Chapter 9 – Breaking Trust & Breaking Hearts
Blood. There was blood everywhere. I stood up slowly, my legs trembling violently as I used my horse's dying body to support myself. My head was pounding and I felt sick to my stomach.
"I'll be back, Tynan, hang on," I uttered gently to the horse. He was breathing hard and his coat was blanketed with sweat, despite the frigid temperature. I patted his neck and rested my hand on a wall. Scared to death of what I would find, I made the long, strenuous walk towards Vladislaus's lifeless body. I mouthed a silent prayer, begging God to grant him forgiveness and some sort of salvation. But I didn't think God listened when it came to demons. They were not of his concern.
I covered my mouth to stifle a gasp when I reached his body. It looked like he had taken a bath in blood. All of his apparel was stained, and both of the swords were coated. I knew it was his own blood, for the Grim Reaper could not bleed. My heart sunk to my stomach and I had to swallow hard in order not to throw up.
Quivering like a newborn colt, I bent down next to him and brushed a strand of hair away from his face. His eyes were glazed over, but his chest was rising and falling, a sure sign that he was alive. However, his breathing was growing shallower by the minute and I knew that he had very little time.
I gritted my teeth and undid his shirt. I needed to know how bad the wound was. My fingers were numb and my head ached, but I was able to slide the soiled garment off his chest to reveal the gash. My eyes filled with fresh tears at the sight. It ran from his right shoulder blade down to the left side of his ribcage, where a piece of the Reaper's sword had broken off and gotten trapped in the thin layer of skin. No human could have survived that injury.
Working fast, I ripped off a section of my dress and applied direct pressure to the wound. I debated on whether or not to remove the object, for I did not know if taking it away would have a positive or negative effect on his condition. However, when I noticed that the area around the piece of sword was turning blue, I slid my nail under it and bit my tongue. I counted to three and ripped the object out. He did not make a sound.
"Now to get you out of here," I said as I finished wrapping the cut. There was no way I could carry a full grown man back to the library, and I didn't even know where the library was. I glanced down at Tynan; he was still breathing. My horse gave me an idea.
"Jovan," I crooned, taking his silver halter down from its peg. "I need you to cooperate." The stallion studied me carefully, and when he concluded that my intentions were true, he stepped forward.
"That's my beautiful boy. Now, your master needs help, Jovan. He has been gravely injured. You must follow me and do exactly as I ask." I didn't know if the horse understood me, but I felt better knowing I had told the stallion what was going on. He pricked up his ears and nodded.
Smiling, I unlatched the stall door. Figuring that he would follow me, I headed back to Vladislaus, supported by the sound of hooves behind me. When we arrived at the count's body, Jovan sniffed his master and tried to roll him over.
"No, Jovan, no, please. I need you to help me take him to the library. Do you know where that is?" I asked, desperate. This horse was my only means of comfort.
The horse seemed to shrug and bent down on his knees, obviously wanting me to put Vladislaus on his back.
"You're such a clever boy," I said, as I picked up the count's body, abandoning his tattered shirt. To my surprise, his skin was soft and smooth, unlike the hard, coarse leather that I had imagined. With a grunt, I managed to swing Vladislaus over Jovan's back in such a way that I knew he was secure for the time being. The horse whinnied and rose from the ground gingerly, eager for my next set of instructions.
"Well, um, to the library, I suppose," I told him, wondering how it would look to someone if he or she caught me holding a conversation with a horse. I would probably be accused of witchcraft and burned.
Jovan walked forward, his graceful strides keeping Vladislaus perfectly balanced. My eyes narrowed as I spotted a series of scars crisscrossing all over the count's back. Upon further inspection, I discovered that they were scourge marks. The skin had been torn so many times that the wounds had failed to heal properly, making the scars look fresh and recent. I grimaced and looked away. It seemed blasphemous to me that the devil could do such a thing to his own son. Then again, the devil himself was blasphemous. It did not surprise me that he felt no shame inflicting intolerable agony on Vladislaus.
I placed one hand on the stallion's neck, for reassurance only, as we were approaching my horse. Tynan had stopped breathing and when we passed by him, I knew my beloved friend was dead. I shut my eyes to avoid tears. My heart tore in two for I knew I had chosen to save Dracula over him. And that choice was going to haunt me for the rest of my life.
Jovan and I managed to get out of the hallway and past the broken window. When we rounded the turn, I found that we were at the entrance to the library. My mind was too concerned with Vladislaus's condition to question our quick arrival and each second that passed was drawing me unwillingly closer to the count's impending death.
We entered the library at a brisk pace and I motioned Jovan towards a long couch that was positioned close to the fire. I drug Vladislaus down from the horse and arranged his body on the couch so that his face was bathing in the light from the fire. It couldn't do him any harm.
"OK, now I need some sort of medicine. Jovan, do you know where the count keeps some sort of antiseptic cream? Something to prevent the wound from becoming infected?" The horse bobbed his head and left the library, his tail swishing languidly behind him. Jovan definitely wasn't an ordinary stallion. The name "majestic" suited him perfectly.
I bent down next to Vladislaus and placed my hand on his forehead. It was icy cold. I didn't know if that was a good or bad sign, given the fact that he was a vampire and vampires reacted differently to the effects of shock. My knowledge in the field of medicine was limited to only what I had read, and I was unsure about what to do next.
"Vladislaus?" I said, my voice shaking slightly. "Vladislaus, can you here me?"
No response. He just gazed lifelessly at the mantle. I closed his eyes quickly, not wanting to accept the fact that he was dying. The Lord of the Vampires would be depending on me to save his life, and that thought made me feel insufficient and inferior, the opposite of what I expected.
My morals told me to let him die, but as I studied him under the firelight, I knew I couldn't. He was a murderer, yes, and if I healed him, he would continue his reign of terror and slaughter upon thousands more of innocent souls. He cared not for others, and his feelings had long since left him. But he had felt one quick second of pain, when the Grim Reaper cut him, and that told me that maybe he wasn't a hopeless case. Maybe I could save him from more than just death.
Jovan had returned with a bottle of salve, clean bandages, and a blanket. How he knew where all of that stuff was located I had no idea. I was just grateful that I had all of the supplies that I needed in my possession.
"You are such an intelligent horse, Jovan. If you want, you can stay here, or go back to the stables. I am not going to tell you what to do," I told him, while taking the supplies from his mouth. The horse nickered and then took a place behind the couch so that he could keep an eye on his master. I smiled and got to work.
Blood had soaked through the temporary bandage and was now in danger of staining the couch. I removed the ripped piece of my dress and wiped away the oozing access. Breathing heavily, my forehead furrowed in concentration, I applied the salve. It filled the room with a wonderful aroma, taking away some of the stink that blood made. When I finished, the infected skin was beginning to turn from blue to white, a sure sign that the salve was working.
"Jovan, I believe he is going to make it," I said, in a desperate attempt to convince myself. The horse only shook his mane in reply.
I bandaged the wound slowly, cautious of the rough contact cloth made with torn and bloody skin. It couldn't be the most pleasant sensation in the world, even for a vampire who was unconscious.
Jovan and I stayed with him the rest of the afternoon, well into the evening. The stallion brought me food, but I was too worried to eat. The bleeding had stopped but he was not waking up. At times I found myself involuntarily staring at him; it was true that even though he was born and raised in hell, his beauty surpassed that of any man. It wasn't a genuine beauty; it was more like a fathomless beauty, a beauty that was renowned for being much more intriguing. And much more seductive.
Later that night, when Jovan had returned to the stables, I snuggled underneath a blanket and watched the count out of the corner of my eye, just in case he woke up. The fire was dying, but every so often sparks would fly, forcing me to get up and stamp them out. My eyes drooped with exhaustion but I was afraid to fall asleep. The count might blame me for his injury or even worse, he could still be angry with me because of the lack of respect I had shown for him in the stables. I wanted to be awake when it happened to prevent any unnecessary bloodshed.
The snowstorm howled outside of the castle walls, furious that it could not extinguish the already dying fire within. I saw Vladislaus stir uneasily and then I harshly reprimanded myself for taking the blanket. It belonged on him, not me.
I gathered the blanket up in my hands and covered him with it, hoping my body heat might do the healing process some good. I sat down on the couch, pulling the blanket up to his chin and smoothing the wrinkles out. As much as I wished to deny it, there was not one ounce of fat anywhere on his body. Instead, the needed insulation had been replaced by rock hard muscle. One benefit of being a vampire. Perhaps the only benefit.
My hands traveled up to his face, to his lips. They were cool to the touch, but not unpleasant. Maybe the blanket was helping after all. I wanted nothing more than to kiss him, but I restrained myself when I thought of Tynan. My horse was dead because I had chosen to save the count. I didn't think I could ever truly believe it. Alleged foe over best friend. There was one for the books. And what confused me even more was that I hated him. Or I thought I did.
Sighing, I brushed a few wisps of dark hair behind his ear, dissatisfied with his disheveled appearance. He was going to be furious when he woke. Well, better that he take his wrath out on me instead of an unsuspecting peasant. At least I had a small chance of survival.
I laid my head down on his chest, thoroughly beat and too lazy to return to my chair. He wasn't going to wake up anytime soon, so I presumed there was no harm in taking a short nap on his chest. He was rather comfortable…
"Well, I see that your attitude has changed towards me," a familiar voice drawled. I scrambled off the couch quicker than the speed of lightning. He merely chuckled and batted his eyes.
"How long have you been awake?" I said nonchalantly, but inside, I was shaking hysterically. He was not going to die.
"Mmmmm… only about five minutes, at the most. I would have "announced" my waking state earlier but I presumed you were enjoying playing nurse to me and I wasn't about to stop you…" He grinned wickedly, and I struggled to keep myself from slapping him.
"You almost died," I said, trying not to convey any emotion in my voice except for disapproval. "That is hardly a laughing matter."
"I'm supposed to die, Isabelle. The piece of sword that is trapped in my skin is as lethal as poison. And anyways, going back to hell does seem appealing… I might have preferred being beaten by the devil for the rest of eternity." He shrugged and ran a finger through his hair. Clearly, he was not accepting the seriousness of the conversation.
"Don't you EVER say that again," I snarled. "I saved your life over Tynan's. He is dead because you live. I can't believe you would have the heart to say such a thing."
"You're the one who told me I had no heart, Isabelle. Now you are contradicting yourself." He got up swiftly from the couch with no hint of stiffness in his body. The blanket fell to the floor, revealing the bandage wrapped around his chest. His eyes flashed and he glanced down, surprised to see that his wound was well taken care of. He took a step towards me but I growled at him like a cornered dog.
"Don't touch me," I commanded, my voice dripping with spite. "Unfortunately for the entire human population, you're going to live. I removed the piece of sword and applied some salve that Jovan gave me. You will need to change the bandage at least twice a day so that it does not become infected. Do not come to me with questions for I would rather die than answer them." I ran for the exit, not bothering to wait for a reply or to see his expression. I just wanted to be alone in my misery.
"Well, Isabelle, you're attitude has changed indeed. I thought we might have a chance at a successful relationship?" He said, feigning innocence, but I knew in the dark pit of the demon's soul he mocked me. I stopped in the doorway and grabbed hold of the frame to resist the temptation to turn around and throw something at him. My knuckles were gripping so hard they were white. I looked over my shoulder and gave him the iciest glare I could manage without crying.
"I trusted you, Vladislaus. I trusted you. And you have betrayed me in the most horrendous way possible. You've toyed with my emotions and have taken everything from me except my soul. It hurts. But you know nothing of that. How could a vampire care? I was right the first time: you have no heart. But I was foolish enough to believe you when you said you did. Well, it won't be happening again. Good-night."
I then left the room and did not see the count again for two days.
I came upon the hallway by mistake; somehow I had taken a wrong turn along the way to the dining hall. My stomach rumbled insistently but it was a mere pain in my stomach that could be dealt with later. My mind was focused on something much more significant: Tynan's body was missing. The swords were still lying on the floor, and the shattered pieces of glass were still scattered across the ground. But he was missing. I ventured down the hallway to the stables and found the entrance closed. The statue of the horse lay at the base of the doors, broken into so many pieces that repairing it was futile. Where was Jovan? I listened, but heard no sound except the frigid breeze coming from the window. Baffled and curious, I bent down to pick up the white sword and shrieked in pain as it burned into my palm. I dropped it with a clatter and clutched my hand, agony and shock sweeping through me as I massaged the burn. It seemed that I had been so preoccupied with Vladislaus and Tynan that I forgot to take care of my own injuries. And now I was paying for it.
The inscription on the sword caught my attention and I bent down to read it. The name Gabriel was written in fine, calligraphic letters that intertwined at all the correct places, making the script look elegant. Was it my father's sword? Or did it belong to the almighty archangel? To check my theory, I looked at the sword the Grim Reaper had been wielding. In the same fine print read the name, Sammael. The angel of death.
Starting at the beginning, I came to understand that each knight held in its sheath a sword that bore the inscription of twelve of God's more prominent angels, from Michael to Cassiel. Intrigued by these swords and the power they held, I decided to go to the dining hall and then proceed to the library after my meal.
However, when I passed by the broken window and glanced out, I saw a sight that almost made me question my sanity: there, lying in the freshly fallen snow of the morning was the body of my horse. Around his body were beautiful red flowers that bore a strong semblance to roses. However, the oddest part of it was that standing next to Tynan, amongst the circle of flowers, was a thickly cloaked figure that resembled the outward profile of Dracula. He was muttering something under his breath and from his hands spilled a warm, yellow glow. The count looked paler than usual and his skin was almost translucent, but he stood there in the snow like a dignified and indomitable prince. The wind played with his hair, almost flirting, in a way, before letting it free to frame his white face once again. The yellow glow intensified until it seemed to wrap a protective bubble around both vampire and beast. Not wishing to see more, and angry at the count for confiscating Tynan's body without my permission, I stalked off to the dining hall in a huff.
Author's Note: OK, maybe it wasn't that enlightening, but at least Dracula survived! Stay tuned! :)