Bewildered and overwhelmed, Olrox paced the long aisles of bookshelves, taking care not to get himself lost in the labyrinthine library. He seldom came here, the peaceful rooms stirring up an inexplicable homesickness in the vampire. But this time he was a man on a mission, and his purpose successfully staved off any gloomy thoughts he might have slipped into otherwise.
'What on God's green earth does a twelve-year-old girl read?' Olrox mused, staring at the intimidating walls of literature that seemed to stretch on without end.
Books crowded the shelves, leather-bound relics and musty tomes hunched next to volumes that seemed relatively new. Sighing, Olrox began walking slowly down an arbitrary aisle, reading the titles, most of which were unfamiliar or illegible, the monotonous soft thud of his index finger against the book spines the loudest sound in the whole vast room. He walked for hours, picking up likely books, putting them back, finding another. Finally, he stumbled on something he was familiar with; easing the lightly worn copy of "Paradise Lost" from between its neighbors, Olrox gently blew the thin veneer of dust from the cover and thumbed through the pages, deliberating. Milton seemed just a little heavy for a twelve-year-old, though she did seem mature for her age... 'Well, at worst, she'll lose interest in it, I suppose.' Cradling the book in one hand, he continued his excursion, wondering, only half jokingly, if he should have brought a ball of string with him to mark his path.
A three-hour search had yielded the book of Milton and a dog-eared "Robinson Crusoe." The sheer size of the library was staggering; Olrox wisely decided that it was time to give up for the moment. He'd fed early in the evening, and if he waited too long to check on his charges, he might be hungry again.
Turning a corner near where he supposed the entrance had been, Olrox found himself with a clear line of sight to the large desk that lay not far from the door. A wizened old man with a stupendously long beard perched in the high chair behind the mammoth desk. 'Now, how long has he been here; that spot was dusty and covered in cobwebs when I walked in.'
Assuming that, since there was an attendant, it would be rude to simply walk out, Olrox approached the desk and handed the two books over into the librarian's outstretched hand. The librarian peered at the titles, lifting his spectacles with his fingers and tilting his face to look through them.
"Found something, then, have we?" he wheezed. Even his voice sounded dusty and unused. He picked up a quill, shook the cobwebs and dust from it, and wrote down the names and a short description of the books themselves in a thin, spidery handwriting. Peering over his lenses, he regarded Olrox for the first time. "Not many that bother with this place anymore."
Under the old man's scrutinizing gaze, Olrox couldn't help feeling a twinge of embarrassment. "They're for a friend who's...who's bedridden," he muttered lamely, knowing as he said it that he'd have been better off keeping quiet.
"For one of your kind, you're a terrible liar, Young Master," the librarian said softly; but instead of taking offense, the man's eyes twinkled with mirth. He chortled to himself, with an odd mixture of benevolence and insanity notable in the voice, and gently shoved the books across the desk.
Olrox had saved the books until last, first taking care of the other women's food and firewood. Taking Maria her meal, he set the books down on the table without ceremony. Maria looked at the books as a smile grew on her small face. She turned to Olrox and asked if they were for her. He nodded.
Delighted with the present, the girl leapt forward to hug the vampire before Olrox could step aside. "Oh, thank you, Domn Trandafir! I've been so bored in here."
"Don't!" Shoving her away more roughly than he'd meant to, Olrox stepped back, and, flustered, looked down at Maria, who looked confused and hurt. He sighed. "You mustn't do that ever again, Maria. Don't even come near to me."
Maria started toward him, but at a gesture from Olrox she held back. "But you wouldn't hurt me..." She halfheartedly tried to look at the floor, but Olrox held her gaze.
"You don't know that, Maria; you've only known me for a day."
"But you're so kind to me," Maria began again.
"Kind?" Olrox snapped, glaring at her. The girl shrank back and Olrox regretted being so harsh. He continued, gently but sternly. "Think of what I am, copil. Think of what I could do to you." 'I hate to think of that, myself.'
Maria sniffled, then seemed to pull herself together and stand straighter. "If you were going to hurt me, you'd have done it by now. So, I suppose...you're not going to." She looked fairly confident in this, and sat down to watch the fire.
'I hope for your sake that you're right, Maria.' Olrox felt a soft pull at his heart, and took that as a cue to leave. As he reached the door, a quiet voice stopped him.
"Domn Olrox?"
Olrox turned. Maria sat staring at the fire; then, she turned to look up at him. She paused for a long while. She fidgeted with her skirts and said, "I want to go home."
Olrox's face fell. What could he say? He didn't know why she was here; he didn't know when she could go home, if ever. He fervently hoped that Vlad didn't have any ill intentions for her. What to say? Finally, sighing, he said, "I know exactly how you feel." Opening the door, he stepped through, locked it, and left.
The next week, Olrox overheard many hallway gossips. Every creature had the same words on his, her, or its lips: Richter Belmont had broken in, and no one knew where exactly he was.
The castle was abuzz with activity. Vlad had told Olrox to be very careful and avoid sections of the castle that had spotted the slayer, so instead the young vampire was kept busy organizing the castle's occupants, vainly trying to fence the human in. It was impossible; news of Belmont's whereabouts just couldn't reach Olrox fast enough to be of any use. He was getting the sneaking suspicion that Vlad had set him this task to keep him out of the way.
He also suspected that Vlad was letting the human live. He had no idea why. Sitting at his desk, quill poised in one hand over another futile set of instructions to a group of creatures near the Marble Gallery, Olrox puzzled over the whole affair. Obviously, the women had been used as bait; Annette and Maria's testimonies confirmed that much. But what was the man's connection to Vlad, and why was he important enough that Vlad would let him terrorize the castle so?
Standing with a snort of frustration, Olrox began walking in the general direction of Vlad's small study, hoping to meet the older vampire, unlikely as that was. He'd decided that he was growing very tired of being kept ignorant.
Olrox was walking quickly through one of the many cramped, neglected back hallways, becoming even more peevish while trying to find his way, when he very nearly walked right into someone. Checking himself a hairsbreadth from a nerve-racked Jan, Olrox stepped back and they stared at one another for an awkward moment. 'Was I really so oblivious that I didn't notice him coming? I could have hurt him.'
Something about the way the boy just stood there, wringing his hands and wide-eyed, suddenly struck Olrox as being funny, and he smiled for the first time that night. "Hello again. I'm terribly sorry; I nearly sent you sprawling, didn't I?"
Olrox's voice seemed to jolt Jan out of his startled trance. "I'm so sorry, domnule, I wasn't looking where I was going and-"
Olrox silenced him with an impatient wave of his hand. "Never mind. There was no harm done." Taking an opportunity to speak casually, he went on. "We both seem in a hurry. What has you not looking where you're going, if I may ask?"
Jan seemed to shrink imperceptibly into himself. "Just thinking." Out of nowhere, he added, "I've seen the Belmont man."
That was interesting. Olrox raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
Jan nodded, blushing with embarrassment at the attention. "Just yesterday."
"And did he merit what's said of him?"
The boy shrugged and shifted his weight. "He looked tired. I thought I'd speak with him, but," he looked down at the ground, "I was too afraid. I suppose I've been here too long. I wouldn't know what to say."
Jan shied back when Olrox moved to lay a hand on his shoulder, so the vampire settled for a sympathetic frown. "I'm sorry." They stood quietly for a few seconds, and an idea started in the back of Olrox's mind. "Where did you say you saw the human?"
Jan looked up. "He was under that big staircase that opens into the south gallery. If you don't mind, sir, I think I'll be on my way."
Olrox smiled. "Of course. I should be going as well. Nice to see you, Jan."
Jan blushed again and hurried off. Leaning against the wall, Olrox's lips twitched upward at the corners at the thought... He didn't need to say one word to Vlad if he could find out about the Belmont by going straight to the source. Vlad needn't be bothered at all, in fact. Changing direction at the next junction, Olrox found himself running, and a little tickle of excitement almost made him laugh aloud.
Even as he was running, he was telling himself what a bad idea it was to seek out a slayer when he was still so green. At the same time, however, it was an irresistible thrill, to see the person who had the entire castle checking their rooms and locking their doors before they slept.
Hours later, Olrox descended the staircase from the Marble Gallery. He'd expected the human to be long gone, but checked underneath just in case. Surprisingly enough, there was a human asleep there. 'He must be using this spot as a camp for now.'
The human looked to be not quite as tall as Olrox. He carried the grime of days spent trekking through the castle, his brown hair tangled and his face and clothes smudged with dust, dried blood, and other substances probably best left unknown. He'd wrapped his long blue coat around himself for warmth, and one gloved hand was tightly clutching the handle of a heavy whip. It, too, was stained with use.
Knowing that he was courting disaster, Olrox slowly crept closer, hardly daring to breathe, walking as softly as he could until he was near enough to crouch down before the slayer. Feeling decidedly restless, as though the slayer was triggering some hidden instinct to flee, Olrox nevertheless leaned in even closer, until he could feel the warmth of the human's breath on his face. Studying the new face, Olrox took note of the dark rings around Belmont's eyes, and the tenseness of the man's muscles, as though he was exhausted, and yet didn't trust his surroundings enough to really sleep. 'He probably hasn't slept in several days...'
Then, on an insane impulse, Olrox reached out one shaky hand and touched the human's face, grinning at how soft and warm the skin was, and at the roughness of the stubble. Sleeping, the Belmont looked harmless, pathetic, and Olrox knew that, for the moment, he had the advantage. If he bit now, he perhaps could kill the human before Richter even knew what was happening. However, Vlad obviously wanted him left alive. 'And he did warn me about slayers. I don't know what this man could do. It's best if I let him alone..." Succumbing to his growing unease, Olrox stood and left the human, making his way back to his quarters, his curiosity slaked for a time.
When he retired to bed that morning, another, far more rebellious idea was beginning to take shape.
The tengu looked on in interest as Olrox bustled around his study, grinning, tidying, and making several minute adjustments that seemed needlessly neurotic to Torio's eyes. He chuckled. "And is the caged bird preparing for another night of work, or has your confinement driven you mad so soon?"
"Not tonight, my friend, not tonight," Olrox answered as he locked a stack of papers inside a desk drawer, looking up at his sole confidant with a conspiratorial wink.
"Going to the dungeons?" Torio guessed.
The vampire laughed and shook his head. "Already fed; can't you tell?" He indicated the faint flush in his cheeks. "Don't bother guessing because you never will."
A sound of ruffling feathers could be faintly heard, and Torio glared. "Now, that's a fine thing to see. You don't even trust me enough to tell me what you're up to. And it's no good, I know, from the way you're smiling..."
"Oh, stop pouting, Torio-kun," Olrox soothed, leading his friend to the door by the arm. "Of course I trust you. It's just that you have an ear for gossip and two mouths...er, beaks."
The bird-spirit scowled. "You doubt my honor?"
Olrox put up his hands. "No! Never. But I'm afraid this is something I'll have to tell you after the fact." He went on before the tengu could protest. "And I haven't told anyone else, so you needn't feel offended."
With that, Olrox bid Torio good evening and left for the hallway that housed his human charges, jangling the keys softly in his pocket and humming.
On his way down one of the larger main corridors, Olrox's good mood was abruptly shattered when he caught sight of one of his least favorite persons walking toward him. Or rather, his good mood was shattered when said person caught sight of him and stopped Olrox with a raised hand and an important look.
Olrox sighed and fought back the impulse to snarl. "Good evening, Father." Shaft, a priest turned warlock, was in Olrox's opinion, a lunatic. However, he was also very powerful, and as distasteful as Olrox found it, it was best to be polite.
Shaft peered disdainfully up at Olrox. Aside from Vlad himself, the dark priest wasn't fazed by much, and seemed to be thoroughly unimpressed with Dracula's chosen second-in-command. "The Master has just sent for you. He is down this hall, five doors on the right."
Olrox nodded. "I'll see to it as soon as I've done with-"
"You'll see to it now, Domn Tradafir," Shaft interrupted briskly, "and you'll show more respect for your creator and master, if you're wise, which I doubt." Continuing on his way, he left Olrox standing alone in the middle of the hallway, fuming.
'I'll see to it, and that's all you need be concerned with, bulangiu.' Grumbling, Olrox resumed his journey, and when he reached the fifth door on the right, which turned out to be the large double doors leading into the audience chamber, Olrox kept right on walking.
After seeing to the needs of his charges, Olrox lingered in Maria's chamber. A half-formed plan hovered in his mind, but he continued it with no small measure of trepidation. Whatever Vlad had planned for Maria, the child didn't deserve it. He had grown fond of her in the weeks that she'd been in the castle, and he'd seen, in a scant few days, her boldness degenerate into a quiet, consuming, and very desperate fear. Each day, Olrox saw that she was a little less well-rested, that she ate a little more hesitantly, that she spoke a little less readily. 'She's only a child, after all...'
He was surprised when Maria looked up from her meal almost at once and asked, "What is your family like?"
Glancing up at her from the key ring he'd been fidgeting with, he found himself answering, hardly missing a beat, although he hadn't expected any more light conversation. "They live far to the west of here, almost as far into the country as it's possible to be. My father is a paltry nobleman, my mother is an Englishwoman."
"What is she like?"
Olrox faintly smiled. "She's fair, like you, and good-humored, and very British. Overly fond of tea... Father worships the ground she walks on."
Maria genuinely smiled at that, as Olrox suspected she would, and that in turn improved his mood, strengthened his resolve. "Do you have brothers and sisters?" Maria asked, "I always thought it would be lovely to have a little sister."
Olrox felt the teeth of the keys in his hand. "I had two older brothers, and an older sister. She came back from her studies in France a few months before..." Olrox fumbled, apologetically, "And my eldest brother is married, and his daughter will be three shortly."
Sympathetically, Maria said, "They probably miss you. Couldn't you visit them?"
Seeing how earnest she was, Olrox softened the sharp words he'd been about to speak. "If it was that simple, copil, I would be there now. They are better off not knowing."
Continuing on with her supper, Maria said, half in reassurance, "I miss my family, too."
That was the final nudge Olrox needed. Poorly thought out or not, he'd have to try at something while the opportunity lasted. "Maria," he said, standing, "Richter is here. He has been for days; I've seen him myself." Her face brightened. Olrox smiled. 'If I am successful, it will be worth the worst of Vlad's anger.' "He won't let anything happen to you. You'll be home soon, I promise."
He left without another word. He had to leave; he had so much still to do tonight. Returning to the gallery staircase, Olrox blessed whatever providence was smiling on him. The Belmont man was still there, hastily eating a meager piece of chicken, whip close to hand.
'Now, it must be now, or I'll lose my nerve.' Looking down on the human from the stairs, Olrox jangled the key ring, jumping back as Richter looked up. Olrox heard a scrabbling noise, then footsteps. Giving the keys another quick shake, Olrox dashed up to the landing, down the hallway, and around a corner. There he waited, risking only quick glances toward the landing.
After what seemed a small eternity, Olrox spied the human standing at the top of the stairs, looking around, confused. Olrox shook the keys again, loudly, and saw the human's head snap in his direction. He ducked away, listening to the footsteps long enough to be sure he was being followed, then dashed away again.
In this way, Olrox slowly led Richter Belmont closer to the women's cells, careful never to let the slayer see him, leading him by sound. He wondered, as his heart raced, and he shivered with fright and exhilaration, if the human thought he was being led into a trap. 'As long as he follows...'
Eventually, Olrox reached the hallway that led to the cells. Remembering just in time that that hallway was a dead end, he threw the key ring to the floor, ducking into an adjoining corridor and running, not waiting to see if the keys were picked up.
Olrox didn't stop running until he was outside the door that Shaft had told him Vlad was waiting in. Taking a moment to compose himself, Olrox knocked. He would rather have gone straight back to his own chambers, he felt nauseous, but he'd already made the older vampire wait too long. Hearing Vlad's voice from within the room, Olrox took a deep breath and opened the door.
Vlad was clearly irritated. "You're late." That simple, emotionless statement sent a shudder through Olrox's frame. "Why?"
Folding his hands behind his back to keep from wringing them, Olrox looked at the floor for a minute, gathering his wits. "I'm sorry, Master. I ran into the slayer." It wasn't a lie. 'Merely bending the truth a bit.'
Immediately, Vlad's expression changed from one of anger into one of concern. He walked over to Olrox, checking for injury. "Are you all right?"
Olrox looked up at his elder. Vlad was clearly worried, and Olrox felt an inexplicable pang of guilt. "Yes," he answered, as he was pulled into a tight hug. "I ran before he had a chance to do anything. I suppose I wasn't paying attention as I should have been, and he surprised me. I managed to lose him after a minute or so."
"Never, never again," Vlad all but whispered, "You must be more careful, copil." Vlad combed his fingers through Olrox's hair (which was loose, Olrox noted; he must have lost the ribbon somewhere during the evening), and Olrox realized that he would be punished for his 'carelessness.' Only, not just yet, Vlad was too shaken now himself for that. Later, however, was an entirely different matter.
And he was right. Olrox awoke the next evening to find that his door was locked from the outside. A blood filled chalice set on the floor before the door; it was already cooling, so Olrox gulped it down quickly. He collapsed into a chair, his mind still tired from the previous night. Mechanically, he chipped away at a stack of paperwork, wondering what he'd do with himself before Vlad's inevitable appearance. He was itching to know what had become of his key ring, but, as much as he hated it, he'd have to be patient for the time being, or risk endangering himself more than he already had. 'I suppose, in a way, I can thank Vlad for locking me in, then.'
In a matter of hours, Olrox had changed his mind. The two pints or so of blood he'd had at the start of the evening hadn't been filling to begin with, and now he was hungry again. Resting his head in his left hand while he drummed his right fingers on the desk, he glanced up at the clock, sighed, swore, and shifted position. Later, he paced, picking up a book or another small object, looking at it, losing interest, and setting it down again, looking at the clock. He muttered and grumbled. It was nearly dawn now, according to the time, and he'd had two pints of cool blood from a cup. He was weary, more so than usual, but the pain made him restless.
With a sick headache, Olrox found himself studying his wrist. 'I wonder...' Raising it to his lips, and for some reason thankful that no one was watching, he bit into it, wincing when the artery was pierced. But it was blood, and, God, he was so hungry.
When he made himself pull back Olrox found that he had slid down onto the floor. The pain in his chest had lessened slightly, but he was more tired than before. He looked at the clock. 'Nearly eight. The sun's been up for an hour or so.' Miserable and frustrated, Olrox dragged himself to bed. At least he wouldn't ache while he was sleeping.
Richter didn't know who had left the keys to the ladies' cells lying there for him to find, but whoever it was, the slayer was grateful. Annette and her two friends were safe, and Maria walked beside him, as she had insisted. To Richter's surprise, she had actually proved to be very useful, and her cheerful company was a welcome relief in this place. With his free hand, he fingered the black ribbon he'd found. They were walking through a stretch of hallway that was so destitute of life, or unlife, that it was really rather boring.
Maria's eyes caught the odd movement. "What is that?" Richter glanced down and absently handed the ribbon to her. "Oh," she said, after a moment, "it's Domn Trandafir's hair ribbon. I hope he has another one. He's such a goose; I kept telling him and telling him to tie it tighter."
"What?" Richter queried, utterly lost.
Brightening even more at the chance to talk, Maria explained. "Oh, Richter, he was terribly kind. He was our warden, but he brought me books to read, and he asked what I'd like for supper, and we talked and talked, and his ribbon was always falling out, or about to fall out, or loose, and I'd retie it, and sometimes he let me braid his hair to give me something else to do, but once I got it tangled in knots and I must have pulled his poor hair awfully hard getting them untangled again, and-"
Richter tried valiantly to keep pace with the quick flow of words. "Your warden was human?" That was odd; he certainly hadn't seen any normal people here.
Maria shook her head. "No, no, he was a vampire, like the one who kidnapped us; but he was really very nice."
Ah, that was it. Richter sighed. "Maria, please don't tell me you've forgotten what I've told you about those monsters already."
The girl huffed. "I haven't forgotten. But he wasn't like that at all; he never hurt any of us, and he didn't want to. If you met him-"
"If I met him, I'm sure I would have conceded that he was a very good actor. Vampires are natural liars, Maria. Please, let's not argue about this anymore."
They continued walking in silence, Maria pouting, and Richter musing, a little disturbed at what his fiancée and her sister had been in such close contact with.
##
Olrox's pissy mood brought to you by Limp Bizkit's "Break Stuff." That's what happens when you write while listening to the radio. Don't let it happen to you.
Bulangiu-English equivalent of bastard
I know, I know, I said I'd do better this time. I didn't. I'm sorry. Busy. Tired. Miscellaneous excuses.
'What on God's green earth does a twelve-year-old girl read?' Olrox mused, staring at the intimidating walls of literature that seemed to stretch on without end.
Books crowded the shelves, leather-bound relics and musty tomes hunched next to volumes that seemed relatively new. Sighing, Olrox began walking slowly down an arbitrary aisle, reading the titles, most of which were unfamiliar or illegible, the monotonous soft thud of his index finger against the book spines the loudest sound in the whole vast room. He walked for hours, picking up likely books, putting them back, finding another. Finally, he stumbled on something he was familiar with; easing the lightly worn copy of "Paradise Lost" from between its neighbors, Olrox gently blew the thin veneer of dust from the cover and thumbed through the pages, deliberating. Milton seemed just a little heavy for a twelve-year-old, though she did seem mature for her age... 'Well, at worst, she'll lose interest in it, I suppose.' Cradling the book in one hand, he continued his excursion, wondering, only half jokingly, if he should have brought a ball of string with him to mark his path.
A three-hour search had yielded the book of Milton and a dog-eared "Robinson Crusoe." The sheer size of the library was staggering; Olrox wisely decided that it was time to give up for the moment. He'd fed early in the evening, and if he waited too long to check on his charges, he might be hungry again.
Turning a corner near where he supposed the entrance had been, Olrox found himself with a clear line of sight to the large desk that lay not far from the door. A wizened old man with a stupendously long beard perched in the high chair behind the mammoth desk. 'Now, how long has he been here; that spot was dusty and covered in cobwebs when I walked in.'
Assuming that, since there was an attendant, it would be rude to simply walk out, Olrox approached the desk and handed the two books over into the librarian's outstretched hand. The librarian peered at the titles, lifting his spectacles with his fingers and tilting his face to look through them.
"Found something, then, have we?" he wheezed. Even his voice sounded dusty and unused. He picked up a quill, shook the cobwebs and dust from it, and wrote down the names and a short description of the books themselves in a thin, spidery handwriting. Peering over his lenses, he regarded Olrox for the first time. "Not many that bother with this place anymore."
Under the old man's scrutinizing gaze, Olrox couldn't help feeling a twinge of embarrassment. "They're for a friend who's...who's bedridden," he muttered lamely, knowing as he said it that he'd have been better off keeping quiet.
"For one of your kind, you're a terrible liar, Young Master," the librarian said softly; but instead of taking offense, the man's eyes twinkled with mirth. He chortled to himself, with an odd mixture of benevolence and insanity notable in the voice, and gently shoved the books across the desk.
Olrox had saved the books until last, first taking care of the other women's food and firewood. Taking Maria her meal, he set the books down on the table without ceremony. Maria looked at the books as a smile grew on her small face. She turned to Olrox and asked if they were for her. He nodded.
Delighted with the present, the girl leapt forward to hug the vampire before Olrox could step aside. "Oh, thank you, Domn Trandafir! I've been so bored in here."
"Don't!" Shoving her away more roughly than he'd meant to, Olrox stepped back, and, flustered, looked down at Maria, who looked confused and hurt. He sighed. "You mustn't do that ever again, Maria. Don't even come near to me."
Maria started toward him, but at a gesture from Olrox she held back. "But you wouldn't hurt me..." She halfheartedly tried to look at the floor, but Olrox held her gaze.
"You don't know that, Maria; you've only known me for a day."
"But you're so kind to me," Maria began again.
"Kind?" Olrox snapped, glaring at her. The girl shrank back and Olrox regretted being so harsh. He continued, gently but sternly. "Think of what I am, copil. Think of what I could do to you." 'I hate to think of that, myself.'
Maria sniffled, then seemed to pull herself together and stand straighter. "If you were going to hurt me, you'd have done it by now. So, I suppose...you're not going to." She looked fairly confident in this, and sat down to watch the fire.
'I hope for your sake that you're right, Maria.' Olrox felt a soft pull at his heart, and took that as a cue to leave. As he reached the door, a quiet voice stopped him.
"Domn Olrox?"
Olrox turned. Maria sat staring at the fire; then, she turned to look up at him. She paused for a long while. She fidgeted with her skirts and said, "I want to go home."
Olrox's face fell. What could he say? He didn't know why she was here; he didn't know when she could go home, if ever. He fervently hoped that Vlad didn't have any ill intentions for her. What to say? Finally, sighing, he said, "I know exactly how you feel." Opening the door, he stepped through, locked it, and left.
The next week, Olrox overheard many hallway gossips. Every creature had the same words on his, her, or its lips: Richter Belmont had broken in, and no one knew where exactly he was.
The castle was abuzz with activity. Vlad had told Olrox to be very careful and avoid sections of the castle that had spotted the slayer, so instead the young vampire was kept busy organizing the castle's occupants, vainly trying to fence the human in. It was impossible; news of Belmont's whereabouts just couldn't reach Olrox fast enough to be of any use. He was getting the sneaking suspicion that Vlad had set him this task to keep him out of the way.
He also suspected that Vlad was letting the human live. He had no idea why. Sitting at his desk, quill poised in one hand over another futile set of instructions to a group of creatures near the Marble Gallery, Olrox puzzled over the whole affair. Obviously, the women had been used as bait; Annette and Maria's testimonies confirmed that much. But what was the man's connection to Vlad, and why was he important enough that Vlad would let him terrorize the castle so?
Standing with a snort of frustration, Olrox began walking in the general direction of Vlad's small study, hoping to meet the older vampire, unlikely as that was. He'd decided that he was growing very tired of being kept ignorant.
Olrox was walking quickly through one of the many cramped, neglected back hallways, becoming even more peevish while trying to find his way, when he very nearly walked right into someone. Checking himself a hairsbreadth from a nerve-racked Jan, Olrox stepped back and they stared at one another for an awkward moment. 'Was I really so oblivious that I didn't notice him coming? I could have hurt him.'
Something about the way the boy just stood there, wringing his hands and wide-eyed, suddenly struck Olrox as being funny, and he smiled for the first time that night. "Hello again. I'm terribly sorry; I nearly sent you sprawling, didn't I?"
Olrox's voice seemed to jolt Jan out of his startled trance. "I'm so sorry, domnule, I wasn't looking where I was going and-"
Olrox silenced him with an impatient wave of his hand. "Never mind. There was no harm done." Taking an opportunity to speak casually, he went on. "We both seem in a hurry. What has you not looking where you're going, if I may ask?"
Jan seemed to shrink imperceptibly into himself. "Just thinking." Out of nowhere, he added, "I've seen the Belmont man."
That was interesting. Olrox raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
Jan nodded, blushing with embarrassment at the attention. "Just yesterday."
"And did he merit what's said of him?"
The boy shrugged and shifted his weight. "He looked tired. I thought I'd speak with him, but," he looked down at the ground, "I was too afraid. I suppose I've been here too long. I wouldn't know what to say."
Jan shied back when Olrox moved to lay a hand on his shoulder, so the vampire settled for a sympathetic frown. "I'm sorry." They stood quietly for a few seconds, and an idea started in the back of Olrox's mind. "Where did you say you saw the human?"
Jan looked up. "He was under that big staircase that opens into the south gallery. If you don't mind, sir, I think I'll be on my way."
Olrox smiled. "Of course. I should be going as well. Nice to see you, Jan."
Jan blushed again and hurried off. Leaning against the wall, Olrox's lips twitched upward at the corners at the thought... He didn't need to say one word to Vlad if he could find out about the Belmont by going straight to the source. Vlad needn't be bothered at all, in fact. Changing direction at the next junction, Olrox found himself running, and a little tickle of excitement almost made him laugh aloud.
Even as he was running, he was telling himself what a bad idea it was to seek out a slayer when he was still so green. At the same time, however, it was an irresistible thrill, to see the person who had the entire castle checking their rooms and locking their doors before they slept.
Hours later, Olrox descended the staircase from the Marble Gallery. He'd expected the human to be long gone, but checked underneath just in case. Surprisingly enough, there was a human asleep there. 'He must be using this spot as a camp for now.'
The human looked to be not quite as tall as Olrox. He carried the grime of days spent trekking through the castle, his brown hair tangled and his face and clothes smudged with dust, dried blood, and other substances probably best left unknown. He'd wrapped his long blue coat around himself for warmth, and one gloved hand was tightly clutching the handle of a heavy whip. It, too, was stained with use.
Knowing that he was courting disaster, Olrox slowly crept closer, hardly daring to breathe, walking as softly as he could until he was near enough to crouch down before the slayer. Feeling decidedly restless, as though the slayer was triggering some hidden instinct to flee, Olrox nevertheless leaned in even closer, until he could feel the warmth of the human's breath on his face. Studying the new face, Olrox took note of the dark rings around Belmont's eyes, and the tenseness of the man's muscles, as though he was exhausted, and yet didn't trust his surroundings enough to really sleep. 'He probably hasn't slept in several days...'
Then, on an insane impulse, Olrox reached out one shaky hand and touched the human's face, grinning at how soft and warm the skin was, and at the roughness of the stubble. Sleeping, the Belmont looked harmless, pathetic, and Olrox knew that, for the moment, he had the advantage. If he bit now, he perhaps could kill the human before Richter even knew what was happening. However, Vlad obviously wanted him left alive. 'And he did warn me about slayers. I don't know what this man could do. It's best if I let him alone..." Succumbing to his growing unease, Olrox stood and left the human, making his way back to his quarters, his curiosity slaked for a time.
When he retired to bed that morning, another, far more rebellious idea was beginning to take shape.
The tengu looked on in interest as Olrox bustled around his study, grinning, tidying, and making several minute adjustments that seemed needlessly neurotic to Torio's eyes. He chuckled. "And is the caged bird preparing for another night of work, or has your confinement driven you mad so soon?"
"Not tonight, my friend, not tonight," Olrox answered as he locked a stack of papers inside a desk drawer, looking up at his sole confidant with a conspiratorial wink.
"Going to the dungeons?" Torio guessed.
The vampire laughed and shook his head. "Already fed; can't you tell?" He indicated the faint flush in his cheeks. "Don't bother guessing because you never will."
A sound of ruffling feathers could be faintly heard, and Torio glared. "Now, that's a fine thing to see. You don't even trust me enough to tell me what you're up to. And it's no good, I know, from the way you're smiling..."
"Oh, stop pouting, Torio-kun," Olrox soothed, leading his friend to the door by the arm. "Of course I trust you. It's just that you have an ear for gossip and two mouths...er, beaks."
The bird-spirit scowled. "You doubt my honor?"
Olrox put up his hands. "No! Never. But I'm afraid this is something I'll have to tell you after the fact." He went on before the tengu could protest. "And I haven't told anyone else, so you needn't feel offended."
With that, Olrox bid Torio good evening and left for the hallway that housed his human charges, jangling the keys softly in his pocket and humming.
On his way down one of the larger main corridors, Olrox's good mood was abruptly shattered when he caught sight of one of his least favorite persons walking toward him. Or rather, his good mood was shattered when said person caught sight of him and stopped Olrox with a raised hand and an important look.
Olrox sighed and fought back the impulse to snarl. "Good evening, Father." Shaft, a priest turned warlock, was in Olrox's opinion, a lunatic. However, he was also very powerful, and as distasteful as Olrox found it, it was best to be polite.
Shaft peered disdainfully up at Olrox. Aside from Vlad himself, the dark priest wasn't fazed by much, and seemed to be thoroughly unimpressed with Dracula's chosen second-in-command. "The Master has just sent for you. He is down this hall, five doors on the right."
Olrox nodded. "I'll see to it as soon as I've done with-"
"You'll see to it now, Domn Tradafir," Shaft interrupted briskly, "and you'll show more respect for your creator and master, if you're wise, which I doubt." Continuing on his way, he left Olrox standing alone in the middle of the hallway, fuming.
'I'll see to it, and that's all you need be concerned with, bulangiu.' Grumbling, Olrox resumed his journey, and when he reached the fifth door on the right, which turned out to be the large double doors leading into the audience chamber, Olrox kept right on walking.
After seeing to the needs of his charges, Olrox lingered in Maria's chamber. A half-formed plan hovered in his mind, but he continued it with no small measure of trepidation. Whatever Vlad had planned for Maria, the child didn't deserve it. He had grown fond of her in the weeks that she'd been in the castle, and he'd seen, in a scant few days, her boldness degenerate into a quiet, consuming, and very desperate fear. Each day, Olrox saw that she was a little less well-rested, that she ate a little more hesitantly, that she spoke a little less readily. 'She's only a child, after all...'
He was surprised when Maria looked up from her meal almost at once and asked, "What is your family like?"
Glancing up at her from the key ring he'd been fidgeting with, he found himself answering, hardly missing a beat, although he hadn't expected any more light conversation. "They live far to the west of here, almost as far into the country as it's possible to be. My father is a paltry nobleman, my mother is an Englishwoman."
"What is she like?"
Olrox faintly smiled. "She's fair, like you, and good-humored, and very British. Overly fond of tea... Father worships the ground she walks on."
Maria genuinely smiled at that, as Olrox suspected she would, and that in turn improved his mood, strengthened his resolve. "Do you have brothers and sisters?" Maria asked, "I always thought it would be lovely to have a little sister."
Olrox felt the teeth of the keys in his hand. "I had two older brothers, and an older sister. She came back from her studies in France a few months before..." Olrox fumbled, apologetically, "And my eldest brother is married, and his daughter will be three shortly."
Sympathetically, Maria said, "They probably miss you. Couldn't you visit them?"
Seeing how earnest she was, Olrox softened the sharp words he'd been about to speak. "If it was that simple, copil, I would be there now. They are better off not knowing."
Continuing on with her supper, Maria said, half in reassurance, "I miss my family, too."
That was the final nudge Olrox needed. Poorly thought out or not, he'd have to try at something while the opportunity lasted. "Maria," he said, standing, "Richter is here. He has been for days; I've seen him myself." Her face brightened. Olrox smiled. 'If I am successful, it will be worth the worst of Vlad's anger.' "He won't let anything happen to you. You'll be home soon, I promise."
He left without another word. He had to leave; he had so much still to do tonight. Returning to the gallery staircase, Olrox blessed whatever providence was smiling on him. The Belmont man was still there, hastily eating a meager piece of chicken, whip close to hand.
'Now, it must be now, or I'll lose my nerve.' Looking down on the human from the stairs, Olrox jangled the key ring, jumping back as Richter looked up. Olrox heard a scrabbling noise, then footsteps. Giving the keys another quick shake, Olrox dashed up to the landing, down the hallway, and around a corner. There he waited, risking only quick glances toward the landing.
After what seemed a small eternity, Olrox spied the human standing at the top of the stairs, looking around, confused. Olrox shook the keys again, loudly, and saw the human's head snap in his direction. He ducked away, listening to the footsteps long enough to be sure he was being followed, then dashed away again.
In this way, Olrox slowly led Richter Belmont closer to the women's cells, careful never to let the slayer see him, leading him by sound. He wondered, as his heart raced, and he shivered with fright and exhilaration, if the human thought he was being led into a trap. 'As long as he follows...'
Eventually, Olrox reached the hallway that led to the cells. Remembering just in time that that hallway was a dead end, he threw the key ring to the floor, ducking into an adjoining corridor and running, not waiting to see if the keys were picked up.
Olrox didn't stop running until he was outside the door that Shaft had told him Vlad was waiting in. Taking a moment to compose himself, Olrox knocked. He would rather have gone straight back to his own chambers, he felt nauseous, but he'd already made the older vampire wait too long. Hearing Vlad's voice from within the room, Olrox took a deep breath and opened the door.
Vlad was clearly irritated. "You're late." That simple, emotionless statement sent a shudder through Olrox's frame. "Why?"
Folding his hands behind his back to keep from wringing them, Olrox looked at the floor for a minute, gathering his wits. "I'm sorry, Master. I ran into the slayer." It wasn't a lie. 'Merely bending the truth a bit.'
Immediately, Vlad's expression changed from one of anger into one of concern. He walked over to Olrox, checking for injury. "Are you all right?"
Olrox looked up at his elder. Vlad was clearly worried, and Olrox felt an inexplicable pang of guilt. "Yes," he answered, as he was pulled into a tight hug. "I ran before he had a chance to do anything. I suppose I wasn't paying attention as I should have been, and he surprised me. I managed to lose him after a minute or so."
"Never, never again," Vlad all but whispered, "You must be more careful, copil." Vlad combed his fingers through Olrox's hair (which was loose, Olrox noted; he must have lost the ribbon somewhere during the evening), and Olrox realized that he would be punished for his 'carelessness.' Only, not just yet, Vlad was too shaken now himself for that. Later, however, was an entirely different matter.
And he was right. Olrox awoke the next evening to find that his door was locked from the outside. A blood filled chalice set on the floor before the door; it was already cooling, so Olrox gulped it down quickly. He collapsed into a chair, his mind still tired from the previous night. Mechanically, he chipped away at a stack of paperwork, wondering what he'd do with himself before Vlad's inevitable appearance. He was itching to know what had become of his key ring, but, as much as he hated it, he'd have to be patient for the time being, or risk endangering himself more than he already had. 'I suppose, in a way, I can thank Vlad for locking me in, then.'
In a matter of hours, Olrox had changed his mind. The two pints or so of blood he'd had at the start of the evening hadn't been filling to begin with, and now he was hungry again. Resting his head in his left hand while he drummed his right fingers on the desk, he glanced up at the clock, sighed, swore, and shifted position. Later, he paced, picking up a book or another small object, looking at it, losing interest, and setting it down again, looking at the clock. He muttered and grumbled. It was nearly dawn now, according to the time, and he'd had two pints of cool blood from a cup. He was weary, more so than usual, but the pain made him restless.
With a sick headache, Olrox found himself studying his wrist. 'I wonder...' Raising it to his lips, and for some reason thankful that no one was watching, he bit into it, wincing when the artery was pierced. But it was blood, and, God, he was so hungry.
When he made himself pull back Olrox found that he had slid down onto the floor. The pain in his chest had lessened slightly, but he was more tired than before. He looked at the clock. 'Nearly eight. The sun's been up for an hour or so.' Miserable and frustrated, Olrox dragged himself to bed. At least he wouldn't ache while he was sleeping.
Richter didn't know who had left the keys to the ladies' cells lying there for him to find, but whoever it was, the slayer was grateful. Annette and her two friends were safe, and Maria walked beside him, as she had insisted. To Richter's surprise, she had actually proved to be very useful, and her cheerful company was a welcome relief in this place. With his free hand, he fingered the black ribbon he'd found. They were walking through a stretch of hallway that was so destitute of life, or unlife, that it was really rather boring.
Maria's eyes caught the odd movement. "What is that?" Richter glanced down and absently handed the ribbon to her. "Oh," she said, after a moment, "it's Domn Trandafir's hair ribbon. I hope he has another one. He's such a goose; I kept telling him and telling him to tie it tighter."
"What?" Richter queried, utterly lost.
Brightening even more at the chance to talk, Maria explained. "Oh, Richter, he was terribly kind. He was our warden, but he brought me books to read, and he asked what I'd like for supper, and we talked and talked, and his ribbon was always falling out, or about to fall out, or loose, and I'd retie it, and sometimes he let me braid his hair to give me something else to do, but once I got it tangled in knots and I must have pulled his poor hair awfully hard getting them untangled again, and-"
Richter tried valiantly to keep pace with the quick flow of words. "Your warden was human?" That was odd; he certainly hadn't seen any normal people here.
Maria shook her head. "No, no, he was a vampire, like the one who kidnapped us; but he was really very nice."
Ah, that was it. Richter sighed. "Maria, please don't tell me you've forgotten what I've told you about those monsters already."
The girl huffed. "I haven't forgotten. But he wasn't like that at all; he never hurt any of us, and he didn't want to. If you met him-"
"If I met him, I'm sure I would have conceded that he was a very good actor. Vampires are natural liars, Maria. Please, let's not argue about this anymore."
They continued walking in silence, Maria pouting, and Richter musing, a little disturbed at what his fiancée and her sister had been in such close contact with.
##
Olrox's pissy mood brought to you by Limp Bizkit's "Break Stuff." That's what happens when you write while listening to the radio. Don't let it happen to you.
Bulangiu-English equivalent of bastard
I know, I know, I said I'd do better this time. I didn't. I'm sorry. Busy. Tired. Miscellaneous excuses.