Hey,

here is the next chapter. Thank you for reading and reviewing, queenmedesa and the guest.
I hope you'll enjoy the next chapter too.

Trapped

"Here you go – this list contains all the items that we'll need. These things we'll need right now, those things by no later than midmorning," Konstantin Abronsius explained the note that he just gave to Chagal. "And it needs to be done quickly, 'cause I feel it in my bones that this fellow will come back tonight."

Chagal skimmed the list. "That should be manageable."

"And we'll also need the bravest man to be found here..."

Chagal fidgeted around on his chair. "I don't like this plan. Sarah..." But he paused, when the white-haired professor showed him a dismissive hand.

"It's either this plan, or losing your Sarah for sure," Abronsius made clear again.

Chagal struggled for another moment, before he nodded. "I'll send Magda with the list."

Abronsius stared at the Jew indignantly. Would he send the poor maiden just because he did not dare set foot outside during night himself? If all men in this village were such cowards, this would be some act... Chagal rose, left the small guest chamber and Abronsius leaned over his bag – he'd start preparing right now.

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Breda hastened down the winged staircase, clad in a new cape. He crossed the entrance hall with big strides and stepped out into the snowy night again. Mephisto should have regained some strength by now. They'd ride back to the village in an unhurried trot, to avoid overworking the horse. Fortunately these winter's nights were incredibly long here in Transylvania and there was enough time of darkness left to steal his star-child.

The stable-boy had done as he was told, but Breda did not expect less. He petted Mephisto's soft, ebony fur and felt that it was dry again. He neatly put the headgear back on, which the stable-boy had removed to enable the animal to drink and feed.

He got back on the saddle still in the stable and the stallion followed his orders obediently, as he was only under Breda's command.

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When Alfred woke, he didn't want to open his eyes. He was just too comfortable to move. He had no idea when and how the hard wooden bench in Chagal's guest room turned into this soft bolster. He only knew that he felt really good at the moment. He laid comfortably, he had a cozy blanket, it was warm.

But this peace was disrupted within the blink of an eye, when a nasty feeling flooded his body like a giant wave and flushed away everything else.

Hunger. He was terribly hungry. Never before in his life had he felt so hungry. The hunger filled himself completely and left no place for any other feeling.

He opened his eyes and saw that this was not the guest chamber of Chagal's. He was in a big room, filled with valuable furniture. There were exotic carpets on the floor. At one wall was a huge bed. There was a cozy fire crackling in a big chimney. He himself laid on a lounger and the cozy blanket was indeed a fur. Alfred realized with mild surprise that he was naked underneath the blanket.

His look fell on a young man, who sat in a softly cushioned armchair and seemed to be immersed deeply in a book. It was a man for sure, though many would have assumed a woman from afar. The very long, very fair hair fell sleekly over his shoulders. His fine facial features and the pale skin revealed him to be an aristocrat. The stranger put is book aside and looked at him taxingly, with bright, ice-blue eyes.

Alfred knew these eyes and they made him shiver. Suddenly all came back to him – the vampire in the bathroom, the teeth in his neck. He raised a hand to touch his wound instinctively, but felt nothing.

"You'll find nothing there. Vampires heal quickly. One of the benefits of being undead." The young man's voice was very gentle and Alfred could not have said if it was dark or clear. He settled on melodious.

"You – you're related to him," Alfred stated. "Milord," he added, remembering that he most likely spoke to a noble person.

"My name is Herbert and there is no need for such courtesies. And yes, it was my father who sired you, Count Breda von Krolock," Herbert explained. "And who are you?"

"My name is Alfred," he answered shortly. He did not feel like reciting his ancestry right now. He was dead, his family lived. That alone was strange enough. But it was even stranger that he didn't feel anything particular at this thought. All was covered by hunger.

"Come with me, Alfred. You're hungry. That's normal."

"For a newly-risen vampire?"

"For a vampire. Will you come now?"

"I don't have anything to wear. Unless your father decided to take my clothes too."

Herbert just pointed to a small table beside the divan and Alfred saw some clothes lying there. They were not his clothes. Alfred rose and the lambskin-fur slid off him. He now stood completely naked before the aristocrat, who watched him blatantly. But Alfred felt no shame. He felt indifferent. Only hunger was important right now. He grabbed the clothes without haste and donned them. They fitted neatly. Then he followed the light-blond vampire.

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They were green and incredibly intense. Herbert found it hard to stay calm, when he put the book aside and talked a bit with the new vampire. These eyes captured him.

He was a bit irritated when Alfred refused to tell him more about his origins, but he felt quite sure that he was no simple farmer boy. His speech was much too cultivated. He liked that. He knew the intensity of the First Hunger that tormented each newly risen vampire, so he forgave Alfred his impoliteness.

When Alfred rose to don the clothes which Herbert had retrieved out of his enormous wardrobe, he could get another good glance at his body. He couldn't inspect his backside, when he had laid there. He knew that Alfred felt his looks, but obviously he didn't mind at all. That was a first step at least.

He led Alfred through the labyrinthine aisles until they reached some winding stairs. These stairs led them to the wall-walk, that went around the central building of the castle. From afar they heard agitated barking. Slowly they approached a kennel.

"You have dogs on the castle roof?" Alfred asked, somewhat confused.

"Not we, just Koukól, our servant. He is a cripple and imbecile and can't pass a dog without taking it for his own. Father allowed him to keep them and care for them, as long as he does not forget his regular work. I think it's handy. Whenever I'm hungry but don't have time or the wish to go hunting, I come back here. Koukól won't ever notice one beast missing."

They were now directly in front of the kennel-door. The dogs had stopped with their barking. Now they all cowered at the back wall, whimpering softly. Obviously they knew Herbert or they felt that they were not humans, but evil creatures. Their heartbeats boomed in Alfred's ears and he thought he could even hear the blood pulsing through their veins. A part of him realized that the old, human Alfred would have had a hard time even imagining to hurt a sweet little puppy. But now he could not wait to stick his teeth into their soft flesh and to suck their blood, until not a drop was left.

So when Herbert opened the door and waved him inside, saying: "Just pick one," Alfred didn't need much persuasion. He chose the biggest of the altogether well-fed animals and didn't lose any time. The warm blood filled his stomach, reinforced his strengths and soothed the hunger. But still, it left him unsatisfied when he let up on the bloodless cadaver.

"Come and bring the carrion," Herbert ordered and Alfred left the kennel that was shut again by the count's heir. Alfred followed him to a place on the wall-walk, where the castle-wall fell down steeply and bordered on the thick forest, while only some feet from that a deep ravine opened up.

"Throw the dog into the trees over there. The wolves will take care of it," Herbert said and Alfred did as he was told. Then he strolled down the wall-walk and examined the surroundings of the castle. He paused above the cemetery and rested his arms on the parapet, while looking down.

"Are these all vampires?" he asked, referring to the creatures walking around beneath.

"Except for Koukól everyone is undead here. No human would survive long amongst us." A thin smile showed on Herbert's lips. He watched Alfred surreptitiously. He still did not know how to phrase his request, he still couldn't estimate the boy. He had to wait a bit longer and see.

"I would have guessed there were more," Alfred declared a short while later. "Won't everyone turn into a vampire when bitten?"

"You seem to have a good knowledge about vampires, how is that?" answered Herbert with a counter question.

Alfred considered for a moment – he didn't know if the light-blond vampire would like the truth. He decided on just leaving out a bit of the whole story.

"I have been an assistant to a professor, who studied the myth of vampires – well obviously it is not a myth," Alfred added grinningly.

"What did you study?"

"Natural sciences. What about the vampires now. Why are there so few?"

Herbert chuckled contentedly. Alfred was not merely a stupid lob, exactly what he was looking for. A consort who's not able to make conversation from time to time would get him bored rather quickly.

"Because we're drinking human blood only on rare occasions. To tell the truth, only my father and I - with some restrictions – have this privilege. Those down there will get human blood only once a year, at our midnight ball. Apart from that they have to hunt game in the woods."

"Why?"

"You have a lot of questions."

"That's me," Alfred answered and realized, that he had not changed completely after all. Obviously some traits of character of Human-Alfred had survived the transformation.

Herbert sighed, but also found the conversation interesting – and with a little skill of his he could twist it in the right direction.

"There are several reasons. Firstly: If all vampires hunted humans freely, this cemetery would soon burst at the seams, while in the human villages there would soon be no one left. Secondly: Human blood will strengthen a vampire more than anything else. And no vampire may be stronger than the vampire-lord."

"So you mean it was nothing but a coincidence that I got the worst of it? Maybe I should have gambled at one time or another," Alfred stated barrenly.

Herbert chuckled. It was a clear sound and Alfred realized that he took to the count's son.

"Well, honestly, it should not have been you. My father was in that inn because of the girl."

"Sarah?"

Herbert just shrugged his shoulders. "No idea. I stopped keeping a record on those girls long ago. My father wants to have a countess for every year's midnight ball. That's always a girl from the countship. He will invite her to the ball and before they start to dance, he will drink her blood, turning her. After the ball he'll have some more fun with her. If she got his interest, she'll be allowed to warm his bed for some more nights. If she was REALLY good, she'll be allowed to join the others down there afterwards," Herbert pointed down at the cemetery, "If not, then..." Herbert snapped his fingers.

Alfred understood and after looking down once more he said: "Couldn't have been that often that one was really good." Part of him was surprised, how emotionless this story left him. Human-Alfred would probably have fainted of shock and horror. But now he felt, as if this doing was the natural right of the count. It was a strange feeling.

Herbert just nodded. "I can tell you this much: Our community grows only very slowly. Aside from not being allowed to hunt humans, the count is also the only one who has the right to change a human into a vampire. Even I must not do that. Whenever I kill a human, I have to take care that they won't rise again. But father seldom sires new vampires – aside from the yearly girl for the ball. You're the first in a very long time who was allowed to rise again." Herbert silently congratulated himself for getting to the topic, which interested him the most right now.

Alfred looked at him surprised: "Why me?"

"I've been looking for a new consort for a good while now. Someone who – amongst other - things – makes this partly dull eternity more enjoyable for me. My father thought that you could be that one. He knows my taste. He was right."

Herbert granted Alfred a bonus point for not grimacing disgustedly. His expression didn't change at all, it was still very neutral.

But Alfred was intelligent enough to understand Herbert's more or less hidden hints in this sentence. He looked down again, where obviously ragged shapes roamed around.

"There was no one for you down there?" Even his voice sounded neutral, but Alfred was already thinking about Herbert's "offer".

"To the contrary. I sent the last down there about nine years ago, after I was done with him. You can forget them down there. They are apathetic, only live for this moment of the year, when they get a drop of human blood."

Alfred heard the menace in this sentence. He knew now that it was only a small step "down there". But he got the chance to postpone this moment. Obviously this should be some kind of privilege. The thought about the cemetery disquieted him somehow.

"Why do they stay? Why – don't they just go. Found their own communities, where they are lords themselves?" It was highly illogical to Alfred why anyone would cope with an existence like this.

"Because they can't. My father is their sire, he's the sire to all of us. We're bound to him. Just try to imagine for a moment to rebel against him."

"I don't even know him," Alfred punted, but Herbert ordered him to try it anyway. When he did, Alfred felt a rage flame up inside him, of which he didn't know the origin. Never would anyone bring harm to his lord and master, and much less himself.

Herbert turned to lean his back on the parapet, resting his elbows casually on the hard stone. "Our sire is here, that's why we are here too. We'd be free the moment my father ceased to exist. But not many would survive that incident. There is a reason, why a vampire-lord is a vampire-lord. He alone had had enough will for power, strength and self-assertion to get rid of his own sire, against all oppositions."

"Is this all that bounds you to your father?"

A soft smile spread over Herbert's face, when he shook his head. „He is not only my sire, he is my real father. There is more to our bonding. Vampires can feel love and sympathy, even if that is the exception."

Alfred nodded. Herbert, encouraged by the fact that Alfred had not yet declined, and that he was obviously smart enough to recognize coherencies, turned to the young man and laid a hand on his back as if by coincidence.

"Well, what do you say? Did my father choose wisely?"

Alfred had now had several minutes to think, but he still waited before giving a final answer to Herbert's request. But in truth he already had decided. The pros and cons were way too unbalanced. It was a pro of Herbert's request that he'd seem to be able to lead a privileged life, in contrary to the dull existence down at this cemetery. If he won Herbert's favor, he'd maybe also meet the goodwill of the count himself, and that could only be good. Herbert was educated and you could make good conversation with him. He had a feeling that he could cope with him, even if something told him that he would have to show strong nerves at times.

The cons were very obvious too. Alfred knew that Herbert wanted more than just his mere company. Only a few hours ago, the suggestion alone would have horrified him. Now he just felt indifferent. If anything, there maybe was a bit of curiosity. He had no experience, aside from some awkward kisses with a barmaid when he was out with his fellow students. If that was the price for a comfortable existence... He liked Herbert, he was neat. It was worth a try.

He could be down at the cemetery quickly enough...

"Since you'll go hunting with me, you'll get some human blood way more often than they..." Herbert lured him, when the waiting became too much.

If Alfred had needed a last pro argument, this was it. He had no idea what human blood tasted like, but his whole body vibrated only thinking about it. He guessed it was the thing a vampire yearned for most.

The young student lifted his gaze, which had been settled on the pitiable creatures between the graves and looked into Herbert's ice-blue eyes, that were so like those of his father.

"I'll try. I have no experience though."

Herbert smirked, while a knot unraveled in his guts. "With other men?"

Alfred couldn't help but grin himself. "At all," he answered.

Herbert took his hand from Alfred's back and laid the fingers under Alfred's chin. The young vampire liked the feeling of this. Herbert's face came close to his and the student was sure that the elder would kiss him now. But right before their lips met, Herbert paused. Alfred could almost feel the other's mouth and almost wished for Herbert to break this tension. But the count's son only whispered "I'll show you", rested for another moment and drew back.

Herbert turned and went towards the tower with the staircase that led back down into the castle. Alfred grinned, pushed himself from the parapet and following. He had a feeling that this could get amusing.

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During the next thirty minutes Herbert showed the more important castle-rooms to Alfred, before they descended into the family crypt.

"This is where my father spends the day-rest," Herbert explained, pointing to a huge, richly adorned stone-sarcophagus that rested in the middle of the crypt on a small gallery. "And this is mine," Herbert referred to the sarcophagus beside the first one.

"When will I meet your father?" Alfred asked. He had not seen a trace of his sire during the small tour through the castle.

"I guess tomorrow. He'll be quite late today." Herbert shoved the heavy stone-lid away and Alfred gazed into the coffin curiously. To his surprise it looked really comfortable.

"Where will I sleep?" he asked and looked around. He guessed that the other very old looking shrines weren't empty and that the inhabitants were unlikely to ever rise again.

"Well, in here of course. And it's time too, to go to rest. So – if you please..." Herbert showed him into his sarcophagus. To his delight Alfred climbed into the coffin without hesitating at all. Full of anticipation Herbert followed him. How long had he laid in there alone now? And it was so comfortable two by two. He couldn't understand his father, who wouldn't have it.

Herbert von Krolock's stone-sarcophagus was bigger and roomier than the wooden coffins out there at the cemetery. Still, two grown men, however slender they were, had to squeeze in there. Or, how Herbert prefered to call it: cuddle in there. Alfred didn't even try to avoid physical contact. Willingly he opened up his arms and allowed the count's son to snuggle in there. He wanted to be good in his new "job".

He really didn't want to be in that cemetery.

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The big shadow, that was Breda von Krolock, was sneaking through the lonely village-streets again. His faithful Mephisto waited at the edge of the forest for him and his prey. Soon he reached the inn again. All was quiet now. Did they discover the disappearing of the boy? Breda glanced around the corner of the house and looked up to the attic. The window of the bathroom was closed. So they knew. He'd have to be twice as careful now.

He took his familiar way up to the roof and went to the right chimney without hesitating. There was no need to stick his head into the duct, he could smell the holy water from afar. He made a nauseated grimace and was glad that he had no need to breathe, even though he usually did by custom.

So they took precautions and dappled the chimney with holy water. And he didn't know yet, what awaited him down the duct. This way was barred for him. But beneath the bathroom-window was a ledge and gracefully like a cat Breda climbed onto it. A short firm push against the window was enough. The wood could not withstand his vampiric powers and the window swung open. Breda paused on the sill and looked around the room.

His look fell on the door to the chamber of the inn-keeper's daughter, who he wanted to steal tonight. It had been barred earlier this evening already. New were the bulbs of garlic, one beside the other. Breda smirked. This was all the humans could think of? Holy water in the chimney and garlic at the door? How naive. And ridiculous.

Had the count looked above at the ceiling, or listened to the augmented heartbeats in the house, he would have had a different view of things – and had turned around on the spot to flee.

But almost 300 years of easy hunting had made him careless. Along with that came the pressure he felt. He had to take his prey tonight, so that she could be ready and willing for the ball tomorrow night.

He entered the room and went to the door, which was the only thing between the girl and himself anymore. He began to loosen the planks one by one. He just drew them away effortlessly, silently, with barely any sound. Finally his way was free and he put a hand to the handle and opened the door softly. It was lucky that Sarah always cared for this door to be oiled perfectly, since she needed it to sneak into the beloved bathroom, so it made no sound. He stepped into the small bedchamber and looked at the sleeping beauty, whose shimmery, coppery hair spread over the pillow.

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Sarah slept uneasily and always started when she drifted into sleep. She could not forget the blood-red bathwater. She understood Alfred to be dead. That was terrible. He has been so young. And so nice. So different from the other boys in the village. Educated and polite.

She was nervous because she didn't know what all the men had done in her chamber before she was allowed to go back in there and lay down. Frightened, her fingers closed around the iron crucifix the old professor had given to her. Her father had told her about a dozen times that she must not let go of it at all costs. All the night long. Worried she might lose it after all, her finger cramped from time to time.

Sarah had no idea what happened, but it scared her. Again she had drifted off and once again she started. Her first thought went to the crucifix, but she relaxed when she felt that the cold material was still between her fingers. Just as she wanted to give sleep another try, she heard a plank creak. Nervous, as she was, she sat bolt upright in her bed within milliseconds and stared with open eyes into the darkness.

There was a shadow in front of her bed and behind this shadow, the door to the bathroom was wide open. The door, her father had boarded up yesterday. That was just the final straw. Sarah sucked in breath and screamed as loud as she could.

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Breda felt the plank giving way under his foot, creaking softly. Soft, but enough to rip the girl out of her sleep. Suddenly she was sitting in bed and staring at him wide-eyed. When he saw her taking a deep breath, he wanted to rush to her and hush her, but it was like running into a wall. Too late he realized the small item in the girl's hands.

A crucifix? In the house of a Jew? In the Jew's screaming daughter's hands?

A trap. It was a damn trap. He had just enough time to come to this conclusion and turn around to run, but it was too late. Suddenly a huge net fell down from the ceiling and engulfed him completely.

TBC