Happy Friday the 13th, loves! Hope everyone is doing well. Many thanks to Scarlet Empress, inkmagpie, and She-Devil Red for the reviews this week. You 3 are absolute gems and your support and consistency means so damn much to me - more than you will ever know.
Vlad and Frankie finally reunite in this chapter! Let's see how that goes...
Copyright © 2021 TSM. All rights reserved.
Chapter 4
Where He Belongs
It had been a couple of hours since Frankie had returned from the cemetery on the other side of town, and yet Jack's departing words continued to echo in her mind.
Don't give up hope just yet, he had said. If I believed in otherworldly powers, I'd trust in Mariella's prophecies over any other celestial miracle. You and Father will be together. I don't know how, but I know it will happen.
The woman had initially dismissed the sentiment as an act of charity on his part, but now she couldn't seem to ignore the impact his sincerity had had on her person the longer his words stewed in her brain. She would never admit to it aloud, but some secret part of her wished him to be correct in his faith, that perhaps someday she and Vlad would be given a second chance, an opportunity to make things work – even if such a likelihood at present appeared to be little more than fantasy.
While lost in her own private thoughts, Frankie continued to absently listen to Vesper's language lessons, the girl seated beside her and reading some innocuous French text aloud at the bar. The woman only ever spoke to correct the teenager's occasional mispronunciation of a word.
It was certainly nice to be in the company of friends – a luxury she had willingly forgone in the last few weeks especially – but it wasn't long before Frankie found herself craving the familiar solitude of her office, the reprieve and sense of control that could only be found when buried in work. This place was saturated in memories of Vlad and indulging in reminisces that came with her surroundings only seemed to stir up her inner turmoil – the guilt, the longing, the conflict, and the intolerable ache in her heart.
The woman raked her fingers through her hair and lightly tugged the roots in an effort to calm herself, sensing a well-known agitation growing inside of her, but the longer she sat there at the bar listening to Vesper, the more anxiety-ridden she became.
The disputing thoughts in her head were soon like a swarm of angry bees, all buzzing about in contradictory rhythms until it felt as though she were on the brink of some chaotic insanity of thought. Feeding certainly couldn't soothe her, nor could the liquor, a smoke – not even the walks she had made a regular habit of in the evening seemed capable of pacifying her. After her meeting with Jack, it seemed her every waking thought was now consumed in memories of Vlad. To add insult to injury, she was struggling to appear sedate and indifferent, unable to suppress the recollections of each conversation they had shared in this room, every stolen glance or secret touch.
Frankie knocked back her shot of whiskey and then closed her eyes as if doing so would help her dispel the memories and regain control, but even when she tried concentrating on Vesper's French, she couldn't seem to stay focused. With her eyes shut, more memories she had desperately tried burying for months now were suddenly resurfacing, bubbling over like a bot of boiling water left on the stove for too long –
The time he had teased her over erotic art.
The time he had been her saving grace after she had been attacked on her way home from her interview with Louise.
The time he had kissed her hand.
Then there was that incident in the cellar after Rémy's meeting with Aldrick Meino – that kiss.
The way he had touched her, tasted her… the carefully suppressed sounds of his pleasure when their clothed bodies met.
Frankie became aware of a growing tension in her body, her sense of self-control diminishing.
She needed release, some kind of relief from her incessant state of anxiety and sexual frustration; an escape, something to help cool her off and balance her out again. She opened her eyes and slipped off the barstool, standing abruptly.
Sitting here wasn't going to make that happen.
Prepared to leave without a word of explanation, she turned to exit when the front door suddenly opened.
The night air rushed in, carrying with it the scent of a familiar man – cologne, leather, and mountain air after a storm. Her body's response was instantaneous.
The crown of her head tingled and her cheeks grew warm, breasts heavy, all tied together by a delightful shiver that rushed down the entire length of her spine, sending her to shudder visibly as if from a chill. The woman watched in barely veiled astonishment as Dracula – the last man she ever expected to see walk through that door again – now entered the establishment, crossing over the threshold, his eyes meeting hers as if it were a reflex.
Breath was certainly not something one of the undead required to survive, yet instinct had Frankie gasping silently at his unanticipated arrival.
Was she dreaming?
Was this some sort of elaborate fantasy? Had her mind at last given way to madness or had her thoughts truly been responsible for this sudden manifestation?
She hardly knew.
All Frankie knew was that the very man whose absence and memory had been tormenting her for weeks and weeks now was suddenly standing a handful of paces away and the very sight of him had effectively stilled her. Her mind went blissfully quiet, her entire being relaxing for the first time in months, as if his presence was all it took to soothe her inner conflict. It was enough to make her want to cry, though by some miracle, she abstained.
Dracula said nothing when his eyes met hers.
In fact, he hadn't moved from his place in front of the still open door.
His expression was impossible to read. He didn't appear displeased by the sight of her, though – a promising sign. If anything, he seemed just as astonished as she was.
The man certainly hadn't changed in appearance. He was just as tall, dark, and devastatingly handsome as he had always been, dressed with a sense of conscientiousness that she had always appreciated but seemed to love all the more now that she was seeing him for the first time in months.
Vesper, who had turned around to see where Frankie had been headed, shouted Vlad's name in astonishment, her face lighting up in surprise.
"Vlad! Frankie, Vlad is back!"
The sound of her own name violently pulled Frankie out of her private thoughts and into reality again. Her gaze never broke from Dracula's, but after some seriously effort, she did manage to find her voice again.
"Vesper, would you please go tell Rémy that Mr. Leinhart is here?" she instructed quietly.
The teenager, too excited to be conscious of the profound tension between her mentor and the recently arrived gentleman, did as she was told without question, vanishing into the back so she could go and fetch the others – leaving the pair alone for just a brief moment.
When the girl was gone, Dracula finally shut the front door and took a step forward, struggling to decipher the look on Frankie's face.
She certainly wasn't angry to see him – which was a relief if he was being honest with himself; but his presence had taken her off guard, her gaze having not left his since his arrival, lips gently parted in wonder.
"You came back," was all she said.
"Your brother requested my presence," he explained evenly, desperate to conceal his true feelings.
It was as if he had never left, as though they had never been parted. In that moment, he felt like it had been only last night they had so passionately kissed in Carmen's cellar, even if it had been almost a year since that fateful evening. He could still remember how she tasted on his tongue, the feel of her fingers in his hair and her legs around his waist, her body against his… the mere thought had him absently licking his lips as if in anticipation.
Little did he know that Frankie's thoughts had taken a similar route, recalling the incident with perfect clarity. But the strangest thing was that for the first time in her life, it was as if she could see him – truly see him as he was beneath the glamour of the concealment charm hidden away behind his shirt. She could sense the power radiating from him, the palpable sexual tension and inexplicable connection between them – just like that night in Venice so many years ago. She could feel him all the way down in her bones – waves of liquid warmth followed by an almost delightful chill that ran up her back, forcing her to stand a little straighter before him.
He was like dark magic personified and in an instant, she was lost in those eyes again. Despite the danger that was still very real, and the seemingly endless obstacles between them that she still had to traverse, there was nothing Frankie wanted more in the entire world than for him to close this intolerable distance between them. She wanted him to hold her, to kiss her as if nothing had changed. She had never craved her own complete and utter surrender more in her entire goddamned life.
But with that single wish, reality – as it often did – came careening back into the foreground of her mind, dousing her raging hormones in a much needed ice bath as she was forced to acknowledge just why he had been gone so long in the first place.
And with that recollection came a terrible ache and it took every ounce of self-control she had to maintain her distance as she battled her instincts.
"How have you been these last months?" was all she could think to say, her mind immediately following up her own query with a – have you been as miserable as I have been?
But Dracula had not read her mind. He had been previously lost to his own thoughts, but her voice brought him back to the present.
"Tolerable," he lied with ease, remaining the very picture of stoic indifference and control, though beneath the surface he was anything but. "You?"
"Busy," she replied.
"Ah."
Talking… yes. Talking is good.
"I did notice that you had been writing a great deal over the last few months."
She visibly perked up at that.
"You've been following my work?"
"When I can," he quickly tacked on, not wishing to reveal that he had gotten into the nightly habit of not only obsessively checking the Veritas webpage for any new updates to Madame Nemo's column, but rereading old posts and exposés. "My time has been otherwise engaged these last few months." Frankie's heart sank a little, but then he added, "In spite of my prolonged absence, your brother had no qualms in sending me plenty to do, to investigate…"
"I see."
The conversation stilted and neither party was quite sure what more to say.
Walls were clearly up, but the curiosity and pull one toward the other remained, and the longer they lingered there in silence, the more the tension mounted.
And then Dracula suddenly moved.
"Miss Chase," he began, taking a step forward. Frankie felt her undead heart leap up into her throat.
"Yes?"
But before they could continue, they were interrupted.
"Vlad!" Rémy exclaimed from the hall as he entered the room, Vesper and Carmen following close behind. The sound of the man's voice was like a cold slap to the face, and both Vladislaus and Francesca visibly jolted at the sudden intrusion. "Damn it, man, you have the most impeccable timing! It's wonderful to see you!"
The two men shook hands warmly, though Dracula struggled to keep his attention on his friend instead of the man's sister.
"I'm glad to see you as well. It's been too long."
"Couldn't agree more! I hope things have improved for you?"
"I fear that is yet to be determined," he answered, unwittingly sending Francesca a subtly questioning look, but she never had the chance to respond to it. "But I'm at your disposal for the present, and I suppose that is all that matters right now."
"Yes. Absolutely. I can't thank you enough for coming on such short notice. We could certainly use you. We're just in the back."
"You don't meet out front anymore?" Dracula inquired as he followed Rémy toward the hall.
"Quite a bit has changed since you left. We finally finished the war room and that's where we tend to meet these days. We had it sound-proofed and everything. Come. The others will be glad to see you."
When the two gentlemen finally disappeared, Frankie, realizing that she had been staring, blinked once and then turned to her right to find both Carmen and Vesper eyeing her curiously.
"What?" she inquired a little defensively.
The faintest hint of a smile curved both female's lips as they exchanged knowing looks.
"You're blushing," was all Carmen said.
The two words were like a sobering slap and Frankie snapped out of the stupor Dracula's sudden return had left her in.
"No I'm not," she immediately defended, and while Vesper returned to her seat to continue reading, Carmen remained, smirking a little deviously.
"If you say so."
"Shut up," Frankie muttered, trying to suppress her own grin as she too sat back down at the bar, but not before she poured herself another generous shot of whiskey.
The three ladies lingered for the next few minutes in a silence that proved rather uncomfortable for Frankie, until thankfully, just before Carmen could go all "Spanish Inquisition" on her, Danny appeared from the back.
"Hey, Frank?"
"Yes?" she asked a little too eagerly.
"Your brother wants to see you."
The woman was out of her seat in an instant, but before she could reach the hall, Carmen had cut her off, leaning in close, her voice low.
"When are you going to tell me what's going on?"
"Nothing's going on."
Carmen rolled her eyes.
"And when are you going to stop lying to me?"
"I'm not lying about anything."
"Something happened between you and Leinhart. I could cut that sexual tension with the blunt edge of a butter knife!"
"There's nothing between us," she insisted, making her way to move around her friend.
"Frankie…"
"Not now, Carmen," and she disappeared down the corridor, ignoring her friend's huff of disapproval.
Danny was waiting for her at the other end of the hall, and when she approached, he opened the door, allowing her to enter first before following.
There was a large table in the center of the dimly lit room, key members of the alliance either seated around the board or standing near it, her brother at its head with Lyra beside him. There was a holographic projection of a three-dimensional map of the eastern portion of Budapest over the table – a fancy bit of tech that Lyra had somehow gotten her hands on a few months back from an "anonymous supporter of the cause."
While she never said who that person actually was, Frankie took it as a sign that Jacob Šarić was back in town.
Upon her entry, a small number of the men who had been seated stood – clearly of an older stock, for most of the male sex in this day and age proved less conscientious of the more old fashioned sensibilities – but this collective action interrupted Rémy's current speech and he looked up, smiling at her as Danny shut the door.
"Ah, Frank – come in. We were just discussing something that may be of interest to you."
"And what might that be?" she inquired, wasting no time at all when it came to locating Dracula with her eyes. The only space available around the table was at his side and though his very presence threatened to undo her, she folded her arms over her chest in a habitually self-conscious act of defense as she stood on his right.
"You remember that article you wrote for Veritas a few weeks ago? About your theories regarding the recent rash of disappearances of humans and dhampirs and a possible connection to the virus that broke out a few years ago?"
"Of course I remember," she said, desperately trying not to look at Vlad, especially since she could feel his eyes on her.
"Apparently, one of your readers happened upon something that may be of interest to you."
"And what is that?"
"Irrefutable proof."
"What?" the woman asked, and her arms fall to her sides as she took a step closer to the table, now filled with a kind of disbelief.
"We got an anonymous tip an hour or two ago," Danny explained, now standing on the other side of her brother. "An email addressing Rémy specifically – though we're not quite sure how this person got a hold of his info – but they sent us these," and with a few taps on a tablet, a number of digital photographs appeared on the illuminated hologram over the table. Frankie recognized a number of the locations of the pictures almost immediately.
With another tap, one of the stills began to move – a video – and what this anonymous source had captured astonished her.
"Whoever our good Samaritan is, they managed to acquire actual footage of a live abduction, and after sending it to an outside source for verification, we've received confirmation that what we're looking at is undoctored," Lyra narrated as Frankie watched the horrifying video of a pair of darkly-clad men attacking, sedating, and kidnapping an unsuspecting woman just outside of her own home before shoving her into a van where there appeared to be a couple more unconscious individuals. "The GPS coordinates on these next set of pictures provide us with a timeline of where the van went next. The first stop was here," and one of the pictures was enlarged. "A brothel."
"Not just any brothel… that's one of the Spider's main establishments," Frankie explained, seeming to confirm the suspicions of the others in the room.
"Two of the abducted individuals were dropped off here. The email states that they were then branded and distributed to another feeding house a number of blocks away," Lyra continued. "The others, however, were transported here," and she motioned for Danny to enlarge another image.
"Isn't that the blood factory we managed to close down seven years ago?"
"The very same," her brother confirmed. "And the source says it's been in operation for well over a year now."
"But how is that possible? The state of uproar from the people alone had been enough to convince the council to shut that entire district down. Reopening it again doesn't seem worth the risk of bad PR."
"That's why I called you in here," Rémy explained, glancing at Vlad for just a moment before returning his attention to his sister. "It seems I owe you an apology."
Frankie's brows furrowed a little.
"You do?"
"Yes. You had told me numerous times not to trust Meino or get my hopes up on allying with or at least neutralizing the Spider, but I ignored your counsel. It seems the Spider has been on Augustine's payroll for some time, running a number of criminal enterprises that extend beyond his usual M.O. – in particular, the illegal harvesting of human and dhampir blood."
"But why? The feeding houses are not only government sanctioned, but also incredibly lucrative. This just doesn't seem worth the risk. They have to know they'd get caught eventually."
"This is proving much bigger than the selling of unlawfully obtained and overpriced hemo," Lyra interjected. "Our anonymous tipper managed to retrieve a list of names kept by one of Basilio's underlings – a registrar of sorts. The abducted woman from earlier is on the list. These folks all have one thing in common. They've been infected."
"The virus," Frankie whispered, connecting the dots and she finally looked up at Vlad who had been watching her closely, her eyes searching his for some kind of assurance that there was a chance they could be mistaken, but his expression spoke otherwise. He finally joined the conversation.
"During my recent absence, Rémy had given me a number of things to check up on, tasks that would require some of my old contacts within the palace," he began carefully. "One particular assignment led me to an old laboratory the current administration used to fund – where this anti-vampire virus was supposedly created."
"What did you find?"
"Unfortunately, the place had been wiped clean by the time I arrived – completely destroyed beyond recognition, save a solitary piece of evidence which I immediately turned over to your brother, though he was convinced it was merely a coincidence at the time."
Rémy removed something from his pocket and placed it on the table. It was a gold cufflink with a black spider on the stud – an accessory Frankie recognized instantly.
"Basilio had been there," she said and each head in the room nodded.
"And guess who our anonymous source caught at the factory making the rounds?" Danny asked, tapping on another picture and low and behold, Basilio's image appeared on the hologram above the table.
"And look who was with him scoping out the place?" Lyra added.
Danny zoomed in on the photo and accompanying the Spider were a series of faces Frankie quickly recognized – Aldrick Meino and long-time allies of Marcus Augustine, Councilman Ildar and Councilwoman Sonya.
"Do we know how long Augustine has been in bed with the Spider?" Frankie asked next.
"We don't know for sure," Rémy admitted, "but given the circumstances, it wouldn't surprise me if they had been in cahoots with each other from the start."
"Then why would Aldrick agree to an association with the alliance?" someone in the room asked.
"Why wouldn't he?" Lyra explained. "He gets one step closer to being privy to what information we have and it makes it easier to keep his boss' projects hidden in plain sight. We never would have gotten close to uncovering this without his knowing if an outside informant hadn't sent us the evidence."
"Have they distributed any of the infected blood they've collected so far?" Frankie asked.
"Not that we know of," Danny replied. "Though given the shots of what they have stored inside the factory, they're perhaps a few weeks away from beginning to prep for distribution."
She sighed in open relief.
"So what's the plan?"
"That's the other reason why I wanted you in here," Rémy explained. "There's only one way into the industrial district of the city where the factory is located. Ideally, we'd get what survivors out that we can and then burn the place to the ground, but I don't want our people going in blind."
"What does that have to do with me?"
"For starters, we need the blue-prints to the place."
"That should be easy enough. You can hack the files of the palace archives as well as I can."
"They aren't there – that was the first place I checked."
"Then where are they?"
"Basilio has them on a private server."
Frankie paused for a moment as she started to follow her elder brother's train of thought.
She didn't like where this was headed.
"We'll also need the security access information so we can kill the alarms, get into restricted areas, et cetera."
"Let me guess. Basilio also has that information as well?"
Rémy only nodded.
This time it was Lyra's turn to glance between the two siblings, trying to catch up with their silent conversation of looks and she didn't particularly care for where that exchange was going, either.
"No," the redhead said immediately. "Fuck no, you're not sending her in there by herself!"
"We don't have much of a choice, Lyra," Rémy insisted. "If anyone else went in, Basilio would sniff the alliance out a mile away. Besides, he and Frankie not only already have a rapport, but the fact that she's pretty much been a ghost the last eight months would work to our advantage because she's not on Aldrick's radar." Francesca could feel the questioning burn of Vlad's gaze at that little revelation. She did her best to ignore him. "And she's got a slew of connections to the place – what with Vesper's biological mother, and…"
"I said no, Rémy," Lyra snapped. "That's fucking suicide, not to mention utter bullshit, you sending your own flesh and blood into that sadistic creep's lair without backup. Are you insane?"
"Are you volunteering to take her place, Kennedy? Because if you suddenly developed a talent for being subtle, I'd be more than happy to send you instead."
"Would you two please stop bickering for five seconds and let me think?" Frankie interrupted. She was granted the silence she requested – albeit a little begrudgingly – but it gave her a moment to carefully weigh her options whilst studying the informant's images before her.
The longer she observed the picture of Basilio, however, the more uneasy she became.
It had been over half a decade since she had crossed paths with the Spider – a dark, though thankfully brief chapter in her life. The man was not physically present in the room, but the mere sight of him made her queasy. Long suppressed recollections of her last encounter with him soon began to bubble up to the surface and she had to mask the shiver now running down her spine.
"You do realize that once Basilio knows what we've done, his retribution will be swift and without mercy?" she said at last. "The man is extremely territorial and any act of defiance on our part won't go unpunished. I know a lot of you in this room are used to the reprimands of the current regime, but the Spider cares very little for the law or negative press – if anything, he thrives on it. If we go down this path, there's no telling where it could lead us. But one thing is for certain: you can all kiss any anonymity you now have goodbye once you're on his radar. We will all have targets on our backs and shadows on our tails. His web stretches out across almost the entire city. If we do this, we have to be unanimous in this course of action."
"If we don't do something and that infected blood makes it to the populace, the outbreak that follows will be ten times as worse as the last one," Rémy insisted. "This time it won't just be the south quarter that gets wiped out. It could very well be all of us."
She knew he was right, of course. The consequences of doing nothing would be far more reaching than if they chose to do battle with the Spider. Frankie only hoped this wouldn't turn into a bloodbath before it was over.
"I'll head into the web tomorrow night," she announced. "I'll need someone to get in touch with Camilla first, though. I won't be able to get what I need without her help."
"I can send someone over tonight to deliver the message," Danny chimed in, though Lyra clearly didn't approve of this plan.
"Frankie, I want you to take Vlad with you tomorrow," Rémy announced, much to the surprise of not only his sister, but Dracula as well, the two glancing at each other for just a moment before quickly looking away.
"What? Why?" Lyra asked.
"Because contrary to popular belief," and he sent the redhead a nasty look, "I'm not exactly keen on the notion of her going in there alone."
"I can handle myself," Frankie insisted.
"I'd still feel better if you took someone with you, and since Vlad hasn't been around the last eight months either, he isn't on Aldrick's radar, which means he can linger in the background unnoticed and provide backup if you need it."
"Rémy…"
"I'm serious, Frankie. He's going with you."
"That is, if he has no objections," Lyra pointed out and soon all eyes, save Frankie's, were on Vlad.
The man, who had been fairly quiet throughout the majority of this conference, glanced over at the woman at his side, waiting for her eyes to meet his.
"Miss Chase is more than capable of handling this on her own. I'll only go it if it is what she desires," he said.
That seemed to get her attention.
She looked back at him the instant the words left his mouth, her expression difficult to decipher.
There was so much neither of them were saying, each secretly trying to comprehend what the other was thinking and feeling, yet to no avail. A part of Frankie wished she and he could be of the same mind so she could know just what it was that was running through his head, but the fact of the matter was she would never be privy to his private thoughts. That was a gift only blood-bound vampires shared – an experience she would never know.
She was still a mess of conflicting emotions beneath the surface, but Frankie sighed, relenting.
"I would be grateful for the company," she said at last, much to Vlad's secret relief.
While he was silently thanking whatever deity would listen for this small miracle, Frankie had returned her attentions to her brother.
"We'll meet back here after sundown tomorrow and I'll head out at about nine o'clock. Danny, let me know when you've gotten in contact with Camilla. Whatever assurances she wants, give them to her. I won't be the only one taking a risk, here."
"I'll keep you posted."
And with that, Frankie turned on her heel and exited from the room, even as her brother and best friend began to quarrel once more.
When the door shut behind her, her mask of resilience slipped a little as she covered her face, exhaling loudly.
How had this happened?
Why had she agreed to go on another assignment alone with a man she had been trying to stay away from?
Why had he chosen now to return instead of during the dozens of other times her brother had invited him back?
What had changed?
What was he thinking?
Frankie muttered an oath in her native tongue when she heard those still in the room starting to disassemble as the meeting had been formally adjourned. Those who had been in attendance began to file out into the hall, making their way down to the main gathering area so they could spend the rest of the evening hours socializing. She knew she should have used the moment to retreat, perhaps slip out and go home before anyone noticed her absence so she could process everything, but she couldn't bring herself to leave.
It went against every rational thought she was having, but she needed to see him alone.
The last ones out the door, and in lively conversation no less, as if nothing had ever changed and no time had been lost between them were Rémy, Danny, and Vlad. Frankie's brother was all smiles as he was busy recounting some event that Vlad had missed in his absence. Dracula played the role of engaged listener well and Frankie waited for the man's eyes to find hers again, but it was as though he was pretending, or at the very least trying, not to notice her standing there expectantly in the hallway. The gentleman passed right by her as if he was too engrossed in his present conversation and for the briefest of moments, Frankie wondered if Vlad was ignoring her.
The very real possibility that this was the case wounded her a little, but she could not resent him for it – even if it was a little juvenile.
After all, she had been the one that had all but banished him those eight months ago, cruelly declaring that he didn't belong, that she didn't want him. Frankie would have understood perfectly if he was still angry with her and perhaps this sudden silence of his was his way of getting back at her? It was petty, but that insecure side of her brain figured he was justified in behaving thus. But she didn't want them to quarrel. Not like this, especially now that they were to work together again.
They needed to clear the air.
She needed to clear the air.
And so Frankie called out the name of his alias, trying not to sound as timid as she felt when the others stopped and turned at the sound of her voice.
"Mr. Leinhart? Might I have a word with you for just a moment?" she asked carefully, hating how awkward she was suddenly feeling. Danny and Rémy excused themselves, thinking nothing of it as they informed the man that they'd be at their usual table, waiting for him when he was done.
Dracula never turned around fully to face her until they were alone in the hall.
It was so strange, seeing him not as the Vlad Leinhart she had once known, but as Vladislaus Drăculea. In fact, she almost couldn't believe that the others remained unable to see it.
Vlad never uttered a word as he waited patiently for her to begin, his expression impenetrable and in that moment, Frankie wondered if he was even the same man she had been secretly pining for these last eight months.
"So," she managed in some feeble attempt to dispel the tension, "it would appear we are to work together once again."
She paused, waiting for him to make some kind of reply in acknowledgement, but he offered her nothing. Her anxiety began to worsen as she started to translate his persistent silence for resentment.
"Have you nothing to say?" she asked him outright.
"No," was his reply and Frankie felt her heart fall a little. "I am only here because your brother insisted it was urgent," he continued stoically. "Had I known it would put me at odds with your previous wishes, I would have declined. If you would like me to suggest another person to accompany you tomorrow, I will of course…"
"No, that's not what I want," she interrupted, not carrying for the hint of desperation in her own voice, but unable to suppress it.
He was still upset with her – it was so clear to her now; and while his current behavior had her internally berating herself for how unfeeling she had been when they had last met, it also left her feeling disappointed that time had not softened him toward her as she had selfishly hoped.
When are you going to stop being so damn naïve, Francesca? she silently berated herself.
"Then what do you want?" he inquired.
What Frankie wanted was to scream.
This was so frustrating!
Why was it so difficult to talk to this man, to comprehend what he was thinking and feeling? Others had always accused her of having impenetrable walls, but Vlad's were far worse than anything she had ever managed to manufacture. In the past, she had been able to read him better, to at least decipher when he was and wasn't saying something, but now… it was like she didn't know him at all and that pained her more than she could have ever predicted.
She didn't want them to be this way. Yes, she had initially wanted him to stay his distance, to hate her so he could stay safe, but now that he appeared thus, she found it was not what she wanted at all. She wanted to feel easy in his presence again. She wanted to heal the rift she had so foolishly created.
In that moment, Frankie couldn't bear the thought of him thinking poorly of her. It hurt too much.
"I owe you an apology," she found herself saying at last. "I was unpardonably rude and unfeeling to you eight months ago and I have regretted the words I had spoken every day since."
Frankie hadn't anticipated being so honest with him, but now she was, and she soon found that she was incapable of stopping herself.
"When I said that you didn't belong here with the alliance, I was speaking from a place of fear and unjustified prejudice. The fact of the matter is, Mr. Leinhart, we have not been the same without you – nor has my brother, for that matter. He values your opinion tremendously and being without you these last months has, I fear, impacted everyone and everything and I take full responsibility for that. We've needed you… we still need you."
I need you, her subconscious added, and though the words were on the tip of her tongue, she somehow managed to swallow them.
"This is where you belong," she continued. "The alliance is as much yours as it is Rémy's or mine, or Danny's, or anyone else's. I hope you can, in your own time of course, forgive me for my selfishness, my cruelty and insecurity – though I recognize that I deserve no such courtesy. If my brother knew that it was I who was responsible for your absence, he would be furious… and I'd deserve every ounce of his indignation."
Dracula said nothing as she spoke, never interrupting or contradicting the harsh judgments she was now passing upon herself. In fact, he gave no indication as to the effect her words were having on him in that moment.
While he was the picture of cold indifference, he was secretly relieved on some level to see that her suffering had been as acute as his own had been, except she had had no Bernardini to vent or unburden herself to and Dracula couldn't help but feel for her… pity her.
Oh, Francesca, he thought secretly. Why did she always keep everything locked away to fester inside? Why did she insist on bearing the weight of the world on her own two shoulders instead of sharing it with those around her?
Dracula could not find it in him to judge her too harshly for that, however – he had done it himself more times than he cared to admit. A part of him was admittedly still wounded by her rejection, but that part had since grown infinitesimal when compared to the natural affection and care that was now flooding through his veins, just beneath the surface. He wanted to ease both of their suffering, to tell her that he understood why she had done what she had done, despite the fact that he still did not agree with or condone her actions in the slightest. But before he could allow himself to relax, she continued speaking.
"I know I have no right to ask you for anything," she said timidly, looking at the ground briefly before forcing herself to hold his gaze once more, "But I would wish for you to stay, for us to be friends… if we can."
Vladislaus visibly flinched at her offer.
He didn't want to be friends… he wanted her.
Platonic affection was not in either of their natures where this relationship was concerned. Surely she must have known that.
"I forgive you, Miss Chase, but surely you must see that the two of us being friends is entirely out of the question," he answered, though it was clear from the surprise that flashed in her eyes that she had completely misunderstood him.
"No, I suppose you are right," she replied, trying to appear unaffected by his words, even as they visibly gutted her. "You and I being friends would be quite impossible. I see that now," and she forced herself to smile, to appear unmoved while secretly her heart broke. "Then a return to civility it is," Frankie relented, though mostly to herself. "Well, I've taken up enough of your time. I'm sure you have a lot of catching up to do with my brother, so I'll just… go…" and in a moment of crippling self-loathing and disappointment, she retreated, moving passed him with her eyes fixed on the floor so she wouldn't have to look at him anymore.
"Francesca, wait…" he began, but before he could even begin to retract his words or at least explain them, Rémy had called his name from the other room.
"Vlad! Get in here! We're about to start!"
Dracula hated this.
It was clear the woman had misinterpreted his earlier silence, that she had misunderstood his rejection of friendship. He longed to explain himself, but she had bid him good evening and departed so fast, he hardly even had a chance to collect himself.
When she was gone, the man found himself standing by the bar as the others started to set up the cards and chips for their nightly round or two of poker. Carmen soon approached, standing on the other side of the counter with an expectant look in her eyes.
"Well, Vlad Leinhart? What'll your poison be? Your usual? Unless it's changed in the last few months?"
"It hasn't."
She poured him his whiskey and then watched as he knocked it back, smirking a little.
"Do you have something to say, Carmen?" he asked, tapping the rim of his glass twice in a silent request for more. As she poured him another round, she merely shrugged.
"No – just glad to have you back. It was strange not having you around. I hope you're here to stay this time?"
"I'm not sure yet," he confessed, "but I hope to be."
"So you and Frankie haven't made up entirely yet, then?"
He paused before he could take his second shot, sending her a strange look.
"What makes you say that?"
"She's been almost as scarce as you've been since you went away – hardly ever here, always drowning herself in work or a few philanthropy initiatives she's been trying to get going for those poor folks on the east-side. I know she'll never admit to it, but I think she missed you."
He said nothing in response to this intelligence, only offering Carmen a faint nod of acknowledgement before he went to join Rémy and the others when they started calling him over again to join their game.
So he hadn't imagined that, he thought to himself.
Frankie truly had missed him.
Her attempt at reconciliation had been genuine, her offer of friendship her endeavor to raise the white flag. It had been an invitation for them to be on more friendly terms – he could see that now, and privately he berated himself for making her think he held any kind of resentment toward her.
But despite the guilt he felt when it came to causing the woman discomfort, he was astonished to find that the next couple of hours spent in the company of old friends did wonders for his spirits. By the time he began to head home some hours later, even he had noticed an improvement in his state of being.
Sure, things with Francesca still needed to be resolved and circumstances weren't exactly as he would have liked them, but there was still fight in him yet. Things would be okay. He wasn't quite sure how he knew this or if it was even wise to indulge in such hope at a time like this, but optimism was better than despair and so Dracula chose to embrace it for what it was – a reprieve.
If you guys think Marcus Augustine is bad... wait until you meet Basilio (aka: The Spider) in the next chapter.
Don't forget to review! I'll see y'all in the next one :) Have a safe weekend.