Disclaimer: I do not own the movies or the characters that you recognize. I am making no money off of this story.

Chapter Eight:

The Nightmare Gets Worse

Once asleep, Elizabeth began to dream. However, instead of seeing the tiny farmhouse or the surrounding cornfields, Elizabeth found herself standing in the lounge she and the others had chosen to sleep in, except now everything was in it proper place and she stood alone. Thunder rumbled loudly, causing the glass chandelier above her to shake.

It was pitch black outside. The rain was coming down in torrents, relentlessly pouring down the windows. The inside of the house was cold, and there were no candles in the lounge. Light came in from the hallway, but it was very dim.

Suddenly, Elizabeth heard gleeful laughter coming from somewhere down the hall, the happy sound contradicting the darkness and the anxiety she was feeling. She wanted to investigate the sound, but wasn't sure if she should. It came to her again, practically calling her to follow it. Sticking her head out of the doorway, she saw that the end of the hallway was much brighter.

The laughing seemed to be coming from a room at the end of the hallway. Elizabeth hesitated on the threshold of the lounge room, but her curiosity got the best of her. She wanted to know who was laughing; there seemed to be two voices. Stepping out into the hall, she strolled down the bare corridor, passing many closed-off rooms until she got to the last door, which was open.

The room was brightly lit with candles and a healthy fire glowed in the fireplace, giving Elizabeth a clear view of the room. The walls were painted a warm butterscotch yellow, the drapes were a light shade of blue that reminded her of the sky on a clear day, and the furniture was solid white oak. Numerous drawings and paintings done by a child's hand covered the walls. Dolls and various other toys littered the ground. Elizabeth had just walked into her childhood playroom, but she hardly paid attention to the memories swarming around her.

She could only focus on the two people in the room.

A little four-year-old girl with a heedful of unruly curls and dressed in a pastel pink dressing gown was snuggled up against a beautiful woman who was dressed in a similar fashion, her silky strawberry-blonde hair held back by a white ribbon. The pair was sitting on a couch made for two, the mother reading from a storybook.

Elizabeth could feel the tears gathering in her eyes as she looked upon her mother and a younger version of herself. Hardly any memories remained concerning her mother, and she could never be sure if the memories she did have actually happened or if she had made them up to fill the hole in her heart. Her mother had been taken from her far too early.

As a child she had cried and said it was unfair. For a while, she had even been angry at her mother for leaving her. However, as she grew up, Elizabeth realized it hadn't been her mother's fault; that she hadn't planned on dying when she did.

She had also learned just how unfair life really was. Currently she had no living relatives, hardly any reliable friends, and she only got to see Will once every ten years. Not to mention someone was after her and her son for no knowledgeable reason. No, life was never fair, but Elizabeth had learned to cope.

"Mummy," the little Elizabeth said, interrupting the story. "Tell me the story about the locket again. Please?"

Her mother chuckled as she closed the storybook. She tenderly picked up the heart-shaped locket around her daughter's neck.

Across the room, the grown Elizabeth's fingers reached up to play with the locket as well. She hardly went anywhere without it. Back when she had first received it as a gift from her mother, a portrait of her each of her parents had been inside. Unfortunately, her father's portrait had been lost over time. Fearing to lose her mother's portrait as well, she had removed it and placed it in a memory box in her home. Now the locket contained drawings of Will and Thomas.

"You're father gave me this locket in place of a ring when he asked me to marry him," her mother told the child. "He couldn't afford the band he wanted to buy me, but he didn't want to wait to ask me to marry him."

"Because you had other suitors," her daughter supplied.

"Yes. Many," the older woman stated, smiling. "Your father was very lucky I was in love with him. My father wanted me to steer clear of him, but he eventually accepted my decision."

"Why didn't your papa like daddy?" little Elizabeth asked.

"Well, he didn't have much money when we first met, and he wasn't a governor like he is now. And when he gave me the locket instead of a ring, my father was furious."

"What did he do?"

"You know what he did. He picked your daddy up by the back of his jacket and tossed him out of the house."

This statement sent the little girl into a fit of giggles, her mother laughing along with her. The dreaming Elizabeth had moved next to the fireplace and was smiling, remembering the story she had often requested to hear.

Hurried footsteps could be heard in the hall. Perhaps her father was coming up to join the rest of his family. All eyes turned to the doorway.

Nothing could have prepared Elizabeth for seeing the person who was standing there.

The shock that Elizabeth felt could be heard in her mother's frightened gasp. The two happy people jumped to their feet, all traces of mirth gone. Her mother looked scared, while the smaller version of herself looked confused.

"Mummy, who is that?" she heard herself ask.

Elizabeth had seen him before on multiple occasions. It was the young man from all of her other nightmares that was standing in front of them, drenched from running in the pouring rain. If the boy was here, where was her father? Had the young man managed to get away from her father and the mob at the farmhouse? Why was he here?

Elizabeth's mother pushed her daughter behind her, putting herself between her and the dark young man.

"What are you doing here Eric?" she asked, making Elizabeth realize that her mother knew the boy.

Eric was breathing heavily from running. "Getting justice," he said in a low voice, drawing a dagger from his belt and quickly advancing on her mother.

"Run Elizabeth!" she yelled at her daughter. The young girl fled from behind her mother, but only made it to the doorway before stopping and looking back. Eric had completely ignored her, going after her mother instead. The slender woman had grabbed the young man's hands and was trying to fight him off.

"Eric, please don't do this!" she pleaded, struggling to keep the dagger from piercing her heart.

He ignored her cries for reason.

Little Elizabeth tried to be brave and ran toward the man trying to hurt her mother. She latched herself onto his bare leg and sunk her tiny teeth into it. Eric cursed loudly, finding the child's action annoying rather than painful. Never ceasing his attack on her mother, Eric kicked the child off of him violently. Her small body flew a few feet in the air before landing by the fireplace. The dreaming Elizabeth looked down at her unconscious miniature feeling as helpless as her child form was.

I don't even remember being knocked out, Elizabeth thought. No wonder I don't recall how my mother died. I never saw it. Her eyes turned from the non-moving child sprawled on the floor back to the two people fighting.

"Elizabeth!" her mother cried out, afraid for her child.

It was obvious that her strength was giving out rapidly. The dagger inched closer and closer to her chest. With one last grunt of exertion, her mother quickly brought her knee up, striking Eric in the groin. The young man's hands immediately dropped to the injured area as he shouted in anger and agony.

Elizabeth's mother pushed past him and rushed over to her unconscious daughter. Just before she could scoop her daughter up though, Eric's blade embedded itself in her shoulder, narrowly missing the woman's heart. She screamed as the dagger was removed and she staggered backward, knocking over an end table and plant as she retreated toward the balcony doors. Blood poured from her would, staining the light fabric of her dress.

Eric stalked her until all of her possible escape routes were cut off. The bloody dagger was still in his hand, poised and ready to deliver the final blow.

"Why?" Elizabeth's mother panted, tears falling from the corners of her eyes.

"Because your husband is a conniving, lying bastard who murdered my parents so no one would ever know the truth," he replied, continuing to move forward.

Elizabeth was completely confused by the man's words, but her mother seemed to accept his response. Still, she wasn't about to give up the fight.

She lunged forward and tried to push Eric out of her way, but he was too strong for her. He threw her down to the floor and drove the dagger deep into her mother's belly.

"No!" Elizabeth shouted, her knees failing her. She grabbed onto the fireplace mantle to keep herself upright as the nightmare continued.

Her mother's eyes went momentarily wide with terror and pain before becoming blank as death took over her body. Eric straddled her, his hand still clamped on his weapon, until he felt her last breath leave her body. Within moments, a small pool of blood had formed on the floor beneath her.

"Mother!" Elizabeth gasped, her voice no louder than a whisper. She slowly slid down the wall, joining her child-form on the floor near the fireplace. A tidal wave of emotions swept over her, engulfing her to the point where she couldn't breathe.

By this point, her nightmare should have ended. Elizabeth was thoroughly distraught and shaken. She had also discovered that her mother had been murdered in front of her by a vengeful farm boy.

But the nightmare continued.

On the other side of the room, Eric bent over and removed the lethal dagger from her mother's lifeless body. He wiped the blood on the hem of her nightdress and returned the dagger to his belt.

Then he turned, chuckling evilly, and stared directly at Elizabeth, as if he knew she was there. As if he could see her. Elizabeth's heart dropped into her stomach as it became clear that he could see her and that he was laughing at her.

But that's impossible, she thought frantically. He's never seen me in any of my other dreams.

That didn't change the fact that he could see her now.

"Yes, I killed her," he confirmed for the speechless Elizabeth. It was an unnecessary statement. That fact had been terribly clear.

Suddenly the dream world she had been in vanished. Her mother's body along with the four-year-old Elizabeth's body disappeared. The toys and drawings around the room melted away, leaving the room dark, dusty, and cold. Elizabeth could see her breath in front of her, coming in short rapid puffs. It was still raining outside, the storm stronger than ever.

Most alarming; however, was that Eric still stood on the other side of the room, staring at her. A small, ugly smile had come to his face. Elizabeth could see two pointed teeth, confirming that Eric was a vampire, just as Madame Harriet had guessed.

He had aged considerably from the dream, but he looked nothing like the homeless man who had shown up on Harriet's doorstep. No, Eric looked to be in his late thirties and was tall, dark and handsome, just as Jack had described him. His nearly black hair barely touched his shoulders. He was clean shaven and stood like royalty, his chin held high. His eyes where completely black, reminding her of a raven. They were glaring at her, cold and unfeeling. If he hadn't been looking at her that way, he might have been pleasing to the eye.

Elizabeth looked him up and down a few times, her eyes still unbelieving. Even under his clothes, she could make out well-developed muscles. She also noticed that where his dagger had been in her nightmare there was now a long sword, it's hilt gleaming in the moonlight.

He caught her staring at his weapon.

"I've upgraded since your mother's death," he commented, his sneer growing wider.

Finally Elizabeth's brain began to process the information it had been swamped with.

"It…it…it was you…" she stammered, finding her voice.

"Didn't I just say as much?" he responded, apparently pleased with her confusion.

She stood on shaking feet, but every moment she grew stronger.

"Why?" she asked, breathless.

"You know perfectly well why," he snarled at her repetitive question, showing his teeth like an aggressive dog. "You saw what your father did. He ordered my parent's deaths! I wanted justice!"

"How could you know…?" she began, wondering how he could possibly know about her nightmares.

"You don't really think it's a coincidence that you started having those dreams do you? I made you have them. I controlled your mind and gave you access to my memories through dreams."

She didn't see how her first nightmare, where she had seen his parents viciously murdered, could be a memory of his, since he hadn't been present, but she didn't tell him that. She let him believe what he wanted.

"Why did you kill my mother though? She never did anything to you or your family!" she exclaimed.

"My parents were good and honest people," he countered. "That didn't spare them from being murdered! They didn't deserve to die!"

"Neither did my mother!" she screamed, her hands balled into fists, shaking at her sides.

"No, your mother didn't deserve to die," he began, breaking eye contact and glancing down. Was that regret she saw reflected in his eyes? "But your father deserved to suffer. That's why she died! It's his fault! She suffered the consequences of his poor decisions. Your mother's death changed him forever." His gaze had returned to being filled with hatred.

"Well, his suffering is over now," she spat back. "He's dead. You can't torture him anymore."

"No…but I can kill you and finally get the closure I've been seeking!" he hissed, drawing his long sword from its scabbard. The deadly metal gleamed an eerie shade of silver in the pale moonlight as he approached her menacingly.

Elizabeth's fighting instincts took over and she quickly scanned her surroundings for something to fight with. There weren't many choices since this had been a child's room, but glancing down she saw a fire-poker leaning against the unused fireplace. Remaining still until the last possible moment, she waited for Eric to attack. Just as he swung his sword at her head, she ducked and grabbed the fire-poker.

With a firm grip on her impromptu weapon, she hastily crossed the room, attempting to put distance between herself and her adversary. Eric turned toward her and she saw bewilderment and excitement flash across his eyes. He was enjoying this.

"I won't die as easily as you think," she told him, trying to deter him from his mission. All her statement did was make him smile.

"Good. That will make killing you all the more satisfying," he replied.

He charged at her again and Elizabeth barely had time to sidestep him. The sword caught the billowy fabric of her shirt, creating a large hole. If she had moved a second later, that hole would have been in her ribcage.

Adrenaline and previous life-or-death experiences kept her calm and focused on her next move. She dodged his next swing and delivered a blow to his upper back, putting all of her strength behind her swing. He bent over in pain but recovered quickly. She didn't even have time to back away.

Eric lunged at her again with a battle cry, trying to spear her with his weapon. Elizabeth was caught off guard and hardly deflected the blow. The sword glanced off her arm and a searing pain engulfed that area of her body, making her cry out.

The fight wasn't going well, but Elizabeth was in no mood to die. Not giving up, she crouched down before Eric could swing again and hit him below the knees with the fire-poker. He crumpled, falling forward, his sword spearing the glass of the balcony doors instead of its intended target. Elizabeth rolled out from under him just in time to avoid being squashed. She stood back up, breathing heavily from exertion. To her amazement, and horror, Eric was already jumping to his feet, sending bits of shattered glass flying in all directions.

The rain from outside began to blow inside, making matters even worse.

"You're very quick," Eric stated, sounding a little frustrated.

"Thank you," Elizabeth said in a mocking tone.

He laughed through his nose, the sound coming out as a snort. Then he raised his sword again and let off a string of swings and blows that Elizabeth struggled to parry; he was so much stronger than her. Stronger and faster. When he paused momentarily, she realized that the poker was bent and could no longer be used to fight or defend herself. But it could be used for one thing.

She hurled the metal weapon at her attacker, the blow hitting him in the face. He howled in pain at the unexpected action, his free hand flying up to his eyes and nose. While he was temporarily distracted, Elizabeth seized her opportunity and kicked his sword arm, dislodging the sword from his grip. It clattered loudly to the hardwood floor.

"No!" he bellowed as she dove after it.

Elizabeth's hand had just grasped the weapon when Eric jumped on her, tackling her and forcing her to lie on her back. He was sitting on top of her, one hand tightly clamped around her slender throat, the other preventing her from striking him with the sword. The rough hand around her throat began to squeeze and Elizabeth was unable to breathe.

"Like mother like daughter," Eric sneered. "I suppose I should ask you if you have any last words. Is there anything you'd like to tell your son? I'll be sure to tell him before I kill him."

Elizabeth's eyes went wide at the mention of her son. She had to think. Fast.

She nodded furiously, hoping to buy herself some time. Eric lessened his grip just slightly and she pretended to gasp for breath. She moved her lips and whispered raspy words so the vampire had to lean in to hear what she was trying to say.

When she had him exactly where she wanted him, she pitched her head forward with as much force as she could muster. Their foreheads collided and the vampire jumped back, both of his hands reaching up to his throbbing head.

Elizabeth didn't waste any time and quickly grabbed the sword.

As Eric recovered, Elizabeth turned his own weapon against him. Without hesitation she plunged the sword into his stomach, pushing it as far as she could. The vampire stood up and thrashed around in pain and surprise.

He screamed in agony, stumbling backward through the shattered doorway. His eyes were glazed over. It was obvious that he had thought it was impossible for him to lose this fight.

Elizabeth stood and followed him out onto the balcony, not paying attention to the sharp pains the glass created in her feet. She wanted to be there for her enemy's final moments. She wanted to see him die.

"This isn't fair!" he gasped pathetically, sounding like a whiny child.

"Yes, well, life isn't fair," she retorted, pushing a lock of hair that was plastered to the side of her face behind her ear. She gripped the wound on her arm, trying to stem the blood flow.

Suddenly Eric pushed himself off the balcony railing and tried to grab her. Elizabeth easily evaded him because his actions were slower. Eric missed her, but his hand caught on the necklace of her locket, ripping it from her throat. Elizabeth hardly noticed, focused on killing the vampire.

With a satisfied smile she kicked the hilt of his sword for a final time. The force of her kick sent her opponent falling backward, tumbling over the railing and into the bushes below.

The adrenaline that had been sustaining her strength during the battle was depleted. Elizabeth fell to her knees on the balcony, slumping over from exhaustion and pain, her injured and weak body unable to keep going.

Author's Note: Just wanted to say that this chapter was partially inspired by a friend, who knows what kind of trouble you can get into from sleepwalking! I hope you liked the chapter. I am not sure that I write action sequences well, so please leave me a comment and tell me how I did. Did it seem realistic? What could I do to make it better? Should I add/take out parts? I hope nothing was confusing. Tell me if it was. Thanks for reading!