Chapter Fifteen: The Count's Spell
You wake in total darkness.
"It appears to me that Van Helsing has not been treating you well," hisses a voice, somewhere in the darkness. You stay silent, trying to keep your heartbeat steady. "No matter. There is still time." There is a clap and the candles flare up, revealing a frowning Count Dracula. Your hands are unbound, and the room is unfamiliar to you. It is heavily draped with red velvet. He walks up to you, hands behind his back. "I am surprised that Van Helsing sent you so much earlier than he had promised. I think I will give him two days until I kill him," he says. You glare at him. He smiles and flicks a piece of hair out of your eye. "And how are you, my dear?" He asks. You want to kill him, badly.
"I was forced to come here," you state. He laughs.
"Of course you were, my dear," he says, smiling, "But I guarantee you will not regret coming." He walks away towards the door. "Rest to your heart's content, Mira. And then join me down the hall," he says, before leaving quietly. You get up and look out the window. The room is very warm, you realize. Looking out the window, you recognize this as your castle. But you are in the tower that you have never before visited. It is strange that you are a prisoner in your own home. Lightning flashes and you jump at the violent crack of thunder. You should have fought Van Helsing harder, but it is too late now.
You look around the room. There is a dresser, a large mirror, a changing screen, and an enormous closet. Looking in the closet, you see an array of ball gowns; all various colors…and all your size. You slam the closet door shut in disgust and fling yourself back onto the bed. "Why did you do this to me, Gabriel?" You whisper. There is another flash of lightning and the thunder booms threateningly.
You lay there for almost an hour before even thinking about going down to meet Dracula.
The door opens again. You don't move. You are laying face down, pretending that you are asleep. The Count hovers over you. "Mira…" He says softly. You don't respond; you don't want to. "I know you are awake," he says, circling the bed.
"What do you want?" You say in a muffled voice, still not moving.
"You need nourishment, my love. You are weak," he says charismatically.
"I'm not hungry," you say quietly.
"Come, it will make you feel better," he assures, running a cold hand along your back. You quickly flip over in a shiver. He smiles at you and laughs softly. "Come," he says, holding out a hand. You look at his hand as if this is a foreign motion, and finally take it, getting up cautiously. He drops his hand and leads you by the waist, through the door and down the corridor.
"I don't understand of what use I am to you," you grumble, walking down the stairwell with him.
"You have many uses," he answers, walking soundlessly.
"Van Helsing is not coming for me," you say, "He doesn't want me." You do not let the lie show through your eyes. You force yourself to believe it and even get to the point of tears.
"Well, I want you, and I will have you, forever. Just, not yet," he states, frowning.
"Why don't you just take me now?" You ask, "Take me while I am weak."
"A bride must be strong," he explains, "Other humans will sustain me until you are ready." He does not look at you, but his expression is cold and loveless.
"I want to be loved," you state, looking directly at him, "Not used."
"Well, lucky for you, you get both," he says dryly, as if he is starting to get annoyed with you. Then he seems to relax as you enter the dining hall. "You will learn," he assures. He waves his hand at the food set upon the table. "Eat. I will return." He leaves you to your own will; a mistake on his part. But you know there is no point in trying to escape because he will just track you down again. So you sit down reluctantly and have something to eat. You hate to admit it, but the food is very good and you take quite a bit, only to realize that you should not eat so much because it will make you stronger; and the weaker you really are, the weaker you can make yourself seem.
Almost immediately after you finish, Dracula re-enters.
"Feeling better, my dear?" He asks. You stare at him glumly. He smiles, putting a cold arm around you and leading you up the stairs once again. "I do hope you will attend my ball tomorrow evening. It has been so long since this castle has thrown a proper one for the holidays," he says. You don't answer. You are just wishing desperately that Van Helsing will come to save you. But you know you still have a while yet. "I believe there is a beautiful red ball gown in your closet that would look perfect on you," Dracula says.
"How about blue or white," You counter quickly; not looking at him.
"But, my dear…red is my favorite color. And so fitting for the occasion," he says charmingly. You walk down the corridor, trying not to cringe too much at his touch. "Soon, you will be accustomed to being cold," he says, his eyes gleaming. You resist the urge to deny this remark.
"Why me, Vladislaus?" You ask, stopping him and looking at him. He seems surprised at this question, as if he would never expect it to come from you. The lightning flashes off of his face. Frightened, you step back away from him, but he follows.
"You are beautiful," he says in a low voice, "And strong…" He steps unbearably close to you and presses you gently against the wall. Hypnotized, you don't resist when his lips touch yours for what seems like an eternity. But he stops before going too far, somehow realizing that you might have limits to such activity. He smiles at you. "Hm," he says and then continues leading you in silence, as if he is contemplating deeply. You are now walking in drowsiness, half hypnotized and half aware. One half of you is saying to have enjoyed that thoroughly. The other half is resenting it. You wonder which is the right one.
"You know something about me," you say, glaring at him. He smiles secretively to himself.
"Yes, and if you're a good girl, maybe I will tell you," he chuckles. You cringe. He leads you into your room. "As you've probably guessed, these are your current staying quarters. In a couple nights, I will move you somewhere much better furnished…more…comfortable, if you're good." He releases you and goes into the closet, returning with a deep red dress; the color of blood, no mistake. "And this is what I would have you wear tomorrow evening," he says, laying the dress over a chair. He pulls out a pocket watch, looking at the time. "Well. It is growing late. I think you best retire, my love," he says, pulling you close by the waist again. He scarcely kisses you again; but it is more like he is gently touching your lips with his in more of an exploring manner. It is slowly trapping you within his spell.
"Don't…" You whisper, tears in your eyes. His lips slide down over your neck, caressing but not biting. He lays you gently upon the bed. You are now partially hypnotized and fast approaching a dreaming state.
"I think you will enjoy your stay here, Miss DeLune…" He whispers fiercely, pulling the covers over you, "In fact, I promise it." With a clap, the candles go out and you are once again in darkness. You easily fall into sleep, with the Count's spell heavy upon you.