En Medias

by Half-Esper Laura
Based on Castlevania: Symphony of the Night (and a little bit on Castlevania III: Dracula's Curse) by Konami

Part 4 of 6

***

Alucard gradually woke, gradually became aware of his surroundings and situation. The first thing he percieved was the smell of food, of meat cooking over a fire. Interesting that he noticed this before the tree bark against his back, or even the cords binding his wrists on the opposite side of the tree trunk.

He looked up to find three people seated around a campfire about ten feet away; one was the same man who had destroyed the dragon skull with a whip and rescued him, and he was wearing a tunic of earthtone colors, with a headband holding back his shoulder-length brown hair. The second was limber and wiry, dressed in a hodgepodge of colorful but tattered clothes, and the third figure was almost completely obscured in a pale blue cloak. Some small animal was cooking over the fire, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since his escape from the castle, and then not very well.

His rescuer noticed him moving, and rose and came over to him and squatted to put them at eye-level to each other. He had an open, honest way of moving, and the smell of a laborer. The impression he gave was altogether wholesome and common. It had been years since Alucard had encountered such a person, and he liked this man immediately.

"Sorry about the tying you up thing," the man said. "Grant insisted. So who are you?"

"I'm... I'm Adrian. You?"

"Trevor. Trevor Belmont. So now that I know your name, who are you?"

"Don't underestimate the importance of knowing someone's name," Alucard said; he was still a bit groggy, and his mind was wandering. "It connects you to a person and gives you a certain power over them if you know their real name."

The cloaked figure looked up at those words, and rose and came toward them.

"Belmont..." Alucard mused further. "The Belmonts are a family of vampire hunters, isn't that right? And you so close to Dracula's castle..."

"Someone has to stop him," Trevor said.

"Yes, yes that's true..." It seemed almost ridiculous, that he would escape from Castlevania just in time to meet a great vampire hunter. Despite, or perhaps even because of, the gravity of his situation, he started to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Trevor asked.

"Oh, it's just... It's just funny that I would meet you. You see... I usually don't go by my real name. Usually I call myself 'Alucard'." He paused; Trevor was looking at him blankly. "Dracula spelled backward. The vampire, Count Dracula, is my father."

"I told you he was a bloodsucker!" the wiry man shouted, as he still sat by the fire.

"Then you're..."

"Not exactly a vampire, no... I'm half human. I understand if half vampire is too much, though. God knows it is..." He laughed again, just a little.

"What are you talking about?" Trevor asked.

"You should probably kill me. ---It's all right, I should've expected it really... If you'll just untie my hands first."

"Not for all the jewels in India!" the wiry fellow insisted, coming over to them. "You gotta watch them vampires, they're tricky."

"I won't---" Alucard began, then stopped. "All right, then you must make the sign of the cross on me."

"What?" Trevor said, then turned to his fellows. "He's not a vampire!"

"He's trying to trick you! He knows you'll think he's innocent if he can take the Holy Sign."

"I'm already wearing a cross!" Alucard protested, but then he realized that the weight of the necklace chain was absent from his neck. "Where is it!?" he cried. Could it have fallen off in the forest? Could it have stayed as it was when he became a bat, and been lost? He moaned with despair. "Joan's necklace!"

Trevor paused for only a moment. "GRANT!" he shouted, and leapt at his wiry companion. After a bit of a chase, he managed to tackle him and wrestle him down. "Drop it!"

"Lemme go!"

"After you drop it!"

"I'm not holding it!"

"Then give it back!"

But Alucard was unable to enjoy their antics. The cloaked figure, who had thus far remained totally silent, now knelt in front of him. He produced a needle-sharp wooden stake from the cloak, and with slender, graceful hands set the point of it against Alucard's chest.

No! I didn't come this far just to die! I'm not just going to let myself be killed! No! Be quiet! Just be quiet! He squeezed his eyes shut, focussing entirely on holding himself back. Just be quiet, just wait...

The point of the stake was lifted away, and a moment later, he felt the ropes around his wrists go slack. Hesitantly, he withdrew his hands from them and stood.

"Let my hands free and I'll get it!"

"Where is it!?" Trevor was shouting, still holding Grant down.

"It's in the bag on my belt."

Trevor searched through the bag and soon found the intricate silver cross. He held it up for Alucard to see. "Is this it?"

"Yes, that's it."

Trevor released Grant and brought the necklace, seemingly unperturbed at finding the captive freed. Alucard took the cross gratefully and fastened it again around his neck.

"You decided he was safe?" Trevor asked the cloaked figure, who nodded. "This is our friend Sypha Belmades. He's quite a magician. I used to be pretty spooky about that kind of thing, but he seems all right."

"One who fights against a monster like Dracula takes what advantages he can," Sypha said. His voice was low and soft, hardly more than a whisper. He turned to Alucard. "I think you know what I mean by that."

"Hey, that's right!" Trevor said. "If you're Dracula's son, then you've been in the castle before, haven't you? I mean, you know your way around."

"Yes... But I'm not going back there!"

"Come on, we could really use your help."

"You don't understand!" Alucard insisted. "I've been living there, I've been trapped there for ten years! Ten years in that evil castle, can you imagine it?? I almost died! I almost went mad! I barely got out, even now! If I go back there I might never see the sun again!"

"Well, I'd rather he didn't come!" Grant volunteered. "Be just great to have a bloodsucker around, to bite us all on the neck when we're asleep. And a coward, at that."

Unexpectedly, Alucard couldn't keep himself from protesting. He'd thought so himself, but... "How dare you say that!? How dare you say that when you've never even seen the inside of that place, have you? I lived ten years surrounded by walking fear and death! Ten years with walking corpses for company! You do that, and come out alive and not a demon yourself, or a madman, and we'll see if you'd ever go back! Then you can call me a coward, but now, sir, you cannot!"

"Hey, calm down!" Trevor gently grasped Alucard's shoulders. "I understand what you're saying. Really, I can't imagine what it must've been like, but I can understand how you wouldn't want to go back. We're not going to twist your arm and make you, all right? I just thought, no harm in asking, okay?"

Alucard grew calmer. He felt a bit guilty about his outburst now, and nodded to Trevor. "Yes. Yes, I understand. Believe me, I want to help you. I want to see my... to see Dracula stopped, but I can't do it. I tried. Believe me, I tried... And I can't..."

"It's all right, I won't ask again," Trevor said. "So why don't we just have a meal together and go our separate ways then?"

"Yes. Thank you very very much." Alucard was very relieved, both that it was no longer being suggested that he go back to Castlevania, and that he wouldn't have to be so humbled as to ask for food.

***

So I ate with them, and Trevor and Sypha asked me if I could draw maps for them, or give them anything that might help them in my absence. I was only too happy to comply with this, and sketched out a map of the castle as best I could. Grant, of course, complained the whole time that I was going to draw a map that would lead them right into a trap, but I knew that I wasn't doing so, and that was what mattered. If it was with extreme caution that they followed the path I drew out, so much the better.

I'm getting to that.

They didn't tarry long, wanting to reach the castle that night and go in the next morning, to face my father and his minions in daylight as much as possible. So once we finished the meal and the map, they went along their way, as best I could point it out.

I stayed there at the campsite for some time, not knowing where I should go. I didn't want to subject human society to myself, to my demon, and living in seclusion was, while better than returning to the castle, not very appealing.

And as I sat and pondered, I became more and more disturbed. A sort of self-hatred rose up in me. Not of the sort when I consider that I'm half vampire or half-demon mind you. Guilt. That special kind of guilt when you know that you're a coward and you're stupid. I knew how horrific Castlevania was, and yet I had sent people there unaided. In trying to preserve my soul, I had done the most soulless thing of all and abandoned them.

I thought of Trevor. Already I felt a great deal of affection for him; I think he had that special sort of humanity that had been painfully absent during my ten years in Castlevania. I couldn't bear the thought that he might not succeed, that he might die in that castle, but I was so afraid of my father, I believed my father so powerful that I despaired of what might happen to those three. At last I couldn't abide myself if I just left them to their fate, and I followed them and joined them. To ease my greatest fears, I secured a promise from them all that if this went bad, they would kill me, rather than abandon me to live a condemned eternity in Castlevania.

Trevor was glad to have me. Sypha's reaction was difficult to ascertain, but at least she was glad for the advantages I could provide. Grant was not pleased. But on the upside this meant I never had to stand watch when we slept---he refused to sleep without assurances that I was asleep, also. I think the others probably agreed with him, although more subtly. Of course, again, the important thing was that I knew I wasn't going to harm them. In hindsight it seems amazing that I would have been so comfortable. It had been a very long time since I had had any blood to drink, you know.

And so, the next morning, we entered the castle, and perhaps it is ironic that the greatest dread was mine. Now I was there with a purpose, which I suppose is better than just whiling away endless days there, but for me, every inch of the castle was full of horrific memories. I knew the entry hall, where most who came to the castle died, and where he came to reanimate their corpses to serve him. I knew the chambers where the demons had parleyed, where people had died... The places where, in years before mine, my father had impaled people on great stakes and watched them die for sport, collecting their blood to drink as it trickled down from their bodies.

But soon, it became evident that my presence in the castle now truly was different. For ten years I had lived helpless among these horrors, but now, I saw Trevor, Sypha, and Grant, putting them all to the proverbial sword, and succeeding. I was shy at first. In general the castle's monsters had never bothered me unless provoked, and the habit dies hard. But before long, I took up my sword and my conjured flames, and did as well as any of them. Except perhaps Trevor. Sypha was more... more professional, I suppose you would say, but one could see that Trevor had it in his blood. The monsters and the undead tried to defend the place, but four of us together were a match for them.

It was during this quest that I learned to take the form of a wolf, at a moment when I was disarmed and needed a savage offense. I embarassed myself a bit, because I took awhile finding how to turn myself back. But in that form, I discovered that Sypha was a woman, by her scent. She had been pretending to be a man until that point. She was rather angry when she found that I knew, but I agreed to keep the secret.

Ever since my lone attempt on my father's life, he had not allowed me to know where he slept, so I wasn't able to lead my companions straight to him. But I did what I could, surmised what I could from my earlier experiences. We explored everywhere. First the basements; I thought that Dracula would probably sleep in the darkest, most hidden away parts of the castle, but he wasn't there. We began exploring the halls and towers. Unfortunately we were unable to complete the mission in a single day. Perhaps Sypha had predicted this, because as we went, she placed magical wards on certain small rooms, so that the monsters would be unable to enter, and in these rooms, we would be able to sleep through the night. Although there is little sun in the castle in any case, during the day it is somewhat less horrific.

Sypha also had quite an admirable idea. I had already warned my companions that the castle was known to change shape at times. Usually only slowly, so it was doubtful that it would shift while we were in it, but the possibility was there. So Sypha, who filled in more of the map I had drawn as we went along, placed an enchantment on that map, and connected the warded rooms to their map-depictions. As a result, this map is able to track the location of these rooms and fill in between them, and thus provide an accurate, if somewhat sketchy, map of the castle at any time. In fact, I have that map here.

Yes, she was amazing.

Keep it. Give it to your friend; one day his family will have a use for it again, I am sure.

We were able to progress slowly through the castle in this way, with those "safe rooms" to fall back to when we found ourselves in trouble. As we explored the towers, it seemed we were getting closer, as the opposition became more fierce. However, I led the other three away from the Library. I suppose it's the one part of the castle that I have any fond memories of at all; all the learning there, all those long talks with the Librarian... Somehow I was protective of it. Certainly there was a limit. If we searched the rest of the castle without finding my father, I would bring them back there, but if not...

And however my prowess against the monsters and undead bolstered my confidence, as the unexplored portion of the castle grew less and less, my dread returned in force, because I knew that with each new room we explored, my chances of coming face-to-face with my father were greater. I hadn't forgotten my fear of him, not at all. I had not forgotten how utterly powerless I had been when he struck me or held me. Even as my confidence grew through our lesser trials and victories, a deeply-rooted dread and pessimism persisted within me. I was still all but certain that when we faced Dracula himself, this would all come to naught, and in that, it was quite likely that my allies would not even be able to honor our agreement and rescue me by my death.

But of course, you know how this story ends. Eventually we did find him, in that precarious tower room that draws the eye, viewing the castle from the outside.

***

Even then, in the moment, Alucard couldn't say what was happening. It was all a flurry of motion---Trevor's whip, Grant's acrobatics, Sypha's flowing robes and the light-show of her spells.

And Dracula, of course. Black-clad and larger than life, still haughty and impervious under the hail of blows. Through his own magical weavings, it seemed that he flitted from place to place without the slightest undignified exertion, attacking with flames and magic rather than dirtying his own hands.

It was all a complex weave of action, but somehow not random, like some sort of grim death-dance in which everyone except himself knew their steps.

But he didn't know any steps, or any words, or even the first raising of a hand. He hadn't from the moment they came into this room, and he saw Dracula there. His father had not spoken a word to him, but only looked at him, with a kind of paralyzing gaze that took all the strength out of him, that took away what shred of sense he had about what was going on.

And so he was just standing there, back against the wall. His eyes were open; he was seeing all of it, hearing his companions occasionally shout to him before they finally gave up on him. But it was all meaningless, drowned out by the roar of his own mind.

Why are you standing there?! Draw your sword! Fight him! Kill him after all he's done to you! Oh, God help me... Oh, God, I'm so afraid... If I fought him I'd die... If I raised a finger against him he could kill me... Oh, God, forgive me, I'm such a coward. What am I doing leaving my friends to fight alone? How can I be such a coward as not to help them!? I'm his son, I'm responsible, I have to fight! Have to fight my father... I don't know what to do, I'm so afraid...

Someone help me...

His heart skipped a beat any time he saw Trevor or Grant or Sypha take a blow, but they continued to bounce back. No mortal injuries. In a way Alucard felt that he was the one being most grievously wounded. At moments in his part of the grim dance, Dracula would deliberately meet his son's eyes, and send him reeling all over again. It was hard to read that gaze. Hurt? Betrayed? Angry? Vengeful? All of that at once?

I should fight. I have to fight. The fear in fighting is that one or the other of us will die, and no one can say who, but I want it that way. It has to be that way. If he doesn't die now, then I must, because it would be better than facing what came next... And still he couldn't move from where he stood.

It was not until Dracula reached out for Trevor and seized his arm with a bellow of rage that Alucard realized that the attacks had been getting through bit by bit all along, but even as hope sparked, the tides turned against it as the ashen-pale hand on Trevor's arm began to grow and change. Dracula's entire body shifted and remolded itself in ways whose nebulous darkness made Alucard's wolf and bat transformations seem like tiny pale shadows, reshaping itself in moments into a huge and monstrous form, like a bat-winged demon or a hideous gargoyle. But the true terror of it was not in its aspect, but in that now huge clawed hand that hoisted Trevor Belmont up from the floor, holding him by his whip-arm to keep him from countering the attack...

No! Perhaps Alucard flattered himself to think it, but Trevor was a friend. The only one in a long long time, the only one ever to know the truth of what he was and not turn him away. Not only a friend, but practically the symbol of humanity, and everything he had longed for in ten long years of darkness... The wall came away from his back as he began to move forward.

Sypha was quicker. She gave a full-voiced shout, no longer hiding the feminine timbre of her voice in low, hushed tones. A great crystal mass of ice flowered around the gargoyle-hand, and the Dracula-monster let out another roar of vexation as the ice snapped and Trevor fell from its grip. Immediately, it raised the other hand, black talons pointed, and Trevor, still encumbered by the ice, with no rescue and no way to dodge...

The roar of Alucard's thoughts had frozen. He didn't consider as he darted across the room. He didn't draw his sword, didn't attack, but threw himself into the open space between Trevor and Dracula, and stood there, arms wide to accept whatever deathblow might be coming.

"STOP!" The words poured out of him, straight from idea to speech without question. "Are you going to kill me, too? Your own child??"

The eyes of the creature were still Dracula's eyes, and for a moment they widened as he froze, considering, torn. But then the eyes squeezed down to slits, glowing red. "YOU LITTLE TRAITOR!!!"

The next thing Alucard knew, he was flying through the air, and pain exploded through him as he impacted against a wall and fell to the floor. It was only as that wave of pain dulled that he realized his side was burning. His head swimming, he grasped at it as if groping about in the dark. His flank had been slashed open by the claws, and seared with fresh pain as he touched the open wound. With tremendous struggle through the thick haze of his consciousness, he managed to percieve the blood glistening on his glove before collapsing into oblivion.

***

So you see, I didn't have so much of a hand in that. Trevor told me I saved him, that I bought them that moment that made all the difference, but I hardly did anything. I was a coward in that battle.

I don't remember very well what came next, but I'm told that after Dracula was killed, Trevor roused me. The castle was falling in, as it does when its master dies, and he wanted to know if I could get to my feet and escape. I'm told my reply was that he should leave me and let my entire cursed bloodline end then and there, and it does sound like something I would say. But he wouldn't have any of that, and he swears that when he told me so I smiled.

They must have carried me out of the castle, but it was some time before I returned to my senses. I had been badly injured, and the wound festered such that I'm sure those claws were poisonous. And moreover, I think that, much as I hate it, Castlevania is a part of who I am, and it had been torn away from this world. I did not mourn it for an instant, but it did place me in a sort of shock.

I drifted between life and death for one week. I recall snatches of wakefulness. Enough to be fed, enough to be sick. I think I even spoke, but I can only imagine what sort of delirious gibberish it was.

***

"I won't stop trying until the very end," Sypha said. The male charade was over now, and she stood beside Alucard's bed with her cloak off, dressed in her plain coarse dress and with her long blonde hair unbound. "But it doesn't look good."

What she was saying was obvious enough. Alucard's skin, normally milky-pale, had turned a deathly yellowish grey---even his lips, the one feature that was normally rosy. Occasionally he tried to toss and turn deliriously, but was so weak that he seemed trapped by the blankets.

"I never thought it would be like this," Trevor said, sitting on a stool by the bed, holding Alucard's cold hand. "I guess I should've, but I thought when we won everything would be all right. But in real life..."

"Grant ran off with all the money he could lay hands on..."

"Well, that didn't surprise me. And I don't really care. That's what he wants, he can have it. But I just..." He reached over and brushed Alucard's coal-black hair with his fingers; the roots of it were noticeably white. "Have you noticed his hair?"

"Yes," Sypha said. "For it to turn white all at once like that is---"

"Happens if someone is scared within an inch of their life, right? I can't help but wonder what he's been through... But anyway, I was saying it really shouldn't take me by surprise, but I hadn't thought about... when it was all over... about maybe burying someone."

"Don't give up," Sypha said. "You don't have to be falsely optimistic, but keep up hope. Keep trying 'til the very last. I think we owe him that much."

Trevor nodded in agreement.

"We need to draw more water..." she said, after a long pause.

"I'll get it." Trevor started to rise, but Alucard clung to his hand and turned toward him fitfully.

"Don't go..."

Trevor knelt over him, cradling a hand around his head. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"Please help me."

"I'm doing everything I can. I'm sorry."

"Stay with me. Please stay with me. Trevor, please. I love you." As he spoke, Alucard opened his eyes, looking up at Trevor with a dim, sparkling gaze.

"Huh?"

"You're so warm and human and everything I'll never be. Everything I could never have. Please, I know I haven't done anything. I know it must sound horrible and disgusting to you but please. I want you to say that I was a friend to you."

"Of course you are! And you will be for a good long time!" Trevor insisted. "You're going to be just fine. And then I'll take you home with me, and you can meet my wife, and I'll show you all my sheep. You can come out to watch them with me sometime and we can just talk all day out there, under a tree in the shade. It'll be great. I wouldn't think it was disgusting at all. Don't say that."

"I'm not human. I'm so ashamed, every moment I live..."

"Yes you are human. Hush, just rest, all right? You should be proud, and if anybody asks me about you, I'm proud. Just think about that. Just let your mind rest on that, okay?" He stroked Alucard's head again as he drifted off into feverish sleep.

"You stay with him," Sypha said in a low voice. "I'll go."

***

I hardly remember being awake, but it was enough that only in the silence of night did I sleep deeply enough to dream. The wound and the poison were so potent that even in my dreams I lay in bed, drained of strength.

I dreamt of my father. I've come to believe that he is never truly gone, so I suppose that when he vanished from this world he existed in the dream world, perhaps. But I dreamt that he came to me and sat beside me on my sick-bed, and it was really very characteristic of him. While I was weak and passive thus, he stroked my head and told me that he loved me. But while he did this, I dreamt that he reached his hand into the wound in my side and... searched around inside me and removed objects. It wasn't painful, but it was uncomfortable---and draining; I was very aware of some intangible loss each time he did this. He took things from me. He took my bat-shape. He took rubies out of me, and I understood that by this he was taking my blood to strengthen himself. He took familiar things, books I had read, articles of clothing I had owned, and then things also that made no sense at all, candles, sticks and stones. I remember once he pulled out several yards of fine fabric. Then strangely, when the castle materialized again in this day and time, there those things were, and I was able to get them back. Even today the line between waking and dreaming can blur in this life I live.

I dreamt of my father in this way for four nights. By that time I was very far gone, hardly able to lift a finger. Somehow, I don't think that he intended me to die, but the fact remains that slowly, almost gently, he was killing me in those dreams. Taking my life away little by little. Sypha and Trevor were doing what they could to save me---I never saw Grant again after the battle---but I think they had abandoned most hope by that time.

That night, the fifth night, I dreamed of my mother. She sat beside me as my father had, and cared for me, but of course she was sincere. I dared to think I had died and gone to heaven to see her again. But after some time she told me there was something she must do, and that it would be very painful, but to recall, as she said when I was a child, that sometimes the things that are needed for healing are very painful. And she reached into the wound, as my father had done, and drew something out, but it felt completely different. Not that vague discomfort, but the pain of it was excruciating, as having something pulled out of an open wound should rightly be---Sypha told me later that I screamed even in my weakness and my sleep. But when mother had it out, it was a suit of armor which she gently dressed me in, then left me to rest. In my dream later that night, my father came again and touched me and gave me all those hateful pantomimes of affection, but he was unable to reach into the wound because of the armor.

The sixth and seventh nights were like that as well. On the sixth night my mother came to me and comforted me, and then, honest again about how painful it would be, unlaced the armor and drew out a shield, and when Dracula came in my dream, I was able to put the shield over my face and shield myself from his touch. And on the seventh night, my mother drew out a sword and gave it to me, and with it I was able to fend the dream-Dracula off entirely, for I had been gaining strength.

It was on the morning after this seventh night that I awoke, and from there I recovered swiftly.

And from then on I wore that sword and shield and armor in my dreams. Imagine my shock when, after centuries of sleep, I awoke to find myself actually posessing them! Well, I shouldn't say shock. In fact I had been dreaming, wearing them in my dreams for so long that it only seemed normal. I lost them when I entered the castle, and it was not until I found them again that I realized I shouldn't have them at all. But then, I'd found so many of those dream-objects...

But I digress.

After those seven nights of dreaming, I woke, and after that I swiftly recovered. Trevor and Sypha said that my survival was nothing short of miraculous, and when I related my dreams to them, Sypha understood how significant they were. Trevor was always just a bit simple about such things, however, God bless his soul. But even he said that my mother's spirit was still watching over me.

After this Sypha went her own way, with promises to meet again. I did see her once or twice more before I went to sleep. She and I were close friends, but it was a friendship of mutual respect more than affection.

I had nowhere to go, and so Trevor took me home with him, and introduced me to his wife. I don't remember very much about her, since I did not speak her language, but she was a good, honest woman. And I found that Trevor was a shepherd. I would go out with him to watch the sheep and sit in the shade of a tree, and we talked, and I told him everything. Everything I've told you and more. He was the best friend I have ever had, and I would be lying if I said I didn't miss him. I do, so much that I think even to refrain from saying that I miss him would be a lie of sorts...

After a month or so, my white hair had grown out to the point of looking positively ridiculous, the black with white roots, that is. So I had most of it cut off at some point. That wasn't terribly fetching, either, no. Even when it had returned to its previous length, still fairly short, it didn't look right, so I let it go. I don't believe I've actually cut it since. This is a way of telling you how the time passed. My hair already fell to my shoulders when I saw my old friends again.

I told Trevor often and in detail about my days at Oxford, and it was he who suggested that I visit there again. I don't blame him for what happened, however. Suffice to say it turned out very badly.

But I see what he intended. At first it was all of that. Some of my old friends were still in the area. Richard had sadly passed on from some infection---God rest his soul---and Robert had returned to his native Scotland to teach, but William had stayed at Oxford and become a professor. Seeing him again was among the happiest moments of my life.

***

Adrian sat in the lecture hall as the students filed out. He watched several of them come up to talk to his old friend William about the lecture. It shouldn't be so hard, he thought, just to walk up to him and introduce himself, maybe suggest going somewhere to eat, but he stayed in his seat. Partly he was afraid. William had been there when he was declared a vampire. But also he was aware of some selfish, perverse part of himself that wanted to be noticed without having to say anything. In the end, he sat there and watched, truly patient no matter what his motives were.

At last the room stood empty and silent except for the two of them, and William gathered up his things to leave, but just when he seemed ready to walk away, he looked up at his old friend. "Can I help you, sir?" he said.

"Yes," Adrian said, standing up. "I only wanted to see you... I don't know if you'll remember me, but we were students together here, years ago..."

"Ah, a fellow alumnus, always a pleasure," William said.

He doesn't recognize me. I should probably leave it alone, better that way... "Actually, no, I never graduated, but we were in a rooming-house together..."

William came closer to him, narrowing his eyes with scrutiny; suddenly, his face lit up. "Adrian!? Is it you?"

He nodded.

William reached him in two strides and threw his arms around him in an enthusiastic embrace. "Adrian! Well, I'll be... We all thought you were dead! Good God, what happened to your hair?"

"I'd... rather not talk about that..."

"Oh, no matter. Must've been rough on you, by the look of things... But no, I won't talk of that." William gave him a playful jab with a finger. "I'm going to take you to the old pub in town and we can talk about old times, tell you where everyone's gotten to."

"Yes, I'd like that very much." Adrian could feel the gulf between them, a void-space of experience unshared. Already William was starting to shore it up, but it would never be completely done. Those ten years of Adrian's life could never be shared. That gulf of secrecy would always remain.

***

We went out for drinks---what's so funny about that? Well, I did then, I'm not lying about it. But no, not so much now. Not once since then, in fact. But that still seems very recent to me...

But he told me what had become of my old friends, what had happened to Richard and Robert. He wanted me to stay until he could send for Robert to come see me.

And Joan, dear sweet Joan. She had been heartbroken when she recieved my last letter---you remember I told her I must never see her again. William and the others looked at it, and in their estimation I had written in the tone of one not long for this world, which I suppose I had. Upon hearing them say this, Joan eventually came to believe that I had met some horrible and terrifying demise, and at that she could come to terms with me breaking things off with her so abruptly. She grieved for me for some time, but at least she was certain that I had loved her to the end and had been so harsh still with thoughts and good wishes for her in my heart. And when I think about it, she wasn't all that far from the truth. The only flaw in the story is that I didn't die.

But she couldn't weep over me forever, nor would I wish her to. Years passed, and in time, she took other suitors. When I returned to Oxford, she had been married for several years. ---It was quite amusing, William said that when she finally chose a favorite suitor, he and Robert took the man down to our old pub, and sat him down and talked with him and questioned and poked and prodded him. At last they told him that they were friends of Joan and of her previous, tragically deceased fiancée---that being myself---and that in my abscence they were acting as my advocates, making certain that Joan didn't settle for some unworthy slob. He'd passed the test, they said, but they warned him to be good to her. The story goes that Robert told him "I'd treat her nicely if I were you, with how our Adrian passed on. Ugly stuff. He was a good friend through it all but"---here he leaned close and whispered---"He was a vampire." Ha ha!

I'm sorry, it really isn't funny at all. No, believe me, it isn't.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit... Well, yes, a bit jealous, but I was thinking more of--- Yes. Broken hearted, but in my head I knew that this was all for the best. After all, though William didn't know it, the horror I went through that made me send that letter would never be fully gone from me. I could never marry her, so better that she should be happy with someone else. He wasn't a wealthy man. He was a carpenter, I think, with just a simple house, but it seemed to me that she was happy. In my mind, I knew that was how it should be.

But no, I didn't feel that way. I ask myself over and over if that's the true reason why it happened the way it did... And maybe it is. I should have known better from the start. I should have gone with my head and thought it would only cause trouble... But I had to see Joan again. Surely you can understand that.

***

"Joan, who is this?" the man asked.

"Oh, this is Adrian!" Joan said excitedly, getting up from her seat beside him. "You remember, the man I was engaged to when I was younger."

A slight pause while the obstacle of tact was navigated. "Well, why's he here?"

"Sir, I don't mean any imposition," Adrian offered. "But I've been gone for many years, and I want to see old friends."

"Oh, Jack, surely you trust me," Joan cooed.

"Well, all right," he conceded. "But we don't have any extra beds."

"I won't be staying that long," Adrian said.

Jack nodded and left, presumably going back to his work.

Joan heaved a sigh of relief and sat back down beside Adrian. "Ah! That's my Jack. He's a dear, but I knew he wouldn't be too happy about you being here, since..."

"I have no intention of taking you away from your husband," Adrian said. "I'm glad you've found someone you can be happy with."

"What about you? Any of the girls back home catch your eye?"

"No," Adrian said. "No, in fact I've decided never to marry at all."

Joan gave him a concerned look.

"It's not your fault," he said. "It's just because of... my circumstances..."

"Yes, I can imagine. From that letter and..." she glanced at his white hair. "You must have been through something terrible."

"I can't even begin to tell you about it," Adrian said. "But I'm so glad to see you again. You're so... So beautiful and steady... Just, human virtue. After all the insanity I've been through..."

Joan edged closer to him and spoke more softly. "Sweetheart, tell me what happened."

"I mustn't do that. It would..."

"Don't you think I should at least know why you broke off our engagement? I can tell it's eating you up to keep it inside. It's like a fence between us, and you're trying to figure out how to get around it. It's all right. You could always talk to me."

Adrian nodded, slowly and nervously, then remained silent for some time. "Do you remember why I left?"

"You were sick."

"Do you remember why I was taken home to my father?"

"They said that the doctors there knew more about curing vampirism."

Again, he paused for some time. "They lied, Joan."

"What?"

"The messengers lied to get me away from here. There is no cure for my curse."

"So you're..."

With a deep breath, he set his jaw and spoke clearly. "I am as much a vampire now as I have ever been."

Joan raised a hand to her mouth, but slowly. It was not a gesture of fear, but one of sympathy, of recognition for the pain this fact caused him. "Oh, Adrian! That's why. Like that last night we were together... You wanted to protect me."

He nodded, as she reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder.

Suddenly, she whipped around as the door opened with a crash. Jack stood, framed in the doorway for a moment before striding into the room, bearing down on Adrian. "Get away from my wife, monster!"

"Sir, I---" Adrian stopped short as he realized with horror that Jack had a sharpened piece of wood in his hand.

"Jack, no! Stop it!" Joan cried, grabbing his free arm, but he was too strong for her to hold him back. Adrian darted to the side just as the stake descended and buried itself in the back of his chair.

"Wait!" Adrian shouted. "I won't hurt you! I won't hurt her!" He felt a solid surface against his back and turned his head to see a wooden frame around him. He had barely realized that he was in a doorway when Jack roared and leapt at him.

Their combined weight crashed through the door, and Adrian hit the ground with Jack on top of him. It knocked the breath out of him and sent his mind spinning in the confusion of violence. Words fought their way toward speech: I don't want to hurt you, but I won't let you kill me! Let me go! I WON"T LET YOU KILL ME! He never knew which of them were said and which were choked back by the pain that shot through him as the stake descended on him, over and over...

In the chaos, only one thing was still discernible, the pounding of his own heart as the blows rained down around it, sending that familiar strength surging through his body. Not only the strength, but will and rage. You're not going to kill me! Death didn't kill me, my father didn't kill me, and I SWEAR TO GOD YOU WILL NOT KILL ME!!! The thoughts blew through him, like gusts in the sails of a ship, not needing to be said, only lending their force. With a cry of pain and rage, Adrian seized that murderous hand, flung away the weight that pressed him down, wrestled it into submission. He was no longer aware of Jack, or the stake, or the heavenly-sweet taste of blood, only that it made the violence and danger go away, only that the more he drank from that fountain of strength, the more it made the pain go away...

It was Joan's screaming that brought him back to his senses. He looked up and saw the kitchen around him, saw her standing in the smashed-in doorway, staring at him wildly and screaming, and only then did he feel the warm liquid trickling down his chin and realize what it was. He turned and saw Jack laying lifeless on the floor, his hand wrapped loosely around the bloody wooden stake, his arm twisted into a sickening, broken shape. Adrian reached for the pulse-point in the graey-white flesh of his throat, only to find a bloody mark of teeth. With a glance at his blindly-staring eyes, there was no longer any need to confirm that the man was dead.

Desperately, Adrian turned. Joan had sunk to her knees, sobbing. "Joan," he started, full of remorse, but she recoiled from him, screaming with grief and fear.

He couldn't bear it any longer. The need to escape flooded his mind, and without thinking---for he was unable to think---he ran past Joan, just brushing her with silver wolf-fur that slipped easily between her body and the doorjamb. In long, surreally slow leaps of padded feet, he bounded out the door of the house and away into the woods.

Continued in Part 5