A thousand apologies for the delayed update! As mentioned previously, I was traveling most of today. Only just got home. But here's the promised chapter...
Many thanks to Scarlet Empress, She-Devil Red, Arwen17evenstar, Aegystine Valeska, RavenHuffle and cneajna for reviewing! Seriously, you guys are phenomenal.
This installment brings us another Dracul Sânge interview, so grab a snack and your favorite beverage, because it's is gonna be a long one. Niklaus is the youngest living blood-bound "son" of Dracula, and while quite different from Jack, he still holds a very special place in my heart. I hope you're able to vibe with him.
Dracula shows up for a hot minute, too, near the start - if that's of interest to you ;)
CW/TW: discussions and references to emotional abuse, miscarriage, and suicidal tendencies
Copyright © 2021 TSM. All rights reserved.
Chapter 13
Niklaus Van Der Au
Frankie secretly regretted saying anything to Carmen come the following evening. Although her friend meant well in wanting to discuss the topic of Vlad Leinhart further, she didn't quite know when to let it go. What Frankie needed right now was the chance to process her own feelings alone for a time, not talk herself in circles.
In an effort to avoid the discussion altogether, Frankie eventually took to spending the majority of her time in her old office in the north district at the VNN building, immersing herself in preparations for her next interview. She had of course insisted to both Rémy and Carmen that she had done this so she could work undistracted – which had some validity to it – but the real reason had to do with her need to avoid Leinhart for a while.
The man was always over nearly every evening and at Rémy's invitation. In fact, the flat was regularly invaded, as it had become the place to congregate since Carmen's was gone and the new establishment wouldn't be ready for some weeks. It was frustrating, not being able to exist comfortably in her own home, but there was nothing to be done. So for the next ten days, Frankie was scarcely seen, only ever returning to the flat once she could be certain the coast was clear.
As the Leinhart-free days progressed and her general distraction with work increased, Frankie found herself dwelling on the man and her attraction to him less and less until the day her next interview had arrived.
A couple of hours before she would have to leave for the old Hungarian Parliament building, she was in her bedroom, making the necessary preparations – organizing notes, taking inventory of her items, and finding an appropriate outfit. She was just adding the finishing touches to the evening's ensemble when Rémy entered her room.
She acknowledged his presence with a barely-there smile as she pulled her hair back into a low ponytail.
"You look nice," he offered.
"Thank you."
Her voice was soft, distracted and even a little distant.
"I've asked Lyra to go with you, if that's ok."
"That's fine," she responded civilly, but her cordiality seemed to rub her brother wrong because he suddenly snapped.
"Frankie, for God's sake!" and he exhaled loudly. She sent him a bewildered look.
"What?"
"You're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"The silent treatment thing. You know how much I hate that."
She rolled her eyes, gathering up the rest of her things before pulling on the leather jacket she had laid out on the bed.
"I'm not giving you the silent treatment, Rémy. I just have nothing to say."
"Bullshit. You're angry with me, aren't you?"
"I'm not angry with you," she assured him calmly.
"Yes, you are!" he insisted. "For crying out loud, Frank, can't you just yell at me and be done with it? I'm tired of feeling guilty all the time. You're never home; if you do talk it's always in that detached ice-queen tone; you're always working or taking long walks or on one of your charitable runs…"
"You aren't seriously going to judge me for visiting the less-fortunate, are you?"
"No… although I don't see why you insist on doing it. Those blood-capsules are expensive as it is and you give them out like free candy."
"Those vampires are starving, Reynaud…"
"So are you, technically," he muttered and she sent him a hard look. "Fine – whatever. I won't tell you how to spend your money… but I really can't take you being this distant, Frank. Leinhart can get better responses out of you – not that it matters because you're avoiding him like the plague, too."
Frankie exhaled through her nose, closing her eyes for a moment to center herself. The mention of that man's name sent her stomach fluttering with butterflies. But she couldn't let her brother see that, so once she had steadied her nerves a little better, she returned his gaze and asked,
"What do you want me to say?"
"I just… I don't know what I want," he groaned in defeat after a while, sitting on the edge of her bed.
"You know how I feel about my space," she reminded him as she took a seat beside him.
"But you're the one who invited Carmen and Vesper to stay with us."
"Because they had nowhere else to go. I wasn't going to leave them on the street at the mercy of our enemies. They get a free pass. Danny, Lily, Morene, and Leinhart, however, do not."
"Is Vlad the reason why you've been MIA lately? I mean, come on, Frankie, he's not the first man to question your motives." She scoffed at that. "Why do you hate him so much anyway?"
Frankie stood.
"I don't hate him. I don't know him well enough to hate him. I just… I don't know. I feel like he's hiding something; something important… I don't know what it is or if it even matters, but I feel it in my bones."
Rémy snorted back a laugh.
"You're joking, right?" The looks she sent him suggested otherwise. "Frank – trust me, he's not keeping anything important from us. We've already had him vetted…"
"Then vet him again! Dig deeper… or better still, call in a favor with the Feng twins and see if one of their shadows can uncover anything."
"Are you sure this paranoia of yours isn't being informed by your not-so-secret and completely unfounded bias toward the man?"
She glowered.
"Okay, first of all – it's not unfounded. Vlad Leinhart is an arrogant, presumptuous, hypocritical…"
"You're being dramatic."
"You heard what he said to me a week and a half ago!"
"He doesn't know you, Frank. He made a mistake and he apologized for his misjudgment."
"True – but he also said what he did to get a rise out of me."
"Well, it worked, evidently – which takes us back to my original point…"
"I don't have to like all of your friends, Rémy. It's not as if you like all of mine," she argued.
"Fair, but I also don't make it a point to turn the rest of our mutual acquaintance against Lyra, now do I? I don't know what you told Carmen, but she won't even look Vlad in the eye anymore," he pointed out.
"I didn't tell her anything," she lied. "Besides, what does it matter? The rest of you are all infatuated with him."
"Frankie..." he groaned dramatically, exhaling a slew of curses under his breath as he begged the Lord for patience – clearly wishing to be done with this discussion.
"You're the one who brought this whole thing up," she reminded him. "Look, my interview is in less than an hour. There's nothing you can say that will make me like or trust Leinhart – that ball is entirely in his court. So can you and I at least just… leave on good terms? I respect that he's your friend and it's clear there's nothing I can say or do to change that… so just… leave me to my avoidance and forced civility and be grateful I haven't tried to kill him yet. Hmm?" and she sent him a teasing smile. He nodded in defeat.
"Alright, you win."
"Thank you." She then gathered up the bag that held her equipment, and she placed the straps over her shoulder. "Is that all?"
"Yeah. Lyra is outside waiting for you," and he opened the door, motioning for her to exit. She complied and he followed her out. "Oh, and before I forget. This is for you." He handed her what looked like a syringe. It was filled with a familiar looking substance, neon violet in color. "I finally got around to making some more – so we don't have another Jack Belinskaya episode." She thanked him with a nod of her head before placing the syringe into her bag. "Have Lyra administer it to you after the interview. The sooner, the better. It's like the stuff we used before, but I made this a higher concentration so it'll kick in faster."
"Sometimes I think Victor Frankenstein should have been named after you instead," she said with a laugh. "My brother, the mad scientist."
"Hey, everybody's got to have a hobby. Unstable chemicals are just one of mine."
They made their way down the hall and into the main area of the flat where Vesper was situated comfortably on the sofa watching TV as Carmen lingered at dining room table, looking over a catalogue of potential furnishings. After bidding everyone good night, Frankie quickly rushed out the door, recalling that she had less than an hour to get to her destination.
As she began to descend the first flight of stairs, she nearly lost her footing when Leinhart unexpectedly came into view. They both stopped dead in their tracks when they noticed one another, eyes meeting, the tension between them instant and palpable.
Frankie went a little rigid as she fought to keep her expression as impassive as humanly possible.
Dracula's reaction was almost identical to hers as he looked up at her, fifteen steps away – and yes, he had counted them.
In fact, he was struggling to maintain a façade of composure as his eyes helplessly raked up and down her figure, drinking her in, certain not to miss a single detail. It had been a long ten days since he had seen her last and just when he thought he was starting to get comfortable sitting in her flat every evening, seeing her now only made things difficult all over again.
She looked like something out a dream, donning a fitted dark navy blue dress, the hem of the skirt snug as it lingered mid-thigh, long legs in a pair of sheer, black nylons that only served to make the stems more appealing to the eye. The leather of her jacket added a tasteful edge to her look and he found himself approving of her appearance in an unexpected yet profound way.
She had never been more visually appealing, which now left him wondering where she was going, who she was meeting… who she had dressed up for.
He addressed her softly, his tone purposefully disinterested in an effort to conceal his own private longing.
Frankie almost forgot how to speak entirely and it was humiliating, standing there, unable to tear her eyes from him. Good lord, that man knew how to wear a suit – and if the dark colors weren't enough to do him justice, the way the buttons of his dress shirt strained to stay fastened over his broad chest was enough to make her knees weak. She swallowed hard in an effort to remoisten her suddenly dry throat before she returned his greeting, careful to mirror his tone.
"Good evening, Mr. Leinhart."
"Where are you off to?" he inquired as casually as possible.
"I'm meeting someone," she answered truthfully.
"Then I better not keep you," and he moved to the side, giving her enough room to pass him on the steps.
She hesitated for a moment, but quickly collected herself, holding her head high in a desperate attempt to avoid any further eye contact, but all it did was afford him a better view of her throat. When she passed by, Dracula's senses were assaulted by the scent of roses and summertime, a wave of perfumed air that filled his lungs and shot a pleasurable shock of electricity all the way down to his pelvis. His fingers twitched, yearning to touch this creature who felt so beyond his reach, but instead he gripped the handrail at his side – knuckles white as he struggled to suppress his baser instincts.
When she was gone, he finally released the breath he had been holding, shaking off that tingling sensation that had washed over his flesh. He stole one final glance down the stairwell just in time to see her brunette head step out of sight and when she disappeared, he quietly uttered an oath before continuing up to the apartment.
Lyra chose to wait in at a pub neighboring the old Parliament building, leaving Frankie to walk the rest of the way on her own.
The towering structure had once been the most iconic building in Budapest, but now it lingered in the shadows of modern skyscrapers and apartment towers that easily dwarfed this piece of ancient history with their sheer size. To Frankie, however, none of the more modern buildings would ever come close to matching the breathtaking beauty of the neo-gothic architecture before her.
The Hungarian Parliament Building had once been the seat of the National Assembly of Hungary – before the city and surrounding area had been claimed as a refuge for the supernatural community. The edifice was one of Europe's oldest legislative buildings, a notable landmark of Hungary until the wars, diseases, and famine of the last century had wiped out nearly three-quarters of the human population. Now the structure had been abandoned for more spacious and ostentatious structures on the other side of the river in the northern district of the city, leaving this and its sister buildings as forgotten shadows in Budapest's history.
Frankie stood outside in the courtyard for a moment or two, taking a few extended seconds to admire the dark beauty of the place. A Renaissance-styled dome crowned the neo-Gothic façade, all resting on a Baroque-base ground. The main cupola was decorated with beautiful statues of the Hungarian kings of old, princes and military commanders, while fierce turul birds guarded one of the entrances.
In the center of the building, along the Kossuth Lajos tér, was the main entrance, flanked by bronze lions. As she approached the immortalized beasts, Frankie noticed a shadowed figure leaning against one of the statues. She could tell that he was watching her from a distance, and it took some focusing on her part to recognize who the man was –
Niklaus Van Der Au – one of the Dracul Sânge and the youngest blood-bound son of Vladislaus Dracula.
His hair was thick, wavy, and a rich dark blonde, several shades darker than his elder brother's. Large eyes centered in his face, a bit of scruff littering his angular jaw and upper lip, giving him a charmingly rugged look. He must have just recognized her because he turned to face her fully and offered a low bow with a noticeable curve on his lips.
Amused by the action, Frankie couldn't help but match his crooked smile as she continued to advance, entering the shadows of the abandoned building until she stood closer to him, able to get a better look. He had dark, shapely brows over his eyes, and that gaze of his seemed more penetrating up close than it had been just moments ago. Like his brother had been, Niklaus was picturesque; an epitome of raw masculinity.
He offered his hand to her as if to shake it.
"Francesca."
When their hands met, he flipped hers over, bringing her knuckles to his lips, but never touching them and she smiled, delighted to find the man just as old-fashioned in his sensibilities as Jack had been.
"It is a pleasure to meet you at last."
"The pleasure is all mine, Niklaus."
Merciful heavens, his eyes were breathtaking! Two pools of brilliant azure, the gaze sharp and alert like a hawk, as if nothing could escape his notice.
"I was beginning to worry some ill fate had met you. Jack had mentioned how you had arrived early when the two of you had met. I was hoping for the same privilege, but it would appear you are only just on time."
"I apologize for that."
"I didn't mention it to make you feel guilty," he assured her, his smile a little sheepish. "I'm just selfish. In truth, I admire your punctuality. You are exactly on time." He turned and motioned toward the boarded front entrance of the building. "Shall we venture inside so we may begin?"
Frankie nodded and took his offered arm.
Niklaus had previously removed some of the boards of a broken window so they were able to enter without too much difficulty. The fact that they were trespassing on government property sent a slight thrill through the woman as the man at her side led her into the main foyer.
It had been many years since she had been in here and she took a private moment to soak in her surroundings, attempting to recall what the building had looked like when she had last seen it in its prime.
The high hall beneath the dome had once been decorated with the coats of arms of the former Hungarian counties. Those had since been removed. On the heads of the sixteen clustered pillars, the statues of Hungarian rulers could still be seen, though their detail had diminished with time and lack of care. But the room remained symmetrically arranged, just as she had remembered it, although most of the old furnishings, paintings, and tapestries were all either missing or damaged and the walls looked naked without the original décor. Frankie would never understand why Augustine had refused to preserve Hungary's most famous landmark – or any of the others, for that matter.
Vampires at their best made wonderful historians, lovers and preservers of antiquity. Clearly the city's current ruler did not share the same respect for the past as many of his contemporaries did.
"It's tragic, isn't it?" Niklaus asked her, as if he had read her thoughts. "Father would be devastated if he knew."
Frankie offered no reply as he led her over to the grand stairwell that had once been lavished with crimson carpet and gold leaf lamps. The beauty of the staircases had rotted away with time, but the domed ceilings up above were still a wonder to behold. The pair stopped halfway up the stairs, both gazing up at the painted frescoes in silence.
Moonlight streamed in from the dusty and broken stained glass windows, offering a bit of light to the gloom of the room. Frankie released a heavy sigh as she turned to face Niklaus once more.
"I think this is a suitable location, don't you?"
He nodded in agreement and motioned for her to sit before he joined her, watching with curiosity as she removed some of her equipment. She noted the faint amusement on his face when she removed her recorder and she met him with an arched look.
"Jack wasn't kidding when he said you documented every single word," he chuckled.
"And I take notes," she added, revealing her notepad and pen as she leaned against the marble banister so she could face him better.
"Why bother – if you're just going to be sucking out my memories anyway?"
She almost corrected his choice of words but decided against it, offering a shrug instead.
"I'm rather old-fashioned at heart," she admitted. "I'd prefer to establish a rapport with you, if you have no objections. Absorbing your memories and then departing without sharing some kind of conversation or even an instant of mutual vulnerability would make this whole thing rather impersonal, wouldn't you agree?"
"I would."
"Besides," she continued, "I've found that sometimes talking about the past can be beneficial – not that I'm suggesting that you need to talk, but if you'd like to, I'd be more than happy to listen."
"Do you practice what you preach?" he inquired with a knowing look and she glanced down at the notebook on her lap.
"No, not as often as I perhaps should," she answered truthfully. "Before we begin, I don't know what you've heard, or what your brother has told you, but I want you to… to understand something about me," and she looked up at him. He was watching her carefully, the moonlight creating small shadows on his face. "What I've… what I have experienced is…"
She paused, trying to find the right words.
"My past is complicated," she said after some deliberation. "It is complicated and dark and there are some things that, quite honestly, I am not eager to revisit. They are too painful and the emotions involved still hold a great deal of power. I haven't found the right person to talk to about my past with the openness and candor those events warrant, someone with whom I can feel wholly safe with. Because of this, yes, I do still harbor some of the negative feelings that were instilled in me long ago. I suppose I haven't felt secure enough to sit with my reservations and demons long enough to provide them catharsis. But I want you to know that I don't… I don't hate your father. I hold some resentment toward him, but in truth, this entire situation is awkward for me. I hope that makes sense… and that you can at least appreciate where I'm coming from in all of this."
"I do."
"And I hope you know that I am doing my very best to approach this opportunity with an open mind. It's just difficult. So please forgive me if I do or say something that offends."
"Francesca, you have no reason to apologize for the way you feel. We can't help our feelings – they just are. It's what we do that really matters, and you being here in the first place speaks volumes to your character. It is as you said – your past experience has left you with prejudices you have yet to work through. I can empathize with that. Although, now that you've said these things, it makes me wonder – you said you haven't found someone you could wholly trust with the intimate details of your past. And yet, there's such an openness about you."
His eyes narrowed a little his expression turned more scrutinizing.
"Why are you so easy to be around?" he asked suddenly. She expected him to accompany the question with a teasing smile, but he didn't. He was being completely serious. "I've been in your presence for maybe five minutes, and I feel like I can trust you with not just my life, but my immortal soul. Jack had confessed to having a similar feeling when he told us about his interview with you."
"He did?"
"Yes. I'll admit, I was rather skeptical of his story at first and I almost didn't come tonight."
Frankie started the recorder with as much subtlety as she could as to not disrupt the flow of their conversation before responding herself.
"Why did you come tonight?" she asked him. He leaned forward on the steps, his elbows resting on his knees as his fingers lightly stroked his lips in a thoughtful manner.
"Because I don't think you fully understand what you mean to us," he finally said. The man's gaze was penetrating and Frankie could almost feel the weight of it pressing into her skin. "You have no idea who you are to us, what you are capable of becoming."
"And who am I to you, Niklaus?"
The intensity in his countenance only increased with each passing moment.
"You are the undying bride of the dragon," he answered with surprising ardor. "Mariella saw something in you the night she prophesied of your union with my father, and while I can appreciate your motive for caution, I'm not quite convinced you presently grasp the influence you have had on the lives you have touched, the effect you will continue to have as events begin to unfold. You have so much potential in you, Francesca…" his voice drifted off for a moment as he continued to hold her gaze, clearly moved by what he saw in her eyes. "And you don't even see it… you can't see it. Not with all that fear in the way."
There was a moment of poignant silence between them that seemed to last for minutes – maybe even hours, she could hardly tell. But Frankie couldn't seem to look away or disrupt whatever was happening between them. She had felt awkward at first as he kept her gaze, but the longer she looked, the easier it was to get lost in those swirling pools of blue until the unease dispelled and in its place grew an intimacy she had never felt before.
Frankie felt overwhelmingly maternal all of a sudden as cares and concerns that were foreign to her began to move slowly through her body. Her hand seemed to rise without her permission as she reached across the way and touched his face with tenderness. She finally noticed the tears that had been welling in his eyes and she felt the weight of his presence lighten tremendously, as if she had known him the whole of her life.
The look in Niklaus's eyes turned from intense knowing to utter bewilderment. It was very evident that neither of them understood what was transpiring between them, the sudden and inexplicable connection, but the impact on their individual persons was overwhelming and soon Niklaus had reached for her hand and he squeezed it tightly.
"I don't know why, but I trust you," he whispered softly. "I'm not sure if it's your eyes or something else at play, but… but when I look at you, it's almost as if I can see him."
"Dracula?"
He nodded.
"You'd complement each other rather effortlessly, I think..." he added, still studying whatever it was he saw in her eyes. His expression took on a kind of lightness to it, a twinkle in his countenance as the corner of his lips twitched upward a little. "Yes… your darkness is very reminiscent of his own."
Frankie hardly knew what to say.
For as long as she could remember, her role in that prophecy, her being destined for Dracula – she had spent so much of the latter half of her existence running from it, from him. That fate had always felt more like a curse than anything else, but in this moment it seemed less confining and more ennobling than it ever had previously – the suggestion that the most powerful vampire in existence might understand her darkness, the shadows in her soul. It was an exhilarating and terrifying thought – that someone like him would be able to see her, to know her in a way no one else had ever been able to. While she wasn't ready to fully embrace the possibility just yet, she was more open to the suggestion in that very instant than she had ever been in the whole of her life.
Usually, right about now, she'd be running away from that feeling, for fear of being overcome by it. But there was something about the trust and faith in Niklaus' eyes that made her want to believe, just as he did.
"Shall we begin?" he asked after releasing her hand and Frankie nodded, watching as he turned away to stare off into the distance. "My name is Niklaus Van Der Au. I was born in the year 1867 in a small German village of little consequence. I was an only child and was raised chiefly by my mother. I received my primary education at a local school where I was taught to read and write. I never really got along with any of the children my own age, so my studies occupied most of my time, something my mother encouraged. The only thing I ever received from my mortal father was the ability to defend myself physically. He was a brutal instructor and made no effort to show me kindness. He insisted that the world was cruel and the only way I would survive in it is if I was cruel in return. By the time I was ten years old, the neighborhood boys had nicknamed me dragon."
"Rather on the nose," Frankie replied with a slight chuckle.
"Yes, and oddly prophetic, although I wouldn't meet Dracula until some years later. My mother died when I was fourteen and I was left to the care of my father who had been emotionally absent for most of my life until that point. Her death took its toll on both of us and instead of growing closer as is usually the case in these situations, we became more estranged. As I became more accustomed to his business of trade, he grew less inclined to work and more inclined to drink at all hours of the day. We travelled through much of the continent together, but it was a lonely existence – being forced to attend to the man who had brought me into the world but cared little for my presence in it. The only source of consolation I received was in books. At one point, we were traveling in the eastern portion of the Alps when I had my first encounter with the tales of Transylvania and the living dead that haunted the forests of the Carpathians."
"Did you learn about Dracula around this time?"
"Not yet. He was not yet famous amongst the living. In fact, he wouldn't be until the publication of Stoker's novel. I remember we all had a good laugh when that book came out," he replied with a smile. "It was around this time when not only was my fascination in vampire mythology born, but I also happened upon the love of my life."
"And who was that?"
"Her name was Emma. She was the daughter of a wealthy merchant from England and had taken it into her head to go exploring the continent with some friends. She and her companions travelled with us for a time through the mountains on our way to Italy. Our first encounter was in a small town in the Alps, and it was painfully awkward," he explained with a slight laugh. "I was about nineteen at the time, and certainly not the most socially adept individual, but she took pity on me and was never anything but kind."
"How long did you two travel together?"
"A week or two until we reached Rome. I managed to convince my father to let us stay in the city for a time so Emma and I could meet in secret during her stay there. The connection between us was undeniable and we were wont to risk life and limb to spend even just five minutes in each other's company. I remember one afternoon when she was supposed to be touring the Pantheon with her chaperone, we were instead tucked away in some dark corner."
"Up to no good, I imagine," Frankie said with a knowing smile. He grew a little bashful.
"Absolutely no good," he confirmed. "Her chaperone discovered us and threatened to expose our immorality, but Emma – oh that woman – she was all fire and stubbornness, and that night, she escaped from her hotel and met me at the inn I was staying in. We made plans to elope at the end of the week, both gathering what money and possessions were ours in secret and without even uttering a word of explanation to my own father, Emma and I were married and out of the city before Sunday mass. We honeymooned at an inn near Bracciano."
"Isn't that that beautiful little Italian town with the castle and the lake?"
"Yes – Castello Orsini-Odescalchi."
"How long did you stay there?"
"Three nights, and then we made our way northward back into the mountains."
"How did you live?"
"We travelled for a time, slowly making our way up through the Italian peninsula, and then into the Alps. When we had crossed over into Germany, Emma learned she was with child, so we settled in Munich for a time so I could find work."
"It must have been nice, being back home in your native country."
"It was," he admitted. "We were very happy, anxious for her to deliver. But when the time came, the child – a boy – was stillborn."
The joy that had softened the features of Niklaus' face fell as his brows furrowed, eyes darkening with disappointment and Frankie felt something knot in her stomach as a familiar sadness washed over her.
"We were naturally devastated," he continued. "Emma was inconsolable for nearly two days as she wept and apologized profusely, insisting she had failed me. I could not blame her for what had happened, though – how could I? Children die of natural causes all the time and I knew that we were young; she could conceive again when the time was right, but in that moment nothing could comfort her."
"Did you stay by her side?"
"Of course I did!" Niklaus exclaimed, a little affronted by the suggestion that he would have done otherwise. "She was my whole life! I was grieved for the loss of our child, but I loved her more than any son or daughter she could have given me."
Niklaus finally took a moment to study the woman at his side and he noticed something in her eyes that had not been there before. There was a profound sadness in Frankie's expression, her gaze glossed over in memory.
"What is it?"
"Nothing," she insisted with what smile she could manage and she flicked a tear away before it could reach her cheekbone, but Niklaus knew better.
"You've lost a child, too," he pointed out knowingly. "Tell me."
"There's not much to tell," she admitted. "When I was mortal, I was married to a man who I thought loved me. He wanted an heir more than anything in the world and when I couldn't give him what he sought, I soon realized what kind of man he was."
"He blamed you, didn't he?"
It was clear from the look in her eyes that he had done far more than merely blame her, but Frankie only nodded.
"I'm sorry," she apologized, shaking off her sadness. "It was a long time ago – but I know exactly what your Emma went through… she was very lucky to have you for a husband. I'm sure your support was invaluable to her."
He smiled.
"It was I who was fortunate to have her as a wife," he insisted. "She gave up her friends and family, her comfort and livelihood, even her country – all to be with me. She was everything to me and I to her."
"You two were very blessed in your marriage, then."
"We did not make those vows lightly," Niklaus explained. "I recognize that I've really only given you the simpler details of our relationship and certainly from that point of view, it may seem as though we rushed into things, but I loved Emma with my whole soul. When I swore to love her for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, I meant every word. There was nothing more important to me than her happiness."
"Did she ever heal?"
"Does a mother ever truly heal when she loses her child?" he asked with a knowing look.
"We try to," Frankie admitted, "though I suppose some losses stay with us forever."
"So it was with my Emma. She was strong and brave, and we managed to move on from the tragedy, but the pain did linger. I did my best to help distract her from it. It was all I could do."
"But you made the effort and that's what counts," she said. "I can't even begin to tell you how many men I've known in my time who were too proud to even do that."
"I did my best," and his smile became a little sheepish. "About a year later, Emma and I decided to travel again. My business in Munich had prospered and we were both in need of a change of scenery."
"Where did you go?"
"Vienna. We spent much of 1887 in that city and it was arguably one of the happiest years of our marriage. We enjoyed the best society had to offer, attending plays, concerts, exhibitions. It was an expensive year, but worth every penny."
"Is it here that you met Dracula?"
"Yes, it was. We met at some assembly or ball. I had never been much of a dancer, but Emma was. The woman that Father was with that evening had mentioned her admiration for Emma's gown and as the ladies discussed fashion, Dracula and I fell into an easy conversation."
"Who was the woman?" Frankie inquired, trying not to sound too curious but the suspicious smirk on Niklaus' face illustrated his amusement.
"No one of consequence, I assure you," he promised. "We only saw her a couple of times and then she disappeared altogether from his life after a handful of weeks."
"Just another inconsequential paramour, then?"
"I wouldn't be so hasty to pass judgment, Francesca. I have it on very good authority that you were no better around that time," Niklaus said with a laugh. "Only instead of taking Europe by storm, it was America."
"I don't know where you heard such a scandalous falsehood," she proclaimed, a twinkle in her eye. "Anyways, we're not here to discuss my past, but yours."
"Yes, yes, of course."
And so Niklaus continued on in his tale, detailing the intricacies of his acquaintance and then developing friendship with Vladislaus Dracula, the things they discussed, the bond that was soon created, the way in which Niklaus had come to view the man as not only a dear friend and confidant, but as the father he had never really had.
When the two had finally parted company at the end of Dracula's stay in Vienna, he had given Niklaus instructions on how to reach him, should he ever need anything in the future.
"I didn't think much of it at the time," he admitted, "but there was a solemnity in his tone when he had bidden Emma and I farewell, as if he knew or could sense something that neither of us could. I did not see him for two years after that. Emma and I returned to Germany where we lived happy and undisturbed for that time. She even conceived again, after we had all but reconciled ourselves to the notion that we would never have children of our own. But in late December of 1889, shortly after Christmas, she went into labor a month early."
He paused in his tale for a moment, his emotions clearly getting the better of him.
"She was in labor for nearly forty-eight hours. The physician tried to turn the baby around so she could deliver him naturally, but nothing worked. The infant – a girl this time – died in the womb and my Emma followed shortly after. After burying my wife and daughter, I left Munich with only the clothes on my back."
"Where did you go?"
"I went in search of Dracula. I had only an address – a set of apartments in Prague. He was not there when I first arrived, but the butler had apparently been given my name, so I was permitted entry with every assurance that Dracula would be there to receive me the following evening. When he did arrive, I couldn't speak for nearly an hour, but he remained at my side, waiting patiently for my explanation. I told him Emma had died and that I had a favor to ask of him."
"And what favor was that?"
"I wanted him to kill me."
Francesca made no effort to hide the astonishment in her countenance.
"What did he say?"
"Nothing at first," Niklaus admitted. "Initially, I thought it was because I had surprised him with my request, but I came to learn later that it was because he was contemplating on what to do. When he finally replied, he stated that he would not kill me. His refusal wounded me and I'll never forget the way I fell to my knees at his feet as I begged him to reconsider so I could be reunited with my loved ones, but still he refused me. I tried reminding him of the promise he had made me, that if I needed anything, all I had to do was ask, but I wasn't asking him. I realized that some years later. I was begging, willfully submitting myself to his will.
"I remember he stood there for a long time, just watching me as I tore myself apart. I never did look at his face to take in his reaction to my plight, but for the next two hours, he remained with me, hand firmly on my shoulder as he tried to talk me out of suicide. It took a good many arguments and a great deal of patience on his part, but what ended up convincing me was when he pointed out that my death would not absolve me of my pain. All it would do is transfer the weight over to those I left behind. When I told him that I had no one left in my life who cared for my well-being, he rather staunchly pointed out that I had him and that he had lost more than I could have ever imagined and had no intention of losing anyone else, but in that moment it was not enough.
"He must have recognized that because then he changed his tactic. He agreed to take my life from me on the condition that I first do something for him. I agreed without even hearing the terms and the following evening I was introduced to Antón Bernardini and what compromised of the Dracul Sânge at the time – Zeke, Jack, and Louise. Dracula introduced them as his wards – which I found odd at first because he only looked to be maybe 10 or so years older than they were. But per our agreement, I was to spend the next two weeks in their company. I was not to keep my feelings to myself, but had been instructed to be open and honest in my suffering and if I still wished to die by the time this trial period was over, my wish would be granted."
"Naturally, because you're sitting here with me, I think it's safe to say that you ended up changing your mind?" Frankie assumed.
"Yes," he answered with a thoughtful expression, visibly recalling the events. "My days comprised of rigorous combat training during the day – the exercise meant to provide an outlet for my internal turmoil – and then counseling in the evening. At first, I only really talked to Father and Uncle Antón, the latter being not only an exceptional listener, but a brilliant psychologist. His understanding of the human mind, of the study of psychology, emotions, what I was going through… and the tools he gave me for grappling with my grief – they all proved instrumental in my mental and emotional recovery. When our nightly session would conclude, if I wasn't too exhausted, I would spend time with Jack, Louise, or Zeke – exchanging experiences, getting to know each of them better. Overtime, I learned that they all had suffered in their own way, but had found respite in their association with Dracula. Jack quickly became one of my closest friends and though the pain I felt at losing Emma was still poignant, being surrounded by people who seemed to genuinely care for my well-being helped ease the burden."
"I had never had much of a family," Niklaus continued, "but in a fortnight, I suddenly had something to live for – people I cared about and who cared for me in return. When the time had come for me to make my decision – death or life – Dracula offered an additional choice for me to consider."
"Immortality," Frankie guessed.
"Not just that, but a coveted position in an elite organization of warriors – the same that Zeke, Jack, and Louise were a part of. I'm not sure if Jack told you this, but the Dracul Sânge actually started out as an exclusive and highly coveted ranking of men and women among our kind. Similar to a king's guard, but something more. It wasn't until around that time, at the turn of the nineteenth century, that the Dracul Sânge took on the connotation it has now, where each member was adopted into Father's bloodline as his heirs. So when the position was offered to me, it wasn't just to fight for him. He was offering me a place in his family – as a blood-bound son."
Niklaus paused, clearly overcome with emotion as he recalled the events, the honor.
"He saved me. Dracula saved my life. I wanted nothing more than to die, to be buried alongside my Emma, but instead he gave me new purpose on his battlefield – the king's battlefield – and a chosen place at his side, a part of his family. After offering me the position, he allowed Bernardini, Jack, and the others to explain what it was that they were as one of the undying, careful to ensure that I had all the facts so I could make an informed decision. Naturally, my main concern was for the welfare of my soul, as I felt that damning myself would separate me from Emma forever, but the truth of it was that as much as I loved and missed her, I no longer wished to die. I asked for a moment alone to ponder the decision and in that moment of solitude I spoke to the silence as I had been in the habit of doing, convinced that Emma was there, that she could hear me. I asked her what I should do, if I should accept Dracula's offer."
"Did she reply?"
"Yes," Niklaus said, the answer surprising Frankie, but then he elaborated. "When I made the decision in my heart to become one of the undead, it was strange, but I felt more at peace in that moment than I had since the loss of my wife."
He then proceeded to describe the events of his turning, what had transpired and the sensations and emotions that were present.
The way he explained the event was explicit and it made Frankie shudder slightly as she imagined what his transformation had felt like. Apparently it had been a bit more difficult than anyone had anticipated. Niklaus's appetite for blood proved insatiable during the first couple months of his transition and it took him a while to control his bloodlust.
For the next few of hours, he detailed the subsequent decades of his life, his time with the Dracul Sânge, how close they had all become, the adventures they would go on when Dracula was off doing his own thing.
Frankie asked him a few questions here and there, but for the most part, just as she had with Jack, she found herself content in merely listening. Niklaus's life proved heartbreaking and inspiring all at once. His descriptions of some of the battles and wars he had participated in later in life were incredible and she soon discovered that he had a streak of military genius about him – much like his adopted father.
He confessed to having several lovers as the centuries went on, but they had all paled in comparison to his Emma and he had since given up any hope of finding a truer mate. By the end of the interview, Frankie found herself moved in ways she had not anticipated and it took her a few moments to compose herself.
"Suddenly some of my own hardships seem a little less when compared to yours," she laughed, brushing away a tear that had started to tumble down her cheek. Niklaus smiled affectionately and squeezed her knee.
"Don't compare your trials to mine, Francesca," he said in earnest. "We are two different people and our experiences affect us differently."
"True. I just know what it's like," she insisted, "to have love and then to lose it."
He noticed the sorrow behind her affectionate smile and he quickly slid over next to her and wrapped an arm around her, bringing her close to him. Frankie refused to fully give way to her tears, but it was nice to have someone holding her.
"Being lonely in our prolonged existences is a trial, but we can be made better for it," he whispered to her, kissing the top of her head as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "You will find love again, and when you do, nothing that came before will matter," and he tenderly took her chin so he could lift her gaze back up to him. "You think you have loved deeply, Francesca, but I have a sneaking suspicion that you have barely scratched the surface. Trust me. When you experience true love, you'll know it, and there will be no doubt in your mind." His smile widened slightly. "But you don't believe me just yet."
She chuckled slightly.
"No, not really, as much as I may wish to."
"It's alright. Father is very much the same way."
Frankie's recoiled a little at that out of instinct and Niklaus flushed rather sheepishly.
"Sorry, I completely forgot. You still don't like him – and you had explained as much at the beginning of the evening. Forgive me, Mother… Francesca! I mean Francesca!" He laughed uncomfortably and Frankie forced herself to chuckle in an effort to dispel the awkward tension. "Well, I would honestly love to chat more with you, but I have an appointment with an old friend in the city so I'm afraid I have to cut our visit short. But I think you'd like to have somewhat of an evening to yourself before the dawn comes?"
"I have no objections to ending early if you don't."
"If I could reschedule my meeting, I would, but I fear that just isn't possible. Thank you for coming all this way just to listen to me, though. It was kind of cathartic, really. I haven't talked about Emma or my transition years in ages. I suppose Jack was right… it's so easy to open up with you."
"I'm flattered you think so."
"So," and he clapped his hands then rubbed them together expectantly after standing, "you get to absorb my memories now, don't you?"
"Yes, I do," she chuckled as he helped her to her feet, curious as to why he was so eager.
"Jack said it feels like an orgasm," he explained, and Frankie's evident shock had him laughing. "I apologize. That was rather inappropriate of me."
"I don't think I needed to know that when I absorb my children's memories, I'm giving them an unintended orgasm," she replied sarcastically, repositioning herself on the stairs.
"Ah! I'm so pleased to see you're already getting acquainted with the idea of having us as your children, though we're not exactly youngsters in the technical sense."
Frankie kicked herself inwardly for the Freudian slip, while rolling her eyes in response to his comment.
"Trust me, I am not used to the notion at all and I have a feeling it'll take me some time before that changes."
"Not too long, I hope."
"So, are you ready?" she asked him, not so stealthily changing the subject.
He nodded and held out his hand to her expectantly, appearing to know exactly what to do. She assumed Jack had prepared him, which she found she was grateful for because that spared her the trouble of explaining.
Frankie cut a small wound into his wrist with her thumb and allowed the scent of his blood to flood her senses before placing her hands on either side of his head, soon staring intently into his eyes. It took a moment of concentration, but the instant the memories hit her, she visibly moved backwards as if she had been hit by a wave and she had to hold onto his head to stay on her feet.
The images and recollections came fast and were powerful and incredibly heavy, as if she was struggling against the weight of a heavy brick wall that threatened to crush her. Niklaus's memories were challenging to bear, particularly when she got to the darker days of his life.
Once more, as had been the case with Jack's memories, Dracula proved to be nothing more than a blurred image, a shadowy figure she couldn't make out no matter how hard she tried and when she did make an effort to focus on the man, it only caused her head to ache even more than it already was.
At last, the onslaught ceased and when it was done, Frankie collapsed on the stairs, unconscious.
It took Niklaus a moment or two to snap out of the pleasurable delirium she had left him in – that weightless, newly liberated state – before he realized she was seemingly lifeless at his feet, blood slowly streaming from her ears. He bent down to touch her when she sat up suddenly as if waking from a nightmare, gasping for air. Her eyes were glowing and she clutched her chest as she tried to steady her breathing.
The man's past was a violent hurricane of images and emotions and it took her some time to rein the chaos in, forming it into something a little bit more manageable and cohesive. Eventually, she became aware of Niklaus calling her name. He was holding her arms and shaking her slightly, attempting to get a response out of her. At last, she acknowledged him, looking into his eyes as her breathing became a bit more normal.
"What the hell happened to you?" he asked her nervously.
"I wish my end felt like an orgasm," she muttered, attempting to ease the panic in his eyes with what humor she could muster.
Relieved that she still had her wit about her, he laughed.
"You had me worried there. Although you really don't look so well."
"I need to find Lyra," she said. "Can you help me?"
He nodded and quickly asked her for instructions. When her things had been gathered, he helped her outside, her arm around his shoulders. Frankie was desperate for fresh air and that familiar suffocating feeling was starting to grow as her inner demon began to rouse. Lyra was thankfully already outside, pacing at the bottom of the stairs and when she noticed the pair emerging from the Parliament building, she immediately rushed over.
"Oh my God… Frankie!" Lyra grabbed the woman's face, trying to get her to look into her eyes. "Frankie, talk to me."
"Get the syringe," she managed between labored breaths as she struggled to keep the hunger down before it could grow beyond her control. She began to paw at her throat with her fingertips. "I can't control it… can't…"
"What's happening to her?" Niklaus asked, deeply concerned.
"Your memories are too much for her in her weakened state. If we don't act soon, she could go crazy," Lyra explained.
"Define crazy."
She looked him straight in the eye, her expression deathly seriously.
"She will literally tear herself apart trying to keep it in, she'll fail, and then we die."
"It? What it?"
"The blood-rage," Lyra explained ominously. "Now, hold her still for me; keep her hands down."
Niklaus obeyed, cradling Frankie in his arms slightly as he watched Lyra pull the previously mentioned syringe from her jacket.
"What is that?"
"It's something her brother came up with. It helps muzzle her demon so she can maintain control," she replied, shoving the collar of Francesca's dress to the side to expose more of her chest. With deft fingers, she traced over skin and rib to find the best spot before positioning the needle over her heart. As she pushed the tip into the woman's flesh, releasing the fluid, her friend gave out a small cry of distress.
Niklaus had been watching Lyra's movements like a hawk until he became distracted by the slightly concealed mark just over Francesca's breast – the dragon brand.
He said nothing, but the sight of it affected him, his countenance shifting.
The whites of Frankie's eyes had already started to go black, her irises glowing that brilliant violet color, but as soon as Rémy's miracle concoction started to make its way through her system, her wheezing ceased and her physical state quickly returned to something more normal.
"Is she going to be alright?" the man asked when the worst appeared to be over.
"She'll be fine. I've got it from here," Lyra insisted, taking Frankie's arm and draping it over her own shoulders.
"Are you sure I can't accompany her?"
Although annoyed by the constant questions, Lyra remained as civil as possible.
"No. You've done enough."
"Lyra, be nice," Frankie said softly, looking up weakly at the two of them.
"Are you going to be alright, Francesca?"
Frankie nodded reassuringly at the man.
"I'm in extremely capable hands, Niklaus. You have nothing to worry about. You should get going before someone sees you."
He nodded, although a bit hesitantly, before squeezing her hand with open affection.
"Very well. Please take care of yourself."
Her smile brightened somewhat.
"I will. Good night. Say hello to Jack for me."
He chuckled.
"Don't worry, I shall." He bowed deeply to her before releasing her hand, and turning to the redhead, nodded once. "Good night." He took a few steps back into the shadows of the Parliament building and then he vanished.
When they were certain he was gone, Lyra looked over at Frankie who smiled dimly up at her.
"How are you feeling?"
"Better," Frankie admitted. "I think I'll be almost fully recovered by the time we reach the flat."
"Ah, so you want to walk it off then?" Lyra teased. "If I had any sense, I'd call us a cab."
"But we both know how you don't have much sense. Just a short fuse, a fierce sense of loyalty, and a libido the size of Russia," Frankie taunted back.
"Look at you, trying to be funny."
"You know you love my sparkling wit."
"My dear sister, what on earth am I going to do about you and your sarcasm?"
"You're going to deal with it," was her answer as they started to walk. "Because Rémy hates it and anything he hates, you love."
"You know me too well."
"God I could really use a drink right now."
"You and me both."
"What happened to you hanging out in a bar while I was busy working?" Frankie inquired, a suspicious look sent in Lyra's direction. The woman fought the smile that was creeping up onto her face.
"I met up with Raul instead," she admitted with a lewd wink. "That man is fantastic." Frankie rolled her eyes.
"Forget the one drink. I'm going to need two."
"Jealous?" Lyra goaded.
"That you got laid by ex's best friend or that you were laid at all?"
"Oh come on… the werewolf is fine as hell. And we both know you used to be just as naughty."
"Well, you are a terrible influence," Frankie pointed out affectionately.
"I'm still pissed off with Tristan for your sake, by the way."
"I figured as much. How is he?"
"Formally alpha, as expected – sharing responsibilities over the pack with his sister, is having this casual on-again off-again thing with Z, though if you ask me, he's obviously not over you. He asks about you every time I'm in the south district."
"Ah, Zoe. I'm glad they're dating. She'll keep him on his toes."
"Not dating, just fucking."
"Give it time. She's a patient woman and one of the few I know who can hold her own against him. I take it by your little tryst this evening with his right hand man that things with Raul are still good?"
"If by things you mean the sex, then yes – things are still good."
"Well, I'm glad one of us is getting some."
"You know it would be really easy to just start up something casual with Tristan again. I know there's a lot of history and messy emotions in there, but you guys could work something out."
"I graduated from the whole friends with benefits thing a long time ago, my dear," she said with a laugh. "Besides, they rarely end well. I've got the soul of a serial monogamist."
"Still, if not Tristan, we could always find you someone else."
"Vampires are a liability and mortals are risky as well, especially in my current condition."
"What about a witch? Or maybe a fae? They're harder to come by, but…"
"I don't have the patience to deal with the fae and their territorial bullshit. As for witches, my days of exploring my more Sapphic-sensibilities ended decades ago. Besides, you know I can't stand most witches anyway. Not after the whole Jacob incident."
"So a werewolf it is, then!"
"No. I couldn't do that to Tristan. We might not be together anymore, but I still care about him. Anyway, we should probably change the subject. I don't want to be talking about sexual preferences and past liaisons only to have Leinhart overhear us when we get back."
"Does that man not have a place of his own that they could all congregate to? He and Danny, I swear."
"I honestly don't know, I haven't seen his place yet."
"Yet?" she repeated with a baited smirk. Frankie sent her a nasty look.
"Shut up. And remind me never to tell Carmen anything ever again."
"It's not my fault I have to hear everything about you through her. Although, I still can't believe you're into Leinhart."
"Hormones are a bitch."
"All the more reason to get you laid."
"Somehow I doubt sex will make this any better."
Soon, they reached the entrance to the metro and as they waited for the next train, Lyra sighed a little dramatically.
"I still can't believe you weren't the one to tell me about Leinhart," she added with evident disappointment.
"I was going to tell you," Frankie began.
"Oh really? When?"
"Later… like, after I got over the whole thing so we could both laugh at how ridiculous I am."
Oh Frankie... you're not going to be getting over Vlad any time soon. If anything, this attraction is only going to get worse... SO MUCH WORSE. And I'm not even remotely sorry.
All right my friends, I know this chapter was A LOT, but I'd love to get your thoughts, reactions, etc.! Appreciate you taking the time to read, though, regardless. Hope you all have a great week ahead! Next chapter will be up on Friday.