Eternal Night (I) Chapter 3: The Pieces Are Set, a van helsing fanfic

Many thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter - Scarlet Empress, Anonymous, Riona Winters (aka: Cant remember PW), She-Devil Red, insatiables, RavenHuffle, 12345678910, Arwen17evenstar, and Aegystine Valeska. I appreciate your time, consideration, and feedback.

Specifically to Anonymous - since I lack the ability to PM you and respond privately to your expressed concerns, I'll do so at the end of the chapter. I did promise I would comment more on Dracula's characterization in this story and evidently the time for that is now. But for those who don't care or aren't bothered by what you've been reading, if you wish to continue on, here's the next chapter. I hope it doesn't disappoint.

Chapter 3
The Pieces Are Set

"You better have a damn good reason for showing your face," Dracula hissed, squeezing down on Lilith's throat, the cold metal of her necklace cutting into his hand. But his brute strength had no effect, as her smug grin remained fixed.

"Still holding that grudge against me?" and she tsked, taunting him. "Vladislaus, you knew quite well the implications of sharing my bed. It's not my fault you couldn't resist temptation."

The subtle red glow of her eyes began to work its familiar spell, her will testing his own as she attempted to seduce him with a single look. While he knew better from experience, Dracula allowed his gaze to linger on her for a moment longer than he probably should have. It had been well over three decades since he had seen the woman last, and yet the queen of hell hadn't aged a day.

With a lithe figure eternally in its prime, she looked more like an angel of heaven than the bride of the devil; her skin divinely smooth and flawless, hair long and effortlessly wavy. The tresses were a bright and tantalizing red that cascaded down her back and over her shoulders in rich waves, a few locks resting atop full breasts that were barely veiled by the thin chiffon-like material of the shift she wore. Her neck was slender and long in his hand, her signature gold metal choker around her throat glinting as it caught the light of the fire. In the center was a cloudy jewel, similar to a moonstone, and yet there was something about the crystal that had always unnerved him, and his eyes diverted back up toward her gaze.

He could feel the temptation growing as memories of the one illicit evening they had shared suddenly reentered his mind, despite his best efforts to banish them.

But Lilith's will was strong.

He strained to keep her out, could sense her unearthing long-buried memories – her body against his, calculated caresses and sighs of pleasure… the feel of her warmth milking him for all he was worth. Dracula knew perfectly well that she was manipulating him and the depth of his humiliation was just the fuel his anger needed to resist. With a growl of defiance, he shook his head once as if to banish her from his mind and with more force than was necessary, he released her throat and shoved her away from him. Lilith fell to the floor with a delighted laugh.

"If I had known the precise nature of those implications," he spat venomously, "I would have ejected you from my presence, as force seems to be the only thing you respond to – if you respond at all."

"What can I say? I like it rough," and in the blink of an eye she was standing again, smoothing out the creases in her gown idly as the man turned his back to her.

"I did not summon you, hell spawn. Go back to the pit where you belong."

"Such an ungrateful attitude," Lilith noted, not in the least bit put off by his brusqueness as she fingered the pale jewel on her throat. "And after everything I've done for you."

Dracula whirled around.

"Everything you've done for me?" he repeated, eyes starting to glow with fury. "When have you ever done anything for me?"

"I created you!" she reminded him, the words like the crack of a whip. "It was I that gifted you with immortality. Lucifer merely made the deal. I'm the one that did all the work."

"And since my creation, you have done nothing but wreak havoc in my life," he hissed, rapidly losing his temper. "You constantly pit Marcus against me, treating us both like we're inanimate pieces on a chessboard that you can move about on a whim without any thought of repercussion..."

"Yes – I'll admit to pulling your strings on occasion, although I suppose you've proven far more willful and difficult to control these last centuries – more than I could have anticipated."

"What's this? A compliment!" he announced dramatically, even as his tone oozed sarcasm.

"I told Lucifer not to choose you, but no! He has so much promise, he said. He'd never go rogue on me," and Lilith rolled her eyes. "I swear that fool never listens to anyone."

"You mean he never listens to you. Perhaps he ignores your advice to remind you that he is the one that rules Hell, not you," Dracula spat with a satisfied grin. The demoness glared in reply.

"Watch your tongue, Dracul, or I'll make that appendage flaccid as well."

Unmoved by her threat, he merely smiled, hands outstretched in invitation.

"You've already emasculated me. What further harm would my muteness bring?"

"Well, it'll be difficult for you to woo your lady-love if your silver tongue isn't working."

"My what?" he asked, tucking his head back in confusion.

"This isn't a social call, Vladislaus, though the devil knows how much I wish it was."

"I'm fairly certain the devil doesn't care."

She narrowed her eyes in response, but the corner of her lip twitched as if she were suppressing a grin.

"Let's stay focused on the task at hand, hmm?" She flicked her hair back a little dramatically before clearing her throat once as if to ensure she had his attention. Much to his chagrin, she did. "There's been some discussion in the last year or so between Heaven and Hell. There are countless souls trapped in a purgatory-like state that neither side can get to. Souls all made up of your kind."

She sounded oddly pleased by this fact, but he didn't give it much thought.

"Nosferatu don't have to go through the normal judgment process like the rest of mankind," he answered sardonically. "That was always part of the appeal, I thought."

"An unforeseen side-effect, some would argue. With your creation came a breaking of the natural order – which was always the intention, I'll admit, but being barred from any form of final judgment has proven an unforeseen setback to those in power. Lucifer thought that with the conception of the undying, Hell would have first claim to the souls of your kind – seeing as how most of you turn out to become blood-thirsty, amoral monsters."

"Takes one to know one."

She didn't even flinch in response to his baited remark.

"But, as you well know, neither Heaven nor Hell has access to those souls. No access means no final judgment – no paradise, no perdition."

"That doesn't sound like much of a problem from where I'm standing."

She rolled her eyes a little, muttering mostly to herself.

"Yes, well apparently it is."

Lilith fingered her necklace again, seemingly annoyed by this entire situation. Something akin to suspicion lightly scratched at the back of Vladislaus' mind, but not enough to cause any notably alarm.

"For you perhaps, and your petty war with God," he replied. "But I gave up your crusade against his omnipotence centuries ago. This has nothing to do with me," and he waved his hand in dismissal.

"But it has everything to do with you, Vladislaus," a familiar voice said from somewhere within the room. Though Dracula's eyes darted about trying to locate the source, Lilith remained stationary, an openly irritated expression on her face.

"I may have been sent to deliver a message to you," the demoness explained with thinly veiled reluctance, "but that does not necessarily imply that I am the actual messenger," and with a step to one side, it was revealed that Mariella was standing behind her.

Vladislaus could not believe his eyes. Bernardini's wife… she was alive after all?

No – not alive in corporeal form, he was quick to realize. But a spirit, an apparition. Though ghostly in appearance, Mariella was just as he remembered her – lovely tanned flesh, dark brown hair, and eyes the color of emeralds.

"It can't be…" he whispered with disbelief. "But you were killed. Augustine…"

"Yes, Marcus had me executed, but you know better than most the working of souls after death," Mariella said with a smile.

"But why are you here with the likes of her?"

"Don't worry. The witch's soul is not ours. We have her on loan," Lilith stated with open disappointment that time. This only spawned more questions in Dracula's mind, but he remained silent on the matter, pleased that his old friend, though departed, had found some semblance of peace.

"Why are you here?" he finally asked.

"Oh Vladislaus, I have so much to tell you," the witch began as she took a step forward but with the extending of Lilith's hand, she halted abruptly.

"Ah ah… not so fast. We discussed this. No touching."

Mariella sent the woman at her side a vicious look, but the queen of Hell merely simpered in response, all mischief and self-satisfaction.

"Come on witch, time is of the essence. Tick tock. Deliver your message and be done with it."

"What do you need to tell me, Mariella?" Dracula inquired with gentle earnestness, bringing the woman's attention back to him. With what appeared to be a heavy sigh, she began.

"I fear I was not entirely honest with you in life, old friend."

"That's not surprising. You always had your secrets," he said with a rueful sort of fondness.

"Yes, but there are a number of things I should have told you long ago, but I knew how you felt about my visions and prophecies in general, so I chose to keep silent. Please believe me when I say that I never kept any of this from you to cause harm. I chose to work in the shadows in the hopes that I could confirm what I had seen all those years ago and then things could happen naturally, as they should have."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"That night in Venice – in 1763 – do you remember?"

Dracula did not require further explanation to know which night she spoke of. It had been an evening that had haunted him for centuries since.

"The one that got away," he whispered, suddenly flooded with memories.

It had been so long since that fateful occurrence, and yet there were times when he found himself still dreaming of that mystery woman to this very day. He had never discovered the truth of her identity. He didn't even know if she was still alive, but the impression she had left him with had proved lasting. It was something he had never been able to understand, a mystery he could never unravel.

Why had she haunted him so, and how?

To what end?

His eyes were filled with questions and Mariella merely nodded her head in acknowledgement.

"That night in at Doge's Palace, in the sitting room when you recounted the events to Antón, I had discovered a single hair from the woman's head upon your cloak. I had hoped to use it to at least identify her for you, but upon examining the strand, I had a vision. The things I saw bewildered and frightened me at the time, and while I could not fully comprehend their meaning, I also could not shake the sensation that this mystery woman was of some great importance. For the next several decades, I struggled to track her down. I had nothing to go off of save what remained of the shriveled strand of her hair and her national origin."

"And you didn't tell me? But why? Did you find her?" With a single look from the apparition, he knew that she had. "Is she still alive? Who is she?"

Before the witch could speak, Lilith lifted her hand abruptly, putting an end to Mariella's speech as she stood from the seat she had taken on a nearby divan. The cloudy jewel mounted on her necklace seemed to catch the light in an odd way, but only for a moment too quick for Vladislaus to fully take note of.

"I think that's enough excitement for one day. Come witch. Time to go."

Though Mariella's tongue had been bound, the expression she sent the queen of Hell was one of outrage – as if her sudden forced silence had not been part of the plan.

"You can't leave yet," Dracula insisted. "Mariella, you must tell me the rest," but the witch's lips would not budge.

"Trust me, Vladislaus – you don't want to hear the rest of that story. You just said you don't care for being strung about like a marionette doll, so believe me when I say I'm doing both of us a favor here," Lilith insisted with a bit more force than was customary of her. She was trying to appear disinterested, but she seemed more fearful than anything else and it only served to deepen his curiosity.

"Mariella, please," he implored, making his way toward the witch. "I once told you of a dream I had – in 1830, when you were overseas. Of a dragon and a lion, of the woman from that masque haloed by a red sun, surrounded by four ravens. She was reaching for me, Mariella. For the last thirty-six years in hibernation, I have had that same dream over and over again. It can't be a coincidence. I know you know what it means. Tell me what it means," but before he could reach the witch, the demoness stepped between them.

"Vladislaus, you don't want this. It's just a silly prophecy that means nothing unless you let it. I know I was just teasing you about going rogue, but I beg you. Don't succumb now to the whim of fate. There are consequences the likes of which you cannot comprehend…"

But a strange sense of desperation had overcome him, as if his very soul could sense the unknown and all it held and he would not let some self-serving demon from Hell come between him and his destiny… not if it meant what his instincts were telling him it did.

"Get out of my way!" he exclaimed and with a violent shove, he sent Lilith careening across the room.

She crashed into the desk by the window, papers flying about as the table snapped upon impact, leaving her on the floor. Furious, she pushed herself to her feet with a growl, eyes flaming red as she glared in the direction of Dracula and the witch. Her rage quickly turned to panic, however, when she realized Mariella, tongue still bound, was reaching for him.

"Don't let her touch you!" she shouted, hand extended in protest, but it was too late.

With two fingers, Mariella touched Dracula's left pectoral, about two inches below the collarbone, and upon impact a light began to emanate from her fingers. The vampire grimaced as his flesh began to burn beneath her touch and he grabbed hold of her wrist to pry her hand away, but when he did so, a strange text appeared on Mariella's arm, the witch's eyes glowing a brilliant and blinding white.

She spoke no words, yet Dracula could hear her voice in his mind.

Yet it wasn't quite her voice.

The resonance was not entirely her own. It sounded deeper, maybe even a little darker, her words brimming with gravity.

The time will come when man shall fall and the dead will rule. The fallen dragon will seek his undying bride – a flame in a world of eternal darkness, a silent warrior guarded by four ravens, until in blind faith on a moonless night the dragon shall claim what is his. A father will be slain, a mother taken, a brother lost, a sister sacrificed. But on the dawning of a red sun shall they reign – the fallen bound, the lost restored. A new power shall rise in the darkness of the night and through her blood, the forsaken shall taste of the light.

While Dracula could understand the words she spoke with perfect clarity, there were obviously layers and layers of meaning which were entirely lost to him.

Was this the prophecy of which he had heard so many whispers about in the past two centuries?

What did it all mean?

There were so many questions, questions that needed answers, but with the ending of the utterance came an increase in pain where Mariella's fingers continued to reside. He looked down briefly to find the part of his shirt where she had touched had been torched and his skin bubbled and steamed as though a white-hot branding iron lay pressed against his flesh.

The agony only intensified, spreading through his being like a wave of fire until it became too much and darkness took him.

Dracula awoke in his bed some indiscernible time later, alone in his private chambers and with no sign that Lilith or Mariella had ever been there. Wondering if it had all been a dream, he made a move to sit up when he became aware of a dull ache on the left side of his chest.

Upon opening his shirt, he discovered a mark upon his flesh that had not been there before – it was small, perhaps two-to-three inches tall at most. It was that of a lion, standing on its hind legs, tail curled up, claws extended and mid-roar. Why it was there and what it meant he had no idea, but the discomfort of its presence appeared to dissipate the more he rubbed it.

Crawling out of bed, Dracula began to move about the room slowly, struggling to organize his thoughts.

"At last, you're awake," Lilith called out from a dark corner. He turned to find her situated in the shadows.

"Where's Mariella?"

"She was a naughty girl and was sent back to wherever it was she came from. I see she left you with a parting gift," and Lilith stood slowly.

"What does this mean?" Dracula asked her, motioning to the mark on his chest.

"She's branded you."

"Branded me? For what?"

"I guess we'll all find out soon enough," the queen of Hell said with a beleaguered sigh.

"What is going on?" he demanded, hoping the force in his voice would have her giving him a proper answer. A pity Lilith's charitable mood had all but dried up.

"The prophecy has been set in motion," was all she would say. "What has been done cannot be undone."

"Woman, I swear, if you don't give me something intelligible…" and Dracula began to stalk toward her, fully prepared to shake the truth out of her if he had to, but she was faster than he and she grabbed his oncoming hand and then used her other hand to take hold of his throat. With a grip that did not fit her slender form, she ruthlessly squeezed the column and dragged his face down to her level, forcing him to bend so she could look directly into his eyes.

"Breathe another threat and I will leave you to your fate without any further instructions."

"And what fate might that be?" he choked out through gritted teeth.

"What? The witch's words weren't plain enough for you?" She scoffed. "Men. Always more pretty than you are clever." Before he could retort, she continued. "In layman's terms: your throne is lost to you. You have no more allies in this place and if you don't leave by sundown tomorrow, not only will you never get your throne back, but Marcus will bleed you dry and then destroy what is left of your kind and there will be no Heaven or Hell to greet any of you. Only madness and an endless plain of gray mist."

He struggled to utter an oath of protestation, but she tightened her grip, crushing his trachea in warning, nails digging into his flesh. Any further arguments or bursts of outrage died before they could reach his tongue.

"The world you and I both know stands on a razor's edge. Every preternatural creation will continue to suffer under Augustine's boot heel until there are no more left to challenge him – and then he will move on toward the rest of humanity. Unless he is stopped."

Vladislaus managed to free a little bit of his throat so he could reply, "You know Marcus cannot be killed. I can try to subdue him, but only for so long. If his actions are such a threat, then why doesn't some higher being put an end to him? Why don't you? You're the one who created him in the first place."

"I cannot."

"Can't or won't?"

There was a flash of something in her eyes – something like uncertainty. It was a look he had never seen the queen of Hell wear before and he couldn't help the knot its sight suddenly left twisting in his gut.

"Can't," she said with some deliberation. "Not without great risk to myself."

Dracula finally pried Lilith's hand from his neck and he shoved her away, putting space between them. When his wounded throat had sealed sufficiently for him to speak with less of a gravelled rasp, he continued,

"You're not telling me something and I demand to know what it is."

"There's nothing more you need to know, Vladislaus. The pieces have been set and the game is now in motion. If you want to stop Augustine, you will need to find her."

"Would it kill you to not speak in riddles?"

"The prophecy, you fool! The dream of which you spoke did not return to you by some happenstance."

A strange wind began to move about the room, though the windows were closed and the doors sealed shut. The ground upon which Lilith stood started to burn and Dracula knew that his time with the demoness was coming to an end. But he still had so many questions, a list of things he could not even begin to understand.

"If Heaven nor Hell will help me in this matter, then what am I to do?" he asked her quickly.

"Search for the queen of the people. Only with her help can you ever hope of returning to your former glory. Only she can reinstate balance, only through her can Augustine be defeated. Her blood alone can restore to you what has been lost. But in order to find her, the man known as Dracula will need to die."

"I'll need to die? I'm already dead, you infuriating quim! Stop mocking me with your riddles!"

But Lilith only laughed at his confusion as the flames that had surrounded her feet set her entire person ablaze. She never did cry out in pain as the fire engulfed her. She merely smirked at him, a terrifying visage of ethereal beauty and fire and when she raised her hands above her head she vanished into thin air, the fires of Hell disappearing with her.

Dracula glared at the billows of smoke as they curled and expanded, their very existence taunting him. With a frustrated huff, he impatiently waved the vapor from his face, muttering an oath under his breath.

Search for the queen of the people?

Die in order to find her?

What did that even mean?!

The people had no queen. He had never married. He hadn't even taken on a formal consort – had never saw the need to.

In the whole of Dracula's unnaturally prolonged existence, he had only been formally wed twice, and both times had been when he was mortal, neither bride one of his choosing. Each had been politically motivated: the first set in place by his father before he had died, and the second as a result of being a political hostage. While he had never particularly disliked either of his wives in life, he had certainly never loved them, let alone chosen them.

It would appear that he was once more doomed to yet another union that was lacking in either party's true consent.

He grumbled another string of obscenities in his native tongue as he mulled his situation over in his mind.

In the long years between mortality and the present, he had been in hundreds – perhaps even thousands – of relationships. He had bedded countless concourses of women and men, but he had never felt the inclination to become married or "blood-bound" as it was referred to in the vampire world.

So what queen could Lilith possibly be referring to – outside of perhaps a self-proclaimed queen, an entitled pretender?

The only other option was Isabella – the queen of the werewolves, but surely that wasn't who the demoness had been referencing. The lycan race may have had prolonged life-spans, but they were not "undying" as the vampires were.

But there was a third option, one that a part of him resisted considering.

The mystery woman from Venice. The elusive "Léonide", as she had called herself.

Could it be?

But that would mean that she was in the city. Did she know about the prophecy?

That wasn't the only consideration on his mind. There was also that throwaway line from Lilith – only her blood can restore to you what has been lost. Was she referring to his impotence, his throne, his children? Or something else entirely? He had lost so much in the stolen centuries of his immortal existence. There was no way in heaven – or hell for that matter – that some ordinary woman could restore to him what he had lost even in the last four decades alone. No being in existence had that kind of power – not that he knew of, anyway.

Dracula found that he could not answer Lilith's first set of riddles with any degree of confidence. The remainder, however, began to make sense the more he pondered.

In order to find her, the man known as Dracula will need to die.

At first, the instructions had seemed absurd, meaningless even. Yet, upon recalling the warnings of Augustine's treachery he realized that perhaps this death of which Lilith spoke wasn't literal, but symbolic. It was clear he needed to leave the palace. With no allies and a half-brother determined to destroy everything he had spent several life-times building, the obvious choice was to flee the danger until he was better equipped to face it.

Thankfully, Levi had just uncovered Bernardini's whereabouts, and he was still in the city.

Evidently his first course of action was to disappear off Augustine's radar and then continue from there, but vanishing into thin air would not be an easy task.

As if on cue, there was a knock at his door and upon invitation, Baysia, the dhampir, reentered the room.

"Master, I have news from Levi."

"That will have to wait a moment," he interrupted, retreating from his place at the window as he quickly made his way over to her. "I need you to do something for me."

"Anything, my king."

"Send word through Levi that I plan to make contact with Bernardini within the next twelve hours. When he has delivered the message, I need him to locate a skin-changer for me – someone reliable. When that is done, you and Levi will need to go into hiding before Augustine comes looking for you."

"Why would he come looking for us?"

"He'll want to know where I am when he realizes he has the wrong Dracula."

Augustine let out a violet roar as he angrily flipped the table in front of him, tossing it across the room.

"How could you let this happen?" he shouted at those in attendance, the three individuals standing near the door of the dungeon trying to keep out of the way of their sovereign's present rampage. "We had him! We should have moved in on him the moment after his resurrection! Why did I listen to you idiots?"

"Marcus, you must calm down."

"Do not tell me to calm down, Sonya!" he barked. "You heard what she said," and he pointed to the desecrated remains of what had been Baysia.

Though her wrists were tied above her head, she had been bled completely dry and all signs of life had ceased to show within her. In Augustine's fury at the truth, he had disemboweled her, now only to regret his brashness.

"She told him everything she knew and because Bartos can't keep his bloody mouth shut when he's around a pretty face, Dracula is in the wind."

"Did we ever manage to track down Levi?" Ildar chimed in.

"Yes, but he had a UV capsule hidden in one of his molars. Was nothing but ash by the time we had a chance to interrogate him," Sonya explained.

"I still can't believe you couldn't tell the difference between a skin-changer and your own brother," Ildar continued, his comment, though perfectly valid, still earning him a dangerous look from Augustine. The man was one small nudge away from becoming completely unhinged.

"What does Elina have to say about all of this?" Sonya interjected, hoping the change of focus would ease the tension in the room.

"She claims that Vladislaus never reached out to her," Augustine said after several deep breaths. "Though I'm ready to interrogate the bitch anyway."

"It is against the covenant to interrogate a member of this council without support from the other members," Ildar reminded him. "And as much as you may dislike Elina, she forfeited her allegiances to Dracula decades ago. You know that. She is loyal to you and to this council. We are all loyal to you. This isn't our fault."

"If you are all supposedly loyal to me, Ildar, then explain to me how this catastrophe occurred in the first place! Explain to me why I have six quarts of useless blood and a dead skin-changer in the room next door!"

"I warned you that he could sniff out a lie a mile away. Something you said or did clearly made him suspicious. Stop taking out your frustrations on this council, Marcus. We are on your side!"

Augustine was in front of Ildar in the blink of an eye, hands out-stretched, fangs barred. He was fully prepared to tear the man to ribbons, but Sonya intervened before violence could break out.

"That is enough!" she shouted, pushing the two men apart. "We have enough to deal with as it is with the alliance and Dracula's disappearance. We don't need infighting as well."

As it often did, Sonya's rationality calmed the two men down, though Augustine was still fuming and Ildar remained visibly affronted that their leader had tried to pass the blame. But she was in the right, of course – they didn't have the luxury of squabbling amongst themselves. The implications of Dracula's untimely disappearance were far greater than the likes of Ildar could presently understand, and while she did not fully comprehend the unforeseen consequences herself, she knew Augustine did. His anger was evidence enough.

"What is our next move, Marcus?"

"Call the rest of the council together for an emergency meeting. We can still twist these… unfortunate circumstances in our favor if we act quickly."

RE: in regards to Dracula's characterization

Anonymous,

Firstly, I hope you know that I do appreciate the constructive criticism. And while I absolutely see where you're coming from with your concerns, there is a method behind my madness. I took a number of risks when writing this story - obviously not all of those risks are going to pan out or pay off for everyone and that's just something I get to live with. But thank you all the same for sharing your opinions (and for being respectful about it); I will absolutely be taking your points into consideration with any future projects/endeavors.

I should point out, though, that we're still technically only on chapter 3 (of 120 chapters in total, and that's not including the prologue and epilogue), so a lot of what you commented on will more than likely be addressed or resolved at a later time. But to touch on a few of your points to provide greater context:

1. Dracula's lapse in judgement with leaving Augustine in charge was an intentional creative decision. Considering the extent of his trauma after the loss of his children (that will get explored in greater depth later), in my mind it was justifiable. Was it still disappointing and even a little annoying? Sure, but still understandable, considering. This is the most "human" I've ever written him and he may be almost a thousand years old here, but even as a tactician and military man, he's not suddenly any less prone to mistakes or even manipulation. But I will concede that your criticism is absolutely valid.

2. Augustine may be cunning (and we saw that in chapter 1), but he is also arrogant to a fault (we'll see a LOT more of this later, too). He's already getting cocky, and he also hasn't had to play second fiddle to Dracula in nearly four decades… naturally he's not going to be used to wearing that mask of subservience again so soon. But based on your feedback, I could have handled that better, so I take ownership of that as well.

3. Dracula not flying into a rage is a personal preference here. I conscientiously chose to step away from that particular canonical "trait" of his for a wide variety of reasons (and I've already rambled on too long as it is), so to keep it simple – I hear you. But considering where he's been and where I intend for him to go in this story, I needed him far more emotionally grounded, mature, and in control than we usually see him. I could rant about the psychological implications behind certain human emotions for DAYS, but anger is often a mask for fear at best, deep-seated insecurity at worst – and that's just not what I needed or wanted for Dracula as a character, especially right now. He'll still get plenty mad/frustrated in later chapters (especially once he finds his footing as far as the narrative is concerned), but in that scene with Augustine, I needed him to keep his cool.

To conclude – I truly am grateful for the time you took to deliver such thoughtful feedback. Hopefully what I've provided above at least makes sense and even puts some of your concerns to rest. But if it doesn't, absolutely no hard feelings. I still appreciate your honesty regardless.

Wishing you nothing but the best.

P.S. It took them two (2) days to find Antón, not a single night.