Well…it's been a really, really long time, hasn't it? A year? More? I have to apologize to my reviewers for doing that…that is if I even have any reviewers anymore. Really, if anyone reviews on this, especially my old reviewers, I don't deserve you! However, I do plan to get back on the horse with writing this. I've missed it…anyway, here you go. I hope you enjoy after all this time.
Chapter Fourteen: Too Close for Comfort
Rawnie didn't bother to keep track of the time at this point of the morning. Though the large, mahogany clock in the in the hallway let out a dull roar at the hour, she didn't count how many times it chimed. The sun had long since peeked up over the rooftops of Vaseria for a brief moment, if only to shine its rays through her window to jolt her body to life, before again disappearing behind the low hanging clouds. So, since dawn the woman had remained in her sprawled out position in her bed, eyes staring blankly up at the dark wood of the ceiling. She had listened to the workers of the household rise from their quarters and begin their morning routines downstairs as well as outside. She could smell the smoke rising from the kitchen as breakfast was being prepared for her and her friends, hear the harsh strokes of the broom bristles as the walkways were cleared around the stable, and finally the sound of Charlie and the rest awakening met her ears.
For a moment she thought that someone was going to enter her room. Her eyes rolled down from the ceiling to the double doors leading to the hallway were she was certain someone was looming. She continued to lay in silence waiting for a knock or a turn of the knob to confirm her belief. Surely it would be Charlie checking on her recovery from the sorry state she put herself in the night before, or perhaps Mrs. Danmonet coming to bring her a bit of breakfast. Whoever Rawnie thought it might have been soon did not matter because there were only the sounds of retreating footsteps to prove that someone had been there at all. In response, the woman only rolled to her side and stared out her window that not too long ago had been smashed in by the count she now kept a few floors below. As she found her mind drifting toward Dracula, Rawnie also found her hand moving toward her scarred shoulder. It didn't hold the same warmth that it did before that night the vampire took her and sank his teeth into her flesh. Temporary. That's what he said it would be. She hadn't heard the voices, the thoughts, the dreams…but they would come back. That's what he said…
Rawnies face squeezed tightly as the throbbing in her head reminded her of why she was still in bed. Throwing her hands over her eyes, she rolled away from the window and towards her dimly lit room. A quick survey told her that her drunken state didn't bring any havoc to her bedroom, though the odor of alcohol was still lingering. A table on a far wall held the bottle with the remnants of her beverage of choice for the night and her jacket that she lost somewhere in the course of the night was dangling from the back of a chair not to far off. A quick change of vision would reveal that her gloves were neatly placed on her bedside table. Surely she wasn't able to pull herself together enough to find all of these things before pouring herself into bed last night, was she? A quick snort at that thought to herself brought on the obvious answer. Someone took care of her last night.
Even before she knew the question she had come up with the answer. Her tongue slowly slipped out to lick her cracked lips once before retreating back into her dry mouth. She could still taste his skin on her lips and smell him in her room. She could still feel his smooth fingers, always protected by leather, along her arm and back. Her mind was able to conjure up images of his face and words, but little else. It worried her not knowing what she may have done last night with Gabriel Van Helsing.
She sat up slowly, careful of her delicate headache. Tossing the heaving covers from her body, her worries were elevated even more when she realized that she was not wearing her normal day garb. Instead, she was clothed in her usual nightwear. Her eyes wondered blankly over herself for a few minutes before one of her hands reached behind her and snatched up one of the soft pillows, quickly bringing it up to her nose. Rawnie took in a deep breath before pulling the object away, allowing the scent of it to run through her mind. It didn't smell like him. She was almost tempted to lean down and smell her sheets to make sure they did not have his scent on them. However, before she could, the same man she was concerned about carefully pushed her bedroom door open.
"Well, good morning. Or, nearly afternoon now," Van Helsing greeted with a small smile and slowly walked toward her with a glass of water. The woman on the bed just watched him with near suspicion as he approached and placed the glass on her bedside table. She remained silent as he lowered himself into a chair not far from her and watched her. As she reached for the water, she was sure a strange expression was spreading on her face.
"How are you feeling?" he asked nonchalantly.
Rawnie paused in her sips of water at the question as if she were going to answer. She looked at him for a few moments, thinking, before taking another heavy gulp of liquid, and placed the glass back on the table.
"Did we sleep together last night?" Her straight question seemed expected but the mans face still contorted a bit as he shifted in his chair. He gave her a grin and a brief shake of his head.
"No, we didn't."
Gesturing to her garments, she shot out another question.
"Did you see me naked?"
"No. I found it for you, you managed to get the clothes off and on yourself."
Looking at him as if she didn't quite trust him, she grabbed for the glass again. She didn't share her bed with Gabriel Van Helsing…but she still couldn't shake the memory of his hand along her arm, or the taste of him on her lips. Looking at him over the rim of the glass, she was still a bit surprised at how laid back he was during this conversation. At most instances he proved that she was the kind of woman that he would want nowhere near his bed. However, he seemed perfectly content with all that happened and possibly could have happened last night. She couldn't have imagined all of it. It was aggravating. They were close last night. He was close, so close she could literally taste him.
She was going to open her mouth and throw out another question or comment about last night, but something behind Van Helsings head caught her eye. Or rather the lack thereof. There, on the far wall, sat an empty portion of wall where a picture use to hang. Rawnies eyes narrowed as she tried to put the pieces together, slowly. Below her line of vision, the man glanced over his shoulder in curiosity, only to shift his eyes back to her, waiting for her to come to any kind of conclusion.
She slid a hand over her face and through her hair as the memory of the family portrait being pulled from the wall by Van Helsing came tumbling into place.
"I shouldn't have had you do that," the woman whispered through the fingers that were now covering her mouth. Gabriel only looked at her before rolling his eyes toward the floor.
"It's fine. I understand why you wanted to do it."
"But I shouldn't have had you do it, Gabriel." With that, the still slightly unsteady woman stood up from the bed and snatched her robe up. Pulling it over herself and trudging across the room at the same time, Rawnie was cursing herself and her family both at the same time. Why did they even need a damn portrait for her to feel bad about? Gripping the frame, she pulled it out from its hiding place, slightly bitter. Once it was free of its prison, she propped it against the wall, facing out before making her way back to the bed, arms crossed over her stomach.
"I'll have it hung in another room," she commented and collapsed on the soft mattress. After a few seconds of silence she gave a hard look at Van Helsing. "Maybe you or the Vatican would want it."
Gabriel returned her look, as if searching her for any hidden meaning. She just sat there, staring at him. He felt a little bad for always wondering if there was always something hidden up this woman's sleeve, but for the life of him, he couldn't help it. She seemed too…too…intelligent to give it all away for nothing. Too cynical, too dark, too intelligent for her own good. She seemed to be on the opposite side of the coin then Anna. Anna was optimistic, brave, and unshakable in her quest to defeat Dracula. Rawnie…Rawnie seemed to be making Dracula her ally these days. Though, Van Helsing had to wonder if it was her initial personality, or Rawnies troubled childhood that made her the way she was. What made her cry at the thought of not being wonderful like Anna, and breakdown when he made her realize that he was not Dracula as she ran her fingers through his hair and her lips over his?
The brief memories of that incident last night made him unconsciously lick his bottom lip.
The gypsy queen had gotten dressed, devoured a quick lunch, found Charles, and delivered her apologies for the night before all in one hour after her discussion with Gabriel Van Helsing. Charles seemed to be concerned, and then irritated, and then he twisted back around to concerned. It was his normal behavior after a night of heavy drinking by his good friend. However, it would seem that these days his concern was earned.
That was several hours ago. It was this concern from Charlie that made Rawnie feel even worse for placing herself at the top of the stairs leading down to the cellar once again. Staring down into the dimly lit walkway below, she puffed on the rolled cigarette she was offered from one of the kitchen hands. Smoking was never one of her habits, but with the way her life was going, she could easily manage taking on another addiction to take her mind off of the day-to-day activities. Every now and again she would hear someone walk across the wood floor somewhere near by, and she would just sit with her eyes closed, waiting for Gabriel to come stomping up behind her in defiance at what she was thinking of doing. However, the footsteps always passed. It seemed that after last night's…ruckus, no one wanted to bother the woman any more than necessary today.
Smashing the cigarette under her boot, the gypsy laced her fingers in front of her face and continued to peer down the stairs. Her initial intention was to simply sit, think, and smoke. After a few hours, her mind was now wondering to the creature…the man that she kept below. She thought about the deal she made with him the day before. Information for blood…her blood. She thought about the information that he provided her with, about how they were connected by the scar, and how he explained to her why she had been having such…raw dreams involving him. Remembering these dreams not only made her tightly shut her eyes, but it also made her grudgingly admit to herself that since her sleep had been cleared of the those scarlet dreams, she had been waking with a strange since of loneliness. They had troubled her, yes, but at the same time…
Her head jerked to the side as she heard footsteps on the floor again. Leaning back slowly so she could glance around the doorway, Rawnies eyes scanned the large hall for a sign of life. After a minute or so, her back screamed at her to move back into a comfortable position, and her paranoid mind eventually bent to the request and she slipped back into the darkness of the stairwell. However, when she did, she was instantly thrown into near convulsions by the surprise of another human being perched on the stair next to her.
"Piping hot hell in a bloody hat box, Red!" she screamed, in turn scaring the young man who had previously just been staring at her. Rawnie, grabbing her chest in an attempt to calm her heart, glared at him.
"Sorry, lady lady," he squeaked from his corner of the stair.
"How long…how did you…" she started to babble and pointing over her shoulder to indicate that she had been on patrol to make sure that nothing like this little incident happened. Her instincts must have been failing.
"I just just came from that way way," Red offered in his odd language and pointed in the opposite direction from where the woman had been scouting. She glanced at him and then at the alternate route before cursing to herself. She was trying to blame her stupidity on her headache and general mental instability at the moment, but she just couldn't find it in herself to do so.
"Lovely," Rawnie mumbled before turning back to him. It wasn't before facing him that she noticed there was a peculiar smell in the air. Something that made her wrinkle up her face in displeasure and rear back slightly. The boy must have noticed because he grabbed a pail at his feet and raised it up to eye level with a look of pride on his face. Rat and mouse blood. A whole pail of rodent blood was gentle swaying back and forth in front of the queens' face, and the only thing that came to her mind was, 'is it that time of day again already?'.
Dragging her eyes away from the small offering of blood, she once again moved her focus down to the depths of the makeshift dungeon; the temporary home of Count Vladislaus Dragulia. Once again her body leapt in surprise as the large clock behind her chimed with the hour, reminding her yet again how long she had been hovering just beyond his reach. Biting her lip, she could picture him waking from whatever kind of restless sleep he found down in that cell. She imagined that he knew she was there. She imagined that even as he slept he had felt her sitting idly on the step, wringing her hands and smoking her cigarette. The thought of him being so…aware of her made her even more anxious than she was before.
Red started to get up, no doubt going about his task to feed the vampire below. Quickly, Rawnie jabbed a hand out and latched onto his thin arm, stopping him in his tracks. His wide eyes turned back to her in curiosity. The woman shook her head and gave him a tight smile.
"I-" she started, her throat suddenly dry from her own thoughts. "I'll take it down, Red."
"Are you sure sure, lady?" he asked. Red held a tone to his voice as he raised the question that bordered on suspicion, a tone that Rawnie had never heard from him before. Had her behavior really started to worry everyone in the household this much?
"Yes, Red, I'm sure," she assured before standing and grabbing the blood pail from the young mans hand. For a moment, his hand was reluctant to release the handle, but after stern look from the gypsy queen, he let go.
"Go and reset the traps, Red," she told him gently and turned from the redheaded boy to descend the stairs. As she made her way down, she could feel his young eyes still on her as if waiting for her to turn and request his presence down in the darkness. When she reached the bottom step, she finally heard him take his leave. Now she only had to worry about the boy going off and telling Van Helsing that the crazy woman pranced downstairs again.
The Valerious woman slowly walked down the passageway, the pail swinging gently at her side. Her feet felt heavy, her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in the tips of her fingers, and it seemed the nearer she got to the door in front of her, the worse it got. She didn't know why these effects were making themselves known all of a sudden. Maybe it was bit of alcohol that was still running through her veins, maybe spending the past few hours on that stair just worked herself up, maybe she was nervous after that deal she made with him…
Before she knew it the intimidating door was a foot in front of her, and she was staring at it with a viciousness she didn't even know she had. Her hand was gripping the handle of the pail so tightly, she was sure that her nails were digging ditches into her palms, while her empty hand stayed loose at her side, a bit of sweat seeping up from between its fingers. Why did she tell Red she would do this? Was she really going to let the vampire feed off of her like she had promised? She wasn't sure, but the idea of the count sinking his teeth into her again sent a small quake down her back from fear. From fear, and something else that she refused to identify before jerking the door open and glaring inside.
The woman paused in the doorway. Vladislaus was standing, facing the door, an immediate sign to Rawnie that he probably knew about her arrival long before she touched the door. However, his 'greeting' posture was not only different, his hair was as well. It took her a few moments to remember the incident from yesterday with the hairclip, but it eventually came rolling back when she noticed that the mans deep hair was pulled back and away from his rather handsome face. She continued to glare at him until the loud bang of the door falling closed behind her immediately shook her awake and made her take a few tentative steps into the cell.
The gypsy opened her mouth to speak, but the counts voice cut her off.
"My dear Rawnie," he began, his voice as smooth as ever, "what a delight to see you here with my…nourishment."
She could she his eyes slide down to the pail at her side in disgust then back up to her face.
"Red was busy," she lied and inwardly cringed. He would know a lie. She could hear him make a sound in the back of his throat and she gritted her teeth. He took a few lazy steps toward her, steps that she was certain were meant to make her back away. She stood her ground.
"You have new…smells on you," he slowly slithered out as he approached, the chains rattling behind his words. Her jaw tightened as he continued speaking and invading her personal space.
"Smoke. Ashy and of tobacco…" he concluded with a lip curled slightly to match the glare that the woman was sending him. "Alcohol. Strong…"
Pausing, the snatched her free hand and brought his exposed wrist up to his nose. Rawnie gave a firm jerk, but Dracula was a strong creature.
"Strong…and still flowing through your veins," he finished, his cold breath beating down on the skin of her hand as he spoke. With a grin that aggravated her to the core, he loosened his fingers and she pulled her hand from his. She suddenly felt like the pail in her hand was a liability and took a step away from the oddly behaving vampire before placing it on the floor.
"There is another scent that I find difficult to…" Dracula stopped as if a bit irritated and then continued, "ignore, dear Rawnie."
"I don't cater to your senses, dear Count," Rawnie mocked, inwardly thinking that it may have been a bad decisions when the man reached the rest of the way the bonds would allow him, and grabbed her by the neck. The gypsy queen was then pulled towards him until they were nose to nose. Her hands instinctively wrapped around the wrist and arm the held her, her nails trying the bite through the their fabric of his garments, but to no avail. It was finally going to happen. Exactly what Van Helsing said would happen. He was going to suck her dry and leave her down here for someone to find. She was foolish to think that she could be an ally with this man, this creature. Staring into his face and those beautiful and dangerous eyes, she thought maybe she deserved to go out this way since she brought him into her house. At least if he didn't choke the life out of her first.
Of course, it wasn't until she had that thought that she realized that he wasn't choking her at all. She…she could breathe. He wasn't choking her. Then nothing but him draining the life out of her to look forward to she supposed.
"It's everywhere on you," he suddenly began speaking again, bringing her out of her fears, "on your skin, your hair, your hands."
Rawnie began to feel very uncomfortable with this and began squirming in his grip. One of the hands that were clinching his arm moved to push away at his chest. It felt like she was pushing a stone wall. The vampires other hand came up and gently tapped around the sides of her mouth, making her stop in her motions.
"I can even smell it on your mouth," the count gave a grin that made her wish she had never came down here, even when he began running his fingers over her lips. He hadn't been like this before…not with her at least.
"Do you know who it smells like, dear Rawnie?"
"Stop it," she demanded in a tone that she had rarely shown him. It did nothing but make his eyes narrow and the hand gripping her neck to shake her slightly.
"I believe," he started, "you had a much more personal experience with said individual, so perhaps, it should be you who speaks his name. Hmm?"
"You already know, so what does it matter?" she spat out, still glaring into his blue eyes that held something that she couldn't put her finger on.
"You allow him to touch your skin and his lips to yours, and you will not even say his name?" his tone was nearly amused now, which was making Rawnie all the more angry.
"You assume to much, dear count," she hissed out, "Why do you care what Van Helsing touched, or what I touched on Van Helsing for that matter?"
His head reared back slightly after she finally spoke the name and the posing of the question. His expression was fairly unreadable, but she had a sinking feeling that she had somehow managed to make him angry again. His fingers flexed a few times around her neck as he stared at her.
"You say Van Helsing has no property here," he returned her hiss and her words from the other night. The woman jutted her jaw out defiantly and looked the powerful vampire straight in the eye.
"And neither do you."
With a flick of his wrist, he instantly sent her skittering across the room and to the dirty floor where she came to rest next to the door. Raising herself up onto her elbows, Rawnie only looked back at the count through the curtain of hair that had fallen in front of her face from the rough treatment. He was still standing in the same spot, staring down at her, his eyes blazing. These weren't scare tactics. He was angry. Angry at her…possibly angry at Van Helsing. Rawnie began to pull herself up from the floor, her eyes never leaving his figure. She was going to have some bruises from her landing. She could already feel the heat of them welling up on her back and side.
Still staring harshly at him, and he returning the favor, the queen moved to gather up the blood pail once more, careful of it sloshing over the sides. Stubbornly approaching him again, she held out the pail.
"Take your food," she said plainly. He refused to look at the grotesque offering.
"Take it," she repeated louder, her voice reverberating around the small room.
"I will not," Vladislaus countered in an even voice, eyes still cold. Rawnie gnashed her teeth before bending quickly to place the pail at the mans feet. In her eagerness, some of the scarlet sludge slid over the top and poured onto the floor, but she paid it no mind. Taking to her full height, she gestured down to the floor.
"Then eat when you please, I don't care."
"Consider yourself lucky that you still have that vile liquid running through your veins, dear Rawnie. Do not think that I have forgotten our agreement." The threat that the count issued ran through her like lightening and her backbone straitened as she stood in front of him.
"I'll remember that." She intended for the words to come out as a confident sentence, but they came out as a pathetic whisper from a strained throat. Again, she found herself staring at his face and unable to stop. They were too close together for her comfort. He was acting strangely and erratically. She shouldn't be this close to him. She could be thrown through a wall.
Suddenly, some little memory from last night began to flicker to life as she stared at that beautiful and pale face. She remembered the warmth from Van Helsings nearness, the scent of his skin…then she remembered something he said. 'I'm not him…'. Him…she had no idea what her reaction may have been to this, but she had a fairly good idea to who 'him' was. And, Van Helsing was right, he wasn't 'him'. Because as Rawnie looked at 'him', in seconds she could think about how many ways the two were different…but, at the same time she was sure if she had the time, she could think of a few things were they were the same…
'I'm not him…'
Slipping that piece of the puzzle in with some of the others from last night, Rawnie began to think that Gabriel suspected she only brought her lips to his because she thought those lips weren't his at all. Surely she wasn't that delusional. Surely…
Remembering where she was, the woman gave a few hard blinks and brought her eyes back to the man in front of her from where they had wondered. She found that he was staring at her intently, almost as if he were reading her mind. Perhaps he was. The anger had seeped from his eyes and now there was only that same look of arrogance and mild curiosity that she was accustom to. This brought her back to being at ease and jittery at the same time.
That's why it was a different brand of emotions when his chilled lips moved across the small distance between them and roughly grasped hers. She didn't pull back, but her hands gripped at her sides in a kind of silent rebellion against it that she just couldn't stand to voice. His lips were surprisingly soft, and even melding with her warmth, his breath was icy cold and brought goose bumps screaming down her neck. His hands slid up her upper arms and latched onto the cloth of her jacket so tightly she was sure that it was going to tear. Rawnies hands clinched unclenched themselves until finally she allowed them to stray onto the gritty material of his coat and move up, following the path of the buttons till her fingertips grazed the cool exposed flesh along his neck.
The kiss was ravenous, almost desperate, as one mouth seemed to tear at the other. The woman gripped at the lapels of his coat furiously, certain that if she let go he would shove her away even though his grip on her remained firm. Above them she could hear the echo of heavy footsteps and a strong male voice, muffled by the ceiling. She instinctively glanced up at the voice that she was sure belonged to Van Helsing, and who of which she was sure was looking for her. Dracula's cold lips slid over her upturned jaw, his teeth graze her skin carefully as she tried to tell where the man upstairs was heading. It was nearly impossible to concentrate as the man she currently was latched onto moved his attentions to her neck. It made her nervous still, as she felt the vampires teeth slide over her flesh in places where she was sure he could get a good meal. Gasping slightly at a small nip, she turned her gaze back down to see his eyes blazing once more. The count was not angry though.
In a sudden split decision, Rawnie shoved herself out of the mans grasp and towards the door, successfully ripping her jacket sleeve from his still strong hold. She just stared at him with a slightly dazed and breathing hard before slowly beginning to back out of the cell.
"Rawnie," he cooed like one would to a child, and looked at her with a small smirk and an extremely smug expression on his face. It had been done. She was going to try and ignore it, he knew, but she would not be able to. They both knew that. He watched her for as long as he could until the door closed and she turned and leaned against it, still very much feeling him staring at the door.
Rolling her eyes down to the ripped sleeve, she groaned. She would have to think of an excuse. Sliding down and pulling her knees to chest a small cringe spread over her face as the pain of the new bruises made themselves known. An excuse for the rip. But first she would need to get this taste off of her lips…his taste…much stronger than any Gabriel Van Helsing. Raising her fingers to her mouth, she felt her breath. Oddly enough, a bit colder than before. She didn't expect Vladislaus Dragulia to really…have a taste. However, he tasted like the first sip of red wine out of a bottle and bitter cherries. She needed to get rid of it, but wasn't really sure she wanted to.
The conundrum made her subconsciously lick her lips. Then again.
Then once more.
Rawnie lay soaking in her bath silently. For the second time that day she found herself staring up at the ceiling in silence and thought. She thought about her stumbling back upstairs and her brief encounter with Van Helsing. She thought about her fabricated story about how she tore her sleeve on a nail somewhere in the house, and the disbelieving face that she got from the man. She thought about how the idea of a bath popped into her mind and how scrubbing away all the scents Vladislaus Dragulia mentioned would feel…even Van Helsings scent. And, every now and again she would allow herself to think about the kiss shared downstairs with the vampire before she would shove it away into the deep dark recesses of her mind where she could at least attempt to ignore it for the time being.
Sliding her body down the slick white porcelain, the woman submerged herself in the water, slightly murky with different scents. The water was approaching that irritatingly tepid temperature that signaled to her that it was time to get out soon, but her body just would not respond to that request. Instead she just allowed her face to immerge from the water before taking a long, shaky breath.
It was then that the few candles lit in the washroom flickered out, leaving Rawnie in a relatively dark room. Quickly sitting up in the bath, she sent her eyes flying around the room in a quiet paranoia. Perhaps the wind…no, the windows were shut. Were the candles simply past their prime? She quickly confirmed that each one was still standing tall in their place, smoke rising gently from them. They still had many uses left.
"Hel-" she started to whisper out, but was interrupted by a sharp and familiar pain spreading over her shoulder. Gripping it tightly with her hand, the gypsy clinched her teeth to hold back a noise of agony. 'It will only be temporary…' The counts voice echoed in her head and she leaned back in the water, immediately missing the pain free days she had been having. Still holding her scarred shoulder, Rawnie gently closed her eyes and tried to think away the pain. However, while in the midst of this personal calming session, her heart skipped a beat when she felt a cold hand run over her cheek.
Jerking away and to the other side of the bath, the woman blinked her eyes fiercely, forcing the bit of dizziness out of her vision. Once the world was straight again, what little breath she had stopped in her throat.
"Ver…Verona?" she spoke in a small voice, her face visibly shocked by the sight of the presumably dead vampire in front of her. She looked just the way she did the night in the forest, when Rawnie was just a child. Her long, dark hair swept over her shoulders and framed that lovely face, as those intense eyes gazed at the human woman. Instinctively, Rawnies arms flew up to cover herself, though the vampire didn't seem to notice her indecency. She only reached one long, graceful hand out and carefully brushed her fingertips over the queens' wet hair.
"Hush, child," the bride hummed, once again bringing back memories from long ago.
"You're…you're dead…" the human spoke, ignoring Veronas words. The terrifying and beautiful vampire brought her hand away before giving a smile that made Rawnie all the more uncomfortable.
"You have been taking great care in keeping my love," she replied. It was instantly clear to the frightened woman that 'my love' was the man downstairs. She opened her mouth to speak again, but before any words could come out, Verona sunk into the shadows behind her. She was out of sight, but Rawnie could still feel her in the room. Watching…
Shrugging off the throb in her shoulder, the waterlogged woman cautiously moved closer to the end of the bath where the dead woman previously was. Peering into the shadows, she could see no sign of her, and the same result came when her wide eyes moved over the rest of the room yet again. She was still there…but how could she hide in such a small room?
A hand then swooped out of the darkness and clenched around her throat with a force that Dracula had not shown. Rawnie was forced backwards and into the bathwater, her head bouncing off of its hard bottom. She thrashed her legs and arms about, spraying water over the room, trying to get herself to the surface. Unfortunately, the hand holding her down proved all too strong, and she had nothing to do but succumb to its will. Her fingers clawed desperately at the hand and arm until she could feel bits of skin begin to peel away under her nails. At this, she was pulled out of the water to come face to face with the white face and fangs of a monstrous Verona.
"He is not yours," she hissed in the face of the woman who was gasping for air under the pressure of the vampires grip. "He is mine!"
Again, she was forced underwater, certain she was going to be killed by this angered creature. Rawnie tried to keep the water from flooding into her lungs, but it was a difficult task. Her legs kicked at the body hovering above her, but like pushing at Dracula himself, it seemed like she was merely kicking at a wall. She was going to die by the hands of a creature that was supposed to be long gone. She wanted to cry out for help. She wanted to yell for Van Helsing to come and save her when she really needed saving. And, oddly enough, she wanted to scream for Dracula. His bride was killing her, but for a reason that was beyond her, in the back of her mind she thought that he would stop this. He would save her…
However, the woman soon found that she may not need saving. The hand holding her down was suddenly absent, and as though waking for a nightmare, Rawnie yanked herself out of the water, taking in a huge breath of air. Her hands held the sides of the bathtub in a death grip as she breathed, almost waiting for the next onslaught to come. But, nothing happened. She was alone in the washroom once more with no sign of the attacking bride. As she calmed, she couldn't help but notice the glow of candles around her. Her eyes narrowed in confusion she stared at them, distinctly remembering them being snuffed out. Glancing over the side of the bath, she looked down at the floor that was dry, even after her messy struggle in the water. Glaring out of the window across the room, she noted the moon was at a substantially higher position in the sky than it was when she began her soak.
"A…a dream?" Rawnie spat out and ran a hand over her neck not feeling any heat from bruises that she should be accumulating. A dream…a nightmare. The amount of time that she had been asleep was a mystery to her, and frankly, didn't care. She only wanted to get out of the room that was now making her body shake with nervousness. Pulling herself slowly out of the water, the Valerious wrapped her robe around her otherwise naked form, ignoring the thought of being proper.
Cracking open the door to reveal the lit hallway, Rawnie had to stop. Her eyes danced up and down the length of the hall, as if looking for something. The manor was quiet. There was no sound of people moving around a floor beneath her, no voices, not even the clattering of pans from the kitchen. Just deathly silence. Subconsciously running her hand up the smooth fabric of her robe, she again clutched her shoulder. Something was…off. Something was wrong.
Moving further into the hallway and toward the stairs, the woman's breath slowed while she tried to search for any form of sound or life. Only the sound of her feet padding down the stairs greeted her. Maybe she was acting like a scared child. Maybe the dream with Verona had shaken her so terribly that she was simply being overly suspicious. When her feet met with the even floor once again, she straightened her back as if trying to physically make herself surer of the situation.
"Charlie?" she shouted out, the word reverberating on the walls and ceiling. No answer.
"Carl?"
Again, nothing.
"Van Helsing?" she called one last time, her voice rising a bit. She waited…and waited…there was no response. Moving herself to the left, she approached the large map hanging on the wall, a location that Gabriel Van Helsing was often seen. His form was nowhere to be found. Turning on her heel, Rawnie headed for the bar area. As she got nearer, she could already see that the room was painfully vacant. She bit her lower lip with anxiety at the situation.
"Gabriel?" she screamed out, making sure to penetrate all closed doors of the large house. Silence glared back at her.
Letting out a small sound of irritation, Rawnie again turned from the room, swiftly making for the large doorway. She soon skidded to a halt from someone standing in her way.
"Mrs. Danmonet," the younger woman breathed out, relieved to see another living thing. The shorter of the two only gave a brief smile before turning her attention to the garments of the taller.
"Oh dear, Ms. Valerious, what in the world are you thinking running around in that? You'll catch cold from the drafts," Mrs. Danmonet worried while Rawnie only gave a small smile.
"I'm sure I'll pull through," she started then paused. "Where is everyone?"
At this, the maid paused as well.
"I can't find anyone. Have you seen them?"
"Oh, I'm sure they're around somewhere, Miss," she finally answered with a slight flick of her hand. "Now come, dinner is nearly done."
"Dinner?" Rawnie repeated and stared down at the older woman. There was no scent of food in the air. And as diligent as she was with finding a speck of sound before, she was sure that there was no movement in the kitchen.
"Yes," Danmonet nodded cheerfully, still firmly looking up at her former charge. There was quiet between the two for a few moments, one with an unfaltering stare, the other struggling to make some kind of sense of what was going on. That suspicion that had followed Rawnie out of the washroom was still clinging to her.
"Aren't you hungry, dear?"
"I…" the gypsy began before clearing her throat, "I am."
"Well then, come along," the pudgy woman laughed out and started her way toward the kitchen, sure that the still damp woman behind her would follow. She did…slowly.
"I feel like I should tell you again how happy all of us are that you're home again," Mrs. Danmonet chatted. "It's lovely to have a Valerious in the manor again. Things just weren't the same."
She stopped her speaking as if waiting for Rawnie to respond. Something that never came.
"But, miss, we are a bit anxious whenever you go out or go down to see that terrible beast. It seems you always seem to get yourself into trouble, just like when you were a child," she chuckled. "But really, making deals and such with that thing make us all worried. After all, it's not-"
Rawnie halted in her steps.
"How did you know about that?" she quickly asked, interrupting the ramblings of the maid. Danmonet slowly turned with a half smile, shaking her head.
"You told me, dear."
The Valerious stiffened noticeably at the mention of 'the deal' and her otherwise blank stare became apprehensive as her eyebrows knitted together. The kind old woman continued to look upon her with a slightly amused expression that made her all the more doubtful of the entire situation.
"No…I didn't."
Mrs. Danmonet cocked her head to one side as she studied the young woman, the amusement slipping from her face. Rawnies heart began beating rapidly again and her slipped in and out of her mouth at an equal pace. Wrong…something was wrong. The feeling was so distinct and thick she could almost smell it in the air.
"Where. Is. Everyone?" she questioned again, determined to get some kind of answer.
"Miss Rawnie-" Danmonet whispered and took a step forward while Rawnie took a step back. It was strange how she could face down Dracula without giving an inch, but this small woman was suddenly forcing her back.
"Where are they?" again she asked, nearly shouting. The emotion she was feeling had to be blossoming over her face from the reaction she got from the normally sweet woman. Her plump face seemed to melt into a mask of stoniness, while her eyes changed from inviting to threatening.
"You need to calm down, miss," she spoke, her voice loosing its polite and friendly nature.
"Where is Van Helsing? Where is Charlie? Where is Carl? Where is Red?" Rawnie listed off the names of the missing, not really expecting an answer. Again, the aged housekeeper moved toward her. This time, however, the queen bolted away and back down the hall.
She didn't know where she was running, and she wasn't completely sure why she was running in the first place. It was just…wrong. Everything felt wrong. Her intuition was shrieking at her to get away from that woman, to run away. She picked up the hem of her robe to keep it from catching her legs. Walls of pictures and ornaments rushed by her as she sprinted, her legs carrying her to a place where she felt safe. A place where she thought she could find solace and protection. The basement. She flew down the stairs, ignoring the roughness of the stones beneath her bare feet. The door to the monsters lair came in sight, only driving her on at a faster pace. Her hands splayed out in front of her as she drew closer, fingers wrapping around the handle the moment they were close enough. Swinging the door open, Rawnie dashed into the small cell.
Once again, she was stopped in surprise.
"Wh-where…" the woman stuttered and stared wide eyed, and mouth gaping over the room. A room that was completely empty. The chains that were suppose to be holding the powerful vampire in, were laying limply on the floor around her. The bucket of blood that she had brought down only hours before was tipped on its side, the scarlet contents splattered along the stones, its smell even more pungent then before.
When her mind finally caught up with her and the realization that there was the count himself running free somewhere nearby, the gypsy queen felt all to vulnerable. Pulling the front of her robe together tightly, Rawnie slowly backed out of the room, keeping her back to the walls. She couldn't sense him around, but the thought that he was now free in her home to do as he wished did not sit well in the pit of her stomach. Creeping back towards the steep stairway, she continuously glanced over her shoulder, just knowing that he would somehow appear out of the darkness. When she was again on the top of the stairs, her shaky vision moved back and forth, side to side, searching for any movement. She was urged on when nothing met her eye.
Rawnie moved through the manor, keeping to the walls and staying as silent as she could manage. Though her feet made no noise on the carpet, her ears were filled with the sound of her struggling heartbeat. She was breathing so rapidly the new bruises along her back and side stung. The new pain served as a reminder of strength that rested within Count Vladislaus Dragulia. Moments ago she was rushing to him for refuge, and earlier in the day she was holding onto him in a white knuckle clasp…odd how an absence of restraints could bring such a fear bubbling to the surface. As she climbed the stairs to the second floor, she began wondering if the count would actually bring harm to her or if her heightened state of alarm was making her unease worse. He had saved her from the voices in her head, revealed the story of his situation, and crushed his lips to hers. Would he attack her from the shadows?
And what of Mrs. Danmonet?
A sound that she would usually chalk up to the buildings age getting the best of it, forced her back into a run down the long hallway. She screamed past closed doors towards yet another set of stairs that led to the cozy library above. Once to the foot of the stairs, her feet twisted beneath her bringing her down upon the unforgiving sharp steps. Biting her tongue to keep from yelling out at the pain that swept over her leg, Rawnie powered on up the curving stairs into the gullet of the tower.
"God damnit," the woman whispered harshly as she tumbled into the room that was crowded with stacks of books. Since she had failed to bring a light along with her, the room felt like a dark cave. Stumbling to her feet, the exhausted woman leaned against a ratty old couch, again pulling her robe together.
A brisk air ran over her back then. The Valerious froze against the couch, a very familiar lump forming in her throat. She felt like she was shaking, though when her eyes rolled down to her hands, she could see them staying still. A large gulp of the now cold air filled her tired lungs before she released it, sure that she would see a puff of fog in front of her face. A presence beat down on her back, as if begging her to turn around and look. Her expression was curiously staying even.
"Where is everyone?" Rawnie questioned far calmer than she felt. A tense few moments passed as she waited for a response. She felt like she should wait, but the adrenaline pumping through her veins forced her head around to peer at what she was sure was staring her down.
There he was in all his dark and beautiful glory. Dracula looked at her from across the narrow expanse of the library, his eyes as unreadable as ever. Rawnie made a full turn toward him and again was positive she could feel her body shaking under his gaze. This was not the cell and he was not bound in place. She found herself loosing the bravery that made her speak in the first place. He took a long step toward the woman, sending her back a few feet like a petrified child.
"Dear Rawnie…" his voice slithered out of his mouth like a silky strand of black ribbon. It wrapped around her neck, stopping her breath. Again, he moved forward, and again she reflected his actions.
"Where are they!?" the woman screamed at him, her fear raw. His face never waivered from its stoic countenance as she continued. "Did you kill them?"
"No," he immediately answered.
"Why the fuck should I trust you? How did you get out? Who let you out? What's going ON?!" her voice rising to an unappealing tone, bringing the man in front of her to quickly cover the distance and enclose her upper arms tightly in his hands. She writhed wildly in a failed attempt to separate herself from him.
"They are here to take you," he hissed in her face, calming her.
"They? Who's they? Danmonet?" she squeaked while eyeing him, her brain finally absorbing the fact that his dark hair was again loose, and falling over his shoulders and pale face. His clip was gone…the clip that held so much influence over him when in the hands of that…thing in the castle.
"Where is your clip?" Rawnie again spoke, not waiting for him to answer her previous pondering. His lips thinned in a rare sign of emotion playing over his face.
"She has come for both of us, dear Rawnie."
"She?" The Valerious almost spoke Mrs. Danmonet's name again, but something stopped her. She…she has come for them…The woman thought back to exactly who had been pursuing her ever since she entered Vaseria. She thought to when she first met the hooded form in castle Frankenstein, and to when Vladislaus himself told her of what importance she was. She…
"She…she's here isn't she? In the manor." Dracula stayed silent, but his answer to the question was all to clear to the woman still locked in his vice like grip. 'She' was here.
A voice beneath them shook Rawnie out of her trance like state. Mrs. Danmonet was calling her name a floor below, the old woman's tone stronger than she had ever heard it before. It was…frightening. A jerk of her body from the count brought her eyes back up to his.
"Your Danmonet…she is a puppet, a tool. She will only bring you to my controller."
Her eyes ran over his face briefly before her eyes narrowed, "And what is your task, Dracula?"
The pale man tilted his head slightly at this question, staring down his nose at her. If he was telling her the truth and his hairpiece was back into the hands of 'her', then the count was under 'her' control. He would be forced back into doing what 'she' tells him to do. Why wouldn't 'she' tell him to collect Rawnie?
"Why wouldn't you bring me to your controller as well?" she posed her thoughts, "Isn't that your job? Her errand boy?" Where this daring came from, she hadn't the foggiest. He never answered her, only bared his teeth while the hint of more voices sounded downstairs. Rawnie was sure that she knew his intentions, forced or not.
"Where is Van Helsing?" she whispered, internally bracing for any kind of reaction he might have. Again, she felt his fingers tighten on her already sore arms.
"He is alive. All of your companions are well."
"Are you lying?"
"Dear Rawnie," he mumbled with a chuckle that showed how irritated he was, "I am many things, but a liar I am not."
"I-," Rawnies words were cut short by a pang stabbing its way over her shoulder and down the rest of her arm. A sound of agony tore out of her mouth as her legs buckled beneath her. However, the counts iron clutch kept her from collapsing into a pile. A heated thump pulsated up her neck and on up her face. From behind the throbbing trumpeting in her ears, she could hear the voices getting closer. Closer to her refuge…their refuge.
The count jerked her up so her legs were again straight beneath her. His cold eyes peered around her briefly before darting back to her face, which was twisting in pain. The voices in her head, she thought, were better than this torture. The dark man looked her in the eye before twisting her around to face the other direction. Rawnies head swam at this sudden movement, hardly even noticing when the vampire pulled away the bit of robe that was covering the inflamed scar. As he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, cramming her against his front, they both could make out the sounds of feet ascending the stairs nearby. The gypsy's first reaction was to hide, but her body only stayed standing limply in the counts rough embrace. He was going to hand her over…he was going to give her to that thing and the traitorous Mrs. Danmonet. He…
Another shot of pain entered her shoulder as quickly as it dissipated. A stomach turning squelching noise entered her ear before her world began to become foggy around the edges. Even though she was held up, she felt her equilibrium begin to slip and subconsciously grabbed only the arm of the vampire that was pulled around her. She felt his raven hair along her bare neck and shoulder, but dismissed the sensation of something pouring out of her scar. The elderly face of Danmonet appeared before her as she reached the top of the stairs, her eyes widening at the site before her. Her thin-lipped mouth opened and closed a few times before she turned and started down the stairs again. Rawnie wasn't sure, but she thought she could hear the older woman shrieking out…
"Mistress! He has her, he has her in his teeth!" the startled voice rang out and faded with distance. Behind her, she could feel a strong rumbling in Draculas chest, the other cohesive thing she was really holding on to. Her eyelids struggled to stay open while her vision blurred, and fuzzed. She thought she saw more people entering the library. She thought she heard another familiar voice scream at Vladislaus Dragulia to release her. Before darkness overcame her, Rawnie felt the counts grip on her constrict as a hazy figure approached them.
There it is. Hope you liked it. Oh, and I have a little fun nugget to give anyone who read this. I have created a music video with Dracula and Rawnie. It's posted on YouTube at this address: .com/watch?v=L1RqxcNi6kU . Or just go there and look up 'A Demon In My Arms'. So, by all means watch it. It is for you after all. And…REVIEW!!!