Danny could barely sleep that night. He lay in his bed, hands tucked behind his head, staring up at the dark ceiling. Vlad's words echoed in his mind over and over.

Cursed.

Burdened with immortality.

Caught between life and death.

Bound to the castle.

What kind of creature had caught up to Vlad? Was it a monster he had vanquished come for revenge? Or perhaps it was some new kind of demon, one Vlad had failed to defeat in his own home. He could remember his own mother sobbing over Jack's new form, how she'd hidden away in the lab for days afterward. She'd only gone back to work with the love and support of her children. Had Vlad been all alone afterwards? Is that why he was such a colossal jerk all the time?

Danny yawned, the candelabra dimming as his eyes slowly began to close.

I won't let him be lonely any more...

Danny groaned at the gentle touch on his shoulder. He pulled the cover over his head and curled deeper into the mattress.

"G'way," he mumbled. The servant tugged lightly at the blanket, pulling it down to his shoulders. Danny wriggled, burying his head under the pillow and pulling it tight around his ears to muffle the silence. "Ten minutes," he promised. "Gimme ten minutes..."

There was a pause. And then a gentle weight of his usual suit being placed over his ankles. He couldn't hear it, but he felt the stirring of air in his room as the servant opened his door and left. He opened his eyes, his sleep blurred room slowly coming into focus. That was rude, he thought. She took the time to come and care for him, and he'd sent her away without a second thought.

He yawned and stretched, lingering thoughts of the previous night swirling around in his mind. He would try harder to be nice to Vlad, help him through this curse as best as he could. He grabbed his suit and padded down the hallway to the shower. The servant had long since learned that he didn't wear the jacket or tie, and she was careful to not include them in his morning bundle. Had he ever thanked her for picking up on that?

He'd gotten used to the lukewarm water that rained down on him, and despite the oddity of it, he had mastered the use of the soap nozzle. The towel he used wasn't as fluffy as the ones that came from the dryer at home, but it was quickly becoming just as familiar and comforting. Once he ran the towel through his hair, leaving it just damp enough to be frizzy, he folded it and laid it on the counter. He wondered, sometimes, if he should try and find the laundry room. It didn't feel right to leave every single mess to the servants.

He pulled on the slacks and buttoned up the shirt. The scab on his arm was soft, and he picked at it for a moment. Cuts like that always drove him crazy, and he couldn't wait for it to scar up and flake away.

He slowly made his way down the stairs. He figured would probably spend his day in the library. He'd already tore through all the books on space, as out of date and fantastical as they were, and now he was wondering if there were any on curses and how to break them. But before that...

Danny ran a hand over his stomach. He'd gotten caught up in talking to Vlad last night, he hadn't eaten as much as he normally did. And then all that tossing and turning when he should have been sleeping left him feeling rather empty.

The dining hallway was filled with the smell of food and soap. The servant must be washing dishes while she slow roasted whatever dinner was going to be that night. He smiled, thinking that she wouldn't mind if he snagged a bite as a taste test. He reached the kitchen, ready to beeline for the pantry when he heard it.

Someone was humming. Singing a few nonsensical notes, as though they didn't expect to be overheard.

Danny shuffled close, making as little noise as possible, and he peered around the corner at the intruder into Vlad's mansion. His hands were shaking, and he grabbed at the door frame to still them.

She was in a long blue dress, the hemline brushing along the floor as she bobbed in a small dance. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled back into an even longer braid, a blue ribbon intertwined in the thick locks. She apparently hadn't noticed Danny as she rinsed off a pan, and his eyes flew open as she set it aside. Was her skin green?

Danny wasn't aware he was speaking until he heard his own voice asking, "Who are you?"

The woman whipped around with a surprising amount of grace. Her red eyes were wide and she pressed her sudsy hands to green lips as her jaw fell. A small squeak escaped her, but she couldn't seem to get her throat to work.

He worried that she was the next victim, an "empty-headed and blind" woman forced to succumb to the curse laid upon this castle. "Ma'am, are you –?"

"You can see me?" the woman finally croaked. She stepped forward, gliding along the floor as though she were...

As though she were floating.

And that's when he felt it. The cool breeze that had dutifully awoken him, had left him his clothing and allowed him to sleep in.

"You're the servant," Danny breathed. His knees felt weak and he almost collapsed. But those gentle hands caught him, helping lower him to the floor. "But I – You... How can –?"

"How can you see me?" the servant didn't seem to have any trouble asking the question Danny was stumbling over.

Unbidden, the words from that first terrifying dinner came to him.

"I have servants, invisible to mortal eyes."

Was he... not mortal anymore? Surely Danny would have noticed if he'd died in the night, wouldn't he? His breath was coming in quick gasps, his chest heaving and his heart racing. Or was he just imagining all that? Was he really still and cold with his remains back in his bed?

The woman grabbed his shoulders with an unfamiliar roughness. She gave him a single light shake and her words were sharp as she spoke. "Master Daniel, calm yourself. Take a deep breath and hold it."

Danny tried. His breath shuddered and he coughed as it caught in his throat. But the servant continued to speak, walking him through the simple act of breathing until his body relaxed. He blinked, realizing belatedly that he'd been crying as his vision suddenly cleared. A silk handkerchief was pressed into his hand and he wiped at his face, hiding in the soft cloth until he no longer felt like he was going to pass out.

"What happened?" he asked quietly. "Am I dead?"

"No, Master Daniel," the servant said. "I do not believe so. The dead don't often panic like you have."

Danny glanced up. She was smiling. She'd made a joke. That was good, wasn't it?

"Then how...?"

"I do not know," she said, smile slipping slightly. "This has... never happened before. The only one that ever been able to see us is Lord Vlad."

Danny lowered his gaze, staring at the floor but not really seeing it. What did this mean? Was he now cursed as well? How could this happen?

His stomach growled, loud and long, and he blushed as the servant giggled. She urged him to stand, holding onto him as he swayed on his feet.

"Come along, Master Daniel. You should eat something. It will help to calm you."

He was led to the pantry, bread and fruit being pressed into his hands. He considered a small, tart apple, running his thumb over the dull surface.

"Danny," he said softly. The servant looked at him and he gave her a shaky smile. "I've been trying to get Vlad to call me that for ages. No 'master' and not 'Daniel'. Just... Danny is fine."

"All right then. Danny." She looked a little uncomfortable with the casual name, but when he nodded she relaxed.

"What's your name?" Danny asked. Now that he could hear her voice, it would be rude to continue to refer to her as "the servant."

The woman curtsied low, spreading her skirts and bowing her head with a reverence Danny didn't feel he deserved. "I am Dorathea of the Kingdom of Aragon."

"Is that... in England somewhere?" Danny ventured as he nibbled at the apple. He didn't want to be rude, but he was feeling lightheaded and figured it would be worse to pass out while talking.

Dorathea hid a giggle behind her hand. "No M- Danny. I come from a world beyond the veil. My country doesn't exist on this Earth, nor do any of my people."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Danny fiddled with his apple, guilt crashing down on him. Way to go, he thought angrily. She's under a curse and far from home and you go and –

"It's all right," Dorathea said, her lilting voice interrupting his self-depreciating tirade. "I never cared for any of my family anyway. They were brutes, the whole lot of them."

Danny looked up, and when he couldn't find any waiver in her smile, he finally felt himself relax.

With his stomach full and his guilt assuaged, Danny found himself walking alongside Dorathea as they made their way to the library. After being so alone for so long, he found he couldn't stop himself from talking. He told Dorathea about his family (but he left out how he was a moron in comparison), he spoke of his friends (but not how they were better off now that he was gone), and he tried to explain the concept of high school (without mentioning the bullies).

"The women of my country were never allowed to read or write, and yet it is encouraged in your world?" Dorathea had paused in her floating, falling a pace behind Danny in her awe.

Danny ducked his head to hide a grin. Her wide-eyed expression of shock made him feel important, like he was indulging the secrets of the universe to her.

"I actually read a study not too long ago," he said, failing to keep the amusement out of his voice. "Girls are actually doing better in school than boys are."

Dorathea flew in front of him, hands clasped and eyes glittering at the idea of her gender doing better than she could have ever prayed for. "Oh, Master Daniel," (she was still getting used to how informally Danny wanted to be addressed) "please don't tease me. Is this truly a time where women are allowed such freedoms?"

Before Danny could respond to her overwhelming enthusiasm, a sharp voice cut across the hallway.

"Be careful, Miss. Dora, or the boy will walk right through you."

Danny watched as Dorathea tensed, turning with a stiff nonchalance. It reminded him of when he saw Dash storming up to him after a pop quiz. A tall woman had just appeared, pulling her feet out from the floor. Bright red hair was piled high on her head, curving up into an appearance of horns. Or scythes. Her form-hugging dress looked closer to a suit, and it burned just as brightly, giving her the appearance of a wildfire, reinforced by the burning aura that flowed in heated waves. Lips, painted the color of blood, stretched into a smirk and she sat back in the air, crossing her legs at the knee.

Dorathea curtsied, a rigid and inelegant movement completely unlike the grace she had shown that morning. But, as she moved out of his way, Danny saw a mischievous smile spread across her face. "Greetings, Mistress Spectra. May I introduce you to young Danny?"

"Hello," Danny said, with a small wave. "It's nice to meet you, Spectra."

Danny couldn't stop the snort of laughter as Spectra's emerald eyes bugged out. She stumbled in the air, falling out of her relaxed lounge, and her jaw dropped.

"You...? You –? You?!" Spectra's tongue seemed to be stuck as she pointed long, sharp nails at Danny.

Dorathea's eyes were glittering, and Danny was certain she'd never been able to pull one over on Spectra like this ever before. "Yes, him, him, him."

"But, how can...?" Spectra continued to sputter.

"Will you continue to say nothing?" Dorathea asked, voice dripping with poisoned honey. She was definitely enjoying this. "Or will you continue to be so rude to our guest?"

The glare Spectra shot Dorathea could have melted steel. Danny shrank back a step, gulping as that caught the other servant's attention. Her shock seemed to drain out of her and she shook her head, dropping down until her high heeled boots hovered just a hair's breadth from the floor. "Danny, I do apologize for my rudeness. Certainly you can not think ill of my manners under the circumstances."

Danny swallowed down the rush of fear, feeling the heat building up under his collar. He couldn't shake the phantom images of Dash's fist flying toward his face, the cramped feeling of being stuffed in a tiny locker overnight. But this servant, Spectra, had never been overtly cruel to him. A little rough and somewhat flighty, certainly, but nothing to deserve this subconscious wariness.

"It's fine," Danny heard himself mumble. He tried to smile, and was almost blinded by the brightness of her grin. Her mouth was stretched a little to wide, her eyes a little too bright, and even the apologetic tone of her words seemed a little thick.

"I just remembered, Miss. Dora," Spectra said, voice a low purr. "I'm needed down in the ball room. Certainly you can look after our guest on your own, can't you?"

Without waiting for a reply, Spectra vanished through the floor, taking her sweltering heat with her. Danny watched as Dorathea pursed her lips, certain she wanted to say something.

"Dorathea...?" Danny asked, wondering if he should reach out for her.

But just the sound of her name jerked her back to the present and she turned to Danny with a sincere, gentle smile. "Forgive me, I seem to have gotten distracted. Do you still wish to go to the library?"

"You're fine." They took up their leisurely pace once more, though the air was distinctly heavier than it was before. "Spectra seems a little, uh, overwhelming, sometimes."

"That woman." The words were spat before Dorathea regained control of herself. "Mistress Spectra means well, she's simply..." It looked like hard work for Dorathea to come up with a nice enough phrase. "Different."

Different was a word Danny was familiar with. And he was familiar with what it really meant.

And Dorathea was absolutely correct.