The cafe, for somewhere so small and out of the way, was more crowded than Harry would have imagined. Couples laughed in the flickering candles lit in ornate, black glass holders on the tables. Firelight glinted from marble skin and sharp, wicked white teeth. Harry blinked. They were all vampires. Edward must have heard Harry's heart begin to beat faster; he reached a cold hand and rested it on Harry's shoulder. The other vampires must have heard it too because they turned, wordlessly towards them, their gaze hungry and fierce. One slim, dark haired woman licked a red tongue over her crimson lips at him. Harry saw the venom silver her lips for a moment, felt himself blush and heard her laugh throatily. Edward growled softly and the crowd looked away, not with disinterest but out of respect for Edward's rights of ownership. Harry felt this unspoken agreement and realised again that Edward was actually a predator, a killer. He swallowed.
Edward's grip steered Harry to a table, as they sat a waiter arrived. He was a mortal, Harry noted looking at the vein in his neck pulsing and the flush of his skin. He smiled warmly at Harry and more nervously at Edward as he gestured with his notepad that he was ready to take their order. 'Not now,' commanded Edward. The waiter moved quickly away.
Before Harry could take in any more of his surroundings the seat opposite him was taken by a woman. She was dressed all in black and red, in a costume Harry thought must have been Victorian in its design. Lace contrasted sharply with the white of her skin at her breast and Harry was reminded again of Snow White. This woman was dazzling even in this company. Small of frame, her hair, as black as midnight; fell in loose curls around her white shoulders. Her eyes were large and almost completely black, when she turned Harry saw that they were actually a dark, deep red. There was something alive and quick about her, he decided, even though she was clearly undead. Her movements were the sharp actions of a hunter. With an imperious wave she summoned the waiter.
The ancient cut glass goblet he put in front of her was filled with a deep red liquid. Blood, thought Harry and felt his eyes widen at the thought. Edward received the same, though he wrinkled his nose in disgust and furiously pushed the glass away from him. Harry caught a glimpse of Edward's reaction before he composed himself again. Revulsion and excitement? Harry was confused. The woman brought the glass to her lips and sipped delicately, the blood stained her top lip and a lascivious tongue licked it clean. She sighed with obvious pleasure. Human blood, Harry realised with shock. She was drinking warm, human blood. No wonder Edward looked so distressed, his urge to drink it must be immense and yet he was resisting. The waiter removed the Edward's glass from the table and murmured an apology.
'We have deer's blood?' he suggested carefully, 'stag and doe.' he added. Edward nodded once. The waiter began to ask a question but one look from Edward's glittering eyes silenced him. He put down a glass in front of Harry and scurried away. Harry looked sceptically at his drink. Wine, he decided, it had not the colour of the consistency of the blood the woman was obviously enjoying. How anyone mistook the two was a mystery to him now he had seen them side by side. Now he had noticed Harry saw that most people in the bar were also drinking blood. It made him nervous. Whose blood was this? He wondered, his mind racing. Feeling eyes turning to him again he tried to slow his heartbeat. Their guest smiled at him as if she had heard his thoughts aloud.
By the time the waiter had brought Edward's drink the woman had finished her own. She licked her lips again appreciatively. Then she spoke.
'Thank you gentlemen for accepting my invitation.' Her accent was refined English and her voice like crystal, clear and commanding. 'I bring you greetings from my,' she hesitated and her perfect brow wrinkled slightly,' my master.' She finished the word snapping her mouth shut on the last syllable. Edward was leaning forward frowning at her. He's trying to read her thoughts decided Harry. It didn't look as though he was having any luck either. Harry decided to speak.
'Who are you?' he demanded getting straight to the point. 'And who's this master? Why did you want to see us? How do you even know who we are?' The woman smiled indulgently at his questions. Harry got the impression she might have used this same expression to a child who asked 'why' too often. Right before she ripped its throat out, he added to himself.
'My name in Mina Harker and my master needs no introduction.' She smiled as Edward sat back in his chair as though he had been shocked. 'I see your,' again she chose her word carefully, 'your lover has heard of me.
'Mina Harker?' Edward's voice was harsh.' You expect us to believe that you're Mina Harker?' He shook his head. 'And I suppose your master is the Count?' He hissed scathingly though Harry could hear the shock in his voice. Harry was surprised. Who were they talking about? He had no idea.
'My name is indeed Mina Harker, though once I was known as Mina Murray.' The woman's voice was even though Harry could tell she was angry by being doubted.' My master is the Count you speak of. Count Dracula.' She added in a louder voice. The cafe patrons hushed at the name. Many of them looked away as though they had been caught eavesdropping and then their conversation began again in a forced, over animated way as though they were desperate to be seen not to listen.
'Isn't he a character in a book?' whispered Harry quietly, even he had heard of that name before, his mind spun frantically trying to remember the plot of a film he'd never seen. 'And doesn't he die in the end... of the book?' he ended lamely. Mina's eyes flashed dangerously and her voice took on a deeper timbre as though it was the voice of another superimposed over her own.
'Do you think that fool Stoker would have written such a ludicrous story if he was not compelled to do so by the Count himself?' she hissed leaning forward, her eyes flashing. 'That fool Quincy Morris would have sooner sliced open his own neck than risk the Master's displeasure!'
'You're saying Dracula forced Stoker to write that version of the story as a cover up? That he faked his own death in the novel to distract the world from his existence?' asked Edward butting in and ignoring her hiss when he called the Count by his real name. She nodded once, the subject was obviously closed.
'So, what does... your master want?' questioned Harry in the silence that followed. Mina's eyes turned to him and he was struck with how dangerous she looked, how insane.
'He wishes to avail himself of your...talents Mr Potter.' She answered simply. Harry felt Edward's body stiffen beside him and he put his hand on the cold knee which touched his own.
'What does he want me to do?' Harry asked. Mrs Harker leant back in her chair, she seemed nonchalant and calm now.
'Just some simple conjuring to help his remain in his secluded state. She answered eyes wide as though she was telling the truth. Harry knew she wasn't.
'We're not interested.' Snapped Edward before Harry could speak. He stood holding Harry's hand and led him quickly from the cafe. Although Harry knew that everyone had been listening, no one seemed to watch their exit.
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Harry's arm hurt as Edward hurried him down the dark, quiet street. He'd never hurt Harry before. He was fighting the urge to run as fast as he could.
'Stop,' whispered Harry, afraid to speak aloud in the deserted street. Edward turned cold eyes to stare at him. Harry watched as the warmth came back into his gaze. Edward shook himself.
'Sorry, 'he pulled Harry to him and kissed him. 'I didn't mean to hurt you. I just want to get us away from that place, from that woman.' He glanced back down the street as though he thought she was following them.
'What do they really want?' asked Harry as they continued their hurried pace along passed sleeping houses.
'No idea.' Edward's answer was abrupt.
'Couldn't you read her thoughts?' Harry questioned Edward's hard profile in the moonlight.
'She was shielding them, with magic I think. Couldn't you feel it?' He turned to look at Harry.
'I did feel something,' Harry answered slowly, thinking back, 'but I can't be sure what it was. It wasn't her own magic,' his voice was more confident. 'It was as though someone had cast a glamour for her before she came to meet us.' he decided,' I sensed her own feelings under the glamour.'
'And they were?' Edward's voice was hard again.
'Sad, lonely and angry,' concluded Harry. That was it, he thought, she felt like Edward had before they had met.
Edward's vampire senses noted the sudden silence around them. It was as though nature held her breath, he thought to himself, as though she was too afraid even to breathe. Harry noticed the clouds gathering overhead. When had the moon been hidden, he wondered. The clouds were heavy, black and ominous and they ran along the sky like black wolves, hunting. The thought made Harry shiver. The rain began. Hard, heavy drops, unlike anything Harry had ever experienced before, slashed down at them from the sky. Lightening tore across the clouds as though it was ripping the belly of the sky and the cold raindrops were its blood spurting from the gaping wounds. Edward pulled again at Harry's arm but Harry had stopped in the road. He was looking up into the clouds and his face was a frozen mask of terror. His magic fought around him battling against a foe that Edward could not see. He followed Harry's gaze into the dark sky.
Harry felt the power, evil and inhuman. More dreadful than the power he had felt from Voldemort because of it utter inhumanity. Any human feeling it had was long gone and it seethed and raged with the power of a killer. The rule of the predator thrilled through its lightening and pounded in its thunder. Kill or be killed. And Harry was running again, this time pulling Edward along until the vampire's legs unfroze and he tore after him, overtaking him and dragging him along. They slipped and slid along the soaking cobbles. When Harry stumbled, Edward held him up and ran almost holding the wizard off his feet with his own speed. Speed fuelled by terror. The thunder growled above them, a frightening ancestor to the growl in Edward's chest beside him. The wind lashed and the rain lashed at their faces, their hair. Edward could hear Harry's ragged breath hoarse in his throat and his heart pounding wildly, dangerously in his fragile, mortal chest. He dragged them into a doorway.
Harry bent over, hands on his knees pulling in heaving breaths into his tortured lungs, willing his pulse to slow. The lightening clawed at the rooftops of the city, tearing its way over to the east. The rain and thundered scoured the sky after it. Questing like a hound with a scent of prey in its nose. The street where they stood was silent. Even Harry could feel the relief of all living things now the storm had passed. Edward could hear the people in the houses, turning in their sleep, the mice in their holes daring to shiver. He held Harry to him, burying his nose in the black damp hair, feeling the boy's breathing slowing. Harry, in turn, clung to Edward. The storm had made him realise something more dreadful than he could have imagined before this night. There was something out there worse than Voldemort.
From the gloomy street came a voice.
'Fleeing in the night! How terribly romantic my dear boys!' the drawling, upper class English accent was amused.