Ericka swallowed thickly.
The woman took a few deep breaths, trying to ease the now steadily growing nerves in her body and the slight tremble that was starting to overtake her hands. Her heart was beating rapidly, ringing in her ears too loudly for her to make out the noise around her. She could process laughter, and the clinking of utensils on plates as the last bits of dinner were being scraped up from the platters. But it all sounded muffled to her. Because she couldn't focus on that. Her mind was elsewhere, distracted by the knots twisting in her stomach. Distracted by the chills running down her spine. Distracted by the words that were now swirling at the forefront of her mind.
"Ericka?"
The woman snapped to attention, somehow able to pull out of the daze to register the soft calling of her name. To her left at the dinner table was Drac. He glanced at her with a kind smile on his face, the look in his eyes that of question.
"Wh-what?" she asked, her voice sounding unusually thin. The woman held her breath, hoping he didn't notice, and was relieved to find that he seemed oblivious to the odd tone. He held up his chalice.
"Sweetheart, I was asking if you wanted a refill on your drink."
Ericka blinked, looking down at the rich red beverage that almost neared the bottom of the glass as well as her plate of unfinished scorpion tails. Both were tasty, but she found that she had long since lost her appetite. Ericka looked at Drac and shook her head. "It's okay, honeybat. I think I'm done for now."
Drac raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"
Ericka nodded, flinching as she heard a loud belch from her right side. She peered over apprehensively in a mix of disgust and uncertainty to the cyborg individual sitting with his own finished plate. Her great-grandfather. She didn't know how exactly he was able to eat without a functioning human stomach, but he still patted his tin body in satisfaction nonetheless, wiping his wrinkled lips with a napkin.
"Well, I'll say that's enough for me as well. Who knew monster food could be so delicious!"
Drac crossed his arms and smirked. "And who knew Van Helsings were so tolerable?"
A retort like that would usually be met with a scowl or vulgar reply, but instead Van Helsing laughed it off, Drac joining in. Ericka attempted to offer her own little chuckle, but found she just couldn't. She stood abruptly, the skidding of the chair against the tiled floor causing the attention to be drawn to her.
"I… um… I think I'm going to head upstairs and lie down…" she said, averting her gaze. "I'm, uh... feeling a little nauseous."
Van Helsing clicked his tongue. "I told you not to eat so many of the rat dogs!" he chided.
"Yeah, heh... right," was all she half-heartedly said in response before she quickly made her way out, ignoring the concerned look on Drac's face as she scampered away.
Once out in the hallway, Ericka felt a little more settled, exhaling slowly through her lips. That chilling feeling was still there though, and she rubbed her arms in the hopes that it would go away. But it didn't. She grit her teeth, cursing herself for even coming up with the idea in the first place. It hadseemedlike a good idea at the time. She had even sat down separately with the two men and managed to convince them to join her in a small family dinner for the three of them to have, with hopes that they could potentially have a peaceful time together and maybe even bond. Things were a little awkward at first when the actual dinner took place, but soon enough conversation had started, through Ericka's prompting.
She could admit to herself that she was quite surprised to see just howwellthe two ended up getting along after all, chatting and laughing about old chases and crazy antics together like they were old friends instead of bitter enemies for so long. But Ericka wished the conversation had not taken the turn it did.
She sighed, clenching her fists. Ofcourseit did. It would have, naturally. That was how they met, and why they crossed paths in the first place. Drac never went out of his way to seek out her great-grandfather or any of their Van Helsing ancestors on his own. But they on the other hand had. Why? Two words she so dreaded.The Legacy.
Not the luxurious cruise ship that she had grown up on, but the suffocating way of life that her great-grandfather had inherited from his father, who inherited it from his father, who had inherited it from his mother, and so on. Even when Ericka believed that it was her destiny, she still found it frustrating and annoying. To be constantly reminded of something she was supposed to do to uphold the family name. And, as it so painfully proved during that dinner, it was even worse after she realized the wrong in her way of thinking. She could feel that knot grow tighter and tighter in her stomach as she recalled the conversation, remembering the way her great-grandfather had said that one comment that had put her in a frenzy so lightheartedly and yet with that air of scrutiny that implied it was anything but casual at all.
"Over ten generations of Van Helsings… to end upcanoodlingwith Dracula. Who would have guessed! Ha ha!"
Dracula had been too flustered by the comment to take note of anything else being said at that moment. Ericka had been a bit flustered at first too, until she noted that certain gleam in her great-grandfather's eye that betrayed his true feelings on the matter. She had seen it plenty of times growing up, and knew that he wasnotvery amused on the matter. The appetite had vanished shortly after, and the pit of anxiety had taken over full force. For it was the look she was given when she had failed. First given when she had failed to fire a weapon at its target during practice. Given again when she incorrectly discerned the difference between a phantom and a ghoul in his book,The Art of Monster Hunting. And now given again as she failed to do what she had been raised to do for thirty-five years of her life, her sole purpose as she had come to know it - failing to fulfill the legacy.
A headache formed in her head as she tried to reason. No... she didn'twantto fulfill that legacy. Her great-grandfather didn't want to do any of that anymore either... right? Even if he did, she wouldn't be convinced to participate in it ever again. But then... where did that leave her? What was her purposenow?Ericka lifted her head up, hoping her eyes would catch sight of something that could temporarily distract her thoughts, but grimaced when she saw the portraits that lined the wall. TheVan Helsingfamily portraits. She had completely forgotten that one of the small requests that her great-grandfather had made, aside from calling dibs on the basement as his place of residence, was to have those portraits up on the wall. Ofcoursethis had to be the hallway she wandered into. She peered up at the faces of her elders, frozen in time with their serious expressions, seeming to assess her judgmentally even in their stillness. Her head involuntarily began to shrink down between her shoulders, her teeth catching her bottom lip in a nervous nibble…
… And a touch upon her arm jerked her out of her trance to the presence of the newcomer behind her.
The instinct of self-defense still in her, Ericka grabbed the arm with great force and, giving a fierce cry, launched the weight over her body and into the wall. She took a karate pose, but gasped in embarrassment when she saw that the intruder had only been Dracula.
"Oh, my goodness! Drac, I - I'm so sorry, here let me help you. Are you okay?" She bent down, assisting the dazed vampire to get him rightside up. He stood, stars in his eyes, and dusted his clothes free of wrinkles.
"Ah, yes, yes, I'm okay, my love." He then winced and rubbed his head. "Boy... you really know how to bust a move, sweetheart..."
Ericka blushed. "Heh, yeah, sorry about that... again..."
"Eh, no worries, mouse," he assured her. "I, eh, actually wanted to make sure thatyouwere all right," Drac said, grasping her hands delicately in his. He looked deeply into her eyes. "Areyou all right?"
Ericka looked down. "I think so… Ihopeso…"
He began to run his thumb over her knuckles, not convinced. "What's the matter, sweetfangs? You can tell me."
Ericka stayed silent, so Dracula tried to guess.
"Were the scorpion tails too hot? I can tell the chefs to cut out some of the spices next time..."
Ericka shook her head.
Drac pondered, and then smirked. "Was, eh,Itoo hot?" he asked, putting on a cocky smile.
Ericka rolled her eyes and giggled. "Really, Drac?"
Drac shrugged. "It is possible, isn't it?" he asked teasingly.
She shoved him on the shoulder and shook her head. Drac sighed and became a little more serious. "Was it Van Helsing?"
Ericka stiffened. "Y-yes..." she admitted softly. She peered up at him with big, blue eyes that were flooded with apprehension. "Drac, I... I... I don't know..."
"What don't you know, my love?" he asked, his voice soothing and an ear perked to attention to hear every word his beloved would speak.
Ericka huffed out a frustrated sigh. "What am I doing here, Drac?"
The Count tilted his head, a confused frown etched onto his face as he didn't quite understand her question. "You're here because you live with us at the hotel. Because I want you here."
"No, Drac," Ericka explained. "I mean… what am I doinghere, here?" She pointed behind him to the wall with the Van Helsing portraits. "I know it was crazy and stupid, and completely wrong, but for so long I was convincedthatwas my destiny. And now..." She trailed off, feeling silly to be breaking down with a midlife crisis in front of her zing. But she couldn't help it. Shakily, she continued. "Who am I Drac?"
Drac softened. His heart ached for the woman. For so many years he had wondered when the Van Helsings would let go of their petty hatred. And here was Ericka, able to do just that… but also struggling to understand her place in the world now that she had. He himself had to put that same trust back in humans and reassess his own views long ago when that certain traveling redheaded boy came wandering into his hotel. He had needed Johnny and Mavis to help him out in that regard, and this time, Ericka was looking up to him for guidance, her face as innocent as that of a young girl desperate to find acceptance.
Gently hooking his fingers under her chin, he tilted her head up and kissed her softly, easing some of the tensions. "Ericka..." he whispered once releasing her lips, "My sweet blood orange... you don't know how lucky you are. You're the beautiful little sunflower who's helped create awonderfullegacy..."
Ericka scoffed in disbelief. "I wouldn't exactly call wanting to kill you and every monster a 'wonderful' legacy, Drac," she quipped dryly.
Drac chuckled and caressed her cheek. "No, no, my darling. I mean, ourmonster-humanlegacy... remember?"
At the mention of it, Ericka paused.Oh, yes. How could she have forgotten? That brave moment back on the cruise when, in addition to declaring their zing loudly and proudly, they had also gone to declare the start of a new legacy - one of humans and monsters, and of the newfound peace between the Van Helsings and Draculas. She eyed Drac warily. "You helped with that too, though…"
"Maybe," Drac agreed. "But, honeybat, it wasyouwho gave it life." His eyes shone, and he leaned close to press his forehead against hers. "It takes courage to fight a monster… especially one as handsome as me…" He paused, relishing the small crack of a smile he had instigated in Ericka before continuing, "... but it also takes courage to stand up against what's wrong and take control of your future. To change your fate, for both yours and everyone else's sake." He gently squeezed her hand. "Foroursake."
Ericka listened carefully, letting his words seep into her mind like a comforting balm. The anxiety was slowly, but surely, washing away from her being as she thought everything over, taking his points into account and realizing with much gratitude that shecouldtake credit for all that he'd claimed. She really was leaving something behind... something worthwhile. Something that brought her great pride at knowing she accomplished, and proved she was Ericka - the Van Helsing who'd beat the odds and become the full fledged womanshewanted to be. Not who all of her ancestors had wanted her - wereforcingher - to be, not who her great-grandfather had tried to turn her into.
Ericka blinked.My great-grandfather…
She shifted her eyes to the wall of frames behind Drac's head, realizing something else with much disdain.
"Yeah… but I don't think my great-grandfather will find that enough to have my own picture up there," she said, gesturing to the pictures.
He was about to dismiss the matter, but faltered upon seeing the hurt look in her eyes. Shewantedone, not as a tribute to the Van Helsing legacy, but because she actually liked the idea of having a painting depicting her in all her beauty. Thankfully, he knew how to fix that.
"Well, I say that youdodeserve one. And lucky for you, devil chops, I can be of help..."
Ericka arched a skeptical brow, but said no more as he led them off.
It was approximately an hour and a half later that Drac straightened up from his position in front of a canvas and gave the thumbs up to Ericka. She gratefully sighed a breath of relief and plopped down onto the couch in his study, clasping her hands together in anticipation. The woman watched as Drac dipped his brush in a varnish, coating the surface of the new painting he'd created in its protective gloss and then setting the tool down. He stepped back and smiled approvingly. "I think it's lovely," he stated confidently. "But I'll letyoumake that final decision, my love."
With that, he turned the piece around, and what Ericka saw took her breath away. She could have very easily told him to not trouble himself, or that he could get the same result if he snapped a picture of her and used the phone's paint filter… but she was glad he'd done this for her. It was a simple portrait of her in her classic blazer, hand on her hip and her head tipped a little to the side. It was only a painting, sure, and yet, he'd captured her so perfectly, with lifelike accuracy in the lines and color and that playful glint in her eye wearing an expression of absolute confidence. A slight smirk that had graced her lips, as it was in the present moment while she looked it over and hugged the wonderful man she called her zing.
"Drac, honey... I can't even begin to tell you how much this means to me," she murmured softly into his shoulder. He smiled and held onto her as she leaned further into him, rubbing a soothing hand up and down her back.
"Anything for you, sweetheart."
Ericka hummed contently. "So when were you going to tell me you were an artist?"
Drac shrugged. "I eh... guess I was just going to have you find out whenever it came up. Like now."
"Ohh..." she said, then she smiled. "Well, can I find out if you're any good atotherstuff, too?"
Drac grinned, his eyes shining with mirth as he already had a feeling where this topic was heading. "What kind of things, my sweet?"
Ericka leaned up and kissed him lightly. "You know…" she drawled suggestively. "Other stuff, like, uh..." She reached up to cup her hands against his ear, the words she whispered into them making his eyes widen and his cheeks flush such a red that he could have been mistaken for human.
He stammered something incomprehensible before speaking somewhat clearly. "Wh-why don't we f-find out, my love! The painting needs to dry up anyway."
Ericka giggled giddily, feeling so much better than she ever had before as she and Drac began to walk hand in hand towards the privacy of his bedroom. She cast one last look over her shoulder at the portrait, admiring the beauty of it and sitting well with the knowledge that she not only had made her own future, but indeed her very own legacy.