Happy Monday to all! Many thanks to Scarlet Empress, Riona Winters, She-Devil Red, Ms. Marionette, RavenHuffle, and cneajna for reviewing over the weekend! Like, seriously... you guys are absolute rockstars and deserve ALL the good karma.
Now, I could be a little biased here, but there is so much I love about this chapter - it was such a blast to (re)write! Especially a certain scene or two about half-way through... Admittedly, I toyed with the idea of breaking this up into two separate chapters on more than one occasion, but a part of me is glad I chose to keep it at this length. It's an experience and a lot is about to go down, so strap in! We're also finally going to get Frankie and Vlad alone together for the first time since the prologue. Curious to get your thoughts on the encounter and the developments in their dynamic... *wiggles eyebrows*
But for now, I hope you all have a glorious week ahead, and ENJOY!
CW: reference to an attempted assault, some violence/terror (incl. blood & gore), and some minor sexual references
Copyright © 2021 TSM. All rights reserved.
Chapter 11
Let's Go Hunting
It was late in the afternoon and the men were still seated around the dining room table in the Chase apartment. Danny and Rémy had made themselves at home as the daylight had waned, but Dracula remained the very model of self-restraint, despite his growing impatience... and exhaustion. He was a wall of unreadable expressions, his brow creased just slightly in thought as he digested in silence what he had heard.
What Rémy had divulged wasn't anything very explicit – let alone helpful in the grand scheme of things. If anything, it was borderline impressive how long the man could go on talking for literal hours without really saying much of anything, thus leaving Vlad with a wasted day, plus more questions than answers. But for all his vagueness, what Rémy did divulge left much to consider. For starters, there was a very real chance that Francesca was indeed the woman Dracula had been searching for and her brother's continued refusal to disclose anything explicit only added to the intrigue.
"So," Vlad finally said after several minutes of silence, "let me see if I have this right. Your sister was in a long-term relationship with a werewolf who broke things off with her about six years ago when he discovered she was in fact betrothed to some mystery man of great power and influence – though you won't tell me who that is…"
He paused for a moment to see if Rémy would change his mind, but the man was unmoved, so he continued with his recap.
"And while the split itself was civil and mutually agreed upon, the separation proved detrimental to her emotional state of being and she started to get careless, as you put it. Your aunt, Cecilia, who is now the late wife of your uncle, Armand, who lives in France and helps oversee a utopian society of vampires, humans, and werewolves – all of which are all not in the Budapest registrar – she came to the city against your uncle's wishes to check on you and your sister, and when she tried to leave, she was caught and executed for resisting arrest."
There was another pause in hopes of further clarification, but when none was given, Dracula finished,
"That same night, your friend, Derek, was murdered – though you won't tell me how or by whom – only that your sister feels personally responsible for what happened even though both of you here have insisted rather vehemently that whatever it was that took place wasn't her fault."
"And then she slipped into a nasty bout of guilt-ridden depression, coupled with some lovely PTSD which has made it difficult for her to feed, resulting in her weakened state so when she's… under pressure, for lack of a better explanation, she becomes more prone to losing control. Yes. Now you have the basics and you're all caught up," Rémy finished impatiently.
"But that still doesn't explain what happened at Carmen's this morning. And losing control? Losing control how and of what? And what does that have to do with her inexplicable relationship with a werewolf?"
Rémy held up his hand.
"No, we had an agreement. I corrected the false information Morene gave you and that's all you're getting. Believe me, Leinhart, as much as I'd love to just tell you about who Frankie is sworn to and all the fucking drama surrounding that, I can't. It's not my secret to tell, and honestly, I'm not even sure it would make much difference if I did. All you need to know is that there is more to my sister than what first impression suggests. We were in danger this morning, yes, but we are not in danger now, nor will we be ever again. I give you my word. Alright?" he snapped, clearly done with this topic.
They had exhausted it as far as he was concerned, but the remaining secrecy and newfound questions this information unearthed had only deepened Dracula's curiosity. But he had pushed his luck far enough today, so he remained silent.
"If you want the rest of the story, you'll have to take it up with Frankie. Please don't ask me any more questions, I beg you," Rémy continued.
"You have been more than fair," Dracula said, trying to sound appeased, though that was the last thing he was in that moment.
After the topic was officially dropped, Danny made an effort to dispel the tension by commenting on a story currently being covered on the news, leaving Vlad with an opportunity to ponder for a moment in peace. All of the information he had received on Frankie would need time to settle. How he wished he could just excuse himself and head back to his flat so he could sleep on it before dissecting it all.
A pity he couldn't seem to bring himself to leave.
With a heavy sigh, Dracula leaned back into the wooden chair, folding his current hand of cards and watching with a blank expression as Danny and Rémy continued to play. In truth, a part of him was a little disappointed with the information he had just received, having secretly hoped that Rémy would have been able to explain why he had acted the way he had when Lyra had attempted to take Francesca from his arms, or where his newfound possessiveness and draw towards the woman was coming from.
There were no logical explanations to be had, save one, and he wasn't exactly at a point where he could accept the very real possibility that Miss Francesca Chase was in fact the elusive Léonide of Venice, his fated bride to be.
He drummed his fingers idly on the edge of the table as he thought to himself, staring blankly into the distance. He could feel her presence in the apartment, an intoxicating aura that he had noticed the first time she had walked into Carmen's bar. It was such an effortless thing - attuning himself to her, as if he were keeping her in his periphery on instinct. He couldn't seem to help it. Even now, as the day had waned on, he could feel her just down the hall in her bedroom, as if she were standing right behind him, her breath on his neck. There was something about that woman that he was helplessly drawn to – had been from the moment they had first met.
The Léonide of Venice had effortlessly lured him with her natural charm and wit and beauty, and while the woman in the bedroom down the hall seemed to have a similar hold on him, she was not at all the same female of almost four hundred years ago now.
Or was she?
Was Léonide still in there somewhere?
He needed to know for himself. If only he could get a moment alone with her to test her, perhaps…
Rémy's mobile rang, the sound seeming uncommonly loud as it effectively disrupted Dracula's private ponderings. The man answered his phone as he placed his cards face down on the table.
"Hello? ... Whoa, whoa Carmen… slow down. In… In English, please…. English, woman!"
Dracula and Danny watched the tired look on Rémy's face vanish as the sound of Carmen shouting into the other line broke out into the air. She was talking so loud, they all could hear her as plain as day.
"It's gone, Rémy. Everything is gone!"
"What's gone?"
"The tavern! My flat! That asshole burned it all down! The whole block is on fire!"
"Who burned it down? What's going on?"
"I was cleaning up and getting ready for tonight when Marx's brother and his goons suddenly came into the bar. I told them we were closed for a couple more hours but then they started destroying the place!"
The three men were so engrossed in Carmen's tale, they had never noticed Frankie emerging soundlessly from her bedroom, lingering in the darkened hallway as she listened intently.
"They started to tear the place apart and one of them jumped behind the bar and began shattering bottles and spreading the booze around. They lit the place on fire, Rémy! It's gone! All of it is gone!"
"Carmen, where are you? Where is Vesper?"
"There was a man with them. He ran upstairs while I was trying to stop the others and I heard Vesper screaming. He was trying to… to…" Carmen's voice was broken up in sobs, and Rémy's fist was clenched tightly as he sat on the edge of his chair, leaning over the phone.
"Carmen where is Vesper?!" he shouted.
"I got her out. We're in the alleyway near the end of the block… across the street."
All three of the men stood in unison, quickly throwing their things together and heading toward the door.
"Carmen, stay where you are and remain out of sight. I'll be there as soon as I can. I'm leaving right now… Don't move!"
The sun had begun to set as they neared their destination.
When they turned onto the next street where Carmen's tavern had been, they were met by a crowd of people who had gathered around to watch as a handful of firefighters attempted to put out the inferno that had engulfed not only Carmen's bar, but several of the neighboring buildings. The street was in chaos. People, vampires and humans alike, were all a panic in the area as the dark of night started to descend upon them.
Rémy, realizing that he could no longer drive amongst the chaotic crowd, parked the car on the side of the road and jumped out, racing down the sidewalk while shouting Carmen's name. Danny and Dracula were close behind, though Vlad lingered a little farther back as the spectacle caused him to slow his pace down to a walk and eventually a halt.
It had been an age since he had beheld such confusion and fear.
People were everywhere, running, shouting, some of them in utter hysterics. There were a few that stood on the street with little piles of belongings beside them, while most were weeping because they had lost everything. These were his people - his people - and he had no idea how to help them. It was such a strange occurrence, feeling so useless, unsure of how to offer these victims of this terror attack some semblance of comfort.
Before the feeling could completely run away with him, Vlad heard Carmen shout Rémy's name a block ahead and he turned to see the two embracing frantically. The woman wept in relief the moment she was in the man's arms, Danny soon close behind. When Dracula had finally joined them, he loitered in the opening of the alley, silently observing as the scene unfolded, searching for anything out of the ordinary that could lead them to who had done this.
These people before him – this little dysfunctional found-family of revolutionaries – though strangers to him, were the closest things he had to friends right now. But watching them reunite amidst the present tragedy brought to mind a time when he had had a family of his own… his children. And with their memory brought a familiar and oft suppressed pang of loss that stabbed at the very heart of him, which only served to make the scene before him in this shadowed alleyway all the more moving. How he missed his children, the Dracul Sânge. What he wouldn't give in this moment to taste of that sweet relief Rémy was experiencing now.
"Where is Vesper?"
"I'm okay," a small voice spoke just a few feet away. Vlad watched as Rémy Chase immediately made his way over to the teenage dhampir, embracing her tightly before carefully wiping away a smudge of soot from her cheek, something deeply paternal and affectionate in his face – a look Dracula had not seen in him before tonight, a look he himself had not worn in decades…
"Are you sure you're alright?" Rémy inquired.
Large tears tumbled down from the teenager's eyes, but she did her best to look brave, particularly when she noticed Vlad was present, the events of the morning evidently still fresh in her mind.
"Where's Frankie?" Vesper whispered, her voice breaking with emotion.
"She's still at home… I will take you to her. Both of you, right now."
Carmen moved over to the two of them, her arms wrapped around herself as she quickly brushed her own tears from her face and took a few deep breaths.
"Did you get a good look at who did this?" Rémy asked her.
"The only other surviving Marx brother, of course… a few of his asshole friends."
"What about the one who attacked Vesper?" someone asked from the shadows and everyone turned in the direction of the voice.
"Frankie!" Vesper suddenly shouted, rushing out of Rémy's arms and running quickly down the alley towards the figure that stood just a few yards away.
Dracula looked up, recognizing the woman as she stepped into the dim light of a streetlamp. Her hair was pulled back and she was still in that black dress she had been wearing earlier - as if she had never gone to bed in the first place - though she wore a trench coat now, the large buttons and sash undone. She said nothing as she returned the embrace of the teenage girl, but there was a darkening of expression that even Dracula could recognize – a thirst for revenge.
Rémy sent his sister a quiet look that spoke of his displeasure. She should have been at home resting. But when she held Vesper tighter to her, his face relaxed and he returned his attention to Carmen.
"It was Bartos," Carmen finally answered.
"Bartos?" came Danny's display of disbelief.
"There has to be some mistake," Dracula encouraged. "Lord Bartos is a council member, hardly the type to get his hands dirty in such a direct way."
"It was him. I saw him with my own eyes," Carmen defended.
"Are you sure it was him?" Rémy double-checked as he took Carmen's hand, urging her to relax.
"Without a shadow of a doubt. I know his face. He's been on the news for the last couple weeks. I know it was him."
"I still don't see why someone of a high-profile like Bartos would not only attack you, but openly ally himself with someone like the Marx brothers, let alone burn down an entire block," Dracula insisted, unable to understand why they were all so comfortable with the idea that it was a member of the council who did this and not someone lower-tier lackey.
Not even Augustine knew the identities of the alliance members – why would someone like Bartos know?
"Maybe it was Marx who put the idea into his head," Rémy explained. "We've been having issues with his posse for weeks and on the same day that he tries to attack us, Bartos comes out of the wood-work and burns down an otherwise random tavern in the east-district? That can't be a coincidence."
"But we don't even know if it was him. It could have been a look alike, someone trying to stir everyone up by thinking the council is behind this heinous act," Dracula continued. It was clear he was in the minority here, so he quickly rethought his strategy. "I'm just thinking we should be absolutely certain it was him before we go out looking for blood."
"It was Bartos," Vesper finally spoke up, still in Frankie's arms as the woman led them closer to the company. "Frankie had me study the faces of the council members as part of my education since I could first talk. I know his face, too, Mr. Leinhart. It was him."
Dracula was unwilling to argue with a teenage girl, so he opted for silence.
At last, Frankie spoke.
"Carmen, were you two able to save anything before you got out?" she asked calmly.
"I was able to get my trunk filled with the valuables, some of Ramón's things."
"Who's Ramón?" Vlad whispered to Rémy while the two women spoke.
"Her late husband," was the only explanation he got.
"And Vesper was able to grab the back-up drive to her computer… and a couple notebooks but that was it."
Vesper started to cry for the loss of her belongings.
"My books!" she proclaimed.
"Don't worry about those, darling. I'll take care of it," Frankie assured her.
"And my laptop! The one you and Rémy gave me!"
"Carmen, do you have anywhere to stay?" Rémy asked. The woman looked over at Vesper who was still in Frankie's arms and she shook her head as tears started to burn in her eyes again.
"No."
"You two are going to stay with us," Frankie said immediately to the surprise of everyone, including Rémy. Vesper perked up, sniffing.
"Really?"
Rémy and Carmen seemed equally surprised, only not in the excited kind of way.
"Frankie, that isn't necessary," Carmen began.
"Where would we even put them?" Rémy added.
"Vesper can have the guest bedroom since she needs the lights on. That's right next to me in case anything happens. And Carmen can either use my bed or yours, and one of us sleeps on the sofa," Frankie explained rather nonchalantly.
"No one is sleeping on the sofa," Carmen insisted. "I will not become a burden for the two of you. You have enough problems as it is. Vesper and I will find a hostel to stay in and..."
"You will do nothing of the sort," Frankie interrupted, voice still calm, but firm. "You two would be much safer and far more comfortable with us. And if Rémy gets tired of all the estrogen, I'm sure he could bunk with Danny or even Lily."
"I don't want to impose…"
"No, Frankie's right," Rémy chimed in. "You two will stay with us until we can find you another place to settle down. We'll discuss the particulars later."
"But…" Carmen started to protest.
"No buts, Carmen. You two are staying with us, whether you like it or not," Frankie replied, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Carmen relented and eventually they all headed toward the car to drive back to the apartment to discuss their next course of action.
"I think we should go out there right now and hunt those bastards down. Take out Marx and his entire organization," Danny declared passionately, slamming his palm down onto the dining room table within the Chase apartment. A couple of Rémy's other close friends and small handful of additional alliance members were present as well, all trying to agree on a course of action.
"In the middle of the night?" Carmen asked skeptically. "The place is still burning, Danny! And that street is now crawling with law enforcement. It would be totally reckless and irresponsible to go hunting at this hour… especially in that part of town, and with Marx and his gang on high alert, undoubtedly prepping for our retaliation."
"Carmen is right," Rémy agreed, patting the massaging hands of Lily who stood behind him. She had arrived the instant the news broke and though she kept her thoughts to herself, it was clear that Carmen wasn't exactly thrilled by the woman's presence.
Danny leaned over and pointed at a printed map of the several blocks circling what had been Carmen's bar.
"She said they ran in this direction," he pointed out. "Isn't there an old subway line beneath the street that they could escape into?"
"That is a possibility, but the underground is a maze. Unless we find evidence that they went down there, that option is as hopeless as combing through the alleys and streets of the east side," someone else added.
"I hate to be the realist here," Dracula chimed in, "but Marx and especially Bartos aren't going to be anywhere near the tavern at this point. I can't speak for the former, but where the latter is concerned, let me just remind you that you are dealing with a very old vampire and seasoned member of Augustine's council. He isn't going to loiter around the scene of the crime and wait for you to find him."
Everyone sitting at the table went quiet and turned around to look at him with skeptic glares.
"Thanks for the encouragement, Leinhart," Carmen muttered under her breath.
"Carmen, he's trying to help," Rémy defended.
"And you know what? I didn't ask for his help!" Carmen snapped, her comment followed by a massively chaotic onslaught of noise as everyone began to talk and argue at once, each one shouting over another so they could be heard.
Vesper watched with open fascination as they all debated over who was right and what their plan should be, leaving Vlad to rub the bridge of his nose between his eyes as he tried to block out the escalating confrontation. He was about to jump back into the conversation in an effort to get everyone back on track when he noticed the front door opening quietly, Frankie silently exiting from the apartment, going otherwise unnoticed.
Intrigued, he stealthily retreated from the commotion before slowly picking up his jacket as to not draw any attention to himself. Then he slipped out of the flat, following after the woman without as much as a word to the others. He caught a glimpse of the brunette as she began to head down the stairs, shortly after he shut the door behind him. When he reached the end of the hall, Frankie had already made her way down to the first floor where she was now walking out into the street.
A strange kind of anticipation started to pulsate steadily through his veins as he straightened the collar of his jacket before lifting himself up and over the banister, falling down the center of the spiraling staircase and landing gracefully on his feet. Only a single lock of hair fell free, and he tucked it habitually behind his ear.
Vladislaus moved out onto the street, quickly scanning the area for some sight of the unsuspecting female as he hadn't made a permanent memory of her scent yet.
Walking briskly and already a couple of blocks ahead with the end of her jacket trailing behind her like a knee length cape was Francesca, her lapels flipped up as she turned another corner. Dracula quickly materialized to said corner as stealthily as he could, trying to catch the remnants of her scent so he'd have less difficulty tracking her. She was moving quicker than he had anticipated for one being as "weak" as she reportedly was.
Realizing that he'd have to do this the old fashioned way, he shoved his hands into his pockets to appear as nonchalant as possible before gluing his eyes to that mahogany brown ponytail. It took him a moment to find a good pace that left him a safe distance behind while remaining unnoticed and it wasn't long before those old hunter instincts of his began to kick in.
Dracula followed her for what felt like an age, weaving through the massive crowds of people, turning down numerous corners and side-streets, around buildings and businesses he barely made note of, his eyes always fixed on her. After traveling through much of the west side and central Budapest, the banks of the river eventually came into view.
After a while, the crowds began to thin as they reached the Chain Bridge, one of the most famous bridges in Budapest. The abandoned and crumbling Parliament building on the eastern shore of the river was shadowed by the glorious architecture on the opposing side and the sight tugged at Dracula's heart for just an instant as he was forced to recall how much his beloved city had changed… how everything seemed to have changed.
But before his thoughts could wax too poetic on the state of the world in which he now lived, he noticed that the woman had finally ceased her movements, locating herself in a solitary place near the center of the bridge. She was leaning forward against the railing, appearing to study the black Danube below, silhouetted in moonlight. Careful to remain unnoticed, he moved onto the overpass, keeping to what shadows he could, sure to stay out of her periphery. When he was only a few feet from her, he finally paused.
This sudden moment of stillness and privacy afforded him the opportunity to observe the female more closely, and without interruption or fear of getting caught. And so for the first time since they had met, he took the chance to look at her – really look at her.
She was still donning her ruined dress from the previous evening, not that he could pass judgment on the woman; he had yet to change as well. But it was startling how her otherwise simplistic and unkempt appearance affected him so.
His physical demands began to take over his rational mode of thought and he had the sudden urge to touch her, to reach out and run his fingers along the side of that flawless throat, to feel the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips. He took an unconscious step forward, ready to extend his hand when he immediately stopped himself and recoiled, his eyes wide in response to these newfound desires of his.
Like it had just this morning, he was left to combat his confusion, questioning this strange impulse to be near her. The suspicion from earlier returned, this time with far more gusto.
Perhaps… perhaps Francesca truly was the woman Mariella had prophesied of?
He tried once more to banish the thought as he had multiple times already in the last few hours, but it had already begun to take root in him. So instead, he feebly attempted to rationalize the notion away.
The attraction, let's start there, he mused a little frantically. He had encountered a host of aesthetically pleasing women in the past. Perhaps this was his subconscious' way of appreciating her inherent beauty? Yes, he thought to himself. That's good. Truly, he hadn't thought once about her since their first encounter until today when their paths had crossed again. It had been the first time since the acquaintanceship had been formed that he had given the sister of Rémy Chase any real thought at all. If she had been the one, wouldn't he have noticed it immediately?
Satisfied for the moment with his clever excuses, he exhaled softly as if in relief and rubbed the back of his neck, deciding it was the lack of rest and the need of a vein that had him thinking and feeling this way. Perhaps it would be best to just turn in. He had a lot of thinking to do anyway and he wasn't going to get any of it done if he stayed out here.
With his mind made up, Dracula turned to head across the bridge towards home when Frankie suddenly spoke.
"What did you want, Mr. Leinhart?" she asked him, never turning around to look at him, her attention still fixed on river below.
Impressed that she had noticed him at all and silently hopeful that she hadn't taken account of the length of time he had lingered, he collected himself, placing his hands behind his back.
"Nothing," he answered.
Unknown to him, however, Frankie had closed her eyes for just a moment to privately revel in the deep register of his voice, its smoothness. The sound of that single word being uttered had sent the corner of her lips curving just slightly. When he came to stand beside her, his back against the railing and elbows propped up behind him as he leaned back, she had to fight to keep her attention forward.
"Then why are you here?" she inquired as evenly as she could, making her question more specific.
"A number of reasons," was his answer. "The chief among them being my desire to ensure that my friend's little sister doesn't get herself into any further trouble."
Frankie rolled her eyes and reached inside her coat pocket, removing a black colored cigarette and a lighter. She placed the thin roll between her lips before putting the flame against the end.
"It's not your job to babysit me," she finally replied after inhaling a lung-full of clove-flavored smoke. "And besides, I don't need your protection."
He replied with a smug grin.
"Well, it wouldn't be the first time in the last twenty-four hours that I've protected you. Perhaps I'm forming an unintended bad habit."
"In my experience, bad habits aren't often formed with intention," she muttered back.
"I didn't come all this way seeking your company, if that's what concerns you," was his quick defense, the snark in his tone not lost to her. But two could play that game.
"Ah, so once more, you're at my brother's disposal, then." Her sarcastic chuckle had him narrowing his eyes a little in her direction. "It would appear he's found yet another bitch to do his bidding."
Dracula's good humor faltered a bit, his blood chilling a few degrees.
Perhaps it was the exhaustion, or maybe he had just had his fill of being dismissed as much as he had in the last twenty-four hours; but something about her response chafed him. Where did she get off insulting him like that and unprovoked? Was she spoiling for another fight? The words how dare you were on the tip of his tongue but he kept his mouth shut. The woman's expression was apathetic at best and for a moment he wondered if she had spoken her previous comment in earnest or if she had only said it to get a rise out of him. Making the conscious decision to believe the latter, he denied her the pleasure of his anger.
"It's odd though, because you don't quite strike me as the submissive and obedient type," Frankie continued, finally looking at him.
Those eyes of hers were breathtaking - a deep blue, somewhere between cerulean and sapphire. And the focus in her gaze, the sharpness...
"I'm usually not," he finally replied.
"Then why is Rémy the exception?"
"Your brother is my friend. I will do anything to maintain that rapport. Even if it means permitting him to play the role of leader."
"Or being civil around his irritatingly proud and needy younger sister?" she teased, arching a single brow.
Ah, so she had overheard his comments from this morning.
Wait… so was she flirting with him?
He returned her pointed look with one of his own, leaning in just a little.
"Especially that, although that particular task has proven far more difficult. At least when dealing with your brother, I'm permitted some semblance of equal footing."
"Well, you will be pleased to know that you have acquired his trust and as result, I suppose I must at least make an attempt to be civil around you. A pity. I had enjoyed our contentious repartee the other evening."
He scoffed.
"Is that what you're calling it?"
"Oh, please – you and I both know that you don't particularly care for me."
"What I don't care for is your mistrust of me when I've done nothing to deserve it."
"You're a stranger, and you'll forgive me, but I've always been slow to trust people I don't know… hell, even the people I do."
"So what can I do to help rectify that?"
"I haven't decided yet," she confessed with sincerity before sending him a sidelong glance. "Unfortunately, your first impression has left much to be desired."
So she was still bitter about what he had said when they had first met, he thought to himself. He couldn't entirely blame her for that.
"In my defense, yours was no better," he countered, his smirk deepening, and she turned away from him again, choosing to stare out over the river instead of holding his gaze. Something about those electric blue eyes of his made her feel… warm.
"I can agree to a civil acquaintanceship in spite of our mutual antipathy if you can," and she took another drag before flicking the butt of her cigarette over the railing and watching with disinterest as it floated a ways before plummeting into the black depths of the Danube.
Dracula did not reply to this comment. Instead, he continued to observe her openly. If Frankie was truly whom he suspected, it made him wonder…
What had she experienced to cause this change in her? That wit was still there – their effortless banter proved that – but she was so caustic, jaded even. What had she gone through, what things had she seen? What were the hidden details of her past? In order to resist the temptation to pry, Dracula turned around so he could face the river as well, still standing beside her.
The silence between them lasted for some time before Frankie finally broke it, apparently with some internal struggle he couldn't quite understand.
"You didn't have to catch me this morning, you know," she noted quietly, staring down at her hands.
He perked up at the sound of her voice before repositioning himself so he was facing her, his side leaning against the railing now.
"I didn't?"
"No. Lyra had stopped the car. I've had my fair share of falls in the past and they've all been much worse than what that would have been."
"Are you trying to express gratitude, Miss Chase? Because if you are, it may help if you just say the words instead of dancing around them," he replied, purposefully baiting her. She couldn't help but chuckle to herself as she leaned forward a bit more, brushing a few rebellious strands of hair from her face.
"Whatever. You know what I'm trying to say."
"Perhaps, but maybe I'd still like to hear you say it," he suggested. She sent him another one of those scathing sidelong glances of hers.
"Isn't your ego sufficient enough as it is? You don't need me boosting it." Once more, he couldn't tell if she was teasing or censuring him, but that didn't cause his smile to falter for even a moment.
"It would appear someone has a difficult time saying the words 'thank you,'" he mocked, leaning in a little closer to her. He also couldn't help but wonder if she had trouble saying the word please, too. The thought made something delicious coil in his pelvis. He had hoped she gathered his meaning and was gratified when she did, retreating a little in response.
"Kind of like how someone else has difficulty saying the words 'I'm sorry,'" she retorted, distancing herself.
Dracula knew to what she referred and he straightened a bit, his nose curling slightly as if it had encountered a foul smell.
"Are you still holding what happened with Morene against me?" he inquired. The glare she gave him was her response. He rolled his eyes. "I did apologize."
"Yes, to my brother."
"I asked him to deliver the message because I was hoping I could avoid incurring your wrath by resurrecting the topic," and he moved closer to her.
He noted her immediate retreat at his sudden proximity and the mélange of conflicting emotions in her eyes at his nearness made him feel suddenly mischievous. She seemed nervous whenever he drew near – but not in a negative way. If he had sensed that she was truly uncomfortable, he'd have kept his distance.
This was more… flustered.
He liked flustered.
Evidently she was not as unaffected by him as she liked to pretend. The closer he was, the more she struggled to focus. He decided to use this to his advantage.
"Clearly my efforts have been in vain, since I am still subject to your loathing," he continued and he took another step forward.
She shrank just slightly under his gaze, but he was pleasantly surprised when she didn't back away that time.
She stood her ground, struggling to hold the intensity of his stare.
"You telling my brother to deliver your apologies to me is not the same as offering them directly. We're in the twenty-second century, for heaven's sake… not the dark ages."
When she had finished delivering her piece, she took another step back again, brow furrowing a little in suspicion when he followed after her, his shadow inching closer, as if it were threatening to swallow her whole.
As he suspected, Frankie's retreat wasn't wholly out of a need for space. The attraction he had been attempting to explain away earlier was anything but one-sided and similar to his denial, unbeknownst to him, Frankie was now the one struggling to ignore her own urges and reactions when it came to the man. His sudden nearness had her realizing how well built he was, how wonderfully he smelled… how much the mere sound of his voice or the intensity of his gaze on her body affected her.
In a moment of weakness, her eyes swept over him in open scrutiny.
His shoulders were broad and he looked undeniably strong and powerful beneath the custom-tailored suit.
Money was clearly no object to her brother's mysterious friend. Just by observing his clothes, she could tell that this Vlad Leinhart took a great deal of pride in his appearance… rightfully so. The man was beautiful in a way that was otherworldly, maybe even a little diabolical. It sent her previously dormant hormones raging.
"I know what century we're in. I don't need you to be my calendar," he replied, taking another step forward, this cat-and-mouse dance of theirs exciting him far more than he could have anticipated. Dracula had no idea why, but he found himself loving the pleasure in her eyes that she was struggling to conceal, the faint blush that had started to color her cheeks as he drew closer.
Finally having had enough of his mockery and predatory movements, she suddenly shoved him roughly backward, the outburst and abrupt physical contact sending a jolt through him.
"Okay, seriously, what is your problem? Would you mind giving me some space? You're crowding me!" she snapped.
Then he saw it.
That spark in her eyes – a fire he knew anywhere.
A thrill shot down his spine. He dare not believe…
He had found her!
After all of these centuries, here she was. Léonide. The one that got away.
The joy at having discovered her ignited something dark and playful inside of him, which had him taunting her further by stalking toward her with more purpose now, eventually backing her against an illuminated pillar.
"What? You don't like me being close to you?" he teased seductively, a dark arch in his smile. She tried to shove him away again, but he grabbed hold of her wrists.
"This is sexual harassment," she declared, pressing her back against the pillar.
Dracula ignored her protestations and leaned in, their bodies mere inches apart as he made a quick maneuver so both her wrists were in one of his hands and he chuckled deviously at her comment.
"So stop me," he challenged her. "I know you have the physical capacity. Let's see if you have the will to match it."
She rolled her eyes and forced out a laugh in an attempt to dispel the growing tension between them.
"You are such an ass."
"Now, now Miss Chase," he chided. "That is no way for a lady to speak."
"And this is no way for a gentleman to behave, hypocrite."
His playful smile fell a fraction as his eyes narrowed a bit.
"There's no need to hurl insults."
"Insults? That would suggest that the accusation was nothing but a malicious falsehood, but I've seen the façade you wear when the others are around. Evidently, when there is no one but me here to witness your behavior, your true colors come out. You're nothing more than a pompous, domineering brute!"
He grabbed hold of her neck suddenly in a knee-jerk reaction of asserted dominance – not hard enough to choke her, but the strength in his fingers promised her that he could if she insisted on continuing. He had no idea what the act ignited in her, however, just beneath the surface; how the power and authority now oozing so effortlessly from him sent her insides unspooling in a luxurious, liquid wave of warmth. If her heart had still been beating, it would have been thundering in her chest with excitement.
"You know that I could break you if I felt so inclined," he replied darkly, but they both knew it was a hollow threat.
"Is that supposed to frighten me into submission?" she retorted, calling him out on his bluff. How little she understood just how much he appreciated her lack of intimidation, how much he adored the fearlessness in her eyes.
"Frighten you? Never," was his lighter response, and in that moment, it became clear to her – this was a game to him – she could see it in his face. He was testing her.
Well, if a battle of wills is what he wanted, she was more than willing to oblige.
"You have no idea who you're playing with," she replied, moving her head forward so she could press her throat against his hand, leaning into his dominance and his hold, the action taking him aback for only a second. That subtle pressure at the base of his spine tightened notably and he felt his cock twitch to life.
"Then show me."
With a quick maneuver, she freed her wrists from his grasp, blocking his attempt to grab her again with a swift smack against his reaching hand. Moving out of the way of his second attack, she took hold of his free arm and swung him around, his back slamming into the pole behind her so they had switched places. Then she took hold of his throat and pressed down, forcing him to stay put in spite of the height difference, managing to turn the tables on him.
Dracula smiled at her show of defiance, impressed… and admittedly, even a little turned on by it.
"If ruling me is your aspiration, sir, you're going to have to do a lot better than that."
He was still holding her neck in turn, having never released it, but upon her words, his grip loosened, prompting her to ease up on the amount of force she was using. Frankie had assumed their little battle was over and she prepared to let him go when he abruptly grabbed hold of her jaw, roughly pulling her closer to him.
For a split second, she thought he was going to kiss her, and a gasp of anticipation caught in her throat. But their lips never made contact. He kept her face very close to his, however, the breath of his next words gently fanning against her mouth, the scent clean and minty, with just a touch of whiskey.
"Tread softly around me, Miss Chase," he warned her. "Exercising patience with conceited females has never been a virtue of mine."
She grabbed his offending hand and forcefully removed it from her face, holding his gaze with a fierceness that sent secret shivers down his spine and straight into his cock.
"Says the most arrogant soul on the bridge," and with a shove, she managed to free herself. She immediately placed a good bit of distance between them, still maintaining eye contact, her expression daring him to move. When he didn't, she replied, "Like I said before… hypocrite."
Frankie then straightened her jacket and prepared to move around him so she could head back to the flat, when she noticed something on the other side of the overpass that had her pausing abruptly – a familiar face.
"I don't believe it."
Dracula turned his head to follow her gaze when he noticed Lord Bartos, the council member, walking briskly down the street while looking about nervously.
A movement caught Vlad's attention out of the corner of his eye and he noticed Frankie preparing to chase after the man. He quickly seized her upper arm before she could get too far, forcing her to stop. She instinctually pulled against his grip, but he only held her tighter, grabbing hold of her other arm so her back was against his chest, his clutch forcing her stay put.
"Let me go!" she hissed at him.
"Don't be foolish," he whispered harshly into her ear. "You know as well as I that you are in no condition to take on a council member by yourself."
"You'd be surprised what I could pull off," she muttered, continuing to struggle, but then he wrapped an arm around her, holding her to him.
The feel of his arm around her middle and his hard front at her back quickly put an end to her writhing. But then his lips brushed against the lobe of her ear as he whispered, and Frankie's skin crawled delightfully at his sudden nearness. He was strong – a wall of power and muscle at her back, and while she knew that if any other man had handled her thus, she would have tossed him over the railing and into the river, something about Vlad's hold made her feel steady... safe.
"If you go after him by yourself, your need for revenge will cloud your better judgment and you'll get you and your brother into more trouble than you're already in," he explained roughly, the man having an equal time of it as he desperately tried to ignore how marvelous she felt against him. His face was halfway buried in her soft hair and the aroma of those tantalizing locks and smooth skin reminded him of a rose garden in the middle of summer – sweltering and fragrant. Her scent was intoxicating and he was prepared to let himself indulge a little further in it when his more sensible side urged him to stay focused. "Besides," he added, his tone unintentionally breathy and deep, "in your state, it would be suicide. And your brother would never forgive me if I allowed you to go on your own."
Frankie swallowed hard in an effort to regain her composure before turning her head to look back at him.
Their faces were barely an inch apart as they gazed into each other's eyes, the feeling of his cool breath gently caressing her face sending a small tremor through her sex.
"So what do you propose we do?" she asked him, pretending to be unmoved by their proximity and hoping he hadn't noticed the flicker of lust in her eyes. "Are we supposed to just let him go without some form of interrogation?"
He loosened his grip on her slowly, smirking.
"What do you take me for?" he inquired, mock offense in his tone. "You think I'd deny you your chance at retribution, especially after what that cretin tried to do to Vesper? I'm not completely heartless. We'll both go after him but we will do so my way."
Her brow arched in response, either out of amusement or wonder, he couldn't be sure.
"Your way? And what exactly, Mr. Leinhart, does your way entail?"
"Stalking, ambush, extensive torture, and then we drag him back to your brother for a formal confession."
Realizing he was completely serious, she actually smiled.
He couldn't remember the last time a curve of lip had gratified him so.
"Alright then. We'll do this your way."
Frankie and Vlad had to be careful not to get any blood on their surroundings just in case one of the neighbors decided to report an incident. The two had left the bound and bloody body of an unconscious Lord Bartos hidden in the alley of the apartment complex inside of a sealed dumpster, the blow Dracula had delivered to his neck causing the spine to sever completely. It would take the man a good twenty minutes before he could heal himself, giving them enough time to get upstairs to deliver the news to Rémy. When they reached the front door, Frankie realized she had forgotten her key, so she kicked the door a couple of times to avoid making any unnecessary messes.
"Somebody get the door!" Rémy shouted from within, and the two stood there patiently, waiting to be allowed entrance. Before someone could open the door, Frankie turned to Vlad.
"Just for the record, I still don't like you," she reminded him.
Dracula glanced over at her briefly before returning his attention ahead.
"Have no fear. That feeling remains mutual," he lied with ease.
"Good, just wanted to make sure we were on the same page," and she kicked the door a couple more times.
"Alright! I'm coming!" came the irritated voice of Lily on the other side.
"Oh believe me, madam; we're not only on the same page, but on the very same line."
"Excellent. So forced civility then?"
"They can't expect anything more than that," he replied archly. She nodded.
"I couldn't agree more."
"This agreeing of ours isn't going to become a habit, is it?" he teased.
"I should think not," was her answer. "You having an insatiable need to rescue me on a regular basis, however, is an entirely different matter," and she sent him a mischievous grin that was borderline flirtatious.
"I'll try to work on that."
"Good."
"Although, I must admit that the vision of you torturing Bartos will forever be burned into my memory. Where on earth did you learn to do that thing with the…"
Her smile was positively brilliant as she replied coyly,
"Oh, Mr. Leinhart… the things I could teach you."
The man had no doubt of that, and a growing part of him wondered what else she could teach him – and what he could teach her in return – but before he could offer a reply, the door finally opened, Lily appearing on the other side. When she noticed how the two of them were covered in blood, she gasped and covered her mouth.
"Oh my god!"
Within moments, the entire party of people appeared at the door, everyone speechless as they took in the spectacle. Carmen was the first to speak.
"What the hell happened?"
"We brought you a present," Frankie explained, more cheery in that moment than she had been in years.
"Do I even want to know?" Rémy inquired cautiously.
Dracula motioned with a slight turn of his head.
"If you're not too busy, you may want to follow us outside."
The duo turned at the same time and began to head down stairs.
"Oh, and Rémy, have Lily stay with Vesper," Frankie called behind her. "They don't need to see this."
Rémy gave the order, though the two females protested, and the rest followed the pair down stairs and outside into the neighboring alley. Dracula opened up the lid to a large trash receptacle and reached inside, motioning with merely a look for Frankie to assist him. She reached in as well and with silent consent, the two lifted up what appeared to be a man.
The captive individual groaned as Vlad forced him to his knees, gripping his hair and holding his head still, making sure he was looking forward before Frankie removed the blindfold to reveal the eyes of Bartos.
"Carmen, is this the man that attacked Vesper?"
The Spaniard's lip curled as she snarled, fangs lengthening and she stepped forward. She slapped the man hard across the face, leaving three thin lacerations on his cheek from her nails. Bartos grunted from behind the gag, trying to free himself from Dracula's death grip, but his head wouldn't budge.
"You bastard!" Carmen hissed before kicking him in the ribs. "You fucking bastard! My entire life was in that place and you destroyed it! You destroyed all of it!"
Rémy had to grab hold of her with the assistance of Danny before the woman had the chance to beat the man into a further pulp. She roughly freed herself from their hold when they had put some distance between her and the prisoner, and though she made no attempt to attack him again, her expression was that of utter disgust and rage. She even spat at him.
"Vlad, I'm impressed," Rémy confessed. "I wasn't expecting you to capture him, and in such a timely fashion."
"It was easy," Dracula replied. He would have left it at that; only Frankie sent him a look. "Your sister originally spotted him," he tacked on with exaggerated difficulty, and only because when he did, she stepped closer to him, her gaze full of warning. It took every ounce of self-control to keep from smirking. "And she helped retrieve most of the information which you may find useful," he added. "She also had the presence of mind to record his confession on her mobile, but insisted you'd want to hear the words yourself which is why this piece of filth is still alive." He then turned his attention to Frankie. "There. Is that better, dear?" he asked tartly.
"It will suffice," was her answer. He almost let go of Bartos to properly return her flirtation veiled in spite, but he stayed put when he recalled there were others present. So instead, to help ease some of the tension in him, he tightened his grip on the prisoner's hair. "I believe Lord Bartos has a few words he would like to share with you," Frankie said to her brother, removing the gag from the prisoner's mouth and motioning with her hand for him to speak.
"Rémy Chase, you mother-fucking piece of shit! You won't get away with this!" the councilman shouted. Frankie dug her fingers into his shoulder, gripping the white bone of his exposed collar and he howled in response.
"That is definitely not what you told me," she hissed, kneeling down so she could get to his eye-level. Her stare was dark and penetrating, but the way her irises glowed seemed to intimidate the man and he shuddered underneath her gaze. "Now, try again, my lord, or we can do this the hard way," and she squeezed the bone still in her hand. "I think you still remember what the hard way feels like."
The man hissed beneath her hand and Dracula had to suppress the smile that left his mouth twitching as he watched her. This ruthless dominance of hers was totally doing it for him.
At last, Bartos consented to talk and he looked up at Rémy.
"Did you burn down the Harpy tavern?" Rémy asked calmly, referring to Carmen's establishment. Frankie applied some pressure and Bartos answered immediately through gritted teeth.
"Yes."
"Who sent you?"
"Mary-fucking-Poppins," he snarled. Frankie made a maneuver with her wrist and a loud crack resonated in the air, coupled with a muffled scream as she covered his mouth. She had snapped his collarbone in half and was now holding onto a jagged edge, tugging it slightly.
"Augustine! It was Augustine!" he sobbed, pathetic tears streaming down his filthy face.
"I knew it," someone whispered in the background.
"Why did he send you?" was Rémy's next question. "How did he know?"
"He… he wanted to squeeze you out. We had received reports that there was regular alliance activity in that area. He had us send the originator of those reports – one of the Marx brothers – to run his car into the tavern in hopes of taking as many lives as possible, and then we could cover up the incident as a terrorist attack instigated by you. When I had received news that the incompetent fool had disappeared without completing the job, I convinced his brother to seek revenge and accompanied him to make sure he got the job done."
"And what if Marx had been wrong about who we were? Were you so willing to risk the lives of innocent people on a rumor?"
"We already knew you were involved with the alliance, and that you had been sighted several times at her establishment. We all felt it was worth the cost if it meant taking you down."
Rémy betrayed no sign of concern that his anonymity had been compromised where the alliance was concerned. If anything, he didn't seem surprised – something which secretly concerned his sister because it meant he had known and had kept it from her.
"I have one more question for you," Rémy said as he lowered himself down to meet Bartos' eyes. They were downcast, so he motioned for Vlad to lift his head. Dracula made sure to hold it in place with both hands. "Look at me, Bartos. I don't think you want my sister to break any more bones, though I know she'd love to."
"Oh, she's not the only one," Carmen hissed and Rémy smiled.
"You see? The ladies are just itching to get a piece of you. So, to make sure your death is quick – which is honestly more than you deserve – I'd like you to answer one more question." He paused, making sure he had the man's attention. "What did you want with Vesper?"
"I don't know who that is."
Frankie made a movement to punish the lie, but Rémy held his hand up, motioning for Vlad to take the opportunity. Dracula, who now grinned darkly, slowly squeezed down on the traitorous councilman's skull until he could feel the bone beginning to fracture under the pressure. After a while, the man howled in pain and started to cry once more, but Rémy only looked on with a hardened expression.
"Answer the question," he demanded. "The teenage girl with the curly hair. What did you want with her? ANSWER ME!" he shouted this time.
"She's a dhampir. I could smell it on her," he whimpered.
"So you were going to take her and, what? Bleed her dry?!" Rémy bellowed and he grabbed the man by the throat. "You vile maggot. She is just a child!"
"Children are a delicacy," Bartos spat back venomously. "And young girls like that tend to fetch a prettier price than the average blood whore. Their innocence makes them sweeter… and I know a few men who'd pay a pretty penny to fuck her tight little…"
Before he could finish his depraved taunts, Rémy lost his cool.
With an enraged cry and a burst of inhuman strength, he tore the man's head from his shoulders with his bare hands, the crack of bone and ripping of flesh and ligaments making some a little sick. But the beheading had done its job and Lord Bartos' body fell to the ground as several generations worth of age began to catch up with him until he was little more than blood, ash, and bone.
Silence reigned for several long moments as everyone came to grips with the fact that their leader had just murdered a member of Augustine's council, but there were no looks or words of rebuke. Only those of understanding.
Rémy, still holding the desiccated skull, retrieved a broken pipe from one of the garbage bins and proceeded to use it as a mount. He then gathered Lord Bartos' blood and ash soiled robe and his council ring with a look of dark intent about him.
"Frankie, would you please clean this up? I have something I need to take care of."
Frankie wanted to protest but knew her brother was not to be crossed when he was so clearly on the warpath, so she consented and turned to locate a hose curled up behind some boxes. Carmen stayed behind to help clean up the remains of the deceased council member as the men followed Rémy through the alleyway.
Both women would learn later that evening that Rémy had displayed the head, robe, and ring on the wall of the north district with a note of warning for those enemies of the alliance.
When Rémy finally arrived home just before the sun rose, he was alone. He was only half surprised when he realized that his sister had stayed up to wait for him and he sent the woman a weary smile.
"Where are our guests?" he asked.
"Vesper is asleep in the guest bedroom and Carmen has consented to sleep on a cot in my room."
"Good. Thanks for taking care of the alley."
"You're welcome."
He moved toward the kitchen where a glass of venom-laced whiskey was waiting for him and he downed it in one breath before sighing.
"Rémy?"
"What?"
"How long has Augustine known who you are? That you're tied to the alliance?"
"Not long," he confessed.
"Are we still safe here?"
"Yes."
"How can you know?"
"Well, for starters, he hasn't drawn the connection between Chase and de Chacier, so technically speaking he doesn't know – or rather, he's unaware of our connection. Besides, he has no proof that you're even still alive and if he did, Bartos would have come to our door, not Carmen's."
Frankie naturally didn't like the sound of that.
"You should have told me."
"I didn't want you to worry over nothing."
"It's never nothing if Augustine is involved."
Rémy sighed.
"I know. I'm sorry… Seems Lyra was right. I keep screwing things up… putting you in danger. I didn't even hear you leave the flat."
She stood from her seat on the sofa and joined him in the kitchen.
"I'm sneaky."
He chuckled a little pathetically.
"My sister, the ninja." He poured himself a second helping of liquor and knocked it back. "So Leinhart, huh?"
Frankie shrugged.
"He's observant. An ass, but perceptive – I'll grant him that much."
"What were you doing out with him anyway?"
"He followed me."
Rémy arched a brow in disbelief.
"Why?"
"Along with being unusually attentive, the man appears to have a savior complex. Seems pretty severe. Could prove fatal."
Her teasing had been meant to deflect her brother's suspicion and it worked. He laughed.
"He's a good man. I hope the two of you have moved passed your differences?"
"When he gets on his knees and begs, I'll consider it," Frankie replied, patting him on the back as she turned to make her way to her bedroom.
"You're terrible, Francesca!" he called out to her, chuckling, but she waved his accusation off as she kept walking.
"It's part of my charm. Good night, brother."
Whew! You made it! Here - have a Dracula-shaped cookie.
I know that chapter was a long one, but I'd love to get your thoughts, reactions, etc. if you would be so kind! Thank you for stopping by to read the latest installment! Wishing you all a wonderful week ahead, and please don't forget to leave a review! ;) I love them so...