Transylvania, November 5, 1888
He had been dead. The accursed mortal had killed him. Gabriel, God's lap-pet. How he loathed the man. The very suggestion of his name made him twitch...
Yet, now he lived.
The very essence of the situation did not make sense. He had felt his soul ripped from his body. The feeling had been familiar, for it had, of course, happened once before. Time had past, although he knew not how long or how short of a span it had been. And now, he lived once again.
One cold hand massaged the tired brow. Three days had now past in which no answer had come. It was exhausting and utterly vexatious. Indeed the castle was very much the same as it had always been, though with the obvious exclusion of the Dwergi and the machinery they had tended.
Except for the smell.
It had been obvious to all that entered the fortress. A human had been in Castle Dracula. Not Gabriel and the Valerious woman. Not even the ridiculous monk. Another human.
With a soft hiss of frustration, Dracula rose from his hearth chair and left the room. The main corridor was empty, as was usual, and as nothing particularly caught his interest, he continued on.
The walk did his mind good. But he knew he would have to feed tonight. Indeed it had been two full nights since he had drank; besides the night of his resurrection, he had had nothing.
As he entered a new chamber, he knew at once this one was occupied. And those in it knew at once of his presence. Two of them, garbed in their trailing gowns and jewels, both leaping from
their perches in the rafters. Both at once at his side.
"My love," Aleera cooed, running her hand over his face and down the pale neck "You look parched! You must come with us now and feed!"
"She speaks truly, my dearest!" It was Verona who spoke now, examining his face with concern "We shall go now! Come."
He allowed the two of them to pull him, by the hands, to the nearby balcony. The three leapt off, and flew into the crisp, night air.
They were another factor that brought him confusion. Why were they, too, still living? All three of his brides had been murdered. Yet, now, Aleera and Verona, like himself, were very much alive. Not Marishka. She had somehow been excluded from the loophole the trio had found after death.
A young man stood on the outskirts of the village. In his hand was a small, wooden crossbow. Did he intend to vanquish him? A young, fat mortal against the Count Dracula?
The first grin in three moons spread wickedly across the face the of vampire. The boy was indeed very stupid, to think to test him. And tonight he would be taught his lesson. His last lesson.