Chapter 17 – The Keeper of the Swords

"Dorian, I don't understand. Dracula should be pursuing me by now. He has let me out of his sight before, but never for this long. I think something terrible is happening." I stroked Jovan's neck and scanned the road in front of me. No sign of anyone, man or beast.

"You're concerned for him," Dorian said matter-of-factly, his face grim in realization.

"How can you say that? He has murdered my mother!" I cried, glaring at him.

"Aye, perhaps, but I can see it in your eyes. You worry for him."

I shot a venomous look at the cocky opera singer and clucked to Jovan.

"I should be worrying for my father. When he goes to Castle Dracula, Vladislaus is going to defeat him. I just know it. And then where will I be?" I bit my lip.

"I doubt that. If you meet your father here, on this road, maybe you can just go home. You're bound to pass him." Dorian ran a hand through his curly black hair.

"Never. Gabriel would want to go to the masquerade ball regardless. He wants to vanquish Dracula for good. The whole 'revenge' thing, I suppose. For once, I agree with him. But I do not want my father murdered by that heartless demon. He must have a plan."

"You seriously believe that demons don't have hearts, Isabelle? The story you told me proved otherwise." Dorian looked at me seriously.

"I thought he did. But his heart is only made of lead, not living flesh." I scowled at the thought.

"But the demon does have a heart," Dorian insisted, the corners of his mouth twitching in a semblance of a smile.

"Do you mock me?" I asked.

"No, it's just I've never really believed in vampires, if you know what I mean. It's hard to… comprehend." He shrugged his shoulders and tightened up his grip on the reins.

"So what you are saying is that you don't believe me," I said, hurt. "I should have known."

"That is NOT what I'm saying. It's just… it was only a dream. Who knows if it was true?" Dorian said, licking his lips. His eyes glittered in the fading light.

"It's hard to explain, but I can just… feel it. Like the dream was sent to me, as a messenger, perhaps, begging me to escape. And the fact that I was able to sneak out of Bucharest unhindered is a miracle itself. Someone is watching over me." I looked up at the sky. It was streaked with red and orange, signaling the impending descent of the sun. Soon it would be night.

Dorian seemed almost desperate to change the subject. "Where shall we stay the night?" He asked, following the direction of my eyes. "It is getting dark."

"I don't know, Dorian, I don't know," I said, irritated. I was growing thirsty again. "We have no provisions, nor do I think we will find a place to stop and rest. I think if we just keep going we might actually meet someone."

"I don't know about Jovan, but my horse is tired and deserves rest. There has to be some form of shelter along this road." He narrowed his eyes and glanced around. "We'll find something soon enough."

We rode at a walk, traveling the perpetual road. Soon the moon rose, shrouding us in darkness, but Jovan did not accept her challenge again. He seemed intent on finding a place for us to sleep.

It was Dorian who spotted an old abandoned church two hours later. The building was being held together by green vines, and it looked like it might collapse at any moment. Still, it would provide safety from thieves, if there were even any out on this night.

We tore through the underbrush, snapping twigs and dead leaves like they were nothing. All four of us were tired, even Jovan, and the sooner we reached the church, the better.

When we came to the front door, Jovan laid his ears back and stopped dead. The whites of his eyes were showing, and the irises had turned from brown to blood red. He began to back up, but I dismounted and gave him a warning look. He lowered his head, defeated, and nudged my shoulder. I patted his muzzle and we went inside, followed by Dorian and his mount.

The church was a mess. There was a carpeted aisle, which was shredded apart, and on either side were six rows of pews, shattered into bits. Wood and glass was strewn all over the floor. The altar was broken at the middle, and a garden of lilies had started to grow, overcoming the mound, nearly covering it. At each of the four corners of the rectangular altar were statues of angels holding swords that were pointed towards the heavens. The statues remained unsullied, like they had just been placed in the church yesterday. The statues were of the four greatest advocates of the Lord God: Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, and Uriel. Each statue was distinguished clearly from the others in terms of the angel's physical features and the type of a sword he was wielding.

I headed towards the altar, intent on taking Jovan with me, but he reared and broke from my grasp. I ignored his frenzied protests and let him go. Taking a deep breath, I stepped up to the altar, my stare trained on my favorite archangel: Raphael.

Although the statues were made out of marble, each of the Heavenly Hosts had a color for eyes. The eyes were fashioned out of something that resembled crystal, but this substance had a much more hypnotic effect. I found that I was struck dumb by the beauty of their eyes.

Raphael's eyes were green, like the forest. They had joy and laughter in them, but they also appeared to be asking me a question: What do you seek?

Michael, of course, had blue eyes. They were deep and accusing and strong, like the ocean. His eyes were asking me the same question.

Gabriel had white eyes, pure, chaste, and kind. The question was the same for him, but he looked down on me with a sense of understanding, pity, even. I could sense it.

Uriel was the most intriguing. His eyes were of the darkest shade of violet, sharp and wise. They almost looked alive…

"Isabelle, I know how much you like cold white statues but can we please go to sleep? My horse has already stolen the most comfortable spot in this wreckage." Dorian took my arm firmly. "You can stare at them tomorrow."

I reluctantly followed him down from the altar to a little corner of the church, where he had set up a tiny sleeping area. Jovan was dozing uneasily, with one eye open. I stole one more glance and the statues and then settled down, laying my head against Jovan's stomach. I had no intent of letting down my guard tonight.

I awoke to darkness. The first thing I realized was that Jovan was gone. It was cold in the church, and without the stallion's body heat, I began to shiver. I was too afraid to call out to the horse so I sat silently, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness.

After several minutes, I could make out the figure of Dorian sleeping just a few feet away. He was curled up in a ball, and his arms were lined with goose-bumps. His horse was gone too.

"Jovan?" I whispered. My voice echoed throughout the entire church, startling Dorian. He sat up and I put a finger to my mouth, warning him to be quiet. He crawled over to me and sat down.

"Why is it so cold?" he asked, scanning the church. I could not yet see the altar, but my eyes were adjusting quickly and soon some reassurance would be offered to me.

"I don't know. Jovan and Vito are missing. I don't know what time it is." I stood, using Dorian's shoulder as my base of support. My throat was aching and I felt lightheaded.

"JOVAN," I said, my voice a little louder this time. "Where are you?"

"Jovan is not of this world," a soft bell-like voice said. I spun around, trying to find its source, but there was no one. Dorian was looking at my strangely.

"He does not belong here," a second, stronger voice said. "He belongs to Diomed."

"Perhaps," said the first voice. "But he thinks he belongs to himself."

"He is the Keeper of the Swords," said a third voice. It was wise and commanding. "He belongs to what he keeps."

"Aye, ye speak the truth," said the second voice. The voices were growing louder, and it was growing lighter in the church. I could almost see the altar. "But the true question is this: shall he keep the swords much longer?"

"He is of the Thracian horses," said a fourth voice. The voice was gentle, and had a joyful tone in it. "What does The Majestic deserve?"

A short ray of light fell upon the altar. The voices suddenly disappeared. Crouching beside the altar was a dark and muscular figure. At first I thought it was dead, but then it began to move, inching out from behind the statue of Uriel, into my line of sight. And when it came into view, I felt like my entire world had shattered into oblivion.

Tall and darker than night, Jovan glided forward, wings of shadow outstretched. Red as blood were his eyes, and as he beat his wings, he created a haze of black wind around his body, which buffeted him, like a protective shield. His four canines had grown points, and protruded from his upper and lower lips, sharp as kitchen knives. Hooves of silver he had, that merged seamlessly with the floor, and shined like the moon. On his chin was the beard of the lion, and his tail was of the peacock. This was the Keeper of the Swords.

I fell to my knees, not knowing what else to do. Perhaps he would spare me. I felt Dorian sinking to the floor behind me, so I was sure he was kneeling also. We were at the mercy of a demon.

"What do you seek?" he inquired as he made his way down from the altar. His voice came not from his mouth, but from the center of his body. It was deep and melodious, something I did not expect.

"Jovan," I said meekly, trembling at the sight of what the stallion had been all this time. "How can you do this?"

The Keeper of the Swords snorted and pawed the ground with one slender leg. "Do what, half-blood? I am of the Glaukos, anthropophagous, the Thracian horses. Born and bred to devour human flesh. Trained to be unmerciful. Revered as the servant and mount of the son of the devil. I have slain many. Why should you be different?" He was approaching steadily, his blood red eyes boring into mine. I did not flinch.

"I love you, Jovan. I truly do. I think you different from what had been trademarked evil. Are you so eager to prove me wrong?" My heart was beating rapidly.

"I, along with my brothers, feasted on the flesh of our own master, Diomed, the tyrant of Thrace. He had no hold on us. Do you believe you have a hold on me?" The Keeper of the Swords was walking more slowly, but his stance was growing taller. My neck hurt from looking up at him.

"I…"

"I asked you a question before," he interrupted sharply. "What do you seek? Answer correctly and I may spare you." He stopped in front of me, his wings beating the cold air, fanning me in the face. I fought my body's reaction to shiver.

"I seek salvation," I said boldly, staring him straight in the eyes. I heard Dorian fidget behind me.

"For whom?" He asked nonchalantly. I could not fathom if my answer was the correct one. His expression was hidden behind bloodthirsty eyes.

I smiled in my mind. "For you."

He screamed in rage and reared, pawing the air. I ducked out from beneath his lashing hooves and threw myself behind a pew. He grabbed the back of my shirt with his teeth and lifted me off the ground with unbelievable strength. I fought his clasp but he shook me hard, shaking me senseless. I found myself lying on my back with him standing over me, his fangs just inches from my face.

"You believe I need salvation? From YOUR God?" He challenged, his eyes daring me to answer otherwise.

"I do," I replied.

"Where has God's salvation led you? What has he done to save you?"

"He sacrificed his son to grant me eternal life in heaven." I kept my stare focused on his cold red eyes.

"You cannot be saved. You're a half-blood. Half-evils are not allowed in heaven. They aren't even permitted in hell. You belong to nothing." He grinned and tossed his forelock, shading his eyes from view.

"Then I shall die. I shall refuse to drink of vampire blood, refuse to be either human or vampire," I said, remembering from reading so long ago that was the only way I would survive past my 17th birthday was to drink of vampire blood.

"And defy me?" He lowered his face so that his fangs grazed the sides of my cheeks. I couldn't help it; I flinched.

"And defy you." I said, praying for someone to stop this pain that was inside of me. I had loved a demon, thinking that Jovan was just like Tynan. It seemed that I was destined to love those who could not be saved from the clutches of hell.

"You realize that if you do not drink of vampire blood you will wander throughout this land without a home and without a name? You will be a phantom, someone humans can see but never touch. Belonging neither to the world of the dead or the world of the living."

"I have suffered worse," I said, aware that my breathing was gradually slowing down. I was no longer afraid.

"Such as?" He narrowed his eyes.

"Betrayal, jealousy, lies, hatred. Love."

"What is this 'love' you speak of? I do not know it." He moved so that I could sit up. I then realized he was going to spare my life. Relief washed over me.

"It is something stronger than the fires of hell. Something that you cannot even begin to understand," I said. "Describing it in mere words cannot do it justice." I stole a quick glance around me. Dorian wasn't in the church. I figured he had fled or gone to get help.

"So you loved my master?" he asked bluntly. It was more of a statement than a question.

"I respected him. For a time." I couldn't say I loved the murderer of my mother. The vampire who was responsible for what Jovan really was. The vampire who ruined my father's life. The vampire who broke my heart. He had wounded me thousands of times over. But for some reason, I still cared for him. It was against my better judgment.

This seemed to silence the Keeper of the Swords. He was watching me attentively with a bemused expression. I stood up and brushed some dirt of my dress. It was ripped and shredded, and I felt bad for ruining such a pretty gown. But I wasn't entirely at fault.

"My master gave me the responsibility of returning you safely to his castle. That is why I am sparing you, half-blood. Not because I am merciful. Because I have orders." He glowered fiercely at me. "Let's depart."

I stared at him. "Will you not resume your other form? You may frighten several people. Not to mention get shot at."

"I am quicker on air than earth. That was how Vladislaus and I preferred attacking our various opponents those long years ago. From the sky." He bent down on his knees so I could mount him more easily, just like how he had before the opera. I realized that lying beneath his menacing appearance and curt temper was the Jovan I knew. And I was filled with a sudden rush of hope that maybe the salvation I had asked for was being granted.

Author's Note: Well, well, back to Castle Dracula. Mind you, it's Sunday now. Only four more days till the masquerade ball, the ultimate climax. We shall see what happens.