Abraham's scream stopped the vampire. An annoyed look hiding his glee, he glared at the man. "And NOW what do you want?"
"Please, don't kill him, don't kill him." The man was a shivering, sobbing wreck after seeing his son held by the vampire for the last couple hours. Amazing, really, how quickly the human had crumbled. The blood loss and the stress the man had been under the last few months hadn't helped, either. After all, he'd been responsible for no small amount of that stress. And such fruit his efforts had borne!
"Why would I not kill him? He disobeyed your orders, snuck downstairs when you were gone, and released a monster. If I let him grow up, well, he's already following in your footsteps of incompetent failure. Killing him now would likely be a mercy to the world." Pretending to ponder, a moment to pause and pretend to reach a realization... "The world deserves no mercy. Perhaps I shall let him live. But what sort of bribe would you offer me?"
Arthur stepped forward then, still pale and shaking, but furious. "And what sort of proof would you offer to us that you wouldn't simply kill him anyways?"
A rich, rolling, deeply malicious laugh rolled out, and Dracula tilted his head, eyeing the man with a single glowing orb. "I do have honor, you know. I didn't kill the child when he came, because where is the sport in that? Nor did I creep upstairs and murder the unsuspecting residents of the household, though the three of you had carelessly left them to me. At no time have I lied to you, have I? While two of you were away, did I simply kill the boy and the meal waiting in front of me? No. I had told you that I would let you bring me blood, and I did. And I had said that I would not bite the boy, and I did not." An evil grin stretched his lips. "It's not MY honor that is in question here, but your own. Why would I trust any of you? I've given you a way to feed me that didn't cost the lives of anyone, and now you repay me with your distrust?" A mocking smirk, an expression of injured pride. "I'm hurt, truly I am, wounded by your distrust. If you think so little of me, perhaps you may be right, and I am without honor. In which case, well, I should just bite Sam, then. True?"
Seward lifted his head, face streaked with fatigue and as grey as the others. "Damn you! Just... Damn you! What do you want?"
They were all at the ends of their ropes, a delightful English phrase, but it brought to mind puppets dancing on their strings. And they'd danced for him beautifully, true. But the stress, the late night, the blood loss...they were simply not thinking clearly. And so he'd have to lead them on to what he wanted.
"A trade. I would accept a trade. An incompetent man for a foolish boy. Besides, Abraham has made it plain he believes himself to be my Master. Perhaps I should become more acquainted with my "Master" and why he thinks himself to be so." A touch of rage crept out, anger at the treatment and humiliation he'd endured, and it was a fight to suppress it...though he thought the men might have detected it anyways. "Abraham...take your son's place, and I will release him."
"Unharmed?" The eyes of the men bore into him, seeing hope, possibility, and the boy twisted in his lap to look up at him, hopeful as well.
"As long as I do not see an attempt to trick me, yes. Any delays or irritation, and he might not be returned to you in as fine a condition as he is now. A fair trade, again. The man for the boy, and your good behavior for the boy's health." He almost purred at the looks of shock and calculation on their faces. "Decide quickly, for I'm certain he doesn't need all ten fingers. He'd get along perfectly fine with nine." They'd been planning something, or hoping to, and he gently cupped the child's hand in his own, grinning merrily as Abraham suddenly scooted forward across the floor, crawling quickly to him.
Never let them have time to think or plan. Tired and weak as they were, it could still go badly.
As soon as Abraham was close enough, he reached out and with a single smooth move, pulled the man into his lap while at the same time pulling the boy out. It took a half-second for the humans to ponder what had happened so quickly, but with a jerk Sam scrambled up and out of the coat and to the waiting arms of Seward and Holmswood. The three of them huddled, staring at Abraham, who sat stiffly on his lap.
The man reeked of terror and stress. It was delightful. And irresistable, truly, to gloat a bit, rub a cheek against the sweat-damp fabric across the man's shoulders, purr slightly in triumph. It was truly a wonderful evening...his erstwhile "Master" helpless in his arms, his friends unable to save him, and his son witnessing the results of the man's folly. Such a lovely, lovely evening...but morning was coming on, far too soon.