Chapter 3:

Dinner was... awkward at best. All that was available was soup and some crackers to go with it.

"You must excuse our lack of choices," von Krolock had said, letting his own bowl cool a bit before tucking in. "We don't often have guests, so our pantry is a bit bare."

After that they ate in near silence, a servant came and cleared their bowls away. He was a lean young man who looked no older than 18 (not too far off from Laila's own age of 20) and couldn't have stood more than 5'8". He had parted and combed back chocolate brown wavy hair, a boyish face, and two different colored eyes; left blue, right grey.

"Daniel," the Count said to the boy before he had a chance to leave the room, "bring Herbert and I our usual bottle and bring our guest a nice strong cup of tea." The boy nodded and left into what Laila could only assume was the kitchen.

"So tell us, Laila," Herbert said casually, resting his chin on his folded hands. "How did you come across father's little ad?"

"My ad, Herbert?" von Krolock asked, cocking an eyebrow. "You were the one who put it out as a practical joke."

"Yes, but you were the one who went along with and advantage of it, daddy."

"I was looking through the classified section in the local paper," Laila responded, stifling a small giggle at Herbert's "daddy" statement. "My Romanian's not that great, so when I saw your ad printed in both Romanian and English, it kind of jumped out at me."

"Forgive me for asking," the Count inquired, "but if your Romanian is as bad as you're implying it is, what on Earth are you doing so deep into the country?"

Laila dodged the question as she realized something strange Herbert had said. "Herbert, I don't remember telling you my name. How did you know it?"

The Count and Herbert cast quick glances at each other and Herbert sighed, placing his hands firmly on the table. "You caught me, dear. I had been eavesdropping on you two to see how the 'interview' went."

Laila regarded him suspiciously as Daniel placed her tea in front of her, then handing his employer and Herbert each a glass of wine, setting a dark, unlabeled wine bottle between them. Laila picked up her warm mug and took a cautious sip while Herbert poured himself and his father a glass of... was that wine? It looked too thick to be wine, and the color was slightly off. "What brand of wine is that?"

"Just a local brand you've probably never heard of," von Krolock said, swirling his glass and taking in the aroma before taking a sip.

Laila simply said "Oh" and continued to drink her tea. It was strong, like the Count had ordered, and had a hint of bitterness to it, but she thought it would be rude to not drink the mug that had been offered her. Her head was becoming a bit fuzzy, though. It was difficult for her to think and the cup in front of her kept going in and out of focus. Something was wrong.

"How is your tea?"

Laila looked up to see Herbert casually examining his nails, but the Count; the Count was grinning over at her wickedly. And were those fangs?

"Delicious, thank you," Laila slurred, reaching into her bag and finding her cell phone. If she could just call someone. Just let someone know where she was. But the Count gripped her wrist in a second, easily prying her phone from her slowly weakening fingers.

"There's no need for that, now," he said in an eerily soothing tone. "It would be best to not fight it. Just sleep now. That's it..."

And then everything went black.