Chapter 13: Truth

York, England 1926

It was a replay of the scene from just before Christmas, when Samantha had crept downstairs to stare at D in front of the fire. Only now it was May, so there was no need for a fire, and D made no effort to appear asleep as she descended the stairs towards him. She was more beautiful than ever. D noticed that she was wearing a new dress. It was sleeveless and slack across her torso, and the waist belted low across her hips in the typical fashion of the past few years. The hem, he noticed, fell only to just below her knees, revealing her slender, graceful calves. The garment shimmered as she walked, obviously made of silk. The entire dress was a bright cranberry color, against which her white skin contrasted exquisitely.

It occurred to him that women these days wore practically a fourth of the amount of fabric as they had a hundred years previously. He was curious to see if perhaps in another hundred years they'd go about naked. Then he remembered where Samantha would be in a hundred years, and his expression darkened.

Samantha was at the bottom of the stairs now, and she noticed his sulking frown. She hurried towards him. "D, what's the matter? Whatever are you thinking of? Why won't you look at me?"

Reluctantly he turned his gaze to her face. She smiled at this small victory, but was slightly disconcerted by the unfathomable sadness in his eyes. Blinking, refusing to be dissuaded, she said cheerfully, "How do you like my new dress?" She twirled around once. The loose, shimmering skirt floated up a few inches as she did so, revealing a little of her slim white thigh.

"Quite fashionable," D commented. "Will you cut your hair short as well?"

For unimaginable reasons, nearly all the women under thirty these days had incredibly short haircuts, which made their heads look oddly spherical atop their willowy bodies. Samantha laughed.

"I know I ought to," she said, studying one of her shoes coyly. "But somehow I can't bring myself to do it." She peered up at D, a bit of a blush on her cheeks. "Do you think it looks all right?"

"Yes," D said. Then he faltered. "You're beautiful," he added softly. Samantha was delighted. Her eyes shone.

"Stand up!" she ordered, and D complied. She stepped in close, and then took his right arm and wrapped it around her, placing his hand against the small of her back. Then she placed her left hand on his shoulder, and intertwined the fingers of her right hand with those of his left. "D," she said, looking up into his eyes, noticing that there was almost a bit of color in his usually ashen face. "…do you know how to dance?"

"No," D admitted.

"Well then, would you like to learn?" Her voice curled around him like smoke. Mesmerized by her twinkling eyes, D felt vaguely intoxicated. Her fingers kneaded his shoulder slightly. Then it dawned on him that the girl was playing with him. Why else the suggestive dress, the teasing voice? Inexplicably depressed by the realization, he dropped his hands.

"Not really," he muttered, looking away again.

The girl pouted. This was not working out nearly as romantically as she had hoped. "Please, D. Tell me what's wrong."

D turned away, staring into the dark fireplace. She thought she heard him sigh.

"Be honest with me," she pleaded.

"Very well," D said reluctantly. "Your feelings for me are what's wrong. I'm not somebody you should love."

Samantha was stunned. Unconsciously she raised her hand to her mouth, staring at D in disbelief. She shook her head from side to side. "Who are you, to tell me who I should or shouldn't love?" she demanded. Then she shook her head again. "No- it doesn't matter who you are. I don't care how old you are- I don't care if your father's a murderer, or that you won't tell me anything about yourself… I don't care about any of it, D, I love you, and I want you…" she caught herself. D was still staring at the fireplace as if he were considering crawling up the chimney to escape her. A horrible new thought appeared in her mind, and her brandy-brown eyes filled with tears.

"But maybe… maybe you don't feel the same way about me," she whispered, folding her arms across her chest in shame. Why, oh why on earth had she picked a red dress? The color that had seemed so elegantly romantic moments ago now seemed lewd and crass. "Maybe you don't want me… because… is it because of Paris?"

D spun towards her, appalled that she would even think such a thing. "Of course not," he said, moving towards her. Fate and future be damned- at the moment she needed him, and he couldn't turn his back. She fell into his arms in relief, and he held her as if she were the most precious thing on earth. "Samantha," he said softly. Her eyes opened wide, tears forgotten. It was the first time he had ever addressed her by name. Something dark fluttered in D's heart, as if warning him that he was making a mistake. She looked up, and he knew she meant to kiss him. He wanted her to kiss him. Fate and future be damned! He wanted to comfort this beautiful, beautiful girl. He wanted to hold her, to feel the cadence of her heart. He wanted her. He closed his eyes.

As she kissed him she was swept by delirious excitement. What was it about him that thrilled her so? It was something intangible… an aura… she was just barely conscious of it. It compelled her to desire him, to be enchanted by him… yet also… to fear him.

Disoriented, she pulled away. D blinked at her, noticing the confusion on her face. Abruptly she shook the expression away, and leaned her head against his chest, seeming exhausted. She rested there for a moment. Finally, with great effort, she pushed herself away from him, and took several steps backward. She looked at him with glassy eyes, her face flushed. "I love you," she said, and then turned and practically stumbled out of the room.

"Wuagh huagh huagh," D's hand cackled evilly as soon as she was gone. "Well aren't you the romantic one! That was marvelous. I guess I should have expected nothing less from the spitting image of-"

"Shut up," D said.

"But what on earth did you do to her to scare her off like that?"

"I didn't do anything," D protested.

"Heh heh," sniggered the demon. "But you better watch out. She's not going to leave you alone after this- she'll be stalking you like a lioness, no doubt- but it's important not to move too fast-"

"I should just let you talk to her, that should cool her down," D remarked dryly.

"This is serious! You have to be careful! Sure, you've been the model of self control thus far, but what if-"

"Stay out of it," D said, annoyed.

Back in her room, Samantha's heart was still racing. She couldn't tell if he reciprocated her feelings for him, but against her better judgment she decided that it didn't matter. She stared at her face in the mirror on the wall above her dresser. "I want you to love me, D," she muttered huskily, "but even more than that…" her voice trailed into a whisper. She knew it was wrong to feel this way, but she couldn't help it.

She would have him.

"Tell me again," D's hand said raucously a few days later. "Which one of you is supposed to be part vampire? I'm confused. Have you seen the look in her eye lately?"

"Yes," D admitted, his voice troubled. Whenever she looked his way, her expression was one of wistful hunger. He thought he'd even seen her lick her lips once- but he hoped he had imagined it. Sitting wearily on his bed, he reached down to take his boots off.

"If I was you, I'd start sleeping with a crucifix in one hand and a stake in the other. I tell you, man, she's creeping me out. She's going to pounce on you any minute now."

"Hush," D said. Someone was out in the hall, moving towards his door.

"It's her, isn't it!" the hand whispered frantically. D couldn't tell if the demon sounded afraid or just half-crazed with excitement.

"Go away!" D hissed, and the demon's face instantly vanished. D sighed. She was probably coming to tell him once again that she loved him, and to try and make him say that he loved her in return. What would he say to her? Should he tell her the truth? Could he tell her?

"D? Are you asleep?" her voice was light and sweet.

"No." He hesitated. "Come in," he said at last. She opened the door and slipped inside. She was wearing a silky sleeveless robe, meant to be worn over a nightgown and tied loosely in front. Only she wasn't wearing a nightgown, and already she was untying the sash. D gaped at her. Was she crazy? He couldn't believe she would resort to seducing him so blatantly.

"I want to know something," she said demurely. "I've been wondering for months now what it might be like to be loved instead of used," she said. She smiled ruefully.

"oh," D managed to say, his mouth feeling oddly dry.

"Please," she whispered, staring into his eyes. She was moving towards him gracefully, reaching for him… now touching his shoulders lightly. "I need you," she breathed, her eyelashes fluttering. Leaning into him, she rested her chin on his shoulder. Involuntarily he breathed in her scent. He'd always been aware of it, but somehow it seemed so much sweeter and richer than before. D was becoming uncomfortable at an exponential rate.

"I can't be complete without you…" she murmured.

"Nm," he grunted, swallowing. Something was wrong with his mouth. Such a strange feeling-- he winced. He could feel her breath on his skin. He could make her his, she wanted to be his.

He started to say something, but then he realized just how intimately close his mouth was to her neck, and he snapped his mouth shut on his unspoken words- and in the process, he accidentally did something he'd never done before- he bit his tongue. Bit through it.

And he tasted blood.

Before she knew what was happening, D was on the other side of the room, leaning into the wall as if he meant to push it down. His hands, against the wall on either side of his head, clenched into fists. She watched, fascinated, as his shoulders shook.

"No," she heard him say.

"You don't want me?" she asked tremulously.

"I do want you." D growled, and turned around. She gasped. She'd never seen such an enraged expression- and his eyes were glowing scarlet.

"What are you?" she cried. She scrambled backwards, overcome by terror.

"Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you," D said. Already the red light was receding from his eyes; his face resuming its usual calm expression. In another moment he was himself again.

Samantha was shaking, her breath coming in short gasps. D pitied her. He sighed. "Child," he said, his voice once again soft and even. "Come here."

As if in a trance, she obeyed. Gently, he picked her up and walked over to the window. She felt as light as paper in his arms. There was a perfect half-moon low in the night sky and D smiled grimly at its poetic propriety- one half of it in the light of the sun, the other in the shadow of the earth.

"There's no point in hiding the truth from you any longer," he said, looking out at the moon regretfully.

"Put me down," she said suddenly, interrupting his story. D complied, setting her lightly on her feet. Wrapping her robe around herself, she backed away from him slowly. D stood silently, unsure of how to respond. "How dare you," she hissed. "After what I have seen of the world and human cruelty… you dare to tell me fantasy stories like this?"

"I'm telling you the truth," D said gruffly. She shook her head in disbelief.

"You're mad. Or shell-shocked, from the war or something… you can't really believe that you're…" her expression stiffened in anger. Overcome by her emotions, she couldn't finish her thought.

"It's true. I was born in 1764," D said evenly.

"Oh STOP it," Samantha cried, distressed. She brought her hands up to face. "That's nonsense, D! Why are you doing this to me? What's wrong with you?"

"I already told you," D muttered. Samantha took another step backwards and leaned against the wall, shaking her head back and forth.

"I don't believe you," she declared, and then her voice trailed into a whisper. "I don't believe in… in vampires."

D didn't say anything.

"The last thing my mother ever said to me," Samantha said in a slightly louder voice. "Was that there aren't any such things as vampires. It's quite a comforting thought, isn't it… that the thing we fear doesn't even exist… it makes one feel so bold and brave."

Wordlessly, D turned his back to her. She hadn't been listening to him. She didn't want to hear the truth after all. It was too absurd, too insane, too tragic. He had been wrong to tell her.

"How dare you say they are real," she was saying. "My mother's last words to me… how dare you ruin them!" she shook her head again. Her world was being torn apart once again. First there had been the loss of her parents… then her grandmother's death, and then she had woken up one day robbed and raped; her romantic, exciting dream-world destroyed overnight as a result of her own stupidity. She had wanted to die. And now, just as soon as she thought she'd found something to hold her together…

She shut her eyes tightly so she wouldn't have to look at him. "How horrible of you," she said. "My heart… is entirely at your mercy, and you respond with this… joke…you mock my love; you don't know how you make me suffer!"

D looked at her over his shoulder and noticed tears on her face again. All too often, it seemed, he was the cause of her tears, and it weighed on him. "You're a fool for wanting to love someone who only makes you cry," D said quietly, and realized immediately that it had been the wrong thing to say. He hadn't meant to be cruel or snide about it- it was only the truth- but instantly she was furious.

Samantha stared at him, her face livid.

It occurred to him that maybe he should apologize… but for some reason the words wouldn't come.

"So that's what you think of me," she said in a low voice. "Perhaps you really are a monster after all. But I want to know for sure. Show me again."

"What?" D asked, alarmed.

"I thought I saw your eyes turn red a moment ago," Samantha said, her words measured. Resolutely she shoved herself away from the wall, taking a step towards him. Her heart began to pound, and D winced at its intensity. The whole room seemed to full of her heartbeat. "I must have imagined it," she said, sweetly sarcastic.

D began to feel vaguely sick. He recalled the poison gas at Ypres. He felt like he was suffocating from her presence now. She drew closer.

"But if what you say is true, then, prove it to me," she said. "Let me see your eyes burn once more."

D had firmly quelled the storm in his soul, but somehow the girl was summoning it to return, and this time it threatened to surge beyond his control.

Whether consciously or unconsciously, D wasn't sure, but he felt his senses shifting once again. He became acutely aware of her pulse, her scent… he could feel himself drawn to her, a predator drawn to its prey. It would be the easiest thing in the world to stop resisting, and complete the transformation. It would be the easiest, most natural thing in the world…

Samantha couldn't tear her gaze away from what she was seeing. It terrified and amazed her. It was as if his eyes had been scarlet all along, but only showed their true color now that they were illuminated from within. The trance-like enchantment she had felt when she kissed him swept over her again, only it seemed three times as powerful as before. She stared at him imploringly, bound by fascination, frozen in anticipation. What if his outrageous claims were true? What did it matter? Breathlessly she leaned towards him.

He was tempted to take her and drown all his passions in her. D felt a stinging twinge in his left hand. It irked him that the parasitic demon had the audacity to scold him so. Suddenly he felt confident that he knew what he was doing; he wasn't a mindless animal. With deliberate grace he touched her shoulders. His eyes closed partially, and he almost smiled. …Yes, this was just right. He didn't want to kill her; he was only a little bit

thirsty…

As soon as the thought entered his mind, an explosion of light threw him and the girl to opposite sides of the room. Samantha's skull crashed into the framed mirror that hung on the wall and she slumped to the floor, unconscious, as the shattered glass rained down around her. The glass gave her several shallow cuts, and the keen smell of blood flooded the room.

D hit the other side of the room with enough force to crack his ribs and leave a slight concave impression in the wall. Dust rained down from the ceiling. Gnashing his teeth, he instantly spun around and was on his feet. He pressed his hand angrily against his broken ribs and grunted painfully as they began to heal. What had happened? The light had been the most intense sunlight D had ever felt. His entire body had felt instantly scorched. Wildly he searched the room. His scarlet eyes rested on Samantha. A small mark as bright as the sun burned white-hot on her forehead. D squinted at it, angered because it hurt his eyes. Then his eyes widened in shock as he realized what it was: a cross. And written within the glowing cross, in an ancient script that no human could decipher, was a very precise message: don't touch.

Then D remembered what Brassai, the young Parisian vampire, had said when D found him in the room with Samantha: it's so intriguing that none of us can touch her, though she's fair game for her own kind. And he remembered his father's letter to Richard Rowntree: I have sworn to protect your family…none of you will ever suffer the same fate as your beloved wife…

The scarlet light fled from his eyes as he realized what he'd almost done, and in that instant the glowing cross vanished. If his father could see him now, the old king would certainly have a good laugh. The protective charm that Dracula had put on the girl had stopped D, of all creatures, from drinking her blood.

Trenchant shame ripped through his heart and D covered his face with his hands as if to block out some horrible vision. He had nearly ended his own existence. After a while he looked up at Samantha. The few cuts from the glass were minor, but to D it seemed as if a river of blood was flowing before him. The aroma was overwhelming. Panicking, D knew he had to leave. He was too weak. If he stayed he would become thirsty again and throw himself against the charm like a moth throwing itself at a flame. D realized in a rush of vertigo that he never wanted to see Samantha again. D grabbed his coat and hat from where they hung on a chair, fled from the house to the stables and threw his saddle on his horse. Within moments he had disappeared down the road at a gallop.

Behind him, the half-moon sank below the horizon.

A/N: wow, that was actually fun to write! (but I do feel sorry for D. Unfortunately, women are always falling in love with him. Tragic!) The cross as a protective charm thing comes from the books… eventually D learns how to do it. Regular vampires see it all the time, because they have evil intentions all the time, but it's usually invisible to D. If anyone's reading this, I have to say, congratulations- you've made it through the 'boring' middle part of the story! My favorite part (that I'm actually proud of writing), is coming up soon. Thanks for reading!