Author's Note: The poem in Chapter 21 (Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal) is the rightful work of Lord Alfred Tennyson.
Chapter 22 – Tell Me What You Seek
It rained. Outside of St. Peter in Chains Cathedral stood a tall man clad in a grey overcoat. His eyes remained hidden by the low brim of his hat. He had long, silvery black hair that seemed to gleam, even though it remained untouched by the sun's hidden rays. People walked by him slowly; their faces full of curiosity and awe as they passed. The man ignored their pensive stares and instead sauntered straight out into the street, not even bothering to check for signs of oncoming traffic. Some witnesses' say that he appeared to glide across the ground, others even went so far as to proclaim that he floated. Whatever the case, the man with black hair definitely did not act like a normal human being. If only they had been able to see his eyes…
Isabelle woke to the sound of rain outside. She shook her head and kicked off the covers, shivering in response to the cold that enveloped her bare legs. He must have forgotten to light a fire, she thought as she grudgingly moved herself out of bed. And for some reason, it doesn't surprise me.
When Isabelle entered the kitchen she put on a robe and lit the fireplace, mumbling under her breath random complaints about Dorian. She figured he was still out at the local pub and would probably come home drunk. He never slept and had just recently begun to have seizures. Each time he experienced one, his recuperation time lengthened. The doctor had told Isabelle there was nothing she could do but pray and wait.
"What bothers me," she murmured softly to herself, "is that he is only thirty-two. How much longer does he really have?"
Isabelle had realized long ago the uselessness of questions. She left the fire and went outside to stand on the porch. Streaks of black, red and orange dotted the sky, signaling the arrival of dawn. Isabelle spotted her horse Nelson grazing underneath an oak tree. He appeared content despite the chilly weather.
"Horses have a knack for survival," she said quietly. "It never fails to amaze me."
Isabelle prayed silently for Carl. He was in Italy learning to become a priest and she hoped that everything was going well. With a sigh, she let herself back inside.
The fire's warmth encompassed the kitchen so Isabelle felt comfortable enough to take off the robe and change into her day clothes. She brushed her hair out of her face and pondered over what to make for breakfast. It was then she heard a knock at the door. Dorian was home.
Sighing, she got up gingerly and went to open the door, shaking her head the entire way.
"Where have you…" she stopped in mid sentence. Isabelle took two steps back and reached for the gun that was hanging over the doorframe. The gun her father had given her. The gun with silver bullets.
"Miserere mei, quoniam infirmus sum," the man said. She could not see him clearly because he was shrouded in darkness. "Et anima mea turbata est valde."
"Who are you?" she asked, raising the gun. "If you don't answer, I'll fire." She cocked her head. "Come into the light."
There was an awkward silence and then he stepped forward, letting the light from the kitchen illuminate the outline of his body. Isabelle gasped and nearly dropped the gun.
"You… you can't be," she whispered, her heart beating rapidly. "You were killed…"
The man kept his head bowed, shielding his face from her. She knew it was him, though. She just knew it.
"Let me see your eyes," she said, taking another step backwards. "Let me see if you are who I think you are."
The man removed his hat and looked at her. His face reminded her of a marble statue, chiseled and sculpted to perfection. His hair shimmered in the light from the fire. But she still could not see his eyes. They were hidden behind his long locks of hair.
"Let me see your eyes," she repeated, raising the gun again. "Now."
He sighed and shook his hair; much like a horse would shake his mane. Eyes of red bored into hers.
"J-Jovan…" Isabelle said weakly. She dropped the gun. "You're not who I thought you were." Her legs began to tremble. "He slaughtered you…"
"You can say that on the third year after my death I was resurrected." He smiled. "You said so yourself, horses have a knack for survival."
"I… I don't understand. You died. After we wakened from Uriel's spell you were lying on the floor, dead." Isabelle shut her eyes. The sight of Jovan bathing in his own blood on the ballroom floor had plagued her dreams for many months. Only just recently she had stopped having nightmares.
"And I was brought back, by the mercy of a higher power," he stated. "Vlad, fortunately, did not receive that privilege."
"What happened?" Isabelle said, still careful to keep her distance. "Who saved me from becoming a vampire?"
Jovan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Vlad did."
"But…" she began. Dracula, of all people, saved her from the fate he condemned her to in the first place?
"I suppose he changed his mind at the last minute," he interrupted. "It seems that he loved you after all."
"Where is he now?"
"Serving his punishment that was dutifully given to him. One good deed does not outlast all the heinous ones, even though that good deed was spurred by love. He will never return here."
"I could almost say the same of you," Isabelle said. "Why were you sent back?"
"I turned from the path of darkness earlier then Vlad. The consequences of my actions weren't so severe. I am now here to protect the innocent from the evil and make amends with those I have wronged. I decided to start with you."
"You never wronged me," she stated. "You helped me. You gave me the lily. I believe it is what saved me in the end."
"Perhaps…" he began. "But I still held evil intentions at heart. Only up until Vlad marked me with an X did I fully reconsider my alliance. I chose the other side. Your side."
Jovan nodded to Isabelle and then proceeded to leave. At the last second Isabelle grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"To Castle Dracula. Valdemar rules the place now. I've despised that vampire my entire life and now I plan to dispose of him. Fenrir and Havard deserve to be set free from his suffocating clutches."
"You aren't afraid of what he might be able to do to you?" Isabelle said.
Jovan sighed and stepped out on to the porch. "I have my methods," he replied, removing the grey overcoat. Attached to his waist were two sabers, their scabbards wrought in pure gold. He smiled and put the coat back on.
"One swipe from these and he is gone forever," Jovan said, half-smiling. "Then I can serve his head on a platter to Lucifer."
"Let me come with you," Isabelle pleaded, folding her hands.
Jovan's brow furrowed. "Why? Your father would certainly disapprove."
"My father died, about a year ago," she said sadly. "Gabriel was a valiant protector; his curse was to save strangers and rid the world of evil. I don't think he could object to this with a clean conscience."
"I see. But you still haven't answered my question. Why do you want to come?" He put his hat back on his head. "There must be a reason."
"Dorian shall not miss me. And frankly, you, Havard, and Fenrir are all the family I have left."
"Family?" Jovan snorted. "You seek a family in the company of demons? A heartless class of beings?"
"Demons do have hearts," she said. "I've at least learned that much."
Jovan batted his eyes and sighed. "I can remember when you thought differently. But I suppose attitudes change over time. Very well. I will permit your company." He walked down the steps and out onto the path that took him off the property. He gave a shrill cry and then there was a flash of light. Gone was Jovan the human. Now he was in his horse form, a beautiful stallion with a flowing mane and tail. Isabelle was shocked.
"Have you always been able to transform from horse to demon to human and back?" she inquired.
Jovan shook his head and bent down on his knees. He wanted her to ride him. She glanced back at Nelson and figured that he'd be all right. She inhaled sharply and got onto the horse's back, her legs quivering from excitement. He rose slowly and neighed, his voice reverberating throughout all of Budapest. Isabelle smiled and leaned down to whisper in his ear.
"Run, my beloved stallion," she said. "Run, and tell me what you seek."
THE END
Dedicated to three very important people: God, for without him, I would cease to exist; my friends, especially Rachael and Jayni, for always being there for me and encouraging me to pursue my dreams, no matter how unrealistic they are; and finally, last but not least, I dedicate this story to a person who shall remain unnamed. May he become the best of them all and be delivered from the snares of lies and deceit that chain him unmercifully to the semblance of a dictator.
Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed and gave me suggestions! You all mean everything to me and it's awesome to have such unwavering support! I hope you enjoyed Demons Do Have Hearts and I wish you the best in your writing career!
If you ever wish to contact me, feel free to send me an email. I'd love to hear from you!