Curse of Dracula

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Curse of Dracula Page 23

by Kathryn Ann Kingsley


  He still found the need to kick the dusty fanged skull of the vampiress as he walked away. It crumbled to ash and fell to pieces as it rolled away.

  Stupid vampires. Stupid demons. Stupid Dracula.

  Stupid Boston.

  Eddie wanted to go home.

  Maxine woke up slowly. She was so utterly comfortable; she didn’t want to move. She curled into what was lying beneath her. It was cold, smooth, hard yet soft, like stone covered in velvet. When she nuzzled into it, enjoying the sensation of its chill surface against her warm cheek, it chuckled.

  Right.

  Yes.

  That.

  She yawned and stretched, feeling a hard surface close to her back. She did not need to open her eyes and see the pitch darkness she suspected surrounded her. She knew where they were. Half-awake, she had less of a filter than perhaps she should. “Why do you sleep in a coffin, Vlad?”

  “Hm?”

  “You do not burn in the sunlight. So why sleep in a coffin at all? Certainly, someone of your considerable height would enjoy more room to stretch out.”

  “You have asked me this once before.”

  “And you gave me a half-answer. You claimed it was the light that troubled you. I think you are more than capable of purchasing shutters. So why?”

  He was silent.

  Fearing she had committed a misstep without realizing it, she placed her palm to his bare chest. “I am sorry. I did not mean to offend.”

  His hand laced over hers, and he let out a slow breath. “You have done no such thing. I merely am deciding upon how to phrase my response.”

  His arm was slung across her lower back. The strength and the power that burned in him, even if it did not beat in his heart, was soothing.

  “I am a dead soul trapped in an immortal body. While I may never be at peace, I am dead all the same. One must have both halves to be truly alive. To be as I am, neither one nor the other, I am as good as a corpse. I sleep in a coffin to remind myself of what I truly am. I have spent eons attempting to pretend that I am a man. I have dressed as them, lived amongst them, and hidden my ghastly nature. It is a lie. I do this to remind myself of what I am and that it cannot be forgotten or forgiven.”

  “You do not wish for forgiveness? I thought…”

  “I do not want forgiveness from you, Maxine. I ask to be loved as I am. I shall never ask to be absolved. Such a thing is impossible and would never come to pass.” The hand that rested over hers moved to wander through her hair, combing the strands through his sharp-nailed fingers.

  Tragic creature.

  “Save your pity for someone who deserves it.”

  She swore under her breath and sighed. “I do hate that you can hear my thoughts.”

  “Turnabout is fair play.”

  “As you’ve said. I—” Her stomach growled, interrupting their conversation. They both laughed at the sound.

  “You missed breakfast. I should not be surprised. You mortal creatures and your love of food.”

  Suddenly, she realized she had been remiss in her manners. “Oh! The chocolates. Thank you for them.”

  “Hm? Ah. Yes. I thought you might enjoy them.”

  She smiled and placed a kiss against his bare chest. “No one has ever gifted me chocolates.”

  “Truly? Is it not what mortal gentlemen are expected to provide? Flowers, dinner, and sweets?”

  “And when do you suppose I have been courted by a mortal gentleman?”

  He paused. “Touché.” He shifted, and she heard the creak of the coffin lid as he swung it up on its hinge. With it came the introduction of light into their small space. She was in her shift, and he was shirtless. A thick blanket was pulled up over them, and it was shockingly warm despite his lack of body heat. She pushed herself up to sit in the space between his hip and the wall of the coffin.

  She traced her hand over his chest thoughtfully.

  “What is it?”

  “It is still a marvel to me that you exist. Vampires. Monsters.” She shook her head. “Demons. I never figured them to be real. Even with all I have seen, I know I have not begun to witness it all. I know there are horrors that live inside this nightmare of yours that you have yet to show me.”

  He caught her fingers and lifted them to his lips. He sat up as he kissed them. “Are you afraid?”

  “No…I only hope I am that which you wish me to be. But I do not know yet that I am.”

  He smiled and gently urged her back down to him. She met his lips eagerly with her own. She had come to desire his touch. More than that, it had begun to bring her comfort and solace.

  Her stomach growled again.

  He pulled back from her. “Yes, yes. Let us feed the great beast before it consumes us all.” He climbed gracefully from the coffin and helped her step out of it.

  Looking around the room curiously, she was shocked to see that she recognized some of it. Most notably, her wardrobe stood against one wall. And there, on a small table, was a music box. She walked up to it quickly, snatching it into her hands. She opened the lid. Sure enough…it was hers. The one her father had made before he had died and before she was born. “You…saved it.”

  “I had Walter gather your things from your house the night I unleashed Hell upon this city.” Dracula replied nonchalantly. As if it were a trivial thing. “It thought perhaps you would wish it salvaged.”

  “Very much so. I would lecture you that collecting my personal items and arranging them in your bedchambers is presumptuous at best, but I find myself incredibly grateful that you saw fit to save this. My cards?”

  “Your tarot deck is in your wardrobe.”

  She would have been sad to part with them. “Then I suppose I find myself doubly grateful and only once annoyed. So I shall say thank you, Vlad Dracula, for your kindness in rescuing my things.”

  “You should say nothing at all, for while you are twice grateful, it is I who upended your life in the first place. Therefore, we are in balance.”

  She smiled. “I suppose, yes.”

  When she looked at him, he was dressed, finishing the knot of his cravat. “I will fetch Walter and inform him that you are in need of breakfast. I shall return shortly.” And with that, he seemed to vanish into his own shadow and slip underneath the door.

  Strange man.

  Stranger creature.

  Yet she smiled at the thought of him. He was kind and cruel. Temperate and ruled by rage. Tender and violent. He was neither half, nor was he truly both. He was one thing to be certain—complicated.

  She would happily tell him that she accepted him for what he was this instant and have him whisk them all away from here. Except for one small thing that remained, one small matter that had to be resolved.

  Alfonzo Van Helsing.

  Alfonzo did not know when his screaming ceased to sound like him. When the noises he made were no longer recognizable as his own voice. They merged with the pain until they were one and the same. It wasn’t a sound anymore—it was a sensation. It was pure agony. Pure suffering.

  A tight strap around his thigh was keeping him from bleeding out.

  But it did not stop the feeling of teeth tearing at his flesh. He had been turned into a meal for a ghoul. It slathered over him, sticking its tongue deep into the folds of his muscles and sinew, seeking the flood of blood that it was denied by the tourniquet.

  He had been propped up against the wall. His arms were chained over his head. They wanted him to watch.

  He had passed out a few times, only to be slapped awake with a wet cloth and forced to drink water. He wanted to retch it back up, and a few times he did. But they would not let shock and horror be what killed him.

  Not yet.

  They wanted it to last.

  The demon that laughed over him was skilled in his trade of torture.

  And still the ghoul ate.

  It was down to the bone of his calf, gnawing and tearing, stretching at his flesh like a raw chicken bone. It brought back memories of sitt
ing in a tavern, biting into the leg of a turkey and happily eating his dinner.

  And to this thing, that was all he was.

  Food.

  Maxine was not quite certain if food had ever tasted as good as it did that morning. Sausage, roasted potatoes, scrambled eggs, and a side of fruit that she could not honestly say if she had ever eaten before. It was called a “kiwi,” she was told. She was starving, and she did her best to keep from devouring the food like a wild animal.

  Vlad did not seem to mind her voraciousness. Indeed, he looked quite pleased. It was a good ten minutes into the meal before she managed to slow down and sit back in her chair, drinking her coffee and tearing off small portions of a roll. Spending years with the Roma had ruined her table etiquette. But, once more, if the vampire was bothered by it, he said nothing.

  They sat in companionable silence. Him, drinking tea, watching her with a scrutinizing, but tender expression. And her, trying to not let it bring warmth to her cheeks. “My poor table manners cannot be that amusing to watch.”

  “I am simply enjoying your presence.”

  “Mmhm.” She shook her head. “You are so utterly melodramatic.”

  “I do not deny that charge.” He grinned, and she caught a glimpse of his fangs. They were more retracted than they had been the previous night. She wondered if it might serve as an indication of his own hunger. “I am merely taking great pride in the fact that you fear me no longer.”

  She shrugged, not arguing the truth. He would always frighten her. How could someone of his magnitude ever be truly benign? But she did not spend every waking moment quaking in fear, that much was true. “I have begun to believe you might not tear out my throat at any moment.”

  “A good step in any relationship.”

  “One that is generally supposed to come before physical encounters.”

  “Ah. So that’s where I’ve been making my mistakes all these years.” He snapped his fingers. “For shame. I am lucky that you seem to prefer it the other way around, then, aren’t I?”

  “You’re terrible.” Her face went warm, and she tried to hide it behind sipping her coffee. It was a poor attempt, she knew.

  “I think you enjoy that as well.”

  She laughed, and he was grinning at her. She picked up a roll and tossed it at him, hoping to hit him in the head. He caught it easily and, still grinning, tore off a piece of the roll and ate it.

  Walter stepped into the room then paused by the entryway, seeing them both caught in what must look like a personal moment. “Forgive me, Master. I come with news.”

  “Speak.”

  “Elizabeth has fallen to the hunter Edward.”

  Vlad sighed heavily and shut his eyes, rubbing his temple. “The boy has talent. That is troublesome. I should not have underestimated him. And neither should she.”

  Maxine sat back in her chair. She was sorry for the passing of the vampiress and knew she should not be. Elizabeth was a monster, a predator, and had likely done terrible things. But she had also spoken of wishing to become friendly with her. Although she had not fully trusted the woman, she had enjoyed their conversation.

  Any death is a tragedy. But…I do not blame Eddie. This is a war. And Dracula is winning.

  “Thank you for the news. It is unfortunate, but it is not unexpected. Come, Walter.” Dracula gestured for him to enter the rest of the way. “Join us.”

  “How can you so easily dismiss her death?” Maxine looked up to Vlad curiously. It was not accusatory—she was genuinely surprised.

  “How many of my creatures do you think I have lost? How many do you believe I have witnessed die, or have had to euthanize by my own hand due to their madness or loss of control?” His voice was dark, like the void echoed in his words. “Take that number…and whatever you believe it may be, double it. Then double it again, and again, and again until you lose count. I am old, Miss Parker. Do not forget that. She is merely one drop in the ocean of blood that I have left in my wake.”

  The room was silent.

  Vlad gestured for Walter to sit. His mood shifted, and he smiled at his second-in-command. “Now, come. Miss Parker was merely detailing to me how I pursue her in a backward fashion. I was merely retorting that it seemed to work quite well in my favor, so it could not be so faulty. She resorted to violence.” He held up the roll with a smirk in her direction.

  “Many have thrown far worse and heavier objects at you, my Lord,” Walter pointed out with a thin smile. The tall, pale, stoic creature seemed to be happy to see them as they were, even as he was the bearer of bad news. She could sense a quiet kind of hope in his heart. She also felt no grief over the loss of Elizabeth in him. Perhaps even relief. Curious.

  “Will you join us, Walter?” She gestured to one of the empty chairs at the table. It was meant to seat six. “Please, sit by me.”

  Walter glanced to Dracula, who nodded once. The younger vampire paused for a moment, as if unsure of what to do, before pulling out a chair and taking a seat.

  “Tea or coffee?” she asked.

  “Ah. Well.” Walter went silent and did not answer, glancing back to Dracula nervously. It seemed he would refuse to answer her.

  “Very well, I assume tea.” She reached for the pot and an empty cup and saucer. “What will you take with it?”

  “You do not need to do this, Miss Parker…”

  “No, but it is the polite thing to do. Especially since I believe you are the one who fetched, if not prepared, all this food.” She looked up to Vlad with a coy smile. “He orders you about like you are his butler. The least I can do is make you a cup of tea.”

  “I serve him willingly.”

  “I know. But you do not serve me.”

  Walter sat there, looking at her as though he had died in that moment. Nothing about him moved. Nothing twitched. Vampires could be so very still. Living creatures moved at all times, even unconsciously. They breathed and shifted in their chairs. But Walter simply froze as though he were a sculpture of a man instead.

  He was dumbfounded. She laughed and reached out to pat the back of his hand where it rested on the table. She was grateful Vlad had let her don her gloves that morning. “How do you take your tea, Walter?”

  “One sugar.” He glanced at Dracula, who was watching the scene unfold with uncharacteristic silence. He gave no indication of how he expected Walter to act. Left on his own, he looked back to her. “Thank you.”

  “You lot really do not know what to do with yourselves when you are shown kindness, do you?” she observed as she handed him his tea after mixing in the sugar cube.

  “No. I am afraid we do not. It is not something afforded to us often.”

  “Perhaps if you did not demolish entire cities from time to time, that might not be the case.” She smirked over the table at Vlad.

  “I will take your suggestion under consideration,” the Vampire King replied wryly. Thankfully, he did not seem angry with her. He was watching her in fascination instead, as though something about what she was doing struck him as noteworthy.

  She wasn’t quite sure why.

  Walter quietly thanked her for the tea again and sipped it. “Master, I also came to inform you that…” He paused and glanced to her. He was marking his words. “The work with the older hunter has begun to show progress.”

  “Good.” Dracula’s expression darkened. “I will inspect him personally this afternoon.”

  Maxine sighed. “You are committed to torturing him?”

  “It has already begun.”

  “Out of petty revenge? Or because you enjoy it?”

  He sneered. “Both.”

  She winced and shut her eyes. She had been expecting that answer, but it had still stung. For the same reasons he slept in a coffin, she wanted to remind herself of it. “I wish to see.”

  “Not yet, Maxine.”

  “Why not?”

  He growled. “I wish to ensure that my work is…presentable.”

  “No, you wish for me to linger at y
our table. You wish to draw out this moment as long as you can. I sympathize. But I will not allow it. A man—a city as a whole—suffers at your command. I will witness it. You will take me to see him now.”

  He raised a dark eyebrow. “And you think I take orders from you?”

  “You are not my King, nor my Master. I am not one of your servants. Not now, not ever. You may assert to me that I belong to you all you wish, but I refuse this notion that I am subordinate.”

  “If I wished you to be my slave, I would already have it.” He narrowed his eyes at her angrily. “I have never asserted that I wish to break you beneath my boot. Do not tempt me to change my mind.”

  “Good. You wish me to witness your horrors? Take me to see him now. I would see the whole of it. Not only your finished work.”

  “You will beg me to stop. You will plead for his release. I will be forced to tell you no.” Dracula stood from the table, smoothing out his coat, and walked to a window to turn his back to her and gaze out at the darkened city below. “Are you prepared for this eventuality?”

  “Are you?”

  His hands tightened into fists, and she watched as he clearly forced himself to relax. He lowered his shoulders and clasped his hands at his back in lieu of clenching them. “You are unkind, Miss Parker. It is the ultimate hypocrisy that I feel myself wronged by you. I had hoped to spare you the act in progress. I had hoped to soften the knowledge that we do not simply embrace the violence that is our nature…we relish it.”

  “You wish for me to judge you wholly? Then why are you now too shy to lay down all your cards? Or do you already know how today will end, and you are simply ashamed?”

  He turned to look at her, and all the warmth and tenderness she had seen in his gaze had been whisked away as though it had never been there. Finally, perhaps she had gone too far. She stood from the table.

  Walter was the last to do so, and he took a step back from them. “I will go and inform the Chainmaster that they will have company shortly.” He turned and left the room quickly—a little faster than he had walked in. She was sorry for the poor bastard.

  Vlad walked up to her, and she forced herself to hold her ground. She refused to cower, even with the look he was giving her. He closed the distance between them. Without a moment’s notice, he gathered the hair at the base of her neck into his hand and yanked back on it, wrenching her head up to him.

 

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