"I thought this was the main gate but apparently there’s another door."
"Oh no. You struck the mark with your first guess. But why use a door when one can just as easily climb the wall?"
"Yes," he said, eying the sheer stone wall. "I see your point."
The woman giggled. The Chief Councilor relaxed, growing comfortable in her presence. The twinkle in her dark eyes seduced him. Only the points of the two daggers concealed behind her lips reminded him that her bewitching charms were insidious.
"I have a message, well, more of a proposal, for your brother from her highness the Princess. Would you be so kind as to deliver it?"
The Vampiress extended an exquisitely proportioned hand, and when their fingers touched, a sliver of cold stung him, as if he had touched a rock frozen over with ice.
~
"She assured me it would be delivered," said the Chief Councilor to the Princess. The pair faced one another in the throne room. The Chief Councilor sat on a three-legged stool at the base of the dais from which the throne commanded the room.
The Princess fidgeted, seeking comfort in the confines of the ancient, oak chair. "When I command this kingdom, this chair will have cushions." "As you wish, my Lady."
"Did you see her climb the wall?"
"I didn’t tarry to watch, but I did catch a glimpse of a black form mounting the battlements when I turned at the bend in the road."
"Extraordinary." The Princess stared over the Chief Councilor’s head, imagining. With her left hand, she rubbed the jeweled handle of a dagger sheathed at her waist. A gift from her father when she came of age, she carried the dagger always.
"The Fool was already running down the road, nearly falling over himself," said the Chief Councilor.
"A coward. You should have him flogged, at least twenty lashes." "He didn’t volunteer."
"If he had left me, I would have his head boiled."
The Chief Councilor nodded as he sighed. This business wearied him like no other. "I believe my position as chief adviser requires me to warn you that this infatuation with the Vampire is not healthy. Give me three days and I will gather a hundred princes for you to meet."
"They bore me." The Princess leaned forward. "Now tell me, was she as beautiful, as exotic as depicted in her portrait?"
"Certainly more exotic."
The Princess waited with raised eyebrows.
"And the painting certainly does her justice, but she exuded a sense of profound evil that...." The Princess held up her hand. "You have rendered me a great service councilor. I am much pleased with you and I will not forget this."
The Chief Councilor thanked her, all the while wishing he could forget his encounter with the Vampiress and her icy fingers.
"Now I must...I must stroll for a bit outside," said the Princess. "You’re dismissed."
The Chief Councilor bowed three times as he backed away and then left the room. Fatigued from the early morning trip, he stopped to rest on a bench in a recess. The Princess hurried past, oblivious to his presence, following the hallway to the long gallery.
~
The Vampire swirled his goblet of blood, watching bits of coagulate drift to the bottom in the light from a candelabra while the Vampiress perused the proposal from the Princess.
She smirked then tossed the scrolled parchment onto the table. "So what will you do?"
The Vampire sipped some blood. "After all these years, I keep forgetting that with blood, younger is better."
"You always were the best judge of wines."
"What would you have me do with the Princess?" asked the Vampire. "Maybe, if you wait, she’ll agree to come here."
"She does sound desperate, but I don’t want her entourage traipsing through our home and making a mess."
"You’re not seriously considering staying in her castle?" asked the Vampiress. "Agreeing to these conditions?"
"It might be fun, and I’ll wager she’s delectable." "I wouldn’t trust them."
"They forbid me to bring any weapons or wear any armor and they agree not to decapitate me or drive a stake through my heart." The Vampire laughed. "They’ve thought of everything."
"It’s a trap," said the Vampiress. "Revenge for the Princess’s mother." "Perhaps. How long did it take that chipped fang of yours to grow back?" "A year or two." Her mouth fell open. "You’d sacrifice your fangs?"
"But what a prize she’ll be. This is the stuff of legends." "And what will you use without teeth?"
"Something will come to hand. Some broken glass perhaps." "You’re as obsessed as she is."
"Not likely I’ll be able to bring any back for you," said the Vampire. "I’ll wager she’s sour."
"You’re jealous."
"I’ve aged beyond that emotion."
The Vampire laughed then drained his goblet. "Want to help with my response?"
The Vampiress stood up to leave. "I won’t impinge on your fun. And don’t expect me to hunt for you when you’re toothless."
The Vampire watched his sister glide across the floor and disappear in the darkness of a passageway. "You are jealous," he whispered.
~
The Chief Councilor sat on a three-legged stool in the throne room, watching the Princess read the Vampire’s response, a single sheet of rolled parchment found nailed to the castle’s front gate in the early morning. A red, tasseled pillow cushioned the throne, and the Princess toyed with one of the tassels as she read the message for the umpteenth time. The Chief Councilor had lost count.
"You did well to wake me," said the Princess. "He has agreed to all our terms and conditions." "Yes, but I find that a cause for concern rather than celebration."
"Ah, you don’t trust him. I know he’s a fiend at heart, but that’s why you’re going to remove his fangs. What’s a vampire without fangs? A pretty toy for me to play with."
"With all due respect, my Lady, I don’t believe that removing his fangs will render him harmless."
The Princess sighed. "Chief Councilor, we have already discussed this ad nauseam. Your persistence on this matter is becoming tiresome. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, my Lady."
The Princess smiled. "Do you think he wrote this himself? Is it in his own hand?" "I doubt they employ servants."
"Look at these flourishes. And such strong lines. Only a firm and cultured hand could have written this."
The Chief Councilor leapt to his feet, knocking the stool backward. "Princess. For the sake of your life and the kingdom, I cannot abide this folly any longer."
The Princess stared at her adviser. "Arrange a carriage to fetch him. Remove his fangs. Then deliver him to me. You are dismissed."
The Chief Councilor plodded toward the door. "And Chief Councilor?"
"Yes, my Lady?"
"Thank you for your concern. Your sincerity has spared you a flogging."
~
The Chief Councilor accompanied the coach as an ambassador, a sign of good faith, though his thoughts were scheming in the opposite direction. He thanked all the saints that the Vampire had not requested a hostage. Was that a good or bad omen? This business had shattered his wits. He sat with the driver both ways. No one dared sit inside. The driver’s white knuckles threatened to burst his skin as he squeezed the reins, holding back the horses who threatened to break into a panicked gallop the closer they approached the castle. To hold them in check while the Vampire climbed into the coach required all the driver’s skill. The Vampire smiled at the Chief Councilor, who nodded in return. Was it a smile of acknowledgment, courtesy, or a smirk? As the horses gal- loped, foam gathering at their bits then sliding down their necks, the Chief Councilor reviewed his plan to drive a wedge between the Princess and her self-destruction.
A crowd lined the thoroughfare from the town gate to the castle gatehouse. Castle gossip was alive and well. The horses never slowed their pace and in the blur of faces, the Chief Councilor saw peasants, craftsmen, merchants, women, and children, everyone in the kingdom it seem
ed though none exhibited cheer at the spectacle, only dull resignation.
The Barber, a rotund man with a jolly disposition, awaited them in a barracks facing the courtyard before the keep. He motioned the Vampire toward a straight-backed chair built from stout timbers. Holding his shoulders and head high as if the earth and its doings concerned him not at all, the Vampire stepped forward and surveyed the room before sitting down.
The Chief Councilor raised his eyebrows at the Fool, who sat on a stool in a corner. The Fool nodded. All was in place.
The Vampire objected when the Barber looped a rope around his chest to lash him to the chair but after assurances from the Barber and the Chief Councilor that this merely provided leverage for the extractions, he relented. The Barber pulled a two-headed brass instrument from his apron pocket.
"What is that?" asked the Vampire.
"It’s called a pelican," said the Barber. "See how it’s shaped like the bird’s beak? It’s the newest implement in dental extractions. Just bought it a couple weeks ago, but I couldn’t do without it now."
"I see. I suppose you want me to open wide."
"I can’t see those teeth if you don’t open your mouth."
The Vampire complied, stretching his mouth until it gaped like a viper’s unhinged jaws, exposing his fangs, the daggers that had brought death to so many.
"This may hurt a bit but it’ll be over quick." The Barber clamped the instrument around the base of a fang. Grasping the chair for leverage, he pulled with all his strength. His face flushed crimson. Sweat beaded on his cheeks and forehead. The veins in his neck throbbed. The chair creaked then shrieked as it snapped. After three broken chairs, the Barber sat on the floor, his neck and arms limp. "It’s no use," he said between deep breaths. "The roots run too deep."
The Vampire twisted his head from side to side, igniting a series of pops from his neck. The Chief Councilor rubbed his bearded chin, considering his strategy, which assumed a vampire weakened from blood loss during the extractions.
"I’ve an idea," said the Fool. "What we need is horse power."
The Barber and the Fool tied the Vampire and his chair to a beam and secured his head with a leather strap across his forehead. From ropes, they fashioned a harness that crisscrossed the Barber’s torso and then secured the ropes to the harnesses of two draft horses in the courtyard, where a hostler stood ready with a whip. The Barber clamped the pelican on the first fang. The hostler whipped the horses. The ropes stretched taut. The Vampire moaned in pain. Just as the Chief Councilor’s hopes rose, the Barber flew backwards across the room, rattled through the door frame, and then bounced across the courtyard on his prodigious backside in the dusty wake of the runaway horses.
The Chief Councilor sent the Fool to fetch the Master Carpenter, who arrived carrying a chisel and a wooden mallet.
"I think," said the Chief Councilor to the Vampire, "that we can amend the agreement to remove the points of the fangs rather than extracting them all together."
"As you wish," said the Vampire. "It makes little difference to me as long as the Princess will still have me."
"I can assure you of that." The Chief Councilor turned to the Carpenter and whispered. "As much of the teeth as possible."
With two taps for each fang, the Master Carpenter sheared off the teeth flush with the gum line. The Vampire grimaced from the pain in the stumps of his fangs as chill air shocked the exposed nerves. A mortal would have fainted.
His hands behind his back, the Chief Councilor approached the Vampire who remained secured in his chair. The Chief Councilor felt no remorse for his trickery, no dishonor, for he saw the Vampire as the devil incarnate, and there could be no sin in the obliteration of absolute evil.
He sprang toward his victim, drawing a stake and a mallet from behind his back. Jabbing the stake against the Vampire’s chest, he struck it with the mallet, thrusting all of his frustration with the Princess into his effort. The Vampire gasped. His eyes flew open. But the stake did not pierce the skin.
The Chief Councilor looked askance at the Vampire, who broke into laughter as he snapped the ropes that bound his arms and then tore open his shirt to reveal a hauberk. Its conventionality, interlocking rings of rusting iron, mocked the Chief Councilor.
"I knew this old piece of junk would be good for something someday." He slapped the Chief
Councilor on the shoulder. "It appears mistrust is contagious. Take me to the Princess."
~
Wearing only her night dress, the Princess sat on a cushioned stool before a dressing table carved with swirls and flowers, brushing her hair. The Vampire sat across the room, watching her.
" Tell me about yourself," said the Princess. "That’s a very, very long story."
"Cut out the boring parts."
"I remember your mother," said the Vampire. "She was older but just as ravishing."
The Princess stopped brushing. "What could you know of my mother? She died of a fever." "Perhaps we should clean our teeth between meals."
"What could your dirty teeth ..." Her voice trailed off as she imagined the Vampire feasting on a sick commoner, perhaps a vagrant lying unconscious in a filthy alley, and then mixing the blood with her mother’s as she lay sleeping in the castle. "You despicable fiend. Have you no respect?" The Princess slammed her brush on the table. "Get out," she cried.
"I’ve only just arrived. And I had my teeth chiseled off." "Leave at once or I’ll call the guards."
"You told them to go away, under threat of death wasn’t it?" The Vampire smiled.
The Princess bolted for the door, but the undead are quick. The Vampire clasped her around the waist.
~
In the throne room, the Chief Councilor spent the night, watching the moon journey from dusk to dawn. He sat on the three-legged stool at times. He paced. He lay on the hardwood floor, using the cushion from the throne as a pillow. As the moon fell, so did his hopes. What more could he have done? What other argument or plea advanced?
When a red smudge tinged the eastern horizon, like blood seeping through a bandage, he could wait no longer. He flung open the door and stumbled over the outstretched legs of the Fool, who lay sleeping in the hall.
"What are you doing here?"
"Who can sleep in their bed with that Vampire loose?"
"Come along," growled the Chief Councilor. He strode to the guard house, with the Fool in tow, where he roused the Captain of the Guard, who assembled a platoon. The soldiers followed the Chief Councilor and the Fool to the Princess’s bed chamber.
All was quiet as a winter’s night under heavy snow. The Chief Councilor pressed his ear against the door, carved with flowers and swirls. For a moment he remembered the little girl who clapped her hands and wanted to paint the flowers when the Master Carpenter hung the door. The Chief Councilor tapped with his knuckles. He called the Princess by name. No reply. He tried the door. Locked. He pounded on the door. Nothing.
"Force it," he commanded the guards. "But, it’s the Princess," said the Captain. "Force it," shouted the Chief Councilor.
Two of the burliest guards charged the door, crashing into it with their shoulders. On the third attempt, the door gave way and the Chief Councilor rushed in after them.
The Princess lay on her back on her brilliant white sheets, her pale form lost in their whiteness. The edges of her torn night dress lay on either side of her naked breasts, and sitting astride her hips, his naked belly swollen like a tick, was the Vampire, who growled and hissed at the Chief Councilor. A crumpled shirt and hauberk lay on the floor at the foot of the bed. A rosy hue, formerly enjoyed by the Princess, colored the Vampire’s countenance. Above the Princess’s left breast, a deep gash told the story of her demise. The Vampire waved a dagger with a jeweled handle. Hopping like a toad, he backed toward a window. As he lowered the dagger to sheath it at his waist, he nicked his protruding stomach and snarled in anger as a geyser of scarlet bloodied the sheets. From the open window, he jumped.
The Ch
ief Councilor hurried to the casement. He saw a large bat flying toward the Vampire’s castle, trailing the blood of the Princess’s folly across her kingdom. On the floor beneath the window lay the dagger where the Vampire had dropped it. The Chief Councilor nudged the weapon with his boot, loath to pick it up, yet compelled to do something with it.
Staring at the dead Princess, the Fool rubbed his chin then asked, "Who would have thought a Vampire would use a dagger?"
The Chief Councilor rolled his eyes.
Our Authors
Edoardo Albert, The Last Door
Edoardo Albert is a professional writer and editor, born and based in London, although his parents come from Italy and Sri Lanka. He’s married, with two sons, and once wrote a lonely hearts ad that reduced a friend to a state of helpless, hysterical laughter. At the moment, he’s typing out a novel written long hand, finishing short stories and trying to find freelance work. Any job offers will be considered.
M.L. Archer, Virtuoso
A native of Los Angeles, M.L. Archer, has been writing fiction since the age of eight...the same year she started violin lessons. An alumnus of the St. Louis Youth Orchestra, under Leonard Slatkins’s direction, she went on to play with a number of adult groups including everything from The Way Orchestra to the Grand Ol’ Opry. She owns a magic violin named Max and is always pleased when her two favorite subjects, writing and the violin, manage to meet.
Kevin Brown, Monster Made
Kevin Brown has had work published in over one hundred journals and magazines, and has won numerous competitions and fellowships. He was also nominated for a 2007 Journey Award and a Pushcart Prize. His first short-story collection, Ink On Wood, is forthcoming from Virgogray Press. His website is: www.InvisibleBodies.com
Jeff Chapman, The Princess and the Vampire
Jeff Chapman writes fairy tales, fantasy, and ghost stories. His works have appeared or are forthcoming in Golden Visions Magazine, Mindflights, and Third Order. Hearing the expression "just a fairy tale" rankles him. He lives with his wife and children in a house with more books than bookshelf space. Stop by his blog at jeffchapmanwriter.blogspot.com/.
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