Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in Van Helsing. But that's alright, because I had Subway (actually, I haven't and I'm kinda hungry).
Devil's Love
Chapter Four
The man who had just entered his room was one of the strangest Carl had ever seen. The man was short, his back hunched slightly, his face pale and deformed. He mostly looked at the floor, occasionally glancing up at the friar.
"The master wishes for your presence in the dinner hall," he muttered, beckoning for Carl to follow. The friar rose, leaving his cloak on the seat, and followed the man out the door and down the corridor. Carl had never been out of the little room he had woken up in, so he looked all around himself, craning his head, trying to see into the other rooms. But his spirits only got lower as they walked down an immeasurable amount of halls and stairs, passing numerous rooms; it was like a maze. How would Van ever find him?
Finally, the man stopped at a pair of stone doors, each engraved with an intricate design of a winged snake. Carl narrowed his eyes in concentration; he had seen that symbol before, but where? Before he could think any harder, the doors swung open, and he felt a nudge in the small of his back. When Carl didn't move, the small man pushed harder; Carl stumbled and took a step through the doors. They swung shut behind him.
The vast ceiling of the hall was covered in shadow and the walls were lined with windows. Carl noticed that several of the windows had broken panes. Stands that held numerous thick, wax candles were placed at intervals around the walls and at the long table set up in the center. The table where Dracula sat, slowly sipping a deep-red wine. To Carl's horror, the only other chair was next to the vampire. Though the friar felt that he was on the point of starvation (and the food did smell wonderful, he noticed), his stomach churned at the thought of eating with this monster.
When he didn't move, Dracula raised an eyebrow. "Come, Carl," he said lightly, beckoning for the friar to come over. "Your seat is over here."
How does he know my name?
"Did you not hear me?" The corners of Dracula's mouth twitched up. "Your seat is over here."
Suddenly, with no warning at all, Carl's feet moved, carrying him toward the table. His mind refused for him to go any closer, but his body didn't listen. The sickening thought that Dracula must be controlling him somehow entered Carl's mind. Then the friar reached his chair, which was held out for him by the count. How did he get there? I didn't even see him move.
"I see Igor brought you here in good order," Dracula said in a pleasant tone. Once he saw Carl was seated, the count returned to his own, sitting down gracefully. Graceful, Carl thought, like a coiled snake unwinding, then striking, all in one fluid motion. A dangerous grace.
"Please, serve yourself."
Carl filled his plate, constantly wary of the vampire next to him. However, Dracula made no move, besides silently sipping his wine now and then. The distant thought that the food might've been poisoned entered Carl's mind as he took a small bite from an apple, but he quickly dismissed it. He was too hungry to care. He took a larger bite from a piece of roasted chicken, noticing as he swallowed, that it was warmer then he had felt since he had awakened to find himself in the castle.
Dracula watched Carl with amusement. The friar had started to eat with much more gusto. "You must have been quite hungry," he commented. "Or do you always eat like this?"
Carl's fork stopped half-way to his mouth and then was slowly lowered back down to his plate. Van had said much the same when he had first seen the friar's eating habits. A wave of loneliness washed over Carl, engulfing him, as he thought again of how much he missed the hunter. "Why are you doing this?" he asked quietly.
"I told you earlier, did I not, little friar? It would be shameful for me to not care for my guests." Carl's disbelief must have shown on his face. Dracula's eyes narrowed slightly and his voice lost some of its pleasantness. "Do you think because I am dead, I have lost my manners? My humanity?"
Yes, yes I do, Carl thought. But he couldn't say that for fear of what Dracula might do to him. His knuckles were turning white as he gripped his fork harder. Carl's every instinct was to clasp his hands protectively over his throat. Dracula's dark eyes were on him, waiting for an answer. Finally, after long moments of silence, Carl forced out, "Y- you...made a covenant with....with the devil."
Dracula's piercing eyes flickered from Carl's face to the cross around his neck. "You are a man of God, are you not, little friar?" the count asked, lazily swirling the deep-red wine in his glass. "You would not understand my reasons for doing what I did." He propped his elbow up on the table, leaning his head against the back of his hand. His eyes reflected the candlelight as he continued. To Carl, it seemed like Dracula wasn't talking to him anymore, but to someone else, maybe to himself. "But I remember what it is like to be as you are now. To feel, to love, to have ambitions. But then...I do still have an ambition, a goal. A dream you might call it."
Is he not as heartless as I thought?
However, before Carl could even open his mouth to ask of Dracula's dream, the vampire's eyes suddenly became focused. He stared beyond Carl's shoulder to the corner of the ceiling. Carl whirled his head around, hearing the tendons crack as he did so, turning as far as his chair would allow him. But he could not see anything in the shadows.
"Verona, Aleera," Dracula spoke, eyes still on the ceiling. "I do not believe you were invited. Leave."
Two voices, women's voices, rose. The voices were incoherent to Carl as they bounced off the cavernous walls and the vast ceiling. However, Dracula's face didn't change; but something in his eyes did.
"Leave. Now."
Carl was startled. The vampire's voice was hard, cold. The friar had never heard Dracula speak like that, not even to him. Then another thought filled his mind: Why was that so startling to him? Why was it so strange to hear this seemingly ruthless vampire speak so coldly?
Dracula kept his eyes on the corner above Carl's head. Finally, he looked down, as is satisfied, and rooted his gaze on the friar before him. "My apologies," he said, once again polite. "Forgive them. It has been long since they have had to deal with guests."
Carl mumbled something, keeping his eyes on his table. It was then that he noticed that there was no plate in front of Dracula. Recalling the evening since he entered the hall, he realized that Dracula had eaten nothing. He had just sat there, sipping his wine, not even glancing at the food. Carl's insatiable curiosity forced him to ask about it.
"I have not eaten for four hundred years," Dracula said. His eyes momentarily lingered on the food on Carl's plate. "I can not taste it. Food will not satisfy and no drink will slake my thirst. Only blood will fill me."
Suddenly, Carl wasn't sure if that was wine in the count's glass.
End of Chapter Four
Haha, I updated. Actually, I should have updated a lot sooner, but I never got much time to type. But the good news is that summer vacation is three days away (thank God). Then I can spend all the time (that's not taken up by marching band) writing my lovely fics and such! Oooh...and I got to go see Van Helsing for the second time (and Carl was just as hot!) so I picked up a lot of stuff I didn't get the first time. Pray that this time I update faster!! Review for me and tell me what you think!
Devil's Love
Chapter Four
The man who had just entered his room was one of the strangest Carl had ever seen. The man was short, his back hunched slightly, his face pale and deformed. He mostly looked at the floor, occasionally glancing up at the friar.
"The master wishes for your presence in the dinner hall," he muttered, beckoning for Carl to follow. The friar rose, leaving his cloak on the seat, and followed the man out the door and down the corridor. Carl had never been out of the little room he had woken up in, so he looked all around himself, craning his head, trying to see into the other rooms. But his spirits only got lower as they walked down an immeasurable amount of halls and stairs, passing numerous rooms; it was like a maze. How would Van ever find him?
Finally, the man stopped at a pair of stone doors, each engraved with an intricate design of a winged snake. Carl narrowed his eyes in concentration; he had seen that symbol before, but where? Before he could think any harder, the doors swung open, and he felt a nudge in the small of his back. When Carl didn't move, the small man pushed harder; Carl stumbled and took a step through the doors. They swung shut behind him.
The vast ceiling of the hall was covered in shadow and the walls were lined with windows. Carl noticed that several of the windows had broken panes. Stands that held numerous thick, wax candles were placed at intervals around the walls and at the long table set up in the center. The table where Dracula sat, slowly sipping a deep-red wine. To Carl's horror, the only other chair was next to the vampire. Though the friar felt that he was on the point of starvation (and the food did smell wonderful, he noticed), his stomach churned at the thought of eating with this monster.
When he didn't move, Dracula raised an eyebrow. "Come, Carl," he said lightly, beckoning for the friar to come over. "Your seat is over here."
How does he know my name?
"Did you not hear me?" The corners of Dracula's mouth twitched up. "Your seat is over here."
Suddenly, with no warning at all, Carl's feet moved, carrying him toward the table. His mind refused for him to go any closer, but his body didn't listen. The sickening thought that Dracula must be controlling him somehow entered Carl's mind. Then the friar reached his chair, which was held out for him by the count. How did he get there? I didn't even see him move.
"I see Igor brought you here in good order," Dracula said in a pleasant tone. Once he saw Carl was seated, the count returned to his own, sitting down gracefully. Graceful, Carl thought, like a coiled snake unwinding, then striking, all in one fluid motion. A dangerous grace.
"Please, serve yourself."
Carl filled his plate, constantly wary of the vampire next to him. However, Dracula made no move, besides silently sipping his wine now and then. The distant thought that the food might've been poisoned entered Carl's mind as he took a small bite from an apple, but he quickly dismissed it. He was too hungry to care. He took a larger bite from a piece of roasted chicken, noticing as he swallowed, that it was warmer then he had felt since he had awakened to find himself in the castle.
Dracula watched Carl with amusement. The friar had started to eat with much more gusto. "You must have been quite hungry," he commented. "Or do you always eat like this?"
Carl's fork stopped half-way to his mouth and then was slowly lowered back down to his plate. Van had said much the same when he had first seen the friar's eating habits. A wave of loneliness washed over Carl, engulfing him, as he thought again of how much he missed the hunter. "Why are you doing this?" he asked quietly.
"I told you earlier, did I not, little friar? It would be shameful for me to not care for my guests." Carl's disbelief must have shown on his face. Dracula's eyes narrowed slightly and his voice lost some of its pleasantness. "Do you think because I am dead, I have lost my manners? My humanity?"
Yes, yes I do, Carl thought. But he couldn't say that for fear of what Dracula might do to him. His knuckles were turning white as he gripped his fork harder. Carl's every instinct was to clasp his hands protectively over his throat. Dracula's dark eyes were on him, waiting for an answer. Finally, after long moments of silence, Carl forced out, "Y- you...made a covenant with....with the devil."
Dracula's piercing eyes flickered from Carl's face to the cross around his neck. "You are a man of God, are you not, little friar?" the count asked, lazily swirling the deep-red wine in his glass. "You would not understand my reasons for doing what I did." He propped his elbow up on the table, leaning his head against the back of his hand. His eyes reflected the candlelight as he continued. To Carl, it seemed like Dracula wasn't talking to him anymore, but to someone else, maybe to himself. "But I remember what it is like to be as you are now. To feel, to love, to have ambitions. But then...I do still have an ambition, a goal. A dream you might call it."
Is he not as heartless as I thought?
However, before Carl could even open his mouth to ask of Dracula's dream, the vampire's eyes suddenly became focused. He stared beyond Carl's shoulder to the corner of the ceiling. Carl whirled his head around, hearing the tendons crack as he did so, turning as far as his chair would allow him. But he could not see anything in the shadows.
"Verona, Aleera," Dracula spoke, eyes still on the ceiling. "I do not believe you were invited. Leave."
Two voices, women's voices, rose. The voices were incoherent to Carl as they bounced off the cavernous walls and the vast ceiling. However, Dracula's face didn't change; but something in his eyes did.
"Leave. Now."
Carl was startled. The vampire's voice was hard, cold. The friar had never heard Dracula speak like that, not even to him. Then another thought filled his mind: Why was that so startling to him? Why was it so strange to hear this seemingly ruthless vampire speak so coldly?
Dracula kept his eyes on the corner above Carl's head. Finally, he looked down, as is satisfied, and rooted his gaze on the friar before him. "My apologies," he said, once again polite. "Forgive them. It has been long since they have had to deal with guests."
Carl mumbled something, keeping his eyes on his table. It was then that he noticed that there was no plate in front of Dracula. Recalling the evening since he entered the hall, he realized that Dracula had eaten nothing. He had just sat there, sipping his wine, not even glancing at the food. Carl's insatiable curiosity forced him to ask about it.
"I have not eaten for four hundred years," Dracula said. His eyes momentarily lingered on the food on Carl's plate. "I can not taste it. Food will not satisfy and no drink will slake my thirst. Only blood will fill me."
Suddenly, Carl wasn't sure if that was wine in the count's glass.
End of Chapter Four
Haha, I updated. Actually, I should have updated a lot sooner, but I never got much time to type. But the good news is that summer vacation is three days away (thank God). Then I can spend all the time (that's not taken up by marching band) writing my lovely fics and such! Oooh...and I got to go see Van Helsing for the second time (and Carl was just as hot!) so I picked up a lot of stuff I didn't get the first time. Pray that this time I update faster!! Review for me and tell me what you think!