Chapter Seven
Eyes closed, Agatha tilted her face toward the sun and let the rays caress her skin. There was an accompanying breeze that failed to disturb her still untamed hair but she could not seem to find the same kind of serenity the day was offering. Drinking Dracula's blood had, as he'd promised, allowed her to learn the truth - and as if she had been there herself, watching him walk into the sunlight for the first time in centuries. The memories, and the associated thoughts and feelings, of the time the other 'her' had spent lurking in their descendant's body now felt entirely her own. Which, she supposed, technically they were. Whilst she was struggling with the emotional fallout, she was grateful for the crash course on twenty-first century life.
Her recently acquired heightened sense of hearing picked up the opening of a door in the distance behind her and she slowly opened her eyes, keeping her gaze fixed on the horizon where the fields seemed to disappear over the edge of the world. Without looking, she knew that it was Dracula and was both relieved and apprehensive about what was to come. She silently tracked his movements, long strides making their way through the grass that extended out from the rear of the house, and tried to compose herself.
"You didn't try to drive a stake through my heart," Dracula said a moment later, having made quick work of closing the space between them. Unperturbed by her lack of response, he sat down on the grass beside her, mirroring her stance by resting his arms on his knees. "I'm touched," he casually added on, as if he had just woken from a night's sleep rather than a blood loss induced state of unconsciousness for which she was responsible.
"Don't be. It just seemed... " She kept her gaze fixed ahead as she struggled for an acceptable explanation before settling upon, "Unsporting." When she had thought that Dracula had lied to her, that he had manipulated her into exchanging one prison for another, the image of a driving a stake through his lying and deceitful heart had crossed her mind. One of the reasons that she had succumbed to the temptation of drinking his blood was that she had been largely unconcerned about his welfare.
Her intention had always been to stop Count Dracula from killing, and from passing on his foul contagion, by any means necessary. Her curiosity about everything dark and evil had compelled her to study him first, to try and understand him, but her ultimate goal had always been to prevent him creating more carnage. What she had not foreseen was how learning the truth about Dracula would impact her desire to destroy him. Though she was not going to admit that out loud to him.
There was a smile on his face that could be clearly heard in his voice, and his words were almost as warm, as he turned his head towards her, "Yes, you did have me at somewhat of a disadvantage. But I'm taking this missed opportunity of yours to mean that drinking my blood worked."
Agatha finally turned her gaze towards Dracula, surprised by the sight that greeted her. He appeared wearier than their interaction thus far had suggested and she had never seen him look as unkempt as he did now, though she was hardly one to talk in that respect. He must have crawled straight out of bed to come looking for her. Yet his eyes, several shades lighter under the sun's influence, were as sharp as ever and focussed entirely upon her own. And she knew exactly what he was expecting to find there. "I was able to learn some things," she agreed, staying away from the very last moments of her - second - death.
"Enough to make you stay," he smiled at her.
"That was your plan, I think."
Dracula shrugged the shoulder that was nearest to her, his smile widening. "I was going to just tell you what happened but you do have a habit of ruining all my plans and I was forced to improvise. Again. But it was fun experimenting with you, Agatha; imagine all the other things we could enjoy together."
"We didn't die together," she threw carelessly back at him, annoyed by his constant flippancy. It was only once the words had left her mouth, and his grin softened into a knowing smile, that she realised just how much she had revealed to him.
Rather than making a lewd comment about the things they had done in the dream world he'd created for them, he tried to explain his intentions, "I meant every word I said, Agatha. I believed I would die; I wanted to die with you. I thought that the blood of the dying was deadly to vampires; you believed as much yourself."
Agatha nodded slowly but couldn't quite bring herself to admit that he was right. She had believed that cancerous blood would harm Dracula; it had made his decision that morning to ease her suffering all the more powerful. And she knew that he had not fully understood the rules of the beast, either. That had been very clear when she had torn his rule book to pieces in front of him. She had only thrown his survival back in his face because she wanted a reason to push him away; her sense of unease was not because of his actions but her own reaction to them. To him.
"However, it did leave me unconscious so I think we should file it under 'things to avoid' rather than 'ways to destroy a vampire'," Dracula offered, his tone as light hearted as it had been moments before.
"Perhaps we should place it next to exsanguination," she replied, relieved to be steering the conversation away from the dream even if it was into territory that suggested their next move would be made together. Which it probably would. She might not have it in her to kill him but she couldn't leave him unattended. At least, that's what she was choosing to believe.
He smiled at her in response and it made her insides feel weak. But he wasn't going to let her off quite so easily as she'd hoped. "That was not nearly as unpleasant, though I fear that I slept through the most enjoyable parts. Frank told me what you did."
Agatha had the distinct feeling that Frank had told Dracula every single thing that had occurred whilst the Count had been unconscious and she dropped her gaze to her knees, smoothing her hands down her habit. When Frank had slammed on the brakes of the car she had stopped feeding from Dracula, his arm dropping like a dead weight when she had relinquished her hold on him. Turning in his seat, Frank had looked as horrified as she'd felt at the sight of an even more lifeless than usual Dracula. But it was what had happened afterwards to which she suspected Dracula was referring.
It had been the lawyer who had first leapt into action, retrieving a bag of blood from the boot of the car but it had been Agatha who had spent the next few hours of the journey trying to coax as much as she could from the plastic pouches into Dracula's mouth, his head resting in her lap the entire time. And it had been her who, upon arriving at their destination, had carried Dracula inside the holiday cottage that had something to do with Frank's firm. The strength of a vampire had allowed her to scoop up what was essentially a six-foot-four dead body with surprising ease. The finer details of that action hadn't registered with her until now but they obviously had with a bride-obsessed Dracula.
"Frank's very protective of you. Subservient too," she said, finally turning her head to the side and staring coolly at him, trying to ignore the almost adoring way he was looking at her. "I'm sure he'd love to be your bride."
"No. Goodness, no," Dracula chuckled in response. "That would be no fun at all. Can you believe that he wanted to use some boring legal tactic to get you out of the Harker Foundation? More practical, perhaps but nowhere near as entertaining. Besides, Frank would never even try to stop me from doing whatever I wanted. But you would. Even if it meant becoming my bride. And to be absolutely clear about this, Agatha: if you were mine, I'd do almost anything for you."
For a moment, Agatha was speechless. She had assumed that his intention in revealing his shameful secrets had been to recapture her compassion for him, to get her to stay with him, but he was offering to sate her desire, too; this was what he'd meant when he'd said that understanding him would allow her to stop him. It was a masterstroke, really. They would both get what they wanted. "Would you stop killing people?"
"I couldn't promise you that, Agatha. If your life was at risk, or my own was in danger, I would do whatever was necessary," Dracula replied quickly, having anticipated her response. "But I could promise to try not to kill anyone. For you."
She had seen first hand that there were now other alternatives to sourcing blood than simply biting necks; she had even sampled some of the provisions that Frank had given her, wiping up a few stray drops from Dracula's lips with a thumb to taste for herself. This knowledge had taken most of the sting out of becoming a vampire and was certainly preferable to wasting away to bones and dust, never being able to find peace. But that was her; Dracula, whether a warlord or vampire, was a ruthless killer. "You could do anything you wanted in this world. Why would you agree to do that?"
"You know why."
Agatha wasn't entirely certain that she did. If he had simply wanted to ease her suffering then he could have simply snapped her neck, as he had with Jonathan Harker, but it was difficult to accept the obvious truth behind Dracula's decision to sacrifice himself for her. She had always thought him incapable of loving anyone with the exception of himself. And she was not sure why he would love her. She was stubborn and opinionated, she defied him at every turn and had tried to kill him several times. Yet his actions, and his admission just a few moments earlier, seemed to suggest otherwise. She was unable to keep the uncertainty out of her voice as she whispered, "You love me?"
"Yes," he said without hesitation and then followed it up with another smile that made her insides flutter. "Agatha Van Helsing, you are the most delightfully exquisite creature I have ever met and I am going to spend the rest of eternity convincing you of that."
"A bold claim given that I haven't agreed to spend eternity with you," she forced out as heat began to settle on her cheeks. He loved her; it was ridiculous but possibly no more so than a nun falling in love with a devil. And she was falling in love with him. She knew that she should hate him; he had killed her sisters and made her into a vampire but she could only find it in her to abhor the things that he had done and not the man himself.
"I'm not unreasonable. What will you agree to, Agatha?"
She bristled, just a little, at his assumption that she would agree to anything but she could admit that it was not unfounded. Against all good sense, and with little faith, she had given him back the sunlight; at its heart, that had certainly been an act of love. Still, it was best not to give him too much, too soon; she wanted a little more time to digest everything and to ascertain just how good he was at abstaining from biting people. "To let you try to convince me that everything you've said is possible."
Dracula moved one hand between them, leaning his body towards her. "That'll only take a week; two at the most," he stated, his gaze dropping down to her mouth for a moment before resettling on her eyes. He smiled at her again as he whispered, "Whatever will we do with the rest of eternity?"
"You're overly confident," she hit back, refusing to lean away from him which was potentially very dangerous because she had the strongest urge to kiss him.
"It has been said that I am very persuasive," he said, his voice low and his words making it clear that he was not talking about refraining from killing mortals. "However, I'm more confident in your inability to resist me for any longer than that."
Despite his ongoing arrogance, a smile formed on her lips and a sense of calmness settled upon her for the first time that morning. There was a game afoot once more and whilst their previous encounter could be best described as a stalemate, she was determined to win this time.
"We shall see."