Disclaimer: not mine, not mine, not mine, except April and the story, of course.
April pulled on the heavy wooden door to Velarious Manor. It didn't budge. She pulled once more, in vain, and then kicked it out of frustration. She banged on it a few more times, just for good measure, and then finally gave up, sinking to the cold ground with her back to it. She had come all this way, and to be defeated by what? A door. A heavy door. How depressing.
It had been a month. A Long, hard month in which she had traveled from Romania all the way to France. She had spoken with Beatrice, and had found out that her "friend" was named Carl, and that he was not actually a monk, but a friar. So she had found out both his name, and that he was not actually a monk at all. That was unfortunately all Beatrice had known; she hadn't even a clue where he had gone. April had felt as if she had hit a dead end, so she just decided to search blindly for either Van Hesling or his friend.
April was awoken from her thoughts by a sound to her left. She looked, and saw the empty road, sloping downhill to the town. Yet she heard the noise again, and stood up, glancing all around her. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and shrieking, flung around, pulling out her dagger. Much to her dismay, it was Anthony the gravedigger, with his hands up in a "I surrender," sort of way. She sighed in relief and lowered her weapon.
"What do you want? Are you stalking me?" She snapped, sheathing her dagger once more, but her heart still beating wildly. A sudden memory came into her mind.
She was briefly reminded of France. Paris, to be exact. She had been walking down a street in the moonlight, much a night like this night, trying to clear her head, plan her next move to find Van Helsing, when she was grabbed from behind. The man had never revealed his face, but she had known who he was. Van Helsing.
He had asked her why she was tracking him, and for what purpose. She had answered vaguely, and half-lying. She had told him that Dracula had killed one of her relatives, and she wanted to know if "The Great Van Hesling" had really defeated him.
He had answered "yes," and she had asked him where. He said "behind the portal in his cursed realm, the portal behind the mirror." This puzzled her greatly, so she had asked, "Mirror? What mirror?" all innocent-like. She was a devilishly good actress when the need be.
"The mirror in Velarious Manor." He had said, starting to become just a bit suspicious. "Oh yes!" she had exclaimed, pretending she had known of such a thing, though she had not. "I had heard Princess Anna speak of such a door."
She had noticed him stiffen at mention of the princess. He had asked, "You came all the way to France just to know that?"
April had answered, "Yes. You do not know what the pain is to loose a loved one. I needed to know for sure; you cannot believe Tansylvanian gossip."
He had answered, "I do know the pain. I understand." Only at that moment had she felt a twinge of guilt for her lies. Then he had gone back into the night.
"Hello? Hello?" Anthony the gravedigger was waving his hands in front of April's face.
"Stop that!" She said, shaking her head, snapping back into reality.
"You were just staring ahead, blankly, as if thinking of something. What was it?" he nosily inquired.
"Nothing, please leave me. I'm busy; I don't have time to talk now. Why did you say you were here again?"
"I followed you."
"Why?"
"I was curious as to what you were doing, walking alone up to the abandoned Velarious Manor."
"That is none of your concern, sir."
"Fine." He said, starting to walk behind her. "But do you need any help with that door?" She turned, and his hand was extended with a single, very old looking, bronze key in his palm. Hesitantly, she took it; aware of his eyes on her at all times.
Without speaking, she walked back up to the door, and found the keyhole beneath the large, iron ring-handles. She inserted the large, not to mention heavy, key. It fit perfectly, so she turned it with both hands. Surprisingly, the heavy door easily swung open to reveal the main hall of the manor. She turned to face the gravedigger.
"Uh, well, thank you… Anthony."
"Your quite welcome, Madam." He said with a little bow. She nodded and turned to go inside. "Hold it right, there," he said from behind her.
"What now?" she asked.
"Aren't you going to ask how you could ever repay me?"
"No." he mocked a hurt look. She turned again.
"I do believe you owe me something for providing you with the key to this manor." He said, still sounding hurt.
"What do you want?" She asked, very annoyed. She was now standing in the doorway of the manor, holding the door, about to close it.
"A kiss." He said.
"No. But thanks again!" She closed the large door as fast as she could, and locked it from the inside. "Crazed stalker." She thought, making her way to a large staircase. "I guess I'll have to go exploring for this mirror." She said to herself as she started climbing.
To Be Continued……..
To my most gracious reviewers:
Thank you all so much for reading this story, but I'm having a rather nasty case of write's block, so if you have any suggestions, I'm all ears. (finely pointed, elven ones, at that)
Thanks again for reading.
Love dearly, not queerly,
Linwe Ringeril
