CH 5.
The end of October neared, and Transylvania grew steadily colder. Even though vampires really felt no cold, frostbite was tricky to heal, immortal or not. There was no warm blood to defrost the frozen area, you see.
As the end of October neared, the three brides grew steadily more excited. All Hallows Eve meant a masquerade. But Dracula had yet to mention when they'd be journeying to the summer palace in Budapest for the ball.
"Papa?"
Dracula looked up from his book. Sera was standing before him, clad in a layered lavender robe of finest silk. Her dark eyes were wide.
"Will we have a masquerade this year?"
Dracula sighed. With Van Helsing back and the constant fear of Sera or his brides being injured, he had really hoped to skip the masked ball. But Sera looked so incredibly hopeful he could not help but smile.
"We will go tomorrow, my dear. I have not forgotten"
She smiled, that brilliant fang-bearing smile that lit up her white face and curtsied.
"Thank you, thank you, master!" she said enthusiastically. She ran from the room, bare feet making no sound on the cold stone. Aleera and Marishka caught the small vampire as she barreled into them. Aleera hefted the little one and Sera gave a secretive grin.
"He said yes"
Aleera and Marishka shared the smirk with their small charge. If anyone could have gotten him to say yes, it was Sera.
---
Three days later, Marishka, Verona, and Aleera were scattered about Verona's large bedroom at the summer palace in Budapest. The blue-green silk sheets and canopy beaded with crystals gave the room an ethereal feel. Aleera looked up. She was dressed in a long white slip and a corset, also pure white, and laced up so tight it looked as if she couldn't breathe. But she couldn't breathe either way...so that worked out rather nicely.
"What time is it?" she asked.
"The clock strikes six, my dear" Verona said patiently. Aleera jumped up.
"Six! We must dress, my sisters"
No matter how many centuries old they were, as women, they heard the call of fashion. Even quiet, intelligent Verona, the second-in-command to the Count himself needed a little time to try on outfits.
They dressed with haste, and then hurried into the drawing room. Verona disappeared, and headed to Sera's room. The small vampiress sat on her bed, reading a large tome of poetry. She looked up.
"Mama! You look beautiful!" she said, standing up to meet her mother eye to eye. Verona smiled graciously.
"Thank you my dear"
She eyed her daughter, who, over the course of three months, had grown. She appeared older, a teenager now. Perhaps fourteen or fifteen years old. But she still kept a childish innocence with her. Verona felt pride tingle throughout her body.
"Here, my dear. I bought you something"
Sera watched her mother as she took a box from the top shelf of Sera's closet. She took the lid off and Sera peered inside.
"Oh mama..." she gasped. A smile crept over her features.
"It's beautiful"
--
Seven o'clock came, and the first gush of guests were admitted. Tall aristocratic vampire ladies with dark hair and extravagant bejeweled masks and heavy gowns in various dark colors swept over the dance floor, accompanied by tall vampire men in long cloaks and dark attire. Acrobats in a variety of bright colors, contortionists, trapeze artists, ballerinas, and musicians were scattered across the enormous room. The orchestra played a slow, lilting waltz. And the count appeared, on the balcony above the dance floor. He looked relatively plain next to his brides. He wore a black blouse, black velvet vest, black pants, boots, and a black cloak, embroidered with midnight blue. But he stood out, among the others. He radiated high class, nobility. He carried himself in a way that showed he was the leader of the group. His long silky mane of black hair was swept back into his ever present ponytail, and was held with a silver clasp, decked with deep blue-black stones. His eyes were endless pools of black, glinting with evil and wicked wisdom.
Aleera stood before him, her head resting on his shoulder. Her dress was pure white silk, layer upon layer of it. The cut was revealing, the neckline plunged to show off her full chest, her neck accentuated only by a silver choker, decked with diamonds. The sleeves were long and billowy, but were tight at the hem. The gown shimmered and sparkled in the light. She looked like an unholy angel with a halo of fire. An angel who had her wings ripped from her back and wasn't at all unhappy with hell.
Marishka favored gold. Her lavish tastes were not what one might expect of an expert in the art of torture, but Marishka loved the idea of her victims dying lusting for their own mistress of pain. The dress was cut almost to her navel, the sheer fabric giving the effect of a see-through gown, but it wasn't really. Even Marishka wouldn't go that far. The slashed sleeves exposed slices of her tan arms, and the slit skirt exposed her long legs and gold heels whenever she took a step. She stood beside her master, one hand on his chest and the other on his shoulder, her cheek against his upper arm.
Verona had a more modest gown. Olive green silk, with a scoop neck line and long, full sleeves that dropped to the floor and mingled with the frothy mass of material that was the hem of her dress. Her hair was curled loosely and fell about her shoulders in a waterfall of ebony strands. A necklace of gold and amber bedecked her long neck. She stood on Dracula's other side, tall and proud, her hand entwined with his.
Before him was Sera, in the dress her mother had secretly purchased for her. It was of blue-grey satin, with drop pearls scattered on it, that clinked and tinkled with her every movement. Her long hair was curled and fixed back with a jeweled headband. Beautifully crafted satin slippers adorned her feet.
On the balcony, the family surveyed the guests. The dances were slow, modest waltzes, and the dancers below moved with solemn, planned steps. Dracula whispered into the ears of Aleera and Marishka.
"Show them how it is done, my dears"
They smiled, looked at each other, and leapt gracefully from the balcony, alighting on the dance floor. They moved slowly and sinuously, turning the modest waltz into an erotic belly-dance, twisting and turning, brushing their scantily clad bodies against man and women, their presence livening up the entire dance floor. Acrobats twirled and threw themselves into intricate arches and tumbles across their stands, the musicians played with more heart, and the count smiled.
Sera too leapt from the balcony, but she ran lightly to the golden staircase at the opposite end of the hall. The Little Ones, vampires bitten at a young age, normally sat there, watching the dancing. She joined them, and the two little girls who sat there acknowledged her with a nod. She sat between them, allowing one little girl to cuddle against her arm.
---
Below, Dracula was engaged in a dance with Verona. Sera watched her parents with pride as they swept between the other couples, masks firmly in place, fingers entwined. The small vampire beside her looked up, brown eyes wide behind her mask.
"That is your mama and papa?"
Sera nodded. The little girl smiled, exposing small fangs.
"I cannot remember my parents" she said, slightly wistfully. Sera nodded knowingly. The little girl resumed watching the dancers below.
Sera toyed with the silver mask that covered her eyes, the ornate designs on it were cool beneath her pale fingers, and she stroked the carvings lovingly. She breathed out a low, contented sigh.
---
Outside in the cold, a lone figure waited. Every now and then, his breath would be expelled in a misty cloud into the chilly air. A shiver jerked along his spine, and he pulled his coat in closer to his body. A carriage, complete with a team of stamping and shivering horses was in the street beside him. He checked the watch that hung from his belt, sighed, and huddled in closer to the wall. Waiting.
---
Sera walked down from her perch, bidding the two small vampires a farewell. She watched the dance from the sidelines, her dark eyes darting from couple to couple. She walked to the other balcony, to accompany her father, who was overseeing the ball with a smirk.
"Sera" he said.
"I would think you would be off dancing with your aunts or mother by now" she shook her head.
"But I do enjoy your company" he said with a smile. She sat beside him.
"Why do you have the ball every year, master?" He winced slightly at the stuffy title, but shrugged it off.
"To make sure all my followers remain true to me. And for the fun of it. What is immortality without a party or two to enjoy?" Sera nodded.
"Only a year ago did Gabriel try to attack me during the ball" he said with a smile.
"He and his friar lackey blew out all the windows…killed one hundred and fifty loyal vampires…"
He shook his head.
"Gabriel know not know when to stop his foolish attacks against me"
Sera smiled.
"Why does he hate us so?"
Dracula took a breath.
"We knew each other…many many years ago. We were friends…but we split sides…and he murdered me in the name of…god" he spat the word.
"He doesn't remember anything at all. He lost his memory. But he has always been the left hand of god…and I will continue to serve the devil"
He shrugged.
"I only can hope he and the order will stop this fruitless attempt to make me surrender by taking you"
Sera looked up, her own eyes cold.
"I do not fear the Order, master" she said, her voice strong.
Dracula smiled coldly.
"Good, my dear. You are the immortal. You have nothing to fear"
He kissed the top of her head and swept down the golden spiral stairs to the dance floor.
---
Outside, the figure looked at his watch, sighed again, and opened the doors to the hall.
---
Sera watched the dancers, her heart thudding slightly faster, adrenaline receding from her veins. Suddenly, she let out a shrill squeak as a gloved hand caught her from behind and pulled her into the hall. He replaced his hand with a cloth, and she immediately smelled something strange. Her brain began to go fuzzy, but not before she recognized the man who held her. His eyes shone with regret, just as hers shone with hatred.
Van Helsing!