Evil from the Past
Author's Note: I do realise some people were quite unhappy about the last chapter (namely Cerse and Zeggy) but I cannot resist Anck-su-namun and Ardeth Bay. Especially Anck-su-namun. She will come in useful.
My honest thanks to the reviews for Chapter 9 (especially I AM EOWYN. You really try to keep up? Goodness, not even Manveri does that – I have to update her myself.) Thank you, Zeggy, for pointing out that I did have a lot of flames. I know it took a little long to update, but as long as Ithaca remained an unconquerable Humanities project, I could not type.
Well. After the detour of the Mummy Returns, I shall return to my poor sufferers.
Dinner with Dracula
Castle Dracula, Transylvania, 19th century
"I have no idea why I'm doing this," said Foaly, as he jammed a wrench furiously into the mass of wires beneath Dracula's machine. "I'm actually working for the people who killed Holly." Grinding his teeth in fruitless anger, he detached a small metal part and yanked it out with a lot of unnecessary force.
Hermione sighed. Brushing an irritating strand of brown hair out of her eyes, she flicked her wand at a machine part. "I thought it was because the vampires will set us free once this is done." Bright sparks bounced off the metal part and sparkled. "As to the machine's singular chemical-metabolism component, I've removed the requirement for unusual chemical make-up in the lifeform. Now any lifeform will suffice to provide the metabolic energy for the machine."
Artemis delicately connected a few wires. His eyes were blurry and very tired, but none of them dared slack for a moment. He raised his eyes momentarily, and met those of Captain Barbossa standing sentry by the laboratory door. The pirate gave him a lopsided leer. Artemis ducked his gaze and turned instead to Hermione.
"Do you expect me to believe, mademoiselle," he said coldly, "that you are truly so naïve?"
Hermione threw him a suspicious look, and went on magicking machine parts. Artemis went on. "Did you really think all this while they would go to the trouble to release us? Minds like Dracula's don't work that way. Once we have completed it, they will dispose of us."
Hermione glared at him. "Then why are you still working for them?"
Artemis rolled his eyes. "For someone of your intellect, you seem very ignorant of the facts. If we refuse to work, or so much as try to delay, they will dispose of us at once. And I think you would agree that it is preferable to have a few more hours of survival than to have none at all."
Hermione chose not to reply, and turned back to her work.
"That reminds me," called Foaly as he crawled out from under the machine pod. "Since they're going to dispose of us once we're done fixing this thing, haven't you got any ideas how to get out being disposed of?"
"It slipped my mind," admitted Artemis.
Foaly snorted. "Some geniuses we turn out to be."
Hermione finished another machine part and tapped it thoughtfully with her wand. "Although I've removed the part about unusual chemical-metabolism, won't that still mean Dracula will need a living thing to work this machine?"
"Of course it means that." Foaly positioned a few conductors. "How else do you think Dracula would make this machine work? He designed it to electrocute people so their energy could bring others to life. Didn't you know that already?"
"I doubt," came Artemis's voice from the other side of the machine. "She's very naïve, as I just found out."
Hermione had turned pale. "Electrocute people? But...but then we're aiding him to murder!"
Foaly shrugged. "Not like we have a choice. Besides, that's not the worse thing. I don't think you realised that the people he's bringing to life are his baby vampires? And that they're going to proceed to suck the blood of the whole world dry?"
Hermione gulped. "Can't...can't we do anything to stop it?"
Artemis got up and crawled carefully to Hermione's side. With a wary eye on Barbossa, he put a fairly large box on the floor in front of her. "Actually, I have an idea."
Hermione stared at the box and at him in confusion.
Foaly came over discreetly to join them. "You think you can stop the operation with this!" he guffawed. The other two waited for him to finish laughing. Finally he did.
"Well." He looked at the contraption, turned it over, and looked at Artemis. "I don't know if it will help at all, but at least it's something. Which is always better than nothing."
'Well? How are we getting on?"
Artemis kicked the box neatly into a corner behind them as the Count entered the room. He passed Barbossa, who turned and followed him as Dracula bore down upon the three of them. "How is it? Are we finished yet?"
Foaly glanced at the machine. "Almost. Actually, we only need a few finishing touches, and it'll be complete."
The Count laughed. There was an evil ring to it. "Excellent!" He clapped Foaly and Artemis on the shoulder, and did not notice as both winced involuntarily. "Now, if you'll hurry up, I shall be holding a little banquet tonight to celebrate this – new development. You three are invited. So, mop up quickly, and I'll get my three Brides to see if you need anything." He grinned jovially at them. Artemis forced an answering smile on his face.
"We are most grateful," he muttered with as much charm as he could muster in the presence of this monster.
Dracula laughed again, and swept out as quickly as he had arrived. Only Captain Barbossa remained, still leering his lopsided leer.
"I have a bad feeling about this," muttered Foaly broodingly.
Both trios faced each other from across the room, a stony silence between them. Aleera broke the silence, with what she presumed to be a pleasant smile. "Well. Our master bids us congratulate you on your excellent work and prepare you for the dinner."
Artemis realised that the other two were expecting him to answer for them. "Thank you," he said frostily.
Verona turned her gaze to Hermione, who tried discreetly to shake her unkempt hair back over her shoulder and hide the recent rips in her robe sleeves. "Our master desires that we help you get ready," she murmured. "The boy and the centaur are all very well, but as a young lady, my dear, you need to look your best." She looked meaningfully at Hermione. "You look most untidy, my dear. Won't you come with us so we can get you ready?"
Hermione shot a terrified glance at her and looked towards Foaly and Artemis for help. Artemis doubted the Brides meant well, but he badly needed a distraction to install his box. It would depend if Hermione was willing to take the risk.
"On one hand," he whispered in Hermione's ear, "I don't think they want to have you for dressing up only. But I need a distraction to get my plan in place, and you will provide the perfect one."
Hermione looked petrified, but swallowed bravely. "I'll go," she said, her voice nervous but clear. The Brides smiled and swept out of the room. Hermione followed. At the door she turned for a last glance at her fellow prisoners. Then she disappeared.
Immediately, Artemis put his plans into action. After making sure both the Brides and Barbossa were gone, he left the laboratory, sprinting down the winding stairs as quickly as he could with his box clutched to his chest. Out of a window, he saw a broken bridge spanning the two towers of Castle Dracula. That would have to do. Heart thumping, he raced onto the half of the broken bridge that connected to the tower he was on. He only hoped Hermione emerged from this distraction alive.
They were pulling a comb through her tangled tresses – it hurt, unbelievably painful, as each tangle resisted a brief moment, and then was ripped mercilessly apart. Hermione winced again as Verona plowed through the last few inches of her hair, tangles snapping and splitting as she went. At last, the Bride put the dreaded comb down. Hermione gingerly touched her aching head, wondering what they had in store next.
Hermione could hear them whispering as they drifted about her. Aleera paused behind her, resplendent in her own red-and-black gown. "What colour, do you think?"
"She's a plain thing," began Marishka, but Verona silenced her with a wave of a glittering green sleeve. "Say no more of such remarks," hissed the Bride. "She is good-looking enough. I say black."
"True," purred Aleera, running a sharp fingernail along Hermione's neck. Hermione could not hold back a shudder. "See how pale she is. She has such smooth skin...I like them young, don't you, Verona my dear?"
"I do agree." Verona frowned, comparing two black gowns. "In their youth mortals have such tender flesh. Marishka, which do you say is more fitting?"
"The one with lace sleeves." Marishka picked that one out and swept over to where Aleera was poised behind Hermione. "Girls especially. Their blood is so very sweet."
Hermione stared at herself in the ancient mirror. Wrought metalwork swirled about her white, drawn face. Behind her, Aleera's reflection was non-existent. The mirror also reflected neither Verona by the wardrobe, or Marishka coming up with the dress over her arm. She could not stop her continual shivering. This was a terrible, terrible nightmare.
"I want her," said Marishka petulantly. "It's not fair you two always take the best ones."
Aleera waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, you can have the girl when the Master's done with her. I promised the boy that I would deal with him."
"And leave me with the centaur," mused Verona. "I suppose I don't mind." She flashed her fellow Brides a dazzlingly diabolical smile.
Marishka placed the black dress in Hermione's lap and laid her cold hard hand on the girl's shoulder. Hermione's eyes flicked to it nervously, then back to her reflection. Apart from the slight impression in the cloth on her shoulder, there was no sign of the hand being there. She shut her eyes, her shoulders shaking as a wave of cold washed over her person.
"You're terrifying her, you know," reprimanded Verona.
Marishka giggled. "But isn't that the idea?"
She took her hand back, and all three Brides swept out of the room like an icy breeze on its way to a blizzard, leaving Hermione alone in the room.
Hermione tore her eyes away from the mirror. Her frame convulsed, and she clenched her hands in vain to stop the dreadful trembling. Her mind had deserted her, had been frozen blank, and all she could think about was the terrifying cold that the Brides had instilled in her, that overwhelming emotion that she had once called fear, but was so much more worse.
When Artemis returned to the laboratory, it was empty. A quick search of the surrounding rooms revealed his fellow compatriots in what seemed to be an abandoned dressing-room. Hermione was sitting in front of the dressing table, staring into space, hands locked in the crumpled black linen on her lap. Foaly was, rather helplessly, trying to get her to talk normally. In vain, as it appeared.
Artemis tentatively waved his hand in front of her face. Hermione did not even blink. He sighed.
"Look, Hermione, but we haven't got time for this. We are in a potentially dangerous situation. In fifteen minutes someone will come to escort us down to have dinner with Dracula. That, I am quite sure, is alarming enough to interrupt your, well, trance."
Hermione seemed to make a final effort to shake herself out of her frozen state. "F-fifteen minutes?"
"At last," muttered Foaly.
"I suppose I...I'd better get ready then." Hermione still looked traumatized. "It won't do to anger the Brides, I guess."
"Not at all," said Artemis, as he and Foaly turned to leave. They were at the door when Hermione said tremblingly, "Oh, and..."
They turned. Hermione's eyes were filled with desolation and the memory of the horror she had just experienced. "I understand now. About what you said. That I was really naïve. And now I know how – how evil they are." Her voice had no hope in it. "I think I had better hurry."
It was the first time that Artemis had been so close to the count. Dracula was seated at the head of the table, with Aleera on his left and Artemis on his right. Aleera caught Artemis's eye from across the table and smiled promisingly in her malicious way. Artemis chose to ignore that glance.
Hermione was in the chair between him and Foaly, not daring to look up because Verona was directly opposite her. On Verona's left, Marishka tapped her fork impatiently on her plate. Barbossa, on Foaly's right, was trying to engage Imhotep in conversation about his 'trip'.
Foaly looked to his left. He would never call Artemis vampirical again, not after seeing him next to Dracula. He moved his glance back to his own plate. Opposite him, Marishka raised her voice and called to Dracula. "My lord, why do the servants tarry so? We have waited long enough, and I – " Verona gave her a sharp glance. "Manners, Marishka!" she hissed under her breath. Marishka subsided.
Dwergi came and poured drinks. Artemis, who was very thirsty, took the glass flute and drank deeply. A metallic, sickly tang filled his mouth, beckoning a wave of nausea. He choked and almost dropped the glass. Struggling to regain his composure, he dabbed the edge of his mouth with a napkin. It came away with a crimson smear of blood.
Dracula was watching him, very amused. "I do apologize," he said when Artemis had stopped coughing. The count looked hardly apologetic. "I had – forgotten that we had human guests among us." He clapped his hands. The dwergi hurried up with glasses of water to replace the blood.
Dinner was an unnerving experience. Throughout the whole meal, which Dracula continuously assured them had nothing human in it (they had to take his word for it, because they hadn't eaten since their capture) Dracula grilled Artemis about the machine. Artemis ate mechanically, while his mouth spoke on, kept running on telling Dracula everything he wanted to know, and all the while his heart was jittering like a terrified bird in his ribcage and his head itself was blank and scared stiff. This, thought a random unfrozen part of his brain, must be what Hermione had gone through just now.
Barbossa, having failed to engage Imhotep in conversation, turned his attention to Foaly. Foaly was forced to patiently explain the workings of their machine to the uneducated pirate, and refrain from dumping his glass of water on Barbossa's rather ignorant head. He reminded himself again that he was an unappreciated genius.
Hermione said nothing, and ate very little.
At the end of dinner, Dracula nodded to his guests politely. "It has been a very pleasant evening, and I hope you enjoyed your dinner." Artemis could only nod numbly. "I really must thank you for all your work on my machine, which my associates and I do appreciate." Foaly restrained himself from snorting. "Now, I hope you will not protest when I ask you to grant me this last favour in my service. As you must be quite clear, I require some humans – or at least living beings, to conduct the next revival."
Hermione's mouth opened in a wordless gasp.
Dracula continued. "And I believe you would make the perfect sacrifice for this machine you have created for me."
Artemis's frozen mind managed to thaw out the realization that they were going to die.
Foaly hid his face in his hairy hands. "Why am I not surprised?"
Imhotep and Barbossa rose. "My associates," went on Dracula blithely, "will escort you to your new abode. I'd advise you not to resist."
There was no resistance. The fight had left all of them, even Foaly. They were herded out of the dining room and down several more corridors and flights of stairs, flanked by Imhotep and Barbossa. Dracula followed at a distance with his Brides.
They went down a final corridor with a massive triple-bolted door at the end. It took Imhotep all his strength to shove all three bolt out of their latches. As the door swung open, a blast of frozen air ruffled Hermione's bushy hair.
In the centre of the dismal cold room was a huge vertical rail that led up through the gaping ceiling and into the space beyond – a rail wide enough to attach around four or five pods containing human beings to – and there were two shivering figures huddled at the base of the rail, away from the immense ice blocks that were piled against the walls, radiating frost.
Alex looked up as Barbossa unceremoniously shoved the three new members of this prison through the door. "Look, Mom. We've got company."
Nobody spoke in a long while. Half an hour in a freezing prison cell, in the company of several giant ice blocks and machine pods, with the prospect of death before one's eyes, tends to minimise the desire for conversation.
Foaly glanced up through the open ceiling. Directly above them was a platform that jutted out above the broken bridge. He guessed that it was connected to the laboratory. This hypothesis was confirmed when he strained his neck to the side and managed to get a good view of the Dwergi shifting their machine and equipment and setting it up again on the platform. It was quite clear; they would be put into the pods in this prison cell, attached to the rail and sent up to be electrocuted. Murder methodically.
Artemis was meditating again, although how he could manage with his face going blue and his lips white, Foaly had no idea. Hermione was trembling beside the O'Connells, who were huddled together for warmth, Alex in Evelyn's embrace. Icicles were forming in Evelyn's and Hermione's hair.
But all the prisoners became alert at the sound of the bolts being drawn back and the door screeching open. Dracula and Barbossa stood at the door.
Leaving Barbossa to stand guard at the door, Dracula strode in, yanking Evelyn up by the arm and dragging her over to a pod, which he pushed her into and began strapping her down. "Oi!" yelled Alex, and hurled himself at Dracula's leg. A careless kick sent him slamming into the nearest ice block. Hermione put out her arm to steady the kid, but Alex was already on his feet and launching the next attack.
The count paid no more attention to him.
Evelyn was struggling madly. "What are you doing to me?" she screamed. "What are you doing!"
"You will see," replied the vampire coldly.
He attached the pod to the rail carefully, clamping it down. Then he called upwards in a booming voice: "It is ready."
There was no reply, but a whirring noise began. The conveyor strip crunched and began moving, sending Evelyn in the pod up towards the platform and the revival machine.
"Mom!" yelled Alex. "MOM!"
Evelyn tore at her bonds, but the metal straps resisted her frenzied struggling. Below her, Alex and Dracula grew smaller and smaller, till her son's anxious face was a dot in the darkness below. She looked up. The open sky above the platform was growing threateningly dark, storm clouds rushing in to gather above the castle. Already she was nearing the platform.
Evelyn O'Connell closed her eyes and prepared to meet her fate.
End of ChapterNext chapter coming...Through the Looking-Glass
In which Castle Dracula is broken into, there are some reunions and the pieces on this chessboard move into their positions for the final attack.