Chapter Ten

Stepping outside the church, Agatha took an unnecessary breath of fresh air and then exhaled it with a soft sigh. There had been no invisible barrier to prevent her from setting foot on sacred ground, nor had she been struck down for doing so; flipping through the Bible and sitting down in a pew to pray had also gone unacknowledged. It was reassuring to know that she had not been damned but the lack of a response, of any kind, had done little to salvage her dwindling faith. Her calling to God, to the church, had started so strongly; it had been akin to falling in love - albeit a love of the purest form - but the object of her affection had remained largely absent throughout and that love had slowly turned to discontent. She had not been unhappy at the convent; it had given her plenty during a time when people, especially women, generally had very little but it had never brought fulfilment. A fulfilment that was now within her reach and from the most unlikeliest of sources.

The sky above was now decorated with clouds, concealing the sun that had guided her inside, and rather than follow the path that led towards the main thoroughfare, she headed in the other direction. Strolling lazily along the path, her eyes glanced over the weathered headstones that stood on either side as she strained to hear anything above the birdsong emanating from the trees that lay beyond the boundary wall. As she neared the point where the pathway branched, to either return her to the church or take her out the rear exit, she finally heard it; an anguished groan from below that could only be a poor soul condemned to an un-death, their pain audible only to those suffering a similar affliction. Pausing, her eyes traced the name and year of death on the corresponding headstone, dismay bubbling at the length of time that had passed since burial.

Releasing the souls of the cursed had constituted most of her experience with the un-dead before she'd encountered Count Dracula, giving her a sense of purpose that her dwindling faith had made difficult to find within the church. It would do the same again during the eternity that awaited her. With a silent promise to return - the middle of the day wasn't the best time to exhume and desecrate a corpse - she turned on a heel, doubling back along the path, her certainty growing with every step. The thought of Dracula's reaction to an eternity spent digging up graves made her smile; he would tease her about wanting to save everyone, then grumble about dirtying his suit but would then start picking out shovels because he had promised to do just about anything for her. And she believed him.

As the path met the dozen or so steps that would lead Agatha outside the church grounds, Dracula appeared in the entryway, his tall stature previously hidden by the height of the walls on this side of the property. The sun chose that exact moment to escape from its captor, bathing the vampire in light and causing him to squint a little. "Agatha," he smiled. "For a moment there, I thought you were going to leave without me."

Her own smile widened as she navigated the steps and then paused at the bottom to truly appreciate the view in front of her. She had seen Dracula in various states of dress, from nothing but the innards of a wolf to full evening attire, but he never looked so appealing as when the sun shone down on him. The choice of a dark suit with a blood red shirt, the open neck showing off a glimpse of the hair that lay beneath and the length of his throat, leading to a freshly shaven jaw, completed the picture and she suspected he had been the centre of attention when he'd left her at the church an hour or so ago to wander into the small market town instead.

Taking a couple of steps towards him she noted that he was not moving, preferring instead to loiter outside the entrance, and she stopped dead, still firmly within the church grounds. When she had announced her intention to visit the church, Dracula had insisted on accompanying her - his possessiveness would annoy her more if he hadn't confessed to being afraid of losing her again - but had made no attempt to follow her inside. She had let that slide but now she was curious. "You could have easily followed me. It's just bricks and mortar. It won't hurt you."

Dracula grinned but ignored her prodding entirely. "Did you get what you needed?"

"I believe so," she replied, remaining on the other side of the boundary. Whilst it was true that she had not received the approval from above that she had been seeking, there had been no objections either. She was not desperate enough to believe that the sun was some sort of sign but it had thrown a spotlight on the very reason she had been looking for validation. It wasn't just the desire that pooled low in her belly when Dracula was close by that had brought her to the church, it was the way every cell in her body seemed to perk up at his presence. She had never felt so alive before and it wasn't because she was now like him; she had felt that way at the convent gates when she had still been a living, breathing mortal.

"Good."

That one word, and the way his gaze burned into hers even across the distance between them, made her insides swirl violently. There was no doubt in her mind that he knew she wanted him. She had made a good show of feigning indifference towards Dracula but that charade had disintegrated when Frank had arrived unexpectedly with news that had threatened to tear them apart. Impersonating her niece, lying to the authorities and risking her own freedom to secure his had driven home just how much she wanted him; for both of them. But there was no harm in being absolutely sure and making him wait just a little longer. "What about you? Have you managed to stay out of trouble?"

"Maybe," he grinned, throwing in a casual shrug of a shoulder. "There is one way to find out if I've been snacking on the local fair maidens and strapping young men whilst you've been talking to your God," he added on, licking his lips in a suggestive manner.

"Come here," she commanded in response, mostly to see if his desire for her was strong enough to overcome centuries of avoiding the church. She was proof enough that he had nothing to fear but his fears had never been rational and the way he frowned slightly at her demand seemed to suggest that there was something other than vampirism fuelling his dislike of religion. Whatever the reason, it was not enough to prevent Dracula from stepping cautiously over the threshold and once that line had been crossed, and nothing untoward had befallen him, he walked towards her with more confidence, quickly closing the gap between them to grin down at her in both triumph and expectation.

Agatha leaned slowly up towards him, keeping her eyes on his as she moved. When her eyes met his own she paused to grin at him before inhaling sharply through her nose and stepping back. If he'd been snacking on the local populace she might have had to call the whole thing off; or more likely, admit to herself that it wouldn't really matter. To her relief, the only trace of blood she could detect was the middle-aged school teacher with a penchant for witchcraft that they'd shared for breakfast. She didn't know where Frank found such a varying supply of donors who were willing to feed vampires nor was she sure that she wanted to; it was enough to know that they were not forced or infected or dead. And she appreciated the opportunity to expand her knowledge that they provided.

Learning to read stories in blood, to focus on specific memories or skills, had come in useful when she had pretended to be Zoe. Offering up an English accent had helped to convince the police that her niece was alive, if not-so-well, and simply making the most of the time that she had left with an old friend. The latter had been necessary as Dracula had made it clear that he was not letting her out of his sight so they had attended the appointment Frank had arranged together, somehow managing to avoid both the long arm of the law and the Harker Foundation's tentacles. It had necessitated the move from the little cottage she had come to love and set an overly-protective Frank on a mission to gather more information on the Foundation in the hopes of bringing down the behemoth that Mina Murray had created with the best of intentions.

"Good boy," Agatha smiled, unsurprised when Dracula returned the gesture.

"Good enough to deserve a reward?"

A slightly nervous burst of laughter escaped her lips in response. There was a hunger in his gaze that was more intense than she had ever seen and that included the moment before he'd bitten her for the first time but it was not too far from her own desire. Yet she felt more apprehensive about giving herself to him now than she had when she'd sacrificed her own life to save that of a terrified child. That had been a selfless act, perhaps tinged with a need to redeem herself for inviting carnage into so many lives, but this, giving all of herself to Dracula, was purely selfish.

She had tortured herself over this decision; not that she would be committing a sin but that she would be betraying her sisters and all of his victims by remaining with Dracula. But indulging her own desires would curb the worst of his and the number of lives that would save was worth the wrath she would have to eventually confront. "Maybe," she replied, nodding down at his hand. "What have you actually been up to all this time?"

"This?" Dracula raised the hand in question, wriggling it and the object within its grasp between them, "It's a gift for you."

The explanation surprised her, though he had technically bought her many gifts during the previous two weeks. They had mostly been clothes and she had chosen them herself; he had simply provided the means, both the money and the mobile phone. This was a complete unknown and she couldn't even begin to imagine what he had found amongst the mixture of small independent businesses and just as small outlets of national chains that, along with the pubs, populated the heart of the town. And she was touched by the gesture.

Whatever was in the brown paper bag, she doubted it would compare to the gift he had given her in his apartment: the sweet release from a painful death. That he had not perished did not detract from the fact that he had been prepared to and his intent that morning made her inordinately pleased that he had not succumbed to the cancerous blood because it meant he was here now, with her. Still, she was curious to learn what he had purchased.

Agatha reached out for the package in Dracula's hand but he retracted both quickly, moving his hand behind his back. "I think I'll make you wait a little longer. Think of it as punishment for luring me in here under false pretences," he grinned, wide enough to show teeth.

"Not entirely false," she disagreed, letting the hand that had reached for her gift rest on his shirt, just above where his heart lay. It had been fun teasing him thus far but he'd been on his best behaviour and she was only torturing herself by making them both wait. "I have something for you, too."

"A gift for me?" His eyes dropped from hers, travelling down Agatha's body as he leaned back a little, not enough to dislodge her hand from his chest though she showed no inclination of letting that happen, to further accommodate his scrutiny of her.

Her dress wasn't particularly revealing, nor was it tight against her body, but she felt almost naked under his gaze. His hunger for her blood, and her mind, had kept him from peeking when she had been unconscious on board the Demeter. Even in the dream that they had shared he had not taken advantage, covering her torso with his cloak; she could remember quite vividly how the velvet lining had felt against her skin, just as she could clearly recall how he had felt inside and around her body. But that veneer of the gentleman that had also kept him respectful of her privacy whilst they'd been sharing accommodation was starting to crack.

"And so beautifully wrapped," Dracula smiled, his eyes back on hers.

Swallowing thickly, Agatha was unable to verbally respond. She wanted him, and he wanted her, but she was no seductress. Most of her knowledge about sexual intimacy was theoretical aside from some teenage kisses that had failed to dissuade her from her calling to the church and were now long since faded. Yet she would have to make the first move; Dracula would flirt, sometimes outrageously, but he never pushed her further than that or tried to take what he wanted. It was strange, given how inconsiderately he'd taken the lives of others.

With the same shaky confidence that had seen her unlock the convent gates when she hadn't been entirely sure of the rule that would prevent Dracula from entering the courtyard, Agatha slowly leaned up into him. He did not reach for her in response but his head dipped slightly, making it easier for her to press her mouth against his. The brief contact made her lips tingle delightfully; the way Dracula reclaimed her mouth, his kiss more fervent than her own, made other parts of her body tremble and her eyes to flutter shut.

Dracula's free hand came to rest on the small of her back as he gently ended the kiss and for a long moment he enjoyed the sight of Agatha leaning into him with her eyes closed and pleasure spread across her face. "It's been a long time since anybody has kissed me, Agatha," he admitted when her eyes finally opened.

The confession made her ache for him in an entirely different way but that was a conversation for another time and place. Their location was not particularly suitable for this conversation, either. "It's been a long time for me, too. Let's go back to the house and we can practise some more. Then you can unwrap your gift."

A flicker of surprise crossed Dracula's features before he quickly recovered. "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist me for very long," he grinned at her.

"It's been two weeks and three hours since you claimed to only require a fortnight," she hit back, resisting the urge to do the same with her hand. Suspecting that the bravado was an attempt to cover up the vulnerability he had just revealed, she patted her hand on his chest a few times instead. "I believe that means I win," she stated, matching his grin.

Dracula chuckled softly, a fond smile replacing his grin. "It's two weeks tomorrow, Agatha; the first day is not included. That means I win."

"If that's what you believe then I should make you wait until tomorrow," she smiled at him, almost every inch of her body screaming at her in dissension; the small of her back, still firmly under Dracula's hold, and the palm of her hand, still attached to his chest, were not complaining at all. Waiting would not impact her victory despite his wonky reasoning - she would still win their 'game'.

"I have waited hundreds of years for you, Agatha," Dracula replied, his voice low and filled with a longing that was at odds with the sentence that followed. "What's one more day?"

Given that he'd lived for centuries without sunlight through sheer will power alone she did not doubt that he was capable of waiting another twenty-four hours. But she could not. Maybe it didn't matter who claimed this victory; there would be other games to win, of that she was sure. She let her hand slowly wander down to his stomach, "By your own reasoning, one more day would mean that you lose."

Confronted with that logic, his mouth on hers was Dracula's only response.