Vlad yawned for the fifth time that morning. Apparently, vampires did that, too, though for what purpose, Vlad could hardly imagine.

"Tired, yet?" Robin teased, although the bags under his eyes made his own exhaustion obvious.

They'd given up on chess hours ago, killing time by playing with Simon and trading stupid jokes. Vlad had been able to suffer through roughly 30 seconds of Robin's ghastly vampire puns, before insisting they play Battergories instead.

About midway through the night, they had snuck downstairs to Renfield's lab, despite Vlad's misgivings, to grab something for Simon to eat—the name was growing on him—and when they'd finished, somehow making it back to the tower without further incident, they'd watched a bunch of dumb YouTube videos on Robin's mobile, eating up a large chunk of his parent's data in the process.

Now, with the morning sun just minutes from rising, they were leaning against the door, bored out of their skulls.

"Is it time yet?" Vlad asked. "I don't think I can take much more of waiting." They'd have to be quick, if they were going to grab the coffin without risking his father's wrath.

"Yeah. Let's just get it over with," Robin agreed.

Vlad stretched, yawning again. "All right. Remember to keep your eyes closed," he instructed, and Robin complied, wrapping his arms around Vlad's neck and hanging on tight. As if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Vlad held his breath as he clutched at Robin's back, staring steadfastly at the opposite wall and not anywhere near Robin's enticing jugular.

Someone up there must really hate him.

"Ready?" Robin asked, bringing him back from the brink of dangerous mental territory.

Vlad nodded, and, making sure not to let Robin's thin frame knock into any walls, sped down the stairs.


Vlad slowed as they approached the dining room table, and bent his knees slightly to signal that Robin could let go—though he supposed he needn't have bothered. He may have grown a fair amount in the last three years, but Robin still had quite a few inches on him.

Robin cracked his neck with a grimace.

"All right," Vlad whispered. "Do you see anything?" He turned, glancing behind them into the dark.

"No. Do you?"

"I think we're fine. You stay put, I'll check on the coffin," Vlad said. "I don't trust Ingrid not to have booby-trapped it. Have you got your garlic spray?" he checked the hall a second time, just to be sure.

Robin nodded, waving the bottle at him.

Vlad tiptoed over to the coffin, turning to wave him over. "Okay, now get in."

"What? Why?"

"Do you want to get out of here or what?" Vlad opened the cover and stared at Robin pointedly. Robin hesitated, and then stepped inside, crossing his arms over his chest with an impressive scowl.

"I'll be as gentle as I can, okay?" Vlad promised, winking at him through the opening in the lid. "Now hang on tight."

Robin rolled his eyes. "Just hurry up before your dad catches us."

Vlad closed it, glancing around one last time before lifting the now-occupied coffin in two hands, careful to arrange things so he'd be able to see where he was going.

At the base of the tower steps, Vlad knocked at the lid. "Okay, you can get out now," he whispered, stifling a grin. Robin emerged, rubbing his forehead. "Did I hurt you?"

"Just dizzy," Robin complained. "Was that really necessary?"

Vlad sniggered. "No; but it was hilarious."

Robin shoved him. "I'm glad my pain is amusing to you, but I'm exhausted. Can we finish this already?"

Vlad wiped the smile off his face. "Yes. Sorry."

The two of them climbed the stairs, with Robin taking the lead. Vlad looked over his shoulder warily. Call him paranoid, but Vlad wouldn't put it past his dad to try something—like taking Robin hostage until he agreed to renounce all thoughts of blood abstinence.

Vlad set the coffin in the center of the bedroom floor. He straightened—and yelped in alarm. A few rays of light had peeked through the curtains, striking him squarely in the chest.

He sped to the far corner of his room as smoke rose from him in gentle spirals.

Robin rushed to the window and shut the curtains. "Ouch. That looked like it hurt." He grimaced, waving a hand in front of his nose. "You smell like bat barbeque."

"I think I'm okay," Vlad said, holding his shirt away from the tender area. It really had hurt, though. "Just thirsty. I guess pain makes the hunger worse."

"Where's your soya blood?"

Vlad gestured over his shoulder, distracted. "I put it on the desk, over by the chess set."

"I'll get it," Robin said, coaxing Vlad to sit on his coffin. "You rest."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm fine."

Robin scanned the desk with a puzzled expression. "Wait, where did you say it was?"

Vlad turned, hissing as his shirt chafed against the raw skin on his chest. "By the… huh. Weird, I thought I put it—"

"Looking for this?" a voice drawled from the doorway.


Ingrid stood with one hand resting on her hips, the other holding a bottle. About a third of the liquid was left. Had he really had that much?

Vlad sighed at his sister. "Give it here, Ingrid." The vampiress's face was the very picture of innocence—which meant she was definitely up to something.

"I was under the impression you weren't into the whole 'blood-drinking' thing," she said, smirking as she swirled the bottle's contents. "Did little Vladdy finally have a change of heart?"

Vlad scowled. "It's not real blood. It's vegetarian. Renfield came up with the recipe."

Ingrid stared at her nails, looking bored. "If you say so. So, you won't mind if I take it, then?"

Vlad stuck out his chin. He refused to let her antics faze him. "Do what you want, Ingrid. There's plenty more where that came from. Although I don't know why you'd even want it. Aren't you a dyed-in-the-wool carnivore, or something?"

"Something like that," Ingrid smiled, eyes flashing. "Well, don't let me interrupt your little slumber party, or," she eyed Robin with amusement, "whatever it was you were doing. I'm off to bed."

Vlad glared at her as she left. "What a witch," he muttered. "I don't know what she's playing at."

Robin approached him from the side, cradling Simon in the crook of his arm. "I'll never understand that woman. I can't believe I used to think she was hot."

Vlad raised an eyebrow. "Used to?"

Robin shrugged, a little too casually. "Eh. She's not my type." He looked away. "Look, let's just go ask Renfield for more of that soya stuff."

Vlad eyed the purple bags under Robin's eyes. "You've done plenty." He gestured to his closet. "You could sleep on my old bed, if you like."

Robin bounced Simon up and down gently as he considered it. "My parents will think I'm at school by now, so… I guess I can stay until two. But I've got to be back home after that. They'll be expecting me."

Vlad nodded. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't be too keen on encouraging Robin to skive off school—but it was clear that Robin was in no shape for educating.

"Let's get the mattress set up, then. I'll go talk to Renfield once you're settled in."

"Thanks, mate."


Vlad knocked at the lab door, shuffling from foot to foot. "Come in, come in," Renfield called through the door.

Vlad entered to the sight of a steaming, brownish liquid bubbling its way through several metres of spiraled glass tubing above his head. "Renfield, is the next batch ready yet?" he asked, spotting a row of dark bottles lined up against the wall. He stalked toward one, snatching it off its shelf and popping it open eagerly.

"Yes, Master Vlad," Renfield said, humming to himself as he stirred a large pot. "Feel free to take as many as you need."

"It smells different," Vlad complained, taking a swig—and promptly spat it back out onto the floor. It tasted absolutely foul. "Ugh! Renfield, why did you change the recipe?"

Renfield looked puzzled. "I didn't," he said, glancing at the tubes of bubbling liquid with the concern. "It's the same exact ratio that I used before."

Vlad stared at the bottle in his hands, realization dawning on him. "Ingrid," he snarled. "She must have had something to do with this. Probably sabotaged it when you weren't looking."

Renfield puffed up his chest. "I'm the only one who's been in here all night. No one else could have entered without my knowledge."

Vlad shook his head. "This can't be the same stuff you gave me before. It's revolting." He growled. "Ingrid's going to pay for whatever it is that she's done."

Speak of the devil. The door opened, and Ingrid strolled in. "If it isn't my favorite brother."

"Ingrid, what have you done to Renfield's potion," Vlad grit out, crossing the room with clenched fists.

"Nothing," she said sweetly. She hesitated, putting a finger against her lower lip. "At least, not this time."

Vlad hissed at her. "Explain."

"I might have put a little something special in the first batch," Ingrid suggested, pulling a small bottle out of her pocket. Vlad stiffened as he recognized it.

"You didn't," he rasped. He felt sick.

"Oh, but I did," she disagreed, smirking. "I did you a favor, brother, so you can stop looking at me like I strangled your kitten. Your abstinence plan was bound to fail eventually." She shrugged. Vlad gaped at her wordlessly. "You can't change your nature. You're a bloodsucker. It's time you started acting like one."

After another moment's stunned silence, Vlad came to his senses; baring his fangs at her, he lunged across the room. Ingrid dodged easily.

"You should be thanking me, really. Don't tell me you didn't love drinking your little breather-friend's blood." Her voice lowered. "You said it yourself—'there's so much more where that came from'. All you have to do is take it."

"Eat dust," Vlad yelled, throwing a fireball at her face. Ingrid caught it easily, reducing it to ash in her fist. "This is pure evil, even for you," he spat at her.

"How sweet of you to say." Ingrid grinned. "I haven't even told you the best part!"

Vlad stared.

"Haven't you been paying any attention to your studies? Don't answer that—of course you haven't." She uncorked the bottle, sniffing it with interest.

The smell of it, when it arrived, was like a slap in the face. Vlad's knees trembled, and his vision swam. "Blood that is freely given is the most addictive substance that exists for a vampire. You'll never be able to stomach animal's blood again after tasting that, let alone that vegetarian crap Renfield made for you."

"You're lying," Vlad cried out, feeling unsteady. "It can't be true." He was having trouble focusing on Ingrid's face—the hunger clawed at his gut, even more unbearable than before. Desperate, he zipped to Renfield's shelf of potions ingredients, rifling through the bottles madly; spotting a vial of goat's blood, he seized it and downed it in one gulp, only to spit it out immediately onto the floor, grimacing at the stale metallic burn.

His stomach growled at him. He spotted a jar of rat's blood, and tried again. But it was more of the same. Refusing to give up, he forced himself to swallow the stuff. It stung like acid going down. He clutched his stomach.

"It's useless to fight it. The addiction is magical, not physical." Ingrid took a step forward. Her voice grew soft, almost kind. "Hasn't that boyfriend of yours always wanted to be a vampire, anyway? Now he can get his wish." Vlad shook his head in disbelief, and Ingrid looked into his eyes, pleading. "Give in, Vlad. I can show you how to control the hunger, and with my help you can become the powerful heir Dad's always wanted." Something in her face changed, and a flash of something melancholy flitted across her pale features. Then, it was gone. "I can teach you to be a proper vampire."

Vlad pushed past his sister coldly, unable to look at her. "I'm not sure I'll ever be able to forgive you for this, Ingrid."

Ingrid turned when Vlad had left, staring down the room's other occupant. Renfield cowered under his mistress's sharp glare. "What are you looking at?" she demanded, showing Renfield a gruesomely sharp set of fangs.

The manservant quickly scarpered off.

When Ingrid was alone, she said, "He's mad at me now, but I've done the right thing."

Will stepped out of the shadows, taking Ingrid into his arms. "Of course, my love. And Vlad will see that, too, eventually." He brushed the hair out of her eyes, smiling down at her.

She sighed. "Vampires and breathers don't mix. If he really cares about Robin, he'll bite him and get it over with, before he winds up hurting him for real."

Will twirled some of her hair around his finger, still grinning like a lovesick fool. "I'm so lucky that you did the same for me, all those years ago."

Ingrid allowed herself to be caught in her boyfriend's embrace, grateful that no matter what her so-called family thought about her, Will would always be by her side.


Vlad paced outside his bedroom door, trying not to panic.

I can't hurt Robin, was the only conclusion his tired brain could handle at the moment.

He thought about the handcuffs, which were most likely somewhere in the mess that was his desk. Could he risk entering to grab them? What if he went for Robin's throat instead?

His hunger was only getting worse. Vlad would never intentionally hurt Robin, of course—but what if he slipped up? He couldn't risk it.

He nearly hit himself. Of course—he wouldn't be able to bite Robin so long as he was wearing the amulet. It was pure argentallium.

He opened the door, glancing furtively at the bed; Robin was snoring, his messy black hair poking out from under Vlad's bright orange duvet.

Vlad tiptoed over to the far wall and found the cuffs next to an old notebook. He grabbed the cuffs; then, after a moment's hesitation, took the notebook as well, rifling through the papers on his desk for a pen. He would leave Robin a note, explaining what had happened; and then he would lock himself up.

For good, if necessary.

He gulped, not much looking forward to the idea of starving for eternity. But what alternative did he have? He refused to be a danger to the people he loved. An odd sense of déjà vu came over him at the thought, but he pushed it away.

He briefly debated leaving a note for his father as well, but knew that if the Count figured out that Robin had the key, all of the Branaughs would be in danger.

Should he take the key from him?

He padded to the bed, hovering awkwardly. It wouldn't be easy: Robin had wrapped himself tightly in a caccoon of blankets. Vlad was sure he'd wake him if he tried anything.

It was a moot point anyway; Chloe had her own copy of the key. Vlad would just have to hide himself thoroughly enough that Robin would never find him.

As he put pen to paper, he cursed his sister for the umpteenth time. For a moment there, in her own twisted way, it had almost sounded like Ingrid genuinely believed she was helping him.

Vlad scowled. That was probably giving her too much credit. If anything, this latest prank of hers had proven she was incapable of true human emotion.

He wracked his brains, clutching the pen. What do you say to someone you're about to leave forever?

His stomach sank. He thought of the one thing he'd always wanted to say to Robin, but had never quite known how to put in words. He glanced at Robin, and tried to commit the sight to memory.

Vlad had always been pants at poetry. Better to be short and sweet, and to the point.

Dear Robin; you aren't safe here anymore….


Robin stared at Vlad's absurdly beautiful, loopy handwriting. He couldn't believe the bloody bastard.

"Dear Robin; you aren't safe here anymore. Ingrid spiked Renfield's substitute with your blood. Apparently, blood that is freely given is highly addictive to vampires, and that means, as long as I am free, you will always be in grave danger. My body won't accept any substitutes for human blood, and I won't become the monster my family wants me to be. That's why I've locked myself in my coffin, and hidden away where I won't be found; I absolutely forbid you from trying to locate me for any reason."

'Any reason' had been underlined three times.

"My father will be unspeakably angry with me for doing this. You need to leave before he finds out. Take your family, and move as far away as you can. If I'm to be a monster…"

Here, the words were blurry, marred where several blotches of water had soaked through. Robin squinted, straining with the effort to make out the rest. "…Then it will be on my terms. Goodbye, dear friend. Take care of yourself."

At the end of the letter, a few of the words had been scored out with ink, followed by his name.

Robin's hands shook where they held the paper. So Vlad wanted to drink his blood, and this was how he reacted?

"Why didn't you just ask?" He whispered at the blank space where Vlad's coffin had been. "I would have said yes."

He had to think of something, and fast. Night would be falling in less than five hours. If he didn't find Vlad quick, before the Count found him missing…. Robin gulped. It wouldn't be good.

He knew Vlad couldn't have gotten far in broad daylight. He must still be somewhere in the castle—probably in one of the building's many secret passageways. He could start looking now and it might take days to find him, assuming the castle didn't intentionally sabotage his efforts.

He held his face in his hands, groaning. He smacked his forehead repeatedly, until an idea finally began to form in his exhausted brain.

Chloe would know how to fix this. She always knew what to do in these situations.


Robin snuck down the hallway, aware that being recognized at this stage would spell disaster for his entire plan. Fortunately, the halls were mostly empty, as classes were still in session. He just had to find the right room.

He opened a door and peeked his head in, apologizing as he interrupted yet another class for no reason.

There, this one had to be it. He peered through the glass on the door to Classroom 3B, and spotted Chloe sitting in the middle row of her World History class.

His younger sister, being the child prodigy she was, may have been only fourteen, but she was already less than a year from graduating High School. More importantly, she also happened to be Stokely's resident expert on getting vampires out of trouble, thanks to years of coming to Vlad and Robin's rescue time and again after every failed attempt to discover a cure for vampirism.

The handcuffs and amulet had been her idea, of course. If anyone knew how to find Vlad and help him out of his current predicament, she would.

Robin waved at her, hoping to catch her eye. But it was no use. He sighed, opening the door a crack, and stuck his head in, clearing his throat.

"Miss Harley; so sorry to interrupt. I'm afraid I need to borrow Chloe. Mum and dad want her to come home immediately. Family emergency."

He winced at the withering look his sister threw his way.

"My apologies, Miss Harley," Chloe said to the teacher, her face the very picture of regret. "But as you can see, my family needs me."

She stood, shouldering her bag and stalked after her brother. Miss Harley called out as she made to close the door. "The homework and readings for Thursday will be posted on Chalkboard."

Chloe turned, all smiles. "Of course, Miss Harley."

"Oh—and before I forget, I was just about to pair you all up for your term projects…."

"It's all right," Chloe interrupted. "You can pair me with whoever still needs a partner at the end."

Miss Harley nodded. "Very well—see you Thursday, then."

Chloe turned, grabbing her brother's hand and making a swift exit.


Jonno Van Helsing watched them go with narrowed eyes. This had to be about the Draculas; he was sure of it. Branaugh number one would never agree to leave class early if Branaugh number two hadn't put his foot in dangerous vampire business; again.

Miss Harley was going around the class, pairing people up. Jonno waited until she was only a desk away, then raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Van Helsing?"

"I want to be paired with Chloe, if that's okay?" he said, smiling. "We're both interested in the same topics, and we haven't gotten to work together before."

Miss Harley smiled. "Excellent. That will be perfect, then."

Jonno smirked; all he had to do now was convince Branaugh that he'd been paired up with her by accident. That girl was far too smart not to suspect an ulterior motive.


As the door closed behind them, Chloe tugged at Robin's ear, pulling him close. "This had better be good. This is the second time you've pulled me out of class this year," she hissed.

Robin shrunk back, holding up his hands. "I swear it's urgent. It's about Vlad."

Chloe blew a puff of air out her nose. "Honestly. Just ask him out already. He's totally into you."

Robin glared, looking up and down the hall. No sign of Van Helsing senior. "I'm not gay, and neither is Vlad. Besides, that's not why I'm here." He lowered his voice. "Vlad's gone and locked himself up in his coffin with the handcuffs I gave him for his birthday, and now he's hiding somewhere in the castle. He left a note, telling me not to go looking for him under any circumstances. That's why I need to find him before his dad wakes up, or else there will be hell to pay, and you'd better believe it will be my neck on the line."

Chloe raised an eyebrow. "What a pair the two of you are." She rolled her eyes, dragging Robin by the shirt toward the exit. "Come on then, tell me everything."


Robin paced up and down the kitchen floor, combing his hands anxiously through his hair.

He'd completely forgotten that their mum and dad were attending a golf tournament today in the town over. The timing was perfect—they wouldn't be back until at least nine, which should give them plenty of time to think of something.

Chloe stared intently at the nearly two-dozen tabs cued up in her browser. "I can't believe you gave Vlad a bottle of your blood. Are you an actual idiot?" She asked, shaking her head as she clicked another link with a sigh.

Robin grimaced. "How was I supposed to know that voluntarily-given blood was like crack to vampires?"

"Still. You should have consulted me first," she said, squinting at her screen. "Huh."

"What?" Robin asked eagerly, craning his neck over her shoulder to catch a look. "What is it?"

"According to this, there may be a way for Vlad to drink human blood without hurting his victim—er, donor," she amended, at Robin's warning look.

Chloe had never quite been able to forgive Vlad's family for the Hunt Ball the Count had thrown several years prior, wherein they had left the lives of Chloe's entire family to the mercy of dozens of hungry vampires. They may have gotten out of it in one piece, but Chloe had refused to visit the castle ever since.

Still, though she kept her distance—and rightly so—she'd never stopped caring for Vlad. She knew that he was genuinely different from other vampires; and for that reason, if nothing else, she also knew that she couldn't stand by idly while his family attempted to turn him into something he was not. He deserved better.

More importantly, Robin cared for him.

"Well? What else does it say?" Robin asked impatiently. Chloe scanned the document.

"It says there's a magical necklace that can protect its wearer from any harm done by a vampire. There's an old slayer's legend about it." She read on. "According to this, the necklace is the ultimate defensive shield against the undead."

Robin grinned. "Excellent! Where can we find one?"

"Don't get your hopes up. It's an old Transylvanian relic from the Middle Ages. Slayers have been searching for it for centuries. They call it... the Amulet of Ecranare."

"Ecernare?" Robin said slowly, trying out the word.

"Ecra-nare." Chloe bit her lip, skimming the rest. "There's a lot of rubbish here about the history of the slayer's guild... Hold on." She paused. "Ah- okay, here we go. The amulet grants its wearer special powers..." Her eyes widened. "Apparently, it's rumored to be able to stop vampires in their tracks, even force them to do the wearers bidding."

"Whoa," Robin breathed, reading over her shoulder. "So, what you're saying is I could use it to control Vlad's every move?"

Chloe stared at him like he'd grown a second head. Robin wilted. "I mean, protect him from himself, of course."

She returned to her search. After a minute, she sighed, leaning back in her chair. "I don't know, Robin, it sounds like a dead end to me. The necklace hasn't been spotted in over fifty years. I wouldn't even know where to start looking."

Robin slumped against the wall. "We'll just have to keep trying," he said firmly.

Chloe nodded, and was about to close out of the tab when she spotted an old portrait of a King toward the bottom of the page; a King that also happened to be wearing the necklace in question. She gasped.

"Robin… there's no need to go looking for it. You've got it already!"

"What!" Robin gaped.

"It's true. Look—that's the same amulet we ordered off of the slayer's site a few weeks ago. You're wearing it right now!"

Robin looked down at the amulet that hung around his neck. He turned it over in his fist and stared at the tiny bright red jewel in the center. "This thing?"

Chloe read on. "There's a poem that goes with it. I guard against the living dead, if ever I be worn; no load shall steal my wearer's strength, nor claw, nor tooth, nor horn; my rivals' blows are thrown in vain. Enemy, be forewarned: no bite shall burn my wearer, no darkness in him borne. Hmm. The rhyming feels a bit forced..."

Robin grinned ear to ear. "Awesome. What does it mean?" After a moment, he gave his sister an assessing look. "I didn't know you spoke Transylvanian."

"Old Romanian," she corrected. "And I don't. It was already translated." Chloe stared at the amulet around her brother's neck. "Whatever slayer put that on auction can't have known what it was. They'd never have sold it."

He cocked his head to one side. "So what does the poem mean, anyway?"

She bit her lip. "I could be wrong about this—but it sounds like the amulet protects its wearer from supernatural infection." At Robin's blank look, she rolled her eyes. "Meaning, anyone who wears that thing could be bitten without turning into a vampire."

"That's bloody perfect!" Robin shouted, slamming his fist on the table.

"Watch your language," Chloe warned. "Besides, we don't know for sure that's what it means."

Robin grinned. "It's just… don't you see? If I can just convince Vlad to… then…" he trailed off.

"Vlad would never go for it," Chloe said gently, and Robin knew she was right. The very idea of drinking blood from a human was repulsive to Vlad. And from him, no less? After what Ingrid did? Forget it.

Robin sank into a chair. "I have to do something," he said. "We'll just have to keep looking."

Chloe nodded. "I'm on it."

"Are you sure? It's only one o'clock; you can probably make sixth period if you hurry." Chloe shook her head.

"It's fine." She gave her brother a small smile. "This is more important. Now go back to the castle and save your boyfriend while I think of something. Maybe you can convince him in the mean time to reconsider his idiotic plan to starve himself to death."

"You're the best, Chloe," Robin said grinning, kissing his sister on the cheek and turning for the door. He stopped. "And he's not my boyfriend."

Chloe shrugged. "Whatever you say."