Part One

The Hindustan Aeronautics Limited airport was even more crowded than the one in New Delhi, despite being of a smaller size and generally lower traffic. The installations were more modern than Integral had given credit for; there were newly produced machines along with the plastic, blue signals in both Kannada and English that gave it a professional air. When she thought of another city outside the Capital of India, the knight had in mind exotic, barbaric destinations with prehistoric technology lost in time.

The Silicon Valley of India, Integral reminded to herself the handful times her mother used to talk about Bangalore, describing the proud buildings, universities and green gardens in rich detail.

"Look at that," Integral gestured Alucard towards the international flights platform of section two. "That explains this amount of people," she pursed her lips up. The area was filled not mostly with tourists, passengers, and their relatives and friends, but the press and the curious fellow who assaulted the flights coming non-stop from London. They raised their cameras and took pictures or filmed at the surprised people who were leaving the planes. "My guess was right. Our visit was leaked."

"We are famous," Alucard said amused, pausing her to purchase the daily issue of The Times of India in one of the stores. The issue contained headline about the visit accompanied with a photograph of both of them taken while they entered Windsor Palace in a white Rolls Royce. "Pity they cannot see through the visages of my illusions."

Integral did not know what she resembled or what form he took in prying eyes and preferred to leave that mystery alone. It was effective that was all that mattered. Pity her relatives' chauffer would not recognise them either. That was why they would have to find their own transport.

"You were famous already before of that, Count," Integral grinned, looking at the article and scanning the supplement, Bangalore Times, with a full gossip article regarding her whereabouts that discredited the most serious news in the headline.

"But I had a terrible reputation outside Romania, Integra. Did that improve now? How did you explain the Hotel Rio incidents?"

Integral tucked the newspaper and it joined its British cousin inside her handbag. "I didn't. I am not the knight in charge of press conferences." Thank God for the small mercies. She loathed dealing with the press. "We should hurry, we are already delayed, Alucard."

They separated paths after that; Integral pushed her way towards their luggage while Alucard took charge of any tiresome Customs paperwork they required to pick up his coffin from the cargo. She could imagine how the conversation would go.

May I have your name, Sir? What did you say your 'wife' and you are doing in Bangalore? Pleasure? Business? Family was always business for Integral. May I have your passports, Sir-with-a-clearly-invented-alias? They would raise inquiring eyebrows at the IDs and before they could protest, the witless agents would have no problem with their identities and luggage.

"No problem at all," Alucard whispered near her ear. Integral gave a slight startled jump and turned around. He smirked widely and handed her back her passport; she accepted it with an embarrassed cough.

"You arrived just in time to carry the suitcases," Integral indicated, retiring most of the luggage. "Regarding your last domain…"

"I already hired workers to send it to the correct address," Alucard assured her dismissively, grasping the two suitcases up. "We had a quick talk about how fragile it is." Integral followed him as the vampire opened a path among the mass. By hired, he meant brainwash; by quick talk, threatened to do horrible things if he found a single scratch.

Finding a taxi would have been a difficult task if Alucard's mesmerizing powers did not work or if she had ethics to use them in order to cheat the line of waiting. The vehicle was old and spacious; the backseats were made of a tick leather fabric rather uncomfortable to sit on because the sun had heated them. Alucard accommodated his sunglasses and gave the address to the driver. He was better learned in Kannada; he had been 'studying' during dinner.

The city itself was not terrible. Integral even thought the temperature more tolerable than New Delhi. The air carried moisture and there was a soft breeze in the environment. She surveyed the citizens with mild interest; she had been too occupied in escaping the airport to care for them there.

The myriad of colours impacted her. The city blended in grey streets under a turquoise sky, framed by auburn trees. Some of the people walking were wearing western fashion but others exhibited traditional clothes of vibrant colours and dramatic flowing fabrics laced with ornate and intricate embellishments. There were wanderers, businessmen, housewives and children strolling alongside with contrasting outfits as if it were normal routine. Her gaze detained briefly on the female construction workers carrying bricks with recipients over their heads their orange, cyan and magenta saris nearly spotless.

Bangalore was so alive. Transfixed as she was, Integral almost smelled the flowers of the numerous gardens over the smoke of the cars. It was so different from London, from Midian. The amount of movement dazzled her; she could not follow everyone, she could not take all buildings' details and reminded herself the shapeless constructions on the dead Capital of England. Her senses tickled and the joyful daily routine scenery shifted to another darker.

The temperature dropped, the climate changed to template instead of tropical. Integral saw the night opening outside the window, stars shining on the moonless sky. Flowing blue curtains were moved to a side by the refreshing breeze. She was not inside a cab riding towards Palace Orchads to meet her relatives; she was in a sumptuous chamber filled with satin sheets and velvet cushions. Inside, it was warm and spicy. She felt tired as if she had been running for a long time, her mind was drowsy.

"Contessa," a voice purred behind her, cold hands covered her eyes and Integral heard her mouth let go a fit of coquettish giggles. She touched her own body, it was plumber than she remembered, her chest was firm and she had uncharacteristic lack of muscles, only fat. The man pinched her nipples with possession, she giggled harder and then forced her to stand. "Contessa," he repeated once more as they walked away from the window, to her left side.

"Lucrezia," she corrected him with a girlish voice. The man uncovered her eyes slowly and Integral stared at herself on the small mirror of the nightstand. She was wearing a purple bodice and an untied red gown with torn sleeves of forced passion. There was a veil with a yellow stripe covering the cosmetics and cheap jewels of the desk, and, not so far from the veil, an opened new copy of a book titled Dialogo: Della infinità d'amore.

Integral's throat closed when she examined her face, she looked older with pale cheeks and too much make up. Her hair was brown and had perfectly formed ringlets falling below her shoulders. She smiled and noticed she had a handful of teeth gone.

"Contessa," the man repeated, massaging her neck before clasping a pearl necklace around it. Her digits touched it in marvel without caring if he had no reflection or body heat while his bare form pressed firmly behind her own. Integral was alarmed when she sensed her eyelids closing when he filled her with kisses on her jaw, travelling down her neck. He paused near her beating pulse, her heart pounded so fast, excited and frightened.

The vampire bit her; dozens of sharp teeth sank into her throat. She screamed and struggled away from him but her captor's deadly grip did not release her, firmly holding in place. Integral thought thousands strategies to be set free but her strange body had one of its own. She smashed a bottle of perfume on his face, forcing him to loosen his grasp.

The door was locked, he had the key. Shrieking in what Integral recognised as Italian, she found herself desperate and without escape. There was only a way out. Her fantasy life flooded her mind with brief glimpses of invented memories: the pleasures and pains of being a lady of the night in Florence, both sneered and desired by society, living marked by shamelessly wearing a veil with a yellow streak. The unyielding wish to climb into high society courtesan that her kind never had.

Then, she had met him. The mysterious foreign nobleman that had appeared to be her saviour angel. He had promised her the world, as they lay together on the night she thought herself fortunate. His body had been so cold yet his words had inflamed her spirit. How mistaken had she been? Her instinct had told her that, in his embrace, she would be safe forever. Ladies of the nights were beautiful and brief like butterflies, they flew freely, feeding without monogamous restrains and, eventually, they had their wings cut out. Their magic dust wore down. Hers did a little too soon.

Integral barely realized she was falling off the building, the shards of her broken window cut her face and forearms; she had been trapped in watching the rewind of a life that was hers and not to note when she had thrown herself.

The ground was just about to welcome Integral to a hard, quick death when a frozen darkness engulfed her completely, lifting her away from that fate. The only remains of her escape were the bloodstained, shattered glass and the pearls of the undone necklace.

"Release me immediately!" Integral managed to shout, attempting in vain to shake the cold hold on her frame. She could move herself freely, her body seemed to finally obey her.

"Are you certain I should carry on that order?"

Integral blinked, the vision of the tragic Italian night faded in that eyebat. She was looking at the confused faces of curious Bangalore citizens who had stopped by the vehicle to observe her strangely. She relaxed as Alucard pulled her back, straightening her position inside the taxi. The door of her side was opened. The driver turned around to inspect her with a worried expression.

"Did I fall asleep?" Integral asked, still agitated, her hands checked her neck nervously. No pearl necklace, no bitemarks there.

"You were awake," Alucard shook his head, leaning over her body in order to close the door. "I tried to call you but you didn't recognise me. You giggled oddly before starting to scream hysteric and attempted to throw yourself into the street. The gentleman," he gestured to the chauffer who gave a nod in assessment, "stopped the car in time for me to hold you."

"Oh, I see…" Integral trailed off, covering her face from the strangers before she could restrain the compulsion to hide. They could not see her true aspect, she reminded herself, and thus there was no shame in her image. "I wasn't dreaming, Alucard. That hallucination was too real. Too vivid…" Too familiar.

But weren't hallucinations supposed to feel like that? To confuse her senses to make her think that what she imagined was truly happening?

The knight could not speak anymore, untrusting to articulate a single intelligent word to justify her affliction, her jaw started to trembled in a combination of wariness, embarrassment and impotence. Integral shut her eyes tightly, touching the sweat on her forehead. Had the war traumatized her to the point of schizophrenia?

Alucard said something in Kannada to the cab driver during her distraction. The man started the engine and renewed the path. She was secretly glad to escape the questioning eyes of the curious people, assuming and judging her. They did not know, they should not be allowed to gossip about her.

"You are strong, Integra. You will overcome this eventually."

Integral nodded, agreeing to Alucard's statement wordlessly. However, she found his tone more blasé than overly worried. That made her doubt about how important the issue really was. Regardless, she had to put an end to her illness somehow. She was very certain that she would scare any therapist that acceded to attend her.

During the rest of the ride, Integral read The Times of India. She did not dare to glance at the street, afraid to imagine pearls and glass shards laying bloodstained on the pavement.


Thank you for the feedback so far. And to my editor StrangeSingaporean .