CHAPTER 8

Von Krolock awoke in the morning with an impressive erection. With no candles lit, it was pitch black. He reached for Sarah in the darkness and made love to her quickly but intensely. He was in a better frame of mind with the light of day, so to speak, the light he never saw. He didn't know why his mood had turned so morbid last night. Too much moralizing, too much philosophizing. He had indulged in so much self-reflection and self-doubt since Sarah's arrival, it was driving him mad.

Don't think so much. She wants you as much as you want her. She wants you to do it. She wants eternity with you.

Sarah's breakfast was brought up. She had requested coffee, something Von Krolock had never drunk in his mortal life, coffee being unknown in Europe at the time. He had sent his cook to the village to procure it. He had also ensured it was served with cool water from the well, as he had heard how bitter coffee could be. To his surprise, Sarah drank the whole cup, then cheerfully left him for her bath.

He lounged on the bed and took up the cup, sniffing. Awful. How could she drink it? He certainly wasn't missing anything there. His eyes traveled to the glass filled with water. Water was as essential to humans as blood was to vampires. He put the glass to his nose. Nothing. Did water even have a smell? He couldn't remember.

Nothing was more pure to ingest though. The bread he spit out was too dense. He wondered if he could tolerate plain water. Cautiously, almost guiltily, he put the glass to his closed mouth. He let the water slosh against his lips. This was not threatening so far. After all, he rinsed with water, cleaned his teeth with it.

He opened his mouth and took the smallest of sips. He swallowed and waited. Nothing. He took another, bigger sip, and this was enough to activate his taste buds. Memories came rushing back. Water from his well in the summer after a day out hunting. Bread and water when they fasted on holy days.

He drank some more. It was glorious. Before he knew it, he finished the whole glass. He wanted more, so he took the pitcher and drank directly from it. He consumed it all. He waited some more. Would he vomit it up or would some other evil consequence befall him?

He felt no ill effects so far, on the contrary, he felt extraordinarily refreshed. Was it better than blood? Well...no. Nothing was, but it felt so clean and light as it slid down his throat. He would try again tomorrow and see if he could build up a tolerance.

Over the next few days, Von Krolock grew bolder. He would still feed at night but before going up to his bedchamber to make love to Sarah, he would steal into his kitchens. It had been centuries since he had ventured there last. He quickly located the larder. There was a variety of options to choose from, as it was necessary not only to keep provisions for Sarah but also for his human servants. He had discovered long ago that vampires made dreadful and unreliable domestics. He had been employing humans for at least three hundred years. In that time, the villagers had learned to covet the opportunity to work for Von Krolock. He paid and treated them well, it was steady, dependable work, and he never once attacked them. They had his word on that. What sense would there be in breaking it? He would just have to replace them. That said, he saw to it that he never employed younger, attractive women. If temptation proved too much and he transformed them or merely took them to bed, he would grow a reputation and no one would work for him anymore.

He was careful not to take too much. No one should suspect. It was ridiculous, really. He was lord and master here, he could take what he wanted. But, no. He must be especially careful that Sarah should not know. Until he had seen this out and was able to ascertain what was happening to him, why this was happening to him, he must guard his secret from her.

He filched a strip of dry bacon and wrapped it in his handkerchief. He was especially curious about meat and he wondered if his body would reject it. Animal flesh was the closest thing to blood. Would it satisfy him? He wanted to wait until he was actually hungry and needing to feed. Then he would try. Then he would know.

Sarah was asleep. It was one of his greatest pleasures, rousing her to love, after his bath. He placed the bacon in the cabinet and then thought better of it. He had only sucked two hens dry from a barnyard. It hadn't been enough but he couldn't bring himself to feed further. Of late, he had not been experiencing much gratification following a feed, whether he feasted on humans or animals. And he was eager to get back to Sarah. He wanted her desperately tonight, more than usual. He ordered his bath drawn and sank into it gratefully. He lay back but he couldn't truly relax. With every passing day and night, he was feeling more and more altered, and he could no longer deny this. He could scarcely put into words what this entailed. Was it more physical than mental? Was it both? Was he losing his mind?

He had a sneaking suspicion that Sarah was the cause. He had no proof of this but he merely had to list everything that had occurred since abducting her: his pallor had changed, at least according to Ludwig, and his reaction was so genuine, Von Krolock knew it to be true. He could now smell all food and wine. He had been drinking water for days with no ill effects whatsoever. His need to feed was growing less intense, but he knew he must feed nonetheless to survive.

He sat up, took a reckless first bite of the bacon, and chewed. It was utterly bizarre how his teeth remembered to do this. The salty taste was Heaven. He devoured the rest as if was the most natural thing. And it was. He was the unnatural one.

Von Krolock sank back into the water, the taste of bacon lingering in his mouth. It was then that a thought resurfaced that he had tried repeatedly to repress.

He was now not convinced that on that horrible night four hundred years ago, he had actually been fully transformed. When he had begged her not to drain him, did she cease before the transformation was complete? Was this the reason he could retract his fangs, weep, choose his victims with discretion, and indeed, fall in love as he had with Sarah?

There was no one to ask. Not God, vampire, or mortal. But in the end, his transformation had been thorough enough; his fangs were a constant reminder.

When he finally crept into bed, Sarah was awake, he could tell. There was an uneasy silence before she spoke.

"How much longer?" She whispered and he knew her meaning.

"A month...or less...when the first snow falls."

She exhaled shakily and he consoled her with a deep kiss.