Disclaimer: I don't own Van Helsing or the characters…ok, you know the drill. Do I need to repeat it?
Devil's Love
Chapter Twelve
At first, Carl thought he had lost his sight. Panicking, he grabbed onto Dracula, who still had a firm grip on his arm. But then Carl blinked and his sight was restored. They were both standing in the room Carl had been confined in.
And then the devil gave him wings.
Dracula carefully pried the friar's fingers from his shirt-front. Carl found that the vampire's cold touch no longer shocked him, that he was growing accustomed to it. But he still pulled his hands out of the count's grasp. "You didn't have to do that," Carl said indignantly.
"I didn't have to save you either."
Carl paused. Yes, he'd been surprised when the count had shown up to save him, but at the time, he hadn't thought about it. "Why did you save me?"
"You're still useful, you can't die yet," Dracula replied, a slight smile twitching at the corners of his lips. "And I do believe I've taken a liking to you, little friar. You confound me in every way."
The statement made Carl forget even the gashes on his arm that were bleeding openly. "I…?"
Dracula shook his head, the small smile still playing across his face. He motioned toward Carl's bleeding arm. "I think you have a more pressing matter."
Carl stumbled backward as the count reached out for him. It was more an automatic reaction now than a movement fueled by fear. When had Carl's disgust vanished?
"I don't need help," Carl said, trying to cover up his actions. He did know how to wrap injuries. It was a requirement for everyone to know at least basic medical skills in the Vatican's secret order. Carl had bandaged several of Van Helsing's wound. Besides, he wasn't to keen to have more vampire healing performed on him. "I'll bandage it myself."
"You only have one hand," Dracula replied. The friar couldn't argue with that. Suddenly, the vampire was behind him, a hand on Carl's good arm, leading him to the bed. Carl didn't know whether he was moving of his own violation or because of Dracula's influence. Nevertheless, Carl seated himself at the foot of the bed. As Dracula released his arm, the vampire's fingers brushed over the bleeding. Carl drew back in fear. Van Helsing had told him many frightening stories about vampires and their bloodlust. But then the hunter had always laughed afterward and joked with Carl, telling the friar that he would never make it out of the abbey to see it.
Shows what he knows.
Dracula licked the blood from his fingers with a smile that chilled Carl. "I have more control than you give me credit for. Now, I am respecting your wishes for no healing power, so it is only my duty as a host to help you treat your wounds."
"I-I can manage on my own," Carl stammered out. He didn't want the vampire touching any more than he could avoid it. He reached out for his bag that lay on the floor against the bed, but his fingers barely brushed the strap. Before he could shift to fully reach it, the bag was in Dracula's hands.
"Give that here!"
"…What's this?"
Dracula, who had been shifting through Carl's pack, suddenly stopped. He pulled his arm out of the bag; clutched in his fist was Carl's light compressor. The magma from Mount Vesuvius and the alkali from the Gobi Desert mixture lightly lapped against the glass globe as Dracula turned it in his hand, examining it. His fingers closed around one of the knobs on top. He began to twist it.
Carl's face went white.
"Don't!"
End of Chapter Twelve
I actually had this chapter written up much earlier, but with marching band and my brother's wedding, I didn't have time to get it typed up. But now it is! The next chapter has been started, but it might take a bit before it is up. I plan to start up a few my other stories that got a bit shut-down during my long break. Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you did, please review and let me know!