Many thanks to Scarlet Empress, She-Devil Red, Riona Winters, RavenHuffle, Arwen17evenstar, and cneajna for reviewing over the weekend! So glad you guys enjoyed Jack as much as you did! We'll get more of him later on. But for now... here's that extra dose of Dracula I promised you to kickstart your week ;) ... and a certain development as well... BUT I'VE SAID TOO MUCH ALREADY! lol Enjoy!
Copyright © 2021 TSM. All rights reserved.
Chapter 9
Repercussions
Dracula was seated closest to the wall, half listening as Rémy recounted the evening's disappointments to the small band of revolutionaries all seated at the bar. Most of the regulars had left for home by now, the sun due to rise within the hour. Yet Vladislaus remained. It was a time-consuming business, earning the complete and utter trust of Rémy Chase, undisputed leader of the alliance; and while Dracula had no plans of dethroning the man from his present position of authority – at least for the present – it was certainly tedious playing the role of devoted follower.
Chase was presently going on about his meeting with a contact of one Aldrick Meino – proprietor of one of the hottest vampire nightclubs in the city, Scarlet. Meino was a man with certain connections that could prove valuable to their little ragtag group of rebels, but the thing was, it was damn near impossible for Rémy to get anywhere close to him. Aldrick had always been known for his uncanny ability to rub shoulders with absolute scum without even getting his hands dirty – which brought to Dracula's mind a certain traitorous half-brother of his.
But he had to give credit where credit was due. The extent of Marcus Augustine's corruptive hold on not only the city, but the entire state was far stronger than he ever could have anticipated. In the time Dracula had been in stasis, Marcus had managed to not only eradicate the majority of his original court, but he had also allied himself with the top crime syndicates in the city. It was Rémy's hope that if he could strip Augustine of at least some of those allies, it would weaken his hold.
While Dracula remained supportive of Chase's strategy in public, in private he had very little faith in it. For all of Rémy Chase's outward shows of pragmatism, Vladislaus was quick to note the hallmarks of an idealist buried deep within the man. He wanted things both ways – to socialize with filth without getting muddied in the process. Although Dracula supposed, now that he thought about it, perhaps it was less idealism and more of a certain naïveté. He had learned long ago that the company you keep has the power to either tarnish or purify, and even if associating with scum was for the greater good, it was impossible to come out untouched the other side. He supposed Rémy would only learn the same through personal experience.
He just hoped that the man wouldn't lose more friends and loved ones in the process as he had.
Vlad looked down at the remaining werewolf venom laced whiskey in his glass as his meandering thoughts found their way back to days long since passed – memories of a life forgotten when he had been as idealistic and naïve.
He had had a family, then – a wife and children.
Religion.
Hope.
Purpose.
A country and cause worth fighting for.
And like a naïve fool, he had lost it all. His own romanticism and faith had blinded him to the dangers that had surrounded him and it was on the battlefield he had been dealt the final betrayal.
Abandonment and isolation.
A familiar darkening of thought began to lightly claw at the back of his mind, but he banished it as quickly as it came before knocking back the rest of the venom-laced alcohol in his glass.
"I just don't know how we're going to win him over at this point," Rémy continued with a sigh.
"We'll think of something," Carmen assured him.
"She's right," Danny agreed. "Don't give up. He's just playing hard to get… you'll find an in. I know you will."
"Either way, we seem to be boring Leinhart," Rémy said teasingly. "You've hardly said anything since I got back."
"You're not boring me," Dracula insisted. "I'm just pondering. Danny may be right. It sounds like Aldrick is playing hard to get. If he didn't want anything to do with you, you'd know by now. He's stringing you along."
Danny smiled, pleased by the validation.
"You really think so?" Rémy asked as Dracula rose from his chair, preparing to leave.
"I do. It's a classic power play. He's testing you."
"Do you think he's trying to gauge how badly we want this?" Carmen asked.
"I'd say I want this alliance pretty damn bad," Rémy replied with a huff.
"True – and you continually bending over backwards to meet with his contacts and not with him directly is evidence of that," Vlad continued. "It makes you look desperate, a viable candidate for manipulation." The corner of his lips tugged just a hair in amusement. In another time, in another life, he had been known to use similar tactics to his advantage; made it easier to notice the signs.
"Seriously?"
Dracula only nodded.
"Rémy is anything but desperate," Carmen started, coming to the man's defense, but Chase waved her into silence as he turned to face Vlad fully.
"What do you think I should do, then?"
"What any good dominant does," he answered, giving way to his smile before he placed his payment for the drinks down onto the counter. "You make them come to you."
"And how do you propose I go about doing that, since you seem to be the expert?"
"For starters, don't be the one to reach out to him again. Wait for him to make contact," and he began to make his way toward the front door.
"And what if he doesn't?" Rémy called out.
"Then you take your business elsewhere. Aldrick Meino isn't the only individual in Budapest with the connections you need… you just have to remind him of that."
And with that, he bade them all good day and made his exit.
It was a relief, being able to leave that establishment at long last.
Not that he wasn't coming to enjoy the company of Rémy and his friends, but Dracula was genuinely starved of some much needed alone time – a chance to unwind and recharge before another grueling evening of working his way up in the ranks, as it were. So with eagerness in his step, he began the familiar walk to the metro station that would take him back to his flat on the other side of town.
He didn't get far, however, as Rémy came running out of the tavern not twenty seconds later, mobile phone in hand.
"Hey Vlad!"
Dracula grimaced a little before turning to look back at him, the sudden picture of patience and charm.
"Yes? What is it?"
"You haven't by chance seen Frankie out here, have you?"
"Your sister?"
"Yeah."
"No…" I would have noticed if that whirlwind of arrogance and sarcasm had come flying in on her broomstick. "I haven't seen her all evening."
"No, I know that. I mean just recently. She was supposed to be back by now and I can't seem to get a hold of her."
"I'm sure she's fine," he insisted over his shoulder, turning to leave as Rémy brought the phone back to his ear, talking to god knew who on the other end of the line. The conversation ended abruptly with the man swearing violently under his breath and a swift kick to a nearby lamppost.
Dracula knew he should have kept walking.
Don't get involved… you have enough on your plate as it is, the selfish side of his brain was already arguing. Just keep walking, go home, take a bath…
But the devil forgive him, he couldn't help himself.
Vlad turned around to look back at his new friend, but not before releasing a beleaguered sigh.
"What is it?" he called out to the man, as they were now some distance from each other.
"She's not with Lorenzo."
"Your sister?"
"Yeah… I just got off the phone him. He said she told him to drop her stuff back at the flat and then she just got out about two blocks from here."
"Rémy? What's going on?" he could hear Carmen shouting from inside the bar.
"Frankie's missing."
"What?"
"I'm sure she's fine," Dracula began, already resigning himself to being the only voice of reason here, but then he watched in sudden bewilderment as Rémy began to move out into the empty street, an expression of horror on his face as he looked beyond where Vlad was standing.
"Frankie? Oh my God… Frank?"
Dracula turned slowly to find Francesca Chase standing in the center of the road.
She was disheveled in appearance, her jacket half on as her wavy hair hung in front of her face, head sagged forward and shoulders drooped down as if she were carrying a heavy load. She appeared exhausted, like she could barely even manage to walk, let alone stand. Although several yards away from where he stood, Vlad could see that her skin had gone a ghastly pale shade, dark veins slowly becoming visible from beneath her flesh – particularly around her neck and chest.
Rémy had called out his sister's name once again just as Danny and Carmen exited from the bar.
Frankie's head lifted slightly in acknowledgement and it was in that moment that Dracula felt some inexplicable knot tighten in his stomach.
Something was amiss. What precisely, he couldn't be sure, but he could sense the danger surrounding the woman from where he stood, as though invisible tendrils of shadow and mist had encircled her - something nefariously dark.
He never had time to question what was happening.
A moment later, Carmen began to scream as Rémy shouted for Frankie to get out of the street. Dracula looked ahead to see a dark SUV barreling down the road headed straight for the woman and instinct kicked in before rational thought could make any objections.
In the blink of an eye, Vladislaus had materialized to the woman's side as the headlights of the speeding vehicle flooded his vision. Just as she began to fall to the ground, lashes fluttering as if she were losing consciousness, he caught her in his arms and turned his back to the roaring two-tons of steel, prepared to use his body as a shield to keep her from bearing the brunt of the oncoming hit. He braced himself for the impact, but it never came – only the sound of crunching metal and a vicious growl.
The stench of gasoline and burning rubber met his nose a half-second later.
Vlad turned to find a female vampire he did not recognize. She was standing between him and the SUV, hands gripping the front of the automobile as if it were raw dough, her legs positioned in such a way that suggested she had stopped the car with her bare hands. The woman had hair the color of fire, long straight strands of orange-red that set off the aqua color of her eyes when she turned, their gazes meeting.
"Get her out of here!" she barked at him, before returning her attention to the offending car. Her expression dared its driver to run her over and she tightened her grip on the front bumper with inhuman strength, keeping it from progressing.
The tires squealed in protest as the rubber spun angrily on the asphalt, smoke starting to rise in the air.
When Vlad didn't move right away as he had been told, the female actually snarled at him.
"Move your ass, motherfucker, or I'll move it for you!"
Put off by her abrasiveness, but not enough to chastise her for it given the circumstances, Dracula materialized to the other side of the road with Francesca still in his arms as Danny, Carmen, and Rémy joined the newcomer at the car.
"You picked the wrong street, Marx!" the woman shouted at the driver. "You were told what would happen if you came down here again."
"Fuck you, demon slut!" the one called Marx snapped back, slamming his foot down on the gas in an attempt to run her over. Carmen quickly joined the unidentified redhead to help her hold the vehicle in place as Danny and Rémy took either side of the car.
"Lyra Kennedy, you have impeccable timing," the Spaniard managed as she struggled to keep the SUV steady.
Lyra laughed.
"Just like old times, huh?"
A shot rang out in the early morning air as the windshield shattered and Lyra faltered just slightly as one of the bullets from Marx's gun buried itself in her shoulder.
The two women stumbled back for just a moment and Lyra swore.
"Rémy, why is this son of a bitch still alive?"
Dracula watched as Rémy grabbed hold of the driver's side door, making a move to tear it off its hinges when the barrage of bullets soon came flying in his direction and he ducked down before he could get hit.
"Working on it!"
"Work faster! I haven't got all morning!"
Danny tore the passenger side door from the vehicle and tossed it behind him as if it were an errant piece of wood, giving Rémy just the distraction he needed so he could reach into the car from the driver side window.
"You'll never take me alive!" Marx shouted as he struggled to hold onto his gun, but Rémy quickly disarmed him.
"Get out of the car, Marx!"
"My brother will avenge me!" the villain shouted, revealing a device in his left hand, his thumb resting just over the red button on top.
"The car's rigged to blow!" Danny shouted, diving away from the vehicle.
"Rémy!" Carmen screamed.
"Everybody get down!"
"For Augustine!"
Dracula, still with Frankie in his arms, turned his back to the vehicle once more just as the car exploded in a ball of fire. Several fragments of the shattered glass reached them on the sidewalk, but for the most part they were safe from the blast. When it was done, he turned to find the one called Marx reduced to little more than an ashy husk in the front seat of what remained of the car, whereas Rémy, Danny, Carmen, and Lyra were all strewn about in the street, battered from the debris, but otherwise alive.
Lyra was the first one to her feet as the others struggled to stand, her eyes searching frantically.
"Where's Frankie?" she asked.
All eyes quickly located Vlad on the sidewalk, everyone openly surprised that it was he of all people that had come to the woman's rescue.
In order to discourage the growing tension, Dracula called out to her brother.
"Her ears appear to be bleeding and she isn't healing herself."
"She can't," Rémy explained as he brushed the glass off of his clothes, quickly making his way over.
"Make sure you don't get her blood on your skin!" Carmen instructed. Vlad couldn't even begin to understand why the Spaniard would say something like that, but he obeyed.
Rémy examined his sister quickly, a look of dread in his eyes that Vlad had never seen before and it only deepened his curiosity.
Francesca was wheezing quietly, breath catching occasionally as if each inhale were restricted by something. Her skin was now a sickly grey, almost translucent, a maze of dark purple veins rapidly becoming more visible with every passing second.
"Frankie? Frankie, can you hear me?"
The woman began to mutter incoherently, head lightly bobbing as if she was struggling to stay conscious.
"Rémy, we need to get her inside," Danny said, glancing warily about them.
Dawn was fast approaching, and the commotion of earlier had started to attract a few curious gazes from some of the neighboring windows.
"Do we have time to get her back to the apartment? All the supplies are there. We may be able to stop it," Rémy asked.
"There's no time for that. She looks like she hasn't fed in weeks and she's fading much too quickly," Lyra interjected.
"I may have a bit of the serum left over from a few years ago… but it's old. It might not even work," Carmen added.
"It'll have to do," and Lyra moved forward to lift Frankie out of Vlad's hold when he suddenly pulled the delirious woman in his arms closer to his body, instinctually emitting a low, territorial growl.
The reaction took everyone by surprise, himself included. He had no reason to care if this Lyra took Francesca from him… or did he?
Where was this bewildering sense of protectiveness coming from?
He didn't have time to answer to even ponder the question. Everyone was looking at him, so in order to save face, he quickly spoke up, changing the focus back to Miss Chase.
"It would be best if we just got her inside," and he started to head in the direction of The Harpy, purposefully avoiding eye contact with the others. His movement seemed to snap everyone back into the present.
Rémy was soon barking orders as Carmen led Vlad into the bar.
"Follow me. We'll have to do this in the kitchen."
"Danny, I need you to run upstairs and see if you can find the black bag."
"Carmen do you know where that is?"
"I'll get it. I don't need you tearing my bedroom apart."
"Fine – then Danny, I need you to hunt down some latex gloves and a couple of bags of blood."
"You know I don't keep that cloned garbage in my bar! He's going to have to head over to the clinic to get some."
"But they're closed!"
"I don't care! Break in and steal some. If you don't we're all seriously screwed!" Rémy shouted and Danny was gone in the blink of an eye.
"She needs a vein, Rémy – not that artificial shit," Lyra insisted, rushing ahead and into the kitchen so she could lay down a sheet of thick plastic over the island counter.
"It's all she can keep down right now. Carmen, where is the fucking bag?!"
Carmen shouted something in Spanish from upstairs and Rémy merely rolled his eyes.
"Lyra, I'm going to need your help in holding her down so she doesn't hurt herself…"
"You mean so she doesn't hurt any of us."
"Either way, this isn't going to be pretty."
"It never is," the woman replied.
As soon as they entered the kitchen and Vlad had placed Frankie down on the island, he was promptly shoved out of the way.
The moment that physical distance had been created, however, the woman began to writhe about as if in protest, as if the sudden separation had flipped a switch in her, leaving her now to struggle alone against something crushing down on her... within her. He watched in equal parts horror and fascination as one of her hands reached helplessly in his direction, even with her eyes closed, fingers flexing, until both hands dashed for her own throat. Soon she was clawing at her neck and chest, nails leaving angry flushed scratches across her flesh, as if this unseen thing within her had begun to struggle for control over her body, trying to get out even as she desperately fought to hold it in.
Amidst all of the commotion, no one seemed to notice that Vesper had appeared, standing by the door in silence as she watched the scene unfold. Dracula was the only one who realized the girl was present and the two looked at one another for just a moment with equally questioning expressions before Danny burst into the room.
He rapidly distributed latex gloves and plastic aprons to Rémy, Carmen, and Lyra. Vlad took another step back to keep out of the way, and whether it was that extra distance or something else entirely, regardless, Frankie's convulsions worsened.
"Come on, Frankie… hold it in. Hold it in just a little longer…" Rémy pleaded as he made a small cut in the front of her dress, right down the middle so the space between her breasts was exposed. "Carmen, where's the serum?"
"On the counter in the bag."
"Lyra, keep her hands down. Carmen, I want you on one leg; Danny, on the other!" and he dumped the contents of the bag out, quickly snatching a small, cylindrical vial and a ghastly long needle. He started to prep the syringe.
"What's wrong with Frankie?" Vesper suddenly spoke up. All eyes turned to the teenager and Rémy quickly shouted.
"Vesper, get out of here!"
"But is she all right? What's wrong? What's happening?" she persisted, voice beginning to tremble with concern as Frankie's condition grew more dire by the second.
"Vesper, NOW!"
But the teenager didn't move. She only continued to stand there, frozen in place as her eyes began to well with tears.
Dracula, meanwhile, hadn't been able to wrest his gaze away from the scene – Francesca in particular.
Her eyes were now burning like violet beacons, occasionally flickering red as her fit worsened. She had begun to mumble strange incoherencies in what sounded like French, her voice rapidly growing louder and louder until she was almost screaming. The wails made it seem as though she was enduring some horrid torture, the woman pleading for mercy. It sent a violent chill down his spine.
"VESPER, GET OUT!" Rémy barked. Carmen went to go to the girl, but he shouted at her. "NO! I need you to stay here!"
Frankie's screams had now transformed into something dark and unintelligible, a language Dracula could not make out. She looked almost possessed, shaking and shouting and sobbing as the whites of her eyes began to turn black, her irises now glowing red, burning like embers... like hellfire.
"Goddamn it, Rémy, is that stupid serum ready yet?" Lyra snapped.
"Got it!" he exclaimed, the syringe filled at last and he made his way over to his sister before looking up at Vlad, realizing he was still here. "Leinhart, get Vesper out of here!"
Although unaccustomed to being ordered about, Dracula ignored his irrational desire to stay and obeyed in spite of himself. As Rémy instructed the others to hold his sister steady so he could insert the needle into her chest where her heart was, Dracula had very calmly grabbed Vesper by the upper arms, lifting the petite teenager off the ground before steering her out of the kitchen and down the hall into the main room of the bar just as the door was slammed shut behind them.
By this point, the girl had taken to openly weeping as the chaos in the other room continued.
Unwilling to put up with the dhampir's growing hysterics, he snapped his fingers harshly in front of her face and commanded her to be silent and look at him. His directive was obeyed as Vesper cries ceased instantaneously, though she held his gaze even with the tears still tumbling down her cheeks. Sighing in relief and grateful for her newfound reticence, he turned his attention briefly back to the kitchen, unable to suppress the concern that was tightening in his chest.
What was wrong with Francesca? And, more importantly, why the hell did he care?
Vesper's sniffling distracted him and he took the girl's chin in his hand, lifting her gaze.
"Cover your ears," he commanded her in his native tongue, voice low and conscientiously soothing. "Cover your ears and close your eyes. It'll be over soon." While he wasn't entirely sure at first if she had understood his instructions, it was clear from the look in her eyes that some part of her comprehended his meaning. Vesper stepped forward and quickly buried her face into the lower part of his chest like a lost child. Although taken aback by her reaction to him, he did not push her away. He did, however, continue to keep his eyes on the kitchen door.
The sound of Francesca's sobbing sent every hair on the back of his nape to stand on end, an instinctive kind of protectiveness washing over him as her muffled cries broke through the early morning air. This felt wrong. Being separated from her felt intrinsically and inexplicably wrong. But why? Where did such feelings come from? What was even happening back there?
He wanted answers.
Instead, the only thing at his present disposal was a teenage dhampir silently weeping into his shirt.
Without even meaning to, he found himself wrapping his arms around her, offering her his strength, his steadiness. But some unconscious part of him couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he was the one who needed her strength in that moment, just as she needed his.
What a queer turn of events.
"Do it now! Stick it in her now!" he heard Lyra shout from within.
"I can't get a clear shot at her heart! Hold her still or I'll break the needle on a rib!"
"Just do it! If you wait a second longer, we're fucked!"
"Do it, Rémy," Carmen urged, her voice steady in spite of the fear layered beneath.
Mere seconds later, there was a loud exploding sound that erupted from within the kitchen and then everything went still.
The abrupt quiet proved unnerving as Vlad and Vesper both waited expectantly in the front room, attention fixed on the still sealed kitchen. Dracula waited a couple of generous seconds before finally moving, releasing the teenager from his hold as his feet instinctually carried him to the back room before he had even made the conscious decision to do so.
When he opened the door, he found Francesca Chase lying motionless on the island counter, her brother and friends all sprawled out on the floor as if they had been violently beaten down. There was groaning all around, save from the woman in the center of the room. She appeared to be out cold.
Carmen was the closest to the hall, and when she noticed Vesper hiding in Vlad's shadow, she reached for the girl with an extended hand.
"Vesper, sweetheart…" she called from the ground, trying to sit up as she leaned against a cabinet.
The teenager slipped past him and fell into the woman's arms.
Rémy had rolled over onto his back before attempting to sit up as well, wincing as he snapped a few ribs back into place so they'd have an easier time healing.
Lyra, once again, was the first one on her feet.
"What happened?" Dracula asked as Rémy struggled to stand.
The man either didn't hear his question or decided not to answer because his attention was immediately fixed on his unconscious sister. Her flesh was no longer sickly in color and the blood from her ears had vanished.
Vlad watched as Lyra gently caressed Frankie's face.
"How is she?" Rémy asked the redheaded woman, sounding concerned.
"She's alright. She really needs to feed, though."
"Danny, where's that blood I asked you to get?"
"There's a couple of packs on the counter."
"Lyra, you don't mind sticking around for a bit, do you?"
"You know I don't mind," was her answer, the female still affectionately stroking the brunette woman's cheek with the back of her fingers.
Rémy then turned to look at Carmen and Danny.
"Thanks you two. You may want to get something to drink. Vesper, shouldn't you be in bed?"
Carmen nodded in agreement before steering Vesper out of the room with her arm.
"But I don't want to go to bed!" the girl was already protesting. "I want to stay!"
"Frankie needs some rest, love. And so do you."
"But I want to stay!"
Carmen left the kitchen with the headstrong dhampir in tow, Danny following close behind. Dracula, meanwhile, continued to linger near the doorway, waiting for an answer to his previous question.
"Rémy, what – " he began once more, but he was cut off.
"Thank you for taking care of Vesper."
"You're welcome, but I…"
"Not now, Leinhart!" he suddenly snapped, taking those still present by surprise, his majesty most of all. "I'm sorry," the man said after a deep breath. "But now is not the time."
Dracula felt a chill move through his body as an old and familiar feeling of impatience bubbled toward the surface. The impertinence he had to deal with! It took every ounce of control he possessed to keep himself in check, maintaining that façade of acquiescence. After all, he was quick to remind himself, he was not their king in this instance. In their minds, they owed him no loyalty and no explanations.
There was no Vladislaus Drăculea here – only Vlad Leinhart; and as far as everyone else was concerned, Leinhart wasn't owed anything, least of all an explanation.
And yet, despite that fact, the curiosity in Dracula only continued to fester. He was about to take a step forward so he could alter his strategy a bit, when a soft murmur caught his attention and he paused.
Miss Chase had stirred on the island counter, moaning softly.
That sound – though innocent enough – sent something delicious curling down his spine, coiling in his pelvis before sending a barely discernible tremor between his hips.
"No, Francesca – stay still. Your body is still healing," Lyra spoke in French.
"Lyra, is that you?" Frankie murmured.
"Yes, my beloved sister. It is me."
"Where the hell have you been?" she teased weakly and Lyra smirked, her gaze brimming with affection.
"A thousand apologies, my queen."
Frankie's brow furrowed in disapproval, though her eyes remained closed.
"You call me that again and I'll slap you."
Lyra chuckled at the threat.
"I'm pleased to see your humor is still intact, sweetie."
That previously pleasurable sensation was now shifted, twisting uncomfortably inside of Dracula, tightening almost painfully in his chest as he witnessed the exchange between the two females. He was finding himself feeling inexplicably envious of this strange redheaded woman, of the regard, the intimacy she so clearly shared with Rémy's sister.
Wait.
What?
Where did that come from?
He wasn't supposed to be jealous… and he wasn't, he assured himself immediately. He wasn't jealous or protective. He had no reason to be. After all, Francesca belonged to him.
Wait.
She what?
Francesca Chase wasn't his. He wasn't even remotely interested in her! Their first and only encounter had seen to that!
Besides, the female had an off-putting superiority complex, with her arrogance and inexcusable temper… but she was so alluring – shrouded in mystery.
Dracula's head felt like it had begun to spin. What had come over him?
"Where is Rémy?" Frankie inquired gently, still speaking in French.
"I'm right here," Rémy said, taking his sister's hand in his.
"What happened?"
Lyra and Rémy both looked in the direction of Leinhart, their expressions clearly telling him to leave the room.
He refused to comply at first – partly out of pride, but another part of him proved profoundly confused by the thoughts and feelings that had taken to swimming about in his head. The woman mesmerized him all of a sudden – even if he could barely boast an acquaintance with her. In fact, the previously unremarkable female was suddenly… magnetizing; to the point where he couldn't seem to bring himself to look away.
For the first time in their brief association, Dracula was seeing Miss Francesca Chase in a whole new light.
He couldn't quite articulate what it was, but there was something about the woman that he liked immensely. Although her presently pale flesh was a result of being underfed – and the reasons explaining why she would be thus remained unknown to him – her skin was otherwise smooth and unblemished, supple… enticing, even; stretching over delectable curves and beautifully toned muscle. Dare he admit it – she looked rather tempting, the front of her dress slightly torn down the front, cleavage exposed as she lied there in the center of the kitchen. He then caught a glimpse of the lace bra she was wearing beneath that dress and his intrigue intensified.
He actually started to consider moving closer to her to get a better look, but before he could even act, Lyra draped her jacket over Frankie's body in an effort to keep her decent and a twinge of disappointment twisted his insides.
And then his better judgment made a return.
It was like the incessant beeping of an alarm clock – always going off when what he really wanted was to snooze and dream for just a little longer.
It had been so long since he had last been able to enjoy the sight of a beautiful woman, since he had felt the familiar tingle of need in his loins…
And when that thought floated across his conscious mind, everything skidded to an abrupt halt when he recalled – Lilith's curse.
Having been unable to act on his baser instincts for decades now, before his hibernation, Dracula had trained himself to ignore the beauty and appeal of the opposite sex in an effort to save himself from the inevitable mortification of not being able to "get it up" when the time became appropriate. So why, with all of his supposed self-mastery, was he so effortlessly falling prey to a woman he was certain didn't even like him? Hell, he wasn't even sure he liked her – their first impressions of each other having been what they were.
But Dracula's ponderings were interrupted as Rémy tactfully asked him to leave the room.
Evidently, his majesty would have seek answers at a later time.
For now, he was at present so baffled by his own reaction to the woman and alarmed by the ease he felt in openly admiring her – it was fear and not submission that had him retreating from that room. He didn't even stop at the bar to sit with Danny who had just offered him a drink. Instead, he turned down the hall and headed straight for the exit, outside into the back alleyway. He slammed the door shut behind him, gasping for the useless air as if he had been suffocating. His eyes were wide and full of disbelief as he struggled to get a hold over himself.
This wasn't happening.
It couldn't be!
Dracula pressed his brow against the steel-enforced entrance, hands on either side of the frame. He could physically feel the space between himself and Francesca and his very soul now ached at the distance.
He wanted to be close to her, but why? They barely knew each other!
A thought emerged from the deep recesses of his subconscious and the mere suggestion of what these feelings could mean was enough to send a tremor through his body.
Frankie wasn't his foretold undying bride, was she?
The masked woman from Venice?
Lilith's prophesied queen of the people?
"No," he protested aloud to the rising sun, and he hit his head against the door as if to banish the thought. "No… that can't be her."
Lyra had helped Frankie up into a sitting position on the counter as Rémy handed his sister one of the medical bags of blood Danny had fetched earlier. She nursed the open conduit of the pouch in silence for a minute or two, still incredibly weak, leaving her voice far softer than it normally was which made it a struggle for those even with vampiric senses to hear her.
"What is Leinhart doing here?" she asked at last. Her brother shut the kitchen door so they could have some privacy.
"He's gone for the time being," he assured her, patting her leg casually, "though you're gonna have to be a lot nicer to the man. He just saved your ass."
Frankie cringed a little and Lyra, not fully understanding the history, sent Rémy a questioning look.
"They haven't exactly hit it off," he began, but paused when Frankie tried to slide off the counter. "Woah, where do you think you're going?"
"I need to stand – my body isn't going to heal properly if I remain sedentary," Frankie insisted, though when her feet touched the floor, her knees gave out and both her brother and Lyra had to help pull her up.
"Don't run before you can crawl, Frank," but she refused to listen.
After finishing off the blood bag in her hand, she discarded it on the counter before gripping the edge of the island, taking deep, deliberate breaths as she tried to soothe the nausea creeping up in her stomach, the traumatic experiences of the past struggling to bubble to the surface. She held out her hand.
"Give me another bag."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm still sorting through Jack's memories – it's distracting me… kind of."
"No nausea?"
"Oh, it's there like an insidious black pit, but it hasn't gotten any footing yet… quick…" and she held out her hand.
Rémy obeyed, placing another transfusion pouch into her open palm and both he and Lyra watched as Frankie fed in silence, color slowly appearing in her cheeks. As her strength gradually began to return, her mind grew quieter, granting her the opportunity to take in her surroundings.
The entire room was in shambles and there was a nice crack in the door where someone's body had hit it.
"Was it really that bad?" she asked, and her brother and best friend both nodded.
"Unfortunately, yes – although it could have been a whole lot worse. Carmen luckily had some of the serum left over from the last time, but that was the last of it. Before you do your next interview, I'm going to need to make more until you get your full strength back," Rémy explained.
"Sounds like a plan – though it looks like I'll be paying Carmen for damages… again."
"I wouldn't worry too much about her. I think you're going to owe Vesper a great deal more."
Frankie sent her brother a bewildered look.
"You let her watch?"
"I didn't let her watch," he defended, almost sounding insulted. "Leinhart took her out of the room just before the grand finale."
"Leinhart again! Sweet Lord, was the man present for the entire thing?"
"Actually…"
"Rémy, whatever happened to keeping my issues between just us? I don't need everyone knowing – the wrong people could find out, and…"
"We can trust Leinhart, okay? And in my defense, I didn't invite him. He just happened to be in the right place at the right time. If he hadn't caught you, that car would have…"
Lyra finally decided to intervene, sensing Frankie's growing frustration.
"Sweetie, save your strength." When Frankie consented to silence, finishing off the remaining blood in the second pouch, Lyra turned her focus completely on Rémy. "Besides, it's my turn to chew him out. Honestly, Rémy, what in Christ's name is wrong with you? I cannot believe you didn't go with her to that interview! You knew it had been years since she had done one like this! And I know you have not forgotten what happened when she interviewed that council member a decade ago! This situation was ten times greater than that! How could you be so thoughtless, letting her go alone, without serum as a back-up… and starving, no less? This entire situation could have been prevented…"
"Now wait a minute, I did send someone to go with her."
"Lorenzo doesn't fucking count!"
"Lyra, lower your voice," Frankie muttered, but she went unheard.
"But she wouldn't have let me go with her even if I had offered! You know how bullheaded she is!" her brother defended.
"I'm still here."
"That is no excuse," Lyra continued, so irate, she had moved forward just so she could get in the man's face. "Can you imagine what would have happened if she hadn't gotten here in time, if she had had that episode in the street? Someone could have gotten hurt, or worse, the council would have found her and she'd be in the hands of that… that sadistic tyrant, Augustine!"
"You think I don't already know that?" Rémy snapped.
"Clearly it slipped your mind!"
"I know how to look after my sister, Lyra! I don't need your help!"
"Your carelessness isn't my only problem. The fact that you actually talked her into doing these interviews in the first place! The Dracul Sânge! Have you lost your mind?! They're Dracula's bloody heirs! What are you trying to do? Fuck her up more than she already is?"
"Gee. Thanks," Frankie muttered.
"No offense, sweetie, but you've been through more shit than any shrink can handle."
"Love you, too, connasse," came the sarcastic response.
"I'm not trying to fuck her up, I'm trying to get her to accept her destiny! The more she rebels against it, the worse things get! Or have you not figured that out by now?" Rémy continued.
"It is her life, not yours! If she wants to live a certain way, let her! You shouldn't force the prophecy on her!"
"I will NOT live through another Tristan experience, Lyra!" Rémy shot, so angry he had started to tremble a little. "You have no idea what I had to endure with the mess that followed! First my sister gets her heart broken and just when she starts getting better, my aunt gets murdered, my best friend gets killed in the crossfire, the wolves break off their alliance with us, and I'm left to pick up the pieces by myself – all because of your fucking encouragement to defy the inevitable!"
"I don't need a fucking play by play. I was there, too, you know!"
"Not after shit hit the fan! Not when it actually fucking mattered! Besides, that doesn't change the fact that you knew how that relationship would end – that it would end just like all of the ones before it. You know as well as I do how that goes. They find out who she is destined for and they go running for the hills." Lyra scoffed but didn't deny his assertions. "Face it, Kennedy. Frankie will be with Dracula, and there is nothing she or you or I can do about it!"
"Then let that be her decision! You don't have to force it on her like some goddamn pimp!"
"I'm not forcing anything on her! This assignment is good for her! She needs it!"
"She needs it? She doesn't need another episode like this, Rémy! She doesn't need the memories of some bastard's adopted kids! She has enough shit on her plate already!"
"That is so like you! Just blow the WHOLE thing out of proportion!"
"Are you sure she's the one that needs this? Or is it you that needs an alliance with the Dracul Sânge?"
"Oh, Christ, don't you pull that on me too!"
"Why else would you do it?"
"I didn't do anything! They were the ones that wanted to meet with her! All I did was set it up!"
"And you accuse me of meddling?"
"You do! You encourage her rebellion! And all it does is cause her more grief!"
"Tristan bowing out of the relationship, let alone Cece and Derek's deaths, were not my fault!"
"Well it pretty much could have been!"
"Would you two just stop?" Frankie intervened, sounding almost desperate. Lyra and Rémy stopped talking, but both of them continued to glare daggers at one another, knowing their conversation was far from over. "I didn't ask for your help – either of you. Tristan and I broke things off civilly. It was a mutual decision. I still hate that we even had to make that choice in the first place, but it's done and it was done for the best. And if anyone is going to take the blame for Aunt Cece and Derek, it's going to be me and that's all there is to it."
"Francesca," Lyra began, but Frankie held up her hand.
"I said no more," she shot, though it took some effort to do so. She didn't need more arguing – she had had her fill of fighting. "Where is Vesper?"
"Carmen took her upstairs to put her to bed," Lyra answered in a flat tone, since Rémy was standing to the side, a sour look on his face.
"I need to see her," Frankie insisted, attempting to stand on her own without the assistance of the counter.
"You're not going anywhere," Lyra replied, placing her hand on Frankie's arm to keep her from getting too far. "You need your rest."
"I need to explain to Vesper what happened so she doesn't get worried."
"You can do it later."
"No, I need to do it now. She will be nothing but trouble until she is calmed down and Carmen has enough to deal with."
As if on cue, the sound of running feet could be heard from the hall and within moments, a very unhappy and flush-cheeked teenage girl appeared in the door way of the kitchen, Carmen soon emerging behind her. Vesper's eyes were bloodshot from crying, streaks of tears staining her cheeks. Frankie held out her hand, reaching for the dhampir and she came at once.
Leaning against the counter so she could continue to stand on her own, Frankie held Vesper close, weakly rubbing her back in an effort to soothe her
"Oh Frankie," Vesper cried, "I'm so glad you're ok."
"Me too, sweetie."
"Vesper, darling, come away; she's tired," Carmen encouraged, but Vesper squeezed Frankie's hand, her eyes pleading. To Frankie, Vesper was rarely to be refused. Touched by her sincere concern and keenness to be near, the woman squeezed the teenager's hand in return. "Frank, we can put you in my room until we get the spare one squared away," Carmen offered.
"No, don't bother."
"Really, I insist. And Vesper, you need to get to bed."
"Can Frankie stay in my room?" Vesper offered, a hopeful look in her eyes. Carmen and Frankie exchanged looks.
"Sweetheart, you don't have to do that," Frankie began.
"Besides, she needs her rest and you know she can't sleep with the lights on," Carmen added with a slight smile.
"But I'll turn the lights down!" Vesper promised. Carmen just laughed at the idea, noting the look of defeat in Frankie's expression.
"You know too well you won't get any rest in there," she replied.
"Some peace and quiet will suffice for now. I'm still trying to sort through all these memories anyway," was her answer as she extended her arm to her brother, silently asking him to help her up the stairs. Rémy was at her side in an instant, wrapping her arm around his shoulders, his other arm around her waist to keep her upright and he led her out of the room.
"We're still not done talking, Rémy," Lyra called out to him as he left the kitchen. He never bothered to turn around to look back at her, but he did grumble something obscene under his breath.
"I can't wait."
The Chase siblings made their way up the stairs and past several doors before they reached Vesper's bedroom. Frankie then laid down on the bed only to smile in amusement as Vesper joined her, sandwiched between the woman and the wall.
Rémy watched as Frankie's eyes closed, her arms wrapping around the girl and holding her close in a protective manner. Moved by the scene and unwilling to disturb it, he said nothing; only kissed his sister's brow and then he departed, the heavy drapes and thick blinds closing automatically just before the sun could hit the glass.
When Rémy was finally gone, Vesper spoke.
"Frankie?"
"Hmm?"
"What happened?"
She didn't answer at first, not because she didn't know what to say, but because she had to decide how to explain something so complex and delicate and then translate it into plain speech.
"I didn't prepare as much as I should have. I wasn't ready," she whispered gently, her eyes still closed.
"What do you mean?"
"Remember when I explained to you that thing that I do at the end of important interviews?"
"You absorb people's memories."
"Yes. Well, I interviewed a gentleman last night. His memories were… I just wasn't ready for them."
"He had a sad life, didn't he?"
"What makes you say that?"
"Your eyes got dark and you were crying. It kind of freaked me out… I haven't seen you like that before."
"I was scared, too. But it's over now."
…
"Frankie?"
"Yes dear?"
"What is it like?"
"What is what like?"
"Having other people's memories?"
Frankie paused for a moment. She had never really understood this gift she had and it had been a part of her for so long now, she could hardly remember a time it hadn't been. She must have been silent for a while because Vesper eventually repeated her question.
"I was thinking," she assured her. "I don't really know how to explain it. It's hard at first, especially when I absorb the memories of older vampires. The older they are, the more difficult it is, I suppose. So much sadness and loneliness – so many emotions, it's a challenge to handle, especially when I haven't fed properly in a long time."
"What does it feel like?"
"Usually the weight of the memories passes within a few hours or so, but his… his are different."
"What do you mean?'
Frankie thought back to her interview with Jack Belinskaya. His memories were still a bit of a jumbled mess inside her brain – like a jigsaw puzzle that she was still struggling to piece together. And then there was that shadow in her mind – the blurred man who she assumed was Dracula, though she couldn't understand why his face and voice were distorted, clarity eluding her. The rest of Jack's memories were becoming flashes of pictures, scenes, and experiences, all coupled with very heavy and tangible emotions.
"Frankie, are you still awake?"
"Yes, sweetheart. But I'm exhausted."
"Should I stop asking questions?"
"That would be nice," she sighed, a small smile curving the corner of her lips.
"Frankie?"
This time she laughed. "Yes, Vesper?"
"Were his memories too much for you?"
"Nothing is too much for me."
"But Carmen said…"
"Vesper, look at me." Vesper lifted her head from Frankie's shoulder so she could look obediently into the woman's eyes, nothing but the utmost trust in her expression. "The man's memories were a lot for me. It was something I had not properly prepared myself for. But I can promise you, what happened tonight will not happen again." The woman could see the remnants of doubt and concern in the young dhampir's expression, but that trust was still there. "I know you were scared, and that is perfectly normal. I was frightened as well. But I know what to prepare myself for now. And I promise you, it won't happen again."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." Frankie gently caressed Vesper's cheek and smiled. "You have nothing to fear," she whispered.
She paused for a moment, studying the look in Vesper's eyes when it dawned on her – it wasn't the episode that had frightened her – it was the thought of Frankie leaving again. The last time something had happened that Frankie couldn't "handle," she had disappeared for half a decade. The woman held the girl a little tighter to her.
"I won't ever leave you like that again, sweetheart. I promise."
So Dracula's is in denial. Not too much of a surprise there. I wonder how much longer will he be able to maintain that denial? ;) Any guesses? I'll give you a hint - it's not much longer, although the real question, then, becomes "how long will it take Frankie to figure it out"? Hmmm... WE SHALL SEE!
Thank you everyone for stopping by to check out the latest installment. Next chapter will go up on Friday, pending any unforeseen disasters. In the meantime, let me know what you thought? If you haven't checked in yet or for a while, I'd love to hear from you!