Got season one of Young Dracula on while I write this, they were so little!
And I realised someone has been rather missing from this fic. Shall be rectified.
-YD-
"See? This is an entire volume dedicated to nomads from the years 1200 to 1250."
Ingrid rolled her eyes as Vlad showed her the book. She was less than enthralled, clearly.
"Not helpful to me right now is it?"
"Well it's proof I wasn't lying about the records. And thankfully, my father is obsessed with keeping tabs on everyone else."
"Why? Not that I'm... complaining. Ew. I actually meant that."
Her look of scandalised distaste made Vlad want to fall into fits of laughter, but he repressed it. Transformation looming, setting Ingrid off could have some quite explosive consequences. Composing himself after biting the inside of his cheek to keep quiet, Vlad sat down.
"Old age breeds paranoia. That and my dad has a habit of staking the neighbours."
"So how did you end up here?"
"Angry peasant mob. Dad drained the village elders. It was a little too in-your-face for the locals to keep sweeping under the rug like the six hundred years of disappearances before. And back when he went hunting with my uncle? They could drain a hundred a night. Each. That was one of my bedtime stories as a kid."
"Gross."
"Indeed. Who is this young master Vlad?"
Ingrid just about fell out of her chair when the stuffed toy began talking, wheeling itself over to where the teenagers were sat amongst many an old tome.
"Zoltan! We've talked about this."
He'd once spoken in front of Mrs Branagh, and Robin had swiftly wheeled him away while Vlad babbled about pre-set phrases until the woman was distracted by a pot of tea to brew. Ingrid continued to stare at Zoltan like she was expecting the hallucination to disappear any minute.
"Your stuffed dog talks."
"Stuffed hell hound! If you don't mind" Vlad almost had to bite his fist to not laugh when Ingrid immediately scowled at Zoltan for correcting her so quickly "and yes, master Vlad, but as you were discussing vampirism with this breather, I did not think normal rules applied."
Ingrid reached out a pale hand and poked Zoltan, as though checking he was really there.
"What the..."
"It's a... vampire thing. Alchemy. Death isn't the end. He's a pretty normal toy for a young vampire. One of the other clans I met, their son had an actual stuffed werewolf. His father had killed it. Cruel sort of trophy."
Shaking her head, Ingrid settled on ignoring Zoltan instead, suddenly riveted by a book on fifteenth century blood fueds.
"Zoltan, this is Ingrid. Friend from school."
"Who knows you are the spawn of Dracula?"
He couldn't tell Zoltan too much, else it would just get back to his dad. Not that the stuffed hound and the prince of darkness had a lot of conversations, but the risk was there.
"She's into vampires. I said I'd show her some stuff. Leave us for a bit and there's a squeaky bat in it for you."
"Ahhh. I see."
Zoltan gave him a very unsubtle wink, then wheeled himself away with Ingrid still eyeing him suspiciously.
"Weird."
"Right, right. Future member of the living dead club who can turn into a bat and explodes in sunlight is fine, but a talking stuffed toy is what's weird?"
"Shut up."
Vlad busied himself with a book - the likelihood they would find the exact thing they were looking for today was unlikely, but it was a start and Ingrid could peruse the heavier works on vampire physiology, the transformation and so on while he scoured the histories.
"Shapeshifting? Is that for real?"
Nodding, Vlad tried to drum that particular vampire lesson up, remembering Robin asking loudly if Vlad would be able to shift into a 'hot girl vampire'. That had raised a few eyebrows...
"Uh, sort of. You have to be taught it by someone who already can, but it's really dark, dark energy. Most of those who master the art go completely insane in the process. Most vampires are satisfied with bat form and smoke."
"Smoke?"
"Handy in a fight. Enemy has hands on you and poof! You're gone. Rematerialise behind them. Fangs. Neck. You get the picture."
Ingrid turned a page in her book, then looked back up at him.
"And these are all things that I can do?"
"I think so. I don't see any reason why you shouldn't be. The transformation is vampire dominating human side, so it should be as absolute as any other. You might crave blood less or take longer to master your powers, I really don't know. But you will be able to transform, and that should bring everything over with it."
"A lot of uncertainty."
"Dimidius information is scant, for obvious reason. I'm biting blind here, but I am reasonably confident you'll be fine once we figure out your clan."
Vlad knew Ingrid was trusting him, potentially with her entire future, but he dare not give her false hope. He got the feeling Ingrid would know if he was lying if he tried anyway. So a reasonable assurance was all he could offer, aside from the attempts to search for her father.
As he suspected, he had no luck with the books that day, but they had time and he had as much information as he would probably ever get for Ingrid's mothers anonymous tryst at a goth fesitval. Ingrid took off around mid-afternoon, silent and cool right up until she kissed him goodbye. It was brief and surprisingly chaste, undemanding, but Vlad's heart still turned over in his chest in a pleasant mix of joy and shock, watching Ingrid glare up at the sun before extending her parasol to protect herself from the bright orb above.
Heading back upstairs, Vlad lay back on his bed, mind still reeling from what had happened that day. It was... wow. Definitely better than anything he could ever do alone. And... and... the fact it happened at all was just an enormous surprise. Ok, his mind was definitely going in circles, revolving around the way Ingrid kissed him, bit him, touched him.
Glancing to the calendar, he knew time was ticking, but there was a consistent level of hope. Maybe he ought to figure out where his dad had hidden it, and take Ingrid to go see the Blood Mirror.
-YD-
Hmm, I wonder if putting Ingrid in front of the Dracula Mirror is such a good idea Vladdy boyyyyy?