Castlevania: Lisa's Last Words
Chapter 9: Another problem
As the nocturnal veil descended, Dracula emerged from his slumber, finding Beth reclining comfortably beside him, her arm draped gracefully across his chest. At some point during his repose, he had enveloped her with his cape, a gesture of protection and warmth. He found himself reluctant to rouse her, but tasks demanded attention, and the night was young.
"Hello, Mr. Dracula..." Beth said groggily as she awoke, her voice husky with sleep. "What are we doing tonight?"
"First, I shall inspect the meat you've prepared and discard any spoiled portions. Then..." Dracula paused, collecting his thoughts like a connoisseur savoring a fine wine. "I shall find a more suitable place for you to reside." He noted, adding, "What about the village?"
"They do not like me there. They beat me when I ask for food," Beth replied, her voice tinged with melancholy, a poignant reminder of the hardships she had faced.
"They shall do so no longer, I promise you that," Dracula vowed, his tone resolute, a declaration of protection and safety under his care.
Together, they exited the cave, and Dracula assessed the meat, his eyes scanning the provisions with a practiced gaze. As expected, much of it was ruined, but enough remained to sustain Beth for a couple of weeks, a testament to her resourcefulness and determination. Beth gathered materials for a fire, and Dracula attempted to ignite it with hellfire, but it didn't manifest, a rare occurrence that piqued his interest. "Odd. I must be more attentive." He focused, and a fireball finally erupted, igniting the campfire, a warm and welcoming beacon in the darkness. "Perhaps I need to feed soon," Dracula mused, a hint of a growl underlying his words.
With Dracula's assistance, Beth cooked her meal, the aroma of roasted meat filling the air, a savory reminder of the simple pleasures in life. As she ate, Dracula's thoughts wandered, his mind a labyrinth of memories and experiences. He couldn't recall the taste of ordinary food; as a vampire, he no longer needed such sustenance, and taste was lost to him, a sensory deprivation he had long grown accustomed to. He remembered trying bread in his early days as a vampire, out of curiosity, a novelty that had quickly worn off. It was flavorless, and when he swallowed, he quickly regurgitated it, along with the blood he'd consumed that day, an unpleasant experience he had no desire to repeat.
"Mr. Dracula, can I do that too?" Beth asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement, a childlike wonder that was both endearing and poignant.
"Hmm? What, child?" Dracula was drawn back from his thoughts by her question, his gaze refocusing on the young girl beside him.
"Can I do..." Beth gestured as if opening an imaginary cape, just as Dracula had, a mimicry that was both impressive and unsettling. "That fire thing?" Her face glowed with anticipation.
"If you possess the talent for magic, yes, but it's an uncommon ability," Dracula clarified, his voice a gentle correction, a guiding hand on the path to knowledge. "However, hellfire is a skill exclusive to creatures of the night," he added, a reminder of the boundaries that separate humans from the supernatural. "Mastering magic requires extensive study and dedication."
Beth continued eating, then asked, "Study? What's that?" a question that was both innocent and revealing, a reminder of the vast chasm that existed between her world and Dracula's.
"Reading books on magic, to begin," Dracula explained, his voice patient and encouraging, a mentor guiding his protégée through the labyrinth of knowledge.
Beth tilted her head, her expression tinged with sadness, a look that was both heartbreaking and understandable. "Read? I can't read," she admitted, a confession that wasn't unexpected.
Dracula sighed, unsurprised, an irritated breath. The church and nobility had long withheld literacy from the common folk, a cruel and oppressive tactic that had kept the masses in ignorance and subjugation. "I shall have to teach you how to read, among other things, but not just yet," Dracula said, his voice a gentle promise, a commitment to guide her through the complexities of knowledge. "Finish your meal, and we'll proceed."
After a moment, Dracula spoke again, his voice low and measured. "Beth, we should depart this place soon." Beth ceased eating, her gaze fixed on him with an unsettling intensity, her eyes burning with a fierce determination.
"Leave? I can't go yet," she said firmly, her voice unwavering, a testament to her unyielding resolve.
"Why not?" Dracula asked, perplexed, his brow furrowed in concern.
"I can't go until Mom comes back from the sky. Mom's been visiting Dad for a while, but she promised she'd see me again," Beth said, her conviction unyielding as stone, a reminder of her unshakable faith in her mother's return.
Dracula shook his head, his expression somber, a mask of sorrow and regret. "Your mother won't–" He began, his voice heavy with the weight of truth.
"No! Mom always tells me the truth. If she said she will come back, Mom WILL come back!" Beth exclaimed, her sharp tone silencing Dracula, a rebuke that cut through the air like a knife. He sighed and watched her eat, considering her words, his mind swirling with the deilmma. Despite his efforts, Beth still didn't understand that her mother would never return, and thus, she refused to leave.
"Then we will remain, for now," Dracula decided, his voice a gentle concession, a compromise born of compassion and understanding. They needed better shelter, but the village was not an option, given their dislike for Beth and lack of space, a cruel and unforgiving reality that left them few choices. Most of Dracula's wealth was stored at Castlevania, and he didn't want to risk exposure by flaunting his resources to purchase a home, a decision born of caution and discretion. Building a shelter was a feasible task, but it required time and men. "Not men," Dracula corrected himself, a wry smile playing on his lips. First, he needed to find blood, then locate the local graveyard, a place where the departed rested, and the living found solace. Humans died regularly, so there should be plenty of deceased individuals to use, a grim reminder of the cycle of life and death.
"Beth, I'll return soon. Wait at the cave until I come back," Dracula said, his voice a gentle promise, a reassurance that he would return, a promise he intended to keep. Dracula transformed into a wolf and quickly departed to find prey, easily satiating his bloodlust, a primal and ancient need that coursed through his veins. For now, he chose to keep his presence unknown to the village, a strategic decision born of caution and prudence, but his next move might attract attention, a risk he was willing to take.
"Come, Beth, you shall witness a practical application of the Dark Arts," Dracula said, appearing suddenly behind her, his voice low and mysterious, a hint of excitement and anticipation underlying his words.
"Okay, Mr. Dracula!" Beth exclaimed, getting to her feet excitedly, her eyes shining with a childlike wonder, a look that was both innocent and endearing. She didn't know what the Dark Arts were, but she was eager to see what Dracula would show her, a trust that was touching. Taking her hand, Dracula led her back toward the village, where she would witness mysteries beyond her wildest imagination.
"Where are the graves to be found?" he asked.
"I'll show you! I don't go there much. There's nothing there but old stones with a bunch of stuff on them," Beth said, leading the Count to a small graveyard, a place of rest and remembrance, a reminder of the transience of life and the eternity of death.
The graveyard was as Beth had described, with ancient headstones bearing fading inscriptions and newer wooden crosses marking more recent burials. "This will suffice, child. Rest and watch." Beth obediently sat on a nearby stone as Dracula prepared himself, his eyes gleaming with an otherworldly intensity.
"I, Dracula, Son of the Devil, call upon thee in the land of the dead..." The edges of Dracula's cape began to morph and move as if alive, like dark tendrils of smoke. "Hear my call to the restless spirits of the underworld..." Dark clouds formed above, and an unholy darkness spread from the Count, shrouding every grave in the graveyard.
"Arise and serve me... ARISE!" Skeletal hands thrust out of the ground at Dracula's command, as if summoned from the very depths of the earth. Beth's face was a mix of wonder and bewilderment, her eyes wide with excitement. She shrieked with joy as a dozen of the dead rose from the graveyard, their bony frames stark against the moonlit sky.
With a mere thought, Dracula stripped the dead of any remaining flesh, leaving only skeletal forms that moved with an unnatural jerkiness. The dead had no expression, only deep red glowing dots where their eyes would be, like embers of a malevolent fire. They turned to the Dark Lord and bowed to their knees, awaiting orders with an unblinking obedience.
Beth clapped loudly, drawing Dracula's attention away from his new servants. "Wow, Mr. Dracula! You're really good at magic!" Dracula looked away sheepishly, embarrassed but pleased to be praised without fear or reverence for once, a rare and novel experience.
Turning back to his skeletal servants, he set them to work, their bony forms moving with an unnatural efficiency. These beings would work tirelessly, day and night, for as long as the Dark Lord desired, bound to his will by unholy powers.
Beth showed no fear, only fascination, at the remains of the dead, her gaze fixed on the skeletal forms with a childlike wonder. "Most would fear what you see here tonight, child," Dracula noted, his voice low and husky.
"Why? You're good, so if you did it, it must be a good thing, right?" Dracula chuckled at Beth's response, a dry, mirthless sound.
"I have done much evil in my time, young one. Do not think of me as good, for I am not," Dracula admitted, his eyes gleaming with a dark intensity.
Beth shrugged, her trust in Dracula unwavering. "You aren't bad to me." Beth looked at Dracula trustingly, her eyes shining with a childlike innocence, a beacon of hope in the midst of darkness.