Here you are, (un)Lucky Chapter 13. :) Thanks again for the reviews and the follows, I really appreciate it!
Dracula had said he would keep the dreams away.
Who knows, maybe he had tried.
Who knows, maybe this was actually real. The castle was weird enough to certainly allow what she saw to be inside the waking world.
Isabel found herself standing in a long hallway that made no sense. It was twisted and angular, like a funhouse that had been through an earthquake. It took every proper dimension of a room and warped it like a bad nightmare. It looked longer than it probably actually was - the whole hallway was a forced perspective trick. It twisted in the middle, rotating in a dizzying way, making each of the columns and arches warp against each other.
And that was before you factored in that it was mother-fucking upside down.
She was standing on the ceiling, as though that were a perfectly normal place to be. It made her kind of nauseous, standing next to a chandelier that had no business sticking up from the floor on a chain. Isabel tilted her head to the side as she looked at the flame that was flickering… downwards. Towards the 'ceiling.' That was actually the floor.
And yet, gravity for her felt normal. Like somehow only the castle itself had decided to change its mind about the proper direction of things. She walked up to the chandelier, stepping over the carved wooden medallions and directions. Reaching out, she poked the chandelier, sending it swaying back and forth as it naturally would. If, y'know, it were right-side-up.
"Fucking weird..." Isabel muttered to herself.
Or, she thought it was to herself.
"Oh, sweetheart… you don't even know the half of it."
The voice was wistful, but it made her hair stand on end. It had come from above her. Isabel looked up at the 'floor' above her - or down - or whatever - at the source.
A shadow was cast along the rug on the floor above her - like someone was standing there. But there… wasn't anyone. Not that she could see, anyway. Only a black shadow of an overly-sharp-angled figure. It was cartoonish - surreal, like the hallway it was standing in. It was of a man in a suit, his hands shoved into his pockets.
Isabel blinked, too confused to respond.
"Nothing's gunna happen without warning - down is the new up!" the voice sang. Isabel recognized the tune - Radiohead. One of her favorites. What the actual fuck was going on?! "Look, I'll level with you." the voice spoke again, no longer sing-song. It was a sharp voice to match the harsh contrast of the shadow. The shadow shifted as 'it spoke' - putting its weight onto one foot and pulling a hand from a pocket, gesturing idly. "Seems you've been kicked around like a tin can lately. And besides, I'm really impatient."
Suddenly the voice was no longer above her - but whispering into her ear.
"Hi."
Isabel screamed, whirled, and fell over - landing hard on her ass. She looked up at the figure that now stood over her - laughing. No. Cackling. It was a sound that would have made Vincent Price go pale.
The laugh was dripping in madness.
And so was the figure it belonged to.
The first thing that struck her about him was the stark contrast. His hair was long, and jet white - his suit as dark as the shadow he had appeared to be at first. A black tie against a white shirt, and skin that only appeared to have color due to its association with his even paler hair. The only color on him that she could see was a dark blue vest.
His features were vicious, cruel, angular - and his eyes shone with a madness that made Isabel recoil. He looked entirely... wrong.
Eric watched a lot of anime. He had subjected her (and everyone else) to his long binge fests of the genre. He had once watched one - ironically enough - about Dracula, more or less. And nazi's. Or vampire nazi's. Or something. Isabel hadn't paid much attention, and couldn't quite follow, to be honest. The characters were too 'sharp' - contrasted too much with their surroundings - part of the style, Eric had insisted.
And he looked like that.
"You think so?" the man piped, excitedly, looking down at himself. "That's exactly what I was going for! Am I as hot? I was going for 'hot.' Well, evil. Evil and hot. Did it work?"
"W… what?" Isabel stammered as she scooched backwards and scrambled to her feet, trying to put distance between them. It had heard her thoughts. She turned to run.
"No no, none of that-" the creature said as he waved a white-gloved hand in her direction.
Isabel let out a 'hrnk' noise as something grabbed her around the throat. A loud resounding 'crash' as brass and glass broke from overhead. The chain of the chandelier had let go of its quarry sending it 'falling upwards' and now instead wrapped itself around her throat. Isabel's hands flew to the chain, trying to pull it away from her. But it might as well have been welded there.
The creature stepped forward, smiling, quite pleased with himself, his hands stuffed back into his pockets. He approached her casually, still smiling. Isabel struggled and kicked outwards at him as he got near, and he only laughed.
"Oooh, you're feisty. I like feisty. I think I do anyway-" he pondered, speaking quickly, looking off with a sudden pensive expression as he debated aloud. "I mean, I'm sure I would. I don't see why not. Feisty seems fun. I think that's the whole point of why I exist in the first place, really. But - anyway - I digress-" he snapped back to her, and his expression changed just as quickly back to a sadistic one. "Either way, you kick me, and I'll break both your legs," he said with a vicious grin. "Either way, I come out on the up and up!"
"This is a dream. You can't really hurt me," Isabel snarled at him angrily, still yanking on the chain.
"Oh psh," he waved a gloved hand dismissively. "That's a load of horse shit and you know it. I can 'fake' hurt you just as bad. Watch-" he snatched her hand away from the chain, and she let out a scream as he snapped her fingers backwards, breaking them all with a sickening crunch.
And in the same moment as pain flooded her mind and made her gag in pain - it was gone. She looked at her hand - and her fingers were fine.
"He who giveth, taketh away," the creature said. This time, he was far too close to her for her liking. He smelled sickly-sweet, like rotting flowers. Before she could react, he ran his tongue up the side of her face.
"Fuck-stop it!" she shouted, trying to push him away from her, his hands pressed against his chest. It felt like fabric-coated brick.
He laughed again, tilting his head back as he howled in over-excited laughter. "Oh! Oh this is just too much fun!" He hopped from one foot to the other. "I totally get why the vampire does it now!"
Isabel felt the chain disappear from around her neck - but she wasn't free. He had grabbed her, one arm slung around her waist - the other holding her arm aloft like they were in some bizarre, awful waltz.
And sure enough, he began dragging her around, her feet scrambling to keep up as he moved them around in circles to unheard music, grinning wildly. "Who - what are you?!" she cried.
"I am your madness!" he laughed again, twirling her, and then dragging her back into him. She let out an 'unf' as she collided with him. But still, the dance continued. And he kept talking. "I am your madness given form. Given life. You are my creator!"
"Not - not possible-" Isabel felt out of breath - everything was happening too fast. She staggered as he dragged her around in his waltz.
"You shitting me?" he snickered. "Anything that's fucked up can happen in here. That's the whole purpose of this place." He finally stopped dancing, and looked down at her. God, he was tall - probably close to seven feet.
"I'm not insane," she insisted.
"Oh. No. You're not. But you should be!" he grinned, still not releasing his grip on her. "Soooo…. That means…"
"You're not real. You're just a bad goddamn dream."
"Sure," he said, and looked off, feigning taking her seriously. "I could be that. But, Drac-boy said he'd keep the dreams away, didn't he? So… either he lied, or… he wasn't counting on your dreams fighting back."
With the last two words, he leaned down close to her - pushing his face close to hers. She bent away from him, wincing. The action only made him chuckle, and he instead buried his face in her hair. "You smell amazing.." he murmured into her hair. "Although," he added, thoughtfully. "I really don't have anything to compare it to-" he pulled his head back an inch. "But don't take that the wrong way."
"Let me go."
"Nope!" he shouted suddenly, and it made her jump as he yelled into her ear. He laughed again, hard. "Sorry. Still learning my indoor voice!" he yelled again.
"Will you fucking stop it!" she hollered back.
"'Kay."
And with that, he let her go. She stepped back, pushing herself away from him and glaring at him angrily, rubbing her ear. "So you're all of what happened to me, manifest."
"Basically sums it up," he said with a mild shrug, smiling at her with something that she could only define as adoration - a sick, twisted, insane adoration. It made her stomach churn.
"How do I get you to go away?"
"Y'don't."
Isabel shook her head. "No. I do. When I wake up, I tell Dracula. And then you're dealt with."
"Oh? What's he gunna do?" the creature grinned again, his head tilting to the side, long white hair falling around his shoulders. The grin vanished, and now he was serious. "No. Really. I want to know." He hissed a breath in through his teeth and let it out slowly. "Or I will make you suffer more than you can imagine…"
"Huh? I-"
Isabel shrieked as he was on her suddenly. Vlad moved quickly - but this thing moved faster than was possible. It simply was in one place, and then another. Suddenly she was slammed back against the wall. One of his hands had her wrists over her head, and the other had snapped around her neck. The impact made her dizzy for a second as her eyes tried to refocus. "Tell me!" he snarled angrily.
"I don't- I don't know-" she stammered.
His mood changed as fast as it had come. "Good!" he smiled down at her. "And here I thought you were just making idle threats." He hissed the last words through his teeth, as if scolding her.
Isabel blinked as it dawned on her slowly what he had done. He had faked the anger, faked the threats - to trick her into admitting her bluff. She had just been played. Behind the mad eyes - that shone a sharp blue - burned a deep intelligence. Whatever he was, he was smart enough to manipulate.
Great. A brilliant psychopath. That's all she needed.
"I know, right?" he answered her unspoken thoughts with the sarcastic tone of a tv sitcom.
Isabel sighed. A brilliant psychopath who could read her mind. Even better.
"Can I fuck you?" he asked suddenly, the question sounding utterly innocent. "I think I'd very much like to fuck you."
"No!" she yelled, shocked.
"M-kay," he said with a shrug. "Maybe later then."
"No! Not later! Not ever!" Isabel shoved at him hard. "Goddamn it all, let me go!"
"My name isn't 'God,'" he laughed idly. "You know that, silly." He pulled her away from the wall a few inches, and then slammed her back into it. Isabel's head swam from the impact. "And I told you not to struggle."
Isabel groaned. If he wasn't holding her up, she probably would have collapsed from the hit. Her vision was swimming as he slipped a leg in between hers, pinning her against the wall. This let him release her hands.
Gloved fingers ran through her hair, rubbing the back of her head. He clutched her to him, and her head was suddenly pressed against his chest. The smell of sickly-sweet dying flowers was almost overpowering. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry… You made me do it," he cooed quietly down to her. "I don't know how strong I am. You shouldn't make me mad…"
Isabel wanted to sob. Wanted to scream or cry - anything at all. Her world was going from awful, to farcical, to 'just kill me already.'
"Hey, hey… no, none of that…" his hand around her throat slid to cup her chin and lift it to look up at him. His lips met hers, and she let out a 'mnfh!' against his lips as he kissed her.
His kiss lacked finesse. It was filled with a cruel and selfish hunger, and she felt him smile against her as he broke the kiss, running his tongue along her lower lip. His voice was low, husky as he spoke - his breath warm against her skin. "You sure I can't fuck you?"
Isabel grit her teeth, clenching her jaw. She wanted to wipe her face on her arm - but who knows what he'd do if she insulted him like that. If she fought him, he'd hurt her - he already proved that. "I'm sure," she insisted, angrily.
He let out an exaggerated sigh. "Fine…" He straightened up away from her enough to give her some air. "So before I let you wake up," he began idly, twisting one of her locks of hair around his finger. "I have a dilemma I need you to help me solve."
Isabel remained silent, and he sighed, annoyed.
"What's your dilemma, tall, dark and handsome stranger?" he said, his voice high and squeaky as he imitated a woman. "Well, I'm so glad you asked!" he continued, his voice switching back to normal. "I don't have a name!" He looked down at her expectantly, and growled when she didn't respond.
She spoke to avoid him hitting her again. "You don't have a name." It was a statement, not a question, from her.
"Nope! I'm entirely new," he grinned. "Created by a combination of every little piece of soul that used to be part of that broken fountain, and whatever I've found fishing about in that head of yours."
Isabel remembered that the 'Well of Souls' hadn't been flowing when she awoke - after Adrian had saved her from it. She hadn't thought about it at the time. It had been empty. "You.. broke the fountain?"
"No, dumbass," he sighed, now annoyed she wasn't following along fast enough. "You broke the fountain. You sucked up every drop of those busted-ass bits and pieces of dead people-" he snapped his fingers in front of her face as he spoke, as if trying to get an errant student to pay attention. "And instead of going insane, you made me instead!" he hollered. As she tried to recoil from the noise, he leaned into her ear and whispered. "I'll let you in on a secret… all those ghosts? Me. Waking up."
"Please, leave me alone," she half-whispered.
"What's better? Seeing ghosts everywhere, all the time? Or-" he drew out the 'or' dramatically. "Putting up with me." He smiled, quite proud of himself again. "But that's not the point. The point, is that I need a fucking name," he growled. "Focus, will you?"
"Sorry?" she replied, unsure of how else to respond. He seem pleased by that, and shrugged it away like it was no big deal.
"I was thinking Alucard, y'know, Dracula backwards, since that'd make sense and all, but that's already taken. SOooooo…"
"You're really going to make me do this?" The whole thing felt like a fever dream.
"You created me! It's only fair! It's your responsibility to name me."
In some bizarre, stupid way - it made sense. Isabel shut her eyes for a moment and then reopened them, hoping he'd be gone. But no, he was still there - pinning her to the wall with his leg, smiling down at her with a benign adoration despite the insanity in his eyes.
He was a ghost. A monster, haunting the shadows. A collection of dead and broken souls wearing the skin of a man.
"Wraith."
"Oooh I like it," he cooed. "Wraith… It fits… Not terribly flattering, but - if it looks like a duck and it quacks like a duck, I suppose." He stepped away from her and let her go, and she finally felt her weight back on her own feet. "I guess that means I'll let you wake up now-" he pulled something out of his pocket.
It's amazing how much like a lightswitch fear can be. One moment, nothing. Then, terror.
Wraith flicked his wrist with a practiced gesture, and the long, intricate pocket knife he had produced made its tell-tale 'shick' noise. The blade shone as he stepped back towards her.
"Wait-" she cried, but it was too late, as he dug the knife into the side of her throat.
Isabel awoke to hands on her shoulders, shaking her. She thrashed, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. Someone was screaming, and it took her a moment to realize it was her.
"Be still-" she heard a familiar deep voice try to calm her down.
She was shaking - and her hand went to her throat. No wound - no blood. No pain except the memory of it. Finally, she was able to look up at Vlad, blinking as she slowly became aware of her surroundings.
Isabel was lying on the chaise lounge in the room where she had fallen asleep - and he was sitting next to her on the cushion, his red eyes narrowed with concern, and frustration.
What kind of world did she live in now - that she was relieved to see him?
"I could not wake you," he spoke once she was calm enough. "You were crying out." Ah. That's why he was frustrated. He had been unable to stop it.
"I don't… even know how to explain what just happened to me," she said slowly, trying to force her hands to stop shaking. She moved to sit up, and he let her, removing his hands from her shoulders.
"A force of some manner was keeping you rapt-" he was watching her like a man would look at something through a microscope. "I was unable to break through your mind to see what it was, despite your weakened state."
"I don't think he wanted company, and holy fuck my head is getting way too crowded," she said with a sarcastic half-laugh, putting her head in her hands.
"I assume you will elaborate." Dracula was unamused.
Isabel did her best to do just that - she saw no reason not to tell him everything she remembered about what had happened. He stood up halfway through her explanation, walking from her to stand and stare into the fire still burning in the hearth. "It's possible it was just a really messed up dream," she said as she finished.
"Unlikely," he responded after a long silence. "What I sensed was not… you."
"I don't know which is better - that it was just a dream and I'm losing my mind… or now that thing is… wait - is it still inside my head?!" No matter the answer, she didn't like having 'Wraith' be real, and still inside her mind.
"I do not know. The dead are not my forte. They make themselves known to me only at their doing."
Isabel looked off - not sure what to say. Not sure what to do. Dracula was unreadable - just a cloud of darkness and anger. She stood up, and was glad to see that the nightmare hadn't left her too weak to do so. Walking to an ornate mirror, she looked at her reflection, and half expected to see 'Wraith' standing behind her. Luckily, she was alone in the glass. Running her hand through her hair to neaten it (although why she bothered, she had no idea,) she let out a sigh.
"Between what happened last night, and now this? Are you sure I'm not losing my mind?"
That drew a single, quiet laugh from him. She turned to watch him as he stood, gazing into the fire, still unreadably dour. "You are a resilient creature, my little dove," he spoke finally, his voice quiet. "Despite all my attempts to prove otherwise."
Isabel heard the 'tap-tap' of liquid hitting a wood surface.
It was then, that she noticed his fists were clenched tight enough that his sharpened nails were puncturing his palms. The blood was flowing through the space between his fingers and dripping to the floor. It was not an unreadable dour cloud that she was sensing from him - it was a carefully masked rage. But towards whom?
"Hey," she said quietly, walking up to him. "Hey, quit that…" Why did she care? She shouldn't. This was her captor. The creature that started this whole mess. The one that hunted her like prey. And yet, maybe Stockholm Syndrome had started to kick in.
She picked up a cloth napkin from the bar by the wall as she walked past and to his side. She picked up his wrists, and held his hands in front of her, palm up. He let her, watching her with a blank face as she urged his hands open. She knew his wounds would heal quickly, but she felt somehow obligated. She wiped the blood off of his palms with the napkin carefully.
"Dumbass," she scolded. With a blink, she remembered Wraith calling her that. She realized, as she gently did her best to wipe the blood from him - that Wraith had spoken a great deal like her. He had even sung, one of her traits. He had said he was the combination of all those dead memories - and part of her. Isabel had created him.
"No. You did not," Dracula spoke quietly, answering her unspoken thoughts. His voice was a dark rumble, and she could hear the restrained hatred and rage burning beneath. "I did." Isabel realized the rage and anger she sensed was directed… squarely at himself. "I am a fool," he growled. "Yet once more I have engineered my own failure…"
"What are you talking about?"
"If I had not thrown you to drown in that living nightmare, to see if you were 'worthy' of my time," he snarled. "This new threat would not plague us both. And to think in my arrogance - after this new hell resolves in whatever manner fate plays itself - you could look upon me as a man?!" Vlad laughed, cruelly, but at himself.
"Buddy, I hate to break it to you. I'm never going to 'look upon you as a man.'" When Dracula growled low in his throat, she shook her head. "That's not what I meant. That doesn't mean no one will ever care about you. I mean you're you. You're not a man. Haven't been one for longer than every civilization on this planet has ever lasted-" she laughed at the ludicrous nature of her comment. "If that's what you want, you're not going to get it. Not from me, not from anybody. Not really - not truthfully."
Dracula sighed, and she finally looked up at him from cleaning the palms of his hands. He stood there, his eyes shut, head bowed. He spoke, finally. "Then I am trapped in eternity, alone, as what you see before you. If I accept what I am, I destroy everything around me. If I deny what I am, I destroy everything around me."
Isabel released his hands, and she felt the dismay flicker in him as he thought she would recoil from him. A smart person would have. A sane person would have rubbed his face in it, and walked away. But Isabel couldn't. Not with her goddamn bleeding heart complex. And, to be honest, part of her understood. Couldn't pretend that she knew what it was really like - but could wrap her head around why it made him the way he was. Instead of doing the smart or sane thing (two things Isabel never had claimed to be,) she wrapped her arms around him, and stepped into him - hugging him. She rested her head against his chest, and was reminded for a moment he had no heartbeat. Not unless he was drinking from someone who did.
It took a long moment of surprise before he returned the gesture, and held her tightly to him. "You've done horrible things that I need to reconcile in my head. And that's going to take time - if I even survive this. But," She lifted her head to look up at him and raised her hand and gently ran her fingers across his cheek. His skin was cool to the touch, and he shut his eyes, leaning into her caress. "What you are… what you've become, what you've withstood… You have every reason to be the way you are. I look at someone like Adrian, and I see someone who hasn't suffered a fraction of what you've endured and I feel from him nothing but emptiness… bitterness. Yet you have hope. After all this time… after everything." Isabel smiled sadly, and placed her palm against his cheek, letting her thumb run gently back and forth along his skin. "You deserve someone to love you for who and what you really are. Not as a man. As Dracula. I don't know if I'm the answer, I can't promise that I am..."
Her speech lost its momentum as she trailed off. Isabel was never good at finishing a lecture. She stood up on her tiptoes to reach him, and placed a kiss on the corner of his mouth, the sorrow radiating from him almost making her cry.
Vlad held her to him tightly for a moment before releasing her. He finally opened his red eyes, glinting in the firelight, and lifted a hand to gently run it through her hair. It was clear he wish to speak, but could not find the words. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss against her forehead. Finally, he found words, his voice barely above a whisper.
"You pay me too much kindness, Isabel."
It was the first time he had used her name, and she wasn't sure why it impacted her so. But she didn't have time to debate it, as he spoke again - his mood shifting back to his normal fuge.
"Let us see if we cannot rid you of this phantom and end this before it begins."
He never did let her get her footing, did he? "I thought you said you didn't handle ghosts?"
He smirked. "I do not. But I know someone who does. There is a change of clothes in the bathroom," he said with a gesture. "I will return shortly to fetch you - I will make some preparations in the meanwhile."
And with that, he was gone. Not in the jet of fire that was customary (she was standing next to him, she was glad he chose a different method,) but instead into a swarm of bats that filled the room and poured from the window. Isabel threw her arms over her face and let out a shriek, startled.
He was a mercurial bastard, that much she knew.
Isabel was glad to have a chance to change and straighten herself out. God, what she wouldn't do for a cup of coffee. Oh well. Dracula had come to collect her after about an hour, and he brought them both (in a roar of flame this time) to a part of the castle she had never seen before.
The rooms seemed divided in half - cut down the middle between science and magic. Literally as if a line had been drawn down the middle. One side of the room was filled with beakers and vials, bubbling equipment and buzzing pieces of machinery like a rendition of Frankenstein's castle. The other, filled with trinkets, jars of pieces of… Isabel stopped trying to identify them after she got to the jar of human eyes. She blanched, and did her best to follow close behind Vlad.
Do not wander off, he spoke into her mind. I cannot trust you will be safe here in my absence.
Isabel's steps faltered as they came across a body that had been strung up and dissected, the skin pulled away and held back with pins. Part science project, part voodoo doll. It had taken on the grey and ashen pallor of a body long since dead and preserved. The brittle flesh had flaked away in parts, showing only ashen bone. Isabel let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, feeling ill. "Not a problem…" she muttered back, and heard him laugh once in response.
Finally they came to a larger chamber - a circular one that domed over head. It looked like an atrium - or a study of some kind. The second floor was lined with shelves and bookcases, machinery and samples and specimens. Still split down the middle between the new and old arts. Between witchcraft and -
"Oh. I get it," she felt stupid. "Witch doctor."
Dracula glanced back at her and smirked. "Indeed."
"Who is it that you have brought us, hm?!" A voice called from nearby. It was screechy and changed pitch too quickly. The accent sounded foreign - german, maybe?
Isabel stepped in close to Dracula, who only looked down at her with a mild smile. I see you no longer hold fear of me, he spoke silently into her mind.
Priorities. She responded, and he laughed again.
Vlad turned his attention to the creature that had spoken. "I come with an inquiry."
The monster that approached may have been human, once. It was hard to tell. He was balding, and what hair he did have was grey and mottled. It walked with a strange and limping gait, its body stitched together at every joint like a ragdoll. An old pair of goggles were stitched physically onto its face, obscuring its eyes. With it's left hand, it reached up and pulled one of the magnifying lenses of different strengths on wires down over the main goggles with a 'click.' His limbs were too long, and his skin was yellowed and sallow - the tones of the different flesh showing lighter and darker patches. Revealing that he had made himself out of… other pieces of other people. At least two people by her count, maybe more.
"We see that, we see that…" the creature walked up to them with his strange gait, and reached out his right hand - and Isabel recoiled as she realized his fingers had been lopped off at the third knuckle, the ends of his fingers replaced with scalpels, rusted and caked with blood.
A hand on her back kept her from retreating further. But that didn't stop the fear from driving her heart to beat like a drum in her ears. "You will not harm her," Vlad growled at the creature.
It flinched visibly and pulled back like a dog that had been scolded by his owner. "Yes, Master… Of course not. How can we be of service?"
We? Wait. Who was 'we?'
"I believe she may be possessed. I wish you to rectify this problem."
"Oooh… Yes, yes, of course. You wish to speak to the other one, then."
"If it is not too much trouble."
"Never! Never." The creature then grabbed its head with both hands - and - Isabel let out a groan as there was a sickening crunch as it spun its head around backwards.
Only to reveal another face.
Stitched to the back of its own head was another head. Split in half, like the room itself. This one had dark skin that was ashen at the edges with rot and mold. Its eyes blinked open, and the yellow stain around the retina looked fetid and putrid. It grinned, teeth stained black. He raised his left hand - which Isabel now realized was dark in tone, unlike the right hand with the scalpels grafted into the flesh. He rubbed his hand over his face, pulled in a breath, letting out all go at once. "Hello, hello, hello… come, come. There's work to be done!"
The thing turned to lead them further into its… laboratory, or whatever it was. The face of the 'doctor' was still on the back of the head of the 'witch' half of the 'witch doctor' combination, eyes now shut and dormant. It was one body with two faces, made from two people.
The had on her back urged her forward, and Isabel reluctantly followed after the creature as it walked through to the other end of the room and through a maze-like set of hallways into another chamber.
"Oh, god…" Isabel couldn't help but mutter as her stomach roiled at what she saw.
So that's what happened to them…
The doctor who had paid them to find the sword and the corpse - the doctor who had started this whole affair, and his chubby little assistant. The two that had started this entire mess. They were now… part of an experiment of some kind. It was impossible to tell what kind, except to play 'mix and match' with organs, skin, flesh and fluids. The two were laid out on tables next to each other. Isabel had hoped they were dead, but… no. The fluid that was being pumped in and out of their bodies on corrupted 'life support' systems was moving. Their chests, ribcages exposed and covered with a thin sheet of plastic, were swelling with breath as their visible lungs expanded with air.
Her hands went to her mouth, as she looked away.
"They desired immortality. I have granted their wish." Dracula turned her to look at him, and narrowed her eyes down at her. "Do you feel such for the suffering of all, or do you feel some particular kindness towards them?"
"I'd- Look, that's sick and disgusting and it doesn't matter who you did that to-" Isabel shook her head as came to a horrible realization. "I… I just realized I don't… even remember their names…" They were the reason they were in this mess - their stupid job for that stupid sword, and she couldn't even remember what the hell their names were. Somehow that made her feel worse - feel more responsible for their plight.
"Come. This place is filled with suffering. Theirs is neither unique nor the worst I could show you." Dracula turned her towards the doorway, where the sewn-together creature was waiting for them, watching their scene play out. "You may decide your opinion on the matter another time."
Isabel tried not to look at the figures on the tables by the wall as he lead her out of the room, instead wrapping her arms around herself. She had her gloves - but no coat or sleeves. The small back room that she was taken to was filled with hanging totems from the ceiling. Charms and constructs of bone, rock and wood, trinkets with archaic symbols scratched on their surfaces.
The monster shuffled around the room, opening jars and peering into them, muttering to himself. "Sit on the table, missy-" he instructed her as he pulled things from dusty, crooked shelves. Isabel glanced up at Dracula, who only nodded once, confirming the instruction.
Letting out a wavering breath, she stepped forward and climbed onto the table in the center of the room, trying not to think about how many people had died and been tortured upon it. She was glad she had her gloves - they saved her from having to find out.
It felt like every bad doctor's appointment in the world, all rolled into one. "So," the creature began from behind her, and she turned her head to watch as it picked up a wood cage on a table and shook it - and whatever was inside squeaked and struggled. It laughed, put the cage down, and moved on. "You're the one who broke the Well, eh?" Its accent was thick - which its counterpart did not share in.
"I didn't mean to," she responded, trying not to sound defensive. "I don't remember doing it."
"I don't s'pose as you do," he put down a couple of jars in front of a mixing bowl, his back to her, and began plucking things out of the jars and stirring them together in the bowl in front of him. The room smelled disgusting, and whatever was in those jars made it worse. Isabel put the back of her hand to her nose and tried not to retch.
"I haven't seen that well run dry in all my years - I don't know as anybody has. Maybe it'll fill back up. Probably will. Enough deaths here to fill it again soon, I picture." He sniffed the bowl, grumbled, and went to go fetch another jar. "I don't know why the Master be puttin' you in that fountain to begin with, girl - but I reason that's why you're here now. Too much soul for such a little body."
He poured the contents of another jar into the mixing bowl, stirred it, sniffed it, seemed better pleased with it this time, and took a pile of sticks and shoved them into the mess. He turned and walked towards her with the bowl of sticks and what looked like roadkill and black jam - and smelled foul. He placed it in her lap. "Hold that."
Isabel reached out and gently took hold of it. "I'm not eating it," she warned him.
"Pah!" the creature laughed and shook his head. "No, no, that won't be needed." He turned, and came back with a flint and striker, and held them over the bowl. Once, twice, and the stuff in the bowl lit in the shower of sparks. The goop that had mixed with the twigs and herbs caught like burning oil - and the smell was vile.
Isabel turned her head, trying not to yack into the bowl of burning goop. After the first jet of flame, it seemed to calm down - turning from bright flame to a smouldering flicker. The smoke that rose up from it smelled not nearly as bad as it had before.
"You need to be in that smoke, girl… We need to see what you've got inside you."
Isabel sighed, and straightened back up. The smoke stung her eyes and she squeezed them shut - and just tried to stay calm. Just tried to breathe. The smoke tasted like ash and burnt herbs - but luckily didn't taste any worse than that.
Suddenly, it felt like something had grabbed her around the heart and yanked. She gagged, and breathed in more of the smoke in one gulp, and the feeling got worse. It was like something was trying to tear her open. It wasn't a physical pain - but one that cut straight to her soul. She fought back as best she could, struggling to keep the thing from tearing her apart.
"No, girl… No. Let go. Let it be."
"I can't-" Isabel gasped, and the more of the smoke she breathed, the worse the pain became.
"Breathe it all in girl. You're strong. I see that. But you gotta stop strugglin.'"
Isabel tried her best to relax, but whatever it was that was pouring into her body from that smoke tore at her body and her mind.
The contents of the bowl in her lap flared up - and burned a vicious black, and the smoke seemed to… swirl in front of her. She went to beg Dracula to make this stop - but the tendril of black smoke in front of her saw its opportunity and took it - diving down her throat.
The bowl clattered, empty and clean to the ground as her hands dove to her throat as she felt it rip through her like fire.
Isabel's mind went white with pain.
Vlad watched as the creature did its work. Watched with passive authority as it mixed the ingredients in the bowl and set about its goal. When the smoke had entered Isabel - he had fought the urge to step forward.
He felt his share of the pain that knocked her unconscious. But she did not collapse. Instead, she sat there, head rolled to one side, shoulders limp, eyes staring unseeing at the ground.
"Come forward!" the witchdoctor commanded, speaking to whatever it was inside of her. "Leave her body be, ghost!"
"Why don't you come in here and make me?" a voice responded from her - in her voice, and yet not. "And I'm not a ghost. I'm something new." A cruel smile twisted across her lips as her hand darted for a knife that sat next to the table. She moved to slash the creature's throat open - but Vlad was faster, snapping a hand around her wrist and stopping the blow. "Too slow!" 'Isabel' whined. Vlad supposed that this was the creature she had named Wraith. "This body is too slow."
"Then give it up," Vlad growled. "And find yourself another."
"Bitch please-" Wraith said with a dramatic sigh. "Of course I wanna find another. I don't wanna be stuck in her body. I wanna be in her body, and I can't do that at the same time, now can I? Hey, how is it, by the way? She any good? Or should I go find somebody else?"
Vlad resisted the urge to deck her. It would be counterproductive at best. He narrowed his eyes, and hissed angrily through his teeth. "Watch your tongue."
"Yeah, sure, whatever." Isabel looked down at herself, became distracted and snickered. "I have tits." Suddenly, she gagged, and coughed. "Hey… that hurts!"
Vlad turned, following Wraith's ire - to see the witch doctor now standing over his altar, chanting something low, and swirling his hands about.
"Hey!" Wraith cried. "Quit it!" She then snarled angrily, and tried to leap off the table to attack the witch doctor. Instead, Vlad easily slammed her back to the table, pinning her wrists to her sides. 'Isabel' howled and thrashed, kicking violently, face twisted in hatred. "This body is weak and fragile and I will kill you all for this!"
"Work quickly," Vlad snarled at his minion by the wall. The witch doctor finally turned, and walked towards them with a bundle of objects tied in twine in his hands. He was still chanting, eyes rolled into the back of his head.
With a gesture, he snapped the bundle in half - and Isabel screamed. But it wasn't just one scream - it was two. Two different notes at the same time - hers, joined by the voice of a man howling in pain. The black smoke rushed out of her mouth, swirling around the ceiling of the room.
"We must contain it-" the witch doctor cried, and turned to get another tool. Before Vlad could react, the smoke dove from the ceiling and tore through the chest of the witch doctor - blowing a hole straight through the fragile body of the stitched-together and rotted corpses. He gurgled and collapsed. Wounded, but not dead. The smoke swirled again, lingering by the door. A voice spoke, distant but clear.
"This isn't over."
Vlad sighed, and lowered his head, still grasping the wrists of Isabel, now unconscious on the table. Truer words were never spoken - for him, it never seemed to end.
When she woke up, she could have almost sworn she was having a flashback. She was laying on his chaise lounge, pillow under her head, blanket pulled up over her. Who knows how long she had slept for. Hours? Days?
Running her hand along her eyes, she finally managed to blink her eyes into focus. The fire was low, but still burning. There was no one else in the room - although she had to check twice, peering into the shadows of the room to see if he were looming somewhere amongst the stark contrasts of light and dark.
He couldn't have been gone long - the fire wasn't out.
Voices in the other room. She slipped her legs off of the chaise lounge, she stood up, and walked towards the door that lead into another room. Dracula's living quarters were large and lavish, she saw - but at least they were far more tastefully decorated than Carmilla's attempt to unseat Versaille.
Isabel knew that attempting to hide her presence was fruitless. She assumed that even if she was attempting to be quiet, he could hear her coming from a mile away. The door to the other room was open, and as she approached, she heard a voice she didn't recognize.
"We have halted the advance of the Castle at your command, Master."
"What else do you have to report?" Vlad's voice. Isabel stood by a bookcase, not rounding the corner, not wanting to intrude.
"The scouts say that we are keeping the humans easily at bay. Their technology has increased, but their wisdom has shrunk. The soldiers they send inside the walls are easy meat, and our new 'conscripts' are happy for the practice hunts. Their heavy artillery is useless against the castle walls. It seems all legend of our existence has faded. No sign or whispers of a Belmont or Helsing."
"Good."
Nervousness on the part of the other speaker. Trepidation. "There is the matter of your… son, Sir. He is still roaming unchecked inside these walls."
"And he will continue to do so. He cannot pass into the keep without my permission."
"If I may be so bold, Sir, you've granted that permission in the past, and-"
"Enough. He will not pass. Ensure that your defenses are prepared, Walter - and allow me to deal with my own concerns."
"Very well, Sir." A pause, and with a whirl of what sounded like wings, she felt the other man leave.
"You may come out now, little dove," Vlad spoke after the other man had gone. "You hide poorly - I can sense your thoughts."
"I wasn't hiding," she defended herself as she walked into the other chamber. Vlad was standing at a table in a vest and shirt without his usual long coat, looking down at a table with scattered papers. "I didn't want to interrupt."
"Hrm," Dracula replied, distractedly, looking down at the documents.
Isabel hadn't seen a flicker of movement in the corner of her vision since she had woken. She all too keenly remembered the incident with the witch doctor - the pain, the smoke, and then nothing.
Vlad was leaning heavily on the table, his head half-lowered, burdened. Isabel walked up to him and placed her hand on his arm. "Is it gone?"
"It has left your body."
Isabel understood the weight of those words. It meant that 'Wraith' was now loose in the castle… and god only knew what could happen now. "Can I ask you something?"
"My willingness to answer has never stopped you before," he said, not turning to her.
"Why let Adrian roam around unchecked? I saw him lose to Lyon… You have people who can beat him, even if you don't want to do it yourself."
"He is my son. I cannot condemn him to death," he said, still not turning to look at her. "You know that."
"Then why make him run circles in the wings? Unless-" and then, suddenly, it made sense. "Oh."
Dracula sighed, and lowered his head, putting a hand to his forehead, looking very much like he had a migraine that he wished would go away. He didn't speak, and it was her turn to be drawn out by his silence. "You're keeping him in the wings as, what, an insurance policy? If you're forced to do something you don't want to do - you let him in to kill you?"
"Hrmh," was his only response.
"Or it's about as close to him as you can get without a fistfight breaking out. Have you tried, y'know, talking to him?"
"And what good do you believe that will do?"
Isabel sighed, and shook her head. "He's an idiot, and you're an asshole. No wonder you two are stuck in this endless cycle."
"You believe simply 'talking' to him will fix this? I have been trapped in this endless pattern for centuries, only to drag him into it with me."
"I believe it can't hurt to try," she responded, walking towards him and resting her hand on the table near his. She wondered if he would lash out and strike her, but she doubted it. So she put a hand gently on his back. "I believe it's always worth a shot."
They stood in silence for a long moment before he spoke. "We shall see."
"Stubborn," she scolded, and looked down at the table at all the papers in front of him. Some looked like reports of the city - sketches of things scouts had seen. But mostly, they were letters with envelopes marked with names and scripts that looked as though they were all written by different people - each in their own handwriting, some looked antiquated in style - some new.
"My children write home," he answered her curiosity and she looked to see him smirking idly. "Each of them hearing of my return, write to know their place or beg for power, pleading their loyalty. Each one in turn hails my return to life as a boon, each one filled with lies."
He hissed the last words angrily through his teeth, and Isabel almost recoiled at the rage there. Sharp nails scraped the surface of the table as he crumpled a paper and tossed it away. Vlad straightened suddenly, and looked at her curiously. "You can detect lies when spoken, can you not?"
"... Yeah?"
Isabel let out a small yelp as he picked her up and put her down on the table, moving to stand in between her legs as he looked down at her with a pensive expression. One hand rested against her hip, the other was now toying with a strand of her hair. The sudden movement was disorienting - she didn't know if she'd ever get used to how quickly he moved.
"And if a lie were to be spoken by one wishing to conspire against me - would you tell me so?"
Isabel blinked, looking up at him curiously. What was he asking her? Was she loyal to him? Would she help another vampire kill him? Hide the lies, or protect him? Isabel looked away from his red eyes, boring into her.
"Well?"
She took a moment to consider the whole. He had hunted her - stole her friends and perverted them into monsters. He had tortured her. Kept her prisoner. He was responsible for the death and suffering of thousands of people both innocent and guilty. Would she protect him?
If he showed her the door right now, would she be sad to leave?
"I don't know…" was all she could respond.
A finger under her chin tilted her head to look up at him. She expected anger - bitterness. What she saw was a faint smile. "The truth. Good."
A hand around the back of her neck and he kissed her - hot with a passion that made up for his cool skin. His hand around her hips pulled her towards him, and she moaned against his lips as she felt him press against her. One of her hands was gripping the fabric of his vest at his waist, the other resting on his chest as he kissed her.
He broke the kiss slowly, instead moving his lips to her ear, and gently taking the lobe into his mouth, biting down onto it with a low growl in his throat. She shuddered, feeling like putty in his hands. "When you know the answer… I will set you free… Or I will make you mine… the choice is yours."
She knew what she would do eventually, it was just a matter of what she was willing to trade for it.
"I have a bargain to make with you…" she had no idea where the thought popped into her head. But it did.
"Oh?" he sound enormously pleased. With another low growl in his throat that sounded more animal than man, he lowered his head to graze his teeth along her neck - threatening but not biting down. Isabel didn't want to begin to admit what it did to her.
"This castle can travel, right? Pick it up and move it… to some desolate, empty place. Somewhere it won't do any harm. Northern Canada. Greenland, the south pole, the outback the moon - I don't care… somewhere it'll stop killing innocent people. Do that, and I bet I can convince Adrian to go, if you'll let me try."
He laughed once in his throat, and pulled his head back from her throat, hovering his lips over hers as he spoke, his breath cool against her skin. "And what do I gain in exchange?"
Isabel couldn't barely believe the word that left her mouth. "Me."
Vlad laughed. "I already have you, my dear."
"No, you don't… not all of me. Not yet. I know what you're planning… You want to make me like Tim - a companion. You want someone who'll live halfway, with you, for eternity. But you need me to be willing, don't you?"
He paused, caught off guard. His face still close to hers, stopped like a moment in time - not even breathing. Isabel counted the seconds before he finally answered her. "Yes."
"Then… that's the deal."
"There is no returning from such things," Dracula warned. "There is no escape but death."
"You said it yourself, didn't you? That was the only escape I was ever going to have."
He laughed again, and rested his forehead against hers. "Remarkable child," his lips met hers again in a slow kiss, parting again after a long embrace. "To play me so well at my own game." He pulled back, looking down at her with a muddled expression of passion and curiosity. He stroked her hair back away from her face. "Very well. I will let you speak to my son… I will let you try. If you succeed - and he agrees to leave this place, or cease his aggressions - I will upend this place to somewhere it will do no harm."
Isabel let out a breath, not really sure what she had gotten herself into. "Besides, better to sort out this whole... 'Wraith' thing, somewhere there aren't armies trying to bomb you."
"Wise beyond your meager years."
"I have a lot of lives worth of memories buzzing around my head, don't forget," she grumbled.
"Yes, yes," he grabbed her legs and pulled, sliding her forward and knocking her off balance, falling back onto the table with a startled 'unf!' "Now be quiet." He leaned down over her, and his lips met hers with a fiery, impatient hunger.
Isabel's head swam with the heat that rushed her body, and kissed him back, no longer fighting her own desire. No longer denying to herself what she felt when he touched her. No longer denying the pleasure in the fear and the thrill of the danger that he brought.
His sharp nails ripped her shirt to shreds, hungry for what lay underneath. One of his claws had nicked her skin, and his lips left hers to find the wound. She moaned, deep in her throat as his tongue lapped at the wound along her breast. Reflexively - not really understanding what she was doing, she wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed, pulling his arousal hard against her body, against the heat she felt growing there.
He snarled, his lips breaking from her body for a moment. "You will be the death of me…"
"Promises, promises…" she replied through a breathy laugh.