(I'm thinking one more chapter ought to do it. Thanks for the reviews and support!)
With the fall of night, the two monsters stirred. Abraham was relieved to see that they both still looked as battered and exhausted as before, still weak, still containable. Even so, he was very glad when the Harkers clattered in, heavy manacles in their hands. Expensive manacles; made more so when the blacksmith had to be bribed not to speak of making them. The wilds of Romania were quite superstitious enough to put a few facts together and deduce vampire.
Quincy was confused, pulling back from them, looking questioningly up at Dracula when Abraham demanded that he hold out his hands. Dracula looked angry...and then Seward, bless him, audibly cocked the pistol he held. Abraham didn't miss the slight tightening of Dracula's arm around Quincy, but with a huff the vampire accepted the requirement.
"Cooperate." The inaudible "for now" was not missed by any of them, and there was a brief holding of breath. Quincy obediently held out his arms, though they shook with weakness, and his puzzled and hurt human-looking expression brought guilt out in all of them. It was a monster playing at humanity, but it wore the face of their old and trusted friend and it played the game well. Dracula, too, held out his arms obediently and calmly but there was the faintest unending growl coming from him the entire time.
"Vampires, we need to rest. Quincy, you have a coffin coming shortly. We'll be guarding you the entire night, don't think you'll have a chance to escape us, but we're staying here at least through noon tomorrow."
And rest they would, though in shifts, with two always on duty. Soon enough Arthur's voice was heard outside in the muddy inn courtyard, directing the driver of a pony cart to the stable. Abraham didn't miss how Dracula shifted slightly, interposing his own form between his offspring and the stable door, nor the subtle tenseness of his body. The damn monster could barely walk, but he had to give it credit for some very strong protective instincts.
Seward left the stable, there was a low rumble of voices and the chinking sound of coins, the rasp of something heavy and wooden, and then Seward and Arthur stumbled inside, a raw wooden coffin stretched between them.
"Keep back." The two vampires obediently shifted slightly, pressing up against the wagon's side as the coffin slid in beside them. With the two coffins and two unwilling captives, there wasn't much room left in the wagon, but it didn't last long. Dracula gently urged Quincy towards the coffin, and though the American gave it a look mixing wide-eyed disgust and creeping horror, he settled inside with a minimum of resistance. With some difficulty the elder vampire shifted the heavy bag of grave dirt towards the new coffin, panting with exertion as he heaved it inside and then pulled the lid as close to closed as possible with the chains stretching from Quincy to the wagon's side.
Dracula peered inside, and a small smile flashed across the beast's face, a sort of smug pleasure and relief.
"Is there anything else he needs?" Abraham's curt question pulled the odd expression from the vampire's face and Dracula faced him, spitting slightly in anger.
"Other than food and freedom? Oh, no, he's perfectly fine, just starved and held prisoner by his friends. Who threatened to kill him, no less." Eyes glowing in a banked rage, the vampire turned his back to Abraham, wrapping up in the blanket again and leaning against his offspring's coffin, blatantly ending the conversation.
Food...well, he wasn't about to toss them a person to murder. He still wasn't certain how he was going to keep either of them fed, but perhaps some sort of solution would come while he slept. Convicts on their way to the hangman, perhaps, but the meals would be few and far between even so.
Ah well. Dracula appeared exhausted, face haggard and lined, body thin and weak. And no wonder; he'd been awake for hours during the day, watching them suspiciously. Not to mention his unsuccessful attack on poor Johnathan Harker! Carefully moving quietly alongside the wagon, Abraham peered inside, seeing Quincy asleep and looking almost blissful, despite the starved appearance and the eyes framed with deep bags and lines. Dracula shifted slightly, eyes cracking open to watch him carefully, then closing again as soon as he moved away.
"We should let them rest, too." Abraham gathered the others around the stable door. "Johnathan, you've got rooms for us?"
"If you can call them that. I'd take the bedrolls up myself, I don't trust those mattresses not to be alive. But they are warm, and quiet. One is the corner room, larger, and the small room next to it is ours as well. There are only two other rooms, and neither is occupied. There's a stew of sorts downstairs; I didn't ask what was in it, but it does smell appetizing."
"Excellent. I'll take the first watch, will you join me, Arthur?" At his nod, the pair of men settled on a pile of loose hay, legs stretched out comfortably, weapons close at hand. The rest of the small group pulled bedrolls from saddles and under the wagon seat, and trudged off to the inn. Time ticked past, neither vampire so much as shifting, the only noise the faint rustle of mice and occasional shifting of horses. The arrival of Mina with a pair of full stew bowls and her husband with two great steins of watered beer were welcomed...but then time continued its slow drag onwards.
It was with a sense of relief from the sheer boredom that they welcomed the other three at midnight, and went to their own beds.
x xx xx x
He'd drowsed on and off, but with his offspring so vulnerable and himself so weakened, Dracula had never let himself fall into any sort of deep sleep. And now, with Johnathan present and so close to Quincy, he wouldn't even be drowsing. Resting, yes...but listening and alert the entire time.
Quincy...he felt a pang of guilt at this, an unusual situation. This had not been supposed to happen. He had expected to simply pull himself together, hunt (though he'd be forced to be slow and careful, humans were still easy prey), and then return to his old home and avoid England! It had been with a sense of horror and sudden stab of fear for the American that he'd woken and realized that there was another vampire present...and it was his.
He knew he was powerful, and becoming more so with each passing decade. He'd long ago ceased to require a virgin to successfully transform a woman, though it certainly made the process easier and more likely to succeed. Quincy was no virgin, but that wasn't the problem...it was that he was a male! A puzzle. Had he simply reached a level of power where he could change a male? Well, the man slept, he wasn't about to wake him and ask questions. Quincy was exhausted, and while the young vampire might not recover any energy, the rest would still leave him more alert and sensible. Dracula didn't have the energy to pull all he wanted to know from his offspring's mind, but skimming the surface thoughts as the vampire dreamed was easy enough and took almost no effort at all.
Well. Well and well. He'd found answers, after all. The man was trapped in a nightmare of his own death, not unusual for the newly-changed, and the dream was an iron dream of hardness and strength and unyielding determination not to die. Quincy had fought his death with every bit as much energy as Dracula had fought his mortal death. The will to live was as important as any other factor in making a successful transition, and the man's will was simply incredible. And...something else, as he watched the dreams tumble about. Mostly nonsensical, but glimpses and reactions and bits of nostalgia combined to create a very different man from the outward appearance of brave masculinity Quincy presented.
Brave, yes, no doubts of that. Strong, and protective of his friends, and willing to sacrifice himself, too...astonishing, that, to find it alongside that incredible drive to live. But...more. Sensations, reactions more appropriate to a female, from a flash of deep envy at the beautiful peacock-like gown of a noblewoman to the well-hidden desire for a gleaming pearl necklace to adorn himself. Quincy's male responses were certainly there, lust at a flash of female leg, the fierce joy of a bar fight, but there was an unexpected "extra" to the man as well.
A terrible compilation of errors resulting in a baby vampire he could scarcely protect or guide. He'd only wanted a bit of control over the man, a little less uncertainty about what Van Helsing was plotting. His bond with Mina was far stronger, but if he'd paid any attention to what he'd forced on Quincy, Dracula had to admit he'd likely have escaped, not been stuck in chains in a reeking stable in his own domain! But he'd given the man his blood, and then ignored him. The man's will to live and the strongly feminine aspect of Quincy's personality had combined with that...and now his offspring, starved and confused and weak, rested beside him.
And now that offspring was waking.