Running on fumes, but at least it's finally up. Apologies for any errors I missed (I'm sure they're there), and many thanks to She-Devil Red, Scarlet Empress, Arwen17evenstar, and cneajna for reviewing over the weekend!
We've got another Dracul Sânge interview... this time with a daughter instead of a son. I wonder how that will go... Oh! Also, the brief use of French in here is courtesy of Google Translate. I included the intended translations directly in the text for reasons. Might change all that later, but for now, it is what it is, I guess.
No noteworthy content warnings for this chapter. ENJOY!
Copyright © 2021 TSM. All rights reserved.
Chapter 31
Louise Poincaré
Frankie had always been particularly fond of the Urmen celebration, even though she didn't have a lick of Romani blood in her. But there was something about the wandering gypsies that she related to on some level, and the festival seasons in Budapest celebrating their ancient traditions had always appealed greatly to her.
Perhaps that was because in many ways, even with the noble blood that ran through her veins, Frankie had always been somewhat of a hopeless wanderer, thriving when she was free to do and believe and love who and what she pleased and where she liked. And while this particular celebration honored the control-thieving embodiment of fate, it also marked the approaching of a new year and that was certainly something the woman could get behind.
Besides, it didn't take being a gypsy to enjoy the vibrancy and mystery that made-up its culture. Most people attended the festival for the sights – the plethora of fortune-teller tents, mini-carnival attractions, and small shops selling trinkets, costumes, scarves, and bangles. The cuisine consisted of traditional Romanian and Hungarian dishes, most savory in nature; the aroma rising up into the air and filling the east-side of Budapest in a blanket of scents that awakened even a vampire's more singular hunger. Most insisted on dressing up – their costumes elaborate and colorful, some of them containing genuine regalia passed down from generation to generation.
But it wasn't the sights or smells that drew Frankie to the streets every year for the Urmen festival.
It was the music.
Violin music to be specific.
The moment she heard that bow scratch over strings, she was lost.
It was like hypnotism.
She was drawn to the music like a slave, entranced with the various intricate melodies and the mastery in which they were played. The hundreds of notes delivered with such life, such fervor and passion – it awakened in the female vampire a sense of longing, a dull ache in the center of her silent chest. Yet being the faintly masochistic woman she was, instead of making an effort to avoid this thing which often left her in pain, she actively sought it out.
That ache the music created in her made her feel more alive than anything had in the longest time. She moved through the crowded streets of the east side, weaving in and out of people in search for the owner of the violin that happened to be playing the most glorious music she had heard in years.
Situated on the edges of a large fountain in the middle of a square were a man and woman dressed in traditional garb, both with flawlessly tan skin and raven hair, the strands in spiral curls that bounced and swayed as the masters of the instruments allowed their music to become a literal part of them. Frankie was instantly spellbound as she allowed her attention to fall over the instrument of the man, observing with fascination and recognition as his fingers flew over the strings while the bow danced.
The notes he played blended and swirled flawlessly with that of his counterpart as the two played the traditional Romanian folkdances – Poarga româneasca and Maruntel – the crowd exceptionally pleased when they had finished, the two violinists receiving a hearty round of applause.
The next song Frankie quickly recognized as Czárdás, and as it was played, she instinctively closed her eyes for a precious moment, allowing the fingers of her left hand to move in time to that of the notes as if she herself were holding the precious instrument. She knew that she should be heading to her appointment with Jack and his sister Louise, but she couldn't help but allow herself the momentary reprieve.
Jack, she was certain, would be understanding.
As the song continued, it was easy to imagine herself standing in the music room of her uncle's house, with him at the piano accompanying her as she played, cousin Marceau playing the cello and his sisters Georgine and Alayna dancing with Rémy. She wasn't certain if what she was envisioning was an actual long-forgotten memory or a vivid creation of her imagination. But whatever it was, she soon became aware of a tender longing pulsating inside of her and she was forced to stop. The music brought back too many painful memories – her aunt's death in particular.
When the song ended, Frankie opened her eyes to reality again. She was quick to discover the male violinist watching her carefully from across the square. His gaze held a look of interest as he glanced between her face and what she assumed was her barely lifted left hand.
Had he seen her playing her imaginary violin?
Had he recognized the notes she played, the fantastical accompaniment?
His expression suggested that he had and while instinct nearly had her shrinking away, she kept his gaze as he nodded his head in acknowledgement – one musician to another. She returned the nod and watched as he whispered something into his companion's ear before raising the bow to his instrument once more.
He started to play, his solo quieting the crowd as his fingers flew, eyes fixed on Frankie's. Then he broke out into the traditional Russian ballad – Dark Eyes – pleased with her expression of amusement when she recognized what he was playing. He leaned in her direction as he performed, his body language implying that this particular song was for her. The notion touched the woman and the faintest of smiles appeared on her face as he continued, passion growing in his artistry with each repetition of the powerful melody.
"I think you have an admirer," a familiar voice spoke from behind.
"I have no idea why he would be. His companion is clearly my superior," she answered with sincerity, glancing behind her somewhat to catch a glimpse of the man who had joined her.
The first thing she noticed was his smile, sweet and endearing as he leaned in close to whisper into her ear.
"You are constantly undervaluing yourself, Francesca," Jack stated simply. "Look at the woman." And look she did. She observed the female violinist as Jack spoke, watching how perfectly the musician swayed back and forth as she played, her eyes flirting with some of the men in the crowd. "She is beautiful, an exquisite creature. But she does not feel the music in the way that you do. It does not run through veins, or pour out of her fingertips." She felt Jack's finger toy with a stray curl at the base of her neck. "And unlike you, there is no depth to her, no mystery."
"How can you say that there is no mystery to the woman if you aren't even acquainted?" she asked him in a steady voice.
"Because any man who has had the pleasure of sitting in your presence for even a moment can declare that there is no creature on this earth as captivating as you – living or undead."
Frankie laughed.
"Jack, you are a shameless flirt."
"Am not!" he declared with that brilliant smile of his. "I speak nothing but truths."
"Sure you do."
"Shall we?" he asked, offering her his arm.
"Of course, but I have to ask," and she took it without hesitation, allowing him to lead her through the crowd and toward a less busy side-street, "why are you even here? Not that I'm not happy to see you – but I'm supposed to be spending the evening with your sister, not you."
"I am here to accompany Louise," he explained, before adding with a bit of a sigh, "and to play referee if the occasion calls for it."
Frankie waited for a teasing smile or wink from him as evidence that he was joking, but it never came.
"Referee? What, does your sister not approve of me?" she said with a laugh, but when his expression didn't change, her face fell somewhat. "Oh. I see."
"Actually, you don't, Francesca… and quite frankly, neither does anyone else in my family. I feel I should warn you, although Tempest is a bit more undecided when it comes to you, Louise has declared herself determined to hate you."
"What have I done to offend her?"
"I don't know, and to hold such an unfair and unrepentantly-biased opinion without cause shows her character – though don't tell her I said that. I find myself incapable of comprehending her reasoning, but Zeke thinks it may be because she is so protective of Father."
"So you're saying she doesn't approve of me because she doesn't believe me worthy of him?" she clarified, unable to hide the skepticism in her voice. Jack seemed to share her disapproval of the situation.
"My brothers and I are all convinced that that sentiment should really be the other way around. As much as I love my father, I'm not entirely convinced he's worthy of you. But where Louise is concerned… let's just say that it took a great deal of bribery and arguing to get her to come tonight. As much as I love the woman, my sister can be the most infuriating female. She's very much like my father in some regards – especially how he was in the old days – conceited, unforgiving, thoroughly stubborn and pigheaded… though please don't tell her I said any of that either."
"Your secrets are always safe with me," she promised him.
Jack led her through several winding streets, and the longer they walked, the quieter their surroundings became. Frankie barely recognized where they were after a while and was silently drawing up maps of Budapest in her head so she could find her way back home after tonight. While in the midst of doing so, she was interrupted.
"Ah, here we are."
She followed the direction of the man's gaze and noticed a shabby looking building in front of them, all boarded up. From the looks of it, it had been uninhabited for decades and was ready to fall right on top of itself. She sent him a peculiar glance.
"Oh no, we're not going in there. We're going down here," and he pointed to the abandoned subway entrance, old and tattered caution tape binding the front steps. From what Frankie could tell they were in a part of town that had been greatly damaged during one of the wars of the previous century – a degree of destruction that had never really been repaired. The entrance down into the subway looked most unsafe, especially to any human wanderer.
But for a vampire, it was a playground.
With effortless grace, the pair climbed into the hole that was once the metro entrance, weightless on unstable piles of rubble until they reached the solid ground of the subway itself. The tunnel was darker than pitch and where Jack seemed to struggle just a little bit in finding his way, Frankie did so with the greatest of ease. She allowed her eyes to drink in the black, the purple-blue hue of her irises starting to glow as the tunnel became progressively darker. Jack no longer had her arm, but she could feel him close behind her.
She was about to inquire where Louise was hiding when she heard the loveliest music coming from within the underground itself.
Frankie paused suddenly and felt Jack run in to her a bit and she offered an absent apology as she continued to listen, gazing deep into the abyss. Beyond what any human eye could see, she noticed a faint light a little over a quarter mile away in the direction of the music. Without a word, she began to move towards it, drawn to the soothingly familiar sound of a bow being lovingly pulled across the strings of a violin. This was the second time tonight that she had encountered the weeping of that instrument and she couldn't help but wonder as she made her way through the underpass if some deity was trying to tell her something.
Well, whatever the message was meant to be, she had no time to contemplate on it.
They reached the source of the music within a matter of minutes and Frankie paused to take in what was there. A table was set up across the railing of the old set of train tracks, two chairs on either end, an ancient-looking candelabra lit for ambience. Standing on the opposing side of the table was a woman dressed in fine silk, the deep color of her dress accentuating the radiant gold of her hair. She was the most perfect specimen of female that Frankie had ever seen, flawlessly proportioned in every particular – and fully aware of her splendor.
When the stranger finished playing her song, she lowered her bow and finally opened her eyes.
"Sorry we're late, Lou," Jack apologized lightly with a smile. "It took me a moment longer than I had expected to find her."
"An incompetency I can overlook," she replied.
Frankie was astonished to find the woman's voice as rich as it was. It had a deeper quality to it, something cloying and inherently sensual, all of this emphasized by the thickest of French accents. The woman looked in Frankie's direction, her amber-colored eyes immediately scrutinizing. Her nose scrunched slightly as she muttered.
"Décevant." (Disappointing)
"Louise, behave yourself," Jack warned.
"Je ne crois pas que j'ai jamais vu un tel pathétique une personne." (I don't think I've ever seen such a pathetic person)
The French left Louise's mouth like oil, the insult spoken in such a tone that would have had any non-native speaker oblivious of its intended viciousness. While Francesca knew stooping fully to Louise's level was presently out of the question, there was no way her pride would allow this woman to get off so easily.
"Says the little girl who is too cowardly to insult a person in a more common tongue," Frankie replied back in equally perfect French. Louise's brows nearly shot up to her hairline in surprise before knitting into a nice furrow of disapproval, but Frankie wasn't done yet. "Although I suppose in your limited experience I may appear pathetic to you, Miss Poincaré, I would prefer to save the childish insults for another time so we can start this interview. If you have no objections?"
Louise's evident displeasure at Frankie's clearly native accent and generous cut to her vanity were plain to see, yet the former remained utterly composed.
"But of course," Louise replied in English this time, motioning at one of the chairs as she placed her violin in its case atop the table.
Jack seated Frankie first before his sister, another action that seemed to irritate the eldest daughter of Dracul.
As soon as they were situated, Jack positioned himself against the neighboring wall, observing the pair closely as Frankie began to remove her equipment from her jacket, having narrowed it down to merely the digital recorder and nothing else. She started the pocket-sized piece of technology without saying so much as a word.
"Jack, your presence is no longer required. I do not believe I need protection from Miss Chase," Louise mused snootily.
"You keep going on like that, Lou, and you might," he answered back.
"Do you mean to say that I am in danger here? That," and she pointed an accusatory finger in Frankie's direction, "is no threat to me."
"Lou, seriously, stop acting like such a spoiled brat. You're embarrassing me."
"The only child in the room is Miss Chase. No one so naïve would dare to aspire to being our father's queen. I mean look at her, Jack! You seriously expect me to believe that that is the undying bride of the great dragon, the savior of our race?" and the woman forced out a scornful laugh. "I've seen more promise in some of Father's whores than I do in this pitiful disgrace of a woman."
"Miss Poincaré, clearly your brothers have failed to inform you – first and foremost, I have no desire to be any man's queen, let alone Dracula's," Frankie finally interjected, and though her voice was calm, there was no mistaking the simmering anger in her eyes. "As to the rest, I am no child. I am the great-granddaughter of King Louis XIV of France, royalty by blood, a duchess by marriage, and though I may not look like much to you, I can assure you that in manners, position, and I dare say breeding, I am your superior in entirety."
Louise sent her a malicious glare.
"How dare you!"
"In fact, only a child would insult or criticize a complete stranger in the manner you have just done. A mature adult, or perhaps I should say the supposed great daughter of a king, would have behaved with at least a modicum of decorum," she challenged calmly.
The daughter of Dracula suddenly rose from her seat in response to Frankie's contentious words, and she now leaned over the table, making no effort to hide her dislike of the woman seated across from her.
"Do you honestly think I care for your supposed lineage? I am certain that no matter what you think you have seen or endured, I outrank you in experience at the very least!"
"Not that this is a competition, Miss Poincaré, but I somehow doubt what you've seen even comes close to what I have," Frankie answered softly, never once looking away from Louise's feral gaze.
She would not be intimidated – not by this one.
"I have seen wars!" the blonde declared.
"And I have fought them."
"I have seen the death of loved ones; have had them torn from my breast by the vicious spawn of Satan. I have seen death and famine and pestilence unlike you can even imagine!"
"I survived a loveless marriage to a man who made my life a living hell when I could not give him the son he wanted," Frankie responded plainly. "When the devil came to offer me freedom, my husband's blood was the first I spilled, and in my wake has been the shadow of death itself. Because of a prophecy that has literally branded me as your father's unwilling property, I have been forced to watch not only lovers but beloved family members and friends die, sometimes at my very own hand. You may be well acquainted with death and grief, Miss Poincaré, but I know them both intimately."
The composed proclamation took Louise aback but she refused to be second to Frankie.
"Mariella's prophecy was made over three centuries ago. Perhaps your supposed grief could have been avoided if you had not shied away from your duty. Undoubtedly, the death of your loved ones was the consequence of your arrogance and cowardice!"
"Only the truly arrogant and cowardly have a need to raise their voice," was Frankie's cool response, though Louise's verbal lashing had broken skin. She would not give this intolerantly rude woman the satisfaction of knowing she had hit a nerve. "What are you? A little yapping dog convinced that it's bigger than it actually is?"
The table that sat between the two women was suddenly upturned and Louise went flying for Frankie's throat.
Jack made a move to step between the two when Frankie's hand moved like a blur, snatching Louise's before her fist could even touch her. With a slight flick, the wrist of Dracula's eldest daughter was broken in half. Louise immediately crumbled to the ground at the feet of her father's betrothed, the latter still seated in her chair. The former made an effort to free herself from the woman's unforgiving grip, but Frankie only held her harder, another slight movement causing both bones in her counterpart's forearm to snap as well.
Louise's screams echoed off the subway walls, her fangs lengthened and angry tears soon streaming from her eyes. Yet Frankie would not yield. She made a sharper movement with her wrist. There was a pop and then an unearthly shout as Louise's entire arm was snapped in half at the elbow.
"Francesca, that's enough," Jack insisted, but the woman ignored him. Her eyes had darkened considerably, her gaze bearing down into the humbled expression of the other female who watched in horror as her captor's fangs lengthened.
"The only disappointment in this room, Louise Poincaré, is you," Frankie hissed in French, as a strength from some force unknown was suddenly boiling inside of her. "What would Dracula say? I think he'd actually have the gall to be disappointed."
"How dare you even speak his name!" Louise protested in between sobs. "You unworthy connasse!"
The unsavory insult brought Frankie to her feet, the swift action causing the breaks in Louise's arm to worsen and the woman howled.
"I am not afraid of that bastard," the brunette growled. "Would you like to know what happened to me because of your precious father?"
Frankie took her free hand and with the nail of her thumb managed to cut the skin of her forefinger. Louise struggled when she saw the blood, desperately trying to get away from it.
"Don't touch me! Don't you dare touch me!"
"FRANCESCA, STOP!" Jack shouted, the plea catching Frankie's attention and she turned her hell-bent gaze in his direction, immediately noting the concern in his eyes.
"She will never learn, Jack, if she is not taught," Frankie answered and she pressed her bleeding digit against the flesh of Louise's cheek.
The woman's screams had been dreadful before, but now they were haunting and violent.
The blonde thrashed under Frankie's unbreakable hold as the small droplet of blood suddenly began to eat away at Louise's flawless cheek like acid. Jack watched in horror and disbelief as the flesh of his sister's face began to dissolve away slowly, bubbling and cracking, the small wafts of steam rising up from the skin stinking of molten sulfur until Frankie had finished making her point.
Quicker than lightning she carved the infected piece of flesh out of Louise's face with her nail, tossing it aside. The moment this was done, Louise was dropped to the ground, the woman sobbing hysterically as she struggled to heal herself. She touched her face repeatedly, weeping as the gaping hole in her cheek very slowly stitched itself back together – much slower than was normal. It took several minutes of silence, but her wounds finally started to heal properly and her crying lessened into breathless whimpers as the blonde dared to look up at the woman she had devastatingly underestimated.
After checking her temper, Frankie took a deep breath before extending her hand to the female on the ground in a sign of mercy. Louise's initial reaction was to shrink away from the offer, the pain that had been inflicted upon her still much too fresh in her mind.
"I would not have you fear me," Frankie assured her. "I will not harm you again. I swear it."
She could sense Louise's uncertainty – and quite frankly, she couldn't blame the woman. But violence was a common language amongst the undead, one each learned to speak with fluency, and when Louise was certain that she was no longer in danger, at last she raised a trembling hand towards the one offered to her.
The moment their palms touched, however, something jolted through Frankie's entire being like a bolt of electricity and it knocked her back, sending her straight to the ground.
Everything went dark for a split second in Frankie's conscious mind and then there was a blinding light – and a familiar whirlwind of images and emotions that she could only assume were Louise's memories.
She could see the young Louise in her mind's eye, a carefree girl living in the French countryside with her father and mother. At ten years of age, Louise's mother had died and her father took her to America in hopes of a new life. She watched her grow into a beautiful young woman, engaged to a wealthy tradesman who loved and wanted her. But he had perished in a tragic accident before the wedding could take place and Louise had then run away to Paris – the home of her mother – to start anew. It was during Louise's years in the French capital that the memories became more distinct and vivid.
Louise had gone from fortunate beauty to street urchin in a matter of two weeks – her only earthly possessions being the clothes on her back, a small purse of gold coins, and her most prized possession – her dead fiancé's violin. Within days, her money was long spent, and she soon had nowhere to go and no friend to offer her shelter. It was one evening in particular that became more explicit in Louise's memories and Frankie watched with fascination as the scene played out before her.
Louise had been hiding in the rafters of a local theater, where a performance was being rehearsed. The lead soprano was a Mademoiselle Mylène Hermès, and in Louise's mind, the singer was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Mylène's hair was as gold as the sun, her skin pure as freshly fallen snow, and her eyes more captivating than anything else the young girl had ever witnessed. But it was that angelic voice that drew her in, the voice of a siren, hypnotic and alluring.
But there was something that Frankie instantly noticed about Mylène that Louise had not at the time – Mylène was a vampire, and an old one from the looks of it.
Frankie watched as the memories continued to play out.
The diva discovered Louise hiding in the rafters one evening after a concert and soon lured her down from her hiding spot. Louise was seduced and her virginity taken by the expertise of the immortal opera singer, and with little effort the young girl was persuaded to be herself in love, having no idea that Mylène was only using her for blood, pleasure, and her talent on the violin.
The two traveled together for over a year as the singer toured, claiming the young girl was her servant, when in truth she was her lover. Their time together was intense, the affair torrid and brazen, but on a fateful evening, the tryst ended abruptly when Mylène was attacked in her hotel room by vampire hunters who slaughtered her in the early hours of the morning.
Louise had managed to escape the men, heading back to Paris on foot, devastated and alone. She was constantly hungry but whatever she could manage to get her hands on never seemed to cure the ache in her belly. Food no longer sated her. Drink could not quench her thirst. Frankie had but to guess what was happening.
All of those blood and sex filled sessions with Mylène had put Louise on course for transition. She had seen it before time and again when a human pet of a vampire had received enough venom to cause their bodies to turn unexpectedly. Most died during the process, and for Louise, she would have met the same fate had it not been for Dracula who had stumbled upon her one night.
As was usual with the memories of the Dracul Sânge, Dracula to Frankie was nothing but a shadow, a figure concealed in darkness, a face the woman never had the chance to properly see. But she had, however, come to recognize the feeling of his presence in their memories and she watched as the king of vampires took uncharacteristic pity on a stranger and helped Louise through her transition by offering her his blood. When the girl was finally stable, he had attempted to desert her, but as Louise's memories told, during the next few evenings the two constantly ran into each other, their paths always crossing.
Frankie observed as Louise struggled to feed, nearly starving because she couldn't bring herself to cause pain to another human. That is when Dracula took on a more permanent role in her life. Through gentle persuasion and a tender sense of care and affection that Frankie had not seen in him in the memories of the boys, Dracula managed to teach Louise how to feed. He trained her, took care of her, and the gentleness in his demeanor was thoroughly surprising. She had always assumed Dracula to be brutal and ruthless, unforgiving and selfish in the department of women. But with Louise, he was sweet and understanding, yet still stern when disobeyed – like a father.
Shortly thereafter, she joined the ranks of his elite group of warriors before being adopted as one of the Dracul Sânge. After that, the remaining memories flowed like water through Frankie's mind until at last, they were finished, and the woman blacked out entirely.
"Louise, what have you done?" Jack exclaimed, rushing to the unconscious Frankie and falling to his knees beside her motionless body. Though still shaken and even a bit confused by what had just happened to her, Louise managed to answer.
"I – I didn't do anything, I swear," she stammered. "She just offered me her hand and I took it and then she fell. You saw it! You were standing right there!"
"I swear, Lou, if you harmed her in any way…"
"I didn't do anything!"
"Would the two of you please stop bickering? You're not making my headache any better," Frankie mumbled, her eyes struggling to open.
"SEE! I told you I didn't do anything wrong! She's fine," Louise shot in her brother's direction, pushing herself to her feet and dusting off her dress. She continued to defend herself, even as her brother helped Frankie into a seated position.
"Francesca, are you alright?"
Frankie gripped his arm as she felt the familiar struggle for breath come on.
"In my coat pocket… get the syringe out … quickly…"
Everything started to click as Jack suddenly realized what was going on. Frankie had unintentionally absorbed Louise's memories.
"Louise for the love of GOD, will you SHUT UP?" Jack shouted, apologizing briefly to Frankie when she cringed. Louise finally stopped talking, but she was quick to send her brother a nasty look.
"Don't tell me to…"
"Bring me her jacket."
"What?"
"Francesca's jacket on her chair! Bring it here! Now!"
With a huff, the blonde ceded and fetched the coat from off the fallen chair, bringing it over to Jack who snatched it from her hands quickly, desperately rummaging through the pockets until he found the syringe. He quickly stabbed the needle into Frankie's chest and then waited, all the while ignoring his sister's persistent questions.
It took a minute or two for Rémy's serum to kick in, but when it did, Frankie sighed in relief as Louise's loud memories began to grow quiet and her strength started to return to her.
At least she had remembered to feed a little before this one…
"Are you alright?" Jack asked after a while, sending her a concerned look. When she smiled and nodded her head, his face relaxed. "Good."
"Would everyone just stop ignoring me for five seconds and tell me what the hell is going on?" Louise insisted. Both Jack and Frankie looked up at the woman and then back to one another.
"I think I've had my fill of her for one evening," she told the man, not evening bothering to look at the blonde. "I'll leave the explaining to you, if that's alright."
"Of course. I completely understand," and he began to help her to her feet.
"Wait, you're leaving? But what about the interview?" Louise interjected.
"That won't be necessary," Frankie insisted. "What I have will have to be enough for now."
"What do you mean what you have? What does she mean by that?"
"I'll explain it to you after we've gotten home," Jack replied sternly. "And only after Zeke has talked to you because once he hears what you pulled, he's going to give you an earful and a half!"
That seemed to silence the woman, her lips suddenly pursed into a thin and angry line. With a flick of her golden hair, her head held high, she turned to gather her few belongings as her brother returned his attention to the brunette at his side.
"She won't get into too much trouble, will she?" Frankie wondered quietly.
Jack merely shrugged.
"Zeke is technically the head of the household until Father makes an appearance, so her punishment is completely up to him. But he won't break any of her bones or anything like that if that's what you're worried about," and he winked. She blanched, ashamed of her previous behavior, but Jack was quick to reassure her. "Though he will definitely be ripping her a new one, which, frankly, she's in need of. Father always had a weak spot for the girls. Don't get me wrong – they were disciplined if they disobeyed him. But it was never to the extent they should have been. I think having you around will bring some nice balance to the family."
"I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am. I shouldn't have lost my temper like that."
"Don't be – Lou was asking for it."
"You know I can hear you, right?" Louise began, but Jack ignored her.
"That's no excuse. I shouldn't have gone that far," Frankie continued in a low voice. "I know she won't listen to me, but when you guys are safe and things have calmed down…"
"Don't worry. I'll talk to her," he said with a smile. "Although now that I've seen you lose your temper, I can't help but wonder what you look like when you're beyond all reason," and he helped her into her jacket.
"Let's just say if I get really riled up, there are seldom any survivors."
"Sounds like Father."
Frankie sent him a look and he laughed.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Force of habit."
"There is no point in apologizing if you're going to be repeatedly making those comparisons like that," she sighed, offering him somewhat of a smile. "Well, that was by far the quickest interview I've ever conducted."
"No kidding. I guess I'll get in contact with you soon about the next one. Tempest is the only one left and I'm sure once everybody hears about how stellar this evening went, she'll be on her best behavior."
The two glimpsed over at Louise who still looked a little cross.
The burn on her face from Frankie's blood was still healing slowly, something the blonde female was apparently ignorant of as she sneered a little in their direction.
"Are you going to be alright getting back to Carmen's by yourself?"
"I'm supposed to meet Lyra in Czuczor Square in several hours but I can just send her a text and let her know we finished early."
Jack looked a little unsure, but instead of arguing, he merely nodded his head.
The evening air had become rather frigid as Frankie, Jack, and Louise emerged from the old metro entrance. From what they could tell, the Urmen festival was still in full swing off in the distance, but this part of the district remained quiet and still. Frankie sighed when they reached the surface, relieved to be out in the open and she turned to look at Jack and Louise.
She opened her mouth to bid them goodbye when a movement caught her attention in a distant alley between two buildings. Honing in on it, she noticed a conspicuous looking man dressed head to toe in black with a mask concealing his identity. In his leather clad hand was a long-range sniper rifle with a silencer screwed into the barrel, the moon from above glistening against the metal weapon.
There was a click and then an audible crack as a bullet came streamlining across the length of the boulevard heading straight for the back of Louise's head.
There was no time for a warning.
Frankie dove for both of them and with inhuman strength, she shoved the siblings to the ground, the bullet grazing her own shoulder and slicing through the sleeve of her coat.
A searing pain shot down her arm. She clutched the scratch with her hand in an attempt to dull the sting, hissing while her fangs lengthened instinctually at the scent of her own blood, irises starting to glow. She quickly looked at the brother and sister who appeared more stunned than anything else before gazing back at the shooter who was swearing violently. She heard another click as he aimed once again and the purple glow of Frankie's irises began to turn red.
"Get her out of here," she ordered Jack.
"What about– " the man had begun but she cut him off as another shot was fired.
"Back into the tunnels NOW!" she barked and she took another bullet, this time full on in the shoulder.
She felt the hot silver searing a path through muscle and ligaments before exiting out her back, but like the scratch on her shoulder, the injury slowly started to heal.
Unfortunately, she was still not at full strength and any further blood-loss would start to have an adverse effect on her healing abilities. But this masked killer had tried to take out one of the Dracul Sânge which meant someone knew of their being in the city.
If that intel got back to Augustine…
Before Frankie could even finish the thought, she noticed the assassin turning to run away in the opposite direction. There was no way that fool was going to get away with this and she took off at a run, chasing after him just as Jack and Louise disappeared back underground.
Frankie was quick to regret her choice of consuming cloned human blood earlier this evening instead of something with more substantial benefits. If she had been feeding properly as she ought to have been by now, she'd probably be more on top of her game and the lingering pain in her shoulder that was still struggling to abate wouldn't be an issue.
But if the assassin was a vampire, as she assumed he was, here was her chance to at least rectify that particular problem.
It was time to hunt.