such a very long time, Herbert decided that he would have to be one to start the conversation. "Hello." He had absolutely no idea why he'd chosen to speak in English. He knew English, of course, as life in the court had given him an excellent education, but there was no reason to expect the stranger to speak English. He prepared to switch to French but stopped when the young man answered him in English.

"Thank goodness!" The young man let out a sigh and gave Herbert a little smile. "I really thought you'd been killed. Oh, your father would have been - "

"Father?" Herbert frowned. It made no sense. He didn't know the young man – he would have remembered such a face - so it was unlikely that he would know anything of Herbert's family life. And even if he did know Herbert and this was some elaborate joke, why would he tell such a lie? "I think you're a bit confused, friend. I haven't got a father." Well, he had one, of course, but he'd never met him. Herbert was a bastard and his mother, a former housemaid, had never told Herbert the man's name. As the man didn't care to acknowledge Herbert, Herbert had long ago decided he was better off without him. Herbert's mother, before her death, had been an excellent parent and filled Herbert's life with all the love and attention she'd been able to when she hadn't been busy working to put food on the table and pay the rent.

"What?" The confusion on the young man's face seemed sincere. If he was lying, he was doing a very good job of it. He scratched his head, baffled. "Of course you do. Why would you say such a thing?"

Herbert was lost. Time to be sensible, he told himself. So he sat up straight and very properly said, "I do apologize for any confusion. Perhaps you have me confused with someone else." Herbert rubbed his head. "Perhaps introductions might help matters." He stood, shakily, and found that there was glass all around his feet. The window of the cottage had been shattered, as if something had been thrown through it. Herbert bowed at the waist with a cautious smile. "My name is Herbert Page. It's very good to meet you. And who might you be?"

The young man just stared a moment, then said, "Alfred. I'm Alfred Cooper. You really don't know me? But… are you sure? Because this would be a really awful time for a joke. We've known each other for ages! Well… for a few days, anyway."

"No," Herbert kept his voice as calm as possible when he replied. Either the young man was crazy or he was trying to confuse Herbert. Either way, he had to get away. "Look… please. I really need to get back. I can't stay here. If you'd just tell me what you want and why you brought me wherever we are, I can get on my way."

With a curious tilt of his head, Mister Cooper frowned. "Why I… gosh. You really don't remember anything. Herbert, you were struck by lightning. I think it scrambled your brain."

It was an almost insulting lie. "Lightning? If I was struck by lightning, then I would feel some sort of pain, I think. Honestly – I have no money for you to steal or any relatives who would pay a ransom for me. I'm not important at all. There's no reason for this. Just let me leave." Herbert held up his hands as he spoke, both to show his captor that he was unarmed and also to defend himself if need be as he'd heard that crazy people could become violent at a moment's notice if they were crossed. He began to slowly inch his way towards the only door in the cottage. If he could just get out the door, he felt sure he could out run Mister Cooper.

"Please!" Mister Cooper begged. "You must believe me. We do know each other. Why would I kidnap you?"

"How should I know? You're the kidnapper - you tell me. And if we know each other so well, then you tell me something no one else knows about me."

"You have a hairless squirrel in your pocket."

Right. Herbert certainly hadn't been expecting that.

When Herbert did nothing but stare at Mister Cooper – and who wouldn't when told they had a hairless squirrel in their pocket? – Mister Cooper stepped closer and reached out, but Herbert jumped away. When Mister Cooper didn't try to reached out, again, Herbert slipped his own hand into the pocket Mister Cooper had been reaching for and his fingers closed on something small and warm and… wiggling. He pulled out of his pocket the ugliest little rodent he'd ever seen. Herbert nearly dropped the little thing. "Dear God… it's horrible."

"She's Poppy," Mister Cooper said, defensively as he rescued the squirrel from Herbert's hand and cuddled her for a minute before slipping her into his own pocket. "You love her very much. You will love her when you remember." Mister Cooper raised a hand to his head and tugged on his hair in a move that looked entirely unconscious. "You've just got to believe me. If we just wait a bit, I'm sure His Excellency will return and he'll be able to help you remember."

"Excellency? Who?"

"His Excellency Count Von Krolock," Mister Cooper said it as if the name should mean something.

Herbert had an excellent memory and he knew the name and face of every noble at court, every servant who routinely accompanied visiting nobles, of the various government officials along with those men's wives, mistresses, and most of their children. He had never heard of Count Von Krolock.

"How do you know this count, Mister Cooper?"

Mister Cooper looked distressed. "Please, won't you call me 'Alfred'?"

"Are you claiming we are close enough to be on such familiar terms?"

Alfred's face fell. He opened his mouth, then closed it and hung his head. "I thought we were going to be friends."

And by God, if that wasn't almost enough to break Herbert's resolve. He felt quite bad for hurting Alfred's feelings and had to remind himself that Alfred was a kidnapper and wasn't due any sympathy. Herbert had to leave. If he'd been gone from the palace for any amount of time, he'd lose his position and he had nothing to fall back on and no good reference to get him another position. He had to leave, but with Alfred's big eyes looking at him… Herbert sighed and felt his anger slip away. "Fine. Fine. Alfred, then. We'll be friends. But a friend wouldn't keep me prisoner."

Alfred looked astonished. "What? Prisoner? Me? No! I – I wouldn't do that! Herbert, won't you listen? I'll explain everything. We were all traveling together and there was a big storm. We got separated from the count and when we took shelter here, you were struck by a terrible blast of lightning. That's why there's glass all over the floor and you don't know me and you don't remember the count and he's going to be so mad at me because I let you get hurt!" Alfred's whole body cringed and Herbert wondered what sort of monster this count was to earn such a reaction.

Alfred began to pace around the room and, as he did, Herbert noticed that he could see. That wouldn't have been wholly remarkable except that he could see far better than he should have been able to considering that it was obviously late at night and the only light in the room was from a single candle. He could see into every little nook and cranky as if it were midday. That… it wasn't right. It wasn't natural. How had he not noticed earlier? "Why is it so bright?" He muttered. A single candle couldn't give off so much light. Perhaps, Herbert thought, it was moonlight. There were two windows in the cottage, so it was possible that the moon was simple very bright that night. Herbert looked out the window.

Trees.

There were trees everywhere. He couldn't see a single other building. They were in the middle of the forest and he found himself wondering how far they'd gone from the palace for there was no place like this in the city. "This," Herbert slowly said. "Isn't Paris." And the moon wasn't shining at all. Rain fell steady and hard with a gusting wind and a roll of Thunder rumbled in the distance, giving at least a little credence to Alfred's story of Herbert being hit by lightning.

"No. I think we're near the English Channel, though." Alfred came to stand next to Herbert at the window. "I think it might be safer to stay here until the count finds us. The sun will rise soon."

"All the better." Herbert set his jaw with determination. "Travel will be easier in the daylight." When he saw Alfred's stunned expression, Herbert asked, "What?"

"Herbert… you're a vampire. You can't go out in the sunlight; it will kill you."

It was all too much. Herbert's anger at Alfred for his role in the situation faded away and was replaced with pity. Poor Alfred. He'd obviously lost his mind. "A vampire?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes. Honest." Alfred was wringing his hands and he looked up at Herbert imploringly. "You have to believe me – if you're outside when the sun rises, it will kill you! Please stay inside at least until tomorrow night when we'll have more time to find somewhere safe for you stay during the day."

Herbert realized with a sinking feeling that Alfred honestly believed what he was saying. He believed that Herbert was a vampire. It really was very sad for such a young man to be so unbalanced. "I think," Herbert said in an effort to placate Alfred's upset. "That we could reach another town before the sun rises and look at the weather - with such a storm the sun won't be able to get through. We should go." He would do his best to get Alfred into the safe hands of an asylum. It was his Christian duty to help those in need and someone who went around accusing innocent servants of being vampires clearly was in need of an asylum.

Alfred's hands clenched at his sides and he tapped his foot uneasily. "We just can't take the chance. See here," he finally said, his voice shaking and desperate. "If you stay here with me through the day, I… I'll give you a kiss."

"W-what? Why… I'm not like that!" Herbert shouted the words and tried hard not to flush. "What makes you think I have any interest in that sort of thing? Your mind is filthy and you ought to be ashamed of yourself! Just suggesting such a vile thing!" Even as he said the words, Herbert, in a mad panic, kept thinking, 'How did he know? Did someone say something or see something? I'll lose my position and I'll never get decent employment! How does he know?' He didn't even want to think about the worst – if Alfred told the wrong people what he knew, then Herbert would likely find himself dead in some dark alley. There really was no way Alfred should have known, though. Herbert was discrete with the incredibly rare few men he'd dallied with and he was certain they'd never had said anything. He was so thrown off by the whole situation – kidnapped and his greatest secret found out - that he actually raised his fist to Alfred and snarled, "You keep your mouth shut and don't say such things!" And the pity of it was that if Alfred hadn't kidnapped him – if he could trust Alfred – he would have happily taken that kiss.

Alfred raised his hands defensively, obviously sure he was going to be hit, and he tensed. Herbert was ashamed of himself. He wasn't a violent person and Alfred was much smaller than he was so it wouldn't have been a fair fight. Actually, the way Alfred just cringed away from Herbert, it wouldn't have been a fight if Herbert lost his temper - it would have been a beating and that understanding left Herbert feeling downright guilty. He lowered his fist and headed for the door.

"No! No!" Alfred pleaded. "Just look, please." When Herbert paused and looked back at him, Alfred picked up the lit candle and went to the cottage's one remaining unbroken window and held up the candle near the window which made his reflection in the glass very clear. "Don't you see?"

Thanks to the candle light, Herbert saw Alfred reflected in the window. "Yes. It's your reflection. What about it?"

"Where's your reflection?"

Herbert took a second look. He moved closer to the window until he was standing right next to Alfred and should have seen himself in the window's glass. He wasn't. The glass showed only Alfred. He waved a hand the glass, then moved from side-to-side as if that might somehow reveal his hidden reflection. Nothing. His mind went numb, as if it had frozen. He reached out and pressed his fingertips against the glass. He had no reflection. "How…" He couldn't even finish the question. He backed away from both Alfred and the window. "It's true? I'm a vampire? What's the year?" His eyes bugged out when Alfred told him. "Almost a hundred years have passed? But that's not," he looked back at where his reflection should have been. "Possible. It's just not." But he couldn't deny the truth and it terrified him.

"Don't be afraid," Alfred desperately implored. "It's nothing really horrible – you actually quite like being a vampire. You're very happy being a vampire. Please don't cry!"

Herbert brought a hand to his face and found that his cheeks were, indeed, wet. However, when he looked at his hand, he found that the tears were red. He was crying blood. Horrified, Herbert furiously wiped at his face and tried to ignore the stains on his hands. "This is not… it can't… a happy vampire? I'm a happy vampire?!" Herbert's horror made his voice rise with every word he spoke. "What kind of monster am I? I'm happy killing people?! Dear God above – why haven't I been killed, yet?"

"Don't think like that. It's not that bad – you told me so yourself. You don't kill people. You're really a very good person or you wouldn't take care of Poppy and you have been very kind to me. You're a good vampire."

The gentle words, clearly meant to be reassuring, inflamed Herbert. "A good vampire?! You are a complete lunatic! There can be so such thing as a good monster! I'm evil!"

Alfred made to reach out to Herbert, but Herbert, still furious and afraid and confused by the sudden revelation that Alfred wasn't lying or crazy, lashed out. He only meant to push Alfred away, but the blow to Alfred's shoulder sent Alfred flying backwards where he slammed into a wall. The whole cottage seemed to shake at the impact and Herbert gaped at what he'd done. Alfred had gone flying off his feet for a good eight feet and lay on the floor in a still heap.

"I've killed him." Herbert said, faintly. He felt sick. "I killed him." Herbert ran to Alfred's side and threw himself down next to him. He slowly and carefully rolled Alfred over onto his back, but the moment he did, Alfred's eyes opened. "Oh, forgive me! I didn't mean it, I really didn't!"

Alfred managed a weak, pained smile. "I'm alright." There was a fearsome gnash across Alfred's forehead.

The blood was tempting, Herbert yearned for just a little taste even as he was disgusted with himself. However, even as he watched, he could see the wound close up. It was unbelievable. It sealed up and soon enough there wasn't a sign of the wound.

Alfred pushed himself up and sat cross-legged on the floor. With his head lowered and his shoulders hunched, Alfred murmured, "I didn't mean to make you angry. I'm sorry."

Herbert couldn't possible have felt worse about attacking someone. "No. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have hit. Your wound? You had a cut on your forehead."

A touch to the forehead showed nothing, of course, but Alfred told Herbert, "It's better now, isn't it?"

"Yes, but I saw your reflection. You're not a vampire."

"No. The count gave me some of his blood so I seem to heal a little faster." Finally, Alfred looked shyly up at Herbert. "Are you still mad at me?"

Herbert opened his mouth to answer when the terrible hunger he'd been feeling suddenly became too much and he doubled over with the pain of it. With his arms wrapped around himself, Herbert groaned. He was about ready to start eating dirt if that would stop the hunger! "Hungry! I need to eat. Anything! Please. Please." To get something in his belly, he wasn't above begging.

Alfred awkwardly crawled over to sit next to hurt Herbert. Alfred smelled so good. It wasn't the smell of perfume, though. It was something deeper, something more, that seemed to call to Herbert. It was such a powerfully enticing smell that Herbert lost all sense of caution and leaned closer than was proper for two men.

"Herbert," Alfred said, hesitantly. "I can help your hunger, I think."

"Yes." But the smell coming from Alfred was extremely distracting and almost made him forget the hunger. "Please. It hurts."

"Alright. You just have to drink some blood." Alfred's voice was barely more than a whisper and his hand, when he held it out to Herbert, was trembling. "Go on."

Herbert cringed. "No."

"I really think you have to," Alfred put a calming hand on Herbert's arm. "I don't know much about anything, but I do know that you're a vampire and you've been hurt. You need blood. Touch your teeth."

Herbert did as he was told and found that he had fangs. Like an animal, he had huge fangs.

"You see? This is normal for you." Alfred swallowed hard. It looked almost painful. "I trust you. Just… just don't take too much. Please? Go on. Bite."

It was absolutely disgusting. Herbert felt vaguely ill, but more and more the hunger was starting to take overwhelm him. He didn't want blood – he wanted lamb stew or fish or an apple… anything! But Alfred's wrist was right in front of him and Alfred smelled so good, so appealing. Herbert took Alfred's hand and gave another worried look at Alfred before, after getting an encouraging nod, he lowered his mouth.

He didn't want to hurt Alfred. Alfred was only trying to help. But he didn't really know what he was doing and it felt so very strange to feel his teeth sink into the flesh of another person. The sharp taste of blood filled his mouth and, for just a moment, the terrible hunger faded into nothing.

As soon as the hunger was under control, Herbert released Alfred and backed away. He licked his lips and reveled in the taste. Alfred was sweet and filling and Herbert was sickened at how much pleasure he found in the blood. He raised one hand to his mouth and, again, felt his teeth – two long fangs, sharp as needles. He let out a sigh. "This is a nightmare."

With blood on his wrist and looking paler than was quite healthy, Alfred gave Herbert a smile that was probably supposed to be comforting. "Wait until the count finds us; you'll feel better then." He looked at his wrist with satisfaction. "It's already healing. In a minute, you won't be able to tell I was bitten. Do you feel any better?"

Better? He didn't feel so hungry, but he certainly didn't feel good. "What happens now?"

"Well, we should cover the windows so the sun can't get in during the day."

No sooner had Alfred spoken then a massive gust of wind from the storm howled and both Alfred and Herbert heard an ominous crack. The wind grew stronger and there was a rush of noise before the whole cottage collapsed when a tree nearly four feet across and fifty feet tall – old and weak and finally defeated by the storm - crashed down upon it.

Herbert felt a great weight land on him and he was pushed to the floor. He pushed and whatever it was that was on him shifted easily and when he was able to stand, he found that it was the tree. The massive tree that had fallen had landed right on Herbert, but it hadn't done more than annoy Herbert. If he were truly human, he knew, he would have been dead. Instead, he only felt a vague pain in his chest. The candle's light had been snuffed out in an instant, but Herbert's suddenly incredible vision allowed him to still see quite well. A look around showed Herbert that the whole cottage was destroyed. Rain fell heavily down on them. He was more than a little alarmed when he didn't immediately see Alfred. "Alfred? Where are you? Alfred?"

"I'm here." Alfred pushed several large broken tree limbs off and struggled to get to his feet. He looked down at the log he'd heaved off himself and was amazed. "I really am stronger – the count was right."

The cottage was an utter wreck. There was nothing left but a pile of debris. Alfred and Herbert stared at the rubble around them in horrified silence until Herbert slowly turned to Alfred. "You said the sun is rising, soon?"

Alfred nodded. "But it's still raining. Maybe the clouds will be heavy enough to block the sun. Maybe it will keep raining until we find somewhere for you to rest."

That was two too many 'maybe's'. "I suppose there may be another cottage right over the next hill, right?"

"Right. We were heading towards the sea and there are always towns and cities near the sea. We had been flying for hours before the storm hit so we can't be too far off." Alfred's expression and tone didn't hold as much confidence as his words did. "We can't just stand here. The count might not find us tonight and we need to get to shelter. We should start walking and soon we'll find the train tracks and we can follow them to the next town."

"Alright." Herbert looked around at the trees around them. "Which way?"

There was a moment of silence as Alfred looked left, then right. He turned around completely to look behind him. Finally, he pointed in a direction. "That way."

"Why?"

Alfred shrugged. "Why not?"

As Herbert didn't have any better ideas, he nodded and they started walking. "I'm going to burn up in the sun, aren't I? I'm going to die."

"No. Everything will be alright." Alfred took Herbert's hand. "Don't worry; I'll take care of you."

To be continued…