Thanks again for the reviews! Here's another chapter. Hope you enjoy!

We are creatures of blood - and such things follow us wherever we go.

Maverick's words rang in her head as she found herself in a tide of blood - drowning in the boiling waves, tossed about like so much seafoam.

Blood is the currency of life.

Blood is the currency of death.

And it remains doubly so for those trapped in between. That is where she was now, she knew - trapped somewhere between life, and death.

She had found herself in this ocean once before - when she had touched the sword that Dracula had been buried with. When she was trying to find a way out of the her predicament with Dracula, and had failed in spectacular fashion. The sword had contained the castle itself. Now she was in it again - feeling the hot liquid around her, pressing against her. It was a deafening roar around her, wave over wave, driving her deeper and deeper into the abyss with each impact

He is ours!

Isabel pushed back, kicking and struggling as hard as she could - fighting to keep above the churn of the storm. Fighting to keep her mind her own. A dream, that's what this had to be. But here, in the castle - everything was possible. Dreams - especially hers, were as good as reality. A battle of wills made visceral and lucid.

You will not take him from us!

It was trying to kill her - right here, right now - she knew it. She summoned everything she could, and forced back against it. "Stop!"

The deafening noise stopped abruptly, leaving a ringing in her ears. Without warning, it was like the ground was suddenly beneath her feet. An elevator of hard surface that pushed her upwards - or maybe the blood was draining away. It was impossible to tell.

But now, instead of being lost in the waves of a hurricane, she was kneeling in a flat, glass-like lake of blood. It stretched on around her as far as she could see, with nothing to disturb the perfect stillness of the endless liquid. The world was lit by an ugly, putrid maroon sky. It looked as if there were clouds, but no sun behind it, leaving it uniformly glowing a sickly, languid color. It had the look of the sky before a bad storm. When the world is 'side lit' and overwhelmingly quiet.

She pushed herself up to standing, sending ripples in the surface of the blood flowing outwards from her. Looking down at her hands, they were clean, and somehow perfectly dry. It was like the blood wanted nothing to do with her.

You will not take him from us!

The voice repeated itself - booming and whispering - unbearably loud and silent all at once. The voice was shouting straight into her mind. She winced, putting her hands to her ears. "Stop yelling at me!"

Something was suddenly under the blood that just barely reached her knees. It was like a shape in front of her was moving underneath the surface. Slowly, what it was began to be clear. Oh god. Isabel jumped backwards as a figure stood up from the liquid. No. More like it formed from the viscous substance.

Dracula stood before her. But it wasn't him - not really. Instead of long black hair, it was jet white - as she had seen once in a memory. His eyes, instead of just the irises being red - were entirely taken over in shades of the color, from lid to lid. He was dressed entirely in deep and darkened shades of crimson. He moved towards her - and it was like he were made of the blood around them, struggling to keep its shape. The red liquid dripped from his hands or the trim of his clothing now and then, into the ocean of blood at his feet.

It was the castle, taken form. Taken his form. Isabel stepped back as he stepped forward. She was forever to be pursued by the vampire king, it seemed. "Very well - this body should better please you." the creature hissed.

The creature that stood before her oozed blood as he moved, looking like he would melt at any point - constantly forming and reforming from the blood around him.

"It's quieter, so y-yeah, thanks-" she stammered, uselessly, trying to put together everything that she was seeing - everything it had said so far. "You're the castle, aren't you."

"I am no more the castle," the creature said through a cruel laugh, "than a bolt of lightning is the sky itself!" He stepped towards her as if he would tear to pieces.

"Okay, okay, I get it… I get it. I don't mean any trouble, I really don't- " she raised her hands, trying to show she was harmless, didn't want to fight. That she wasn't a threat.

It didn't seem to believe her, and stepped forward again. "You will not take him from us. He belongs to us!"

Isabel took another step back, keeping her hands up. "I am not taking him from you… I'm not taking him anywhere."

"Lies!" the creature howled.

"I'm not lying - I'm not lying!" she cried as it lunged towards her. She staggered backwards and fell into the thick liquid, barely managing to keep her head above water.

"We will not be imprisoned again. We will not be abandoned by him once more!" the creature roared angrily at her.

"Please. Please calm down," she was shaking, and knew that if this thing could kill her, permanently, in both the dream world and the real one, it would do so - and do so happily. All she needed was the castle itself trying to kill her. "Give me a chance to explain." Isabel pushed herself up to standing, still holding a hand out towards it in defence - trying to placate the angry…. thing.

"You are pretty words, a pretty mind, and a pretty body to lure him away from us. All are lies." the creature stalked towards her again. Isabel made ripples in the bloody lake when she moved. But he did not. He left the surface still as glass.

"You're mad… because he locked you all up in that sword - and tried to escape this repeating pattern," she surmised. She remembered the images of Harker and Van Helsing, locking Dracula away in that crypt, when she had touched the iron door to the vault. Vlad had stuck the castle (and, she guessed, everyone with it,) away in that blade to escape his fate. It hadn't worked. "You're afraid that if I survive this, that I'll convince him to do it again? And then what, galavant around the world with me instead? Play tourist through history? Settle down and have some nice little cottage on a lake?" she snorted. "You can think what you want of me, I'm not stupid."

"Then what do you wish for?" the creature retorted. "Freedom? There will be none for you but in death. And when you die within our reach… you will never return," it hissed angrily. "The others, we let linger in death - but you… your soul we will consume entirely… You reach too easily across the veil."

She felt a chill run through her as the castle threatened her with oblivion. Being an empath, threats were far more visceral for her than for most, as she could feel not only the threat itself, but the anger that the threat belied. "Listen to me," she insisted. "I don't know what I want, but it's never been to try and get him to leave this place. I'm trying to get him to move everything, fine. But never to abandon it. Why would I do that? You have my only friends in this world. I walked through your doors trying to save them. If I convinced Dracula to trap you all away, I'd be doing the same to them, wouldn't I?"

It snarled, but she saw its conviction falter, of only for a moment - so she kept talking. "I have no reason, none at all, to make him leave you. I swear it."

He belongs to us!

That echoed in her mind again, deafening. She recoiled in pain, and tried to push the voice from her mind. It almost dropped her to her knees. It took all her strength to talk, but her voice sounded far-away in her own ears through the ringing it left behind. "You know him better than I do! You know the path ahead is nothing to him but death, and hatred. And how badly he yearns for something else. He's tried to abandon you before. Killing me won't stop that. Letting me live, might."

"Explain," it hissed through its teeth.

"Here're your options… kill me, and he goes back to trying to find a new way out of this cycle. Let me continue to try and become 'bound' to him, or whatever, and I most-likely die anyway. If I succeed, just maybe, he might be content for a time…"

"Until he bores of you, and has you cast into the forges like that little insect."

The thought of being chucked into a molten vat of iron made her stomach twist, but she tried not to let her incredibly visual imagination put too many details into it. "And then you kill me anyway… Either way, if I live for the time being, you win."

"Perhaps. But I cannot trust you. You are a talented liar, aren't you…? I know you, for you are human. You will protect your diseased, worthless ilk. You will seek to destroy us, as others have before you!" It lunged towards her again, and before she could move it was on her. Isabel's hair twisted painfully in its grasp and she cried out as it bent her head back to look up at it. The familiar, yet foreign face of the vampire king glaring down at her. "You will die, like all the rest!"

Isabel screamed as it tore out her throat with the sharpened nails of one hand.

Isabel awoke with a start, sitting up quickly, slamming her head into the lid of the coffin. "Shit - fuck!" she groaned as she put her hands to her head. She wasn't sure if it was the coffin or her head that had made the hollow 'thunk' noise as the two met.

A dark laugh filled the silence after she finished swearing. "Quite a way to wake, I must say…"

"Shut up," she mumbled.

Fingers tangled through her hair, then stroked it back away from her face. "What is it that disturbed you so?"

"Your castle threatened me. I'm getting really sick of everybody threatening me. First you, then Wraith, now this."

"The castle obeys me, and means no harm to you." He stroked her hair again, trying to console her. Her heart was pounding in her ears. "T'was only a nightmare, little dove."

Isabel pushed up from him slightly, trying to see his face in the darkness - not sure why she bothered. "No. It wasn't. I promise you. Vlad, we have to talk. The things it said-" she came to a sudden realization that broke into her thoughts full force and temporarily shoved everything else aside. "Wait. …. I'm naked, aren't I?"

Vlad laughed again, this time out of pure amusement. "Do you remember much of last night?"

Isabel tried to think back. "I remember the crypt. I remember what happened to Tim. The garden you brought me to, and then-" she felt her face blush scarlet as it came flooding back to her, like a dream she had struggled to remember and suddenly snapped clear. His blood. And everything else that went with it. "Oh." She paused for a long time, and could feel his continued amusement at her. "That's why I'm naked."

"Indeed." She didn't need to be an empath to hear how entertained he was.

Isabel dropped her head onto his chest with a sigh, which brought another deep chuckle out of the ancient vampire. "We still need to talk," she muttered.

"As you wish. I have much to attend to this evening, that yesterday was much… neglected." He insinuated, still amused. "Matters such as locating Wraith. Do you believe yourself to be in imminent danger?"

"No more than usual," she admitted with a grumble.

"Good," he placed a kiss on the top of her head, and she felt cooler air against her skin as he pushed the lid to the coffin open above him. "You will be safe in my quarters - and I will leave you guarded. Once I return, we will discuss all of what has transpired." He tilted her head to look up at him, with a finger crooked under her chin. The vampire kissed her - almost… reverently. It was the first time he had done such a thing, in that way - and she wasn't sure why it almost stopped her heart in her chest.

As he had said, she was left alone in his quarters. She was happy for a shower, and even happier for food. She was starving - and wondered if her having drank his blood had anything to do with that.

Other than the hunger, she felt no ill effects from what had happened. He had said it would not kill her the first time she drank from him, but she expected something to have happened. At least the bruises from two days prior were now entirely gone - and her skin looked as good as new.

When Vlad left, he said he would 'send someone to guard her.' When she asked exactly who he could trust not to be Wraith in disguise, he had only smirked and left her without an answer. Maybe Lyon the priest, she guessed. The tall, incredibly-kind-if-marblesque vampire had put Adrian down flat, and was clearly a force to be reckoned with. And Dracula seemed to trust him implicitly.

Since she was apparently spending the day by herself, she decided to dress for comfort and not for fashion, as Vlad seemed keen on her doing. It really was something foreign to her - she never tried to stand out, in fact she preferred blending in and not being seen. But, jeans and a black hoodie were clearly unacceptable for someone seen with Vlad Tepes Dracula. Isabel found, after drudging through what was put for her in a wardrobe, something she thought she might never see again.

A shirt. With long sleeves and a hood. Oh, sure, it was some ridiculously low-cut, laced-up number that looked like somebody couldn't decide between 'formal corset' and 'casual hoodie.' She wore a tank top under it - as she wasn't willing to stomp around the castle like some of the women she'd seen so far. But it seemed as close as Vlad was going to get to a 'compromise' with her choice of clothing. She left the hood off her head, a she knew it'd annoy him to find her hiding behind her old patterns.

Vlad must intend to be gone for a while, as she also found the guitar that he had gifted her, propped up against one wall. She wouldn't be too upset for a little time to herself. She flopped down into a chair, tuned the guitar, and began strumming it idly, picking out a tune as she went. Humming the tune as she went, she tried to let her mind sort out the state of her life - and the new addition to the list creatures who wanted her head on a stick - at its own pace.

A knock on the door interrupted her. Opening it, she smiled at who she saw. Sure enough, she was greeted by the gentle, cold countenance of the priest. He looked so much like the statues in his cathedral. Which came first, she wondered.

She stood aside to let him enter. He bowed at the waist, and entered. "I figured it'd be you," she said, pleased at least it wasn't a stranger.

"It will bring Lord Dracula no small annoyance to think he is predictable. I will make special note to tell him such," he said with a small smile.

Isabel laughed. He had a weird, extremely dry sense of humor. But at least he had one. She shut the door behind him. "I'd offer you something, but, none of this is mine, so… I guess… make yourself at home? I don't know." She finished with a shrug.

"I thank you for your kindness," he replied, as he walked to a chair by the center of the room, turning to face her with one hand folded behind his back like a gentleman of old. "Your confusion is quite excusable. You are much removed from your normal condition, and it would be disconcerting for any to find oneself the houseguest of our particular shared acquaintance."

"I wish people still talked like you do," Isabel said as she walked back to where she had been sitting moments prior, and flopped back down in the chair. "I think people would fight a lot less if they all spoke as eloquently as that. Or at least make it more fun to listen to."

"Perhaps," he sat down, having been waiting for her to do so first. "In my own experience, the quality or quantity of words has little bearing on the level of violence they bring. My days were no less filled with bloodshed."

She chuckled once and shrugged. "People are always the same, I guess."

"In my experience, that is ever the case."

She smiled faintly. Something about that was disheartening and comforting at the same time. Picking up her guitar again, she began strumming it again quietly, picking out a tune. Realizing that it might be rude, she stopped and looked up at the priest, who was sitting, ever like the statue he resembled - not even moving. At all.

That was the eerie thing about him, she realized. When he was still - he was perfectly still. Living people were always moving in one way or another. Breathing, the movement of eyes, shifting just slightly. Even Vlad did these things, from time to time. But of all the vampires she had the (mis)fortune to meet in recent days, none were ever so perfectly still as Lyon.

"I'm sorry," she said, as she stopped playing. "I didn't ask if this bothered you. I used to play a lot, and I haven't had the chance to recently. It helps me clear my head."

"On the contrary. I am very much enjoying listening to you play."

She began picking out a tune again, but still quietly, keeping it down tempo. Something told her he wouldn't be keen on industrial rock. "That's what you do, isn't it? Listen."

"What leads you to believe so?"

Isabel shrugged. "Empath. It's my job to get a read on people."

"And what do you 'read' from me, I wonder?" he asked, and seemed genuinely interested. Not in the party-trick, 'do me next' kind of way that happened to her from time to time. Instead it was an earnest, keen interest in what she might see in him.

She looked up at him, pausing in her strumming, to focus. "You're kind. That's the easy one. But also… sad. Forlorn. You've suffered, more than you've gained. Some, like Dracula, react to that with anger and hatred. You simply… shoulder the pain."

She paused for a moment, looking down and to the side, letting her eyes lose focus as she saw something else. "Venice. A cathedral in Venice. A young man and a woman - you were… helping them flee something. Or someone, and-" Blood. It ended in blood. Isabel winced, feeling the pain of his failure, and couldn't voice it. When she looked up at him, she saw the sorrow in his eyes, if not his features. "-I'm sorry," she forced herself to snap out of the connection. "Sometimes I can't control how deep I go," she apologized quickly.

"That is an… impressive gift, my lady…" he said quietly. "Please, do not apologize. That was… comforting."

"I don't think I've ever heard it described like that."

"When one is ancient, one loses the attachment to the ways of the living world. Life, love, pain, loss… You become hollow. Cruel. To know that you can sense such things, is to know that I can still feel them." He leaned back in the chair, watching her thoughtfully. "The couple you saw perished at the hands of Master Dracula."

He was a stone statue, painted in alabaster tones. Flawless. But he was bleeding underneath. Yet there was a quiet joy at his own suffering. Exaltation in his pain. Images of both men flew into her mind from him - claw and sword clashing, desperate in a vicious fight to kill the other. Both betrayed by the other. "How did it end..?" she asked, unable to not know the ending to the story.

Lyon made a small noise, almost a laugh - and shut his eyes. "Of course, I was bested by my elder. He is my sire, after all. Master Dracula murdered the young pair you saw before my eyes. In his cruelty and his kindness both, he spared me. Perhaps he did so in spite of, or inspired by, my traitorous actions."

"And what did you do..?"

"I forgave him, and sought to council him in his violent tendencies." Eyes, the color of ice at dawn, opened again to watch her keenly.

She let his words and the weight of his story settle before she spoke again. Of course, she had to make some sort of half-assed, barely thought-through comment to end the silence. "I guess, that's what you do. Forgive, and shoulder the problems of others."

"I am a priest, after all." A slight twinge of a smirk revealed the slightest hint that he was poking fun at himself.

"About that," she leaded, glad for anything to change the subject. "A priest of God, well, the christian god, right? And not the other options." She took up strumming chords again, his story turning over in her mind. "That's gotta be complicated. Given where you live."

"I forgive the confusion in others in regards to my unique state of being," he said, his thin lips turning up with a fully bemused smile. "Many would assume that due to my nature, I must worship a cadre of demons or some fallen angel, whatever the choice of the century may be."

Isabel shook her head. "Then they just want to hate something, and picked you. I think, in all horrible, worthless acts people can do, that's the worst. To want to hate something outside yourself, and then to chose out of stupidity, ignorance, fear… convenience. Whatever it is." Isabel realized she was playing the chords to 'No Surprises,' and that made her smile.

"I cannot disagree."

Their dialogue peacefully drifted away. He wasn't a conversationalist. Seemed vampires generally weren't, in her limited experience. Her tune ended, and she switched tunes to one she loved, but hadn't thought about in years. 'Back to Black.' Poor girl.

Music had an ability to make you think, no matter your situation, age, class, or bearing, that somehow the song applied directly to your life. That it held some deep window into your soul. No matter how ridiculous the conditions of either your moment in time or the song itself. She was sure 'I am the Walrus' held some deep spiritual meaning to somebody, somewhere. Why had this song sprung to her mind? Just because she liked it?

She started to quietly sing the lyrics, trying to sort out in her own mind why it had risen to the forefront.

'You went back to what you knew. So far removed from all that we went through… And I tread a troubled track, my odds are stacked. I'll go back to black. We only said goodbye in words - I died a hundred times. You go back to her, and I go back to… I go back to us…'

Ah. That's what it was that made her think of it. The castle had screamed that Dracula belonged to it. She would not take him away from them. It was easier to think of the castle now as a spurned ex, maybe. A creature who felt that she was just the 'easy,' comfortable and familiar solution. But not the right choice. It helped rationalize the impossible. Better to think of it that way, than a psychotic deranged force of nature trying to kill her in a turf war over the original vampire.

Isabel herself was, in its eyes, just another momentary distraction. One of a hundred times. She smirked sadly, cruelly remarking that it was very likely right. And who knew if Dracula would, or could, ever 'love' her, in the end? He cared for her, he said. That was a start. But she'd likely die before it could progress, she knew. It was a sick love triangle, wasn't it? A vampire king, a semi-sentient castle, and… her. Shit, she was out of her league in every possible way.

She didn't continue singing the lyrics - namely not wanting to have to explain to the thousands-year-old vampire priest what 'puff' and 'blow' were.

It was amazing what music could do - summoned from the subconscious, to apply a new view on the woes of the day. Even if it was a stretch, it gave her a new perspective.

"You are troubled, my lady. What is wrong?"

She looked up at him, and cursed her heart-written-on-her-sleeve, transparent expressions. A question for a question seemed the easiest way forward. "Can I ask you something?" she spoke after a long pause, using the chords of the song to sort her thoughts.

"Of course."

"When Dracula dies, what happens? When somebody - Adrian, or whoever - comes in here and kills him. The castle disappears?"

"To outside observers, it crumbles to rubble and dust."

"So he dies. Lies in a casket until he wakes up for some reason or another."

"Yes."

"But where? What happens to all of you? What happens to everybody who's… stuck in here?" she asked.

"To us…" Lyon shifted in his seat - and that was the first time she saw him move out of reflexive reaction to something. He seemed reluctant to speak, but finally pushed himself forward. "It is terribly difficult to explain, my Lady, and I am hardly a poet."

"Just try. I'm an empath, I put things together pretty easily," she smiled at him playfully. "And just call me Isabel, or Izzy, or Iz, please. I'm not a 'lady' and I never will be."

He smiled. "Isabel it is, then. Thank you." Lyon took a silent moment to ponder over his words. "It is like a dream. Time passes, and yet it does not. We exist, in this place - in a world outside of our own. In that place, the castle can neither grow, create new beings, nor can things truly… change. We cannot depart this place, for it is trapped inside a void. We are frozen in time, and yet awake at once. Many creatures enter a long sleep, as the Master does."

Isabel nodded slowly, to signify that she heard him. Her mind poured over his words, trying to picture in her mind what it must be like to be trapped in that waking dream. "Everything is stagnant."

"Indeed, I believe it would begin to decay, if given enough time in neglect by Lord Dracula," Lyon added, leaning back and tapping a single pale finger on the arm of his chair. It seemed an unusual movement from the priest - who felt no need to be active. A flurry of emotions and thoughts raced about under the alabaster surface.

"Blood isn't alive if it isn't moving," she muttered.

"What did you say?"

"Sorry. Look," she stopped playing for a moment, putting her hand across the strings, stilling the vibration. "I'll be honest with you. The castle threatened my life in a dream last night. Screamed that it wouldn't let me 'take him away from it.'"

Lyon's brow furrowed as he looked at her, concerned. For a moment, she was afraid he wouldn't believe her, as Vlad had. But sorrow overcame the concern, and he shook his head. "I believe it has done this before, when he attempted to shirk his part of the arrangement twixt the two."

"Arrangement?"

"One without words, perhaps… Lord Dracula created this place, and the being that lives at its' heart. It draws from him, from the blood he and all his progeny have spilt. The countless lives that were spent upon the empty air over time immemorial would gather unto him, if it had nowhere else to go. He would go mad. So instead, unconsciously, this place was born. A product of all who have lived and died due to creatures such as we. Many speak of it as a demon. Perhaps it is."

"So it's not the first time someone around here has created something insane, instead of going insane themselves," Isabel muttered with no small amount of bitterness.

Lyon nodded sadly, knowing quite well what was going on with 'Wraith.' "All that you see that are the creatures in this place that were not born of the world such as I and many others - are product of the dreams of the castle and its Master. They are the love and unwavering dedication it has for him. From time to time, other Masters arise, and it serves them. Walter Bernhard, William Barker, and so on. Others have attempted to create a place similar to this - and succeeded, for a time. But they have all crumbled and remained so. All but this place."

"It thinks I'm a threat," Isabel laughed hard and put her guitar down, standing up to walk to the windows overlooking the city of Boston. She needed to move. "I'm not a fucking threat- er-" she paused, realizing she swore in front of a priest. "No offence."

Lyon chuckled quietly. "I have heard far worse."

"How do I convince the castle that I don't plan on - even if I live through this mess - trying to get Dracula to ditch it? I don't… I don't know what I want, Lyon. I wanted to protect my friends, and I failed. I wanted to escape, and I failed. So right now, I just don't want to die," she laughed, hopelessly, leaning her forehead on the glass, cool from the chill outside. "I'll probably fail at that, too. The castle has made it very clear that's what it plans on seeing happen."

"It said as much?" his voice was closer to hers than the before - she assumed without looking that he had approached her.

"It also made sure to point out that when it made sure I died, my soul will be completely destroyed." Isabel felt herself go pale at the thought, and she gripped the window sill with both hands. Oblivion was terrifying, even if once you're there, you have no knowledge of it. Fear of death was one thing, when you knew there was some kind of afterlife ahead of you. Fear of nothingness triggered something much deeper inside the human psyche.

His hand fell on her shoulder - and she was glad for the sleeves. The last thing she needed right now was to get tossed through the ancient vampire's mind. She turned to look at him, and saw his gentle expression. Mournful, but kind. "You are ever besieged, it seems."

"Tell me about it. I-" she was cut off as the ground beneath her lurched. Like everything just took a fifteen foot step to the right. Lyon seemed to have felt the same, and he shifted to plant his feet, grabbing hold of her shoulders with both hands to steady her before she toppled over.

She'd think it was an earthquake, if she didn't know any better. Grabbing hold of a table and the window sill, panic sent her eyes wide. The castle crumbled when it's master fell. "Vlad-"

"Is alive," the priest interjected before she could finish her thought. "I would have sensed otherwise, which means only one other thing."

The castle lurched again, harder than before. Lyon had to worry for himself, and without his assistance this time it sent her to the ground, and she landed with an 'unf.'

Slowly, the 'earthquake' receded to a low rumble, and then silence. Lyon offered her a hand up. As she was wearing her gloves, she took his hand and let him easily lift her to her feet like she weighed nothing. Super strength must be convenient, she griped to herself, a little jealous.

"It appears he has made good on his bargain," Lyon said with a gesture towards the window.

Turning to look, she blinked. No longer was it the city of Boston, twisted and corrupted by the influence of the castle. Instead of the blackened spires against the lights beyond - the twisted shapes of the ancient structure looked like ragged claws against a white and crystalline backdrop.

A frozen forest.

As far as the eye could see.

Mountains, pointed and sharp against the abyss of the night sky were in the far horizon. But not a single light of a city or a village dotted the landscape.

Isabel shut her eyes, and smiled. Thanking Vlad silently for keeping his end of the deal. Somehow it was a relief - even if she had no idea what was left of the poor city of Boston. At least she saved future lives, if she couldn't do anything about the ones already splattered all over the pavement by Dracula's hordes. One life in exchange for many was a deal that was hard not to accept.

"You are welcome," came from behind her. A familiar voice, if unusually strained.

Isabel jumped almost a foot in the air and whirled around, seeing the vampire king, leaning heavily on a chair. He looked… not well. "No fireworks this time?" she quipped, sarcastic, but couldn't help but be concerned. Not announcing his appearance wasn't like him.

She didn't miss Lyon's pleased and quiet smile as she walked past him to approach Vlad, who lowered his head, his long black hair masking his face from view as he gripped the back of the chair with both hands.

I would ask you to relocate a building by force of will alone and see how it wears upon you, Vlad spoke silently into her mind. Isabel winced at his cruel tone, but tried to shrug it off, seeing his face drawn tight in agony. She put her hand on his arm, trying to console him as best she could. This was her doing, more or less.

"Shall I leave you?" Lyon asked quietly from near the window.

"No," Vlad said as he straightened up and pulled a sharp breath through his nose, steeling himself. He did his best to compose himself, and if she didn't know him as well as she had come to, she would not have known he was in pain. "I must rest. And I do not know for how long. I am leaving you in charge until I awaken." Lyon bowed deep in response.

Isabel looked up at him, and knew he didn't mean 'I need a 24 hour nap.' He meant… days. Or weeks. Or most likely, 'I have no idea.' "Is it usually this bad…? If I had known, I wouldn't have-" she asked.

"Yes, you would," he interrupted her impatiently, and she saw his hands tighten on the back of the chair. "In such instances as I have required to perform this act in the past, I would have taken more time to prepare." He sighed. "But I am a man of my word."

"What shall I provision for Isabel, my lord?" Lyon asked quietly, knowing it would likely be a sensitive subject.

Dracula looked down at her, and she felt very… small, all of a sudden. It was fascinating to see him change his demeanor towards her so easily. One moment, kind - the next, the king that so many feared. The cold look on his face made her take a step back from him, pulling her hand from his arm.

"Find somewhere you think she shall be safe. I suppose you may bring her friends to her - they will die to save her, should she be in danger." While she was excited to see Adam and Eric again - god knows how long it had been since she had, somehow she felt like she had just been backhanded. The tone of his voice was strange to her, and she didn't know what to make of it. With that, he vanished in a swirl of black mist, and was gone.

Isabel felt… empty. Her jaw twitched, as she struggled with what had just happened. She felt turned away - rebuked somehow. But what had she done? Shaking her head, she put a gloved hand on the back of her neck.

"He is mercurial," Lyon advised. "And ever shall be so."

Isabel guessed that was his way of saying 'he's an asshole, don't take it personally.' But it was hard not to. And, Isabel realized with a chill - she hadn't told him of what she saw in her dream. Of what the castle threatened to do to her.

"Come. I have somewhere in mind, and I will send for your friends. Regardless of his command, I believe you are in need of companionship - more so than what I am capable of providing for you."

Lyon successfully broke through her train of thought, and she turned to look at him with a sad smile. "You do just fine. Even if your whole 'I'm a statue that talks' thing is a little eerie sometimes," she playfully teased at him.

"So I have oft been told, if not in as many words." He returned her smile, and extended a hand to her. "Let us go."

It was a strange place that Lyon had brought her to. Where most of the castle seemed to be a buzz with monsters and creatures of every ilk and type - this one was… empty. It was also very high up. It seemed one of the tallest points in the castle, equal to the path that lead to the throne room in the center of the twisting keep.

It took her a long time to realize that the quiet, barely-below-the-surface noise was the ticking of some giant clock that must be on the floor beneath them. Tock, tock, tock. The floor reverberated with each mechanical action. Tock, tock, tock. Judging by the sound of it, actually, it was probably the entire structure beneath them.

Soaring windows on all sides were vaulted inwards, showcasing the intricate and winding steel that was its framework. Isabel recognized the style was inspired by 'art nouveau' architecture, if the designer had done a lot of cocaine and fell asleep on a collection of Escher artwork.

Lyon had taken her here a few minutes prior, and pledged that she would be safe and that he would return as soon as he could. "I hope you will forgive me for this," he had said mysteriously.

"Why? What's wrong with this place?"

"It is not the what, it is the who," he replied, begrudgingly, and said no more on the matter. "But you will be safe here."

Isabel was pretty sure she was happier not knowing any more details than that, so she let him leave without pressing for more. Not that she didn't trust the priest - she did. He seemed one of the few, fully genuine people she had met here. But if the castle itself was now out to kill her… who could save her from that? The only creature who could, had gone to his private crypt. And clearly was uninterested in hearing her concerns.

Isabel paced for a while, thinking, before becoming painfully bored. She flopped down onto a burgundy velvet chaise lounge by one of the large windows. Looking out over at the frozen landscape of what she assumed was either Siberia or the wastelands of Northern Canada, she decided that the ice and cold seemed to suit the castle much better than a crowded metropolis.

The contrast of black against white was beautiful, even if the twisted, corrupt nature of the castle was something she may never really get used to. It wasn't like she'd probably ever have to, she reminded herself.

It made her cold, just looking at it. It made her cold, thinking about the inevitability of her own death. She pulled her hood up over her hair, feeling comfort in having one for the first time in what felt like forever.

This place was filled with monsters. Creatures beyond measure. Demons and vampires, werewolves and giant things with no names for them but their own. What chance did she stand against all that? Against Wraith? Against anyone here?

She was just an empath. That's it. Human. No super powers, no super strength, nothing. Just a great read of emotions and memories. Whoop-de-freaking-do. It was easy to forget that, glued to Dracula's side. Now that he was gone, she felt the enormity of it all. And how little she really was.

She felt the tears bite at her eyes, and she let them fall. She was alone, anyway. Isabel let herself cry for the first time since this had all began. For herself, for her friends… she wiped at the tears as they finally stilled, and let herself lay back on the chaise lounge.

The low tock, tock, tock of the clocktower below her made her drowsy, and she laid her head back, and let herself nod off. She wasn't sure how long she spent in that world between awake and asleep, before something woke her up abruptly.

She blinked, and sat up quickly - and listened. What had she heard? Slinging one leg off the lounge, she waited…

And screamed when she heard a high-pitched laugh from directly behind her.

"Holy fuck!" she screamed and shot up to her feet, whirling around so quickly she nearly tripped over the edge of the furniture.

A floating… skeleton… loomed in the air where she had heard the laugh. It was dressed in tattered robes, black and grey, with a hood pulled over the empty, grinning bone features of its face. It was unclear where its body began and ended. Disembodied skeletal hands, floating separate from its body yet still somehow moving the robes it wore - were gripping a large, intricately carved and detailed scythe. It loomed for a moment over her before slinging the blade behind its back, where it seemed to stick.

"Well, well… So you are what all the fuss is about? You humans are always so much… smaller in person." Its voice was harsh, sharp - and came from the skull with no help of any ligaments or flesh.

"You're fucking kidding me," she said and took a step back from the floating monster. "What the hell are you supposed to be, Death?!"

"In the flesh!" he cackled, and let out a long, exaggeratedly pleased sigh. "I never get sick of that joke."

Isabel had to laugh - but not at his stupid line. She laughed at the absurdity of her stupid situation that just kept going from 'bad' to 'worse.' "Great. So, are you my bodyguard, or my executioner?"

"If I'm lucky, maybe both!"

"Look, buddy, just be straight with me, would you? I'm really sick of playing 'who's trying to kill me today' guess-and-check," she shot back.

"Pah!" the floating skeleton let out a loud, mocking laugh. She wish she could tell if it was grinning, or, y'know, had any expression at all. All that she could sense was that it was enormously pleased with itself. But that seemed to be 'his' general state of being. "You have a wit about you, mortal. I begin to see why the Master dotes on you so."

"Thanks, I think," she replied, unsure of if she really should be chatting with the flying skeleton.

"This is my tower," it pointed out, enjoying that she had no way of knowing that. It gestured grandly with its disembodied, floating skeletal hands. "So you, for the time being, are my guest." He hissed out the last word in a way that made her feel entirely unwelcome. But she tried to take him at his word.

"Oh. … Thanks."

"Thank me not, mortal. If I had my way, I would decorate the walls with your innards. But Master Dracula sees something in you. Something worth keeping on the inside for now." He cackled again.

"At least I have insides, bone bag." It probably wasn't smart to taunt the floating, scythe-wielding spectre, but… fuck him, fuck all of this, and fuck everything that's happened recently. She was as good as dead anyway. "So, are you really 'Death?' Or just some dead guy who learned how to hover and decided to own the look?" She didn't know where she got the nerve.

"I wonder, are you the same weeping little girl I saw here just a moment prior? I think perhaps I was sent to 'babysit' that little miserable child instead. I am so utterly bored of crying girls."

"First, you were spying on me, which makes you a creep." If it was going to insult her, she was going to fire right back. "Second, crying girls? No wonder. I mean, have you looked at yourself recently, Rattles? Oh wait, I'm sorry. You can't. You don't have eyes."

It laughed. Hard. It floated towards her, and she held her ground. Although her hands were shaking, and she clenched her fists to hide it. No use running anyway.

A disembodied hand landed on the top of her head over her hood (thankfully,) and rocked her head from side to side like someone would a kid. In some, fucked up way, she guessed it was some kind of… friendly gesture.

As she went to swat its hand away, it pulled back, still looming over her. She knew it was grinning, even if he was, well, just a grinning skull. "Such fire!" He boomed through a laugh. "I think I will enjoy you, for however long you last. Perhaps, once the two little spawnlings I hear approaching have left, I might play you in a game of chess."

"I think there's a proverb about that," she grumbled, unenthused and not sure what to make of this thing.

"Indeed there is!" he cackled. "Enjoy your time in my clocktower, mortal," the floating skeleton disappeared by… melting through the floor. Passing through it like it was a ghost. It happened so fast, she didn't have the chance to mock him over his awful pun.

"Holy shit why are there so many stairs?!" she heard a familiar voice from under the floor. A hatch opened, and swung upwards.

"It's a tower, you idiot," came the reply.

"This tower can install a fucking elevator. Some people can't just namby-pamby teleport around like a pussy."

"For the last time, I don't teleport, I turn into - hey! Isabel!"

Adam was the first up the ladder into the room, catching sight of her. Isabel ran towards him, never happier to see someone before in her life, and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him. He laughed, wrapping his arms around her, hugging her back as tightly as she had done.

Isabel thanked the vampire king silently for the sleeves and the hood, whether he heard her or not. She tried not to cry again, this time out of joy, holding onto her friend. Even if he was a vampire now, it didn't matter. It was Adam.

"What, no love for me?" The 'whump' of a closing hatch in the floor, and she finally peeled herself off of Adam to look over at Eric.

Who looked… normal.

"Whoa," she said, looking at him, as he stood there, beaming, grinning from ear to ear like the cat who ate the canary. He was loving every ounce of her shocked reaction. "What- how? You were a train wreck! With one arm. And oozing black shit."

He turned around, arms out, still grinning, showing off. "Tah-dah! I told you, good as new! Better even. Check this!" He held out his arm, and she watched amazed as his skin seemed to fold back in panels like a sci-fi movie. Like his skin was just part of an elaborate machine. It opened up to reveal the wires, servos, and pistons underneath. With a flick of his wrist, the panels closed back up.

Isabel poked at him - and he felt human. Squishy like a person should be. He snickered, and let her poke and prod at him curiously. "No way. That's insane."

He looked as proud as she had ever seen him before. "I'm about ninety-seven percent machine! I'm fucked if I ever need to go through an airport metal detector, but hey. Priorities."

Isabel hugged him, just as hard as she had to Adam, if not harder. To see him - changed, and yet the same. Eric laughed, picked her up, and spun her once before putting her back on her feet. "Izzy, it is so good to see you." He mussed up her hair over her hood, as he used to do so many times before. "We've been so worried…"

She let herself release the death-grip hug she had on him, and took a step back. Both overjoyed, and broken hearted at the same time. They'd found their place here. She was going to die - one way or another. "I'm so glad to see you two… I didn't know if I'd ever get the chance to again, before it was too late."

"Hey, what's wrong?" Eric put his hands on her shoulders, not letting her turn away from them. "Too late for what, Iz?"

"Come on, sit down - catch us both up." Adam, ever the voice of reason, interjected before she had another breakdown.

"Where do I start?" she asked, walking with them towards the small gathering of furniture by one of the large, vaulted windows. "Dracula's plans for me, that'll kill me - the creature running amok trying to kill me - or that the castle wants to kill me?"

"Well.. it seems a lot has happened," Adam replied, not sure how else to respond. "Since last we talked, you had just emerged from that… torture he subjected you to."

Isabel laughed hard. "Fuck, a lot has happened since then."

"Hopefully a lot of fucking has happened since- OW!" Eric yelped as Adam punched him, hard, in the arm. "Easy on the goods, man! You and your stupid vamp strength-"

"I'll use it to break every one of those pistons you have in your arms," Adam threatened.

"Like to see you try, you prissy little shit-"

It was like the good old times.

"Tell me one of you brought alcohol," Isabel interjected as she slumped down into a chair.

Eric pulled a bag slung over his back off his arm, and put it down on a table with the telltale thunk of liquid-filled glass containers with his best lopsided grin. "Was that ever in question?"