Playing With Fire

Aline lay, in her bed, as sleep evaded her. The alcohol she had consumed was coursing through her body, and she began to feel dizzy. When she grew hot and clammy, she ran into the bathroom and stuck her head over the toilet. She knew she would throw up, she even considered helping it along by sticking a finger down her throat. But that would be a stupid move on her part, so she just waited until the feeling had passed. Sleeping was out of the question so she decided to get out an old story book that belonged to her Mother, and her Father's insignia ring. Both brought back fond memories.

Little Aline loved fairy tales, and her Mother, Sofia would read to her regularly. Her Father, Constantine would often be busy with state duties, but the would make sure to dote on her. Aline would reach out for his silver, winged lion ring, as it shone under the room's lights and it attracted her gaze. It was far too big for her, but Constantine would let her put it on. It took four of her fingers to keep it from falling off, to everyone's amusement.

Aline yawned and stretched her arms. The book was an old tale of a vampire, but she only vaguely remember the story. She opened the leather bound book and her eyes widened.

The book was about Dracula.

Aline knew Dracula was old, but he was much older than she thought.

Flicking through the book, she saw the Prince as a dragon, mighty and awe inspiring. He looked young there, and Aline thought about seeing him earlier. He didn't look that much older. She would estimate mid to late forties. Looking at herself? She would say mid thirties. But age wise, they were so far apart. She was 136 and she wasn't sure how much longer she had on this earth.

Her Father's blood was the only thing that stopped her from becoming old and decrepit. She did not wish to end up like that, not like...not like her Mother.

Aline shut the book and felt hot tears running down her cheeks.

The day her Mother died, she would never forget it. It still hurt, it lacerated her very being. Tormented her soul.

Sofia had been in bed, reading. With Constantine's blood, she was now 124 and still looked in her twenties. Aline had offered to get her something to eat and she nodded.

When Aline came back, the bowl of soup she had in her hands was dropped, and it shattered on the floor, spreading it's contents.

Sofia was dead, and now looked geriatric, skinny, her skin was saggy, and her eyes were still wide open, her hands still around the sides of her book.

Aline screamed, and kept on screaming till servants rushed to her aid. They cleaned the floor and made sure that no one was hurt by stray shards of pottery.

Aline fell to the floor, and screeched until she no longer had a voice. Her hoarse cries were met with the servants crying over their mistress' death.

Constantine was informed of what had happened and he raced home as quickly as he could. When he saw Sofia, his beloved wife dead, his whole demeanor changed.

He no longer stood up straight, he hunched over. He stopped shaving, he stopped drinking blood and became so unwell that Aline had to feed him from a bowl. He hated that and did not want to be treated in such a childish manner.

Aline was forced away from him and the castle. And she was done with the moping and fighting with her own Father, so she left without argument.

The tears did not stop, and Aline started to tremble. Her anxiety levels had skyrocketed. She lay down and closed her eyes, praying to whatever was up in the sky to let her rest in peace.

Alucard wandered his Father's castle, and could not find him. Then, he truly believed that his Father had killed himself, bestowed upon himself 'true' death.

Alucard felt disheartened, but knew that was what he wanted, and there was nothing he could do to stop him. You do not stop Dracula.

Even if he were the Prince's son, even he would not try and stop the rage and power of the dragon.

The white haired vampire spotted his Father and breathed a sigh of relief. Dracula swept past him and did not acknowledge his presence.

But Alucard had noticed that he looked distant, and he had not seen that look before.

He went to follow, but his Father mumbled no, so he stopped and lent against the wall, puzzled at what had made Dracula this way.

The next evening, Aline was back in the bar, but this time, she wasn't alone. Her sense of hearing was slightly better than that of a human being, so she could hear the men in the corner, speaking in hushed tones, about her. They had decided that they would go over there and 'chat her up'. Aline laughed out loud and glared at the men, who quickly stopped talking.

One of the men was gutsy enough to stroll over, casually and sit next to her. Aline decided to have some fun, and let her hair down.

If this man wanted a fiery woman, he had found one.

"Hey. How you doin'?"

Aline fought the urge to smirk and hit him.

"I'm okay, a little bored though".

The man gave her a quizzical look

"Me too. I could help with that. Here, let me get you a drink".

Aline had to bite her tongue. Oh how she wanted to slam this bastard's head on the bar, and watch his friends bolt out of sheer terror.

"Okay. Bourbon, on the rocks. Slice of lemon, and a cherry in it, please".

The man nodded and ordered that , before taking out his wallet.

"So, what do you do?"

Aline played the 'sexy' and 'come hither' cards and the man was eating it up. She bit her lip and tilted her head.

"I'm a waitress by day, monster hunter by night. I stop the people from getting slaughtered. More than likely, I have saved you at one time".

The man gulped and Aline pretended to look away, but she knew where he was looking. She crossed her legs, and folded her arms, knowing what that would do to enhance her cleavage.

"Well then, I guess I should thank you. Anyone ever said thank you for saving their asses on a daily basis?"

"No, sadly it seems that no one cares that I work my ass off to save them. One thank you would be enough, a gesture maybe".

The man knew a gesture, and when her drink arrived, he reached into his jean pocket and pulled out a small, plastic bag with white pills in it.

Aline knew what he was up too, but she was too wrapped up in playing with the toy. She was the cat, and he was her play thing.

She grabbed her drink before he could spike it and drank some of the tangy liquor. She kept the cherry in her mouth, and worked it around, much to the man's pleasure before spitting out the stone.

"Cheers".

She put the drink down and purposefully looked away so the man could put the pills into her glass. Before he did, he felt a blast of cool air from the bar door being opened and Dracula strolled in. He walked straight to the man and gave him a stone cold death glare. He ran away, leaving the little bag of pills behind. His friend's got the same glare, and soon ran off after him.

Aline laughed and drank more of her drink.

"We need to stop meeting up like this, Drac. People will start to talk".

Her laughter was abruptly cut short by the Prince's murderous glare.

"The only thing people will talk about is your behavior Aline. Flirting, throwing yourself at someone, you were asking for trouble".

Aline's tone became playful.

"I knew what I was doing. I was playing around with him. I wasn't going to screw him, I was bored and he provided entertainment. And you scared him off".

Dracula hissed and felt his inner rage threaten to boil over.

"Stupid girl. I never thought Constantine would bring up an alcoholic, moronic little whore for a daughter. I always thought him the modest type, as in teaching you to keep your legs closed".

Aline's eyes widened and she slapped the dragon without thinking. Any remaining patrons heard that and scurried out the door. Even the bartender backed away slowly.

Dracula was rapidly losing his patience and it showed in his breathing. He struggled not to lunge at Aline and strangle her until she shut her vile, profanity spewing mouth.

Aline bit back a sob, and went to head out of the back exit door.

"I may act out of turn sometimes, but I am no alcoholic, or slut. I know I have let my Father down, you don't need to tell me that. I already know. I'd apologise for my behavior if I gave a damn. But I don't. I will die soon anyway, my vampiric blood is so little that it cannot sustain me forever. So I'll be out of your hair soon enough. Dracula?"

Dracula felt a pang of guilt for what he had said. He had been rather harsh. He barely knew Aline, yet he had called her a whore, bringing her crashing down to the ground, with a hard thump.

The Prince looked up and nodded.

"Take care, okay? The people need someone to help them, and I can't do that when I'm gone. I won't see you again, and I'll skip the corny goodbye".

She waved and opened the door, walking away from the Prince.

He was disgusted with himself. Not known for his manners, he wasn't one for throwing out abuse and cursing either. If Constantine had heard him call his daughter that, he would have attacked him.

If Aline had hurt Alucard, Dracula would have killed her.

But she was innocent, overzealous, impulsive and rude, but innocent all the same.

He wasn't any of those things.

But he had disgraced himself, and tried to bring someone else down to his level of self loathing. Aline already hated herself, so why was he even bothering?

What was it that made him want to talk to her? Even in his wisdom, he did not know.

Dracula left for his castle and went straight to his coffin. The sun was starting to rise, and he needed to think.