Chapter III

Van Helsing still felt the kiss burning on his lips when he entered the camp. He

fell upon his bed without bothering to undress; so eager was he to allow sleep to overtake him and calm his mind. All he wanted was a sleep without dreams but old memories continued to rise in his mind. Vladislaus the Cruel, Vlad Tepes, Vlad the Impaler, Vlad who looked so much like his mother and was rumored to have inherited her insanity as well. Vlad with his charm and his voracious appetite for women. Vlad who hated his wife and loved the foreigner. Vlad who was doomed to love an angel...Finally his eyes closed and he slept.

And suddenly he was dreaming and they were on the bed together, naked, and he was kissing him with a desire that surprised him.

"Gabriel," the younger man moaned, pressing against him with ardor.

This was a dream, he was sure of it, but it was so much preferable than his usual nightmares. In fact, he could not remember ever having a pleasant dream but it was so hard to remember anything right then but his name, and he was sure he only remembered that because he kept hearing it whispered over and over.

"Gabriel, oh my sweet, sweet, Gabriel..."

Gabriel continued to kiss him, his hands moving all over his body as Vlad shuddered, both of them aroused to the point where it was painful. He continued to caress him, deliberately prolonging the moment.

"Vlad, I love you."

"And I love you, Gabriel."

A bright red drop slid down his chin as he spoke.

"Vlad, are you alright?"

"I..."

Blood bubbled up in his mouth and he began to choke as Gabriel watched in horror. More blood streamed down his stomach from a deep gash between his ribs. A cloud of red spread across the bed sheets.

"It hurts," he whispered. Gabriel pulled away from him.

"I'll get help" was all he could think to say.

His lover clung to him. "Gabriel, my Gabriel, don't leave me. Don't leave me alone in the dark."

Van Helsing held him close, rocking him gently, and wiping his mouth with the corner of a blanket. Those fascinating eyes darkened and it was a corpse that he held in his arms. But then the eyes opened wide and their expression was angry, even hostile. He almost dropped him in surprise but his arms felt too leaden to move.

"Gabriel, my love, why did you kill me?" he hissed.

The vampire bit deep into his throat and Van Helsing awoke, startled.

I don't know. My God, I don't know.

Dracula shut the door behind him and shook the snow from his cloak. He stood in the doorway, his eyes passing lazily over the room.

"You can come out now if you wish."

One corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile when he saw the person who stepped out from behind one of the doors.

"Your name is Carl, am I right?"

He nodded, too terrified to speak. Dracula was suddenly aware of his frantic heartbeat. The blood pulsing in the mortal's veins pounded out its rhythm in his ears. Slowly, he ran his tongue over his lips. No, he chided himself. Think of Gabriel. Gabriel would not want this one harmed.

"Why are you here?"

"Van Helsing...I followed him. I was...I was afraid for him," the friar managed to stammer out.

"How long were you here?"

"Long enough. I heard the whole conversation."

"And now what do you think?"

The friar studied the floor, carefully choosing his words. "God, I hate you."

"Ah, so you love him as well."

There was no response. He had not expected one anyway. His eyes closed but he opened them again in surprise.

"You are hurt."

"It's only a scratch. I mishandled a knife. Afraid I'm not much of a warrior."

The smell of the blood was intoxicating. His eyes fluttered shut again and now it was the vampire who trembled.

"You need to leave. Now."

The friar stepped backward.

"Run, you fool!"

Carl ran but not fast enough. Cold arms held him in an iron grip. He twisted himself around and met the vampire's hypnotic gaze. He fought it with all the will he could muster but soon surrendered to the promises of the black depths. Icy lips traced their path over his throat and Carl couldn't tell if it was the vampire or he who moaned at the sensation. The sharp pain of the fangs penetrating his skin did nothing to break the spell and the two, entwined, sank down to the floor.

Dracula shivered as he swallowed the first mouthful of blood. It was not the blood of a virgin as he had expected but still wonderfully sweet. As he drank the image of Gabriel flashed suddenly and terribly in his mind. Gabriel counted this one as his only friend in the world. There would be no forgiveness if this one died. Summoning up every ounce of his self-control, he pulled away and the shock of it almost made him fall. He turned to Carl and shook him gently, noting his white face and shallow breathing. And although he hated himself for it, he could not stop himself from licking the last drops of blood from his throat.

I am sorry, Gabriel, so very sorry.

He knew it was wrong to leave Carl lying there on the floor but he didn't trust himself enough to touch him. He would take care of him when he returned. His hunger had only been whetted, not abated, so while Carl lay as one dead on the floor, a demon spread its wings and circled into the night sky.

Van Helsing heard the snap of a twig and grabbed his knife. Carl stumbled into camp and collapsed in the clearing.

"Carl?"

He turned him over and felt for his pulse. It was weak but steady.

"Carl, what happened?" he asked, knowing full well that there would be no reply. On sudden instinct Van Helsing examined his neck. Two small puncture wounds were accentuated by his unhealthy paleness. A vampire bite.

"Gabriel, I didn't mean to."

He jumped involuntarily and turned to find the vampire directly behind him.

"I am sorry, Gabriel, but he followed you, you see, and I didn't know this until you left. And he was so, so alive, Gabriel, and his heartbeat was pounding in my head."

"So you almost killed him, you little shit!" Van Helsing shouted as he grabbed the vampire by his shoulders and began to shake him. "Killing Anna wasn't enough for you. You have to take everything I love away from me. I thought I was wrong about you, Vladislaus. I thought that you still partly retained your humanity. But you're a monster and I swear to God that I will send you back to hell."

"Gabriel, forgive me, I did not want to harm him. I tried not to. I told him to run but his heart began to beat faster and louder so I lost control. You cannot understand what a hunger, what a lust consumes the undead, my Gabriel, and how thankful I am that you will never understand it. It was the thought of you that enabled me to pull away. Gabriel, I did not try to hurt you by hurting him. Believe me," he pleaded.

Van Helsing left him and went back to Carl. Out of the corner of his eye he watched the vampire until he left.

"Damn you, Vladislaus," the vampire whispered quietly to his empty room. "Damn you."

He stared at the mirror that reflected everything in the room but him.

"I hate you."

He was sure that if he could see his reflection it would be smiling at him. In fact, he knew it was smiling at him. Mocking him.

"Stop it," he said, agitated.

For a second, he thought he caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror. He turned away from it and then he heard it start laughing. Its demonic laughter rang in his ears and grew in volume every second. Vladislaus punched his fist through the glass.

"I told you to shut up!"

The glass cut his dead flesh and he delicately licked the drops of blood off his hand before it healed. The laughter, however, did not stop. He covered his ears with his hands and when he lowered them a few minutes later, it was quiet. After waiting cautiously for a minute, he undressed and slid under the covers of his bed. Tonight he could at least pretend to be alive. Tombs held no allure for the living.

You're cracking up, Vladislaus. Going to end up just like your mother. Lonely, miserable, jealous bastard, aren't you? Damned from the start. And all because I wanted heaven. I wanted heaven but even hell found itself too good for me.

He wanted his brides right then, missed them, needed them, wanted them to be with him. Not a sexual need but a simple hunger for the touch of another. He wanted them to hold him, to kiss him, to just lie next to him. He had loved them, he realized right then, but in a selfish sort of way. Not in the way he loved Gabriel. The brides could never fill the emptiness. Only Gabriel could. His Gabriel. Sweet, sweet Gabriel.

He was overcome by a wave of lust and felt himself grow aroused. Vladislaus tried to ignore it. It just served to remind him that his lust for Gabriel was almost as strong as his love for him. And Gabriel would never give in; he was too pure, too holy, he was an angel in human form, dammit, and the thought of sex had probably never entered his mind. But what about the Valerious girl, Anna? He seemed to want her. And when you kissed him, he didn't fight it. He let you kiss him. One could almost believe he enjoyed it.

At the memory of kissing Gabriel he couldn't stop himself from becoming erect. He wanted him so badly that he ached. If he had been human, he would have cried but he was dead and the tears wouldn't come. He started laughing instead and found that he couldn't stop. His laughter rose to a shriek as he clawed at his face with his nails. Dead, dead, dead! Tears of blood traced sticky trails down his face; the only tears he was able to shed.

Damn you, Vladislaus. Damn you to the hell from which you crawled.