Thank you to Scarlet Empress, She-Devil Red, Arwen17evenstar, Riona Winters, cneajna, and RavenHuffle for the reviews this week! I loved reading everyone's reactions and watching you all engage with the story and connect with the characters. It's honestly such a joy to get those notifications in my inbox, and I'm learning a lot about what resonates with folks and what doesn't (which I'm already logging away for future writing projects) - so seriously, thank you for taking the time to send me your thoughts!
This chapter is definitely on the shorter side in comparison to the last one, but don't worry... Monday's update will more than make up for that - and in more ways than one ;) But for now - ENJOY!
Oh! Before I forget, a friendly PSA:
Because I know there's a lot of moving parts to this story and missing some of the more subtle details is inevitable on a first read (zero judgment, by the way) - I wanted to call out that Dracula is able to successfully maintain his façade/walk around anonymously because he's wearing a concealment charm or enchanted pendant, which was first noted near the end of chapter 5. We'll get into some of the nuances of that magical gift from Mariella and it's limitations later down the road, but his wearing it is why 1) literally no one recognizes him (even though he's the most famous vampire in history) and 2) why his face was obscured in Jack's memories when Frankie absorbed them a couple of chapters back.
I'm trying my best to reveal things gradually vs. exposition dumping all over the place, so if you run into questions, don't hesitate to ask (and if the answer enters into spoiler territory, I'll be sure to let you know). I really do appreciate all the engagement and support from you guys!
All right, for real this time - ENJOY THE CHAPTER! :)
Copyright © 2021 TSM. All rights reserved.
Chapter 10
Let's Talk About Frankie
"Who do you think you are, controlling her life like this?"
"I'm not controlling anything or anyone. For pity's sake, Lyra, we've been at this for hours now. Would it kill you to just drop it already?"
Frankie could still hear them talking through the floor of Vesper's bedroom, the aforementioned teenager having fallen asleep ages ago, curled up comfortably at Frankie's side. She was still tenderly running her fingers through the girl's mess of mousy-brown curls, though it was more absentmindedly than anything else now. She was far too engrossed in the conversation still taking place downstairs. After the chaos of the morning had subsided and the general mess cleaned up, her brother and best friend had immediately resumed their shouting match and from the sound of things, Lyra Kennedy was on another one of her crusades.
"Oh, I am nowhere near done with you yet!" the woman had snapped.
It was easy to imagine the redheaded vampire pointing a menacing finger at Frankie's brother. Usually, their spats amused her in some borderline-sadistic way, but like her brother, she had grown especially weary of the argument. That was the thing with Lyra, though. If she got worked up, she could go for days.
"No one chastises you enough, Rémy, for how poorly you take care of Frankie. It is a wonder the woman is still alive!"
Frankie heard something slam against the table, undoubtedly Rémy's fist.
"Lyra, for the last time, will you fucking let it go?! You have put enough salt in the wound! What do you want from me? A pound of flesh?"
"It'd be a start!"
"You know what, fine. FINE! I'm sorry. I'm sorry for fucking up Frankie's life! I'm sorry for setting up that… interview she had," his voice wavered for a second as if he had forgotten that someone was within hearing range. The fluctuation in his voice puzzled her, but only momentarily. "I'm sorry that my sister fell in love with someone who broke her heart and that one of our best friends got killed shortly after! I'm sorry that my aunt came all the way to Budapest, risking her life to see Frankie only to get herself killed as well! All right? I'm sorry! It's all my fault!"
She heard him stand up halfway through his speech and she could easily imagine him with his arms outstretched. His voice was dripping in sarcasm.
"You want someone to blame? Here I am!"
"It's not your fault, Rémy," Carmen began, voice entirely rational, but he interrupted her.
"Thank you for the understanding, but it would appear the high and mighty Lyra Kennedy believes that I am the root of all the evil that happens in my sister's life. Well guess what, bitch," and he returned his attention to Lyra, "It's not all my fault. I protect her to the best of my abilities. I do everything in my power to keep her safe and out of Augustine's hands and the only thing you have to do is be there for her when she goes through the emotional trauma shit… and where have you been? Off shagging the best friend of her ex! You know she needs someone to confide in and since Cece is dead and Armand is over a thousand miles away, and she won't talk to me about half the crap she keeps bottled up inside, that task falls to you and Carmen."
"I do the best I can," Carmen interjected, "but she doesn't tell me everything either. You know there are some things she will only talk to you about."
"Exactly. Lyra has no excuse. She isn't always there for Frankie like she should be. She isn't upholding her end of our agreement and instead continues to insist that what happened this morning was my doing, like I'm the one who sent that unhinged sociopath to hit her with a car," Rémy shouted. "She's not feeding because of the goddamn PTSD and I've done all I can to help her with it! I'm at the end of my fucking rope! And even if there was more I could do, it's not my job – it's yours."
"I don't mean to interrupt," came another voice from downstairs. It took Frankie a moment to realize Leinhart had been listening to this entire conversation. Her fairly neutral expression altered somewhat as her brows knitted in disapproval. He shouldn't have been privy to this conversation; he had seen and heard enough already as it was. "But as moving as your collective concern for Miss Chase is, is anyone going to explain what actually happened this morning? I seem to be the only one present who remains in the dark. Besides, don't you think you two are blowing this entirely out of prop…"
"Stay out of this!" Rémy and Lyra shouted at the same time, cutting him off.
There was a tense silence before Rémy, more calmly now, replied,
"I'm sorry, Leinhart, but now is not the time to explain everything."
"I am getting the impression that my continued presence here is unwanted," Leinhart stated with plainness and when no one spoke to the contrary, Frankie could only imagine how wounded he must have felt. She pitied him a little for his ignorance, but it was better this way. She didn't need yet another person being privy to her secrets – especially when she barely knew the man and wasn't even certain he could be trusted in the first place.
Evidently Leinhart took the collective hush as his answer, as Frankie could hear him rising from the chair he must have been sitting in. The way the piece of furniture dragged across the floor was more damning than anything else - accusatory, frustrated. She wasn't even present, and she found herself feeling a little guilty.
"Very well then, you will excuse me. I have evidently overstayed my welcome."
Frankie was holding her breath as she closed her eyes, reaching with her mind to follow the man's unusually muted presence as he made his way to the front door of the bar. The heavy tread of his boots held something purposeful, as if he knew he was still commanding the room, in spite of her tightly lipped friends. She waited for the door to slam behind him, but it never happened.
"Please extend my wishes for a speedy recovery from whatever it is that is ailing your sister," she heard him continue. "Although I'm certain that the lot of you coddling her like some sort of child is not conducive in any way. Danny, I naturally exclude you from my generalization. I can only assume from your silence in this matter that you are merely along for the ride."
He then paused for just a moment, most likely for dramatic effect, before continuing.
"But before I go, allow me to offer you all some unsolicited, outsider advice. Miss Francesca Chase is impetuous and arrogant – there is no denying that. But she's not made of porcelain. So let her bruise a little. At the very least, allow her the choice to fall down and to pick herself back up. While I don't necessarily agree with – Lyra, is it? – when she insists you bear the brunt of the blame for your sister's present condition, Rémy, I do agree that the woman has a right to make her own decisions. She strikes me as the type of person that does not require saving or protecting from anyone – especially if the spectacle from a few days ago has proven anything. The woman can certainly handle herself."
He received no contradictions and so he persisted.
"Trust her strength. And only interfere if she asks you to do so. Contrary to what your latest conversation suggests, I do believe she is more than capable. I can only hope for her sake that you will heed my counsel."
The hint of authority in his voice was astonishing and something Frankie had not expected at all from the likes of Vlad Leinhart.
His words, however, moved in her a way she had not anticipated, despite their being rather audacious - especially from one not intimately acquainted with the intricacies of the situation. But he had just criticized, complimented, and defended her in nearly the same breath, and she was never given a moment to recover from the shock of it, because before the man could make his grand exit, her brother had called out for him.
"Vlad, wait."
Frankie opened her eyes, making an attempt to sit up so she could listen better, but her body ached in protest. Because of the distance and her weakened condition, she couldn't make out what her brother was now whispering to the man – even with her heightened senses. All she could hear were muffled voices and she let out an exasperated breath as she lied back down in defeat.
What was her brother telling him now?
"Rémy?" Danny called out, pulling Frankie away from her thoughts. "I'm going to go get her so we can head back to the apartment. I doubt she's gotten any rest with all this racket," and she heard him stand up.
"That's probably for the best. Carmen, do you mind if we borrow your car?"
"Not at all. I'll go bring it around."
Frankie heard Carmen get up and head toward the back of the bar while Danny started to climb the stairs to Vesper's room.
Despite the distracting movements of the others, Frankie couldn't shake her curiosity when it came to what her brother was discussing with Leinhart. Was he explaining the situation to him? Was he betraying her entire life's history to a man she wasn't even sure they could trust?
She hated the idea of the man pitying her.
And yet, despite Leinhart's faults, at least he recognized that her brother and friends had a habit of smothering her. Yes, they only did it because they cared, but he was right – she needed the liberty to do things at her own pace. They couldn't save her from herself. That responsibility resided with her and her alone.
She needed to heal and grow strong again on her own terms.
But the fact that it had been Leinhart of all people to point this out… as if he knew her…
An uncomfortable knot twisted in her stomach as she was forced to acknowledge how right he was. He had seen it – a mere outsider whom she had only shared a single encounter, not including this one.
What else he had noticed?
Did he truly believe what he had just said, that she was strong enough to deal with this on her own or had he merely said those things to put an end to the bickering?
What if he didn't believe it at all?
Did he pity her?
Had he assumed pity was what she wanted?
Her pride screamed in protest.
No!
She couldn't let people view her in such a light, especially Leinhart! She would not give him the chance to find further fault with her.
From this moment on it would be her personal mission to prove to that man that yes, she was proud, but certainly not the point of conceit as he clearly assumed. She would show him and everyone else that she wasn't a hopeless, pity-fishing basket case. She was a de Chacier. She had the soul of a lion, and the last thing de Chacier's were was helpless.
The time of the broken and grieving Francesca Chase needed to come to an end. No longer would she allow herself to be the victim. It was time for her to rise from the ashes of tragedy and emerge the woman she had once been – a female of intelligence, strength, and tenacity.
Although there was a part of Frankie that resented Leinhart for being the one to call out her failings, buried deep in her subconscious there was some small part of her that was grateful.
It would take time, and she was convinced that she'd stumble and fall a few more times before she found her bearings again, but she needed to do this – not just for the sake of the others, but for herself. With her resolution firm, the door to Vesper's room soon opened, Danny's head peeking through. When he realized she was indeed still awake, he smiled.
"Good afternoon, sunshine. Get any sleep with all that commotion downstairs?"
Frankie smirked.
"What do you think?"
She heard him chuckle as he opened the door all the way, making his way over to the bed where he sat down on the edge, his hands resting on either side of her and Vesper. His attention fell over the slumbering teenager at Frankie's side and he watched as the woman continued to run her fingers through Vesper's hair.
"Well, it's time to take you home. You look like you could use some actual rest."
"In a moment. I'm going to need a little more strength if I'm to get up without waking her."
"Who said anything about you getting up?" he teased, voice hushed. "I plan on carrying you out that door."
Frankie sent him a disapproving look.
"I think not."
"Why not? You've never had a problem with me carrying you around before."
"But that's the problem. I don't need to be carried – especially now that Mr. Leinhart has felt so inclined to do so."
She spoke the words in jest, but Danny had not missed the hint of begrudging in her tone and his eyes still sparkled in amusement.
"You don't like him very much, do you?"
"Fortunately for him, the jury is still out on that."
"He's not that bad, Frank," he began but stopped to laugh quietly at the disgusted look on her face.
"And unfortunately for him, I've yet to come to that same conclusion," she insisted.
"He defended you downstairs just now, you know."
"Only after insulting me."
Danny chuckled.
"I knew you'd be listening."
She smirked.
"Kind of hard not to. All of your voices tend to carry when you're in the same room. It's a wonder Vesper was even able to fall asleep."
"I think anyone could fall asleep if they had fingers running through their hair."
Frankie caught his eye for a moment, but said nothing as they both looked at the slumbering teenager. Danny then cleared his throat.
"Come on, your majesty. Your carriage awaits," and he stood.
"Danny, this is completely unnecessary. I don't need you to carry me." To prove her point, she managed to push herself upright, though admittedly with some difficulty. She was still much too weak and her act of defiance had sent the room spinning. Taking advantage of her distraction, he prepared to scoop her into his arms but she sent him a nasty look. "Unhand me, Daniel Polovsty." He only matched her glare with one of his own.
"Frankie, if you give me so much as a moment's worth of grief, I will call your brother and Leinhart in here to help me escort you out of this room and into the car. So we can do this with them or without them. It is your choice. I'm sure Vlad would love to carry you over the threshold himself," he added cheekily. "You should have seen the way he snarled at Lyra earlier this morning when she tried to take you from him."
Frankie said nothing, the mentioning of Leinhart enough to convince her to keep her protestations to a minimum. But before she could comment on that last bit of information he had shared, the man had already tucked her into his arms, lifting her with ease.
"We can't keep that SUV in the alley. Are you sure you can make it disappear before nightfall?" Rémy asked Lyra.
"Yes. I called Raul. He'll meet me here within the hour and I'll take care of the remains while he gets rid of the car."
"Works for me. Leinhart, has Carmen pulled the sedan around yet?"
"It is ready when you are."
"Good. Do you have any plans for today?"
Dracula knew what Rémy was about to ask him before the words could even pass his lips. Secretly, he would have infinitely preferred to turn in for the day, maybe visit Bernardini so they could go over all that had taken place in the last few hours. But instead, he reluctantly submitted.
"I am at your disposal," he replied.
"Excellent."
Dracula paused for a moment, contemplating the possibilities.
Perhaps if he went, he could squeeze some more information out of Rémy?
He had only received vague details just a few minutes ago in regards to Francesca. Apparently her job as a renegade journalist proved more stressful and dangerous than assumed, though he had a sneaking suspicion that was merely a cover story for the truth. Why Rémy even felt the need to lie in the first place left Vlad feeling a little miffed. But he would get his answers soon enough – he was sure of it. He just had to stay patient and play his cards right.
A movement in the corner of the room soon caught his attention and he turned toward the stairs to see Danny with Frankie in his arms.
Her eyes met his as if on instinct and the second the contact occurred, Dracula became aware of an uncharacteristic swell of nervousness budding inside of him the longer he resided under her gaze, though the sensation was not wholly unpleasant. While evidently still weak from the mysterious events of this morning, her few hours of rest had improved her complexion some. Actually, she looked rather lovely, cradled in Danny's capable arms.
But the sight of her being so close to another man sent a bewildering shot of possessiveness through his body, curling in his gut like a venomous serpent, coiled and ready to strike. Some foreign part of him wanted to banish every other soul from the room so he could have the woman all to himself. He had so many questions… so many things he did not understand.
He was quick to squash his hopes and suspicions with a kind of violent gusto, reminding himself that when it came to Mariella's prophecy and the possibility of Miss Chase's involvement, he actually had no tangible proof to offer him any sort of confirmation. Not to mention, the woman he was now acquainted with in no way resembled the captivating creature whose mere memory had haunted him for centuries.
"I am quite well, I promise," the woman spoke at last, assuring her brother in a hushed tone after she finally broke eye contact with her morning's savior. "I insisted on walking myself, but Danny was determined to carry me down the stairs."
"And rightfully so," Rémy chimed in. "You are still much too weak to walk on your own, and your color isn't where I'd like it to be."
"Rémy, I'm not a child," she insisted, struggling to maintain her composure, but Dracula immediately noticed the hint of defiant irritation in her tone. On some strange level it pleased him, knowing that she was uncomfortable with all the pandering – a small consolation that he had been right in his earlier assertions. "Really Danny, I must insist that you put me down."
"I see no reason for that," he replied. "It would be best if you listened to your brother, Frank. For your own sake."
She noticed the amused grin on Vlad's face and quickly mistook his pleasure for smugness.
"And what are you still doing here, sir?" she asked rather bluntly.
"I am here at your brother's request," the man replied, his hands placed casually behind his back, head held high in that unmistakable aristocratic way.
"A likely story. Everyone here is at my brother's disposal. He likes to think he runs Budapest."
"Oh joy. She's teasing me," Rémy muttered derisively. "Quick. Put her in the car before her sarcasm gets any worse."
Danny obeyed with a laugh, carrying Frankie outside while ignoring how she repeatedly asked him to let her walk. Dracula's eyes followed her until she was out of sight. That was when he felt Rémy's hand rest on his shoulder.
"Is your sister always so ill-tempered?" he inquired lightly. The man snorted.
"Not always. She's usually rather agreeable… well. Mostly. Especially for one who has traversed the plains of hell more than once." Dracula noted the faraway sound in his new friend's tone and he turned to look at him. His expression clearly implored for some sort of clarification, but Rémy's smile only widened as he playfully smacked Vlad's back a bit roughly. Dracula inwardly cringed at what he knew was an affectionate gesture... but still. It felt so undignified. "It's not my place to tell you. If you want to know about Frankie, you'll have to ask Frankie," and Rémy began to make his way out to the car.
"I would, but she doesn't seem to like me very much," Dracula called back.
"Well, she's a private person… and she's a little slow to trust people. I hate to break it to you, Leinhart, but where Frankie is concerned, you're on trial."
"In my own defense, it's completely unwarranted," he insisted.
"I agree, but that's just how she is. Don't worry. My sister gets over her prejudices eventually," Rémy said with a wink before climbing into the driver's seat.
The drive to the Chase apartment proved uneventful. Dracula was astonished to discover that the brother and sister duo lived a relatively short distance away from himself in a rather inconspicuous looking neighborhood. Their actual residence was also tidy and surprisingly spacious given the location.
Rémy and Danny had finally agreed to let Frankie walk, though she had both on either side of her for support, just in case. It was clear she wasn't thrilled at the idea of having Leinhart in her house, but Vlad ignored her disapproving looks and instead offered her a wry grin when he opened the front door and motioned for her to enter with an exaggerated amount of gentility. Though the corners of her mouth twitched for want of a smile, she hid her true feelings well.
Despite her brother's protests, she entered the flat without any assistance, ignoring Rémy when he began to say how her pride would be the death of her. What appeared to surprise her, however, was when Vlad, though evidently tickled by the spectacle, insisted they leave her in peace.
She offered him the closest thing to a grateful look he had witnessed from her thus far, even with the faint hint of suspicion still furrowing her brows as she passed.
The woman had to grip onto the wall and some furniture to keep herself upright, but it was clearly satisfying, being able to prove the others wrong. It wasn't long before she announced that she was going to bed and she bid her brother and Danny a fond good day. But when it was time for her to turn her attention reluctantly to Vlad, her calm and tender expression grew faintly sheepish as she nodded her head to him before turning to make her way down the hall to her bedroom.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Leinhart."
"Good afternoon, Miss Chase," he returned with equal civility.
When she had disappeared into the shadowed hall and they all heard her bedroom door shut and lock, the tension vanished and Dracula turned to face the other gentlemen.
"Well, that was eventful."
Amused by his response, the other two men chuckled as Rémy entered the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of rum and some glasses before placing them onto the dining room table with a deck of cards while Danny instinctively opened a kitchen drawer to retrieve a bag of poker chips.
"Like I said – she'll warm up to you eventually," Rémy replied, pulling back a chair so he could sit down. Danny and Dracula joined him at the table.
"And in Frank's defense, you did cross a couple lines there that first night, Vlad," Danny added.
"Lines that, in my defense, I was wholly ignorant of. How was I to know Morene held such prejudices?"
"True, but you haven't exactly apologized to her either," Rémy pointed out.
"I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I haven't exactly had a moment to."
"She has a lot going on."
"So you keep saying."
Dracula's comment earned the reaction from Rémy that he had been aiming for and he watched out of the corner of his eye as the man's original insistence towards discretion began to crumble.
"And in her defense, you're not exactly seeing her at her best right now."
"She is doing a lot better than she was a while back," Danny chimed in.
"Thank god for that."
"And how exactly was she a while back – for comparison's sake?" Dracula asked carefully, trying not to sound too interested, but Rémy was no fool.
"After the morning we just had, I'd prefer not talk about this right now, Leinhart. Let's change the subject," and he snatched the remote to the television and switched it on for background noise as Danny shuffled the deck of cards and started to distribute them.
Weary of being refused at every turn, Dracula made no attempt to mask his annoyance that time as he, still standing, turned to make his way toward the door.
"Very well, then."
"Where are you going?"
"Home," he stated simply. "There's no reason for me to stay any longer."
"But…"
"You'll forgive me, but I saw the fear in your eyes earlier this morning when… whatever it is that happened took place. I do not enjoy being purposefully left in ignorance, especially where my own security is concerned. But if in ignorance is where you'd prefer to keep me, then you will excuse me, but the day still lingers and I could use some rest. I shall take my leave."
Danny said nothing. He had learned that in such situations, it was best to remain silent, and both he and Dracula watched as Rémy's jaw tightened, his whole person seeming to tense up as if he were experiencing an intense struggle within himself.
"You're not going to let any of this go, are you?" Rémy finally asked before Vlad could reach the exit. The man's back was turned so they missed his conniving grin. When he turned, it had vanished.
"I signed up for a revolution… not for whatever your sister is. So if you want me to stay, then no… no I'm not going to let it go. I am your friend, Rémy, and one of the first things you ever said to me was that if I had a question or a concern, all I had to do was ask. An open door policy is what you called it. You have told me that if I wish to get to know your sister that I will need to do so by taking my queries to her directly – and I have no qualms in doing so, but she is not here to explain herself. You are. Besides, I know she doesn't trust me – even a blind man could see that."
"That's because she doesn't know you."
"Even if she did, I can't help but wonder if her opinion would even change," he muttered, though it was mostly to himself.
"You're selling yourself awful short there, Leinhart."
"Why does it matter? – what Frankie is or is not?" Danny asked.
"Let me ask you this – were we in danger earlier this morning?"
The two gentlemen at the table said nothing, but their silence spoke volumes.
"Was Miss Chase that danger?"
Again, silence and an exchange of knowing looks.
"I am not afraid of a little peril now and then, gentlemen. In truth, I welcome it. It makes the mundane of eternity far more interesting – but I have a right to know what I'm getting into before I enter into it."
"What do you want me to do then, Vlad? I can't betray my sister's trust," Rémy interjected. "I won't. Believe me, if I had her blessing, I would happily tell you everything you want to know, but she's extremely private and for good reason."
"Then I propose a compromise," Dracula announced, making his way back to the table, though he never took a seat. He rested his hands on the back of an empty chair. "You'll recall that what little I know came from Morene, and for all of that woman's virtue, I think it's safe to assume that Miss Khiliani is not the most reliable of unbiased sources. So why don't I tell you what she has told me in the last few days and you can take this opportunity to identify what is fact and what is fabrication?" Rémy sighed heavily, clearly considering. Vladislaus continued, "I am your friend. I swore to you once and I will swear to you again – whatever secrets you or your sister have to hide, you can trust me with them. I have no reason to wish either of you ill."
His argument was compelling; Rémy couldn't deny that. It was strange how effortlessly he and Leinhart had hit it off from the start, how they had become such good friends and how easy it had been to share almost everything with the man. But where Frankie was concerned… that was a different level of intimacy entirely.
Rémy had always had trouble opening up about his sister – even to lifelong friends like Derek or Danny or even Carmen; and the thing was nobody really talked about Frankie and her history because the important people in his life already knew what they needed to. There was no need to talk about it, to revisit the past and all of its complexities. For the most part, they had all been there, had all experienced it, and knew all the details.
The man took a long drink and then exhaled loudly in defeat.
"Alright, I agree to your terms. But when I say we're done, we're done; do you understand? If you want more details, you're going to have to go to Frankie. Lord knows if she finds out we're even having this conversation, it'll be my hide she goes after, not yours." He paused for a moment before looking up at Leinhart as the man finally took a seat.
Danny leaned back in his chair, tossing his cards onto the table, his expression clearly illustrating his dislike of the situation.
"For the record, I don't think this is a good idea – going behind Frankie's back like this."
"Neither do I, but Leinhart is right… we need to give him something."
"I still don't think she's is going to be too psyched when she finds out. And you know her… she always manages to find out."