Eternal Night (I) Chapter 15: Of Rants & Eavesdropping, a van helsing fanfic

Ah Monday... we meet again.

I hope everyone had a pleasant and restful weekend! Many thanks to Scarlet Empress, She-Devil Red, and RavenHuffle for the reviews! Those email notifications were like little rays of sunlight in my otherwise rather dreary inbox.

Chapter 15
Of Rants & Eavesdropping

The following evening found Frankie moving about her kitchen in the most agitated manner.

She hadn't spoken a word since earlier that morning, but Carmen could only guess what had caused her friend to go suddenly mute and it made her smirk as she quietly nursed her mug of blood, the hemo spiked with a shot of espresso. Vesper, on the other hand, had no idea what had caused her favorite person in the world to be so upset, and as the state of quiet made her antsy, she had chosen to listen to music instead, her headphones in as she munched away at another delicious breakfast.

It was when Frankie tossed a dirty pan into the sink that Carmen finally decided to speak up.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, thank you," the woman quickly snapped, tossing a few more dishes in before turning on the water, waiting for the sink to fill.

Carmen rose carefully from her chair before making her way into the kitchen.

"It might help."

"No, it won't," Frankie insisted. "That man has stolen enough of my energy. Talking about it will only validate the existence of the problem."

"True, but denial has never suited you," Carmen pointed out casually, and she took a seat on top of the counter next to the sink, legs crossed as she continued to sip at her beverage. "You might as well get some of that pent up frustration out now."

"But talking about it is not the way I'd really like to get it out," Frankie groaned quietly, turning off the water.

"Says the woman who swore off men only a few weeks ago."

"That's not what I was referring to."

"If you say so," Carmen said with a smile.

"This isn't funny!"

"I'm not laughing."

After about fifteen seconds of silence, Frankie finally relented.

"It's just… the man is so infuriating!" she exclaimed, running her trembling fingers through her hair before giving the roots a light tug. "I got absolutely no rest because of him."

"What, did he sneak back into the flat after I fell asleep?"

"No, of course not… it wasn't that kind of… stop smiling!"

"What I don't understand is why you're letting him get to you in the first place. Can't you just… you know, shake him off?" and the Spaniard did a little shimmy in the hopes that her silliness would at least help lighten the mood.

All it did was have Frankie washing the dishes with more vigor.

"It's hard to shake off something that's already under your skin," she admitted with sudden deliberation.

"What, already? Damn, that was…"

"Quick? Yes, I know. I'm still reeling." Frankie tossed the sponge down for a second and looked up at her friend. "I mean, honestly, how on earth is Rémy even friends with someone like that?"

"You mean why is he friends with a highly-connected, intelligent, charming, wealthy, well-educated man with similar interests, who also just happens to be attractive? Geez, Frank, I have no idea!"

"I don't need your sarcasm right now."

"Fair, but you do need to let this go. Your brother isn't going break off the friendship any time soon. If anything, I think your rows with Leinhart only make him respect the man more."

"I wish he would break it off. If I didn't have to see him every night, it'd be easier."

"Well, technically you don't see him every night, and when you do see him, you're barely in each other's company for more than a few minutes at a time. You two seemed to get along okay when you tracked down Bartos. Maybe what you need is to be around him more often, but without other people present?" Carmen offered with teasing smile and lewd wink. "Maybe try arguing naked… see if that helps?" She innocently took another sip from her mug.

"I most certainly do not need that," Frankie began, but when a soapy glass slipped out of her shaky grip, crashing into the sink, she swore under her breath. "Damn it, why can't I stop thinking about him?" she whispered in despair. "This is ridiculous! What is the matter with me?"

"You're asking the wrong person. Every time I've seen you have the hots for someone, you've never been so… unhinged."

"I know and it's humiliating. I've tried not to like him. I spent most of the day trying to talk myself out of this absurd attraction. Even if he's arrogant, self-righteous, overly-confident, two-faced, hypocritical…"

"Too many adjectives."

"Would it kill you to be serious for two seconds?" Frankie exclaimed rather abruptly. "This is serious, Carmen. I can't have a thing for one of my brother's friends. You know what happens when I get involved with our own kind. I don't need more blood on my hands!"

Carmen's smile, which had been growing as the conversation had progressed, finally faded as she started to better comprehend the predicament her friend was in.

"You really like him, don't you?"

Frankie neither confirmed, nor denied, the accusation, but the hopeless expression she wore sucked all the amusement out of the air.

"Sweetie…" Carmen began sympathetically, but the term of endearment had Frankie angrily washing the dishes again. "Frankie, you can't necessarily help who you're attracted to. If there's chemistry there, there's little you can do to battle those feelings. The only effective tactic I can think of would be to focus on his faults until the hormones calm down and you can behave more rationally."

"But what if they don't calm down?" she asked. "It isn't getting easier, Carmen. It's only getting worse. There's this effortless charm and… bewildering desirability about him that makes it damn near impossible to hate the man for long stretches of time."

"So it's a love-hate thing?"

"Oh, there's no love there at all, I assure you," and she barked out a hollow laugh.

"So you want to hate-fuck him, then."

Frankie sent the woman a look, but didn't dignify her statement with any kind of response. After a few extended moments of silence, she finally replied,

"I don't know what this is, but what I do know is that I don't want it."

"Frankie, I want you to repeat after me," the Spaniard announced, placing her empty mug in the sink. "You are blowing this completely out of proportion."

"But I'm not!"

"Say it."

"I am blowing this completely out of proportion."

"You do not have a thing for Vlad Leinhart."

"I do not have a thing Vlad Leinhart," she repeated, though it was clear she didn't mean the words when they left her lips.

"He is an arrogant, narcissistic prick…"

"… and you deserve much better than him."

"I deserve better than him."

"He's probably just manipulating you…"

"He's probably just manipulating me…"

"… so he can later convince you to do something reckless and kinky that you'll more than likely regret later but the blame will be on you instead of him…"

"Wait… what?"

"Say it."

"No, hold on. That's… absolutely bizarre because that is the same conclusion I came to a few nights ago. You remember? After the incident when I told you I had paid for the new place?"

"I do remember."

"So that confirms it. He really is just messing with me…"

"Now, now… just because you and I came to a similar conclusion doesn't prove anything… though between the two of us, it seems the most logical explanation," Carmen replied, sliding off of the counter. "The man only behaves the way he does around you and no one else. If you ask me, from this humble and totally unbiased bystander, I'm getting the impression that he's testing you. Either that, or he's hoping to coerce you into some kind of submission because you're absolutely right, you're the only one of us that openly questions him. Maybe it's even a mixture of the two – I don't know. Ramón was the only man I ever understood fully and I still maintain that that was a fluke – and that was even with a blood-bond."

"Well, if Vlad Leinhart thinks I'm the submissive type, he has another thing coming."

"You were pretty docile with Tristan, I recall," the woman pointed out with a knowing look.

"That was different," Frankie quickly countered. "Tristan was a rare exception to my usual set of rules, and I felt safe with him – or safe enough, anyway. And besides, Leinhart clearly isn't the type of man to bend for anyone and that is becoming more and more evident every time I see him. Rémy may run the alliance, but Leinhart himself said that it's only because he lets him – the nerve."

"When did he say that?"

"That night on the bridge."

"Are you sure he meant it that way?"

"He seemed fairly sincere at the time, but maybe he was trying to get a rise out of me again?"

"He lets Rémy lead… Honestly. Who does that man think he is? Dracula?"

Frankie laughed openly at the preposterous suggestion.

"He probably wishes he was."

"All jokes aside," Carmen continued, "and don't take this the wrong way, but maybe you're attracted to the man because he's the only one of us brave enough to really go toe to toe with you. It's been a long time since someone properly challenged you."

"In the general sense, or do you mean something more specific?"

"All of the above? Knowing you, it's probably some subconscious shit like that, though even if it wasn't I couldn't blame you. He is a gorgeous man and he oozes competency, and not even you in your stubbornness can deny that."

"But it can't be that," Frankie said with a frustrated sigh as she finished the dishes. "I've known plenty of men in the past who have been equally good-looking, and their arrogance or some other fatal flaw was always an immediate turn-off. With Leinhart, though, it just… this feels different. I mean, again – that night on the bridge. Just the way he was looking at me had my resolve crumbling; and when he got close to me, when he," and she lowered her voice significantly, "when he touched me…"

"He had you by the neck."

"Yes, but… I don't know how, but I knew he wasn't going to hurt me, that he would never hurt me. His aggression wasn't so much malicious as it was…"

"Sexual?"

"Yes? But that also could have just been me projecting…" and she grumbled her frustration. "I mean, the man was harassing me and I knew that logically it should have bothered me, but it didn't… not really," and she paused, covering her eyes with her hand, trying to banish the memories of that night from her mind before they could claim any proper footing. "Carmen, I don't understand why he affects me the way he does. I barely know anything about him. All I know is his name and that he's known my brother for a short time, yet has managed to obtain his absolute trust."

"I think that right there is something neither of us will ever understand. I've been trying to get your brother to notice me for decades. Leinhart pulled it off in a matter of days."

"Well, you're trying to get Rémy to notice you on more than just a personal level," Frankie pointed out; Carmen blushed somewhat and rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly.

"Fair point."

"I feel so… so out of control when I'm around him."

The woman chuckled.

"I noticed."

"What am I going to do? I can't even begin to tell you how frustrating it is… wanting him like this and in that way."

"It's called sexual tension for a reason, my dear. It doesn't mean you need to start writing vows or choosing binding cords," Carmen pointed out archly.

"Ha ha. Very funny."

"But it's true. Just… just acknowledge this weird, unexplainable thing between you two for what it is – unresolved sexual tension. And, need I remind you, since you've sworn off men – though between the two of us, what you really need is a man with a couch and a competent understanding of Freud – until you find a way to release that tension or kill it, you're stuck with it… so deal."

"You are no help at all," Frankie insisted with a fond smile, until she noticed out of the corner of her eye that Vesper had removed one of her earbuds and was sneakily eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Vesper?"

The girl almost jumped out of her skin at the sound of her name and she quickly straightened up, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

"Yes?"

"Have you finished your breakfast? We need to leave soon."

"A few more bites!"

She quickly finished her food before entering the kitchen, trying to appear as innocent as possible. Frankie took the plate quietly, only offering a small smile to the girl, but that was all. Thinking she was off the hook, Vesper turned to leave when Frankie called back at her.

"I'm not done with you yet, young lady. Have a seat right here," and she patted her hand on the counter beside the sink where Carmen had previously been sitting. Vesper groaned, but obeyed. "Were you eavesdropping?"

She opened her mouth, ready to lie, but the look in Frankie's eyes told her that would be an unwise decision. So she conceded, her shoulders slumped as she stared at her dangling feet.

"Yes."

"How much did you hear?"

Vesper looked over at Carmen who had been watching her carefully.

"Not much. Only that you have the hots for Leinhart and basically want to jump his bones – or hate-fuck him, as Carmen called it."

The soapy fork Frankie had been cleaning slipped right out of her hand suddenly as the woman jumped in surprise. Carmen was laughing. "I do not!" Francesca countered immediately.

"You asked what I heard," Vesper defended. "And I've seen how he looks at you, even when you two are fighting. He wants it too."

Frankie picked up the fork that had jumped out of her hand and she pointed it at the girl.

"You breathe one word of the conversation Carmen and I just had to anyone and I swear to God almighty, young lady, you'll be doing nothing but French lessons for a month. No sparring lessons. No chemistry nights with Rémy. Nada. I will make you read the complete and unabridged works of Victor Hugo in their original French and if you can't translate an entire chapter for me perfectly, we start all over again! Do you understand?" The look in Frankie's eyes promised misery and Vesper nodded her head in understanding. "Swear it to me, Vesper. Because the only people that know of this are the three of us and Lyra. And if he finds out, you are the one that is going to be dead for it."

"I don't care if you kill me, just please don't make me do French! I swear, I won't tell a soul! Living or dead! I give you my word!"

Frankie never responded and the look she gave the girl illustrated her lack of faith in her assertion. To prove her point, Vesper slid off the counter and fell to her knees before the woman, grabbing her legs in a groveling manner, repeating the words, "Please, I promise" over and over again. Both Carmen and Frankie were amused by this display, and at last, the latter relented, nodding her head in satisfaction as she motioned for the girl to get up off the floor.

"Alright. I believe you. Now go get ready. We're leaving in ten minutes."

Vesper immediately dashed out of the room, leaving the two women to stand there, chuckling.

"I swear; the girl is more fearful of learning French than of death."

"I just hope she keeps her word," Frankie sighed, finishing up the dishes.

"I can't think of any reason why she would go back on it."

"Oh, I can think of a couple."

"Vlad, come give us a hand with the wood!" Rémy called from the street as a large truck appeared in front of the new headquarters of the alliance.

The parquet for Carmen's floors had arrived.

The layout to the place was a bit similar to the original establishment, with the tavern on the first level and the lodgings on the second – but it was far more secure with one additional floor of rooms and the makings of what Rémy hoped to turn into a panic room hidden away in the basement.

The entrance led straight into the main hub of the building where the pub was located. As soon as the floors were finished, tables and chairs would be set up in the surrounding area, with a couple of private booths in the far corners. There were three other doors in the main room. One led to an empty cellar that Carmen planned on using for booze storage. Another to a staircase to the upper floors. And the third led to a hall which ran to the kitchen in one direction and to a separate set of stairs heading toward Carmen and Vesper's private quarters, complete with secret passageways that, in case of an emergency, would provide them with quick access out of the building and into the tunnels beneath the city.

Dracula almost couldn't believe he had agreed to do this in the first place.

He could scarcely recall the last time he had participated in any form of proper manual labor, and for charity, no less. He looked at his hands and released a sigh before removing his coat and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

The things one does to stay incognito, he mused to himself as he made his way over to the truck, carrying wood into the front entrance of the bar. This work reminded him somewhat of his life as a mortal, although even then, as the prince and ruler of Transylvania he had never been expected to do work like this.

It didn't take long for the men to unload all of the supplies they would need to complete the renovation and soon enough, they were consumed in their various projects.

Vladislaus had situated himself in the hallway nearest to the kitchen in hopes of some privacy. He still had some plotting to do and he wanted to do it without distraction. In no time at all, he was hard at work, the rhythmic pounding of the hammer against the nails as he put in the new floor strangely cathartic.

The words of Francesca Chase's blunt dressing-down of his character earlier this morning continued to haunt him. Her astute observations had managed to wound his pride, her effective censure granting her a win in their little game, their secret battle for dominance one over the other.

Now the ball was back in his court and his next move needed to be smart… The problem was, for all their bantering, he still barely knew the woman. He couldn't really think of any additional weaknesses of hers that he hadn't already exploited, and she would surely be on her guard going forward. He needed to do something different, something unexpected, something that would leave her stunned, silent, and at his mercy.

He continued to go over ideas in his head quietly to himself for the next half hour, hardly realizing that he had finished most of the hallway already. He only paused for a moment when he heard the women arrive, the sound of Frankie greeting her brother immediately grabbing his attention.

"Evening, Frank. How was having the apartment all to yourself?" Rémy asked, making no attempt to hide the resentment in his voice.

"I didn't have it all to myself. I had Carmen and Vesper with me."

"Ah yes, how could I forget?"

"I'm sure Lily took exceptional care of you anyway, so you can stop pretending like you're hurt because I kicked you out."

Dracula was quick to correct one of his previous accusations regarding Frankie. He did know something about her. She was merciless.

"She most certainly did. Which reminds me; Carmen! Lily is upstairs in one of the guest bedrooms. She can't figure out which colors go where."

"You put her in charge of what?" Carmen shouted from across the room, a flood of angry Spanish leaving her as she raced upstairs.

"So, what are you going to be doing today?" Rémy then inquired, returning his attention to his sister.

"Vesper and I are going to the kitchen for her lessons. I offered to take them over so Carmen could supervise the work here."

"You mean you're not going to get your hands dirty?" her brother teased.

Dracula could taste the woman's annoyance from here. He half expected her to bring up the fact that she had paid for the place, but was surprised when she didn't.

"I have my list of responsibilities just like the rest of the group. If you want to compare sizes, brother, you'll have to look elsewhere." Dracula snorted quietly to himself at that. "I need to start going over all these résumés for Carmen."

"What résumés?"

"I want someone as in-house security. I don't feel comfortable with her and Vesper being all the way out here alone."

Dracula noted her voice was moving closer and he quickly busied himself, getting back to work.

"Does Carmen know you're doing this?" Rémy had called out in reply.

"Not yet."

Frankie appeared at the entrance to the hall just a few moments later, stopping suddenly when she noticed Leinhart on all fours, putting in the hardwood floors. Their eyes met and Vesper looked between the two of them awkwardly before deciding she wasn't a fan of the tension.

"Hello," Vesper called out politely.

Dracula managed to look away from Frankie so he could acknowledge the girl. He nodded his head and even smiled.

"Miss Vesper. How are we this evening?"

Vesper fidgeted slightly, moving closer to Frankie as if the woman was her bodyguard and for the oddest reason, it made him want to laugh. But he remained composed, still very aware of the woman's presence.

"I'm very well, thank you," the teenager replied. "You seem to have come a long way, putting the floor in; most of the other men in the front haven't accomplished as much."

Vlad accepted the compliment with grace before looking back at Francesca.

"What can I say? I'm good with my hands."

The hidden suggestion in his words was not lost to Frankie and she immediately ushered Vesper into the kitchen before he could get a proper look at the way her cheeks had begun to flush. A little miffed by her refusal to acknowledge him, but not disheartened, he ignored the slight and continued to work.

Meanwhile, the two females transformed a small corner of the kitchen into a suitable study area and within moments, Dracula could hear Vesper reading from a history text on World War III. He tuned her out after that, her voice becoming more like a muffled drone in the background of his heavy hammering.

As he worked, his ears habitually stayed tuned in to any noises coming where Frankie was located as he half-listened to the conversations she held with the young dhampir. He continued in his labor, even when the others stopped for a break, also dismissing Morene when she attempted to distract him. The only thing that successfully pulled him away was when Frankie's lessons with Vesper paused as their conversation met with a tangent.

He was situated out front by this point, somewhere behind the counter of the bar, out of anyone's view. The females' voices were carried through the small window space in the wall between the main room and the kitchen.

"Frankie, are you serious?" the teenager had inquired. "Look at her résumé. Her bar-tending experience is like… zero. And I don't care if she is an ex-cop. She looks like a man."

Evidently, the topic of history had been abandoned in exchange for gossip.

"Outward appearance is immaterial, and, more importantly, she's been a loyal alliance supporter for well over a decade now. She can be trusted – and that's what's important," Frankie patiently explained. "Besides, her experience is much better than this option right here. And we need to find someone who we can not only trust, but tolerate. Remember, you and Carmen will be living with whoever gets hired."

Dracula felt himself convinced by Frankie's argument, but Vesper was clearly not.

"Frankie. I know you don't like this person. Stop lying. You're terrible at it."

He sat up a little so he could steal a glance into the other room. He could see the rare curve of a smile on Frankie's face as she thumbed through what appeared to be an application.

"Only when I want to be," she teased. Vesper laughed.

"Oh please! Carmen and Lyra may be your best friends, but I'm the only one who knows when you're lying; even when it isn't as obvious to everyone else."

"That's only because you are naturally observant," Frankie insisted. "As for the rest, you don't know me half as well as you think."

"I know you better than Carmen does," Vesper pointed out. "That has to count for something."

Frankie paused and glanced over at the girl, brow arched as she smiled fully.

"In some things, yes. I suppose you do."

Delighted that she had won, Vesper leaned forward and willfully abandoned her textbook as she continued to help Frankie shuffle through the résumés, both completely oblivious of Dracula who was presently doing what Vesper had done earlier in the evening – eavesdropping.

The wheels in his head began to turn and an idea so cunning and so… obvious began to take shape in his mind, he was almost embarrassed he hadn't thought of it before.

Perhaps he didn't know Frankie as well as he would have liked – but he knew someone else who knew her quite well, someone he could manipulate and control without getting caught. A positively devious grin curved his lips as he returned to his work, his next course of action clear.

He just needed a few minutes alone with Vesper, and then she would tell him everything he needed to know.

If you think Dracula is above manipulating a teenager to get information, you're about to be sorely mistaken ;) The question is - will he learn anything new or will it just be a validation of what he already suspects? Hmm... I wonder.