Chapter 5: Plans

The north tower library was dark and D was asleep with a book on his lap when he suddenly felt the presence of his father beside him. He opened his eyes, remembered it was an atlas on his lap, and closed the book.

"Father?" he asked the impending silence. "Did you want something?"

"I was just admiring you," the old vampire said in his distinguished, cool voice. "You've grown so much these past few years, though I daresay you've got a bit more growing left to do before you're done."
D realized that his father sounded less weary and more youthful than he had in the past few weeks. Then he realized that he could smell blood- his father had fed very recently. The smell was unusually strong, and it made him uncomfortable, which his father immediately noticed. "The smell," he said wisely. "It bothers you lately."

"Yes," D admitted, since it was true. His father's expression was tinged with regret.

"But never mind that- I wanted to talk to you. Tell me- do you know what year the humans call it?"

"This year, father? It's 1914." Twelve years had passed since the fateful day when the men had tried to kill D and the demon had come into his hand. D never told his father about anything that happened that day, though he had been planning almost constantly since then to escape into the wide, welcoming world.

"Yes, that's right," his father said distractedly. "You know there's a war on?"

"There's always a war on," D answered, fangs gleaming as he yawned and stood to return the atlas to its shelf.

"Indeed. I'm talking about the current war in Europe; it's causing quite a stir. Never been anything like it before, what with the new technological advances in weaponry and such…"

"I've read about it," D said, feeling edgy and impatient. The sharp smell of blood seemed to be suffocating him.

"Well I've decided to do something I haven't done since before you were born," the vampire king explained. "Something fairly exciting: I'm summoning a number of aristocrats here for a meeting. The war's inspired me: we need to organize, regroup, and stick to a coherent strategy for this modern age. And I think we can use the war to our advantage."

"How many is 'a number'?" D asked suspiciously. There hadn't been a proper visitor to the castle since that Harker fellow 18 years previously. D recalled with amusement how the bewildered businessman had thwarted his father's intentions and survived, and published his whole ordeal in a book, which was how D came to learn of it. His father had been furious, until he realized that most of the humans thought it was a fictional story.

"About a hundred," his father replied. "In the old days we had gatherings of five times that number, but alas, our noble race has fallen unto hard times."

D felt the demon smirking in his palm. It was common knowledge that many vampires blamed their race's recent downfall on the poor judgment and emotional instability of their king: when he fell in love with D's mother, he ceased to care about vampire affairs, and a period of chaotic feuding erupted, which was ongoing.

"A hundred?" D echoed. "But the castle…"

His father sighed. "I know, it needs a little renovation. That's the other thing I've come to talk to you about. With the recent shortage of appropriate laborers, I've actually hired some humans. I'm going to rely on your help to supervise them."

"Humans?" D was astounded. It seemed to him that his father had lost his mind. "You've hired humans to renovate the castle?"

"Precisely," his father said. "Come to my study, I'd like to discuss the plans with you in depth." He disappeared. D frowned, and headed for the door.

The workers arrived the following week. D, dressed in proper modern clothing with his usually long hair neatly trimmed, met them at the new train station, in the now-thriving town. The last time D had been to the town had been on an outing with his mother, about a century previously. He was amazed, and a little unnerved, to see that nothing was as he remembered. Standing on the platform, he found himself casually watching a mother trying to control her two excited children. She was beautiful, with dark golden hair pulled back and a fashionable dark blue skirt, and she smiled and laughed as her little girl and even littler boy asked her questions and begged to be allowed this and that. Suddenly D felt his heart flutter- and he realized that he recognized her. It was none other than Tasia Belus. Only she'll have a different last name now, he thought. He felt a twinge of sadness. To him it seemed like yesterday that he'd eaten cake on her 10th birthday, and yet somehow a hugely important part of her life had passed by, without him. Surely she remembers me, he thought, and at that moment she happened to turn her eyes towards him. She met his gaze, and froze. D raised his hand shyly in greeting. Tasia pulled her children close, muttered something to them, and then looked up again. Then, with an air of determination, she strode towards him.

"D?" she asked, when she was about 20 feet away.

"Tasia?" he asked, and tried to smile- mindful to keep his mouth mostly closed, of course.

"I can't believe it," she said softly. "It's been ten years at least,"

"12," D corrected.

"It's like a miracle. They said they killed you,"

"They certainly tried to," D said, trying to be cheerful, for he could sense the curiosity of the children turning to fear at the word 'killed'. "You're married now?" he said, to change the subject. "And these are your children?"

"Yes," Tasia said, blushing. "Samantha will be 7 soon, Geoffrey is 4."

"They're lovely," D said. "Just like their mother." Tasia looked hard into his eyes.

"I- I prayed for you," she said haltingly.

"Those prayers were much needed, I assure you," D said.

"You look the same. A little taller..."

"Yes, it's rather embarrassing, I'm nearly thirty but I don't even need to shave… the doctors say it's a medical mystery. They wanted to send me to London to see some specialists but the war, you know, it rather got in the way of their plans."

Tasia's face relaxed as she seized onto an answer. "I've never heard of such a thing, but perhaps all the medicines you took as a child…"

"Yes, surely it's something like that," D said weakly. He felt horrible for deceiving her, but what choice did he have?

"Momma, the train!" Geoffrey said, pointing down the track. Sure enough, the train was arriving. D felt relieved. Soon it would be on to business.

"How is your mother?" He asked, noticing Tasia still looking at him.

"Oh! She's doing wonderfully, she lives in town now, near our house. I know she'd be delighted to see you; won't you drop in sometime? How about this Saturday? It will be a regular celebration. Imagine it- it's like you're back from the dead! oh I do hope that's not blasphemous."

"You were dead?" Samantha asked suddenly, staring at D with enormous, innocent brown eyes.

"No, not exactly," D said.

"Samantha, what a silly question," Tasia scolded. "D, what do you say? Will you come to dinner on Saturday?"

More than anything, he knew he wanted to, but how would he manage it around the renovation schedule? Today was Monday- surely in six days time there would be some legitimate excuse to return to the town. D smiled and bowed. "It would be an unrivaled honor," he said, "and certainly the most pleasurable company I've had in twelve years or so."

Tasia laughed at his dramatic air, and the train slowed to a noisy hissing halt in front of them. The first man off the train was a brown-haired man of average height with an impressive moustache and a broad smile.

"Daddy!" shrieked the children, running to his legs. He swooped them up and hugged them, kissing them and swinging them around.

"My princess!" He said to Samantha, beaming. "Why don't you inspect my pockets, they're feeling oddly heavy…" within seconds the children were busy unwrapping their presents, and the man reached for his beautiful wife. They embraced.

"Goodness, how you carry on," Tasia scolded, but she smiled just as brightly as he.

"Beware, my lady, or I shall carry you off!" he said, and picked her up.

"Oh!" Tasia gasped, blushing. "Put me down, you scoundrel." She looked over at D and her husband followed her gaze. Immediately he put Tasia down and offered D his hand.

"Hello, how do you do? Richard Rowntree."

"This is my old friend D," Tasia explained before D could speak. D found himself shaking the man's warm, wide hand.

"Pleasure," Richard said.

"All mine, I assure you, Mr. Rowntree," D said, feeling overwhelmed.

"I've invited D to dinner this Saturday," Tasia said.

"Splendid!" Richard said cheerfully. "I look forward to it."

"As do I," D replied politely.

Somehow the situation sorted itself out at the train station and at sundown a caravan of ten mule-drawn wagons, loaded with men and equipment, set out on the long journey to the castle. The renovations were scheduled to take three weeks, and were to cost D's father an unheard of sum of money. D acted as liaison between the men and his father, and he found that he rather enjoyed their company. They were an industrious, dedicated bunch of men, all glad of the well-paying job that was far, far from the fields of France. They took pride in their work, and didn't ask too many questions, and there was a distinct feeling of teamwork among them. They were simple, almost crude, and they teased D in a brotherly way, which he didn't mind at all. By Friday it appeared that there was going to be a minor shortage of odd supplies, and though the foreman assured D that they could get by without, D insisted that he would go to town over the weekend to buy exactly what they were missing. The men had off on Sunday, so there was no hurry for D to return Saturday night. Several men made requests for personal items, and D promised to buy them whatever they wanted. And so with a shopping list in hand, D returned to the town on Saturday, and kept his promise to Tasia.

To D's relief, dinner went well. The children warmed to him quickly, especially after Tasia told them that he had pointed ears, which he had then been forced to reveal. The children were enchanted by this oddity, and D became their favorite person. Richard was an accomplished businessman from York, who had been to India and to various islands in the Caribbean, and to America several times. D found that he liked talking to him, and he saw that he truly adored his wife. The Rowntree family taught him more about being human in that one evening than hundreds of books had taught him in all his long years of study before that. And old Mrs. Belus was so overjoyed to see him, it was as if her own son had returned, as Tasia remarked, from the dead. After dessert, as they all sat around the fire, Tasia's eyes sparkled as she brought in the very Bible that D had read to her in the cottage all those years ago, and asked if he might read a verse or two. Honored, D took the Bible, and read chapter after chapter in his gentle, soothing voice until the children, and old Mrs. Belus, were sound asleep. They invited him back for dinner the following Saturday, and D accepted.

A/N: Man, this chapter gave me problems. I liked the first part, but I really strangled the rest of it, because I felt like I was getting bogged down in the "happy human family" stuff. I needed to get back to the bloody vampire stuff.