Eternal Night (I) Chapter 16: Subtle Manipulations, a van helsing fanfic

Many thanks to Scarlet Empress, She-Devil Red, Arwen17evenstar, and cneajna for the reviews this week! Sending all the hugs and bat-shaped cookies.

And is it just me, or did this week feel long as hell to anyone else? Like, my god, I thought it would never end! Work has just been a ceaseless burnout nightmare, the book world was on fire mid-week because two popular fantasy authors were revealed to have some problematic tendencies (so the social media mobs were out in full-force, which is always exhausting to witness), the regular world outside of the internet is still just pure madness in general (nothing new there)...

But at least the weather where I'm at has been really nice! :)

Granted, I've been glued to my desk for hours on end each day, but having the windows open and the sun streaming in has been a life saver.

Anyways, I hope everyone is hanging in there okay. To those of you still quietly reading in the background (I see you in my stats) - I just wanted you to know that I appreciate you guys and hope you're all doing well. Would love to hear from you at some point if you're up for it. But if this story is giving you even just a moment's reprieve from the insanity that is day-to-day life, then I've done my job.

CW: adult male uses his supernatural powers to manipulate/use compulsion on a minor to extract information. While the event itself doesn't cause any physical (or even emotional/mental) harm, the moral implications are... well... I shouldn't have to explain the importance of consent to you.

Chapter 16
Subtle Manipulations

It had been another long evening of renovations.

Dracula's hands hadn't been this sore since he had last been mortal in the year 1462 during the infamous Atacul de noapte outside of Târgovişte in midsummer. He could still recall the Wallachian failure to assassinate Mehmed II that evening, but the heavy Ottoman casualties had proven extremely gratifying.

And as he glanced about the room at his latest accomplishments, he could feel a similar gratification washing over him now.

He looked down at his hands, the faint red splotches on his palms where the beginnings of blisters had already started to heal had him soon lost in reminisce. He had forgotten the old talent of working with his hands. It had been so long – so many centuries of having other people at his beck and call to do the heavy lifting for him. But this room –

He turned about the main area of the establishment, the new headquarters of the alliance, and a sense of pride was quick to soften his features as he admired his work. He had helped put in that floor. He had built the shelves behind the bar, had put in the granite counters, constructed tables, chairs, barstools and the like – all on his own and with no expectation of any compensation in return.

Not even Miss Chase in her righteous indignation could accuse him of being as self-centered as she had initially assumed.

The thought of the woman left Dracula smiling somewhat as he exited for the evening, making his way back home. It had become clearer now than it had ever been before that Francesca was not the kind of woman to be so easily taken in by his natural charm as the others had been. She could sense that something was amiss with him, could see beyond his carefully crafted façade and well-maintained secrets – and he respected her deeply for how perceptive she had proven to be.

Stranger still, although his true identity was still unknown to her, Rémy's sister was the only member of this alliance who had begun to see him as he truly was. Not wholly, of course – there were still many facets to his character that she had yet to unveil, but if he knew her at all, he was certain she would get to the core of him sooner rather than later. The anticipation of the inevitable was both terrifying and exhilarating.

Dracula was not accustomed to being an open book to anyone – except perhaps his closest friend, Antón Bernardini, who had the burden and privilege of being intimately acquainted with the many workings of Vladislaus' secret fears, vices, dreams, and inner demons – but Miss Chase was well on her way to proving herself as an exception.

Fitting for the one who was destined to be his undying bride.

A pity then that they hadn't made much progress over the last few evenings. They had barely even spoken to one another outside of the usual civilities. Much of Francesca's time had been spent in the company of the young dhampir – Vesper – an arrangement which left Dracula's schemes in using the girl for his benefit presently unrealized. Overhearing the teenager claiming that she knew Frankie better than anyone had piqued his curiosity – an itch that still needed scratching.

There was just one problem.

Vesper was rarely left unsupervised.

The girl was always under the watchful eye of Francesca or Carmen, and the two women watched the dhampir like hawks; even Rémy made sure to keep at least one eye on her when they were in the same room, particularly when she was near a door. It was as if the lot of them were just waiting for some unknown predator to appear from the shadows to whisk her away.

Dracula exhaled as he neared the metro station, releasing a bit of his strategically concealed weariness before going to shove his hands into the pockets of his coat when he realized he had left the aforementioned garment back at Carmen's new place – along with the keys to his flat.

Turning on his heel with a bit of an irritated huff, he began to retrace his steps, only at a much quicker pace.

He arrived back in no time at all, disappointed to discover that the place was empty and the doors were all locked, but he could see his jacket was still resting on the bar counter where he had left it. Punching in the necessary numbers on the small keypad in haste to disarm the newly installed security system, he proceeded to slip inside like a shadow while using his heightened senses to make certain he'd remain undetected. After the long and arduous evening he had been left to endure, he was in no mood for conversation. He wanted to go home, bathe, feed, and then sleep - in that order.

Retrieving his coat, he prepared to leave only to discover that he had not been as alone as he had assumed. Vesper was standing at the foot of the back stairs, already dressed for bed and watching him closely. Dracula hid his surprise well. He hadn't even picked up on her heartbeat...

But then he smiled, recognizing how fortuitous this chance encounter was, and the man nodded his head in her direction.

"Vesper," he called out in acknowledgement, casually draping his coat over one arm before turning to face her. Though she remained in the shadows, her suspicion was clearly visible.

"Vlad? What are you still doing here? I thought everyone had already left?"

"I had forgotten some of my personal belongings and came back to retrieve them," and he motioned to his jacket.

"Oh. Why couldn't you pick it up when you come back tomorrow?" she inquired, making her way over to him slowly. "Rémy said they were going to finish my room. Aren't you going to help?"

"Unfortunately I will not be here tomorrow. I have some private matters that I need to attend to."

"Like business? What kind of business?"

Though his smile never wavered, his expression grew a bit pointed.

"It's private."

"Oh."

What followed was a brief moment of silence between the two of them, Dracula watching the young girl carefully as she shifted under his gaze. She seemed a little uneasy around him, constantly looking to the front door as if she were anticipating a certain someone's arrival and it made him curious. Noting how Carmen was still absent, he was quick to acknowledge that it would have to be now or never to put his plan into action. The circumstances weren't ideal, of course – he would have preferred to do this without running the risk of being interrupted... or caught. But there was a very good chance that he wouldn't have this opportunity again, and the potential payoff had to be worth the effort; and so he draped his coat over the back of a vacant chair.

"I must say, you did very well with your lessons today," he began.

The teenager became a little sheepish, blushing faintly.

"You think so?"

"But of course. You had some rather interesting insights that I found quite advanced for one so young. I was rather impressed."

"Well, I do have the best teacher a girl could ask for," she confessed, moving a bit closer to him and taking a seat in the chair where his jacket resided as if the thought had been her own.

But Dracula knew better. He took the seat next to her and leaned back in the chair in an effort to appear casual. The intended effect it had on Vesper was achieved and she too became more comfortable in his presence, her ease ensuring that the job he had ahead of him would go much smoother.

"Ah yes, Miss Chase – how long has she overseen your education?" he inquired conversationally.

"For as long as I can remember. She's taught me nearly everything I know – well, except for the stuff I learned while she was in stasis. Carmen was left with a general curriculum to follow, but she was always too busy with the Harpy and the alliance, so for a while I was mostly on my own."

"So you were teaching yourself for a number of years?" and he said this with exaggerated astonishment, though Vesper was none the wiser and his supposed approval only made the blush in her cheeks deepen.

"Pretty much."

"That is quite the accomplishment. If only the rest of your generation were as diligent in their studies."

Her embarrassment at his flattery grew more evident with each passing second, her cheeks burning scarlet. She made a move to cast her eyes down toward the table in embarrassment, but found that she could not. Vesper had become unintentionally transfixed on the eyes of the man before her, completely unaware that the longer she stared, the more effortless it became for him to ensnare her will, her mind. Careful not to disrupt the process by startling her, he leaned forward slowly in his chair as he looked deeper into her eyes, lowering his voice.

"Tell me, why did Miss Chase go into stasis?"

He was surprised to feel her resistance to his hypnotic pull almost immediately, as if an instinctual stubbornness in her unconscious mind had dared to push back against his influence.

"Why do you want to know?"

Realizing his misstep of underestimating the girl, he carefully, but graciously recovered.

"I merely have a desire to get to know her better, to understand her. But, as I'm sure you've noticed, my efforts haven't exactly borne the desired fruit."

His light jest proved the perfect distraction and with her chuckle, her previous defenses began to crumble and he was able to regain a certain degree of control over her.

"Yes. The two of you are like oil and water."

"I suppose given our recent clashes, that would prove your observation accurate," he admitted before continuing. "I did have one civil conversation with her once."

"I seriously doubt that."

"It's true. It happened the night we captured Bartos."

"Yes, I remember overhearing her talking to Carmen about that."

"Is that so?" he asked, unable to conceal his interest. "What did she say?"

There it was again.

Her resistance.

That stubborn will that would manifest itself every time he inquired directly about Francesca.

"I'm not supposed to say. I've been sworn to secrecy."

While her loyalty to the woman was commendable, Vesper was no match for the Prince of Darkness.

As he continued his slow but steady mental attack against her defenses, he also began to lightly scratch at the walls in her mind that were keeping him from reading her thoughts. He had to tread carefully here. If she became conscious of what he was trying to do, Francesca finding out later would be inevitable and the risk he was taking would be forfeit.

Dracula moved his chair closer to hers in an attempt to increase their intimacy and he leaned forward a bit so he could hold her gaze better.

"Come, come. You can't dangle information like that in front my nose only to pull it away," he replied with a flirtatious smile that seemed to weaken her resolve before his very eyes. That smile of his was dangerous. To only make it more difficult for her, he tacked on, "You are going to be a cruel and impossible woman when you're older. You will surely drive all the young men mad."

If it had been possible for her cheeks grow any more red, they would have and he felt one of her mental walls break apart as a consequence.

"You're just saying that," Vesper insisted. The look that suddenly appeared in his eyes made the girl's heart beat a little faster as he lowered his voice.

"I am not," he vowed. "I do not flatter for the sake of flattery. I tell the truth, young lady – always. When I say something, you can be certain that I mean it."

The slight hypocrisy of that statement sent his conscience nagging in the back of his head, but he dismissed it and continued, remaining utterly focused on his prey, awaiting her reaction.

"I'm still not going to tell you," she insisted.

His patience slipped for just a second as his brows furrowed.

"I could find ways of getting it out of you."

The sudden change in her expression made him want to laugh.

Her eyes had widened, the girl evidently unsure of whether to take his meaning as threatening or completely inappropriate. Deciding on the former, she boldly stood her ground, having the audacity – and foolish inclination – to meet the intensity of his gaze head on instead of turning away.

Naïve girl.

"I'm sure you could, but I am more afraid of Frankie's disappointment than I am of yours."

"You haven't met my temper before, have you?"

"No, but I have met hers, and if you think you've seen it, let me tell you, you have no bloody idea."

"What exactly did she threaten you with to make you so noncompliant?"

"Nothing but French for an entire month," the girl explained.

"How is that a punishment? French is a beautiful language and one of the easier ones to learn."

"I'm no good at languages and she knows that."

"So it would be a means of torture then?"

"Yes. She gets a sick sense of pleasure out of torturing others sometimes," Vesper declared. He could sense the blatant hyperbole in her speech, but he couldn't help but notice the hint of truth laced within.

"She has a bit of a sadist streak, does she? How peculiar. I wouldn't expect that from a lady."

A lie. He honestly wasn't surprised by this information at all.

"Clearly you don't know Frankie, then. Although I guess I can't blame you. She can be hard to get to know. The only other person I know who is just as difficult to read is you," she pointed out.

Her observation amused him.

"I make a pointed effort to be thus," he confessed.

"Well, it's annoying," was her candid answer. "It's bad enough that nobody tells me anything. But when I can't understand somebody through means of observation and eavesdropping – let's just say it's frustrating."

By this point in the conversation, Dracula had managed to acquire a fair grip on the girl's mind without her noticing, and though he still had a number of her mental walls to knock down, he had enough footing to get started.

"I can imagine. But you were going to say something about Miss Chase…Why don't you tell me what you know of her history?"

"It's complex and I only have bits and pieces. Her and Rémy are of noble blood – great-grandchildren to Louis XVI of France on their father's side. She's wicked smart and ever since I was a kid, I would overhear people talking about how she loves to play games but what they'd describe never sounded like any of games I'm familiar with. She's also a bit of a workaholic – of course, if I could interview famous vampires for a living, I'd probably be a workaholic, too."

"I remember hearing she was a part-time journalist. That still doesn't explain why she isn't on file. It's rather difficult to be paid for an honest job if there's no record of your existence."

"I don't know how all of that works, honestly. But you've probably read her stuff before. She goes by Madame Nemo? Writes for Veritas."

Interesting… he'd have to revisit that at some other time.

"Why don't you tell me about these relations of hers? They aren't in the city's census records… none of them are."

"I don't know everything. Sheesh…"

"I apologize. I wasn't expecting you to. So the aunt and uncle live in France, correct?"

"Yep! Or, I guess it's just Uncle Armand now, and Frankie's cousins. We visit them every year during the summer – except this year, since Frankie came out of stasis and Rémy had to take care of her for a while."

"You mentioned that she is particularly clever. A trait I too have noticed during our many debates. Do you know what her tactic is?"

"You mean how does she always win?"

Dracula's eyes narrowed a little in response to that.

"Yes," he conceded.

"I'm still trying to figure that out. I remember Lyra once saying that Frankie can be rather manipulative when she wants to be. Of course, considering who her maker was and the world she was raised in, it's all no surprise, really. Her mom was apparently notorious for her manipulation skills and dominant personality as well; that's actually how she met Frankie's dad. Their entire courtship was kind of a game to see who would crack first. Frankie used to tell me bits and pieces of the story to get me to sleep but it was all too fascinating. It usually kept me up instead."

"So it's an inherited gift, then? More instinct and less skill."

"No. Her maker helped her hone all of that, taught her how to use her gifts more effectively… especially after Frankie's husband died. It is one of her most powerful weapons. She can get people to trust her, to do things for her – and she rarely loses an argument."

So the woman had been married as well? Noted.

"Has she used these skills of hers before; I mean, outside of the regular disputes?"

Vesper paused and the sudden lack of conversation worried Dracula for a moment.

Had she detected him shuffling about inside her head? From what he could tell, Vesper was still very much under his influence, but she was trying to put up those walls again for some reason.

He didn't want to completely take away the girl's free will to acquire the information he desired, but she was making it difficult for him and he wasn't sure how much more time he had alone with her. So he tested his luck and with a small force of will, he got her talking again.

"Rémy once said that it used to be a common practice of hers and I remember overhearing him and Alayna talking about Frankie in the 'old days', but I guess she hasn't really been her old self for a while because I've never seen her in action like that before," she said at last.

"What exactly do you mean by in action?" he inquired, his voice distracting the girl from realizing that he was dipping into her mind even more now, forcing her to become more at ease with him so he could continue to shuffle about undetected.

He didn't have time to acquire her complete confidence; going about the deed in this slightly more honest fashion was taking too long and the last thing he wanted to risk was Carmen coming in and catching them.

"It's been a while since I've listened in on that kind of conversation, but a couple of years ago, when Rémy took me to France while Frankie was in stasis, I overheard him and a couple of the others talking…" Vesper began.

For the next few minutes, the girl recounted the details of an intriguing conversation between Rémy, a woman named Alayna, and a person known only as Satanas – the three having once reminisced on a time when Miss Chase – who up until this moment seemed like such a paragon of virtue – had actually proven to have a most impressive seductress streak in her. Of course, the more Dracula pondered on this new information, the more it made sense. This account of Frankie better matched the masked woman he had met that night in Venice nearly four centuries ago – far more than the woman he was acquainted with now.

But once again, he found himself wondering why that had changed, and what it would take to get the "old Frankie" to come out and play again.

"What else can you tell me about Miss Chase?" he inquired next.

"Frankie is usually very calm and in control of herself the majority of the time, but when provoked, she can get kind of scary when she's mad – even Rémy gets nervous, and nothing ever scares him."

"Why do you think it makes him nervous?"

"Because something happened to her a long time ago… something that had to do with Augustine, though I don't know the specifics. They never talk about it around me. But whatever it was, her anger can trigger what Rémy and Carmen call blood-rage. When Frankie goes through it, it's like she's not Frankie anymore. Her eyes go black and everything."

"You mean like what happened that first night she and I met when she attacked Morene?"

"Or the night she almost got hit by that car? Kind of – though she was still mostly in control during that time with Morene. It's easier for her to contain the blood-rage, or at least keep it from happening when she's feeding like she should, but she has a hard time keeping down certain kinds of blood."

"Yes. I remember hearing that as well. Do you know why?"

"The trauma of what happened to Derek."

"Do you know what actually happened?"

"Not the details, no… just that after he and Cece died, she was really messed up."

"I see. What can you tell me about her past relationships? Like with this nameless werewolf, for instance?"

"I liked him… he was always really nice to me but we never see him now. As for any other guys she's dated – well, I've been told that she never really gives a guy the time of day unless he goes about things properly."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean he has to…"

Vesper paused again, only this time, she continued to remain silent. She shifted in her chair once more and he could feel her mentally fighting with him again. She even managed to break eye contact with him for a moment as she looked nervously toward the door front door.

"He has to what?" he encouraged, trying to get her back on track.

"I really shouldn't be telling you any of this," she suddenly said. "Frankie would kill me if she found out I was even talking to you. I should go," and she made a move to stand up and leave when he suddenly grabbed her arm, holding her in place in her seat.

"Look at me, Vesper."

She blindly obeyed and met his gaze. To her surprise, his eyes were now glowing a bright, luminescent blue - a hypnotic swirl of gorgeous, liquid sapphire, the power in his stare drawing her in. She couldn't tear herself away and suddenly, through the sheer power of his stronger will, her mind was no longer her own.

"Tell me," he commanded; his voice deep and smooth.

"She likes to be seduced," Vesper whispered.

That was it? He nearly rolled his eyes.

That revelation was no surprise at all! Most women enjoyed being seduced – being actively pursued by one they already secretly desired. Why would Francesca be any different? He gently took Vesper's chin in his hand, looking deeper into her eyes, needing more.

"You're not telling me everything, child."

Though he nearly had full control over her mind, Vesper's loyalty to Frankie was proving a greater obstacle than he had anticipated.

"If I tell you…" she began but he hushed her, pulling her face a little closer to his, his hand still holding her chin.

"Tell me," he commanded once again.

There was a brief pause and then, at last, Vesper spoke.

"She wants you."

Dracula's expression betrayed his genuine surprise beautifully, eyes widening, his hold on her face slackening.

"How could you possibly know that?"

"She and Carmen were talking about it a few days ago. She was upset because you had one-upped her, but apparently she was even more frustrated because even though she doesn't really trust you, she's still really attracted to you."

"She wants me?" he echoed. He shouldn't have been surprised, but who was he kidding? The confirmation of what he had secretly hoped proved profoundly satisfying. "Tell me more," he persisted, seeking further clarification, though he could easily guess what the word want entailed.

"She likes your intensity, the way you touch her... She said being around you does things to her, makes her feel…" Her voice trailed off as he drew her deeper into his eyes once more. "Don't make me say it," she pleaded, clearly embarrassed.

Dracula's grin was pure devilment.

He didn't need Vesper to say the words.

He could hear them coming from Frankie's own lips in the young dhampir's mind. It was almost too perfect, the validation. And since he now had enough ammunition at his disposal, at last he slowly released the girl from his power, carefully, so he could better conceal the truth that he had been manipulating her. He wanted her to think she had betrayed Frankie's confidence on her own; that way his tracks would be covered.

"Very well, Miss Vesper. You don't have to tell me anything more. We wouldn't want Miss Chase to become cross with you."

As soon as she was released from his spell, Vesper blinked a few times before it dawned on her what she had just done. She covered her mouth in shock.

"Oh my God! I can't believe I told you all of that!" she exclaimed, looking positively horrified. "Frankie is going to murder me! She'll make me learn nothing but French for the rest of my life!"

"Only if she finds out, and I assure you, my dear, if she hears of what you have done, she will not have learned it from me," he assured her, and Vesper, as culpable as she was, couldn't help but trust him.

"You promise?"

"You have my complete confidence. I swear on my own immortal soul, I will not breathe a word. This is between just the two of us."

After a few moments of hesitancy, Vesper sighed heavily as if resigning herself to the entanglement she had just entered into with this man. She managed a smile as she looked up at him.

"You know, I don't get why Frankie insists on fighting you," she suddenly confessed. "You really aren't that bad."

He chuckled as he rose from his seat, pulling his jacket on.

"Well, with your help, my dear, I'm sure we can get her to change her mind."

"You promise not to tell?"

"I gave you my word, Vesper. I never go back on my word."

"I don't know why, but I believe you," she replied gravely.

"Best you did," he remarked with a slight smile.

As if on cue, the familiar beep of the alarm system went off and the two turned to see Carmen had returned. She stood in the front entryway, her arms full of groceries.

"Vlad! What are you doing here?" she asked immediately. "And Vesper, I told you to go to bed almost an hour ago. What are you doing up?"

Vesper was about to betray the truth, unable to bear the suspicious gaze of the female vampire, but Dracula saved the day, displaying to the girl the extent of his loyalty.

"I realized halfway home that I had neglected to grab my coat and keys. I came back to acquire them and Vesper was kind enough to entertain me with some of the history she had been learning in her previous studies."

Carmen didn't seem very convinced.

"Oh really?"

"Yes," Vesper fibbed with surprising ease. "We were discussing Andrea Hollander Budy's Snow White, and how people have a tendency to lose themselves in a fantasy that can ultimately be dangerous."

Dracula glanced over at the girl with surprise. He was content with lying about history, but the child had gone overboard and completely changed the subject to poetry! He'd have to help her in the improvement of her lying abilities.

"I thought you two were discussing history?" Carmen replied suspiciously.

"We were," Vlad explained. "But before Vesper let me finish, we had changed the subject to poetry just before you arrived. She is a culturally well-rounded young lady. I understand that a good deal of her education is due to you."

Vesper watched him in awe as the Spaniard attempted – with little success – not to be affected by his flattery.

"I made some poor attempts. Frankie deserves most of the credit."

"But not all of it, surely," he insisted, though something told him the woman was telling the truth. Having been won over by the man's deceit, Carmen dismissed her suspicions and finally allowed herself to smile.

"Well Vesper, say good night."

"Good night!"

"Good night to you as well, Vesper," he replied cordially, bowing with a noted gleam in his eye that only the girl noticed. "And thank you for keeping me company. I hope to enjoy another stimulating discussion with you in the future."

The girl colored somewhat before excusing herself and making her way to her room. As soon as she was out of hearing range, Carmen returned her attention to her male visitor.

"Stimulating discussion, hmm?" she replied, rolling her eyes and then placing half of the groceries into his capable arms before making her way to the back kitchen. Although taken aback by the rather forward action, he shrugged it off and followed her.

"You don't believe me."

"I never said I didn't. Don't put words in my mouth."

"I'm not. I'm merely attempting to understand the meaning of your tone," he replied smartly. She glanced over at him and sighed pathetically.

"It's not that I don't believe you, it's just that…" she stopped herself in mid-sentence with another sigh. "Oh, never mind."

"No, please… finish your thought."

Carmen opened her mouth to speak, but stopped herself before a word could be uttered as if she thought better of it. She even diverted her gaze away. Before this morning he would have been oblivious to her reasoning, but after his enlightening "discussion" with Vesper, he knew exactly what Carmen wasn't telling him.

"It's about Miss Chase, isn't it?" he cued, watching the woman's movements closely, noting the recognition in her eyes. "I know she hates me, Carmen. You don't have to beat around that bush."

"She doesn't hate you. You just," and she paused. "I don't know. I don't understand that woman at all sometimes."

"Ah, well then – allow me to formally welcome you to the club. Would you like to be my vice-president?" he teased, earning a chuckle. From the faint laugh-lines on her face, he had a sudden suspicion that there had once been a time when this woman had smiled a great deal more than she did now. It made him curious. "Carmen, forgive me if I seem intrusive, but…when you had lost the Harpy, you had mentioned a man by the name of Ramón." The smile on her face seemed to melt away almost immediately at the sound of the name and he leaned toward her a little, trying to get a better look at her eyes. "He was your husband?"

"Yes," she whispered, glancing at him briefly. "Yes, he was."

"May I ask how he died?"

"No, you may not," she answered curtly, suddenly going on the defensive. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Leinhart. Have a good day," and she attempted to retreat, but he quickly grabbed hold of her arm, halting her progress.

She wouldn't look at him. She didn't want him to see the tears burning in her eyes.

"Carmen, I am not the selfish, unfeeling bastard you seem to believe me to be," he said rather bluntly. His grip on her arm lessened, but he continued to hold her in his hand. "I have endured the open judgment of my friend's sister with equanimity, and although I have deserved it on more than one occasion, I have done nothing that warrants yours."

The woman laughed tearfully as she turned to face him. He didn't understand why she found what he had said to be funny, but he didn't reprove her for it.

"Is there some sort of joke I've missed?"

"There is no joke, Vlad. I apologize. You are right. You have done nothing to deserve my ill-opinion. I'm just so used to being blindingly loyal to Frankie, I can't help myself."

"I can appreciate your devotion to your friend, but I'm getting the impression that there is a great deal more to this than what you are presently saying."

Her smile was rueful.

"Forgive me. I know we are a difficult lot to understand. Personally, with all the secrets and histories and connections we share, I'm surprised you've put up with us for as long as you have. Your own loyalty to Rémy must be stronger than even I had anticipated."

"He is my friend, and unfortunately, for myself, those can be rare. I suppose at least in that I can relate to Miss Chase. I don't trust very easily either."

"But Rémy trusts you," Carmen pointed out, pulling the man from his moment of private pondering. "And his confidence, like his sister's, can be difficult to obtain, though we all tease him about how easy it is for him to be partial. Initially we all believed you were just another passing interest or acquaintance."

"I'm not going anywhere, Carmen. Of that, I can assure you."

How little she comprehended the gravity of his words.

Although a great part of him still resented the limitations that Mariella's prophecy had imposed upon him, Dracula could not deny the otherworldly pull he felt when it came to Francesca Chase.

He couldn't back out now. He was already in too deep.

Carmen had been watching him carefully for a few moments now, a peculiar look in her eyes.

"What is it?" he asked her.

"I feel like I've seen you somewhere before," she replied, her tone somewhat distant as she stared into his eyes. "It's so strange..."

"I've been told I have one of those faces," he said, quick to brush aside her suspicion as he finally released her arm.

She offered a shrug in agreement.

"I suppose you do. Well, I better go check on Vesper and make sure she's actually in bed and not up reading. I guess I'll see you later this evening?"

"I had meant to tell someone, but it slipped my mind. I won't be able to make it tonight. I was just telling the girl that I had some personal business that I needed to take care of. I have an old friend I've been meaning to visit for the last week or so, but I'll try to stop by before the morning if I can."

"I'll be sure to let Rémy know."

"I'd appreciate that." There was a moment's pause. "Well, I won't overstay my welcome. Good day, Carmen," and he proceeded to head towards the door when she suddenly called to him. He turned, looking at her expectantly.

"Ramón, my late husband – we were blood-bonded. He and I met the Chase's during the War fighting for Dracula. He and Rémy were always close friends and they fought side by side, until he was murdered by a corrupt officer in the army – one of Augustine's men. Just before Ramón died, he asked Rémy to take care of me. Losing Ramón…" her voice trailed off suddenly, and she looked away for a moment as if to collect herself, but even he could see the tears starting to well in her lower lash line again. Carmen cleared her throat. "Let's just say that having Rémy and Frankie take me in until the War ended… they saved my life. Both of them did. And when the War was over, they continued to look out for me. They even helped me build my own place. The Chases… they are family to me. In many ways, they are the only family I have."

Dracula, moved by her sudden trust in him and secretly panged by the news that it had been Augustine once again who had been causing those around him so much misery, simply nodded in acknowledgement of her sincere offer at peace. He submitted his quiet thanks and condolences for her loss, and when she returned his nod, he departed.