Chapter 6: The Celebration
The renovations on the castle were completed on time, and all the workers went away, quite happy with their paychecks, and only mildly troubled by the fact that they had never laid eyes on the 'Count' who had employed them. D accompanied them back to the train station to see them off, sold the wagons and mules, and went eagerly to his third meal with the Rowntrees.
They ate, and drank, and Richard told stories of his travels in America, of a mysterious, beautiful place called New Orleans, and the things he had seen there. He told a story he had heard there, a ghost story of a haunted house, and the witches who had cursed it with their evil magic.
"America has the best ghost stories!" Tasia exclaimed as the story ended.
"Do you believe in ghosts?" D asked.
"I most certainly do," Mrs. Belus spoke up. "My dead husband's ghost, I saw him several a time. But never I told dear Tasia, for it would have frightened her."
"Momma," Tasia said condescendingly. "I wouldn't have been scared. Why I thought D was a ghost the first time I saw him, and he became my best friend!" D nearly blushed. "As a matter of fact, when I saw him standing on the train station I was sure he was a ghost right then!"
"Are you a ghost?" Geoffrey asked. It seemed possible to the child.
"No," D said, smiling.
"And not a vampire either," Mrs. Belus declared.
"Quite right," D agreed, coughing a little as he took a sip of beer. "It seems to me that most people think vampires are just as unreal as ghosts," he continued.
"Most people are fools then," Mrs. Belus grumbled. "I know they exist."
"They exist in New Orleans, anyway," Richard said cheerfully, raising his drink. "People in the pubs swear up and down that they do. Lot of rubbish, but entirely entertaining."
"Well I guess we won't be going to America," D's hand grumbled as he rode home that night. "Pity. It sounds like such a fun place. I wanted to see the buffalo-" D stopped his horse. There was a carriage approaching behind him, traveling much too fast. He looked over his shoulder as it rounded the bend, lighted with unearthly blue lanterns and ornately decorated with gems. As D watched, the carriage pulled up beside him and came to a silent halt. The door flung itself open.
"By the Gods," an overdramatic female voice declared from the bluish darkness within. "You are nobility after all, from the look of you. I knew I sensed it. But what, by all things sacred, are you doing out here on a horse?"
D took an immediate disliking to the owner of the voice, who he seriously doubted was human. "I prefer to ride," he said quietly.
"Without an escort? I've never heard of such impropriety. Come, you must ride the rest of the way with me."
"I beg your pardon, but, who are you?" D asked.
"You may call me Madame Ecclav," she said imperiously, with a thick rolling accent. "Now don't disobey- step inside at once."
Unsure of why this stranger thought she had authority over him, D dismounted and pulled the bridle off his horse. It would find its way back to the stables, unmolested by wolves. Removing his hat, he stepped into the dimly lit carriage, and the door slammed shut behind him. He was vaguely aware of the carriage moving forward. Madame Ecclav was dressed in an elaborate costume made of hundreds of thousands of tiny blue sapphires sewn together with thin silver threads. She was, unmistakably, a vampire, with huge red eyes that looked extremely eerie in the blue surroundings. Her pale flesh looked nearly blue, her long, curving fingernails were painted blue, and her hair was dyed blue. D had read of the eccentricities of some of the older vampire families but he had never imagined something as extreme as this. Madame Ecclav had a tall, graceful, somehow flowing body that seemed to bend just a little too fluidly and flexibly.
"My Gods, who are you?" she asked, her red eyes widening.
"D," D replied. Madame Ecclav inhaled sharply, showing blue-white fangs.
"So the rumor's true: she had a child, after all- and he's still alive- and he's riding with me in my carriage!" She chuckled darkly, seeming inordinately proud of herself for stringing all this together. D repressed his indignation at the snide reference to his mother. "you look just like your father. I thought you were one of his nephews, invited to the celebration as I was. But now I see that you're a Dhampir- how distressing. But you must still be underage- perhaps your father is waiting for the thirst to awaken by itself. No use rushing, I suppose. You'll be your rightful way soon enough, though I imagine you're impatient at the moment."
D did his best to act like he understood what she was talking about, although what she said deeply confused and bothered him. They arrived at the castle several minutes later, having covered a distance that would have taken D a few hours on horseback, and D was surprised to see that several other guests had arrived at the same time. He felt stupid for not asking his father when the gathering would take place- he had simply assumed that, since he wasn't invited, he would ignore the whole business.
D stepped down from the carriage and politely offered his hand to Madame Ecclav. The gem-covered fabric rustled faintly as she descended from the carriage, emanating wealth and superiority and a cruel sense of dignity. She was cold and inhuman, regal and dangerous, and D hated her. He hated her for what she was, for her very existence. He longed to be back at the supper table with Tasia and her children, busy and warm and chattering. Madame Ecclav would have seen that family as a panther or an enormous serpent would see a family of squirrels- busy, brainless, lesser creatures to be destroyed with indifference. Madame Ecclav stood impossibly still, almost glowing like moonlight as her wine-colored eyes coolly surveyed the castle. She remained motionless for several moments, and D felt his impatience, like his disgust, rising. "What are you looking at?" he asked finally, breaking the spell. Madame Ecclav did not move, but her eyes flickered to his face in surprise.
"You cannot see it?" she whispered, "it must be your weaker blood exerting itself. Here, let me help you." Before D could dodge aside, Madame Ecclav grabbed his hand. She intertwined his fingers with hers- they were cold and smooth as polished stone- "Now close your eyes, then open them, and look." Curious, D obeyed- and when he looked up at the castle again, he saw, to his astonishment, bright lights blazing from every stone- the castle seemed to be on fire with emerald and violet flames of every hue- twisting colors and shapes played across every surface, forming animals, humans, demons, creatures, that ran and danced and leaped and disappeared like smoke, only to re-form as a new image. D had never seen anything so magnificent or magical. It was truly wondrous. Until Madame Ecclav touched him, he had only been able to see what humans would have seen- the plain grey stones of the castle, illuminated only by moonlight. Had they been able to see the display, humans would have found it brilliant and mesmerizing, yet somehow discomfiting, because there was a deliberate slowness in the way the colors changed and moved. Though they looked somewhat like flames, it was as though they moved in slow motion, and the dancing shapes and creatures formed and moved too slowly, as if time played differently for them. It was strong, beautiful magic. D's pulse quickened, which bothered Madame Ecclav.
"I've never liked touching things that are alive," she said snobbishly, dropping his hand. Instantly the colors died and the castle appeared as it had- cold, grey, and shadowy. "I usually have my servants hold my prey for me, you know, so I only have to touch their necks and not their filthy limbs or clothing." She tipped her chin up imperiously, and a smile curved her lips. D stared at her and fought to conceal his revulsion. "Let's get on to the party. I'm always on time; vanity demands it of me. I shan't have your father thinking poorly of me."
The interior of the castle was lavishly decorated with candles, tapestries and sculptures, grotesque and compelling, the work of vampire and demon artisans throughout the centuries. D noted that his father had put every piece of treasure on display, doubtlessly hoping to impress his guests and remind them that their king still had power. D slipped away to his chambers as soon as he could, leaving Madame Ecclav to boast silkily to some other vampires about his charming, noble character and how she had had the honor of his company. The castle was feeling crowded and D could tell that a number of unseen- and possibly uninvited- guests were following him in the walls and floor.
"Leave me alone," he grumbled, as several invisible creatures tried to whisper to him. He waved his hands angrily in front of him, feeling them pass through something like a cold vapor. He ran the last few steps to his bedroom and slipped inside the door, slamming it shut behind him. He turned and found himself face-to-face with his father.
"You're rather late," Dracula said dryly.
"What do you want?" D said, taken aback.
"Actually, I want to invite you to the meeting. I realized that I had forgotten to do so, and it was a terrible oversight on my part."
"I don't want any part of it. Isn't it just for vampires, anyway?"
"Ah. About that, you see, today is your birthday. You're 150 years old."
D blinked. What did that have to do with anything? His father sighed, and an almost-human expression stole across his face. "It's never happened before," he continued, looking worried and old, almost regretful. "…That a dhampir was… was anyone of importance… but you see, as my son, the time has come for you to take your place in our society-"
"What are you talking about? My place in your society? I haven't got a place in your society! I'm not your heir; immortals don't need heirs."
"You don't understand, and it's my fault, I know. I haven't explained anything to you because I've always thought of you as a child, just an… an innocent child. But the fact is, you are a prince, the prince, of the vampires. Whether you want to be or not, that's what you are. And now that you're the legal age, the aristocrats I have gathered here tonight are going to recognize you and respect you as my son. Truthfully, when I married your mother, they lost respect for me- and they all sneered at you. But that ends tonight. They will recognize you, as my legitimate son." Dracula gazed at D sternly, his face rigid with resolve.
D didn't know what to say. He felt a strong sense of foreboding. He felt a warning growing in the back of his mind. There was something immensely powerful hidden behind his father's eyes, something that demanded cooperation.
Dracula looked away and waved his hand in the direction of D's bed. D saw that a new set of clothing was laid out for him- all black, with several circular ornaments of sapphire and garnet. "Get dressed," his father said. "And come down to the banquet hall." The vampire king vanished. D hardly noticed his father's sudden departure. He was staring at the black outfit, a sort of dread seeping through him. The air grew thick and dead around him, and he knew he would have to obey his father. The entire castle was under powerful dark enchantment tonight, and D could tell that something sinister had been put into motion around him. He was trapped. Gracefully he undid the buttons on his human clothing, the costume he had worn to dinner in what seemed like another life. He put on the elegant black clothing, the clothing of a vampire prince. His pale face wrinkled in disgust as he realized the clothes were a perfect fit, and without needing a mirror or the cynical commentary of his possessed hand, he knew he looked the part.
D cracked open the door and peeked inside. The banquet hall was as big as a cathedral and just as magnificent. Tall candles lined the walls between statues both hideous and elegant. At the far end, there was a roaring fire in a fireplace as big as a cave. In front of the fireplace was a long table, with enough seats for all the guests. The table, covered with a red silk tablecloth, had nothing on top of it except for candles, bottles of wine, and crystal goblets. There were two chairs, side-by-side, that were more like thrones. D recognized one as belonging exclusively to his father. Sickened, he realized that the other throne must be intended for him, so he could 'take his place' among them. Them.
The whole room was filled with them, their red eyes gleaming, unblinking, their bodies like the statues along the walls. They didn't move and speak as humans would in a crowd, but formed loose groups, keeping their distance, as if they were all novice actors told to stay on a certain "x" on a stage. They all turned to study D as he entered the room from a small side door, hoping to escape notice. Realizing immediately that he was the center of attention, D straightened. No one moved or uttered a sound for several moments. A log cracked in the fireplace, sending up a shower of sparks.
"I told you he was handsome," Madame Ecclav remarked, breaking the silence at last. "Just like his father. A striking resemblance."
Quiet dialogue resumed, and several guests addressed D, whether they were standing near him or not: "We've been waiting a long time for this occasion. Congratulations." D, like the rest of them, could hear every word uttered in the room. He didn't like the fact that most of what he heard concerned him, in some way or other. He also didn't like the feeling that the evil creatures were projecting towards him- a feeling of acceptance and even encouragement. He wanted no acceptance from them.
Suddenly he heard, as they all heard, the king's voice in their heads. Come to the table, and we will begin the celebration. Wordlessly, the guests began to glide across the polished black stone of the floor, moving to their places at the table. D moved as they did. Anticipation resonated in the banquet hall like music, and everyone stood still and breathless- except for D, who stood still and tried to breathe as quietly and imperceptibly as possible.
The flames in the fireplace grew brighter and higher until they were pure white, but instead of heat, coldness rolled out into the room. The flames flickered green and grew darker, parting in the middle to reveal a shadowy figure that the flames had previously concealed. The figure stepped forward, and everyone sensed that the vampire king had arrived.
He was dressed like a king, in scarlet and black, complete with a flowing robe with dark, wet-looking rubies for a clasp. In his arms he held a small-looking body wrapped in white silk. D's heart began to pound. He remembered the men who had attacked him at the Belus's cottage- one of them had a pointy stake and a mallet to drive it with- he felt as if someone was driving that stake through him right now. Dracula looked at him significantly, and placed the body on the table. The guests caught the scent of it and there was a pleased murmur of approval. The king beckoned to his son, and D came forward, wishing he could run the other way.
"Aristocrats," Dracula began, holding out his hands. "Thank you for answering my summons. We have many important things to discuss this night. I am calling upon each of you to help me restore the power of our race. My recent weakness as a leader, as well as rampant vanity and greed within our ranks, has caused an infestation to spread around this world. The human infestation represents a great danger to us in its present form. However, if we work together, and employ our minds and not just our appetites, we can transform the threat into an unprecedented opportunity. I am calling upon each of you to take on the responsibility- and to swear an oath of loyalty, so that we may act as one in the crucial years ahead. But first, I want all of you to join with me in celebration as my only son joins us for the feast."
A voice like a rushed whisper spoke in D's head. The others can't hear this. You must do exactly as I say, it said, and D knew it was his father. D knew he was under the heavy influence of magic. Most likely, if he lost consciousness now his body would still comply with his father's instructions. He desperately wished he could lose consciousness, to be spared the obscenity of the 'feast' his father mentioned. It's not obscene and you will remain conscious, the whisper said angrily, and D knew his father was listening to his thoughts. He felt his father's cool, strong hand on his shoulder.
"My son is no longer a child." You will kill her, the whisper ordered.
No. No. No. D thought, but his thoughts seemed blurred, like speaking underwater.
"Tonight he will be reborn. Tonight he disowns the weaker half of his heritage, sheds his pretense of humanity, and gains his true form at last." When I pull back the veil, you will sink your teeth into her throat.
D clenched his teeth as if he could fuse them together. I won't. I won't!
Dracula shot a freezing glare at his son, and D felt a surge of dark energy rush towards him. The dark power slapped him across the face. It was a stinging blow- it would have sent a human flying across the room, and it would have made D stagger backwards if other magic hadn't been holding him firmly in place. His father had never struck him before. Like a child, D felt the instinct to reach up to his face and cry, but he repressed those feelings. The guests hadn't noticed the burst of violent energy. Unwillingly, D took the final step forward. He was standing beside the victim, his fingertips resting on the edge of the table, inches from the white silk veiling the body. You'll put your hands on her shoulders to hold her down. You will bite her carefully, deliberately, not like a mouse that's scared of its food and not like a ravenous dog gnashing at a carcass. His father was speaking some eloquent words about honor, power, and sacred rites, but D didn't hear them. He only heard his father's whisper inside his head. Stop resisting. This is for your own good. You'll understand once it's complete. You'll understand that this is how it has to be. There's no other way. You are what you are, my son. It was almost as if his father was pleading with him. The other vampires were all nodding their approval and gazing at him with vaguely hungry expressions.
I can't do it! D thought desperately.
Yes you can. When I pull back the veil, she'll awake from the trance. You must be firm, and quick- don't give her time to wake up enough to scream. You won't like the taste of her fear. Just put your hands on her shoulders and let instinct guide your lips to her throat. Almost like- a kiss. Then kill her. It will take only a few moments.
A kiss? D's mind reeled. He remembered waking up in the Belus's cottage as a boy. It was Tasia's birthday then. She wanted a kiss for a birthday present. He remembered how the glow of the dying fire had made her hair shine like gold. He remembered the happiness in her eyes and the sound of her laugh.
Suddenly there wasn't time to think anymore. His father pulled back the silken sheet and flung it into the fire. Beneath it, wearing a simple white dress with red flowers tied in her dark gold hair, was Tasia Belus Rowntree. Slowly she opened her eyes.